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domnamewoman · 7 months

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MK1 Characters Headcanon: What Are Their Kinks (Submissive Characters)

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: Dom!GN!Reader, Sub!Characters, Mentions Of Multiple Kinks, Smut, 18+

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

I had to do this for all of us Doms out there. Some of these are spicier than others.

Hair Pulling/Objectification

Liu Kang likes to be reduced to nothing more than a toy for you to use as you see fit. He lives to serve you and wants you to use his body in any way that brings you pleasure. In his mind, that is his only purpose.

Tell him to lie still as you ride his abs or hump into his thigh completely ignoring his aching dick. He releases a moan as you play with his nipples, shocks of pleasure going straight to his dick with each tug and twist.

Pull his hair and his eyes roll back in pleasure, begging you to let him cum. Tighten your grip as you remind him that he is just a toy to be used for your amusement and pleasure and that if and when he cums, it will be after you have had your fill of playing with him.

Spanking/Cock Ring

Raiden craves giving you control over his orgasm. He loves the feeling of the cock ring you placed on him being nice and snug around his dick, a constant reminder that he can’t cum unless you let him. He will do anything to earn it.

Raiden usually follows the rules. It’s only when he gets the need to be thrown over your lap and spanked that he acts out. You don’t let him down during these times, giving him exactly what he wants. He smiles as he feels the first strike of your palm make contact with his plump cheeks.

Make him count the spanks out loud with the threat of starting over if he messes up. Of course, he’ll mess up on purpose just to prolong the “punishment”. By the end, he is a moaning mess as he humps your thighs asking if he can cum. You grant him permission while you remove the cock ring and give him one final blow. He’s cumming on a shout, making a mess between your thighs.

Rimming/Anal

Kung Lao is never more turned on than he is when you have your tongue swiping against his rim. It’s so intimate and he feels so connected to you when you are pleasuring him this way. Your mouth feels heavenly as you kiss and lick at his entrance.

Kung Lao lets out a whiny moan as you pour lube directly onto his hole. His breath catches as you circle him with your finger before applying pressure and it slips in with ease. Drive him crazy by slowly working him open until he is begging you to pound him into the mattress.

Spear him on your dick (real or strap) and go to town. He likes it hard and fast. Kung Lao will wrap his legs around your hips to pull you in deeper. Angle up and hit his prostate again and again and he’s almost crying, begging you to let him cum.

Praise/Oral (Giving)

Johnny Cage lives off of your praise. There is nothing that drives him more than you telling him how good he is being or how well he is doing. He constantly wants to prove to you that he is the best partner and deserving of your love.

One of the ways he does this is by giving you the best head of your life. Johnny would stay in between your legs forever if you only asked him to. There is no part of you that he doesn’t want in his mouth, front or back it doesn’t matter.

Using his mouth to draw moan after moan from you is the best kind of praise. He loves knowing that he is bringing you this much pleasure. Johnny would prefer if you sat on his face (once again, whether he is eating front or back he wants it all). He wants to be smothered by you as you use him to get off.

Shibari/Temperature Play

Kenshi Takahashi is a rope bunny through and through. He loves to be tied up in intricate designs. He finds the feeling of the rope rubbing against his skin and holding him in whatever position you desire comforting.

While he is tied up, run ice cubes over his skin and watch as he shivers both from the cold and the pleasure. Light a candle and drip hot wax over his abs and thighs. Decorate him any way you want, he is your canvas.

Have two mugs, one filled with cold water and the other with warm water. Take a big drag from one and hold the water in your mouth as you perform oral on him. Switch between warm and cold and he will be cumming in no time from the swiftly changing temperatures engulfing his dick.

Edging/Exhibitionism

Kitana loves the thrill of almost being caught. You and her will fool around in dark hallways of the palace, against a tree in the garden, anywhere that someone could possibly pass by and see if they looked hard enough.

Sit next to her at dinner and slip your hand into her panties. Circle her clit as you watch her try to keep up the conversation with the guests without faltering. Bring her close to the edge time and time again until she is sitting in a pool of her own excitement.

Lean over and whisper into her ear that she can cum only if she does it while keeping eye contact with one of the guests. Watch as she looks at Johnny and he stares back with a look of confusion. His eyes go back and forth between you two and then he smirks with realization. His knowing smirk pushes Kitana over the edge and she cums, drenching your hand.

Bondage/Toys

Mileena loves it when you tie her up, rendering her completely at your mercy. Tease her by rubbing your hands all over her body, but never the area she wants you most. Switch between a feather and a pastry wheel to lightly run over her skin increasing her sensitivity.

Mileena loves it when you use toys on her while she is tied up. Put nipple clamps on her and tug on them. Stuff a vibrator into her snuggly against her G-spot and have fun playing with the intensity. Turn it all the way up and she is pulling against the rope as waves of pleasure wash over her.

Go back to the lowest setting and work her up slowly, spending a least five minutes on each level. She will be a whimpering mess, telling you that she has been a good girl and deserves to cum. She’s right, turn it on high and grant her wish.

Oral (Receiving)/Overstimulation

Tanya loves it when you go down on her. She feels as though it's the greatest sign of trust and vulnerability to present her body for you to ravage. Laying there as you take what you want and leave her breathless.

The feeling of your tongue circling her clit and then flattening as you rub it up and down relentlessly has her back bowing and toes curling. She cries out as you add three fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out at a fast pace. She’s cumming before she knows it, head thrown back and mouth open on a silent scream.

She actually screams when you continue your ministrations, body shaking in overstimulation. She loves nothing more than you gripping her hips and forcing her to stay still. She can do nothing but lie there and take it with no way of escape.

Forced Submission/Degradation

Bi-Han desires to be broken and put into his place. As Grandmaster, he is used to people following his every command and giving him the utmost respect. He wants to submit to you but feels like his submission is something you have to earn.

He loves it when his partner overpowers him, but trust that he won’t go down without a fight. He truly is the brat of all brats. Tie him up and tease him for over an hour and he’ll be putty in your hands willing to do anything in order for you to let him cum.

Ask him what the Lin Kuei would think of him if they saw their leader begging to cum like the pathetic whore he is and watch as his dick twitches and leaks pre cum. Make him wait to cum until he has proved himself useful by pleasuring you. He would do anything you tell him to as long as he gets his reward at the end of it.

Choking/Masochism

Kuai Liang goes weak in the knees when you are rough with him. Push him against the wall, shove him to his knees, slap him. He welcomes it all. It only makes his dick throb and leak pre cum into his pants. He wants you to do him and do him hard.

Wrap your hand around his throat and squeeze and he’s almost cumming on the spot. His eyes roll back in pleasure as he struggles to get air into his lungs. Pinch and twist his nipples and his back is arching as he moans loudly. There is nothing better to him than the mix of pain and pleasure.

He loves it when you roughly jerk him off, not bothering to use any lube. It’s okay because he will be dripping pre cum soon enough. Squeeze his balls tightly in your fist. Suck him into your mouth without mercy. Be careful if you decide to use your teeth, he’ll cum without warning down your throat.

Thigh Riding/Dry Humping

Tomas adores when you let him sit in your lap, fully clothed, and grind into your thigh. There is just something about the way it makes him feel like a needy little boy who can’t be bothered to get undressed, to properly use his dick that he just can’t get enough of.

He lets out a needy groan as you stare at him with nothing but love, as you run your hands up and down his sides. The feeling of his dick rubbing against the fabric of his pants has his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Grip his hips and force him to go faster and rub harder against your thigh and his moans won’t stop. He won’t stop telling you how good you make him feel and how lucky he is to be able to ride your thigh like this. Ask him if he is going to make a mess for you in his pants and all he can do is bite his lip and nod as he cums over your thigh.

Somnophilia/Edging

Syzoth loves letting his partner have access to him at any time of the day. That is why he is perfectly fine if you slip into bed and play with him while he is peacefully sleeping. Nothing brings him more joy than to be useful to his partner whenever they are in the mood.

He moans as he wakes up with his dick in your mouth, sucking him down skillfully. He is already close to an orgasm from all the stimulation you gave him while he was asleep. But of course, you don’t want things to end so soon, so you pull back.

Syzoth falls more in love with you as you tease him, bringing him to the edge and back down, again and again. He smiles to himself as you ignore his begging to let him cum, he doesn’t want you to. Not until he is a drooling mess.

Overstimulation/Cum Play

Baraka isn’t satisfied unless you’ve forced at least five orgasms out of him. Lying there, covered in a layer of sweat as you tug on his overused cock makes him happier as can be. His back arches as another orgasm hits him, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He begs you not to stop even now. He pleads with you to give him another. Who are you to deny him when he begs so prettily? He growls at the sting of pins and needles in his dick as you continue pumping him, twisting your fist around his tip on every upstroke.

Run your hand over his abs and collect the cum pulling there. Let him swirl his tongue around your fingers, cleaning them from every last drop. Baraka can’t stop his body from twitching as you make this orgasm count by speeding up your strokes to an almost inhuman level. He howls, back bending almost painfully as cum shoots out of his now numb cock. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dumbification/Humiliation

Shang Tsung loves to be broken down into nothing but a dumb, stuttering mess who can only focus on one thing, cumming. He doesn’t want to think about how to gain power or raise his position in the world, no. All he wants to think about is the pleasure you bring him.

Call him a dumb slut as you force him to reach his climax by humping against your leg like a dog. He watches as you stand over him, staring down at him with your arms crossed over your chest. He clutches onto your thigh as he grinds his dick onto your shoe.

He only goes faster, moaning as you call him a pathetic whore, no worst than a dog in heat for getting off to humping your leg. He loves it even more when you make him repeat it, humiliating himself. Spit on his face and he’s cumming harder than he ever has.

Omorashi/Watersports (I know, fight me)

Zeffeero loves the feeling of being driven to the point of desperation. There is nowhere he would rather be than sitting between your legs being encouraged by you to drink yet another glass of water while you massage his lower belly, telling him how good he is for holding on this long.

The beautiful sounds he makes as his stomach starts to cramp, begging him to release the contents of his bladder. But he won’t, not until you tell him to. He feels light-headed as he rests against your front, one of your hands rubbing his stomach, pressing into his bladder and the other shoved down his pants stroking his throbbing dick. His whimpers of, “Please,” become louder as each pass of your hand brings him closer to his climax. You finally, finally tell him to let go and all he can do is moan as his pants are drenched in a combination of his urine and cum. Let him lick your fingers clean, he’s earned it.

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apocalypse-shuffle · 11 months

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HOBIE BROWN | SPIDER-PUNK (atsv)

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“Brand New Metal” (Hobie Brown & Fem!Reader)

| Hobie helps you pierce your nose.

| SFW, piercing description, needles

| Featuring almost the entirety of my own piercing experience. (Pic source: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) movie)

You pull away for what feels like the hundredth time in five minutes and Hobie’s hand moves outta the way even faster, barely a blur of movement before it’s back within his bubble of space.

“C’mon, Mama, I can’t do this if you keep jumpin’ away from me.”

You shift in place where your butt is planted beside the hard water stained sink. Shoulders dropping you rub your hands down your face.

“I know that,” you grumble.

Problem was, knowing barely qualified as a quarter of the issue, and whoever said knowing was half the battle clearly hadn’t been staring down the point of the thickest needle you’d ever seen in person.

You wave your hand to the metal rod with a grimace. “But look at the size of that thing, Hobes. That’s gotta be overkill.”

Hobie’s accent seems to get thicker as he hits you with a deadpan tone, full brows shading his eyes.

“This’s a twenty gauge needle. I’ve seen you ’old your guts inside you and still make time to bash in some fascists, this’s nothin’.”

In response you flip him off but Hobie - perfectly unfazed - only starts twirling the needle around two latex glad fingers.

His own piercings - of which there were plenty - glint off of the dim yellow lighting of his bathroom like a taunt. Or at least it feels like that to you.

“Look, I already told you piercings ain’t some crucial part of the scene, Mama. You don’t have ta do any of this. It’s all just boxes and labels, the lot of it,” Hobie points the blunt side of the needle at you. “And you know I hate labels.”

“Yeah, Hobes, the whole of Camden knows. Besides, I want it cause I think it looks nice not cause of capitalism’s agenda to make us buy shit instead of looking at whatever human right of the day they’re doing away with,” you shrug and Hobie’s mouth twists to the side for a second before he’s shrugging too.

“Great. Point’s been made then. Pick a struggle.”

“Fuck your struggle,” you frown. “It’ll hurt.”

“Hn,” he scoffs and shakes his head. He’s giving you this narrow look like he’d let you keep this back and forth up for the rest of the day without any complaints though. “Fake ones exist for a reason.”

“Fake ones won’t give me the satisfaction of a real piercing though.”

“The lie that we need to feel pain in order to be worthy of livin’ is also capitalistic propaganda, Luv.”

Now it’s your turn to give him a look; face dropping and one brow rising.

Hobie chuckles.

“Fine.” He grins, sharp. “We both know I know exactly what it is you’re sayin’. I just can’t tell if being an accomplice to yer masochism is fair to me.”

“You wouldn’t deny a woman her creative outlet, would you?”

“S’pose not,” Hobie agrees, taking another alcohol swab and disinfecting the needle again for extra measure.

He eyes you up and down and you smile, fluttering your lashes at him and kicking your heels into his cabinet doors. You needed Hobie to be the one to do this. For one, because you were not going to be able to do this yourself, and for two, because he was really the only person you trusted to puncture a literal hole in your body.

You take a deep breath, now if only you could chill the hell out.

Hobie shakes his head, wicks flopping around and knocking into each other languidly.

“Yer one ‘elluva reluctant participant to this for someone agreein’ they’re a masochist,” he nods to the needle while brandishing it like a knife. He knows you're full of shit, but he’s not about to make your decision for you. “You gotta stop flinching every time light just glints off the needle if you really want this.”

You lock eyes with him, sitting up to your full height and trying not to back away from the metal rod. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the adrenaline rush to kick in.”

“Pretty sure that happens after the pain, yeh?

A huff and your fingers curl over the edge of the counter and squeeze.

“Just…get it over with, Hobie.” You take a deep breath. “Please?”

“Alright alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Hobie eases a hand around your jaw and raises the needle. “You know I’ve got you. Now keep still.”

Another deep breath from you and Hobie meets your eye for a second time.

“On three,” he grunts. With your head in his grasp you can’t physically nod so you use your eyes to convey your agreement.

Hobie takes a breath to start the countdown and you inhale with him. You’ve gotten your ears pierced before, you could do this. It was fine. Plus you’ll have a few seconds to prep yourself before he gets to number three. You got this. You both exhale.

“Three,” he states.

Without a second to spare the needle pierces through the squishy cartilage of your nose and your breath catches in your throat. Instantly tears well in your eyes and your face heats up something fierce - like somebody’s holding a blow dryer on the highest setting up to it with zero mercy. Your joints pop, grasp on the counter growing tighter in your attempt to keep yourself from jerking out of Hobie’s hold. The sheer need to not garner an actual injury from the metal is almost solely what keeps you in place.

This wasn’t like an ear piercing at fucking all. Fuck this septum piercing and fuck Hobie too. What the fuck?

“Ow! You motherfucker!”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I only wrote his accent clearly some of the time; you’ll have to forgive me. I was confusing my damn self, okay? I did my best.

Also what I said about how adrenaline works isn’t really correct so don’t take that as gospel.

Edit: Had this labeled gn!reader on accident at first y’all, that’s my bad. Sorry for any confusion.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

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twsted-time · 1 year

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Overblot bois vs dirty songs

How will the overblot bois react to their girlfriend listening (and dancing to dirty songs from her world.

CW: face fucking on Leona’s part. Established relationships. Mention of malleus having two cocks

Riddle:

Song: hips don’t lie

Face turns red immediately

You can’t tell if his embarrassed or angry

Collars you for being immoral (if you are in public)

If not he just scolds you for listening to such things.

Would forbid you to listen to them again.

“W-Why are you listening to something like that!?” He stuttered. “It’s a song from my world.” You whined. “A-Are all songs from your world this… dirty…” he trailed off. You shook your head. “No but there are worse out there.”

Leona

Song:MONTERO

Wonders why you woke him up.

When he sees how you are dancing to the song as well as listening to the lyrics he decides to just watch you.

Till you make a motion to the lyrics “Shot a child in your mouth while I’m riding”

Suddenly you don’t even to get finish the song as you are pushed to your knees with Leona infront of you.

You can barely breathe with the rough pass Leona had set thrusting into your throat. “Hah.. if you wanted to swallow my cum herbivore. You could hav said so. “ he panted out as his hands gripped your hair.

Azul:

Song: Daisy (don’t ask I wanna save some of the others for later)

Is appalled by how vulgar the song starts.

Then is also a bit put off by. How much the song curses.

Till it starts “I’m crazy but you like that. I bite back, daisies on your night stand”

He can’t help but watch how your hips move.

Is very glad you two are the only ones in the vip room

“My pearl must you move like that?” He asked trying not to look up at you by fake focusing on his contracts. You smile and wink at him before just continuing to dance. Managing to catch his gaze every now and then with a huge blush on his face.

Jamil

Song: candy shop

Is horrified at first

But his eyes can’t help but drift to your hips

Kinda realize the lyrics aren’t about candy

Try not to get too sexual with the song.

Right as you bend over hand over your pussy when the female voice goes ‘keep going till you hit the spot’ you feel his hand on your back. “My desert flower… I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t do that. You try to stand up but his hand is pushing on your back. “Jamil…” you could hear him groan a bit. Then you knew you were in for a long night.

Vil

Song: unholy

Shakes his head.

Can’t help but watch you through the mirror of his vanity.

Curses under his breath in German tho mostly can hide how you are effecting him.

Till you drop down and back up hands lifting up your hair. Fluffing up and push out your hips.

You find yourself pinned to his bed. “V-Vil?” You call out his name. “Du bist ein ungezogenes Mädchen... hoffen wir, dass deine Beine halten können” your lover spoke in his native tongue. Your eyes widened as he said. You knew exactly what you were in for that night.

Idia

Song: S&M

He was trying to play his game why must you distract him.

His hair turning pink gave him away to tell you what you wer doing was working.

Had to turn his mic off.

Ultimately ended up losing turning his chair around right on time to see you bent over ass facing him as you slowly begain to rise up.

Idia got up from. Having an unknown burst of what you could could call. Brat taming energy. Suddenly getting knocked off your feet with your usually shy boyfriend on top of you. “Y/N… I hope you are prepared to face the consequences for making me lose that match.” The night was filled with edging and overstimulation. Crying out that it was too much, but him telling you that you could take it.

Malleus

Song: spiritual healing

When he first hears the name he doesn’t think much I’ve it.

When the real song starts he looks confused then he watches your movements.

At “the way she suck my soul I need some spiritual healing.” He watched how your hips moved.

Malleus placed his hands on your hips and you could feel his hard cocks against your thigh. “Child of man. You should know better then to rile me up like that…” Your eye widened. “Safe word?” He asked. “Strawberry” he nodded. “Good” and that was the last thing you remember

#twst vil schoenheit x reader #disney twst #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #idia shroud smut #vil schoenheit smut #malleus draconia smut #leona kingscholar smut #jamil viper #jamil viper smut #jamil viper x reader

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lyomeii · 8 months

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・❥・ warnings/notices: yandere themes, platonic relationships, manipulation, obsession, isolation, caelus is the trailblazer, spoiler til the 1.2 , fem! reader but using you/your pronouns, implied yandere platonic yanging, some luofu residents knock you out :)

・❥・request by @the-dumber-scaramouche I was wondering if you could write a platonic yandere dad Jing Yuan? Where the reader is his daughter (fem reader) and while he loves her very much he doesn’t really have much time to spend with her? 👉🏼👈🏼 so she runs away from the Luofu and joins the Astral Express (this is before the Luofu arc) and becomes really good friends with Dan Heng (can be interpreted as romantic or platonic) please and thank you

・❥・a/n: my first hsr request! I’m so glad that I can finally write for both dan heng and jing yua at the same time :) Also, this is really big.

・❥・your entire past is quite a mystery to the residents of the astral express, none of them really know much about your home planet nor your family. and despite how much curious some of them are, they know it’s better to not ask you about it. himeko and mr. yang sees how anxious and uncomfortable you get whatever they asked you something related to it, preferring to let their minds imagine instead of questioning you.

・❥・ despite it, you are a kind soul and someone they can easily count in for help. so it’s not hard to believe that you quickly befriend the two younger residents of the express, both march and dan heng who are always at your side for anything. the three of you are good friends, specially the black haired boy who is often seen around you when march isn’t. his quiet and cool personality is a good contrast to your lovely and talkative behavior around anyone who needs.

・❥・with dan heng around you mostly, he invites you to spend some time at his bedroom the archives where he shows you some of favorites documents and share the many songs that he is currently listening at the moment. those sweet and precious moments brought the two of you so close and yet, nothing much happens around. as much you want to kiss him and take things further between him and you, dan heng thinks it better if things are taking slowly.

・❥・and once caelus enters the astral express, things gets a little more chaotic. now with him and march around, you feel more happier and quickly forget about the rejection coming from dan heng. he looks so unbothered that you get closer with the new boy around, he is too good at hiding the jealous underneath his cool personality, but the rare times that you are alone with caelus, he is watching the two of you from afar.

・❥・ when you offered yourself to help beloborg with caelus and march, dan heng also volunteered himself to join the little adventure. he said that someone needs to be in charge to watch over the three, but himeko and welt know the real reason behind it. they both know that dan heng got even more overprotective over you in recently times. it was a cute scene seeing how he is always standing next to you, sometimes even holding your hand when walking.

・❥・and when things went wrong, dan heng hit one of the guards that almost grabbed you and protected you from others guards that tried to attack you. the way he hold your wrist as the four of you ran to the underworld almost left a permanent mark, he apologized for it of course. later, resting on a hotel room, dan heng applied some ointment on your injury and made sure to take care of you for the rest of the night.

・❥・the two of you spend the night together, sharing the bed as his arms are around your body to bring you closer til the sunrise. seeing your sleeping form next to him makes the boy feel things, he is love with you. he can’t lie to himself about it and yet, he doesn’t want to get closer to you in fear that something bad might happen to you. it’s a lot of mixed feeling, right? but with a little encouragement coming from both march and caelus, dan heng finally confesses his feelings.

・❥・it’s happened after they defeat cocolia. he grabbed your hands and kissed it once no was around to bother the two of you. as a couple, the two of you gotten even closer in the past few days and once another adventure came closer, you become a little scared of the next destination. Luofu.

・❥・a place you once called home. there you lived under the watchful eyes of the general jing yuan, your father. a man who despite not having time to raise you as much he wanted, managed to be so overprotective that you barely walked around the streets without an army of guards. blessed memories, right? all the citizens saw his behavior as normal, just a father who lost too much that is scared to lose his beloved daughter. however, it was too much for your mind to handled it and you left that place in the middle of the night, under a starry sky as you pilot a stolen ship to somewhere else far away. you promised yourself to never retuned, but here you are.

・❥・as caelus, march and mr. yang made their way to go to Luofu, you stayed. the chances of being caught by anyone who lives there is too high! from what you heard from the your previous travels across the galaxy, it’s said that general jing yuan made statues in order to honor his missing daughter. because of that, you decided to stay on the express along himeko and dan heng.

・❥・in the express, things are calm as you peacefully spend most of your time with Pom-Pom to help them around or with himeko since dan heng got sickly recently. despite the many attempts to make him feel better, nothing seems to make him wake up from his nightmares. and himeko suggest that you should just leave him alone for now, saying that he gots things that only he can solve it.

・❥・with more days goes on, the progress at Luofu gets worse and become noticeable from the express’ windows as you watch along with himeko. she advised you to go there to aid the others since dan heng recently decided to help, but you refused again…or at least, you tried to. somehow (you don’t remember how), she made you go to assist a few citizens that got trapped by the enemies.

・❥・you escorted them to safety with help of a starskiff that was nearby. once you reach a safe area with the citizens, you told them to find a knight to guide them to safety, only to be knock out by one of them. how was you supposed to know they hide a rock? you can’t think of that as blood comes out of your forehead and the world slowly become darker…

・❥・ when you wake up, the quickly realization that you are trapped in your childhood bedroom, but this time there are bars in the windows and a camera on the right corner of the room, what is going on? the first thing you did was to open the door, only to be met with your father, the very same one you left behind, who hugged you immediately and didn’t let you go so quickly away from his touch despite your beggings to be released

・❥・ the general (in another hand) is so happy to finally be reunited with his missing daughter! after centuries, jing yuan can hold you in his arms and make sure that nothing bad will ever happen. he feels so guilty that he couldn’t spend with you due the amount of working in the past, but now, he has all the time for you and oh! he can’t wait to introduce you to yanging. you will be so happy to have a little brother! (he has been waiting to meet so for so long!)

・❥・between the many begging and cries, he heard a few familiar names, the people who came from astral express. is that where you have been? did they took you away from him? jing yuan is ready to order his soldiers to take them down at any instant, but your pleads are enough to calm him down immediately. in fact, you ask him if you could meet yanging right now! so father nodded and guided you to where the blond boy is waiting.

・❥・in what you beloved to be a living room, you spend many hours meeting and getting close with yanging. at first, you tired to ask for help from him, only to discover that he almost as crazy like your father. yanging isn’t letting you go so easily after spending years waiting to meet you. this is your life now.

@lyomeii

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belladonnasmenagerie · 7 months

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KinktoberDay 2:Bo X Innocent!reader

Bulge, corruption kink, spanking

!18 Plus minors don’t interact!

Preview: trying to set up a nice little date Bo can’t help but to fuck you in the gas station basement.

Also I wrote this pretty quickly so sorry for any errors or that sort of stuff lol

Warnings: Okay guys this is a nasty one, spanking, dirty talk, slightly ditzy reader, innocent reader if you find that uncomfortable click away, tit job, cum play, f!oral, m!oral???, reader is on the curvier side

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It started off innocent enough just you running around the house in a nice pink sundress finishing up the chores so you could surprise Bo with a little picnic to relax him. Placing the last plate in the cupboard you started packing up the things for your picnic before making your way to the gas station excited to surprise your boyfriend, who you knew had been working his tale off all morning.

Finally reaching the station, Bo heard the bell from the door ding alerting him to somebody’s presence. With a sigh he wondered who could have stumbled into town as he rolled out from beneath his truck.

“Sorry but we’re closed.” He started getting up from the roller wiping his hands with a rag he had set close to his side.

“Come back in…” he continued until he abruptly stopped at the sight before him

You, looking so cute with that soft smile beaming up at him, looking all innocent, but he knew that was a fucking lie. Looking over your body he could tell the way your breasts busted up over the dress showing your cleavage for anybody to see, your thighs spilling out over the thigh high socks, and don’t get him started over how the dress barley hit your mid thigh.

He felt his pants tightening at the mere sight of you.

“Sorry to interrupt baby, just thought we could go for a picnic.” You said so innocently showing him the basket

He looked at the basket then to you, your eyes showing no Intent that this was some sort of ruse just so he could fuck you raw, no he knew better than that. Your pretty little head wouldn’t think of those ungodly things, too innocent to even imagine what you’re doing to his cock right now.

With a smirk Bo walked up to you grabbing the basket and placing it onto the hood of his truck.

“You know what baby doll, that sounds great but how about you help me with a little chore before that, hm?”

You tilted your head in confusion, Bo cursed himself for the way his cock twitched at the sight.

“But, I did all the chores Bo.”

“I know darlin’ but it’ll be real quick then we can have that nice picnic you planned alright?” He said wrapping his arm around your shoulder

You perked up “Alright, if it’ll be real quick I guess I can help.”

Bo chuckled to himself noting the devilish intent he had “Good girl.”

Making your way to the basement you looked around at the messy area, wondering if it needed to be cleaned a little before leaving.

“Do you need me to clean the room before we go?” You asked not looking at Bo who stood behind you

Clicking the lock on the door Bo made his way behind you, pressing you against him, the bulge from his pants pressing against you making him moan.

“No darlin’ I’m gonna have you clean somethin’ else.”

Turning you around he pushed you to your knees, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden maneuver not understanding what he wanted until you saw the bulge of his cock right in front of you. Bo gripped his cock above the fabric, slowly pumping the hard member over his jeans.

“Come on babygirl I know you can help me with this, right?”

You nodded scooting closer, his hand leaving his cock, looking up at him your tongue rolled out of your mouth licking against the fabric going up and down over his bulge. Bo groaned at the sight feeling his pre cum leak from the tip.

“Come on, take it out.”

Pulling away you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down until you saw his hard on in his boxers, A blush lit up your cheeks at the sight of it right in front of you.

“Come on baby, you sucked my cock before I know you can do it again. No need to be so flustered.” He caressed your cheeks to reassure you

Biting your lip you looked back down at his cock, it took everything in Bo not to just say fuck it and have his way with you, not caring about how much you cry and moan for him to slow down. Gently you took his boxers pulling them down till his cock sprung free, tentatively you placed your gentle hands around his cock starting to slowly pump up and down one hand at the base the other near the tip.

A sigh left Bo’s lips loving the feel of his cock being pumped, the sound of his precum slicking with each pump. He couldn’t hold back the low moan that escaped his chest once he felt your tongue give his tip a lick, keeping an eye on you he watched as you looked up at him whilst giving the tip of his cock tiny kitten licks.

“Fuuuuck, you’re going to ruin me baby girl.”

Looking down lower he noticed your voluptuous breasts popping from your dress and smirked catching an idea.

Pulling your hands away, you looked at him confused

“What did I do wrong?” You asked pulling from his tip

He shook his head “Nothing baby, I have another idea. Sit back.”

Doing as your told you leaned back on your haunches, waiting for your next order.

“Bunch up your dress.”

Eyes wide you shook your head “No, Bo that’s too indecent.”

Grabbing your chin he directed your face back to him “It’s only you and me here sweets, you can trust me right?”

Pouting you shook your head yes, starting to pull the dress up.

“Good girl.” He complimented pumping his cock as he watched

Pulling the dress up you stopped above your hips, but Bo nodded

“higher” he ordered

You obeyed pulling it higher until he told you to stop just below your breasts. Turning to the side Bo grabbed a fold out chair placing it right in front of you, sitting himself down on it.

“Come here.”

Scooting closer to him Bo took his cock shoving it under the bunched up dress, before pushing it up between your breasts he let a wad of spit drip onto your cleavage watching as the liquid ran over your breasts into the space between them. Pressing further up Bo groaned feeling your tits press against his aching cock until the tip popped out the top.

“Push them together, open your mouth.”

Moving your hands you squeezed your breasts together the heat in your cheeks rising as you opened your mouth.

“Good girl.”

Pulling his cock down Bo moved it in and out of your breast the wad of spit and pre cum slicking you up nicely. Every time he pushed back up the tip slipped into your mouth, earning him that cute expression he loved so much, Wide eyes with that tint of pink at your cheeks, he wasn’t going to last long with you looking like that.

He groaned watching as he slipped inside your mouth coming out with a pop every time,

“Fuck baby doll, like that, please, fuck! Lick my cock like a good girl.”

Understanding what he wanted you started circling his twitching tip with each thrust he gave.

“Just like that, Christ, I’m not gonna last long with your tits pressing against me like that and your fucking tongue.” He groaned giving a particular thrust

Smirking down at you he started going faster “I’m gonna paint that pretty little face of yours and those big tits with my cum.” He growled hearing the slap of his balls against his fist at the base of his cock.

“Please…Bo.” You murmured out in between each thrust

Bo groaned hearing you beg, throwing his head back he let out a guttural groan slamming his cock up all the way twitching as cum spurted all over your face and breasts.

Heaving a few breathes Bo finally pulled out from your breasts, watching as you looked down at the seed all over your chest feeling it run down your cheeks. Using two fingers you watched as you scooped two finger fulls of the cum off your face before giving it a lick. You couldn’t help but feel your pussy pulse at the taste of his cum, delving your fingers into your mouth sucking his seed off your fingers.

“Holy shit.” Bo moaned breathlessly feeling his cock starting to get hard again.

Looking up at him you removed your fingers

“Sorry Bo, you just taste really good.” You apologized

He just looked down at you, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Get on the bed.” He ordered

Getting up quickly you crawled onto the bed, showing off your ass in the tiny dress, A swift slap made you yelp as the spot reddened in pain.

“Bo..” you scolded glaring at him behind you

Another slap reverberated across your skin making your ass jiggle.

“Hurry up baby, your ass is looking really delicious right now.” He growled letting out a soft chuckle

Pouting you turned around laying on your back, glaring at him with your arms crossed.

“Oh come on y/n, all mad cause I slapped your sexy ass?” He commented crawling onto the bed

You let out a humph sound, turning your head away, Bo smirked at the response.

“Looks like I gotta make it up to you then.”

Crawling lower Bo flipped your dress up revealing your cute underwear, pink with a frilled outline, licking his lips he pressed his tongue against the wet spot at the front of your panties. A gasp left your lips eyes darting down to see Bo between your legs his nose brushing against you, sniffing your essence, groaning from the delicious scent.

“Fuck baby, I thought you were too innocent for stuff like this.” He pulled your panties to the side looking up at you with his devilish eyes as he pushed a finger into your dripping core “but it looks to me like you’re just a little whore.”

You shook your head trying to cover your face in embarrassment “I’m not a whore!” You complained

“Oh yeah? Then you won’t mind me having a quick taste, hm?”

At that he pressed his tongue against your pulsing clit flicking it up and down as his finger pumped inside of you. Your breathing became labored hand darting to Bo’s hair out of instinct the other gripping his sheets. Bo smiled looking up at you between your legs, pumping a little faster into your cunt.

Pulling away from your clit he watched his finger pumping in and out, licking his lips tasting your sweet nectar on them, he looked back at you.

“Think you can take another finger darlin’?”

You refused to look at him making him chuckle, eyes going to your breasts again.

“Pull out your tits and play with them while I finger fuck your tight pussy.”

Your cheeks had to be ten shades of red at this point but none the less you did as told pulling out your breasts from the top of your dress. Bo groaned at the look of your pert nipples, noticing how horny you were.

Looking back down at your pussy he slowly started to push another finger in “mmm I’m going to break you princess” he growled curling both fingers up inside you.

Moving your hand from Bo’s hair both of them got placed upon your breasts fingers tweaking the nipples as Bo sucked at your clit again.

“Bo..” you moaned out feeling your legs shake from pleasure

He felt you gushing around his fingers your liquid running down his palm, his tongue danced around your clit forcing your head to press against the pillow as your hips moved up into his mouth. You felt the vibrations of his laugh as he allowed you to move against him, feeling how your pussy clenched around his fingers that now pistoned inside of you.

“Bo! Please! I’m gunna…”

before you could finish your hips thrusted up into him, thick thighs shaking as you closed around him suffocating him with your thighs.

Chest heaving you undid yourself from around his head laying numb against the sheets, your thighs trembling with the quake of your last orgasm. Pulling his fingers from you Bo crawled up your body, finally catching his eyes you finally realized what happened.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry Bo! I wasn’t thinking I…”

Suddenly his lips crashed into yours his tongue pushing its way into your mouth, closing your eyes you kissed back.

Distracting you his hand gripped his now weeping cock, angling it right up against your hole. A sharp gasp left your lips at the feeling of him shoving his cock inside you, pulling from your lips Bo pressed his forehead against yours.

“Sorry baby, I couldn’t resist fucking you.” He pulled back sitting on his knees and grabbing your hips “couldn’t resist trying to break you.”

Pulling out he slammed his hips back into yours, a moan quivered from your lips as the thought came to you.

This wasn’t going to be quick. He was going to fuck you all night. But for some reason you didn’t mind that, besides secretly you wanted him to ruin you in this tiny dress.

#slasher #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher smut #horror #halloween #bo sinclair #kinktober #house of wax #smut

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

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Creep - Dark!Joel/Creepy Neighbour!Joel x Reader Dark fic.

Taking part in the Haunted Hoedown - I did a randomised one so here we goooo:

Prompts: Urban Legend(s), “I’m so close, can you feel it?”, fate worse than death, mirror sex, the creepy neighbour is too hot to be insane, right? Thank you @psychedelic-ink and @inklore for setting this up! [Extra thanks to @beefrobeefcal and @patti7dc for beta reading this to let me know if it hit right!] [Read on Ao3]

Part 2 of 3 here:

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific warnings: This is a dark fic, it’s twisted af, Joel is a creep, Joel is mean and fucking nasty in this, drug use, dubcon(reader is high AF), coercion, mouth fucking, unprotected PiV, Creampie, breeding kink, degredation(lots of Joel calling Reader a slut/whore etc.), (heavy)stalker vibes, let me know if I missed anything! Enjoy you beautiful THOTs.

Creep.

You’d heard the stories, of the creepy neighbour down the hall, the one Jenny said to avoid like the plague. But she also thought that pot smoking was the work of the devil, and that sex before marriage was a fate worse than death. But you didn’t listen too hard, especially when you realised just how hot Mr Miller was. You’d bumped into him a few times when collecting your mail, or when you’d snuck up onto the roof to smoke.

Tonight is one of the latter. The fire escape rattles as you hear the tell-tale groan of Mr Miller, it’s weird how a pained groan could make your stomach flutter as heat rises on your cheekbones. You take a long drag, the tickling burn of pot threatening to make you cough but you stay quiet, waiting for him to make it up to the roof.

“Damned knee,” He grumbles to himself, cresting over the roof of the building like a bed-headed angel, fuck the pot is already affecting you as you giggle quietly at your own train of thought. The sound makes Joel perk up, dark eyes locking onto yours as he realises he’s not alone, “Hey there gorgeous.” He says with his syrupy Texan drawl dripping from every word.

“Evening Mr Miller.” You say as you take another hit, flicking the ash over the side of the building. Your legs dangle over the edge, feet bare in the oppressive New York summer air.

“Please, sweetheart call me Joel.” He says with an exasperated sigh, as he trudges over to you, his equally bare feet slapping softly on the flat rooftop.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, sitting just far enough away from you to give you some space.

“Never,” You say as you offer him your blunt, which he willingly accepts, “Always a riveting conversation with you Mr-, I mean Joel.” You giggle to yourself, the high already making you feel light and airy as you can’t help the stream of giggles that erupt from your lips as Joel eyes you with a look you can’t quite perceive.

“You been up here long sweetheart?” He asks and you swear he inches closer to you, but you either don’t care, or the weed is just making you horny and hopeful. Maybe it’s all of the above.

“Not long, just been a long week.” You say airily as you watch the older man purse his lips around the tip of the joint, you feel the ache between your legs build as you watch the tendrils of smoke escape from his mouth as he exhales.

“It’s Tuesday sweetheart.” He chuckles, handing you back the joint and for a second your fingers brush against one another and you find yourself chasing his touch. His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he notices your parted lips, knees clamped together as you try and relieve some of the ache in your soaked cunt.

“Don’t remind me.” You grumble as you lie back on the rooftop, a heavy sigh leaving you as you try not to think about how hot Joel is, how his grey sweatpants leave nothing to the imagination. You also try very hard not to get caught staring as you realise his dark eyes are glued to you.

“You ok there babygirl?” The new nickname makes your cunt throb and you know your eyes are wide and glassy as you try to make up an excuse.

“Sorry just-,” You start but Joel lies down next to you stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his t-shirt pulling up far enough that you get a glimpse of the stretch of tan skin, dappled with curls leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Just what babygirl? You checking out this old dog?” He grumbles but you can hear the humour in his tone.

“Maybe,” You say with yet another string of giggles as you, “What of it?”

“Just surprised such a beautiful girl like you would be interested in someone like me.” He says with a shrug as a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Whaddaya mean? Like you?” You ask, already noting how slurred your speech has become.

“Creepy old neighbour, sniffin’ up all the girls skirts, and so on.” He says with a sigh, as if it actually pained him to say the words.

“Don’t think you’re creepy, pretty hot for an old man.” You say with a giggle, trying to lighten the mood, and it seems to work as he barks out a short laugh.

“Don’t tease babygirl, not nice to kick a man when he’s down.” He grumbles but you can hear the levity in his tone.

“Not teasing, not unless you want me to.” You say as you roll onto your side, looking at him as he mirrors your actions, rolling on his side, you’re almost nose to nose now, the tension between you is palpable as you wet your lips in anticipation.

“You’re high babygirl, don’t go makin’ decisions you’ll regret in the mornin’.” He grumbles but you can hear the strain in his voice. You throw caution to the wind and palm the growing bulge straining against his sweatpants. The moan that escapes him tells you all you need to know as you press your lips softly against his. They’re chapped, warm, plush.

“Take me to bed Joel.” You say softly as you pull back, his eyes are glassy, pupils saucers as he bites down on his lip as he considers it.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He growls and brushes his lips against yours once more before pulling away to roll onto his feet, offering his hand out to you, muscles rippling as he hoists you up.

He helps you down the fire escape, steadying you on the gantries as you try your hardest not to fall helplessly to your demise. Once you’re back at your floor you’re crawling through the window to the hall, stumbling against the wall as your legs wobble.

“Easy there,” Joel coos as he grips your elbow, steading you as he pulls you close, “Your place or mine?” He says softly as he rubs his thumbs back and forth against your biceps.

“Yours, mine’s a dump, don’t want to scare you off.” You admit with a giggle and he rolls his eyes at you as he steers you to his apartment, you note that the door is unlocked as he pushes you into the dimly lit living room.

Immediately his mouth is on yours, a large hand grips your hip, pinning you to him, the other fisted in your hair as he pushes you further into his apartment. Your hands claw at one another’s bodies, stripping you both bare to the humid air as you crash into the unmade bed. All you can smell is Joel, the musk on his bedsheets, the waft of his detergent. It’s all consuming.

“Look at you.” He says darkly as he stands at the end of the bed, bare for you, one hand rubbing the patchy stubble on his chin as the other pumps his length slowly. And length is the right word for it, he’s so big you shudder.

“Mr Miller please.” You whine as you clench around nothing.

“Such a needy brat, c’mere.” He beckons and you scamper up onto your knees to look at him. He smirks and pushes down on your shoulder with one hand, the other still secure on his cock. You’re forced to sit back on your ankles as he pulls your head towards his angry, red tip, beading with precome already.

“Please Mr Miller, fuck me.” You whine as you eye his dick hungrily. You expect him to become bashful, disheartened, but there’s a darkness that settles over his eyes, his posture shifts.

“Suck.” He says with a grunt as he fists his hand in your hair, tugging painfully but you groan at the sensation as your lips are forced against his tip. You whimper as you take the tip into your mouth, suckling gently as your tongue flattens along the underside.

“Fuck, dirty little mouth, knew you were just fucking begging for it, seen the way you look at me babygirl.” He grunts as he rocks his hips slowly, pushing further and further into your mouth. You’ve only got about half of him in your mouth and you’re already struggling. He laughs at you, a cold, condescending sound.

“Shouldn’t pretend to be such a slut if you’re not willing to take my cock babygirl.” He growls as he pulls your head back, opening your throat up for him so he can force the rest of his brutal length into you. His balls rest heavy on your chin as you choke and splutter around him, saliva dripping down your cheeks as you cry at the stretch.

“Fuck, come with me.” He grunts as he unsheathes himself from your mouth, yanking you up with such force your shoulder hurts. He pushes you into his bathroom, bending you over the sink so hard you almost hit the mirror with your head.

“Mr Miller, please, I’m sorry.” You whimper, the anticipation of him fucking you with such a big dick making you shake. But you’re excited at the same time, a sick and twisted desire leaking from you as your arousal coats your thighs.

“Too fuckin’ late sweetheart,” He growls as he notches himself at your entrance, “You wanna act like a slut, gonna treat you like one.”

You cry out as he stretches you out, squirming under him as he bottoms out. You’re so full, raw and split open but it feels so damned good. He fists your hair again and pulls you off the sink to look at him in the mirror. His face is contorted in a sick snarl, you can’t help but whine at how he looks. Dominant and brutal as he uses you.

“Look at you, all fucked out on my thick cock, spearing you like the good little slut you are.” He growls as he fucks into you at pace, not giving you a moment to adjust but it feels too good. You’re drooling, blissed out as a hand comes to your clit, thick, calloused fingers swiping furiously against your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Wanna feel you milk this cock dry little fucking slut.” He growls as he pistons into you as he expertly plays you like a fucking instrument. You feel your release slide down your spine, making your whole body shudder as your clit twitches painfully. You scream as his dick slams into you, your orgasm blurring the edges of fantasy and reality as you fall apart around him.

“Fu-fuuuuck.” Joel groans as he snaps his hips into you a few more times.

“Joel I’m not on birth control.” You babble, the realisation finally hitting you that he isn’t going to pull out.

“Too fuckin’ late you dumb slut, going to fill you up, ‘m so close, can you feel it?” He taunts as you feel him stutter inside you, the sensation of his cum filling you has you whining. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck.” He grunts as he pulls out of you, immediately walking away, you stagger upright only to have your clothes thrown at you.

“Get dressed and get the fuck out of my apartment you fucking whore.” He snaps and you do as your told, trembling as you dress before scurrying across the hall. You fumble with your keys, as you unlock the door and quickly slip inside, locking the door from within as you slump to a heap against the door.

Your smile is so broad it hurts as you make yourself get up and head to bed, not bothering to shower. You flop down onto the pristinely made bed and laugh to yourself as you prop a pillow under your tailbone, staring up at the ceiling as you hope it takes. You’re ovulating after all.

You smile to yourself as you look up at the collage above you. Blown up photos of Joel from his social media, snaps you took on the sly on nights like tonight on the rooftop, that one time you caught him jacking off on the roof while high on god knows what. Your secret shrine on full display as you pray his seed will take. He thought he was in control, fucking you like he was the one pulling the strings but he was wrong, so very wrong.

“You’re going to be mine Miller, all fucking mine,” You groan as you play with your clit, arching your hips up so no more of his spend leaves you, “All fucking mine.”

Part 2 of 3 here:

Tagging for interest: @beefrobeefcal @cool-iguana @gracieispunk @toxicanonymity

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theaawalker · 5 months

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Something to Feel, Something Real [Finnick Odair Smut]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x male!reader Song Inspo: Call Me By Your Name by Lil Nas X Word Count: 1,394 Summary: You've seen Finnick around, often through pitying eyes, but haven't spoken to him. The times you have seen, he's either with a client (flirting) or leaving them (shaking with shame, rage, and disgust). You decide to make him feel something real and mutually pleasurable. Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), emotional build-up, MxM, one-shot, begging, substance usage, cursing, narrator pov Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly) A/N: This is not attached to "I Promise", my other Finnick imagine. The second part will be here shortly. Just adding a little twist to the end. *smirks villainously* In the meantime, here's some gay smut to tickle your tentacles. Peep the easter egg tho ;)

You and Finnick have your first real conversation when he’s arriving back at the Tribute center one night after spending an upsetting few hours with one of Snow’s clients. He’s in a foul mood, anger bordering on despair and self-hatred, still feeling the ghosts of unwanted fingers on his body, when he steps into the elevator and finds you smoking a joint.

"Shit, shit!” you curse, hiding the joint up your sleeve and coughing, waving your hands in the air like you can disperse the smell. “Sorry, someone was smoking in here before,” you lie.

Finnick can’t help himself. He laughs. “Give me a hit and I won’t tell anyone.”

You share the joint in the elevator, not hitting any button to go up to either of your floors. The chatter comes easy with both of you, but it’s not long before you’re stepping over friendly small talk into a genuine conversation about the wild shit you’ve seen in the Capitol and in your case, at home, too. District 2 loves to rub elbows with the Capitol, something you despise. Your comparisons and imitations have Finnick barking laughter.

During one of the lulls in conversation, he takes in your face and form, basking in the fact that he’s responsible for the smile on your face right now. He’d like to get to know you better, and fuck it, maybe he’s a little horny right now, too.

“Come to my floor?” he asks, the joint between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, watching you.

You stare at his lips as he exhales. God, the high must be hitting because all you want to do is cover his lips with yours. Like, it’s the only thought rattling around in your peanut brain. His lips curl into a smile and--Oh, shit. He asked you a question.

“Sure,” you answer.

One expression Finnick identifies all too easily is lust. And he sees it plain on your face. “Then let’s go.”

Finnick leads you to the lounge on the fourth floor, well away from the bedrooms. The giant windows let in light from the Capitol’s nightlife.

“I miss the stars,” you say once you’re both settled next to each other on a loveseat. “It’s not like there are a ton of them back home with all the light pollution, but still. There are more than here.”

Finnick gazes at the dark sky. “You should come to District 4 sometime. You can see the entire Milky Way. And instead of listening to all those cars you listen to the ocean. And you can forget everything for a few moments.”

Despite the lounge being much, much larger than the elevator, this feels far more intimate. Finnick and you face each other, your eyes flicking to his lips. He’s the Capitol sex icon and has always acted like an absolute peacock on camera, but you’ve seen him trying so hard mentoring his own tributes and taking care of Mags. There’s a lot more depth to him than what the cameras show. And you like the bits he shows off camera far, far more. Those bits are coming out tonight; a funny, deeply caring, deeply hurt young man with a vast capacity for kindness.

When he came into the elevator, he looked positively miserable and so, so defeated. Like he had been stomped on and ground down. You wanted to make him smile, a real smile, but then you couldn’t stop at just one, and now here you are. You know about his and Snow’s “arrangement”. You also know you can treat him better than any of the “clients” do even when they’re trying, and you wonder if he’ll let you treat him like that.

Your intense stare has Finnick shifting, feeling a few degrees hotter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally ask, voice low. If there’s one thing being a Career has taught you, it’s to grab at any opportunity you see. Finnick swallows. “Yes,” he croaks. “Please.”

You lean forward and capture his lips, one hand on the back of the couch and the other securely in your lap. You’re close and leaning into him, but not holding him. The restraint surprises him at first. But he’s grateful for it and he relaxes. He sinks into the kiss, his own hands venturing to fist in your shirt collar and hold you there. You let him lead, let him feel your arms and touch your face and chest, but never move your own hands from their position, just pour your all into your lips against his.

The lights flick on. You and Finnick snap apart like a rubber band snapping back into shape. It’s Mags. She looks between you both with wide eyes before a mischevious smile breaks across her face. “No, no, Mags,” Finnick protests.

She winks, grinning, and flicks the lights back off. She exits.

Finnick groans. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

You grin and wink. “Well, if you’re never going to hear the end of it, we may as well make it worth it, right?”

His seafoam eyes lock on yours, an eyebrow lifting. He smirks. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “I’d like to suck you off.”

All thoughts leave his head and all blood flows straight to his groin. For once, he’s speechless. No one has ever offered this before. All the people he spends time with want his attention on them, want him to fawn over them, wants him to boost their egos with his attention. And if they did off, he’d wonder what they want in return. Exactly like he’s wondering right now. He should ask, but his brain is too focused on the thought of your lips around his dick. Does he really care what happens after as long as he gets what he wants, first?

At his silence you withdraw. “Only if you want me to, of course,” you add. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he hastily replies. “Yes. I’d love you to suck me off.”

That affirmation is all you need. You kneel in front of him and slowly unzip his pants, revealing plain boxers beneath. Finnick watches you, his heart pounding. With agonizingly slow movements, you touch his length and guide it through the gap in his boxers. He grips the cushions of the loveseat as you lick up the underside of his member, from the base to the tip. Your tongue is deliciously wet. Finally, you take Finnick into your mouth and work him slow, slow, slow. One hand balls into a fist on his leg and the other slips in your hair. He moans, a low sound that barely reaches your ears.

You can’t believe no one has ever done this before. You’ve barely started, and he looks absolutely wrecked and so goddamned pretty. His head falls back against the loveseat and he lets out a shaky breath.

Fisting him, you take your mouth off to quip, “Have I made the Finnick Odair speechless?”

He huffs a laugh, meeting your gaze. “Just wait until I have you on your back and—oh.” His words end in a strangled moan as you suck his head. You ease him a little bit further into the rhythm before you deep-throat him. By then both hands tangle in your hair and he’s whimpering and trembling, muscles taut. “Fuck. Fuck.” It’s so warm, so hot, feels so, so good.

He comes shortly after, cock hot and stiff in your mouth, his entire body rigid. As he comes down from his high he melts into the couch, both his hands gently tugging at your head. “Get up,” he pants. You comply and stand, bracing your arms on either side of his head, and kiss him. There it is again, that restraint.

“Touch me,” he moans. “Please.” He might combust if you don’t.

You obey and cup his cheeks. His hands mimic yours, holding your face to his while you kiss. His stomach feels warm and body completely relaxed, for once completely in the moment, his brain pleasantly quiet.

He opens his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You press your forehead to his, cheeks hot. God, there’s so much you want to do to him, with him, but not tonight. “You can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep,” you answer.

What? He knows he heard you right, but what? “That’s not what I meant,” he says hesitantly. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I know.” You brush back a lock of his hair. “And as much as I’d like to fuck you or you fuck me and make out well into the morning, you taking care of yourself is what I want the most. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Finnick can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I promise.” He feels almost bashful. How do you know what he needs? Beneath your soft gaze he feels vulnerable and open, and while it’s foreign, it’s not unwelcome.

You smile at him, a brilliant smile that lights up the night. “Thank you.”

You’re thanking him. You just gave him a blowjob and you’re thanking him. Who the fuck are you?

After exchanging a few more minutes of sweet nothings, you leave to head to your floor. Finnick stays on the loveseat a while longer, smiling, watching the twinkling lights of the Capitol. The content expression gradually falls from his face and he sinks into the reality that is his life. At least this has been a sliver of good in what is his constant parade of masking for the Capitol. Maybe he can have a few more of those slivers when you’re around. He’s certainly going to try to grab the chances when they present themselves.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

Text

✩࿐ TRACK 04: UNDERSTAND. shoto todoroki (1K)

about. until he met you, shoto todoroki wasn’t really sure what being loved felt like. now that he knows, he’s sure that he wants love with you - for the all his days.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact!, sfw, fluff, happy ending, established relationship, sunday snuggles, proposals, afab!reader, pro hero!todoroki.

things to note. eee i was meant to post shoto’s last saturday but i got rlly busy! i hope you enjoy the double update today, sero later <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

todoroki never knew what love truly felt like.

to be held like tomorrow has not been promised is something he hardly remembers from his childhood — sometimes if he closes his eyes and tries hard enough, he can catch whiffs of his mother’s shampoo and the feeling of her cashmere sweater against his chubby cheeks.

but it’s always fleeting, never fully present. never really telling of what love feels like.

you were the one who taught shoto that love shouldn’t be something that he has to try and grasp for. that it should be unconditional, that it’s an experience that he deserves.

the half and half hero never thought that he would find someone who cares as much for him as you do — even from the very moment you met. you chose to befriend him despite how callous and cold his exterior was at the time. willingly, you spent years chipping away at the cool layer of frost that prickled on the surface of todoroki’s skin like a sculpture working with the perfect block of ice, desperate to see the real him. not the mould his father had carved him out to be.

you did not seek to change todoroki, to shape him into something new — you simply wanted to see the real him, the warmth in him you knew already existed. it just needed a little coaxing out. you’d told him that on night, your hand sifting through soft peppermint swirl hair. moving as if you couldn’t feel shoto’s heavy heterochromatic gaze on you.

“i like you the way you are, not the way you think you ought to be.”

shoto’s heart had flipped at your confession — like it had done so many times over the years. but being raised in a place where love was replaced by fear, he’d no idea that he was slowly, albeit, surely falling in love with you. oftentimes, you would remind shoto that you found his obliviousness to your feelings for him endearing and adorable. your romance was somewhat of a slow burner, melting like a frozen over fireplace during the winter season. where lingering touches were over analysed and where your cheeks burned hot whenever you stared at one another for too long.

reciprocating your feelings had been a learning curve for the half hot, half cold hero but he had learned from his friends that there is a point to trying (if watching kaminari and his endless attempts at bagging his girlfriend from high school to present day wasn’t motivation enough, todoroki isn’t sure what is). after a patrol through the bustling city some years back, early on into his career as a pro — shoto had held your hands close to his chest, warming you up through the sleet and snow and asked.

“maybe we could try, if you let me?”

he’d not expected you to understand his simple words or burst into tears, nor to say yes and leap up to his height for a delicate chaste kiss. “it’s about damn time, shoto.” you’d replied, beaming so bright he was sure to see galaxies.

he had no idea that the one person he would want to be with for all his life was so close to him, nestled between the milestones and the memories. but now that todoroki has you — he can’t see himself spending a single second away from you. and you, the same with him.

today is no different to how it’s always been since dating todoroki. you lie in his sheets, your bare limbs intertwined and your fingers locked as if you’re never going to let go. todoroki, though lost in his thoughts, worries that you might be able to hear the rapid thump of his heart hitting the inside of his rib cage. if you do notice, you ignore it in favour of drawing shapes along the ridge form of shoto’s naked body, listening out for the sound of his breathing.

he’s scared, truth be told. he worries that despite all this time together �� being accustomed to one another’s quips and squicks, that you might leave or abandon him. love is freighting, even if it is supposed to be unconditional. “darling,” the man coos gently, brushing a knuckle over the apple of your cheek.

“hmm?” you sound so dreamy and relaxed, curled up with him like this — you don’t have a care in the world, completely unaware that you make up shoto’s entire world. “yes, my love?”

the wisps of a smile catch on the corners of his mouth, dragging them upwards at the sight of you nuzzling into his warm palm. “i have a question to ask,” todoroki lets out a shaky exhale and shifts to sit against the headboard with you still tucked into his side. he watches as you glance up at him through long lashes, worry dancing amongst the flecks in your eyes.

you nod and take his hand to reassure him that you’re listening.

he decides then, that you’re worth the risk.

“this may seem spontaneous,” todoroki starts slowly, making sure to keep his voice even as though not to spook you. as if you’re a deer in the woods and he’s a hunter on the prowl. “i can assure you that it’s not. i’ve thought about this more times than you could count, but first. you’re aware that i love you. right?” the press of your lips against his sensitive collarbones is enough for todoroki to assume that your answer is yes — he appreciates you giving him the space to talk too. “not a moment of my time goes by where i’m not longing for you, even when you’re right here next to me.”

shoto takes a moment to pause, pushing the question he wants to ask around on his tongue — he wonders how to frame it, how you’ll take it but with one look into your gleaming pretty eyes (he should have known you would get teary from his speech), he knows exactly what to say. “you’ve…shown me a lot of things, a love that shouldn’t be granted. a life that i deserved to lead and so,” he grasps at your fingers with his colder hand, giving them a gentle squeeze before thumbing over your ring finger. “i think it’s about time that i asked you to be mine.”

he wants you, forever and always. for all of his days — if you’ll stay, that is.

drawing your body up so that you can kneel before him, you squeeze todoroki’s hand back and bring it up towards your lips to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “sho,” you sigh, the words warmly coasting over his cool skin contrastingly. “are you—?”

“i’m asking you to marry me. that’s if you’ll have me, darling.” the hero feels a little shy at how tenderly you treat him, a rose coloured blush blooming on his milky skin at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“i’ll have you in every single lifetime,” you say urgently, throwing your arms around todoroki’s broad, shoulders in a tight hug. “i can promise you that.”

like always, you take todoroki’s hand and he lets you lead him down the path — changing his future, soothing his past. because of course, you’re the only one who truly understands.

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rileysluvr · 8 months

Text

almost 4k words of john price and throat fucking omg i love old men. this one is a little crazy i won’t lie guys my bad

“Hi, Captain,” you smile, closing the door behind you. “What are you up to?”

He hadn’t bothered lifting his head from the documents in his hand when he heard the knocking on his door, nor to bark a gruff order of entry. He simply doesn’t have the time to. When he catches sight of you in his peripheral, though, with that sweet as sugar voice greeting him like a heaven-sent amusement, he does suppose a short break won’t horribly kill him. You are always reminding him he works too hard, anyway.

Your presence is always sure to cheer him up. Whether it be on a day where far too much is happening for his brain to keep up, or one that progresses so slowly he can actually feel himself aging in real time; you show up near the end, all spry and dolled up for him, and he’s sure to forget all about even the shittiest of days. You’ve just got that sort of delightful energy to you.

“The usual paperwork, nothin’ exciting.” He taps his cigar on the corner of the ashtray in front of him, just next to a glass with a thin line of brown liquid he’d been working on. Whiskey, presumably. “Why?”

The room is lit a dull color, easier on the eyes. He always liked things that were easy on the eyes, yourself included.

The admiration for warm, maybe even domestic comfort like this, comes free with the job, and he’d be a fool to not notice the sweet girl in front of him who fits all the requirements and more. Actually pursuing it, however, without the childish sneaking around; that’s a whole ‘nother ball game, trickled with millions of obstacles of every kind.

“No reason. Just that you’ve been in here a while,” you say as you walk over to him, hands clasped behind your back. “And we all missed you at the bar.”

He drops everything—cigar hits glass, documents hit desk, hardened manner going unnourished—and pushes his chair back. Your eyes instantly fall to see how his legs are spread naturally, big and just begging for you to come closer. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity.

He jeers, arms crossed over his expansive chest. “So you’ve come here to save me, is that it?”

“Maybe not save you.” You step between his knees, wondering when his posture had dropped so that he was leaning farther back, hips forward and closer to the chair's edge. Like he’s showing himself off, welcoming you to take a bite. You’re not going to refuse him. “But I can always try my best to help.”

He’s no idiot. He knows what you’re suggesting; you’ve done it plenty before, without fault. He just wants to hear it in that unabashed and wildly indecorous tone of yours. “And how are you going to do that?”

Bottom lip stuck between your teeth for a moment, balancing back and forth between your heels and toes. Your head tilts down a bit but your eyes stay on his figure, like a cheeky pout.

“Lemme suck your cock?”

He heartily laughs at your proposal. “Right now? While I’m working?”

“I promise it’ll be quick,” you pry, in that dangerously, easily seductive voice of yours. You’re dangerous. You’re the only one who’s capable of breaking the bond between the captain and the work he’s bound and effectively caged himself to.

“You’re a devil, y’know that?” The disapproval in his voice is entirely for show, and you seek out that playful coyness in his tone like it’s your favorite candy. “How do you expect me to say no to that? ‘Specially with a pretty girl like you offering?”

He looks you up and down, from smile to hips, and it’s like his stare holds the power of a thousand daggers, each piercing blade laced with arousal and relentlessly digging into your soft skin. God, you really are just a needy thing for him, aren’t you?

He clicks his tongue, eyes landing on yours after practically stripping you bare in his head. Let him finish his work and it doesn’t have to be left up to the imagination, he reasons with himself. “You can’t wait ‘til I’m finished with all this?”

“But I want to now,” you pout, head tilting to the side and making it far too difficult for your captain to deny you.

You play it up, dramatizing your disappointment with the idea of him so invested in his work rather than what you’re offering. Though, it certainly isn’t entirely a charade; you fear that a few tears may actually prick through if he turns you down. Then he definitely wouldn’t have it in him to send you away.

He glances to each side of the room, thinking on what he’s already sure of. He has to appear at least slightly annoyed, otherwise he loses all authority to a tricky thing like you. An inkling of his hesitation is real, but not for longer than a second.

He sighs, “Alright, then. Knees.”

You give a great smile of pure excitement over victory before doing as he so vaguely ordered, sinking to your knees with a helpful hand on his thigh. Even through cargo pants and a military-green fleece jacket, your mind is doing cartwheels thinking about what’s beneath the baggy, yet so tight around the arms and chest, clothes. And he can’t deny the same thoughts for you, dressed in your issued getup as well.

“You lock the door?”

You shake your head; there’s that cheeky look on your face again, except it’s somehow infinitely better when you’re knelt between his legs rather than standing upright. He’ll take it either way. You’re his favorite vice, by far.

He scolds you with the click of his tongue. “Then you better get on with it, right? ‘Less you want someone to walk in and find you down there, now.”

You giggle, telling him all he needs to know. You wouldn’t mind being caught all that much.

“Oh, you naughty thing…” He shakes his head, “Pretty little devil, like I fuckin’ said.”

You grip and pull at his cargoes, growing impatient. “Can’t help it, Sir. Wanna be your girl.”

“You are my girl, sweetheart.” His big hands soothe over the sides of your head, cupping your cheeks as if you held more value than any prized possession. “You know you’re my good girl, don’t you?”

You nod with a sultry hum, just like you do every time he tells you that. Your hands glide up his thighs and reach up to the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather loose as the clanging of the metal rings in your ears. With his elbow on the armrest of his chair to prop up his head, watching your hands work at unzipping his pants with your big eyes looking right up at his stern ones.

Palming him through the clothing a few times, your mouth watering and lips aching to wrap around the fat, hardening cock beneath your fingertips. You can see the glint of adoration in the blown out centers of his eyes, a smirk crept onto his face. Like a king sat on his throne with prey presented at his feet, and you surely make the prettiest prey.

When you’ve got his cock out, you waste no time in wrapping your fingers around the base and sticking your tongue out flat to lick a languid strip up the entire length of him. He groans lightly, though it turns throatier when the tip of your tongue reaches the head of his cock, precum salty on your tastebuds and a bitterness your body learned to miss after mere days of going without it. You know where he’s most sensitive under your tongue, and you begin to play into it instantly.

He grits his teeth with a quick hiss, though he’s so quick to compose himself. “Haven’t got all night, sweets. Suggest you stop your teasin’ and get on with it.”

You take him in your mouth, head of his cock nudging the roof of your mouth as you work to fit more of him. Relaxing your jaw to get used to his unruly size, earning an appraising mutter of a swear from under his breath. Sucking on him like your favorite flavor of lollipop, drool spilling from the corners of your lips.

Making such a mess before you even take him down your throat, faint strings of saliva tickling your chin and sending waves of cool liquid down his spine when it drips onto skin still untouched and unwarmed by your mouth.

You ease more of him past your tongue until he hits the back of your throat, a muffled moan coming from you having his cock twitching in your mouth. He rolls his shoulders back, actually giving into comfort. “Fuck. Jus’ like that, lovie…take your time.”

Even when he’s off the field, he’s still going to coach you through your tasks like a good captain does. No matter how overbearing it gets, no matter how obvious the cues. You’re his responsibility, and he’s always going to watch after you.

Your hand that’s wrapped around his cock proceeds with languid strokes up the length of what you don’t reach with your lips. You trace a vein with your thumb and bend your wrist a bit; anything to boost his pleasure, and anything to get the chance to consume said pleasure like it’s your first and final meal.

He pushes your fallen hair out of the way, tucked behind your ear so you can better choke on his cock without a single distraction. So he can see that pretty face of yours going all dumb, lips stretched around the sheer size of him as that view he loved more than any.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” His big hands hold the sides of your head in a way that really makes you feel treasured without force. You swallow around his cock and he huffs a heavy breath.

The hand on the back of your head is getting heavier and heavier as you bob up and down on his cockhead, and a sick part of you just wants him to shove your skull fully down and make you to take all of him without a breath to yourself, nor a single care spared from him.

“Christ, this mouth of yours…gonna be the death’a me.”

He reaches forward to pluck his still-burning cigar from the ashtray, tapping it against the glass once before bringing it to his lips. He takes a long drag from the dry, rolled paper, and the sight has your efforts of properly sucking his cock faltering just a bit. His other hand, remaining on the nape of your neck, urges you to keep going with a nice squeeze, so you do.

Smoke spills from his mouth and clouds the air around you, and not once does he take his eyes off yours. The scent of tobacco and burnt paper spins your head around in all the best ways; that smoky aroma that lingered from the moment you walked in the door is nothing but homey.

You swallow around the head of his cock again, and he just about loses it. Every word he says is so breathy and spent, yet so authoritative as usual. “Yeah, keep doin’ that right there, love. Fuckin’ brilliant.”

You push on, doing your best to make him feel good. All you’ve ever wanted was to make him proud.

And he is proud of you, beyond what words can describe.

You’re valuable to him both off and on the field, and the progress he’s watched you make while under his command is mind-reeling. He takes pride in having you on his team, to himself. He revels in the fact that he was the first cock you’ve ever taken in your mouth and now you do it on your own volition almost flawlessly, every time, always with a devoted gleam in your naive eyes that nearly suffocates him.

Your tongue glides up to pay more attention to the tip of him, causing him to muffle a groan between his teeth and shove you back down in an instant, almost too hard. You whine around his length and widen your eyes at the sensation of his cockhead hitting farther than what you had progressed to. A gagged noise fills the space and your eyes squeeze shut, only opening when he’s gently pulling your head back.

“Already strugglin’?” He takes you all the way off his cock and you gasp out. You hadn’t even realized how you were depriving yourself of air, though the shock mainly comes from how uncomfortably empty your mouth has become, so suddenly.

“Let me fuck this pretty throat, love. Y’gonna let me do that?” Care laces his voice and it’s near hypnotizing, so much so you’re entirely deaf to the slightest tone of mockery beneath it. “Be easier on the both of us.”

You nod as best you can with a spinning mind, and it’s so utterly desperate that it would surely bring shame to your name. A pleading mantra repeats itself in your mind, running through every possibility you can think of that consists of him using you in ways both pleasant and torturous, yet all landing around the same area; if he feels good, you do too. And if you’re on the brink of passing out from whatever he’s subjected you to, and you keep going because nothing would kill you worse than to fail him? Well, then he feels pretty fucking good himself.

He leans forward to abandon his cigar; it’s not like he needs both hands to use you however he’d like, no. He just loves to have his touch encasing you, feel the way your head gets heavier and easier to maneuver as you go on. Leaning into him, drooling all over his palms; the more control he has, the better.

The big hand on the back of your neck is moving up to lock into your hair, a snicker being heard from above as your mind goes numb. He spares a quick glance at the door, returning to you as fast as he left.

He’s a mixed blessing; he cradles your face in his calloused palm and collects your hair in a messy ponytail, the roughness of his skin alone speaking volumes of what he’d do for you. How he’d always protect you, before he’s tugging tight and pulling you up to your knees and off your haunches, impossibly and overwhelmingly closer so you can better gag and choke around him without backing out.

You take your own hand from his cock and land it on his knee, giving him full reign.

“Good girl.” He eases you off of him before he’s slowly pushing you back down, this time with added inches of his cock in your throat. Both of his bruty hands encase your head like he’s just come into possession of a priceless jewel, and in his eyes the analogy doesn’t lapse far from the truth. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

He repeats the process until he’s fully fucking your skull like a fleshlight, though ever-so nice with it. He keeps the same pace you had set for yourself, and he refuses to push you entirely down to where your nose would make contact with the ending hem of his fleece zip-up. At least not yet, anyways.

You open up the best you can for him, until you’re scared your jaw will lock up on you or even unhinge. You squeeze a thumb in your fist, curl your toes in your steel-cased boots, ship your mind off to somewhere else. Remind yourself over and over how much you value his pleasure; anything to keep your body from rejecting his bully of a dick in your mouth.

“That’s it, lovie. Easier like this, ain’t it? S’just like I told you.”

You spiritually agree, convinced that this was your true purpose in life. If you aren’t pleasing your superior—the one who has always been there for you to lean on, cry on, save you from your own stupidity—then you aren’t really living.

“Christ. Letting me use this tiny mouth like you’ve got no shame, eh? No dignity?” He laughs in your face, and you’re only able to flutter your droopy eyelids in response, tear after tear overflowing to your cheeks with each blink. He pushes your head down rougher. “It’s a good thing ya don’t…be no fun if you actually gave a shit ‘bout your humility. Your fuckin’ career…just so you can be your captain’s perfect, little fucktoy.”

He’s laughing again; he doesn’t give two shits right now, as he’s pressing your head down and fucking your face harder than ever. He’s murmuring more to himself than anything. “Don’t know if I should scold you or applaud you for it.”

He pulls you off him for a moment and you catch your breath like a madwoman, coming close to choking on the saliva that pools in your mouth. Tears fall freely from your burning eyelids, rolling down your cheeks and dripping onto his cargoes while your pinkened, glassy eyes don’t leave his worshiping ones.

He’s prying your jaw wider and pushing you back down before you can even think.

“Cryin’ and gagging ‘round my cock isn’t gonna make it any better, honey.” He grinds his teeth, telling you sweetly, “C’mon, you’re almost there. You’ve got this, baby.”

Your jaw hurts like hell, a familiar soreness you could never learn to simply get used to. Though, it’s a pain you so easily ignore each time. You suck it up and pull through like the good soldier you are, wishing for it not to go unnoticed by the teacher. And he always notices, just like he does your breaking and pleasure points. He wouldn’t push you terribly too far.

One of his hands falls to land on your neck, thumb reaching around until his grip is fully and loosely wrapped around your neck. Until he feels the bump of his cock moving in and out of your esophagus under the pad of his thumb, protruding up and down beneath his knuckles. It gets him higher than any drink or cigar ever could, even the rush of a battlefield can’t compete.

“Fuckin’ A, sweetheart, that’s it. Perfect, little thing.”

You’re doing too good of a job for him to even think of making a snarky comment about how much you must love having him so deep down your throat. He knows the answer well enough, and it shows through the glistening tears in your eyes and the willing, faithful hands practically anchored to his knees.

His grunts become more gravelly and common as he gets closer to finishing. It’s a prospect that bubbles deep in your belly, like his orgasm was worth far more than any pleasure to yourself at this point.

“Tell me. Y’want me to paint this pretty face?” he proposes, all exasperated but still so fucking cocky. You’re dizzy, lightheaded, every other word that could be used to describe the out-of-body feeling of him treating your body so harshly, in the nicest, most giving way possible. It’s visceral, really.

“Or should I come down this throat instead?” he pants. A smirk plasters itself onto his lips, though you don’t think it ever left in the first place. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond, apart from your strengthening grip on his knees and the flexing and tightening of your neck muscles around him. He scoffs above you, but it’s loving. “Throat it is.”

It’s only a few more thrusts of pushing your head down to the base of his cock until his hand is stuttering in its movements, and he’s holding you in place as he spills his hot cum down your raw throat. A deep, long groan emits from his own, and it’s well-earned music to your ears with the way it vibrates in his throat as his head is thrown back. At least, the bits of his high that aren’t drowned out by your own struggling are a nicer gift than you could ever ask for.

You can’t breathe as he does this, and it’s even worse than when he was relentlessly shoving his cock down your throat; you can only think to swallow until he’s satisfied. You can only writhe and cry beneath him and try to savor the feeling of making him feel so good, until you have no choice but to beat your hand down on his muscular thigh to let you up for air.

He listens, but not without a laugh that would make him seem evil if you didn’t know him well enough as the compassionate captain with a warmer heart than most would imagine. He rips your mouth off his cock, yanking your head back at a rate that has you stumbling backwards on your ass and palms on the hard floor, under his old, wooden desk.

He watches on as you feverishly catch your breath, him as well but not nearly as crazed as you, gasping for air with your chest heaving up and down and a hand clasped to your neck. Attempts at blinking away your teary vision, your other hand soothing over your strained jaw; all the while, he’s shoving his softening, spit-soaked cock back in his pants and zipping them up with a predatory visual hold on your pretty form.

Once he’s got his fix of staring and you’ve caught up to a somewhat stable reality, he helps you. “C’mon, darlin’.” He reaches a hand out to you and you take it, smaller fingers being enveloped by his strong ones. He tugs you up gently and matches the action with a benign, “Up here, now.”

You wipe your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your free hand as he pulls you up onto his lap. Your back leans up against his shoulder and the armrest of his chair, legs hanging off the other side like the bridal-style position. He wraps his big arms around you, knowing your head is still far up in the clouds.

“Did such a good job for me, love. Y’know you always do. One of your best goes yet, don’t ya think?” His hand replaces yours with a duty, thumb swiping over and around your lips to clean you up so tenderly. “You feelin’ quite alright?”

Your mind is beyond numb, words that actually spill coming nowhere near what you’d actually want to say; pour your heart out about how much you’d do for him, how much he means to you. It’s all indescribable. “Mhm…always good f’you.”

“Awh, sweetheart.” His face matches yours with a grin, but the broken grogginess in your voice doesn’t go disregarded. “My poor girl fucked her throat raw like she wanted and now she can barely talk, eh? Is that right?”

You nod drunkenly, still with that needy pout in your demeanor that had him babying you like it was his only responsibility.

He brings the glass of whiskey from his desk and to your mouth, pressing the rim against your puffy lips rather harshly. He’s already beginning to tip the glass towards you, so you have no choice but to open up a bit wider and take what he’s offering. “Take a drink,” he tells you, and you listen.

He actually laughs, watching how you wince and whine from the burning of the hard liquor tainting your throat. Similarly to how his cock was only a moment ago. “Atta girl.”

Something about the control that comes with directing your next move, and your innocence to it, your compliance; it all has his mind elated. The only thing he’s sure of is that he likes it, far more than he probably should. You’re gonna get him in some serious trouble, one day.

You adjust your body on his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his, burying your face in his neck to escape whatever was not him. His beard tickles your skin, and his huge, welcoming frame beneath you grounds and stabilizes you so comfortably like no other.

He brings a hand to drag up your back, tracing your spine a couple times before he palms the back of your head to keep you close. Truthfully, he wants to stay like this until morning.

“What now, pretty? Tell me what you need, anything.”

“Just wanna stay here with you.” You nuzzle in closer, attempting to absorb all of him and be devoured by his being. Your voice is muffled and mumbly due to being pressed up against his neck, “Promise I’ll be quiet while you work.”

He chuckles a light, sincere one, words muttered quietly for the close proximity. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

His eyes land on the door to his office; blinds closed, thick wood and metal sure to keep any noise of your endeavors from reaching the ears of any unsuspecting individual on the other side. He squints his eyes. The door is indeed unlocked, but he can’t seem to view that as an issue anymore. So what if someone were to walk in and see the two of you like this? It’s far past the peak bureaucracy hours of the day, anyhow.

His thumb soothes circles on the back of your head, and he can tell you’re calming down more by the second with the way your chest is gentle against his and your pulse has slowed. “I don’t mind that one bit.”

#cod mw2 #john price #captain price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price smut

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rebelspykatie · 9 months

Text

Soulmate AU Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Four | Part Five

Steve doesn’t see him, bent over the hood of the car, elbow deep and sweat dripping from his forehead despite the cool breeze. He makes a frustrated noise and there’s an ominous clanging sound. Eddie’s never been good at sitting still, at minding his own business, especially when it comes to Steve. He feels pulled towards him, wanting to help, at his breaking point with this tension between them.

Maybe it’s the universe intervening or maybe Eddie has no self preservation skills when he stops behind Steve and asks, “Need a hand?”

Steve startles so bad he hits his head on the hood and curses. When he turns around, he stops and sucks in a sharp breath. “Eddie.” He looks back at the hood of the car with eyebrows furrowed. “How hard did I hit my head?”

“I can help.” Eddie moves closer and peers into the car.

“With my head?” Steve is rubbing at it now and Eddie’s beginning to wonder if he’s concussed.

“The car.”

“Oh.” Steve steps aside, giving him a strange look, and lets Eddie work on it, undoing whatever Steve thought he was fixing and addressing the real problem. Steve’s too quiet. And Eddie’s never been good with silence, either.

“I’m sorry I ruined your life.” Eddie says, so quiet he’s surprised Steve even heard it. It’s not what he meant to say. It tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought. Something that’s been on his mind since Steve came back to school looking like the thought of Eddie being his soulmate ripped his bright future right out of his hands.

He doesn’t pull himself up to look at Steve. He can’t. Just stays bent over, working on fixing the car, and screaming inside his own head at his stupidity. He can’t even get this first conversation right, no wonder Steve wants nothing to do with him.

“Ruined my life?” Eddie does finally turn around at Steve’s tone. The way it sounded like a question, like he doesn’t know exactly what Eddie’s referring to.

“I know my name’s on your wrist. I know it’s probably the last name you wanted there. Fate is a cruel bitch attaching you to me like that. I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Wheeler and that you’ll have to lie to everyone about whose name is there for the rest of your life. You deserve better than that.”

“You-” Steve rubs the back of his head, blinking slowly, “you think you ruined my life?”

“Not showing up to school for a week was a pretty good indicator that I’m not what you expected,” he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant even though he’s dying inside.

“Is that why you didn’t talk to me for a year after my name appeared on your wrist?” Steve glances down at the cuff on his arm. “Because you think I deserve better?”

Eddie nods and Steve scoffs.

“So you made that decision for both of us? What about what I wanted?”

“You were dating Nancy and we’ve never talked in four years of attending the same school. You’re a jock and I’m just a freak. Why would the golden boy of Hawkins want anything to do with me?”

“I’m so sick of people thinking that they know what’s best for me!” Steve yells and Eddie jerks back. He’s never seen Steve snap like that. “Every single person in my life thinks they should have a say in who I should be with, but what about me? I waited eighteen years to find out what name was going to appear on my wrist. I didn’t care if it was Nancy, Tommy H, or you, or anyone else. I just wanted to find out who that person was, so I could prove to myself that fate isn’t just a bunch of bullshit like it is with my parents.”

“Steve, I-”

“I just wanted someone to love me.”

There’s a charged silence that hangs in the air, only the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing echoing in the empty parking lot.

“Is that all you see me as? King Steve?” Steve spits out the moniker with venom. And he sounds mad, but his face is doing this thing that Eddie’s never seen before, eyes glassy and lower lip trembling. He looks ready to come apart at the seams.

Eddie takes a moment to think about it and he already knows what his answer is. He’s had a whole year to watch Steve, unbeknownst to him. Steve’s never bullied anyone as far as Eddie knows, but it’s more than that, he’s kind and soft in ways that most of the school doesn’t recognize. Eddie’s seen it from the privacy of his trailer as Steve pulls up to take care of the Mayfield girl when her mom’s on a three day bender. Or that time he caught him carting around a whole car full of preteens that dragged him into the arcade like he was their big brother.

His traitorous little heart has been falling for him this whole time. Quietly picking out all the ways they could fit together, even if Steve never wanted any of this. Eddie had resigned himself to yearning, to imagining a life together that was just out of reach. He doesn’t dare to hope that he’ll have more than that.

“No, you’re more than King Steve.” He nervously fiddles with a strand of hair, pulling it in front of his face. “Or, you’ve never actually been King Steve, I don’t know, man. You’re just so- uh, so wholesome and I’m this.” He waves a greasy hand at his ripped jeans and handmade hellfire shirt. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called wholesome before,” Steve huffs out a laugh, face softening with Eddie’s honesty. “You’re not a freak, Eddie. And I don’t think we’re all that different.”

“That’s a good one.”

“No really,” Steve takes a step closer and it takes all of Eddie’s willpower not to turn tail and run. “You were right about one thing, the universe is a cruel bitch, but I don’t think that it gets it wrong very often. I was afraid that you’d think I’m boring or annoying, like you always yelled about in the cafeteria. Just another dumb jock. Thought you’d laugh at all my silly, romantic notions. But I do want those things.”

“You want romance…with me?”

They stare at each other for a moment before Steve nods.

This can’t be happening. He must be having an out of body experience.

“I’d like to try, at least. It may not always be perfect, or easy, but I want to try if you’re open to the idea.” Steve looks determined, nodding once like he’s made up his mind. “Eddie Munson, can I take you out on a date?”

Part Four

Thank you so much to everyone for the overwhelming support on the first two parts of this. I am truly blown away by it all. I’ve never had anything take off like this and there’s so many of you (hi, thank you for following). There were so many requests for tagging on the last post that there’s no way I could fulfill them all, so I’m so so sorry to anyone that might’ve been expecting that. I decided just to not tag anyone to be fair.

Hope that this eases your broken little hearts some, and get ready for some extra fun fluffy goodness soon.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #katie writes

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homeofthelonelywriter · 4 months

Text

K.I.A. | Oneshot

(A/N) This one could really hit hard. Please take care of yourself.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: lots of angst, death of a loved one, depression, grief, alcohol, comfort in the end

Synopsis: I don't think there is a need for a synopsis. The title says it all.

It was supposed to be fine.

It was supposed to be safe.

“It’s going to be a quick and easy mission, love. I’ll be back in no time.”

That’s what he had said.

That’s what he had promised.

But he lied.

The mission wasn’t quick. It wasn’t easy. He wouldn’t be back in no time.

He was dead.

Killed in action, an honorable death.

To hell with them. To hell with their honorable death. Death isn’t honorable, death is death. And now he’s gone. And I’ll never see him again.

It’s his funeral and I can’t even look at them. The ones that survived. Price, Soap, Gaz. They all came back but he didn’t. He didn’t and he never will.

They hand me a flag, folded into a triangle. If I could, I would throw it at their heads. If I could, I would yell at them. If I could, I would I hit them. But I can’t. I can’t do anything, but stand there, hold that stupid flag and cry while they fire off their shots. I can’t do anything.

Well, I can do something. I can lie in bed. I can cry, a lot. I can ignore my hunger until I almost throw up. I can see his shadow, trick myself into thinking that he’s back. That he’s alive.

And I can think of him. Of all the good memories. How we met. The first time we kissed. How he asked me out. Our first date. The birthday he gave me the puppy.

The puppy…at the though of Riley, I sit up. At least until I realise that my mom took her after the funeral. She was safe, cared for. I was alone. So fucking alone.

I don’t know how much time passed, a week? Maybe a month. Perhaps even two.

I finally get up and take a shower. I smell after all.

The shower feels incredibly small without Simon behind me.

And that’s how I start crying again. I sit under the stream for what feels like hours before I finally find the strength to get out and dry off my body before falling back onto my bed.

But now it’s getting better.

I take showers from time to time.

Sometimes I even eat some food. I don’t cook anything, everything I’ve had, had spoiled by now, but I just order in.

It’s been four months since Price stood at my door and told me he was dead. That Simon would never come back. And I’ve finally found a way to dull the pain.

Alcohol isn’t the answer, of course. But for now it’s the only thing that is making me feel even slightly alive.

I spent most my day at the bar nearby, what else am I supposed to do?

Home makes me think about Simon.

Work makes me think about Simon.

Hanging out with my family or friends make me think of Simon.

We had never gone to this bar together, so I’m safe here. And the alcohol drowns out my thoughts of him. Well, most of them anyway. At least it leaves enough sense to find my way back home.

It’s become some sort of ritual. Get out of bed, get dressed, go to the bar, get shitfaced and go back home.

Today isn’t any different. Why should it be? But why…does it feel different.

I usually spend multiple hours there, but today I just want to get back home. After I pay for the drink I actually had, I make my way home. But I feel watched, the whole way back. At least I’ll feel better as soon as I’m in bed.

I unlock the front door and walk inside, not paying any mind to the big shadow standing in the hallway, or to how similar it looks to Simon. Instead, I lock the door behind me and shrug off the jacket I’m wearing, hanging it up.

I walk past the shadow and to the staircase leading up and to the bedroom I share…shared with Simon. But something stops me. One word.

“Love?”

I freeze not moving a single muscle. It can’t be him. But it sounds like him. But he’s dead. But it looks like him.

Stiff, almost like a robot, I turn around and look at the shadow. And I see Simon.

“You’re not real.”

I shake my head and start walking up the stairs.

“Love, it’s me. I’m sorry, I-”

I cut him off as I spin around and slap him across the face. That used to get rid of the hallucinations, but…he’s still here. His head whips to the right from the impact, but he doesn’t move.

“Simon…”

He looks at me. He is here. So I touch him.

I place my hands against his chest, against his beating heart.

And it is beating. He is alive. He is here.

I move my hands to his shoulder. They are as broad and hard as I remember.

I move them to his neck, feel his pulse. He is here. He is alive.

“Simon.”

I only realise that I’m crying when Simon lifts his hands and carefully wipes them away.

“Simon.”

A sob wracks through me and I let him wrap his arms around me.

Another sob and I let him pull me closer.

My body shakes as he holds it to his.

His body. Firm and warm. Hard, covered in muscles.

He is here. He is alive.

“You were dead.”

He tightens his hold on me.

“I know, love. I know.”

I claw at his jacket, trying to get him closer.

“I cried for you.”

Again, his hold tightens.

“I know. I wish I could’ve done something. All I could do was watch.”

I continue to cry and sob in his arms.

At some point, Simon picks me up and carries me upstairs. But not to the bed. To the bathroom.

Carefully, he sets me down on the edge of the bathtub before he turns on the shower. With hands, as gentle as I remember them, he undresses me, before he undresses himself.

He navigates me into the shower, before he carefully washes me. All the while, holding me close and consoling me whenever I have another break down.

And then, he leaves me there. He leaves the water on and it feels like he’s gone again. Maybe I just imagined him. Him being here. Him consoling me. Him taking care of me.

But I didn’t.

He joins me in the shower again after ten minutes.

“I just changed the sheets real quick. Let’s get you out of here, princess.”

Once again he picks me up and carries me to the edge of the bathtub. He had placed a towel there, so I don’t feel the cold of the metal when he sets me down.

Carefully, as if I were made out of porcelain he dried my body before he pulled one of his old t-shirts over my head. Once he is dry as well, he carries me into the bedroom and places me on the bed, before he gently tugs me in.

“I’ll be right back, my love. I’ll just get you a glass of water.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and is about to walk away when I catch his wrist.

“Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

He turns to look at me and opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“Simon, please. I…I can’t loose you again.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks again. And this is what he needed.

He nods and climbs into bed beside me, immediately pulling me close against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I’ll never leave you again. I promise. Never again.”

I nod but continue to sob into his chest. And this is how I fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning, alone in bed.

“Simon? Simon!”

Without thinking, I try to rush to the door, but my feet get tangled in the sheets. I fall to the floor, but get up immediately.

Please let him be there. Please let him be alive. Please.

Please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple-

“Love? Are you alright?”

He is here. He is alive.

“You…you are here. You are alive.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His arms immediately wrap around me and support my weight completely.

“Ssh, it’s okay my love. I’m here. I promise you I’m here.”

Like a baby, he started to gently bounce me up and down until I slowly started to calm down. Now I know why that works on babies.

For the rest of the morning, I stay there, wrapped securely in his arms, while he cooks pancakes and cleans the dishes. I even eat in his arms.

And even after that, I’m hesitant to leave them. But I do. I let him set me down on the couch and watch him as he flies through the house and cleaned the messes that had accumulated since his ‘death’.

His ‘death’.

“Why?”

Simon stops in his tracks and turns to look at me.

“Why what, my love?”

I sigh, already feeling bad about asking this question. But I need to know.

“Why did you fake your death? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Now Simon sighs. He puts away the broom and sits down next to me.

“There was a mole in the 141 and we had to flush them out. This was the only way we could think of. I’m so so sorry love. I promise, I tried my best to get them to change their mind. Or to at least let me tell you, but the mole…he had to buy it and…”

“They were afraid I wouldn’t fake it well enough.”

Simon nods, sadness clear in his eyes.

I nod. And I can’t say that I don’t understand. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating him. I just never thought it would go that far.

“Si…please never do that again.”

He shakes his head and picks me up, putting me down on his lap.

“Never, princess. I’ll never leave you again. I swear on my grave.”

At that statement I pull back slightly and look at him. His lips were pulled into a slight smile. And then I start laughing.

“You are such an idiot.”

Simon chuckles and nods before pulling me back onto his chest.

“I’m sorry, love. I just couldn’t help myself.”

I shake my head and cuddle into him and I know this is going to be alright. We are going to be alright.

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

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

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aeneaans · 7 months

Text

never real enough

synopsis: neuvillette is in love—he wishes he wasn’t.

word count: 758

c/w: angst, no comfort

a/n: i wrote this in like. maybe an hour and did not edit it at all please bear with me

He had always known there was a great divide between the life of a human and a life like his—a dragon. His days seemed to be endless, yet, one of a human’s was so short lived. Was it pity that he felt? No, humans still managed to make the most of their short life. So what was this feeling that resides in his chest now?

It was almost suffocating, the thought consumed him for days, weeks, even. The concept of love, a novel idea made by humans—or so he thought. It was until he met you, which seemed like yesterday. It’s been a few years since the two of you met. It didn’t seem like a long time until she mentioned it almost a month ago.

“That’s right…a month. It’s been a month since my Lady Furina—” He immediately cut himself off before he could finish his own thought. These frivolous thoughts have been plaguing his mind for no good reason, he thinks.

He clenched his fist, unable to focus on the documents that lie neatly across his desk. You haven’t visited in a while. Though, nobody in their right mind would. It’s been pouring for the past two weeks, which is usually no surprise for most citizens of Fontaine, but this was different.

Archons above, this wasn’t just rain. It was practically a flood, to put it lightly. The trees were blown by harsh winds, the few functioning Aquabuses left delayed. There wasn’t a single soul in sight if one were to look out the window, if you could even see anything beyond the heavy rain.

It didn’t hit him until recently, but give him some time. He’s not good at these things. Love: a distant, alien concept to the unmovable, unbiased Iudex of Fontaine. And yet, there could be no other possible explanation for this—this feeling. He thought he was ill at first, yes, illness was the only possible answer. He went to every doctor in Fontaine and, no, not a single proper explanation. So he turned to his last resort—Furina.

“Dear Chief Justice, you can’t possibly be serious.” Is what she had said to him. “You’re in love!” And as stupid it sounded to him, it was the only logical explanation. His cheeks flushed when he saw you, his heart beating at abnormal rates whenever you say something cheesy to him…Yes, it was love.

Typically, humans would be flustered. They were in love? It isn’t to say that he wasn’t flustered at first, but then reality hit him. You’re a human. He’s…not.

It simply wasn’t meant to be. Humans are fragile—their lifeline only a tiny fraction of his. Even if you were to return his silly feelings, what then? What would come of a relationship? He doesn’t understand how he could possibly be a good lover, nor could he ever even be loveable at the least. What would become of him once you leave this world? The mere thought of you dying—leaving him—scares him. He lowers his head, gripping his pen harder, staring at the puddle of ink he left on the page.

“That’s right, there’s no use pondering this matter… I’m thinking ahead of myself.” Is what he thought.

Every single day, he reassured himself. If he was the only one that was affected because of his unrequited feelings, then that’s fine by him. He could bear it. So why does he still feel this crushing feeling on his soul—his very being? After all, there’s no chance you could even begin to love someone like him. Someone as awkward, unfeeling as him? There’s no possible way.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how someone like you could ever—!

No, forget it. Self-deprecating thoughts aren’t any good for him.

“Don’t always think so low of yourself, yeah? It doesn’t do any good.” That’s something you told him. Something you told him.

***

Something you told him. Yet another month had passed, this time, things were drastically different.

Why did you have to make things so hard for him? You could have just kept it to yourself, like he had. So why? Why did you tell him how you felt?

It poured harder than ever before when he saw the look of complete and utter disappointment on your face when he said the words he did. He didn’t think he’d ever feel such despair, but he did.

“It’s okay.” You smiled, pursing your lips.

No, it wasn’t okay. How could any of this ever be okay? He didn’t understand anything, nothing at all.

After all, Neuvillette is far from being ‘human.’

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette angst #neuvillette x you #neuvilette genshin

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tropes-and-tales · 2 years

Text

Take Care of You

Day 6: C*ckwarming (Steven Grant and Marc Spector x F!Reader)

(For the 2022 Kinktober event offered by @the-purity-pen. The original post and calendar/list can be found here.)

CW: Dub-con (technically); light angst; smut (c*ckwarming; PiV, unprotected; shades of dominance). 18+ only.

Word Count: 3786

He can never tell what is real and what’s not. What’s a dream and what is reality.

He wakes up every morning feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. Days slip past him with no recollection; he feels like a stranger in his own life. Sometimes he feels as though he’s not in control of his body—he wakes up with bruises he can’t explain, cuts he can’t explain.

Once, he wakes up with a dislocated shoulder. That was a tough day, trying to convince the doctor in the A&E why he didn’t have a convincing reason as to why his shoulder was out of joint.

He can’t tell what is real and what is not…save for one thing.

You.

He had seen you around the museum—you worked with the coins and medals. He saw you at the café all the time. You had the same hollow-eyed, slightly desperate look of a fellow insomniac, and you’d even made eye contact a few times, nodded at him and offered a shy smile.

Steven never once spoke to you, that he could recall. Yet…months after noticing you, you stopped by the gift shop and spoke to him. Asked him if the two of you were still on for dinner the next night.

He had been absolutely flummoxed. He never asked you out, and he opened his mouth to tell you so, tell you that he had no memory of even speaking to you, let alone asking you out on a date.

It was like someone else answered for him in that moment.

“Absolutely,” his mouth said.

That was months ago. An awkward first date: him bumbling, you shy. You were both earnest, though, both lonely and sweet, and the second date was less awkward. The third even less so. He opened up over time about his sleep issues, about how he lost time and struggled to feel tethered to this reality. You opened up too—you had your own issues with insomnia, with sleep paralysis and sleep walking. You made him feel less alone, less like a freak.

And now here you were: grounding him better than any line of sand around his bed, better than any ankle restraint.

“I’ve lost days again,” he whispers in the dark of his room. He knows you hear him: you pause as you undress.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Steven shakes his head. He feels the salt of tears stinging his eyes. He hates whatever is wrong with him. Hates losing time, losing days. Losing his mind.

“What can I do to help you?”

He’s so tired. He’s exhausted to the very core of himself. It’s not just a body tiredness: it’s his soul, his spirit, that is fatigued too. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep for days, yet he’s lost days and hasn’t seen you. He also wants nothing more than to curl up with you, lose himself in you.

He tells you so. He tells you that he’s so tired, but he hasn’t seen you for days. You hum thoughtfully at that, and there’s a lot going on in that hum, but Steven doesn’t have the energy to explore it…and you don’t expound whatever you are thinking.

“Let me take care of you,” you finally say, and in the darkness of the room, he feels the mattress dip down as you crawl into bed. He feels your hands on him—gently taking the hem of his t-shirt and urging him to sit up so you can remove it. Then the same with his sleep pants—the way you tug at the drawstring at his waist, then tap his thigh for him to lift his hips.

“I don’t think I can—” he starts to protest weakly, but you shush him softly.

“Let me take care of you,” you repeat. Your warm hand is on him, grasping him lightly, and he’s already growing hard even from such a tame touch. “Will you let me do this for you, Steven?”

He gulps, nods. He feels a queasiness in his stomach—he hates to disappoint you in bed, hates to think he takes more than he gives, but he knows he doesn’t have the energy to do much other than lie there.

Still, you’ve never held it against him before, the other times he’s fell short to the task. The times he came too soon, or fell asleep while making out…or the times he’s stood you up, lost track of days…

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers in the darkness, and you lean down to kiss him. It’s sweet, gentle. There’s no heat to it. It’s a sweet kiss, a grounding one.

“You can worry about that another day.” One hand is stroking him lightly, but the other reaches up and brushes the hair off of his forehead, and you kiss him there, just above his furrowed eyebrows. Then a second and a third until he relaxes and the furrows smooth out.

Steven takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, through his nose, as he was taught to help himself relax. He pushes as many of his worries aside for later, and it’s easier because his focus is on your hand, the light grip you have on him.

His lust notches up a degree at a time, and it’s still something of a foreign feeling. He had little experience before you, had always thought himself a romantic first and foremost…but he finds that he craves these moments with in you the darkness of his bedroom. He craves the intimacy of your body, the way you touch him, the way the two of you fit together so well.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, and he nods eagerly. Breathes out that yes, it is, and when you release him and straddle him, when he feels the slick heat of you…

“P-please, love,” he stutters, even though he knows he can’t offer you much, that you’ll have to do all the work…

It always bowls him over when he’s inside you. When he pushes into you, when you mount him, the way your molten heat envelopes him. You go slow now, take him bit by bit, and when he’s fully seated in you, he huffs out the breath he is holding.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers. You lean down, press another sweet kiss to his mouth, and tell him the same.

Steven expects you to start moving, but you don’t. You stay still aside from the gentle kisses you press to him: to his mouth, to his cheeks and forehead. To the spot under his ear and the sides of his neck. And then you nestle your head against his chest, right under his chin…and you just lie there.

You must feel his confusion. You whisper in the darkness, “does this feel okay?”

“Y-yeah.” It does feel okay. No, it feels great. Just…different. Without any motion, suddenly he feels more sensitive than ever. He swears he can feel his heartbeat—or maybe it’s yours, or maybe your heartbeats are in sync—where you are joined. He can feel your slick arousal coating him, pooling at the base of him, and every so often you twitch against his length, making him bite back a groan.

“Let’s stay like this, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Okay. Okay, yeah.”

“Think you can fall asleep like this?”

“Maybe.” He turns his head a little and buries his nose in the crown of your head, takes a deep breath of your hair. You use a lavender shampoo, a soft floral that soothes him. He can feel himself calming already, despite the situation: his heartbeat slows, like it’s synced with yours. His breathing syncs with yours too. You’ve grounded him, and Steven shifts his head enough to kiss your temple. He wraps his arms around you, strokes your bare back.

You’re better than any ankle restraint. Better than a line of sand around his bed. You ground him, weigh him down, and Steven relaxes. In his mind, he starts to slip off into sleep, but in reality…

He gives control over to another.

*****

Marc tries so hard to protect Steven.

He keeps up with the ruse of the gift shop job. He feeds his goldfish. He sends postcards from his “mother,” maintains that lie to cover the painful truth.

When Steven spends months pining over the same woman with dark circles under her eyes—Marc recognizes a fellow insomniac when he sees one—Marc handles that too.

He puts on his best attempt at Steven’s accent. He tries to act like Steven: stutters and stammers and trips over his own feet when he asks you out.

Asking you out isn’t protecting Steven, though. It’s something else entirely.

Marc wants Steven to be happy. To not just survive but to thrive.

Sometimes Steven gives up control and Marc has to play along. The first time you and Steven made love, for example: Steven fell asleep, Marc woke up beside you. The time you made a date to ride the London Eye: Steven with his fear of heights slipped off, Marc had to step in.

Marc does it because he wants Steven to be happy. Not because he has any feelings for you. You’re not especially his type, too milquetoast, too boring, and Marc watches from the shadows as you and Steven go through your boring courtship.

Until…

Until you start to grow on him too.

For Steven, it was love at first sight. For Marc, it was a slower thing.

You take good care of Steven, and Marc loves you for it. You are gracious in understanding his flakiness, even if you don’t understand what causes it. You are kind and gentle with him, patient with his fumbling, patient with his low self-esteem. You tease him gently; you encourage his interests. You learn to cook vegan meals for him. You spend entire evenings listening to his excited ravings about Egyptian mythology and gods and goddesses.

But there’s a sensual side to you too. A slightly darker side that tests boundaries (the night you talked Steven into using the ankle restraints on you, for example). It’s nothing extreme, but it’s a bit of shading that gives Marc a better understanding of you.

Like tonight, the feeling of you enveloping him. Steven is grounded by it; it relaxes him and calms his racing thoughts, calms his racing pulse. Marc feels the moment that Steven starts to cede control, and he takes it happily. Takes control a little greedily, because while it was a slower thing to fall for you, Marc is selfish with these rare moments he gets to be with you.

He thinks you’re asleep. You’re a heavy weight on him—the heavy weight of a lax body made soft with sleep. Your cunt feels heavenly, gripping him like a velvety fist, your arousal mingling with his own pre-cum and sliding out of you to pool on his groin.

Marc is selfishly glad that Steven was too tired to spur you on for more. He wants just a little for himself, just to spend some time inside you, to feel the soft flutters of you against him.

The thought makes a spear of guilt lance through him. Steven deserves this and more: he deserves you. You make him happy, and Steven is such an innocent walking through the world. Marc keeps him safe, but you make him happy.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your hair. He breathes out the words quiet so he won’t wake you. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

He realizes too late that he’s blundered. Your sleep is always thin, fragile. You stir against him, your breath tickling against the side of his neck.

“Take care of who?” you mumble.

“Me,” he whispers back, slipping into his best approximation of Steven’s accent. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“’Course.” You turn your head, kiss his throat. It’s sweetness like this, your gentle kisses that Marc would have scoffed at even a year ago. That saccharine bullshit that Steven laps up, that Marc is too good for…usually. Usually.

Usually he’s too good for it, but Marc Spector is lonely. He carries the burden of Steven, carries the burden of all those memories. He carries the burden of the reality of their lives. He carries the mantel of Khonshu’s justice. And usually he’s fine, he’s strong.

But sometimes he’s lonely.

So sometimes he slips on Steven’s accent like a too-tight coat. .

He pretends he’s Steven because you love Steven. Marc wants to feel that, even for a moment, even if he can’t quite admit it to himself.

“Still can’t sleep then?” you ask, your voice a husky whisper in the darkness.

“No.”

“Did this make it better or worse?” Marc can hear the smile in your words, the playful lilt.

“Kinda hard to fall asleep like this, innit?” he replies in Steven’s accent.

“Hmmm.” You kiss his throat again, your petal-soft lips ghosting over his pulse point. “Seems that I miscalculated.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Pretty rude of me,” you continue, not acknowledging him. Another kiss to his throat, then you shift your head and kiss him below his ear where he—and Steven—are both ticklish. He squirms under you, and he feels the huff of your silent laughter.

“Rude of me to not let you sleep,” you add. You whisper in his ear, let your breath ghost over him, and he breaks out into goosebumps. “Should I…”

You trail off, leave the question unfinished. The meaning is clear, though. You raise yourself a fraction off of him, and he reaches out quick, his mercenary skills giving him that lightning-fast reflex as he grabs you around the waist. He resettles you against him—bites back a groan at the bit of friction as you slide back onto him.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

“Don’t you dare,” you echo back, mimicking him. “Did you know you sometimes talk with an American accent when you’re riled up?”

Marc ignores the icy shard of fear that lances through him. He’s always so close to get caught, especially in these moments. It’s easy to pretend to be Steven for the boring shit—the gift shop job, picking up take-away from the vegan place—but it’s so hard not to be fully and completely Marc right now.

So he embraces it. Doesn’t bother to pull on Steven’s accent when he growls in your ear again. “Why am I bothering to talk then?”

His hands still on your waist, he rolls over with you, steadies you and rolls you with him. It’s a move that Steven would never even consider, not understanding that he even has the strength for it, but in a split second Marc has you on your back. He is still buried in you; he’s arched over you, and when you gasp at the sudden motion—when you gasp out the wrong name, squeal out Steven!—he dips his head and kisses you hard.

He’d never consider fucking you like this if he hadn’t watched all those times through Steven’s eyes: all the times you took a sweet moment and shaded it just a bit darker. The times you’ve used the ankle restraints. The time you convinced Steven to deal you a few light swats to your ass. The time you visited Steven when he was working in the gift shop, brushed a sweet kiss to his cheek and then slid your panties into his pocket on the sly.

You shade those sweet moments with the barest bit of darkness, and Marc wonders if you can take more.

He pushes his tongue into your mouth, insistent, and he smiles inwardly at how eagerly you press back against him, tasting him just as fiercely. He doesn’t move inside you. He just stays buried, still just letting you cockwarm him, but you twitch against him, and his resolve steadily weakens.

“You want this?” he whispers in the darkness. He can just make out your face: the whites of your eyes, the pouting lower lip as you take hitching breaths.

“Y-yes.”

He nips at the side of your neck, then bites you firmer, presses his teeth into your soft skin until you whine. Fuck, you whine so goddamned pretty. He’s never heard it before. You’re usually the one gently coaxing Steven out of his shell, such soft, quiet words and tones for him, but your whine has a thread of need in it. There’s a pitch to it that sounds needy and wrecked.

“You think you can handle it?” He shifts his head, bites the other side of your neck. Gives you a matching mark to the other, then soothes it with the tip of his tongue.

“Yes. Please.”

You whine so prettily. You beg so prettily. Marc obliges.

He reaches down and hooks a hand under your knee, hauls your leg up until it is over his shoulder. He repeats the motion, pushes your other leg over his other shoulder until you’re practically folded underneath him, the toes of your feet pressing against the wall behind the headboard.

He never knew you were this flexible. You’re completely vulnerable. Completely exposed. He can look down and see where he disappears into your heavenly cunt, and his hips stutter forward. He presses himself deeper, buries himself as deep as he can, and you cry out at the feeling of him.

“Too much?” he asks darkly. “Can’t take it?”

“I can,” you breathe out. There’s a ragged edge to your breath, harsh. “Please don’t stop.”

“Beg me for it.”

“Please. P-please!”

Marc lowers his head, presses a soft kiss to your pouting mouth. “Such a needy little thing,” he murmurs against your lips. “This how you saw the night going, teasing me with that sweet pussy and not expecting me to use it?”

“I…I w-wasn’t trying to tease you,” you whisper back. Your eyes are wide in the dark, and Marc realizes he’s overplayed his hand just a bit. Just a little. He has to channel Steven at least a little bit.

“I know,” he replies, and he kisses you again, even softer this time. “You take good care of…me.” He almost slips up, says him again.

“I try,” you agree, nodding. “I love you, Steven. I just want to take care of you.”

Marc tacitly ignore the I love you, ignores the painful twist in his chest when he hears it. You don’t know he’s not Steven, and he doesn’t have the heart to break the situation to you right now.

He doesn’t have the heart to end these moments either. These stolen moments where he takes over for Steven and gets to be with you too.

“Let me take care of you,” he replies, and he kisses you again before he starts to fuck you in earnest. He planned on being rougher, faster, but he slows the moment down. Keeps his thrusts slow and deep, draws almost all the way out of your tight heat before he pushes back into you. Pushes and pushes until he is flush against you, until every blessed inch of him is buried in you. He’s so deep that he can barely feel where the two of you are joined, where he disappears and you begin.

Like the two of you are one.

Schmaltzy shit like that…that’s Steven’s thinking. That walks a dangerous line to romantic bullshit.

In this position, you can’t move much. You reach out with your hands, grip his biceps as he pushes you closer and closer to your climax. He can always see it when you’re with Steven, a silent voyeur sharing a body with his alter, but these rare moments he can feel it too. He can see the way your face tenses up, the way your breathing gets erratic. But he can feel you, and it’s so much better: the dull bite of your fingernails in his arm as you grip him, the way your skin heats up. The way your cunt tightens, flutters along his length, coats him in your own slick cum.

“Come for me,” he orders. “Let me feel you coming all over this cock.”

You do—his words set you over the edge, and you shudder beneath him. You cry out, and he feels the way you grip him so hard, making it difficult for him to keep the slow, deep thrusts going. So he sinks into you as far as he can, stills. Feels every twitch and spasm of your orgasm.

He had the idea of drawing it out, of being more dominant. Giving you what he thinks you want, all the ways you play around with submission with Steven. He had the idea to make you come over and over, pulling them out of you, ordering you to come again and again until you are exhausted. He doesn’t realize that deep down, he—Marc Spector, not Steven Grant—is trying to take care of you, in his own way.

You are an insomniac, after all. He sees all the ways you take care of Steven. Even if he can’t admit it or even really see it, Marc wants to take care of you. Wants to exhaust you, body and mind. Wants you to curl up against him and get good sleep, restful sleep.

His plan falls apart. Still inside you, feeling your orgasm along every inch of him, it takes him right to the edge. He manages a few more thrusts then feels the tight coil of his own tension snap. He comes inside you, deep, and something about the sensation pulls a second, weaker orgasm from you.

-----

Even if he doesn’t exhaust you with some dominance display, you still fall asleep. Marc has no idea if it’s restful or how long it will last, but after the two of you clean up (and after you sweetly put the ankle restraint back on him, as if that would solve anything), you nod right off against him.

Not before you mumble another I love you to him.

Marc is still in control. He’s still running the show. He rubs your back, presses a kiss to your forehead. He waits until your breathing evens out and deepens.

He waits until you’re asleep before he says it back to you. “I love you too,” he whispers, so low that he won’t wake you from your thin sleep. He can’t admit it any other time, can barely even admit it to himself most times, but right now—sated from the sex, sad to know that you thought it was Steven the whole time—he can admit it.

#tropes-and-tales #tppkinktober2022 #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #moon knight

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