#! dub con
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look at us (but do not touch) bc it intrigues me pls
wip ask game
dead doves and creepy johndean dub con under the cut <3
John shifts a little closer, then; his good, unstitched hand widens its reach, fingers splaying over Deanâs ass. His hips grind forward of their own volition, seeking friction, touch, he needs touch; his boxers feel crush-tight around his cock, it presses into Deanâs when the angle is just right; he grits his teeth, the contact sparks up into his guts, a microdose of euphoria.Â
Dean makes a sound too. Almost a moan.
âSuch a good boy.â Johnâs a little drunk with it, when he sees that blush-light-up look on Deanâs face again. âAlways my good boy, arenât you?â
Dean shivers, licks his lips. That lit-up blush over his face again, like he just took a hit of something; the equivalent of what John feels, maybe. Dean deserves good things.
John grinds again, canât help it, itâs not enough; âTake off your clothes for me, sweetheart?â
Dean says, âOkay.â
He reaches for the hem of that ratty t-shirt. He does it; he knows he doesnât have to. John registers that, he clings to that. He doesnât know what heâd have done if Dean said no.
His nightstand is already stocked up. Maybe itâs just an old habit; he didnât plan this, anyway. He retrieves a small bottle of lube. He picks up the condom stashed there, too; decides to leave it where it is. He wants to feel Dean, and itâs not like John can knock him up; and maybe Dean isnât quite as promiscuous as he used to be, maybe John hasnât caught wind of a girl in a long time, and maybe thatâs a thought itâs not the time to entertain.
Dean is naked by the time John closes the drawer. Heâs lying on his back, head on Johnâs pillow, fingers interlaced at the base of his ribs. John takes a moment for the sight; because his boy really is lovely. Two pink nipples waking up to the draught from the mould-flecked windows, the clear outline of muscle even at rest; the diner diet plumpness of his belly, the contrast, adds to the charm. Soft young flesh, interrupted by scarring in places; fresh and old scrapes and bruising, all the collateral damage of the job. And thereâs something about that, the marks on Deanâs body, that John kind of likes. A reminder that heâs not so alone after all.
John climbs back onto the bed. Runs his sore-bandaged hand down Deanâs chest, twisted hunger; murmurs, âLook at you. My little boy.â
He smiles, canât help it; because Dean is his little boy, he always will be, no matter how big he gets, no matter how horrifying their world - and Dean smiles faintly, like heâs pleased to know it. Then his eyes stray to the bottle in Johnâs hand, and his lips thin out.
It gives John pause. Itâs more complicated than asking his boy for a handjob, or rutting into the gap between his thighs; but John wants to be closer than that tonight. He wants it all, the most.
John ooks just short of Deanâs eyes as he asks, "Has anyone ever done this to you before?"
His words linger across the pause Dean leaves. Then, a soft, âNo.â
John wonders, idly, if his boy is telling the truth. Realizes, louder, that if he is, that means John will be the first person to - and if John shudders, he hopes it doesnât show. Itâs not a dirty thing, not like that. Thereâs just something about the thought of being the first person permitted to be this close to his boy. Something about that is good. Soothing.
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A mask of my own face
I love this photo itâs so silly :>
Summary:
reader is worried about ford and his recent... outbursts. they decide to check on him, but find him at the wrong time, or rather, they don't find him, but someone else in his body.
basically: reader gets fucked by bill cipher in ford's body and kinda likes it.
(the title is the song by lemon demon bc it fits)
Warnings: non con elements/ dubious consent, rough smut, p in v sex, some fluff at the end, a little angst but itâs fine in the end
also crossposted on ao3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ford was acting⊠different. More distant than usual, moreâŠ. Off-putting.
He always had a sort of off-kiltered charm in the way he interacted with you, always flipping between being overly confident in himself, and tripping over his own words at the sight of you. Like something in his brain didnât compute that you were together, that you were his. You got used to this after a few months of dating the researcher, and it evened out for a bit⊠but now it seems heâs reverted back to his old ways, from before you started dating.
One second he would be holding you tight, saying how much he loved you and wanted you by his side for the rest of his life, but then the next he would push you away to go âmeditateâ in his lab. He would stay there for hours, only coming up for more coffee. (and strangely enough, to shove forks into his hands when he thought you werenât looking)
You decided that enough was enough when one evening you realised you hadn't seen him all day. He must've gotten up before you to go to his lab, and hadnât come up since then.
You went on a search for him all around the house, hoping he wasn't in that god-forsaken lab, but it seems god wasnât on your side.
When you found him, you saw him sitting hunched over at his desk, writing something down aggressively. You tried to gently touch his shoulder, but the movement caused him to jump so high up from his chair he almost hit the ceiling. You, of course, were startled by the sudden movement and took a step back from him.
He slowly turned to you and his faceâŠ. His eyesâŠ. Something about them was wrong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep on his part or your worrying, but you could swear his eyes looked⊠off. They were slightly different than you remembered, but you decided to brush it off for the time being, more focused on talking some sense into your boyfriend.
âHey ford? Can i⊠talk to you?â you said gently, trying not to frighten him again. He shook his head a bit, as if trying to shake off some grub from his face and turned to you with an annoyed look. âNot now, honey . Canât you see I'm working?â He said the pet name with a mocking voice, as if he was making fun of you for thinking youâre more important than his work.
âI know you are, but you're starting to worry me⊠when was the last time you ate? Or drank water? Or even went to the bathroom?â you tried to push back the uncomfortable feeling threatening to overtake your words, your voice slightly shaking when you asked him the questions.Â
âIt doesnât matter . All that matters is finishing this pageâ and with that he went back to his desk, sitting down and ignoring you as if you didnât exist.
Now you were starting to get angry. âWhat do you mean it doesnât matter? Your health is important! If you don't take care of yourself then you wonât live to see your progress come to fruition!â you put your hand on his shoulder again, more firmly this time. âI made you dinner. Now youâre going to come with me, eat dinner, drink some water and go to sleep. Do you understand?â you turned him around in his chair to look at you. He seemed to flip through several emotions before deciding on one. You didn't quite know what it was, but he was smiling, so you thought he might have finally come to his senses and decided to take a break.
You were only half right.
âYou know what? Youâre right, toots. I'll take a break, but only if i can take you tooâ he brought you onto his lap in one swift, strong motion and put his lips against your neck. The sudden movement made a chill run up your spine. You didnât know if you were more turned on or worried, but ultimately decided that maybe thisâll help ground him and bring the ford you loved back.
You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him passionately. It took a moment for him to register what was happening until he kissed you back, hungrily kissing you and suddenly biting at your tongue. It wasnât something you were used to, and it definitely surprised you, but it wasnât unwelcomed.
You pulled away a little and he went back to attacking your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving various marks that made your breath hitch. His calloused hands started exploring your body as if it was his first time, awkwardly angling his fingers to touch every part of you from your ankles to your shoulders, and finally down to your breasts.
âGod youâre mine now, arenât you?â The question confused you, since youâve been dating for a while now, but you decided to go along with it. Maybe it was a new kink of his âyes iâm all yoursâ you punctuate your point by gently scraping your nails down his chest and onto the waistband of his pants. He groaned at the feeling of your nails on him, his chest puffing up to meet your touch. You chuckle at his desperation. âSo needy⊠youâve missed me, haven't you?â you tease him lightly, but it didnât affect him like it usually does. Instead he seems⊠unfazed âsure i haveâ he then picks you up and moves you so youâre lying chest down on his desk, and heâs behind you, pushing your middle down so your ass is up in the air for him.
He stands up and you can hear him opening his belt buckle behind you. He seems to be struggling, so you try to turn to him and help him, but he only pushes you down more. âStupid.. Human⊠clothes⊠ughâ you hear him mumbling, but you canât say anything when you suddenly feel his cold hands under your shirt, feeling you up. You moan under his touch, then hiss as he pinches your waist in an unpleasant way.Â
âHey-ah!â you try to scold him, but are interrupted by the feeling of cold air hitting your sensitive area. Ford has pulled down your pants and underwear, and is now angleing himself behind you. You moan as you feel him push himself against you, his chest flat against your back. It takes him a second to push himself inside you, but when he does, he fills you up immediately.Â
You groan at the sharp pain mixed with the pleasure of having him inside you after so long without him. Before you register what's happening, he starts thrusting into you wildly, with no rhythm or consistency. You try your best not to moan, but it's hard when you feel him pushing into you in such a harsh way.Â
He holds your hips firmly, trying to stop your squirming. âCome on- ah~ do the thingâ you hear him grunting behind you. It feels so good, but the statement still confuses you through the fog of pleasure. What does he mean by âthe thingâ? Your train of thought is stopped when his hand travels to your throat, choking you a little. The sudden feeling of lightheadedness makes you even hornier. This doesnât feel like something ford would do, but damn it turns you on.
His thrusts start to even out, he doesn't slow down but now they have more of a rhythm. With each one the desk starts to creak under you. Itâs straight up animalistic the way he pounds into you, holding onto you like youâre his toy, only used for his pleasure. You feel him twitching inside you, getting close to his release. You clench around him the way you know he likes, and suddenly he cums inside of you. You feel the pleasure inside you come to a peak as he continues to thrust at the same pace, even though he just came.Â
The pleasure quickly turns into overstimulation as he continues at his rough pace, not letting you go until he finishes inside you again. Your moans turn into screams as you can't even form a coherent thought. At this point you almost reach a second orgasm, but when he suddenly pulls out at you, youâre forced to come down from your high. You whine at the loss and turn around to see him with his hands up in shock, looking down at you guiltily.Â
âWhat's wrong ford?â you look up at him with lustful eyes, wanting him to continue.Â
âI.. uh- nothing is wrong! I'm sorry!â What is he apologising for? âItâs alright, but can you please continue?â now you were frustrated, hoping he would get the hint and continue fucking you.Â
âYe-yeah sure.. Of curseâ he gently put his hands on your hips, almost hesitating before feeling you up. He gently runs his hand down your stomach and lands on your thigh, stabilising you before slowly entering you. You moan at the sudden change in him. âWhat has gotten into you- ah!â you moan as he softly circles your clit with his fingers while he starts thrusting into you. You put your hands around his neck and he buries his head in your chest. You hear him mumbling something but you canât understand it.Â
He starts pushing in and out of you gently, and the stark contrast from just a second ago makes you confused. What is with him today? You try to dwell on it, but when he starts kissing your chest, fondling your breast with his mouth, your thought process is cut short.Â
Thanks to his expert fingers on your clit and his even thrusting, you go over the edge. You moan his name as you pull him up to kiss him. It all feels like too much as he stops moving, focusing on kissing you. He pulls out shortly after, taking his time now.
âDoes this mean youâre gonna take a break? I think dinner is getting coldâ you say softly, kissing his cheek.
âWhat? Oh yeah- yeah- of course honeyâ when he says the pet name this time, it feels genuine, like it just rolls off his tongue naturally. You look at him, and find his familiar eyes looking back into yours- slightly confused but loving and caring. This is your ford. The one you fell in love with.
You try to pull yourself off the desk but your legs start wobbling, so ford takes you by the waist and guides you up the stairs. âIâm sorryâ he apologises once again, but you reach up to stroke his cheek âitâs alright, i kind of⊠liked itâ
You see a flicker of something dangerous in his eye before it switches to looking terrified, then concerned. âWell.. I'm glad you liked it, but I don't know what came over me. Iâm still sorry if i hurt you, my dearâ you thought he might be hiding something from you, but that was a discussion for another day. For now, you got your old ford back, and thatâs all that matters.
âItâs.. alright. Just give me a warning next time. Jeezâ you laugh a little, and you see he starts to relax against you.Â
âYeah.. iâll tryâ he seems to be lost in thought, but as you enter the kitchen and he sees the dinner you made him, he suddenly loses his train of thought and looks at you like you just brought him the moon.Â
âThank you! Thank you! Thank you so much! I'm starving!â he picks you up and kisses you, slightly wincing as he feels his muscles tense up after not being in use for who knows how long. He lets go of you and you both go to eat. Youâll have to talk to him sometime soon about your worries, but you stop yourself when you see the look he gives you; full of love and adoration, like youâre the sun to his earth. You decide to confront him another day. You wouldnât want to ruin a perfect dinner, would you?
#ford pines#ford pines x reader#gravity falls#stanford pines#stanford pines x reader#dub con#tw dubcon#ford pines smut#smut#i wasn't expecting to post so soon after my last fic#but ig im inspired
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It got deleted again đ
Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.
Heâs always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.
Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing heâd ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.
Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldnât stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.
He didnât feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, heâd steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.
You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.
âOne more, Bonnie,â he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, âA need one more, please.â
#x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap x reader smut#soap x reader#dark cod#tw: dark content#dark content#tw dubcon#tw: dub con#tw: dubcon#dub con#dubious consent#cw: somno#tw somnophilia#tw: somnophilia#cw: non con#tw noncon#tw: non con#tw: noncon#non con#dead dove do not eat#soap smut#Cbf!johnny#john soap mctavish smut#ambiguous age
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The Pit
COD masterlist Part 1/2 - Part 2
Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.
Winter in the mountains can be cruel.Â
This is something youâve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knifeâs edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.Â
Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.
There are predators who thrive.Â
âYou closinâ?â Your coworker, the new one, asks from where sheâs settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.Â
âI am.â She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. Itâs snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.Â
âYou still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?â You nod.Â
âYeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.âÂ
âFall River? Is that even open right now?â Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one heâs been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.
âIt is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And itâs Friday. Iâm not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.â You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. âIâve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.â Andy snorts.Â
âLike you havenât been gettinâ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.â You nod. Heâs not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like âokay thanks for the concern, weâre done nowâ and he sighs. âWell, drive safe.âÂ
Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. Itâs closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.Â
Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. Thereâs another road. A less maintained option, but⊠youâll be fine. Youâve driven in worse.Â
The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. Youâve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.Â
Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.Â
An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that youâve now realized youâre the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. Youâve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, youâre pretty sure, although you canât be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.
Still, wonât hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.Â
You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. Itâs not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.Â
Youâre so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, itâs far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.Â
Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driverâs window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like youâre still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.Â
It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.Â
Youâre going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you donât have service, by the time they find you, itâll be too late. Youâll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-Â
You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.Â
You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.Â
Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, youâd think it was too bright. Youâd say it was blinding.Â
But you canât formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.Â
Sleep.Â
Youâre drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if itâs slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.
There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain thatâs followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes wonât open. Your mouth wonât work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that canât quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. Youâre drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one thatâs infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.
You try to call for help, but you canât.
You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.
Youâre dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or youâre already dead.
Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, youâd think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.Â
Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.
Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-
You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?
Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.
The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing youâre tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.
Youâre also awake long enough to truly experience the pain youâre in.
One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.
Thatâs when you see him.
A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.
âShhh. Weâre not goinâ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye wouldâve died out there.â He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident⊠memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. Heâs pretty. âCan ye follow my finger?â He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. âI know, I know.â Thereâs a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You canât even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. âGood love. Well done.â You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing youâve ever seen.
âThose bones need setting.â He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.
âMaybe tomorrow. Iâm still worried about the concussion.â His thumb cards across your brow.
âItâs been three days, Johnny. Canât put it off too much longer.â Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? Youâre starting to fade, trying to focus on what theyâre saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until youâre losing the battle to sleep.
It's snowing.
You donât have to see to know. Thereâs something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains⊠your mind.
You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. Itâs what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.
This snow feels different. It doesnât feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare⊠one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? Whatâs happened?Â
And why do you hurt so fucking bad?Â
âYouâre awake.â A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadnât as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. âEasy.â He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize itâs the brown eyed man, the bigger one. Heâs sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.
âWhere⊠am I?â You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile thatâs racing up your throat.
âAre you going to be sick?â He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. âTell me.â
âN-no, I donât-â You canât even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and heâs springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.
âItâs alright, thatâs it.â A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.
âNnrgh-â
âI know, I know. Poor thing.â He coos, and it sounds⊠endearing, so sweet yet⊠frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.
Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.
âHurts.â He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. âIt hurts.â
âI know it does, sweet girl, I know. Weâre going to fix it.â A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.
âPoor baby. Were ye sick again?â Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after youâve had a few sips with a gentle ânot too much.â
âWho are you?â The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if itâs well water, maybe?
âIâm Johnny.â Heâs setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you canât turn your head to look, and canât quite catch it from your peripheral. âAnâ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callinâ him that quite yet.â Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why canât you remember?Â
âWhat happened.â You try again, gritting your teeth.
âYe had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Yeâre lucky the one didnae impale ye.â Impale?
âAnd you found me?â You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?
âAye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.â Home?
âYou donât have to worry.â Simon, the bigger one, tells you. âWeâre going to take care of you.â Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.
âI donât⊠why-â
âStorm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.â You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess youâre lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.
âThank⊠thank you.â Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This⊠this is not normal? Are Scottish people just⊠more affectionate?Â
âWant ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.â What?
âDo what?â Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. Heâs got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?
âBite down on this, precious.â Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.
âDo what?â You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.
âYour femur is broken.â A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. âAnd I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.â
Oh. Oh no.Â
âN-no, no, you⊠you ca-canât.â You stutter. They canât. A doctor should be doing that, shouldnât they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong⊠intimate in a way that makes you shiver. âPlease. Please, please⊠donât-â
âItâs alright.â He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you yeâll be alright, that yeâre with them now, and theyâll take such good care of ye.Â
âTake a deep breath.â Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.
âYeâll probably pass out, bonnie. Weâll get the second one done while yeâre down, and I already gave ye somethinâ for the pain.â He assures, like itâs supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simonâs grip.Â
This canât be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-
Thereâs a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw itâs way out of your throat. You think youâre crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-
âWeâre sorry, weâre sorry.â Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.
You sleep and wake in a haze.
You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.
You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.
You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, itâs lovely. Itâs comforting. Even when youâre rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.
You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. Youâre too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then thereâs a void of emptiness around you.
You sleep.
You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something thatâs consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.
You sleep.
You wake. Theyâre there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.
âHey there, dove.â Johnny whispers, smiling. Itâs a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. âMade ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethinâ?â Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. âYe need to eat. Been givinâ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.â
âI- I donât understand.â You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.
âYouâve been in and out consciousness for the last week.â Simon explains, and your eyes widen.
âWhat?â Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.
âWe had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.â
âYou⊠you drugged me?â You stammer, and Simon smiles, but itâs not sweet like Johnnyâs. Itâs severe. Itâs dangerous.
âSoft calluses form around fractures, after theyâve been set.â He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. âYour breaks arenât in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.â
âYe willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but weâll help ye.â Johnny assures. âWeâll be here for ye, as ye get better.â The words donât compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:
âWhereâs my phone?â Thereâs a flash of discontent in Johnnyâs features, but itâs quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.
âI imagine itâs somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We werenât exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.â Simonâs hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all⊠as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.Â
StillâŠÂ
Didnât Johnny kiss you?Â
The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.
The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnnyâs face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. âI canât.â You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.
âAlright, ye did good.â Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.
âTired?â Simonâs already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. âYou should rest.â Youâre too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.
You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.
Youâre content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.
âSh-sh-shhh.â Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. Itâs strange, like youâre exposed, half floating like youâre high, and half spiraling through your pain.
âItâs okay, weâve got you.â Theyâre repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. âJusâ need to get you clean.â Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. Youâre naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.
Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.
âDo ye like that?â Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. âDoes that feel good?â Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simonâs jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.
Youâre naked. Theyâre fully clothed.Â
âWeâre goinâ clean this up a bit.â Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?
âMy⊠my-â you canât even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.
âYour hair.â Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel thatâs been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. âIf youâre a good girl for us,â Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnnyâs palm, âweâll give you a treat afterwards. Howâs that sound?â
âA treat?â Â You squeak, and then whimper, Johnnyâs fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.
âYeâre alright.â He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. âItâs natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.â He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.Â
âPleaseâŠâ you whisper, but youâre not sure what youâre asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize whatâs happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream thatâs lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.
âI- I donât want you to⊠shave me.â You whisper. You donât want them to touch youâŠÂ there, and the panic thatâs pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.
âWe have to take care of you, sweet girl.â Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. âIt will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.â He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. âStay nice and still for us.â They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain thatâs radiating from your broken bones. Itâs been so, so long since youâve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didnât want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. âAlmost done.â Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. âI know, I know. Youâre beinâ so good. Such a good girl.â Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. Youâre paralyzed, helpless, and yetâŠÂ soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.
âI think ye need some relief, dove.â Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. âPoor thing is so swollen, Si.â
âDo you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?â Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.
All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnnyâs shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.Â
âWill ye show me how?â Heâs eager, and you frown, confused.
âJohnnyâs never made a girl come before,â Simon tells you gently. âYouâll be his first.â Oh my god. âWill you help him? Tell him what feels good?â Your brain melts. You donât know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like heâs exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.
âShe likes that.â Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.
 âNice anâ slow at first, when youâre rubbinâ her clit. Feel how hard it is?â He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnnyâs head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. Itâs sweet, and affectionate, like theyâre the only ones in the room, in the world⊠and youâre intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like youâre a bystander. Or a doll. Itâs confusing, your brain trying to sort everything thatâs happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear thatâs nearly made you dizzy. âSee how her little hole is clenchinâ like that? Itâs âcause sheâs empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, sheâll get real tight.â He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. Theyâre pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.
âFuck.â You hiss.
âThatâs it.â Simon coaches. âAre you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?â You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldnât. Youâre trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until youâre drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.
You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them itâs too much, youâre too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnnyâs wrist and pulls his hand away.
âWe canât overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until sheâs healed up, hm?â He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that donât make sense.
What just happened?
You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. âWhat a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.â He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like youâre made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.
The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. Itâs dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You canât get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. Youâre overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then thereâs a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnnyâs, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.
âSweet dreams, little dove.â
#peaches writes#dub con#ghost x soap x reader#soap x ghost x reader#ghoap x reader#john soap mactavish#ghost x reader x soap#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#Ghoap#soap x reader
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sweet creature
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, mild dub-con, wolf!leon, bunny!reader, predator/prey, chasing, brief blood mention, praise, biting, sliiight dacryphilia, scent kink, breeding kink, knotting, p in v, creampie, oral(f!recieving), fingering, like one threat and mention of eating reader lmao
a/n: hiii! wolf x bunny fic as promised :) gonna be so real idek if i really like this or hate it LMAOOO my brain is so fuzzy from uni coursework and i have an exam tomorrow but the writing vibe hit so here we are!! as always, hope you enjoy <3
word count: 2.4k words
The weather had been awful the past couple of days, forcing you to retreat to your burrow. Your food sources are running low, making you resort to scavenge as soon as the storm clears slightly. It's a bit later than you'd usually venture out, but you really needed to find something to tide you over.
The rain is still falling, but not as heavily as it has been. It still has you shivering softly as you explore the forest, gathering what you could. The weather wasn't great for foraging - your sense of smell was dampened by the rain, and the darkness made it hard to see. At least you'd have some food for another few days. Hopefully the weather would clear up by the time you needed more food.
You're just about to head back when you hear a branch break behind you. Your head snaps back, your floppy ears perking up instantly as you listen for any more noises. You catch sight of movement, and then you catch a whiff of an unmistakable scent.
A wolf.
Your basket falls from your hands as your heart starts racing in fear, eyes trained on the grouping of trees as a low growling noise sounds. As soon as the wolf moves towards you, you dart off as fast as your legs will take you, weaving through trees and bushes to try and escape him.
You can hear him hot on your tail, which only makes you want to run faster. Your lungs burn from exertion, tears stinging your eyes as fear runs through you. You just need to lose him and reach your burrow, if you just turned in a few feet, you could use your smaller size to weave through the low branches and get away.
You're too late.
You sob as soon as you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you off the ground and tugging you against a firm, muscular body. You begin to struggle instantly, clawing at his arms and kicking your feet out.
âShh, shh.â A deep voice whispers, rumbling the chest behind you. âIt's alright, little one.â
You feel a nose brushing against the skin at the side of your neck as the wolf inhales deeply. You tremble in his grasp, but you stop struggling when you realise it's not getting you anywhere.
âPlease. I just want to go home.â You say quietly, your voice shaking as you speak, tears streaming down your face steadily.
âYou can. I won't hurt you.â He promises, his wet tongue sliding out of his mouth to lick your neck a few times. You can't tell if he's trying to comfort you, or taste you.
âI was going to eat you.â He continues, grip tightening on you as if he sensed that would make you panic all over again. âBut you smell too fucking good. And you're so damn cute. Sweetest bunny I've ever seen.â
He has you pressed so tight against your body that you can feel him hardening against your ass, his nose still buried in the crook of your neck. His lips curl back and he lets his teeth brush your neck threateningly.
âI promise I'll be good to you.â He coos, setting your feet down but keeping a tight hold on you. One of his hands slides up to your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. âI just want to play with you a little bit.â
He grins as he makes eye contact with you, his sharp canines on full display and glistening, even in the dark of the night. âWhat's your name, bunny?â
Your name comes out in the form of a pathetic squeak, your entire body trembling in his grasp. Your heart races fast as adrenaline pumps through your body. You open your mouth again, your lips quivering as you go to speak. âPlease, just let me go.â
âLet you go? Of course.â He says instantly, giving you a smile that would seem sweet if it wasn't for the predatory glint in his eyes. âBut don't I deserve a reward for winning my prey? It wasn't very nice of you to run from me, little one.â
You sniffle softly, your face crumbling slightly when you realise he's not letting you go unless you give him what he wants. Your nose twitches slightly, your ears drooping at his words. âI'm sorry.â
âOh, that's okay, sweet girl. You didn't mean it. It's natural for a bunny like you to be afraid of the big, bad wolf.â He says with a chuckle, leaning down to run his nose along your cheek.
âIf you listen to me, I'll be gentle.â He coos, licking a stripe up your cheek, groaning at the salty taste of your tears.
âIf you don't⊠well, I'll sink my teeth into the back of that pretty neck of yours and take what I want.â He growls, the expression on his face darkening. âWe don't want that, do we?â
You shake your head quickly, a full body shiver running through you. He slowly releases you, and you fight every instinct in your body to run. It's clearly the right choice, because his expression softens again and his chest rumbles with a gentle growl.
âThere we go. Knew you'd be good for me, sweet girl.â He breathes out as he brushes your hair away from your face, his touch far too tender considering the situation.
He leans in, pressing his lips to yours. One of his hands moves to your floppy ears, playing gently with it. He kisses you gently at first before his lips are trying to pry yours open, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You let your eyes shut, kissing him back. As the two of your tongues slip together, you accidentally brush one of his large, sharp teeth. Your heart jumps, but this time you're not sure if it's fear or something else, because your panties are becoming damp and sticky with arousal.
Your fingers twitch, and then your hands are moving on their own, planting themselves firmly on his hips. He growls softly into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip before he pulls away, pawing at your tits through the fabric of your clothes as he sucks on your neck.
You whimper softly, your head falling back on its own to give him better access. His hands start wandering, and then he's tugging off your clothes, ripping them in the process. The cold air hits your skin, making goosebumps prickle your flesh. You shudder, and he tugs you closer to him, letting his body heat seep into your body.
What a gentleman.
âHow the fuck do you smell so good?â He groans, his nose trailing down your body - over the curve of your breast, then down the soft skin of your stomach before he's burying it between your folds, kneeling at your feet.
He doesn't do much for a moment. He just worms his way between your legs and then just starts sniffing, moaning softly as he does so. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit, and your hips instantly buck towards his face.
âThat's it. Good girl. Knew you'd like it, honey.â He hums against your pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. You'd be embarrassed by how sensitive you were from this whole ordeal if he didn't stick his tongue out and start lapping at you like he was starving, malfunctioning the part of your brain that helps you form coherent thoughts.
âOh-â You gasp, your cotton tail twitching as his tongue dips into your hole, wriggling its way inside. He looks up at you from over his brow as best he can, pulling away occasionally to suckle your clit.
âP-please, mister. S'good, oh god, need more⊠need you, fuck-â He pulls back at your last word, giving your pussy a harsh spank that has you jolting.
âCall me Leon, baby.â He says, rubbing circles into your clit before spreading your lips to give you a smack directly on it. âAnd pretty bunnies shouldn't use such bad words.â He adds, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Leon dives right back into your pussy, happily drinking up any slick that spills out of you while making the most obscene slurping sounds. One of his hands make their way to your entrance, two fingers pressing in with very little resistance due to how wet you are.
You still feel the burn, though. A small whimper falls from your lips as he starts to scissor you open, pressing sweet, open mouthed kisses to your clit to try and get you to stop tensing.
âC'mon, little one. Relax for me. I'm gonna be a lot more of a stretch than any of those bunny boys you've been with. Don't wanna hurt you when I pop my knot in this drippy pussy.â He says with a grin, nipping at the skin of your thighs.
You nod slowly, forcing yourself to relax. He murmurs words of praise and encouragement, flicking your clit with his tongue to ease the feeling. He forces a third finger inside, and your face scrunches up at the stretch. He sucks your clit back into his mouth to distract you, applying suction and flicking his tongue against it.
As soon as he curls his fingers, you're cumming all over his hand and his face, your juices dribbling down his chin. He slips his fingers out with a laugh, spreading them to watch as the strings of fluid cling to his fingers.
âSuch a messy girl.â He says, clicking his tongue with mock disapproval. He licks his fingers clean, standing up and tilting your face up by the chin. He uses a thumb to pry open your mouth, and then he's spitting a mixture of your cum and his saliva onto your tongue.
âSwallow for me⊠that's it. Atta girl.â He hums, reaching down to slip his cock free from his trousers. âBe a good girl and put that ass in the air, baby. Gonna mount this pretty pussy.â
He waits for you to comply, dropping on his knees behind you and spreading your legs further apart. He presses his hand on the small of your back to get you to arch it more, sighing with satisfaction as the tilt of your body exposes you to him even more.
âFuck. You really are a good girl.â He murmurs, pressing the tip of his cock into you. You let out a loud gasp at the feeling, your thighs trembling as he stretches you further than you've ever felt before. Tears spring at your eyes as he continues to press forward, his cock so fat that you're sure he's going to split you in half.
âIt's okay, pretty girl. I've got you.â He says softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back to relax you as he continues to press forward, stilling when he's finally buried to the hilt. âI'm gonna stay riiiiight here, and you can move those little hips of yours when you're ready.â
You nod, cushioning your head with your arms so you don't have to press your face into the muddy ground. At least the rain has finally stopped, and you're not so worried about the cold anymore when every inch of your body is on fire.
After a minute or so you experimentally shift forward before rocking your hips back onto Leon's length. You hear him growl softly, his claws digging into your thighs and drawing blood. It stings slightly, but you're willing to ignore it.
âLeonâŠâ You start, sniffling a little as you shift your hips again, fucking yourself back onto his cock. It feels good, but it's not enough. You know he can give you what you need. âNeed more, please.â
âOh, yeah? Is that right?â You can practically hear the grin on his face, but you don't care. You nod quickly, keeping up your movements. You yelp as you're suddenly yanked back onto his cock fully.
Your cunt sucks him in greedily, fluttering around him as he starts to thrust into you. His hips smack your ass aggressively, heavy balls slapping against your clit every time he jerks forward. He doesn't let up, pounding relentlessly into your heat, mouthing along your back and sinking his teeth into you a few times.
He licks up the blood from each bite mark he makes along your back and neck, grunting and growling as he fucks you. His thrusts get more erratic, and he feels himself getting lost in the feeling of your perfect pussy.
âFuck, bunny. I'm gonna keep you, no way I can let you go after this. Pussy's too fuckinâ good, shit. Wanna breed you so bad. Would you like that pretty girl?â
He groans, the thought of filling you up with his cum making his cock jump eagerly. He thrusts deeper, shifting his hips so he's bullying your cervix with every movement.
âOhhhh, bet you'd like that⊠being filled with my pups⊠fuck, or kits. Don't even care, baby. Just wanna fill that pretty womb up. Cunt's practically milking me, think you want my babies as bad as I do.â
You can barely speak, babbling incoherently. All he can really make out is a few âplease's or âLeon's sprinkled throughout. He can feel how you tense around him, and he knows he's about to fuck another orgasm out of you.
âThat's it, baby. Good girl. Give me one more, and I'll fill you up, yeah? Get you swollen with my puppies. Fuck, you'd be such a good mommy⊠sweet girl. I'll take such good care of you.â He groans, dropping his head between your shoulder blades as his thrusts become sloppy and shallow while he tries not to cum.
You cum so hard you almost push him out, so he's quick to grab your waist and force himself balls deep into you, his knot popping in as he begins to shoot ropes of thick, white cum deep into you. It keeps going, and he grinds against you as he rides out his high, grunting softly when the final spurt fills you up.
His arms wrap around your waist and he lies on his back, ignoring the way mud coats his clothes and the fur of his tail. He wanted you comfortable.
âGonna be a while before this deflates, bunny.â He says softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and licking the skin there in an affectionate manner. âThen I'm gonna take you back to mine and do it again. Make sure it takes.â
You just nod lazily, eyes already half closing.
Yeah. That doesn't sound so bad.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy#resident evil smut#dub con#dark content
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omg please write a piece about reader getting fucked by a ghost i neeeeed it
Hey, anon! Fear not, I shall deliver. I wasn't sure whether you wanted afab or amab, so I went with the usual afab. I'm happy to rewrite it into amab, if anyone wants it!ïŒïŒŸÏïŒ
Edit: Here is the amab version!
Feel free to send me asks and requests or little imagines, I'm always happy to expand upon it, it gets the creative juices flowing a little. ^-^
NSFW, Minors DNI, I can see you.
TW: dub-con
Anyway, enough talk. Here's Reader getting not-so-respectfully railed by a ghost:
When your grandma left you a house after she passed, you assumed your troubles would finally be over, and for a while, they were. When you moved in, things were amazing. You didn't have to worry about rent anymore, and the utilities were surprisingly cheap. It's like you hit the jackpot, finally able to live with a few less worries.
Obviously, when you weren't working or hanging out with the odd friend that came over, you spent your time at home, keeping yourself occupied, mostly by either watching something, playing something, or masturbating out of boredom.
Things continued like that for a while, until you found a rather cryptic note from your late grandma that explained in unnecessary detail how there was a ghost living in the house. She strictly referred to the ghost as "him" and mentioned he was fairly friendly, unless provoked, and even then he would only play pranks on you.
Being the rational person that you are, you chalked it up to grandma being senile and that she was just keeping herself entertained since she lived in the house all alone. It would have been fine if that's where it stopped.
One night, your old friend came over, and you did your usual routine of watching something, and then halfway through, you ended up fucking. That's where it really all began.
The next morning, things were on the ground, not like someone had ransacked the place, but it was noticeable enough, though of course you thought it must've been just your old friend who had knocked some stuff over while leaving in a hurry. When you went to bend over to pick some things up, you could feel something grabbing your ass, and without hesitation, you turned around, only to be faced with nothing. Maybe you were going crazy, you thought; it wasn't an awfully strong grip, so maybe it was something your body did.
This excuse became increasingly less effective as time went on. You felt hands everywhere and at the worst times. Caressing your arms and legs, tracing your stomach and back. Eventually it got to the point where you could feel a hand slipping into your pants, playing with your clit. Of course, you were scared at first. Something was clearly there, and it reminded you of the letter your grandma left you.
You began shouting at the ghost. Telling it to stop fucking around and leave you alone. However, the ghost didn't really care; you broke his one rule that he had agreed on with your grandma, and even if you didn't know, he was going to punish you. How dare you bring another man into his house and have the audacity to fuck him?
His touching escalated the more you allowed him. Eventually you noticed a mouth and a wet tongue licking your neck, tracing down to your breasts. It seemed strange, considering you were usually clothed when this happened, yet it felt like it was touching your skin directly. The licking felt nothing like what your old friend would do, although in truth the sex with him wasn't all that good and really just a way to get fucked every once in a while.
Before you knew it, multiple hands were all over you, joined by at least three tongues licking you. This made no sense; you wondered if there were multiple ghosts. It became increasingly difficult to even find the logic in this when you were constantly being groped and licked. One tongue had found its permanent place on your sensitive nub, flicking and sucking it with every move you made; one was carelessly sucking on one of your nipples, alternating with one hand that usually played with the other one. The third mouth seemed to like making out with you, its tongue constantly shoved in your mouth, wrestling yours.
Despite feeling all these ministrations as if they were real, when you looked at your reflection, there was nothing there. Your mouth was gaping, but nothing was in it; your panties were soaked beyond belief most of the time, yet nothing seemed to be there. But truly, the worst part about it all was that it wouldn't let you finish. Whenever you were just about to cum, the mouth disappeared before continuing its torture. It took about two days before you couldn't take it anymore, pleading with the ghost to let you cum. It didn't listen, though it did use more hands to restrict you when you went to touch yourself before shoving something inside of you.
It wasn't much of a sensation, and you felt it curl, so you naturally assumed it was the finger of another hand. âPlease,â you began whimpering every other minute, your tone getting more needy with every ruined orgasm that he put you through as minutes began to feel like hours.
âI'll do anything,â you finally managed to choke out through tears as he played with your sodden pussy for what you could only register as an eternity again, bent over the kitchen counter, legs held apart, wrists gripped tightly by the ghost. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness; all the mouths stopped what they were doing, and most of the hands disappeared too, except the ones keeping you in place.
âAnything?â A shiver ran down your spine as you heard the noise that you assumed to be the ghost's voice. It sounded distant and more like the wind howling than a human voice, yet you knew immediately who it was. You nodded, the tears running down your face falling onto the kitchen counter, your twitching cunt trying to feel any sort of stimulation now that the mouths and hands were gone.
âYes, anything.â The words came out before you could even attempt to stop them, accompanied by a howling sound, which made you wonder whether it was meant to be a laugh or not.
Another few moments passed before a loud noise forced itself out of your mouth at the sensation of something stretching you open. It was long and thick, covered in strange bumps, providing nothing but the most torturous pleasure as it thrust into your hungry cunt at a punishing pace.
Despite your mind still questioning whether this was okay and logical, your body was writhing against the kitchen counter, hands still held still by him, your legs forced apart as he fucked you from behind. No matter how much you attempted to stop it from happening, desperate, high-pitched mewling sounds escaped your lips at a rapid rate as you felt another orgasm approach, hoping this would be the one to finally let you cum after two days of torture.
âWhat a willing little slut,â the ghost taunted with his howling voice, making him sound distant yet all around you at once. The insults made you mewl louder; something about being used like this by a ghost made your pussy clench harder.
In a small moment of defiance, you glanced back at what might be behind you, but just as expected, there was nothing. Despite your pussy being stretched to an almost painful level, gaping around air, no figure was there to account for it.
Just as your orgasm threatened to spill over, something was shoved into your mouth, making your jaw hurt, before it found its way down your throat, drowning out your mewls and desperate groans.
âBe quiet, whore. I'm not done with you yet.â With those words, your eyes fluttered closed as you let this torture continue for another minute or two, pussy and throat both stuffed full with invisible cocks, bigger than any human's you've ever had. The thought alone was enough to trigger your orgasm, finally sending you over that sweet edge with a loud groan that only came out as a hum. Your body went limp from the impact, and you saw stars in front of your eyes, the ghost holding you up by your wrists as if it were nothing.
Without a word or even a moment to spare, he kept slamming into you, the bumps rubbing against your insides, making you feel like you were stuck in a never-ending orgasm for a moment before it did finally subside, though you could feel the cocks twitch, their movements becoming more erratic and aggressive. You tried to say something, but your throat was simply too stuffed to make any worthwhile noise.
Suddenly, you felt a hot sensation in both of your holes, almost making you gag and cry in pain, as the sheer amount of ectoplasmic seed forced its way into your womb and down your throat, spilling back into your mouth, even running down your chin. Before you could fully register what happened, you were dropped, the ghost probably leaving you to deal with the aftermath. As you lay there, the sheer amount of cum almost formed a small puddle on the ground, your fucked-out pussy leaking more as you desperately tried to swallow the remnants in your mouth.
#ghost x reader#ghost smut#ghost fucker#monsterfucker#monster smut#monster fuqqer#monster x human#monster fucker#monster lover#monster kink#teratophillia#terato#x reader smut#reader smut#dub con#exophelia#afab reader#ghost imagine#smut#gender neutral reader#x reader#reader insert#reader insert smut
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Part 9 of Charmed Slasher Simon
(CW: this is all basically noncon. Like, yeah they had a âdealâ but itâs not like it was agreed on in good faith ya know? Stay safe while reading, please, and let me know if this warning needs to be more descriptive)
You shake as Simon trails his fingers absently along your tummy, amused by the way it twitches, tickling and frightened in equal measures. So much he wants to do to you, but only so much youâll be able to take for this first little triste.
Besides, though not long for this world, thereâs only so much he wants that little worm to see of you.
âYou ever spend so long fantasizing about something that when the moment finally comes, youâre just spoiled for options?â he muses aloud, pinching your nipples through your thin shirt. He can hear the high pitched noises trapped in the back of your throat, tsks at the denial.
âIâm usually a decisive man, you know that, sunshine. But all the things I want to do to youâŠâ
You squirm when he pinches a bit harder, adding a little twist. He shuffles his knee between your thighs and pulls you back, making you grind against his thigh with every involuntary twitch and shudder.
âCould bruise this pretty ass for running out into the snow like that, reckless thing.â You jolt when he palms the plush fat of one cheek. âOr I could just torture your tight little hole. Leave that pretty pussy achingâŠâ
You make a noise like a sob as his thumb rubs through the layers of your pants and underwear. You try to lean away but heâs got such a tight grip on your wrists that all it does is arch your back.
He inches his fingers over the crest of your hip again, dips back to your swollen clit and soaked cunt. Hell, youâre even wetter than before, a sticky line running down your thigh, fabric clinging to overheated skin. He groans against your throat, has to see it for himself.
You try to protest as he yanks your waistbands down to mid thigh, but he quiets you with those same two fingers stuff in your mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles. You nearly gag as he pets the back of your tongue, imagines how itâll feel against the fat head of his cock.
In the firelight, youâre gleaming, something out of a fever dream. He leans you back farther and forces your legs wider with his own, lets the heat caress at the insides of your thighs, the creamy slick webbing between your lips.
âFuck, maybe I should just play with this, huh?â He rasps. âWatched you do it so many times. You donât know how to edge yourself properly, luv. Always let yourself give in too soon.â
You make a startled noise, huge, watery eyes finding his. He chuckles at the mortified question in them, teases his fingertips over your slit.
âYeah, sunshine. I watched you fuck this pretty pussy, cryinâ ân pleadinâ for me,â he purrs in your ear. âTook everythinâ in me to let you have your fun, to keep from showinâ you how itâs doneâŠâ
He circles a finger over your clit, a barely-there brush that makes your pretty wet lashes flutter. Over and over, watches that flush bloom steadily over your face, down your neck. The haze glossing over your eyes.
âHow about that, hm? Weâll start from the beginning and work our way through my list.â
He slips his fingers from your mouth, watches you lick unconsciously at the taste of him lingering on your lips.
âY-youâre not gonnaâŠ?â
He tilts his head, narrows his eyes. Fills in the blanks and canât help growling.
âOh, you want me to hurt you, is that it?â he asks. âYou want - no, you need an excuse to hate me. Youâre hoping I tear you up so that you have an easy out for all these confusing feelings.â
You try to babble out a denial but the shock in your eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He tamps down his anger by dragging his teeth along your neck, working a dark mark into the skin.
You donât know any better, he reminds himself. But you will.
âDonât you worry, luv, there will be plenty of punishment for you,â he rumbles. âBut youâre going to beg me for it.â
You open your mouth, maybe to deny it, but he pinches your sensitive little clit between two fingers and revels in the way you squeal.
He instantly soothes the ache with gentle circles, trailing kisses along your jaw. Tastes fresh salt on your skin.
âBest save your tears, precious,â he warns, smirking. âYouâll need them.â
He parts your lips with two fingers, leaving you open and exposed, groaning through his teeth at the sight of you. Wet and swollen, so needy for him. You try to buck away when he rubs a finger over your clit, firm strokes up and down.
âIf you donât stay still and take it like a good girl, Iâll tie you down and make you be a good girl.â
You duck your chin, eyes squeezed miserably shut as you try to lock down your body. Itâs ridiculously endearing, how you wiggle and then catch yourself, breath hitching as you wait for him to lose patience. He hums whenever you start getting to squirmy, delights in the way you shiver and sink your teeth into your lip. Settle down only for him to change the tempo or the pattern and ruin all your self control.
He amuses himself drawing patterns all over your pulsing clit - circles and stars. Hearts that make your eyes roll back in your head. Zig zags from your weeping hole up to the very top of your slit.
It takes a while for you to truly approach your orgasm with the way he denies you a proper rhythm to build on. But he notices the moment you finally start to reach that peak, not even his reminder to hold still can keep you from twitching and rocking, helpless little jolts of your hips.
He coos. âSo desperate to finish. Is it because you think Iâll be done with you once you do?â
You donât answer, too busy trying to get more friction, more pressure. He lets you rush right up to the edge and then stops, skipping down to circle your hole. Luxuriates in the fresh flood of wetness coating your thighs. It yanks you back like a dog on a leash, your orgasm right there but just out of reach.
You donât even seem to realize whatâs happened for a second, mouth hanging open and a cute little furrow between your brow. When he chuckles, teasing up to that sensitive bundle of nerves again, it seems to click. You shoot him a dismayed look, the most precious hint of betrayal lurking in your glassy irises.
âN-noâŠâ you nearly beg.
He smirks, nips at your puffy bottom lip. âYou can say no if you like. Or even stop. We had a deal, though, didnât we?â
âR-RileyâŠâ
You scream when he spanks your pussy. Not nearly as hard as he craves, but it sends pretty streamers of tears down your hot cheeks. Another, two fingers directly to your clit. You nearly crumple, only his hold on your wrists keeping you upright.
âMy real name, sunshine, or Iâll give you a reason to say no,â he warns.
âS-Simon,â you whimper, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. I didnât mean toââ
He shushes you, petting apologetically at your throbbing core.
âI know, luv, I know. But youâll never learn if I donât teach you right.â
The tears donât stop as he drags you right up to the edge again, bullying through the lingering sting of getting spanked with overwhelming pleasure. When he pulls back a second time, you start up the ânoâsâ again, voice shattered into pathetic little pieces.
âThatâs alright,â he murmurs, âsay whatever you need to get you through, I wonât be mad.â
He gets you so so close once again, cock twitching against your ass as it grinds back against him. But he lightens his touch, not stopping but not letting you fall, easing the pressure up and up and up until even the slightest graze would break you.
Instead, he pulls away entirely to squeeze at the plush of your thighs and hips, cooing over the way they shake for him.
âSimon,â you sob, tucking into his chest. He slows his touches, watching you try to curl into him, chest burning with something bloodier than love. âSimon, please. It hurts.â
He hums, sliding his hand back up to your pussy, massaging your labia. Careful not to touch your needy clit.
âIt hurts, hm?â he croons, unable to keep the mean pleasure from his voice. âIt wasnât supposed to. Where does it hurt?â
You hiccup, sniffle. âM-my⊠myâŠâ
âTell me, sunshine, or I canât make it better.â
You fold a bit, bounce, almost like a tantrum. So out of control on sensation and emotion that you canât keep it together as you form the words.
âM-my pussy. It â I needâŠâ
He hums again, fingers trailing down to your hole. Teases his finger at your entrance and feels it spasming around nothing.
âSo empty,â he breathes. âIs that it, luv? Your little cunt is aching to be filled?â
You shudder on a cry but nod, face hidden against his neck. He lets you, far too endeared by your attempts to find comfort from the man torturing you in the first place.
âHurts,â you repeat.
âDo you hate me yet?â he mocks.
You keen softly. âY-yes.â
A tap to your clit again. If you werenât so strung out youâd probably even find it pleasurable but right now it makes you writhe and beg him to stop.
âDont lie,â he warns, voice low, âwhere are my good girlâs manners?â
ââM sorry,â you whine.
âOne more time now - do you hate me yet?â
Your words seem to get caught up in your throat so you shake your head. Hes tempted - so, so tempted - to make you admit it aloud. But he doesnât want to be too mean, not yet.
âGood girl,â he whispers, âthatâs my girl. You want me to make you feel better now?â
You sniffle again, lean back into him a bit more. âPlease.â
âThere we go,â he praises, ânice and polite. Iâll take care of you, luv.â
Your body is so ready that itâs nothing for him to slide a finger into you, slick already running down his palm.
âN-no no,â you mumble.
âNo what? Iâm making you feel better.â
ââS not â need more. Please, please, Simon.â
Itâs hearing his real name in your small, reedy voice that finally appeals to what little mercy he has. He fits two fingers into your cunt and curves them to rub your silky walls.
âFuck, youâre tight, sunshine,â he groans through his teeth. âYouâre gonna choke my cock.â
You squeal as he starts rocking his hand, fucking you at an easy pace, getting you accustomed to the new stimulation. Starts building up your orgasm again, piece by moaning piece, finding every spot that makes your back bow with pleasure.
âPlease, please, lemme cum this time Simon, Iâll be good, I promise.â
He huffs in amusement, caressing his thumb over your crossed wrists.
âOh baby, you donât have a choice.â
He flattens his palm against your core and pumps his fingers faster, harder. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit with each twitch of his wrist. You get tighter and tighter, voice pitching up and up, until your entire body goes taut, walls clamping down almost painfully.
He strokes you through it, brutal and relentless until youâre screaming at him to stop. That itâs too much. He releases your wrists to wrap his hand around your throat, obsessed with how delicate it feels in his palm. Just the slightest squeeze of his fingers and your eyes roll back. The second orgasm gushes from your abused cunt, all over his wrist and your thighs, dripping puddles onto the carpet.
He loosens his hold slowly, work you over through it, feeling you squeeze and pulse with aftershocks.
When he glances at your pretty, flushed, and tear-stained face, your eyes are shut. Out cold.
He chuckles and gently lays you out closer to the fire, grabs a pillow from a nearby chair to set under your head. Lingers for a moment, rubbing over your back, massaging gently at your shoulders. Your wrists are already bruising.
Then a muffled noise calls his attention.
Brandon.
âNow the second half of the deal.â
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#thoughtsâąïž#cod#my writing#fanfiction#dark fic#reader fic#charmed slasher ghost#final girl reader#non con#dub con
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I meant to re-share this on Friday for the first day of @pollenfest when I saw previously posted things were okay, but then forgot. So anyway here it is again, for the prompt "sex pollen"!
release in sodomy (one sweet moment): Ed/Izzy + sex pollen
Summary: The crew of the Revenge gets captured and during an interrogation attempt, Edward gets dosed with a sex pollen serum. That's not what they meant to do, so the guards lock Ed up with a bound and helpless Izzy. Izzy gets something he's always wanted but could never ask for, for as long as it lasts.
Just in time for Fuck Him On The Floor Friday and Trans Gender It's Friday!!!
The closer Edward gets, the clearer it is that the short time the guards had him was occupied with something. His lip is split at the side, blood smeared over his bottom teeth. A bruise is slowly coming in at his temple on the opposite side. But most concerningly, there is an angry puncture wound in the side of his neck, and his eyes are a fathomless black. "Shit," Izzy swears, his own eyes widening as he presses himself - painfully - harder into the stone at his back. "Fuck." Ed after smoking enough on his pipe for it to alter him is calm, sleepy and a little horny, but Izzy can't imagine their captors have been so kind as to give him something of the poppy. It could be anything, do anything. Hurt him, or make him hurt Izzy more than he intends. Izzy's shoulders pop, his elbows strain, but there's nowhere further to go. Edward's hand closes around Izzy's throat, stopping Izzy's breathing for a moment even though the touch is oddly gentle. His gloves are missing, his bare skin hot against Izzy's. Izzy thinks he can feel both of their pulses pounding at the side of his neck. "Fuck," he swears again, this time his voice coming out twice as raspy, half-breathless. It's been a long time since Edward stood this close to him, even longer since he's done it so⊠non-violently. His grip is firm, possessive, but it doesn't hurt. The warmth of his body seeps into Izzy head to toe, blankets him completely. He's swamped by him, even more so crowded into this musty little corner. Edward hooks his foot round Izzy's ankle and pulls, tugging Izzy's legs out from under him. He catches Izzy behind the knee so that he doesn't go down too hard, so that he lands mostly on his ass, sparing his bound arms. The strangeness of that doesn't fully register to Izzy, given how Ed maintains the pressure of his other hand around Izzy's neck as he follows him onto the ground. "No, wait, Edward, fuck!" Izzy tries again, his words coming faster, higher in his throat. "I didn't, Captain, I swear! I swear." Ed's hand comes away from Izzy's neck finally. Izzy gasps, shamefully loudly, but he knows better than to be relieved just yet...
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The Wrong Ingredient
Severus Snape x Fem!Reader
Summary: As a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, working on creating a new calming draught seemed to be a straightforward task. However, when you accidentally use the wrong ingredient, Professor Snape is more than willing to help alleviate the effects.
Word count: 4k
Warning: smut, fingering, piv, sex pollen (my fav), sort-of teacher/student relationship (reader is 2 years post graduation), mild DUB CON
A/N: Apologies to my followers who are not interested in Harry Potter content. This is my first (and potentially only) fic I am writing for Harry Potter, I just have had an insane infatuation with Severus Snape this week and I just had to write this to get it off my mind lol. Feel free to disregard :)
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The roaring of the snowstorm grew louder by the moment as you tried so desperately to focus on perfecting the potions assignment for the Professor. You were distracted by the storm, entranced by the blanket of white that coated the roof and distant hills. With the halls of Hogwarts empty for the Holiday break, you felt an even deeper appreciation for the warmth and coziness inside the castle.
As a recent graduate of Hogwarts who was now assigned to be a teaching assistant in your second year after graduation, part of your job was helping the professors with their lesson plans. Even if that meant sacrificing part of your holiday break spending the day aloneâŠwith Professor Snape. Persistent footsteps approached you, entering the classroom, followed by the sound of a slamming door. You jolted in your seat.Â
âAny progress?â Professor Snape asked blankly.
During your studies at Hogwarts, you were always fond of Professor Snape. He was cold and stern, something that usually would have made you weary of a person, but there was something about his demeanor and the way he cared for you that created a soft spot for him in your heart. You had to admit, though, he was hard to talk to at times. He was not a man for many words, so even though you enjoyed him as a professor, there was a bit of unexpected tension being alone with him. You could not deny, though, that you found him to be extremely attractive.Â
You sighed and hesitated to look back at him. Snape will be disappointed in your response.Â
âUnfortunately, noâ you breathed.Â
âPityâ He scoffed, but ended with the faintest smirk. He was hard on you the same as he was when he was your professor, but he made some fun of it every now and then.
âSorry, Professor Snape. I just donât think these ingredients will workâÂ
âItâs experimental, Y/N, we wonât know until it is doneâ He shrugged.Â
You were working on a high-intensity calming draught. A harmless potion that many wizards and witches could find great use in, especially during high-stress situations. The ingredients were simple, but they just didnât make sense to you.Â
Lavender, crocodile heart, rose petals, and peppermint.Â
You read the list back to yourself several times. You werenât getting the reaction youâd hoped for inside the simmering pot, and the ingredients werenât behaving as youâd expected as you followed the procedure you were familiar with.
âSometimes the best way to test potions is to try them yourselfâ Snape spoke with a condescending tone as he noticed your hesitation.Â
âAre you suggesting I just drink this myself and see if it works?â You reiterated and trailed with a light chuckle.
âIf you wonât, I willâ He shrugged and smirked back at you from across the room. Professor Snape was professional, of course, but he was right. Sometimes trial and error is the quickest way to test potions. The ingredients were simple, so the chance of them causing any harm wasâŠpotentially slim.Â
The day was long and you had grown tired of staring into the stirring liquid.
Fine, you thought, what is the worst that could happen?
You poured the purple-hued brew into the glass in front of you. Without thinking too much more about it, you threw back the potion, letting it trickle down your throat. It was potent, minty, and slightly earthy. Not the worst potion youâd tastedâŠbut not the best either.
Your face twisted in uncertainty for the flavor.
Snape held his eyes to the book in front of him as he sat at his desk across the room. He was wildly uninterested in the reaction or the success of the potion youâd brewed. He had more important things to handle, and an experimental calming draught for a future lesson plan was low on his priority list, so of course, that means you were the one to take on the task.
You waited for a reaction.
And waited.
Nothing. You felt nothing.Â
Just before you were going to give up and accept the defeat, you actually began to feel something. It was warm and fuzzy, laced in your veins and flowed slowly up your arms.Â
Perhaps this is the beginning of the calming effects, you thought.Â
The warmth felt funny as it seeped deeper into your bloodstream. Before you knew it, each of your extremities flowed hot with its calming effects. But there was something else. Something youâd never felt from a potion before. A tingling and most desperate sensation found its way between your legs.Â
âP-Professor?â You struggled to call out to him, suddenly weary of how you were beginning to feel. You swallowed hard.Â
âYes, Y/N?â He called back, his eyes still glued to the book.
âAre there anyâŠsimilar potions that I could have accidentally created instead of the calming draught?â
He looked up suddenly.Â
âNo, there is-....â Snape stopped mid-sentence, setting the book down gently, âWell perhaps, but you would know the difference between peppermint and spearmintâ
You looked down at the extra green leaves that remained unused near the pot. You had collected this from a different area of the field than normal, but it smelled and looked like peppermint, so you did not think twice about it. However, now that he questions it, you worry it was, indeed, something else.Â
âLet's just say maybe I didnât, though. If I accidentally used spearmint, what would that mean?â You countered nervously.
His eyes grew wide for a moment.Â
âShow me the plantâ He insisted. Snape quickly rose from his seat and walked over to your desk.Â
You showed him the green leaves you believed to be peppermint. He towered over you.
âIt's peppermint, right?â You asked wearily, looking up to him. His furrowed brows revealed his concern.
âNo. This is certainly spearmintâ He pressed his lips tightly together and twisted the stem between his fingers.Â
Your heart sank. What had you done?
âWhat⊠what did I brew, then?â You asked cautiously.Â
Snape appeared more worrisome and now even a bit uncomfortable.Â
âWhat do you feel?â He asked slowly and cautiously rather than answering your question.
You were hesitant to tell the truth and he could sense it.Â
âI feel very warm⊠and quiteâŠumâ You trailed off as you felt your heart beating a hundred miles an hour. Suddenly you felt a raging sense of attraction to his natural musk and cologne. God, was he always so breathtaking?
âAroused?â He questioned.Â
âYesâ. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your cheeks rushed with blood as your response was trailed by a muffled moan. You were embarrassed to admit feeling this way in front of Professor Snape, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. And to hear your professor of many years, and now your colleague, ask you if you felt any sense of sexual arousal made you excited, too.Â
âI feared as muchâ He turned away slowly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth.Â
âProfessor wha-â
âQuiet. Give me a moment to thinkâ Snape demanded. He paced the room slowly.Â
It grew more intense with each passing second. The tingling created a sensitivity upon the surface of your skin. You grazed your arm with your fingertips and chills shot down your spine.Â
You clenched your thighs together as your arousal intensified. The professor turned around at this same moment, and let his eyes catch sight of your discomfort.Â
He looks good today, you thought to yourself. His jet-black hair fell so beautifully atop his shoulders, and his dark attire somehow never looked better than it did right now with the way it draped down the length of his body.Â
âYouâve created something that many have experimented with in the past, but⊠it's not well documented. Itâs dangerous. Think similar to a love potion, howeverâŠmuch more potentâ Snape explained, ending his pacing right at your desk once again. His emphasis toward the end was all you needed to hear. You could tell he was attempting to maintain his composure but you could also sense he was on edge.
âOh, Godâ You cried, lowering your head to look down at your feet, âWhat do I do, Professor?â You begged. Your fists clenched the edges of the table. You needed a release. Or an antidote. âWhat is the recipe for the antidote?âÂ
Truly, you wanted the release. Your staff dormitory was nearby, just right down the hall, you could take care of this quickly. Snape looked around, ensuring you were both alone, then used a quick flick of his wand to close the shutters on the windows. It was dimly lit in the classroom now with only the light of many candles illuminating each corner of the room. It wasâŠromantic. Most everyone in the castle was gone. Any remaining professors were locked away in their offices, and the students were well on their way home by now.Â
âThere isnât oneâ He stated firmly. The warm amber luminescence glowed so beautifully upon his skin.Â
The effects of the accidental potion were nearing unbearable, now. Every fiber of your being ached so desperately to be touched.Â
âFuckâŠIâŠI needâ You breathed heavily, clenching your lower belly as your arousal pooled itself between your legs. Your cunt begged you for somethingâŠanything. Youâd never cussed in front of Professor Snape before, but he could feel the urgency in your voice.
âYou must relieve itâ He snapped. Frustrated with the decision he knew was about to have to make.
âSeverusâŠâ You begged desperately, using his first name for the first time ever. You werenât even sure what you were begging him for.Â
âI must speak bluntly, Ms. Y/L/N, so listen carefully. You are no longer my student. I am not your professor. But this must happen in order to save you.â He began frantically, checking again to make sure the doors were locked. His clarification of your relationship with one another seemed to be more of a reminder for himself than for you.Â
âSave me? Christ, will this kill me?â You cried out.
âYes. If your body is not brought to orgasm several times, it will begin to affect the very core of your nervous system. There is no other way to stop it.â He explained. Hearing him talk about orgasms was unexpected but it aroused you.
Dammit, you thought, canât he just fuck me?Â
No. No matter how much you wanted him right now, you did not want to put him in that position.Â
âOkay, I willâŠI will go back to my room nowâ You managed to say. He sighed in anticipation of what he would say next.Â
âYou canât do it yourselfâ He began, his voice faltering as he failed to make eye contact with you, âIt has to be another personâ.
Snape knew exactly what had to be done. The moment he saw the spearmint you placed in his hand, he knew.Â
Suddenly, your legs trembled beneath you and your knees buckled. As you felt yourself fall, Professor Snape quickly caught you. His arms wrapped beneath your arms and he lifted you up onto the desk. You whimpered in reaction to this contact against your skin. It wasâŠelectrifying, but you were running out of time. Your body was running hotter by the second. In a feeble attempt to cool yourself, you peeled the robe from your shoulder.Â
âPleaseâ You begged, gesturing to the fabric that held you hostage in your misery.Â
âI-â Snape began, reaching to grab your robe. His eyes searched yours for uncertainty but found none. The expression he held revealed what he couldnât say. He wanted you. He wanted to help in more ways than one. But no matter what he told himself, he couldnât help but feel that it was wrong.Â
While you squirmed on the table, you watched as Professor Snape eyed the remaining liquid in the cauldron. It was only a few drops, but it was enough to at least bring a man to his knees for a woman begging him to fuck her. But he didnât need it in order to want you. Snape needed it to convince himself it wasnât wrong.Â
He breathed out heavily before pouring the few drops into the glass and throwing it back, getting as much as he possibly could. Snape winced at the flavor.Â
âProfessorâŠw-what are you doing?â You whimpered through your words.Â
âWe both took the potion. We thought it was a calming draught, and it wasnât. And we did what we had to do to treat the effectsâ He responded quickly as if it was rehearsed. You knew what he was insinuating. If anyone found out, if anyone asked, thatâs what happened. If Snape was under the effects of this potion too, he would need his release, same as you. With only a few drops, It would be less intense for him, so he could better handle himself.Â
âIf youâll allow me, I will help you, my dearâ He whispered as he came closer to you propped on the table, holding his face close to yours, speaking sensually against your lips. In one swift motion, he pulled the black robe off your shoulders, letting it rest on the table, leaving you in your sweater and mini skirt.Â
Before you could even finish your nod of approval, the hem of your skirt was being pulled up frantically, followed by his wandering fingers that stopped just at the hem of your panties. You were practically dripping and he could feel it.Â
âOh darlingâ He groaned, standing between your open legs and pressing his lips against your ear. Every hair on your body stood up when he finally got this close to you, âYou are so wet for meâÂ
You rolled your hips against his hovering fingertips. As you looked down, you faintly noticed the bulge that grew in his pants. You werenât sure if it was the microdose of the potion, or how arousing it was to be in this situation with you, but it was a most intoxicating sight. You could feel the heat radiating from him and knew that he was fully under the effects of the potion. Not nearly as badly as you, but he was about to lose control.
âProfessor Snape, I canât take it anymore, pleaseâ You begged him. You needed something inside of you, now.
âVery wellâ He smirked subtly as he pulled the soaked fabric to the side and pressed his fingers flush against your clit before rubbing rhythmic circles.Â
âFuck!â You cried out and threw your head back, which was quickly caught by Snapeâs hand. He held your head up to meet his gaze. The aching and burning persisted but were soothed slightly once his skin was upon yours. It was a surprise to be so reactive to the faintest of touch, but the angry fever burning your skin was electrified, enhancing every single one of your senses.Â
âLook at me, Y/N. Oh, you sound so lovelyâ His voice was like honey as he talked you through your pleasure, admiring the sounds that flew from your lips. Â
You locked your gaze with his and stared deep into him.Â
It was overwhelming. All of it. The state of your writhing body. The way he looked towering over you. The feeling of his fingers on your delicate bud. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state, something youâd never thought youâd see in a million years. It was all so incredible and absolutely riveting. You thought you might be dreaming.
Snapeâs thumb remained working at your clit while two fingers were suddenly pushed inside your cunt. Your walls clenched around his digits as he began pumping them in and out, curling them with every stroke.Â
âYou need to come. Come for meâ He insisted, knowing that the first orgasm would help begin to subside your symptoms. You couldâve reached your high just from the sound of his voice alone, so you knew you were close already.Â
Your mouth fell open as the tightest coil of nerves bundled at your core. Suddenly, without hardly any warning from your own body, your orgasm burst open, radiating and flowing through every fiber of your being. Stars danced in your eyes as the euphoria washed over you. Moaning and profanities filled the air, breathless and aggressive as it took you over.Â
âThatâs it, my love, just like thatâ He encouraged you through it, keeping his pace while he fucked you with his fingers. You curled your hips, riding his hand instinctively. You came down so slowly, feeling delirious but still hungry for more. More of him.
His cock was stiffened and strained in his trousers, begging to be released, but not until he ensured you were okay after your first high. You reached for the hem of his pants in desperation.Â
âI need itâ You struggled to form your words.Â
âYou need my cock? Is that what you need?â He whispered to you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers curled harder with each thrust.Â
âPlease, Professorâ You begged. There was something so hot about calling him that in this setting. He could never admit it, but he loved it, too.Â
âAs you wishâ
He pulled his fingers from your pussy, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined at the loss.
He watched you struggle to remove your sweater and glided his hands up the side of your body to help pull it over your head, which revealed you wore no bra underneath. Snape growled lowly in approval of the sight. Your bare breasts glistened with sweat under the candlelight. He delicately trailed his fingers down the front of your body, circling your stiffened nipples along the way.
For the first time, he kissed you. His supple lips pressed firmly into yours, adding another layer of intimacy you were not expecting. You moaned into him, feeling his hands cup your burning cheeks as he pulled you into him. As you sat at the edge of the table with Snape positioned between your legs, you felt him shuffle with the clasp of his pants.Â
Excitedly, you pulled away from the kiss to see his impressive length released from its restraints. Your thighs clenched together at the sight, which caused you to moan. You could see it on his face, he was burning with the same passion, but he was nervous. Maybe with less of the potency of your accidental creation, you would have had the luxury of anxiety, but not in this state.Â
âAre you doing alright?â He asked you, one hand on the back of your neck, forcing your gaze onto him, and the other grasping the base of his cock, ready to give you exactly what you needed. What he needed.Â
âMore than alrightâ You breathed.Â
âGoodâ He smiled back at you. You realized in this moment that heâd never fully smiled at you before, and it warmed your heart.Â
Hurriedly, he yanked your panties off your body, throwing them to the ground. He pushed up your skirt, making sure it was out of the way. Ever-so-conveniently, the table was at his hipsâ level, putting his cock at the perfect height.
He plunged into you, hard. A strangled, choked whimper caught in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with the fullness. Professor Snape sucked in a sharp breath, pleased with how you wrapped around his cock so perfectly.Â
âOh my Godâ You cried out as he began thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust to him. It could not last long though, because Snape could feel the animalistic urges overcoming him.Â
âOh, fuckâ He groaned deeply, staring down to where his cock disappeared inside of you.Â
Something unraveled within Snape. His cautious demeanor was long gone. His brows furrowed into almost an angry expression as he snapped his hips passionately, fucking you hard and ruthlessly now. Your whole body tingled and spasmed in reaction to each thrust. His cock stretched you so wonderfully, and he was intoxicated by the way you took him. Like you were made for him. His hands gripped both sides of your waist, using your curves as leverage to go deeper.Â
âYou take my cock so well, darlingâ He praised, increasing his pace.
âIt feels s-so fucking good, Professor. Iâm going to come again, pleaseâŠdonât s-s-stopâ You stuttered, tripping over your own words as you felt drunk off the pleasure. With the rise of your next orgasm came the subsiding of the heat that coursed through your veins.Â
âMy pretty little whore, come on my cockâ He growled, angling his hips at a deeper angle so that his cock brushed your most sensitive area with each thrust.Â
It came over you again so suddenly, sending your body into a pleasurable convulsion. Snape pushed you backward, laying you flat on your back atop the table, and wrapped his fist around your throat. The pressure against your neck made your mind go fuzzy as you rode the high of your second orgasm.Â
It feltâŠotherworldly. Like nothing you couldâve ever imagined. He faltered none in his thrusts as you floated through such indescribable euphoria. As you came back to what felt like reality, you opened your eyes to see Snape admiring you in your most vulnerable state, continuously taking his cock like you were made for it.Â
Just one more. You only needed one more. You could feel it. One more orgasm would treat these effects. The only problem was, your body was weakening, and you werenât sure if you could take it.
âOne more, darling. Just one moreâ He breathed through his moans.
âI-I canâtâ You cried.Â
âYou can. You must, Y/N.â He reminded you with encouragement, âBe a good girl and give me one moreâ
You nodded weakly. While he fucked you hard, he brought his fingers up to your swollen clit to bring you to your third release. You spasmed beneath his touch. It felt so good. Too good. You squirmed involuntarily, but Snape was not having it. He pulled his length out of you and quickly turned you around, bending you forward to press your face into the table.Â
Before you could even process what was happening, he sunk himself back into you from behind and resumed his relentless thrusts. He could hold you down better in this position. He was more in control.Â
Even quicker than the first two, your third orgasm unleashed itself upon your body. You writhed and cried out his name, mixed with other profanities as it washed over you. You had an unfamiliar feeling coiling in your lower belly. Before you knew it was even happening, you were squirting through your orgasm, something that had never happened before. Snape groaned lowly in approval.Â
This orgasm was followed by an icy flush that mixed with your blood, taking the burning sensation away completely. It was an ultimate feeling of relief. The pleasure was so intense, a stray tear trickled down your cheek.
âI am closeâ Professor Snape muttered.
âCome inside me, professorâ You whimpered, sending him over the edge instantly.
His thrusts faltered and slowed as a warmth spilled deep inside your walls, coating your cunt completely. Snape bent over to press his chest into your back as he caught his breath. You both were slowly coming down from not only your release, but from the effects of the potion. You expected to feel shame or embarrassment, but neither occurred.Â
He was careful pulling out of you, knowing how weak your legs probably were. You tried to catch your breath as he offered his hand, helping you to your seat near the table.Â
Without another word, he helped you back into your sweater to allow you to regain your decency as soon as you could. It was hard to process what had just happened, but you truly did not regret even a single second of it.Â
âI am sorry for what had to happen, Ms. Y/L/Nâ Professor Snape said as he kneeled down to look at you. His eyes looked sorrowful and full of guilt, like he blamed himself for what happened. It broke your heart to think he felt this way. You enjoyed this and you know he did too.Â
You smiled and held a sleepy expression as you giggled and shook your head.Â
âIâm notâ You confidently responded.
The same smile you saw for the first time earlier returned to his lips.
âGoodâ He muttered.Â
ââ-
Please forgive any canon inconsistencies. This was entirely self-indulgent lmaooo. Obviously this potion does not exist and I made it up based on actual calming draught ingredients!
#severus snape#professor snape#snape x reader#severus snape x reader#severus snape x you#harry potter#harry potter fandom#smut#fluff#pollen#sex pollen#dub con#snape headcanons#snape smut#snape x fem!reader#female reader
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Seems like this ghoul is hungry for human flesh.. but in an unusual way đ€š
Full pic is here! đ
#terato#dnd art#nsft#monsterfucker#monster fucker#ghoul#don't worry it isn't her blood she's alright#making sure it's all good#dub con#don't mind shadows it's 2am and my brain is boiled i can't do them#cheesy art#Valeska
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stepbro!könig and stepbro!krueger thots ... ââ§âË.
tw: stepcest, non-con/dub-con (peer pressure, blackmail), degrading.
â stepbrother!könig is teasing and degrading. he loves to make you feel like you're worth nothing, especially if it's because you haven't pleased him with a nice, sloppy, and sticky blowjob. :3
stepbrother!krueger on the other hand, is addicted to seeing you cry. he's so mean, brutal with his pace when he demands you to bend over and present that pretty, and tight cunt to him! both him and könig love to gang up against you, so they can blackmail you with skimpy, scandalous photos of you -- threatening to leak it if you didn't please them like they asked.
instead of arguing or retorting back at them, you meekly turned around, getting smacked in the rear causing you to jolt and squeak, listening to the sounds of könig tutting with impatience clear in his voice.
âhaven't got all day, mĂ€uschen...â you slide your panties off, spitting a fat glob of saliva on your hand and rubbing your clit in circles so you're wet and dripping! sloppy, and sopping wet. just like a good stepsister should be...
ânow be a smart girl and arch that back for us.â
krueger's accent is prominent in the air, pushing up against you, both hands on your hips. he sloppy humps you, wet and sticky, cum sticking to your thighs and covering your folds. he's only inside for a few minutes before he's cumming all over your slit, coating you in thick strings of cum.
they both take turns of you. könig's hard dick easing into your asshole without preparation, causing you to grip anything around you tightly, panting and whimpering through the ache. his thrusts are harsh and rough, making sure to fuck some sense into his dumb stepsister who always falls for their threats...
â at dinner, they're both pieces of shit. not only to eachother, but you especially. you're just a little ragdoll to take their anger out on. whether that's by eating you out underneath the table while you speak to your mother and stepfather, holding back moans and gasps when krueger drags his tongue over your sensitive clit. just like the cheeky bastard he is...
stepbrother!könig is always riled up. even when you're a few metres away from your mother who was preparing dinner in the kitchen, he'll hide behind a wall close to the kitchen, pinning you against the same wall, rutting into you while covering your mouth with a large, calloused hand. your muffled whines and mewls fall onto death's ears as he fits himself whole inside you, his balls smacking against your ass repetitively.
and your mother always asks why you both stink of sweat, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders shyly.
könig won't hesitate to grab your hand, bring it over to his lap and take out his cock, having you jerk him off underneath the blanket while you're all watching a movie. all it does is leave krueger pissed off, jealous, and horny... you owe him a handjob too, now. :3
translation: mÀuschen - little mouse
banner credit: saradika
#orla speaks#tw stepcest#stepcest cw#tw: stepcest#stepcest#dub con#tw: dubcon#tw: non con#tw noncon#non con#tw: noncon#könig#könig call of duty#könig x reader#könig mw2#sebastian krueger#krueger x reader#cod krueger#krueger#sebastian krueger x reader#krueger cod#konig x reader smut#konig x reader#konig call of duty#konig mw2#cod mw2
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Happiness is a Butterfly
It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.
This is what I vanished to work on lol
Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao
The words choke in her throat like they donât want to leave.Â
Maybe thatâs a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.
She can barely bring herself to look at him.Â
In the decade theyâve been married his temper has never been something sheâs been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline sheâs ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.Â
Sheâs never feared his temper but sheâs also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.Â
Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.
He doesnât answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.
She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesnât think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. Heâs sitting- still imposing as ever even if heâs always been magnanimous around the house- and sheâs on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.
He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.
As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes Johnâs notice. âDonât,â he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, âDonât do that. You know me better than that.â
This time she doesnât move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. âLook me in the eye and say it again.â
It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. Sheâs not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed thereâd be more of a reaction. Heâs watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.
Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out âI want a divorce.â
âIs there someone else?â he asks evenly.
âNo! John Iâd never-â Itâs true; ever since heâd turned her head all those years ago sheâs been blind where other men are concerned.
âOkay,â he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and sheâs suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. âI believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?â
Sheâs been agonizing over this for months. Sheâs not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.
Maybe thatâs reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isnât reciprocated at home. Even when heâs physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.
Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.
Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.
âYes.â No. âIâm so tired of being alone,â she confesses. âIâm tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when youâre home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.â
He doesnât seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because theyâve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time sheâs been frustrated with his job.
âOkay,â she canât believe her ears with his easy acceptance. âIf this is what you want, then okay.â
She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isnât her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. Johnâs gone.
Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesnât fight her on anything. With his schedule thereâs no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a momentâs notice.
Theyâre adults. They can handle this.
Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and sheâs had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides sheâs pissed.
The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she canât put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didnât even try to fight for her.
If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.
Perhaps sheâs projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.
She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.
Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that sheâs now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isnât that the focus of her argument? That itâs too difficult for the boys?
Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and theyâre not wrong.
Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as heâs returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she canât say it stops all together she can say thereâs a marked improvement when they come back.Â
What did he tell them?
Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.
She doesnât even need to look at the notification.Â
John isnât missing a beat this entire time and heâs driving her crazy.Â
The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. Johnâs name is not on it and he canât touch anything in it.Â
He can however put money in it.
He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.
She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her âif I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myselfâ back in her face.Â
Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didnât need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.Â
It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.Â
Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he canât access.Â
Sheâs not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. Theyâve never actually spoken about his little transactions.
âYou alright, then, love?â She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that sheâs not his love anymore.Â
âWhat are you doing?â
Thereâs a brief pause.
ââŠIâm on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -â she cuts him off before he can get any further.Â
âIâm not calling to ask about your day and you know it,â she snaps irritably. âIâm asking about the deposit. What are you doing?â
John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesnât trust it.Â
âI have no idea what you mean, love.â He assures her good naturedly.Â
âYou have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?â
She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.Â
âI know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I donât know why youâre questioning my motives. We both know you havenât worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.â
âJohn, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!â
He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
âI donât want you making decisions out of desperation.â He responds evenly. âThe plan wasnât for you to go to work until the youngest oneâs in school next year. Youâve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.â
He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.
Johnâs always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.Â
âI donât want you making decisions out of desperation,â he repeats. âI just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.â
The something coils tighter in her gut.Â
âIâm sorry,â she apologizes.
âYouâre alright, sweetheart,â he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.Â
âNow,â thereâs the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her masterâs command. âWhat I was going to say earlier- Iâm about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. Iâd like to see them today.â
She canât very well tell him no now can she?
The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.Â
Until theyâre on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.Â
She canât truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasnât changed her name and isnât sure if sheâs going to.Â
Itâs not hers anymore, but itâs still her boysâ name and things are easier. Sheâd likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.Â
The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of âDaddy!!â fill the air.Â
âYou can just call me after youâve finished lunch and I can come get them,â she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off sheâll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).
Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.
âMummy, no!â âMum!â âBut itâll be fun!â the trio state their cases to varying degrees.
John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. âCome on now, sweetheart, for old timeâs sake, hm?â
Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of âYeah!â
Ultimately itâs the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesnât want a scene.
Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.
She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesnât mean anything by it while theyâre waiting for their food and asks âSo what time are we going to nanaâs later?â
Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as Johnâs snaps to her, and sheâs deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.
Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?
âWeâll probably get ready after we go back home.â sheâs careful to keep her tone neutral.
âHow fun,â Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in Johnâs voice. âAny reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?â
âJust for the night. Mumâs picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?â
The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck sheâs gonna weasle out of this conversation.
âYes, Iâll come get you after breakfast.â
âCould have called me.â
âThat didnât seem appropriate. Theyâll be fine with my mum.â Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.
âDonât see whatâs inappropriate about me watching my own kids.â
Itâs not that sheâs happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like sheâs dealing with another human being, because she knows sheâs got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and itâs beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.
âItâs not-â Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? âI have plans tonight.â
John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes sheâs not planning a girlâs night out for herself.
That she hadnât thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.
âIâm watching them,â he asserts before returning to his plate.Â
âJohn-â
âI said Iâm watching them,â his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.
Thereâs nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesnât dismiss her stories, doesnât shirk back at the mention of her three children, isnât rude to the server and isnât texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.Â
There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and heâll be there for the boys various sports and activities.Â
And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where theyâd have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.Â
Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.Â
(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)
There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.
She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him Iâm sorry, I thought I was ready but I donât think I am.
Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.Â
Itâs not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.
âWell that didnât last long.â The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.
âI,â she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?
Yes heâs the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.Â
âI donât think Iâll be seeing him again,â she finishes lamely.Â
âI would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, werenât we sweetheart?â
She canât quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is⊠odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.Â
John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. Heâs her ex husband for Godâs sake.Â
âWe were,â she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of Johnâs car like horny teenagers or-
One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next sheâs aware that heâs closed the distance between them while sheâs distracted.
âMakes me wonder if that was your plan all along,â he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.
âWas it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?â His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.Â
Johnâs hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesnât quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasnât been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and thereâs only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.
She canât mimic the weight of a manâs body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.
She doesnât want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. Itâs John.Â
He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that heâs feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.Â
âWhatâs this?â He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.Â
Itâs a new one. While she hadnât been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.Â
Thereâs a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, heâs likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.Â
âWere you planning on showing this to him?â Johnâs enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasnât ever all that interested in just to bait her.
âNo, I-,â she hadnât really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.Â
Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.
âI just want you,â the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.Â
John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.
âBed,â she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, heâs clearly on board with this plan.Â
Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.Â
Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as theyâre shucked to the floor.
âThis one looks lovely on you,â John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.Â
God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.
Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.
âHas anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?â He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.Â
âNo! There hasnât been- John, I swear I havenât-â she protests.
âI believe you,â he assures her.Â
She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But sheâs already made a slew of questionable decisions that havenât gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesnât want an answer to.
Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.
âJohn,â somehow she canât quite wrap her mind around the fact that heâs got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.Â
He pulls away just long enough to speak, âI missed you so much,â before going back to eating her out.
John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.
âWh-why?â She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.
Heâs so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.
âWhereâs your ring, sweetheart?â his question is a non sequitur if sheâs ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure sheâd been drowning in just a moment ago.
âMy ring?â She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.
âYes, sweetheart, your ring.â He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.
Thereâs no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadnât been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when itâs never a question of if sheâs making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.
So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.
She never thought for a second that âlaterâ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her âGo get it and bring it here.â
Itâs a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.
Gonna be an officerâs wife, sweetheart heâd told her after sheâd accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.
Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?
She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as sheâs told- John didnât tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.
In an alternate dimension, where sheâd gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he canât quite believe his luck and heâs not entirely sure sheâs real.
Tonight is no exception. As soon as sheâs in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.
âWeâre going to lay some ground rules, and then Iâm going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?â Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.
âThis,â John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,â stays where it belongs. Right here.â
He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. âThereâs no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.â
Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.
He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so sheâs sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. âNow is not the time to play with me,â he warns.
She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.
His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesnât even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.
âIâm not mad,â he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. âYou tried and tried to tell me, and I didnât take you seriously, did I?â
She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that thereâs no way he can expect an answer out of her considering sheâs gagging on his fingers.
âAs soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasnât listening. I donât blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So Iâm not mad,â he reiterates.
âBut youâve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.âÂ
She twists as much as sheâs able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.
âWe,â he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, âare going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.â
It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when Johnâs mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-Â and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.
Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. âThereâs my good girl,â his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.
She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.
âJohn,â his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.
âSo impatient,â he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.
Warmed by their body heat, his ring isnât cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.
It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. Sheâd run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.
But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like sheâs on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.
Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.
As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.
Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.
âOh my God,â she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. âNot too loud,â he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.
Heâs got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that heâs going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.
Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because Johnâs hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.
âNeed to shove your face in a pillow,â he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.
He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before heâs tapping at her side and prompting her up. âGet on the bed and lay on your back.â
She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.
John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. Thereâs more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.
She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.Â
âPlease, John, I canât wait anymore,â she begs, feeling like sheâs about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering Johnâs rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, sheâs gagging for him and running out of patience.
âYou are a spoiled thing,â he admonishes good naturedly like he hasnât made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.
âWe might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?â John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If sheâs being truthful, thatâs partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.
His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and itâs usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.
Itâs like they havenât missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on Johnâs body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.
âThis pretty cuntâs got me like a vice, sweetheart,â he praises, leaning down to kiss her.
âI missed you so much,â she whines into the kiss. âIt feels so good.â
âIâm not gonna last,â he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. âYou divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, donât you?â
An entire relationshipâs worth of orgasms makes it so she doesnât begrudge him that heâs going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, itâs fuck her within an inch of her life. Heâs proven that time and time again.
If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if heâs already this close to finishing.
âLook at me,â he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. âTell me you love me.â
Her answer is immediate. âI do! John, I love you. I love you so much!â
His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. âMy perfect girl,â he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.
Sheâs so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. âShit! Pull out!â she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.
âWhat?â In all their years, âpull outâ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.
âI havenât been keeping up with my birth control!â Despite Johnâs easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.
Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. âBit late for that, innit? Youâve already had 3 of mine, whatâs one more at this point?â
âOne more at this point is exactly the point!â she tries to reason.
âWe did say a girl would be nice,â he reminds her.
âThat was before we got a divorce!â she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.
âThatâs nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time youâre due.â John can tell heâs truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.Â
âOkay, too much. Iâm sorry. Come here,â he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.Â
John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, sheâs not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).
Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.
For a long moment itâs quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.
It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment sheâs happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husbandâs arms, and the next sheâs sobbing uncontrollably.
Theyâve been through enough that it shouldnât embarrass her. For fuckâs sake, sheâd vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.
âWhatâs wrong?â John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.
âI mucked everything up,â she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. âI didnât even want this, I just didnât know what else to do!â
He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. âI meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day itâs just papers. Weâll get everything fixed back in its proper place.â
She doesnât remove herself from the spot on his neck sheâs nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.
When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. Itâs like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months theyâve been apart.
She canât help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.Â
It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.
The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if sheâs feeling affectionate this morning, that sheâs going to have to figure something out for her birth control.Â
For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.
The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.
âWell good morning, gorgeous,â he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.
Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.
âBad girl,â he admonishes with no true venom in his voice âKeep those teeth to yourself, hm?â he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.
Rather than crawling down him, sheâs got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.
The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesnât go unnoticed by John.
âThat pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesnât it sweetheart?â he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.
She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but theyâre also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.
âFuck,â he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. Thatâs all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together sheâd never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.
âLook at me,â and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. âGonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, thatâs my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,â he grunts, his climax hitting.
Sheâs well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.
âSit on my face. And donât even think about fucking hovering,â John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while sheâd blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.
He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isnât going to change her mind and start teasing him back.
And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in Johnâs hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.
âPlease, please, please,â she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.
Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until sheâs breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.
Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.
Itâs only after theyâve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.
âI want this to work, John.â She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.
âI do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.â A sigh escapes her, already fearing that theyâre back on their loop thatâs been the routine for the past decade. âWhatâs that for, hm?â he inquires.
âI want this to work, John,â she repeats âbut things have to change. I mean it.â
â I know you do,â he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. âI believe you.â
Sheâs uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because sheâs justified in the knowledge that this isnât the first time theyâve had this conversation.
Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.
âYou canât try to get me pregnant if youâre not retiring from the field, John,â she asserts. âI can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.â
And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.
Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However sheâll happily settle for him promoting high enough that heâs not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. Sheâs paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. Heâs beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and itâs absolutely infuriating that he hasnât.
(She knows itâs not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where heâll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesnât want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise sheâll melt down like chernobyl.)
The hot water runs out before Johnâs refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because sheâs a scatter brained mess right now. The manâs not 20 and she doesnât begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but sheâs swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.
By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.
John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.Â
Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.Â
Now John hovers. Like heâs not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but itâs like one eye is kept trained on her.Â
Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.Â
Now, while sheâs distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize theyâre caught.
âJohn,â she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. âWe really need to talk about this. Actually talk.â Not just fuck each other silly - she knows theyâll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.Â
She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. Johnâs got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that sheâs learned over the years. He wonât outright lie to her, he wonât go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-
Anyway.)
âWe will, sweetheart. Letâs just get through breakfast, hm?â
It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).
Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.Â
The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.
She canât help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him âYour mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?â only for the oldest to salute him with a âYes, sir!â that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.
The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.
âI know I pushed too far,â John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. âYou kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I canât say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasnât listening. I meant what I said last night. Iâm not mad.â
ItâŠ. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually sheâll give up. But itâs a dull pain, considering itâs something sheâs lived with for years. Sheâs well familiar with it.Â
âSo why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know itâs selfish to ask you to give that up, but weâve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They donât grasp the situation. They just know that their dadâs gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you donât come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?â
Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But itâs the same story heâs been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.
Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. Heâs well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.Â
At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet henâs.
âI didnât think youâd leave.â Itâs the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. âI knew you werenât happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasnât cheating on you. Iâm not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but Iâm not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.â He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.Â
âI didnât know what else to do,â she reiterates, and sheâs not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when heâs been honest about his work from the start.
Thereâs no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and sheâs begun to realize- far too late- that itâs so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- sheâs great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).
Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine thatâs interlocking and needing to unravel. Thereâs no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesnât really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.
âSo now what do we do?â she asks.
John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. âI want to come home, sweetheart.â
âItâs not that easy.â
She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and sheâs not sure if sheâs got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe thereâs a chance.
Theyâve made it this far. But she is so tired. She canât go back but sheâs got no idea whatâs ahead or how long it will take to get there.
âI know. All Iâm asking for is a chance.â
âIt is your last one John, I swea-â Sheâs always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.
After last night, one would think theyâd gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.
Mother fucker heâs doing it again. He doesnât fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.
âI mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.â
âAnything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, Iâm listening this time. Iâll figure it out.â
The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. âYou remember our little conversation from last night?âÂ
He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.
Sheâs taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. âI know youâre not going to sign the papers overnight, and Iâm fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?â
The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesnât need to tell her twice.
âI promise,â she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as heâs mollified by her words. âI know I donât have a right to ask, but did you- was there-â the words choke as she stumbles over them. She canât be mad. Sheâs got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another womanâs body makes her want to claw someoneâs eyes out.
And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.
Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.
âNo, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.â
The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. âI love you, John. Iâm sorry it came to this.â
âWeâll fix it, sweetheart.â
For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.
Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.
The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his âgameâ of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.
âDo you have to leave?â The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.
âNot today,â John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.
Itâs a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John canât prove that heâs controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesnât want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.
Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.
Only to find out at her appointment that they canât give it to her because sheâs pregnant.
Mother fucker. Damn that âone shot, one killâ motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?
John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.
The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she canât quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes itâs a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, itâs just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.
No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents arenât staying separated. In their simplistic view, thatâs as good as ink drying on paper that theyâre staying together.
At her scan when itâs revealed sheâs carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.
The youngest daughter that heâs got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.
A girl would have been nice, but sheâs well experienced with wrangling John Priceâs sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.
Johnâs got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.
When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), heâs an active and involved father whoâs besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.
She doesnât sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While heâll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.
They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with Johnâs parents to have a weekend for themselves.
There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.
Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting âMaybe this one will be a girlâ, showing his hand that he hasnât quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.
She doesnât want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.
When Lt. Simon âGhostâ Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.
Sheâs still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.
The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officerâs wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.
âCookinâ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?â Soap asks good naturedly while theyâre waiting.
âNot quite sure,â she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure theyâre settling in and behaving. âJohnâs been itching for a girl since before this one came,â she gestures to their youngest in her arms.
âWell, hopefully itâa girl then for yer sake- manâs gonna give ya a football team at this rate!â the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, itâs comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, heâs probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a âfucking really??â look, but canât quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)
âHopefully so,â she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, sheâs already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.
Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.
Age in bio/pinned or I will block you âĄ
#captain john price#John Price x reader#john price x you#captain price smut#dub con#dark!fic#<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise#my writing
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Our Gentle Sins Masterlist
Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader
Summary: Told in a combination between present day and flashbacks, you and Logan are friends with a budding forbidden romance at the School for Extraordinary Youngsters. You are the only human teacher, and Logan the rambling man who comes and goes as he pleases.
Despite being told to stay away from you by those around him, Logan canât fall for you, canât help but need you, need you, need you⊠until he simply takes it. His violation leaves you pregnant, and you navigate a Logan you donât recognize anymore, flashbacks reveals the past of how we all got here.
Warnings: like ao3âs âwriter chose not to archive warningsâ by clicking read more you are consenting to reading what comes and that you are 18. You have been told this is a dark story involves non con and pregancy, any other triggering topics are liable to be discussed. I wonât be tagging twists bc thatâs stupid and idk how the Pedro fandom actually decided that was a thing people should do??
Immersion: reader is shorter and smaller than Logan.
Undetermined number of chapters right now
Comment to be tagged, follow @romana-updates or join my tumblr community.
Chapter 1: Logan takes you.
Chapter 2: grocery trip
Chapter 3: Opening up
Chapter 4: Trying new things
Chapter 5: Sickness opens you up to Logan
Chapter 6: Scott and Kurt make their appearance
Chapter 7: Nightmares
Chapter 8: Dancing
Chapter 9: itâs complicated
Iâm ass at making headers and shit so if anyone enjoys this and makes a better header Iâll use it and credit you ofc đđđ
#logan howlett/reader#Logan Howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlet smut#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#dark logan howlett#dark!logan#non con#dub con#wolverine x reader#the wolverine#Hugh jackman#Hugh jackman Logan
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Obsessed with the idea of a boy just being so irresistibly pretty it awakens something feral in every man that sees him. They HAVE to claim him, fill his womb with their seed, even if itâs the last time theyâll ever see him
#tw noncon#ftm nsft#mlm nsft#trans nsft#ftm ns/fw#ftm sub#mlm ns/fw#ns/fw blog#breeding k1nk#ftm breeding#cnc k!nk#rough cnc#dub con#something something the story of Ganymede and Zeus??
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A few things to know:
This is my hobby. I donât get paid for this so please cut me some slack if Iâm not as active as other writers. Iâm trying đ
Things I enjoy writing: CNC, smut, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome đ«¶đ» (a personal fave), groveling. He falls first & harder. Enemies to lovers. Friends to lovers. Dark fics. Happily ever afters. Pregnancy tropes. Betrayal. Redemption. A/B/O.
Things I wonât write: major character deaths (MW3 never happened on this blog). Miscarriage. Cheating tropes (from the MMC). Hurt/no comfort. Unhappy endings.
Just because I wonât write certain things doesnât mean I wonât read it. I just prefer not to write it.
I donât do tag lists & please do not ask me when there will be an update.
Here are a list of boundaries I have made for myself and my page. You can do these things, but Iâm not arguing, you will just be blocked.
Master list
Call Of Duty
Marvel
ACOTAR
Fourth Wing
Other Fandoms
Writing Resources
#dark bucky barnes#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#bucky barnes#call of duty#dark fic#dark steve rogers#steve rogers#marvel#acotar#kidnapping#dub con#the cruel prince
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HI HI !!! i just wanted to request a fic of perv! stebrother! konig :D
he basically offers us a massage and us, innocent! reader would agree not knowing the intent behind this âinnocentâ serviceâ itâd turn into SEX,, ( you can figure the details out or just get straight into the scenario of youâd prefer )
that is all, teehee :3
Massage Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, massage, innocent/oblivious!reader, fingering, condescending, coercion, slight misogyny, size kink, tell me if I missed any.
You thought yourself extremely lucky to have an older brother so caring and gentle with you, always offering to pick you up after classes in his old pickup truck, helping you with finding inspiration for projects, acting as your model, soothing your aching muscles and always giving you a hand whenever you needed it. You really loved König despite his awkwardness and aversion to you when you first moved in with him, his avoidance of you when you crossed paths in the hall or his cold, lingering gaze on you, but after a while, he opened up, gracing you with soft affection and and eagerness to be near and help you.
You spent a lot of times together, be it in one of your rooms, in the kitchen, in the living room or in public, always so close to you and holding such an intimacy that some would think that you were a couple. Perhaps itâs this closeness that made you feel so comfortable being naked in front of him, splayed over his bigger bed without anything to cover yourself. His hands pressed down on the knot, feeling the tightness in your muscles and the softness of your skin, without being obstructed by your clothes âor any at all. König had your back oiled, stomach and breasts pressed into the cool sheets of his bed, tensing and groaning when he put pressure on a specific spot.
âYouâre so tense, Spatzi,â he bemoaned, letting his rough fingers trail down your spine, feeling and staring at your arched back, mewling lightly when he ghosted your hips, âItâs good that have good hands, ja?â
You nodded against his bed, letting out a little sigh when he raised your hips with one of his big and silky pillows, hands grazing down your ass to grip your plush thighs. Kneading the sensitive, inner fat of your legs, drifting so closely to your uncovered cunt, teasing you a little flick of his thumb on your swollen clit. Your body reacted to his touch, cunt growing slick from all the stimulation of his calloused pads pressing and kneading your skin, especially when he moved down your ass or crawled up the sides of your tits, leaving fleeting touches on your perked nipples.
âWait, König-â you mewled, squirming lightly beneath him, hips bucking against his palm from light touches, âKönig.â
âI know. I know,â he mumbled out, his tone wearing a slight edge of condescension, âLet me help you, Spatzi.â
You mewled lowly, your body too relaxed into his sheets to do anything against him but mewl out your objections and writhe beneath him, legs numb to the point that all you could do was give him light nudges. Shushing your cries with growling words, his fingers slipped down your slit, thumb nudging at your clit and rolling it before he dipped a thick finger into you. You moaned, gushing around him the moment he pressed his finger knuckle deep, your virginal walls unused to having a thick and rough finger curling inside of you.
Youâve fucked your self with your hand before, unable to stop the brewing flame in your core, but one finger of his equalled to two of yours, it filled you to the near brink, pumping and tapping your g-spot without fail. Your body moved on its own, ass raising lightly to coax König faster and harder, riding his hand for more stimulation than his muscle-deep massage. He nearly sneered at you for being so eager to want to come around his fingers, his sweet and innocent step-sister vulnerable and pliant for him. Giving you a few rough pumps, you gushed, soaking his palm with slick, rutting against his hand and screaming into his sheets, fingers clenching and body tense, thrashing and arching.
Your slick rolled down your thighs, wetting his bed with your salty and musky cum, gifting him with something to relieve himself with for the next days. You were complexly limp, after a massage and a mind-blowing orgasm, you felt boneless and aroused and floating on ecstasy.
âSee?â König growled out, body pressing down on you to reaffirm his previous words, âI know how to help you. I know better, Spatzi.â
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts
#x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#konig x reader#konig mw2#mw2 smut#tw: dark content#dark cod#dark content#tw dubcon#tw: dub con#tw: dubcon#dub con#dubious consent#cw: non con#tw noncon#tw: non con#tw: noncon#non con#tw: stepcest#stepcest#tw stepcest#konig smut#könig x reader#könig mw2#könig smut#Stepbrother!konig#Stepbrother!könig#konig#coercion
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