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mystra-midnight · 1 year ago

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Holy Roar

summary: eddie watched your face—the way your mouth twisted and tears dripped from the corners of your eyes because of the over stimulation. he listened to your wild breaths and felt how your body begged for mercy while your soul screamed for more, more, more.

tags: 18+ only. unprotected sex; p in v. praise kink. pet names; good girl, sweet girl, baby. overstimulation. mentions of squirting if you squint. teeth-rotting fluff. eddie being a simp for his girl. soft!eddie but also hints of mean/dom!eddie.

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: eddie might not be religious but he's pretty sure heaven is between your thighs. requested by anon, thank you so much. <3 i needed a reason to be sappy and sweet today after all the drama going on. also, for the record. this was meant to be a drabble but evidently i have no self control.

Eddie Munson wasn't religious, but he did believe in heaven.

He'd swear up and down that he'd seen heaven, and no one had been able to convince him otherwise. The truth was, when he was buried in the tight warmth of your pussy with your arms wrapped around him, he could hear the sound of angels singing. It was a beautiful melody, a crescendo that rang in his ears and brought him to tears.

When he was with you, wrapped in the velvet embrace of your walls, his face hidden against the slope of your neck, the world would melt away. Nothing else mattered in those moments. He wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t a freak; he was just Eddie, and you were just you, and when he moved in you, the holy dark moved too.

And when you came, trembling and twitching beneath him, with pretty moans and whimpers pouring from your kiss-bitten lips, it was like he was born again. When he watched your features twist with rapture, he saw the world through brand new eyes—eyes that were filled with the vision of only you, an angel come to life beneath him, your holy light shining so brightly that he wasn’t sure you were real.

He often had to remind himself that you were.

Sometimes Eddie had to pinch himself just to convince himself that you weren't a beautiful, haunting illusion about to slip through his fingers. It was why he touched you with greedy hands at every opportunity. He touched you because he could, gripping the fat of your thighs, the curve of your hips, the pudge of your stomach, your tits, your cheeks, and your hands.

He was never cruel. Firm, yes; mocking, sometimes, but he could never hurt you. Eddie would hold you with strong hands that never stilled unless he was pounding into you, forcing unholy moans from your pretty mouth.

And unless he was kissing you, his tongue in your mouth, twirling and dancing with yours, he couldn’t stay silent. Eddie loved to whisper sweet nothings in between searing kisses. He would growl in your ear while carving his way to your guts. He would babble mindlessly as he chased his orgasm, fucking you through one, then a second, and then a third.

Some nights he was wild and untamed, whereas others he was kind and gentle.

No matter what, it was always a religious experience.

And tonight was no different.

Eddie had you on your back with your hands pinned above your head; he was holding both of your wrists in one of his larger hands. Your legs were around his waist, and the heels of your feet were pressing into his backside to draw him deeper as he rolled his hips and found that sweet spot that made you sing. Tears ebbed at your lash line, and he chased each one that fell with an eager tongue.

It was a cool evening in Hawkins, Indiana. Sometime past ten, a light rain had settled over the town. Eddie could hear the pitter-patter of droplets as they hit the roof of the caravan, the slide as they cascaded down the awnings, and the splatter as they hit the ground. The window was open, and a cool breeze was playing with the curtains, leaving his sweat-slicked skin goosepimpled.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured. His voice was rough and heavy with lust. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he continued, mumbling the words against the slope of your neck, where he scrapped his teeth over your racing pulse. You arched beneath him when he dragged a ringed hand down your body, cruising from your throat to your chest, where he paused to brush a thumb over your peddled nipple before tugging on it a little meanly.

He listened to the way your breath hitched and the needy moan that tumbled past your lips when he moved his hand lower to the apex of your thighs. Eddie Munson was a simple man who loved you in this state—cock-drunk and floating in the clouds.

He loved to watch you come undone for him. He loved the way your back would arch, the way your muscles would tighten and flex, how you pulled him in and pushed him away when the pleasure mounted, and the way you couldn’t seem to get enough air while riding each orgasm. He couldn’t get enough of you; he was addicted to you.

“Bet you’re sensitive, baby.” Eddie said, gliding his pointer and ring finger on either side of your clit, which was still buzzing from the last orgasm he’d pulled from the depths of your soul. He felt you twitch beneath him, heard the sharp intake of breath, and heard the muffled whine that escaped your pretty mouth. “But look at you—still s’fucking wet. You’ve soaked the sheets, girl. But you're gonna cum again, aren’t you? Good, I need to hear those pretty sounds.”

He posed it as a question, but he wasn’t asking. Eddie took advantage of your delirious state, licking a long, wet strip up the column of your throat and moaned deeply as he savoured the sweat-slicked taste of your skin. Eddie didn't care that you were sweaty, that you were dishevelled, or that you were making a mess of his sheets. He cared that you were here and that you were beneath him.

He watched your face as he rolled his hips, his cock piercing through your velvet walls and his balls slapping against your ass as he drove deeper. Your lips parted in a perfect 'o', and you squirmed, straining to close your legs only to find his slim waist holding them open as a familiar heat sparked to life between your hips.

“I can’t.”

He said the words with you, as he already knew that you would say them. Eddie Munson was a menace that ruled your life, and you were a marionette on a string, so sweet and eager to please him. He could play you like a fiddle. He knew what words built you up and which ones sent you tumbling down again. As though to prove this, he circled his fingers around your clit, slick with arousal, left, then right, then spread them again, trapping your clit between his fingers with just a hint of pressure.

You keened loudly, throwing your head back and exposing your throat—an invitation that he quickly accepted. Eddie smeared hot, wet kisses along your skin, listening to the whimpers and whines that spilt from your lips as he rubbed your nub, enjoying the way you tugged at your wrists and writhed beneath him. “S’too much, Eddie. Eddie, please, please.”

You sounded so pretty when you begged; your voice was breathless and ethereal as you begged for something you couldn't decide on. Mercy or more—you didn't know.

But he did.

"You can," he replied. Eddie buried his face against your neck, his hot breath balmy against your skin, as he nuzzled his nose below the curve of your jaw before sucking a dark mark into your skin. "Just one more, I promise, baby, then I'll let you rest." It was the devil's lie, one that came easily from his tongue.

Eddie Munson was an addict, and you were his drug of choice. In truth, he knew that he would be going to hell, so he was going to enjoy heaven while he could. He kissed you without warning. Hard, slowly, thoroughly, just because he could. It made you moan and made your toes curl.

“Need you to cum again—fuck—just one more, that’s all I want."

“Mhmm, okay,” you whimpered, high-pitched and breathless, as he moved his fingers in tight circles around your nub, switching direction once, then twice. And then he moved. Eddie sat back on his haunches, threw your legs over his shoulders, and pulled you closer so that he could drive deeper, until you felt him in your lungs.

Your obedience and willingness made him smile. Eddie licked your calf, his teeth scraping teasingly at your ankle. Your pussy clenched hotly around his aching length. "You're such a good girl, aren’t you? S’fucking pretty, s’fucking sweet. Fuck, I love you,” he rambled, lost in the moment. The taste of you swimming in his mouth and the sight of you flooding his eyes were too much for him to bear.

You were beautiful; an angel trapped it in a rhapsody of pleasure—all his. Eddie pulled out slowly, your velvet heat clutching at his cock. He watched with wide and wondrous eyes as your hole clenched and winked at him, but it was the combination of pre-cum and slick dripping from you—the way it slid down the crack of your ass and joined the mess you'd made of the sheets—that broke his resolve.

The groan that clawed up the back of his throat was something feral and all-consuming, calling to something buried inside of you. Your answering whine was desperate. Eddie grabbed your jaw, his thumb dragging over your lower lip, so that he could watch the blissed expression in your eyes as he filled you again, hard and to the brim. "Look at you, girl, so cum-drunk that you're leaking on my cock. My pretty, perfect girl."

Time began to slow down. Heat slithered like a snake through your veins, slow to start as it set your body aflame, and then faster, striking with venom and fangs until your eyes rolled so far back that Eddie was sure you'd see your own brain. You were in a trance, and it was no one but Eddie’s fault.

You couldn’t answer him, even if you had wanted to. Each time he fucked into you, his cock spearing through your walls and reaching the depths of your being, the air was forced from your lungs, leaving you breathless and floating higher in the sky. He left a trail of wet kisses along your ankle, lapping at each bite with an eager tongue while he found your mound with the opposite hand, thumb swiping left and right, then, round and round, your clit.

The piston of his hips didn’t slow when you pushed against his abdomen, nails scratching the surface of his skin as though you wanted to burrow beneath it and live there. Eddie watched your face—the way your mouth twisted and tears dripped from the corners of your eyes because of the over stimulation. He listened to your wild breaths and felt how your body begged for mercy while your soul screamed for more, more, more.

“Too much, Eddie,” you gasped, all breathless and sweet. Eddie smiled down at you, a beautiful lopsided grin that had the snake in your veins pulling tighter. It was so tight now that you thought you might die—that your bones would break and your heart would give. But the look in your eyes—that sly come-hither stare—told him you needed that release almost as much as you needed to breathe.

"You're going to be a good girl and cum for me, yeah? You're squeezing my dick so tight, baby, you're going to fucking break it.” Eddie chortled. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripped from his nose, and landed on your chest as he bent to brush his mouth against yours. Your legs fell from his shoulders, knees coming to rest in the crook's of his arms as he shadowed over you like a perfect machiavellian devil.

His lips smashed against yours in a kiss made entirely of tongue, teeth, and saliva. It was messy, sloppy, and desperate, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when you finally parted. Eddie was lost, chasing his own release that was hurtling towards him like a semi with its brakes cut.

And then it happened, all at once and without warning.

One moment you grabbed at him, clawing at his back and pulling on his hair, and then you were breathless, your limbs locked and your head thrown back. It was like the sky split open and a bolt of lightning speared through you, connecting with that sweet spot Eddie was abusing, only to arch throughout your body. You came screaming his name, and it was the sound of heaven, and he rejoiced.

"You're so good to me, sweet girl," Eddie said. His lips left a trail of blistering kisses from your chin, down your jaw, and to your neck, where he hid his face against your sweat-slicked skin. His breath was wild and balmy as he panted against your skin. His muscles twisted and knotted as the force of his impending orgasm grew. "I'm going—fuck—I'm going to marry you. I'm going to put a ring on your finger and buy you a fucking house."

And he meant it. If there was one thing on God's green earth that Eddie Munson was completely and irrevocably certain about, it was you. He was going to make you his wife. He was going to give you his name. He was going to give you his kids.

He felt you grab him again, your nails reclaiming their position on his shoulders as the world started to fade into background ambience. A haze overcame his vision, glowing orange from the fire raging within him. And then the tension in his body broke, ricocheting through him with the force of a hurricane.

Eddie speared through your walls one last time before settling deep within you, so deep that you could feel him pressing against the back of your throat. His weight above you was like a weighted blanket that is smothering but comfortable. It kept you grounded while you ride the coattails of your orgasm. Eddie came with a guttural groan, his abdominal muscles flexing as he filled you with thick ropes of his seed.

Seconds slid into minutes before he withdrew and collapsed to the bed at your side. The sheets were a mess at the foot of the bed, and the sound of the rain was louder now. The room smelled like sweat, sex, and fresh rain. You were both quiet as you floated through the clouds, content to lay side-by-side and let the silence bloom. There was nothing either of you had to say—the moment was already perfect because, while Eddie Munson wasn't religious, he did believe in heaven.

And with you, he felt born again.

tags: @hideoutside

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you

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connecformers · 2 months ago

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omggg <3 ty ily pooks

People Currently In Federal* Jail

@the-republic-of-california-fr-fr

(Being a narc)

@the-fr-north-carolina-totally

(Tax evasion)

@missouri-real

(Tax evasion)

@non-tyrannical-usa

(Aiding and abetting tax evasion)

@washington-offical

(Assault with a deadly environment)

@totally-california

(Avoiding arrest, embezzlement, and tax evasion)

that one freaky anon who threatened California

(terrorism, coercion, blackmail)

@bees-official

(not letting me be a hypocrite)

@maryland-officially @maryland-no-rabies @marylandaccountx3 @marylandaccountx4 @maryland6th

(Tax evasion and too many usernames)

@yahooo-official

(Arson, tax evasion, second degree murder, first degree manslaughter, grand larceny, petty theft)

@definitely-mihoyo

(taunting me)

@real-california-republic @the-real-nevada

(horny jail)

@real-british-empire

(BRITAIN ISNT FUCKING REAL)

#/p #DANCING AND SINGING IN THE RAIN

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jihyoruri · 5 months ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ COMING DOWN kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings wow!yn, slight smoking, chaewon is down bad that’s all, listening to coming down by the weekend fits the vibe wow!kim chaewon x wow!yn i suggest you read my other wow fics before this one they’re in my masterlist <3

the sound of rain and soft music filled the room setting a calming mood for the five girls in the room, like always the found their way in the girls room, it had a way of always setting the mood.

yujin had her face stuck in her phone as she laid in yn’s bed like always, while the other girls camped out on the floor.

rei drew on one of yn’s converse that she found in her room singing softly to the lyrics along with yn who sang along as well as she practically laid on top of the other girls, her head on wonyoung’s lap and her legs resting on jiwon’s thighs.

yn groaned as she stretched out her bedding causing her shirt to rise up revealing her star tattoo on her hip line causing wonyoung to gasp and bring her fingers to the girls lower front on top of the stars.

“when did you get this!?” she asked in shock causing yn to laugh.

“feeling me up like this? I knew you were in love with me.” she teased causing wonyoung to roll her eyes and remove her hands from yn and to the girls hair tugging it slightly.

“ow!”

“I got like a month ago, I brought jiwon with me.” yn says her face pinched up from wonyoung’s tug.

rei looked up from yn’s shoe in offence, “but I’m your tattoo buddy.” she whines.

“sorry dude.” yn said as she leaned up from wonyoung’s lap and leaned forward towards jiwon, “i just love how concerned she gets when it’s finished .” yn says closely to jiwon’s ear causing the other girls face to heat up, “it’s cute.”

wonyoyng rolled her eyes and tugged yn back down into her lap, “you need to lay off the tattoos, you keep giving our managers a heart attack.” she says flicking the girls forehead.

“that’s what I've been saying!” yujin says from the bed, “but you guys make it seem like I’m being this crazy leader.”

“cause you are babe.” yn says opening her mouth to bite wonyoung’s finger causing the girl to shriek.

“that was gross!”

“there’s people in the world that would kill for me to bite their finger, consider yourself lucky.” yn teases wonyoung who can’t help but laugh at the girls comment.

silence fills the room again, only the sound of music and rain being heard before rei speaks again.

“yn are you going again tonight?”

“yeah probably,”

yujin sits up and looks at yn with concern, “going where?”

before yn could respond rei cuts in, “her little hide out.” she giggles, “yn found this abandoned shed looking place and her and her step dad have been working on it for months now, she didn’t tell you?”

“no.” yujin said offended looking down at yn who looked at her unapologetically while playing nudging jiwon with her leg who had most definitely spaced out.

“sorry dude, but you would have definitely stoped me from working on it.” yn shrugs.

yujin mouth drops , “I-I would not!” she looks at wonyoung for help but the girl only sends her a shrug.

“yn’s kinda right,” wonyoung says ignoring yn’s cocky smile, “but hey, it looks pretty cool, there’s like stars everywhere.”

“you’ve been!”

“yeah, we all have.” rei replies.

“I feel so offended right now, what the hell.”

“sorry love,” yn says to the girl, but she didn’t sound sorry, “I’ll take you next time.” she says getting up from the ground and stretching, she smiles at yujin who only glares at her.

“alright, everyone out of my room, I’m heading out.” the girls groan in response, they always loved the vibe of yn’s room, it was comforting and calming.

they all walked out the room while yn grabbed her phone and keys and followed closely behind them and towards the front door.

“be back before midnight!” yujin yells after the girl

“I’ll think about it!”

✮✮

yn loved the calming sensation she felt whenever she was there, she loved the smell of the incense that her little sister and her group member hanni brought for her to put there, she loved the glow in the dark stars that covered the ceiling, she loved the huge star rug that her step dad told her to put on the cold floor,

she just loved how comfy the place was overall, it felt like her, she felt comfortable, she felt happy with the silence that she could wrap herself with when she there, only the sound of music and rain filling her senses.

she blew the smoke out of her mouth as she laid on the gigantic bean bag that yunjin got for her to put in this place, she doesn’t smoke much, only when she’s with aeri but today just felt like the right time to do it, aeri would probably kill yn if she found out she was doing this without her.

the sound of the soothing music almost putting her to sleep but the sound of her phone going off interrupts her peace.

speaking of yunjin.

9:45 pm jenbaby bro chaewon has been on edge😭

9:45 pm jenbaby she’s acc stressing all of us out she needs to get out of here

9:46 pm jenbaby i have great idea 😁 call her pls that will definitely take her mind off of torturing us if ur torturing her

the things I’ll do for you huh yunjin.

yn slides through her contacts and finds chaewon number, she never really called the girl, only when she was helping her out with her performance, which she had a lot of fun doing cause if there was one thing yn loved it was messing with kim chaewon.

the phone rang for a while and on its last ring is when it was answered.

“hello.”

“hey chaewon ,” yn said looking at the glowing stars on the ceiling, she smiled when she could practically hear chaewon freaking out on the other line, “you free?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, let’s hang out, I’ll send you my location if you’re willing to come in the rain.”

“sure!” chaewon responds a bit to quickly causing yn to quietly chuckle.

“okay, I’ll send you the location, don’t leave me waiting.”

“of course not.” yn couldn’t help but smile at how cute the girl sounded, this was the person who was driving yunjin up the walls?

✮✮

it took kim chaewon under 20 minutes to get to yn’s small hide out.

when she saw yn calling her she didn’t know what to expect.

but she definitely didn’t expect yn to invite her to a very sketchy looking shed.

but when yn opened the door, there was nothing sketchy about it, it looked cosy, it looked homey and it looked like yn.

“hey chae,” yn said closing the door while chaewon walked, chaewon couldn’t help my smile at the girl’s nickname.

“hey..” she trailed off taking off the hood of her sweater, “this place is cool.”

“so cool right?” yn said guiding the girl to the area where she was laying down earlier, “so glad I found it.”

“go settled down.” yn said gesturing for the girl to sit on the big bean bag, “I’m gonna get a blanket.”

chaewon hesitantly sat on the overly large bean bag and tried her best to relax, trying her best to ignore that she’s alone with her crush again.

when yn came back she tossed chaewon a large blanket that had black and white stars all over it, before sitting beside the girl on the bean bag.

chaewon tensed at his close yn was to her, smelt amazing, the last time she was this close to yn, was when yn helped her practice for her stage.

just thinking back to that day had her face heating up.

“so…” she trailed off, “how come you invited me and not yunjin or something?”

“a little birdie told me that you need some cooling down and I just knew I was the right person to do it.”

chaewon face heated up in embarrassment, it was true she did need some cooling down.

“wanna talk about it? I’m like the least judgemental person ever.”

chaewon relaxed her body a little and looked down in her lap, “I’ve just been stressed lately, being a leader is hard, you always have to be strong you know.”

yn just hums in response indicating that’s she’s listening.

“and because I’m embarrassed to cry out of stressfulness, I guess I tend to make everyone else stressed as well, it probably drives everyone crazy no wonder they called you.” she laughs embarrassed.

“honestly it’s understandable.”

chaewon snaps her head to look at yn who laid on her back on the bean bag looking up at the glowing stars, “really?”

“hell yeah, I see it with yujin all the time.”

“I can’t believe me and yujin are going through the same thing, that’s so surreal to me.”

“better believe it,” yn says bringing her hands behind her head, “with all that responsibility it’s bound to get you worked up, I honestly find it impressive.”

“really?”

“yeah, I could never be a leader I’m way too unstable for that,” yn jokes(?) making chaewon let out a small chuckle.

“form the stories I hear from wonyoung, yunjin and yujin you do seem pretty unstable.” she laughs.

“and the ladies love it.”

“oh, shut up.”

“just the facts.”

her and yn talked for a while after that, she really was cooling down, she liked how it felt hanging out with yn, it felt right.

“enough about that, im curious about why you found this place?”

chaewon was starting to get comfortable, even laying down just like how yn was, she was just easy to talk to, even though she will always have that nervous feeling in her chest, yn really knows how to calm a person down.

“I’m a person who needs. to be alone sometimes,” yn says turning on her side to look at chaewon who does the same, “there’s only so much of noise I can take,”

“I went on a midnight walk, most of the time I walk with wonyoung but she was in paris, and I came across this place, it caught my attention because it had a spray painted star on it.”

“of course that was the reason.”

“yeah and during that time a lot was on my mind, their always is but more this time and all i could think about was how I would kill for a place to just have to myself so I can be alone for a little.”

“it looks like the universe really was looking out for you.” chaewon said her face heating up in the dark when she saw yn’s smile from the only light source, the glow in the dark stars that light up the dark room.

“it did, and it had a spray painted star on it, like come on it was meant for me, so I called my step dad about it and her immediately agreed to help me with it.”

“you’ve got a pretty cool step dad.” chaewon said amused at how passionate yn sounded talking about this place, it was cute.

“yeah,”

“it’s cute that you and him worked on this together.” chaewon said feeling a bit bold.

“you’re cute.”

chaewon smiled bashfully while yn brushed her bangs out of her face as the faced each other.

“I think you’re pretty cute too.” she didn’t know where this confidence was coming from.

“oh really?”

“yeah.”

the both started at each other and chaewon felt like she was getting dejavu as her eyes flickered to the lips, this felt exactly like how it felt when yn was helping her practice for her stage.

she hasn’t been able to get the feeling off her mind.

and here it is again, but this time she felt like digging further into it.

her leaned her face closer to yn’s, bringing her hand to the side of the girls neck pulling her closer.

yn carefully moved her hand to chaewon’s waist, leaning her face closer as well.

it felt like forever until chaewon gently pushed her lips onto yn’s.

she felt yns free hand wrap around her lower back and pull her up so she’s sitting on yn’s lower waist as she kissed her back.

this was a feeling she had never felt before, it felt amazing.

she knew who yn was, and she knew this wasn’t happily ever after just yet.

but for now she’s just gonna bask in the feeling.

#wow!yn #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon #chaewon #chaewon x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #chaewon le sserafim #ive #ive x reader

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 1 month ago

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POOR UNFORTUNATE SOUL

KINKTOBER DAY 9 - LITTLE MERMAID AU WITH MATTHEW JOY

Pairing.| Matthew Joy x fem!reader

Summary.| You’re fascinated by the human world and fall in love with a sailor from afar. When you save him, you’re desperate to be united with him. A sea witch offerings a proposition too good for your fairytale ending. If only you listened to how cruel the human world could be.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, outdoor sex, groping, fingering, p in v, Matthew isn’t a nice guy, naive reader.

Word count.| 3.5k

Notes.| Today was meant to be another story but I didn’t finish it in time HAHAH

The human world fascinated you. Most importantly, a particular human in general. It was a feeling you’d never experienced before, a sensation your friends would tell tales of during your childhood, love.

On a lonely night, you spotted the bottom of the ship. The mixture of curiosity and adrenaline fueled your blood yet again and you swam up towards the surface. With your head poked out of the water, the sounds of humans celebrating their successions echoed through your eardrums. In complete awe, you watched them laugh and sway to their sounds of music.

However, a certain human caught your attention. He sat on the edge of the ship, his legs dangling above you as he drank his rum alone. He admired the moonlight and inhaled deeply. The lights illuminated his face hidden behind his shaggy brunette hair, he was gorgeous. You felt almost compelled to call out to him, just to look into his eyes. But before you fell into that temptation, someone shouted “Matthew lad! Come over here!” and he quickly finished his drink and disappeared from your sight.

Matthew. That name sounded so dreamy, so fitting, so desiring. You found yourself following the ship for days, cautiously capturing a glimpse of him every now and again. His voice sounded just as graceful. A deep accent of masculinity and husky. The clothing he wore made him look so handsome, you enjoyed the cream shirts that covered his chest.

But one night, the thunderstorm brewed in the sky like a pot of stew over a fire pit. The rain poured in every direction, the gusts of wind could throw you meters in a different direction. The sky cracked, flashing white as you shot out of the water. You stared up to the ship, swaying over the waves. The shouts and demands of humans were drowned out by the vicious rain and piercing winds. You followed after the ship, watching fearfully as you observed the men try to keep a hold of the ship.

You gasped out as you saw him tumble over the edge, smacking arms first into the water. You shot down into the water after him. He sank so gracefully, his body folded in as the depths of the ocean tried to consume him. You swam up rapidly, your arms latched onto his upper body as you inclined up the surface. There was no point in trying to capture the humans attention, you needed to get Matthew safely to shore, away from the sea.

So you swam in the same direction of the ship. It was a struggle to keep his head up from the water. You whimpered and mumbled to yourself, fearing the worst if you didn’t make it quick enough. You were considered a faster swimmer than most mermaids, but you had no idea how far land was, if land was even nearby yet. But the lights in the distance gave you hope.

As you swam him to shore and wriggled yourself up as far as safely possible on the shore, he laid unconscious underneath you. The storm remained deep in the sea, only a light shower impacted the land. The beach was empty, the sun crept up from the horizon.

You couldn’t help but to admire him up close, your hand rested over his chest as he laid still, your head tilted at the thudding motion in his torso. Matthew had these small scars over his cheek and upper lip. For some reason you found yourself singing to him, a common siren melody as you caressed his chest. His eyes fluttered open, he murmured out gibberish before coughing out the sea water.

You panicked, eyes shooting down to your tail as he spat out as much salt water as possible. As you tried to scoot down to the water, his arms latched onto your upper body. Still mumbling gibberish, his weak blue eyes tried to jump start his consciousness. It would have been easy to slap off his hold, his strength was that weak, but you found your logic drained by him.

After a few heavy blinks, his rough hand cupped your face, he smiled weakly at you. Instantly, he pressed his lips against yours, yours instinctively opened. Both of your lips danced with each other, the corners of your lips widened as his tongue swam into your mouth. Suddenly, he slumped back onto the shore, you hand pressed against his chest, still rising and falling. As you caught your breath, you saw the shining light grow closer, shouts of men echo through the sky, you retreated back into the sea before they could reach you.

The days turned tortuous, you often stalked the island in hopes of seeing him, but never did. The ship he voyeured on was at the docks, so you prayed that they found him and would take him home. You needed to find him, you needed to make sure he was okay.

The anxiety and dread pooled inside of you, what if he passed away shortly after. Every hour you relived the memory of your kiss, it was a firework show of passion.

Days later, you watched the ship depart back into the sea. You followed it for hours, getting every chance to look out for him, but you couldn’t find him. As you followed the ship for weeks, months even, you found yourself in a much different climate. When you almost gave up hope, you smiled as you saw him again, he was sitting on the edge of the ship. This time you felt far more anxious that he’d tumble in, but the sea was calm tonight, sky clear. His ocean eyes looked into the sea, a drink in his hand as he thought to himself. You couldn’t be more relieved that he was alive and healthy, but brutally reminded of the distance between you.

You wondered if he remembered you. If he remembered your passionate kiss. Perhaps it was a recurring dream in his mind, like it was to you. Or maybe he had no memory at all, of the situation, of you.

Your world felt like it ended when the ship docked at a port, all of the men were welcomed by others, you knew Matthew was home. It was unknown if he was greeted by another, a woman in your worst case scenario, he disappeared in the school of humans.

Days after, there was no sign of Matthew, you knew he was gone, it was over. How foolish were you, to even believe that there was a possibility, any possibility of blossoming love? You sulked as you swam, in no particular direction. There was no desire to go back home, seemingly no desire to live anymore.

The eels caught your attention, they swam circles around you slowly, you stopped in your tracks. Their gold eyes beamed into you, you felt compelled to follow them deep into the depths of the sea, there was no fear in your system, hardly any emotion whatsoever. As you swam into a tunnel, you observed the rare daggers of coral that spiked out from the walls, the tunnel grew smaller the deeper you swam, the eels now vanished.

“Come to me, my child” a deep feminine voice echoed.

Your stomach tightened, you stopped momentarily but believed that there was no turning back now. The arms of seaweed tried to wrap around your body, but you brushed them off. As you entered the cave, you saw multiple tentacles squirm out from a dark hole. There were exploding gusts of steam that filled the room. To your prediction, a sea witch emerged before you, echoing your name as she smirked at you.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” she questioned bluntly, but her eyes were dripping with excitement.

“I interacted with a human” you confessed, not a sound of regret or guilt in your tone.

She snorted towards you as her tentacles crawled closer to you.

“Do you know the punishment for such a crime?” she asked, leaking sarcasm.

“Death” you whispered, your head lowered in shame.

There were rumors that sea witches' eyes were connected to the water, but you did not believe it. How stupid you had been to think that you could have gotten away from this.

“Well, good thing I don’t care for justice and order” she informed, a cheeky grin flashed at you.

An eyebrow cocked as you watched her glide around you, her tentacles teased you by wrapping around your tail.

“Then, why summon me here?” you dared to ask. She swam back over to the other side of the cave, her back turned towards you.

“I may know a way to get you to the human world” she answered.

“Really?” you gasped, you could scream at this very moment.

“Yes, to the human world” she repeated, those reassuring words echoed down your eardrums.

Your eyes widened with excitement as you found yourself swimming after her. A devilish smirk locked onto her lips as she admired your look of eagerness. The back of her hand ran down your cheek, you were beautiful indeed. Oh what a shame it would be when you were ruined.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” you pleaded.

“I warn you now, little half fish… Humans ain’t all they seem… They’re not harmless creatures, some are damn right evil” she explained.

You shook your head at her accusation.

“No, you don’t understand, the human I met, well, saved… He was utterly beautiful! I’ve never seen a more captivating creature in my life!”

“Hmgh, the eyes lie…” she snorted.

“No! Not him, I want to be part of his world” you confessed.

A burster of euphoria exploded in you, you swam up to the ceiling as you dropped back down. It couldn’t be more disgusting in the sea witch’s purple eyes, she rolled them dramatically as she swam towards a table covered in potions. Her tentacles poured vials into a conical flask. The liquids formed as a sparkling gold, almost for dramatic effect, it popped alive, the steam lingered up.

“You’ll be able to reverse the spell only for three days. If he is, this one of yours… You’ll stay human forever after the sun sets on the third day. If not, all you have to do is swim back into the depths of the ocean to return back to your true body before said day. But then I’ll have to deliver your punishment for human interaction” she warned.

In reality, the spell was irreversible. But the sea witch was only able to capture the souls of the self-murders. To be able to hear your sounds of suffocation, the sensation of the waters pooling into your lungs as you prayed for the pain to be over, was her deep true desire.

“I’m certain I won’t” you replied confidently.

“However, there is a catch…” her voice trailed, a wicked chuckle followed.

“Which is?” you frowned.

“You’ll lose your voice” she answered.

“My voice! But- How will I be able to tell him that I saved-”

“You’ll have your looks, your pretty face, a new profound body language…” she grinned.

“But I need my voice!”

“Look kid, the spell is for human legs. Just because you have the upper body of a human, doesn’t mean the anatomy is cell for cell. You speak through waves. They speak through airflow. Have you ever spoken above the surface? You think they’re able to speak underwater?” She questioned, a dissatisfied expression locked on. The lie worked perfectly as you naively stared at her.

“But you don’t-”

“Trust me, men don’t like a lot of blabber. Girls who gossip are bores. On land it’s much preferred for women not to say a word. It’s she who holds her tongue who gets the man” she smirked, her slithering tongue rolled over her sharp teeth.

You gulped down your dreadful thoughts. This was the only chance you had at being with him. He had seen you, he would remember who you are, you were certain of it.

“Okay, I’ll do it” you nodded.

“Stupid, stupid fish” she muttered under her breath.

She swirled the vial, you gladly took it and the potion smelt sweet. There was only a second of consideration, she laughed evilly as you downed the golden potion. You gasped for air, but the water filled your altering lungs. A sudden hole cracked open, you looked up as the light shined upon you.

“Swim!” she shouted.

It all occurred in a flash, it felt like a dream. You weren’t even swimming, the current dragged you with it. Your body glowed as your tail firstly split into two. The flashing lights blurred your vision, air pumped through your bloodstream. Within a blink, you were desperately swimming to shore, your mouth gasping for breath as you saw the beach ripple in your sight.

You gasped for air as you rushed up as north of the shore as possible. You spat out the salt water, the usual taste and texture tasting rather salty and feeling thick on your tongue. It was instinct for you to move your newly formed legs, however your limbs were weak and you struggled to keep them composed, eventually you ended up pulling yourself up by your upper body.

As you took heavy breaths of air, you could feel your lungs pump inside of you, for the first time ever. Your eyes stung, body shivered from the cold water, however the warm rays of sun eased your discomfort slightly. However, when you looked down at your human body, you gasped out silently in horror. You were naked, a wave of embarrassment crashed over you as you tried to hide your body. Fortunately, there was an old ripped piece of sail cloth washed up on the sand, you crawled over it and twisted your body around the material.

As you looked around the empty beach, the sudden sounds of barking frightened you. In the distance, an unknown figure seemed to grow larger, it took too long of a moment for you to realize that this creature was charging towards you.

“Kneel Tanner!” that familiar voice roared.

Your body shivered as you curled up into a ball, your face buried in the sand.

“Miss!” the seductive voice called out “What are you doing out here? Were you in a shipwreck?” He sounded worried. “Let me help you” he exhaled and pulled you up to your feet.

The cloth fell from your body as you looked at him, your human. But you were too hypnotized from his beauty to care about your appearance. Shamelessly, you smiled widely at him, your body inched closer to him as you tried to balance your stance, his hands rested on your hips to support you.

“Fuck…” Matthew muttered, his hands trailing over your glistering skin, eyes lingering over your exposed breasts.

It was him, he was here, this was destiny. You smiled at him so widely, as if you enjoyed his moving touch. Matthew smirked at you, his tongue rolled over the cut on his lower lip, your eyes were fixated on his yellow teeth, they looked like tiny pieces of coral.

“You like that, aye?” Matthew murmured, his hands massaged the sides of your rear.

You nodded your head and pushed your upper body up to kiss him, exactly the way that he kissed you. Matthew stilled, only for a quick moment, then he moaned into your mouth, his body quickly mounted you onto the sand.

Even though the sea witch warned you otherwise, you still attempted to talk to him, but it just resulted in you making out with him in a sloppy manner. His hands gripped at your outer thighs, whilst his erection quickly grew in his pants. As you silently chuckled, your hands ran through his greasy blonde streaked hair.

Kissing was weird, but you couldn’t help but to feel drawn to it. The friction it created in your core caused your hips to raise up. Daringly, his hands moved towards your lower region.

“Like this?” He cocked his head to you as his hand roughly pressed against your newly formed cunt.

You gasped out, your hands shooting down pushing his hand away. That felt wrong, despite how pleasuring it was. Matthew tutted and forced his hand back over your glistering pussy, your lip trembled as you couldn’t help but to moan out, a surprising sound echoed out of your mouth.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay, I’m gentle” Matthew assured through a raspy tone. He could feel your body tremble from fear and he exhaled out, his hand still rubbing over your folds. “Where are you from?” he asked, not exactly caring in the moment, only wanting to distract your torment.

You opened your mouth to speak, but pouted when only dry, rough sounds rolled out. The attempt to speak got your throat sore, you needed to hydrate yourself desperately. Matthew grinned at you, it reassured you slightly, but you didn’t realize how sinister it truly was.

“Don’t speak? That’s alright, don’t needa do that around me” Matthew purred, his nose rubbed over your heated face as he forced a digit inside of you.

You mewled out quietly, your eyes swelled with tears from the pain as he pumped his thick finger in and out of your clenching walls. Matthew huffed out in arousal, his eyes now pools of desire, sounds of lust lingered through his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re as tight as a virgin… Shit, are you one?” Matthew’s brows furrowed, he rubbed himself with his free hand.

You nodded your head at him rapidly, not entirely sure what he was asking, Matthew groaned out and quickly freed his aching cock. There was no more time to waste, Matthew needed to claim you now.

“Fuuckkkkk. Okay, okay… I’ll try to take it slow” Matthew promised as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

You gulped down your fears, his hand pressed your shoulder into the sand to stabilize himself. Without warning, he tried to push himself inside of you, you screeched out as loudly as you could, which really wasn’t that loud at all. The tears spilled down your cheeks, your legs thrashed around as you heaved. Matthew pinned your legs down as he grunted out, determined to get his cock inside of you.

“Fuck! You’re- you’re so fucking-!” Matthew stammered, his nostrils flared as he tried to bury himself completely inside of you.

It took a while, with plenty of moments of him laying flat on top of you, hoping that your walls would ease up to his size. You panted underneath him, his weight was crushing you, the desperate attempts to push his weight off of you was already pointless. Gently, his hips inched back and forward as his size finally disappeared inside of you. The full feeling had you crying, you believed he was going to rip you in half. All Matthew had to do was turn his head to the side to keep his guilt at bay, for your looks of sorrow tugged at his heart stings.

As his thrusts got bigger, he crashed his lips back onto yours. It helped ease the pain, kissing him, the distraction was necessary for you to make it through this. The words of the sea witch taunted you, how humans were evil beings, you were so foolish. Now you had to pay the consequences, you needed to get back into the water as soon as possible.

“You’re okay, doing so well sweetheart… My name is Matthew by the way” Matthew smiled at you innocently, as if he wasn’t taking complete advantage of you.

But the softness in his smile made you want to please him, so you smiled back and nodded your head towards him. Then, his lips pressed against yours again, softly, gently, lovingly. As your arms wrapped around his back to hold him close to you, Matthew cried out, his movements stilled, you gasped at the feeling of a warm fluid shooting deep into your tunnel. Your head snapped down whilst Matthew grumbled to himself, his head hung down as his stiff figure slowly softened. The sensation terrified you.

Matthew rolled off of you, his cock flung out onto his dirty shirt and he exhaled, a satisfied grin on his lips. The fact that you couldn’t talk made you seem like you could be the perfect housewife for him. You wouldn’t be able to fight back, not that he ever wanted to argue with you anyways. Seeing you had felt like a miracle, he had been longing for a wife and now that he’d claimed you, no other man would want you.

The fear weighed heavy on you as you processed everything. This was your chance, you needed to get back into the damn water. As he laid carelessly, you winced as your core stung, legs felt like jelly. But nevertheless, you still attempted to crawl your way to the shore. But Matthew’s head snapped up, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow.

“Hey, where are you going?” Matthew mumbled as he slipped his softening cock back into his pants. His hands wrapped around your ankles and you tugged back towards him, you silently mewled. “I need to take you back to mine… It ain’t safe for you out here, don’t want any man taking advantage of you…” he cooled as he brought you into his arms. As he did so, you sniffled and latched onto him.

You poor, unfortunate soul.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #mermaid au #little mermaid au #matthew joy #matthew joy x reader #matthew joy x you #matthew joy smut #in the heart of the sea

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jolalibrary · 3 months ago

Text

the meeting

francisco "frankie" morales x ofc!reader* | collection masterlist

summary: stumbling into a diner in the dead of the night, frankie morales doesn't expect to find anyone there. then he meets you. what begins as a one-night-stand-turned-weekend becomes a no-strings-attached arrangement.

pairing: pre-tf/delta squad francisco morales x ofc!reader (*OFC has name and backstory, but is physically a blank slate) rating: smut. 18+ warnings: smut. nickname is given to the reader by frankie: blue. no y/n. no physical descriptions. one-night stand. p in v. blueberry pie... is actually pie. pre-TF. dual POV. wordcount: 4.6k an: originally posted on AO3. i won't be doing a taglist for this series, so i'd recommend bookmarking on there for email notifications.

You only realise the rain is heavier when the bell chimes.

Lifting your head, dragging it away from blurring pages, you quickly spot the thick droplets pounding, hammering their tiny water-based fists against the glass beside you. The battling temperatures continue to do all it can to fog and smear it, making visibility impossible from the inside to the out.

It forces car lights to blur into scarlet reds and soft whites from your place; makes the bright diner sign out in the parking lot—spelt out in neon tubing—to be hidden, slowly swallowed and consumed by the growing storm.

When you'd first arrived, it had only been a small shower. Sometime between your first coffee and now it had shifted into a downpour—the outside rumbling angrily, accompanied by flashes that ripple across full and fuming clouds.

Stretching, raising arms above your head, you glance out from your booth and land on the figure who'd set the bell off.

They're unzipping, haphazardly throwing down the hood, parting their jacket before you see the side profile of their face. You’re transfixed, unable to blink as they rustle the short hair atop their head—the outside they’ve brought in dripping onto the worn welcome mat of the diner.

It’s Doris who hurries to greet—a favourite of yours.

She’s the kind of person who doesn’t judge when you order more coffee when it’s gone midnight or you’ve barely moved to stretch your legs; she doesn’t ask if you’re sure you should eat another slice of pie or question if studying in a busy diner is as effective as the library.

Doris keeps her nose out. And does so in a way that makes you think, that if you needed advice, she’d give it to you. Just like she quickly begins doing (unsolicitedly) to the mysterious, almost midnight visitor.

Y’from outta town? Doris asks, rich in cheer, all sing-song-like and innocent to the point it would trick even a dubious soul that she doesn’t gossip.

You wait for a response, focusing on taking small sips of your coffee. A break from the books, from note taking and soaking information. Not eavesdropping, not at all.

No. Just got in late. Saw the sign, and thought I’m a man who deserves a warm drink.

Smiling, almost smirking, you take a larger mouthful. Lie, your brain says; a charmer, you think immediately after. Taking in the slope of his nose and the way he looks lost, unsure—as though there had been no thought after escaping the night and the storm and stepping inside.

Of all the places in the empty diner for him to sit, he chooses the booth next to yours. Jacket sliding off, folding it, placing it at the end of the booth bench he’s sitting in as he faces you.

He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t glare when he meets your eyes. Just passes you over, acknowledges but not by too much. It’s you who breaks the stare.

Then Elvis begins playing—as he routinely does. Singing about mail and returning to sender as you tap your pencil against the textbook. Dropping your gaze, and doing your best to ignore him.

You’re not sure your best is going to be good enough.

Six minutes and thirty-nine seconds pass, and in that time you take further glances when you think it’s safe to do so.

For one, taking in how he scratches at the back of his head as he attempts to understand the menu. Next, how broad his chest is, and how it forces the thin fabric of his tee to stretch when he pulls out the menu, lays it down and dips his head lower between his shoulders.

By the following chance you afford yourself a glance, his thumb is pressed to his lips as he studies the plastic, two-sided menu, flipping it over with a crack, before doing so again a few moments later. Undecided, troubled—nostrils flaring as he sighs and you try not to glare through your brows.

You blame the fact it’s been a while for why thoughts are sparking.

Practically unable to stop staring at how thick his fingers are, to stop your body from reacting to the width of his thumb. Your thighs press together under the table, mind running away with itself before it’s snapped back to the present when he flips the menu again.

It’s easier to busy yourself by tapping the toe of your sneaker against the metal pole of the table. Discreet, rubber side up, dotting your paper with the pencil as you urge him to order.

Internally pleading him to.

Counting to thirty and then to sixty, before you drop the pencil and rest your cheek on your palm, staring—more bold and unafraid of confrontation than you might have been minutes ago.

“You having a hard time there or something?”

His head snaps up, eyes a little wide. The stare dripping with surprise before he snorts. Before his index and thumb are lifting the menu, tapping the others against the back.

“What do you recommend?”

“You’d take advice from a stranger?”

Shrugging, he dips his chin, but his eyes remain on you. Dark, yet warm—glancing at you as though he wishes to let them up and down your frame. Before he drags them to the empty plates, the ones stacked, ready to be collected.

“No one else for me to ask.”

You smirk, dropping your hand from your face and straightening your spine. “Touché.”

Then, you make him wait. Take as much of him in as you can. Pencil in hand as you trace the eraser end over, and over a graph in your book. Because he’s handsome, good-looking, in a way that’s understated but you know would make you double-take somewhere else.

It’s the eyes, you try to reason.

A unique mix of doe-eyed and sharp.

Exhaling, you tap your pencil louder before saying, “The coffee is good, and so are any of the pies. The pancakes are good, but not when Ernie is on. And Ernie is currently on—they always taste salty? I try not to think why.”

It’s his turn for his lips to slide into his cheek. “Which pie?”

“Huh?”

He points, right to the plates. “Which pie have you been eating?”

For a second, you take him in. Head tilting, back straight, lips rolling together as you try to place him—nostrils flaring as you take a steadying breath. “Blueberry.”

“Alright then.”

To your surprise, he orders you one too.

It sitting, temptingly in a space between notes, postits and your book. Your stomach grumbles in protest, desperate to taste another slice, knowing the importance of fuel and nutrition to ensure that you don’t fall asleep at the table again.

You wait until he sinks his teeth into it. Tuning in for any groan, any evidence of surprise at how good it tastes. You flick your gaze to him, watching, waiting, eventually stabbing your own fork into it before the filling bursts in your mouth, exploding sweetness that’s balanced by a gentle tang—the crust, as always, both crumbly and smooth, all buttery, a treat. Homely. That’s what it reminds you of, home.

A thing, from the look on his face, he feels too.

“Told you.”

It’s a sight to watch him run his tongue across the front of his teeth, fork sliding across the crumbs on his place. “Not bad for a stranger.”

You release a short laugh, one that you try to bury against the cup you bring to your lips.

“I’m Francisco—Frankie.”

He drops his eyes, embarrassment—most likely. Shyness is another option.

Even with no expectation for a trade, you lick your lips and offer him something else. A nickname as he smiles, eyes narrowing. “—not going to just hand you my name, you could be a murderer.”

“I could be.”

“Your nickname doesn’t suit you.”

“Thank you?”

He laughs, low, but light. It’s then he asks if you’re working, to which you share studying. That you find it easier here, less distractions—

“More pie?”

“There’s that too. What about you? Just fancied a break from the storm?”

Sheepish, that’s the word you’d use. The back of his fingers runs along the stubble on his jaw. “I’ve just landed back. Needed… wanted a minute.”

You nod, letting his words simmer as a bolt of lightning catches you in the corner of your eye.

“Guess we’re one step further away from being strangers.”

He hums, and you dip your head, turning the page of your textbook as it becomes the only noise while one song transitions into another.

Frankie tries not to smile when you jump at a clap of thunder.

He hides it behind his coffee and tries to stare out as another bolt sketches itself across the sky. Then, you ask him if he’ll watch your things so you can use the restroom.

Nodding, throat all of a sudden dry when you stand and he manages to steal a look at your bare legs.

Up until then, he’d only seen the oversized grey sweatshirt from the waist up, and then he finds your shorts sitting somewhere along the middle of your thighs—all skin until socks above sneakers. The latter scuffed, overly worn and likely loved. Things he assesses quickly, training coming into use even when home.

What he doesn't spot is a coat or an umbrella.

A thing which ticks in the back of his head as he wonders how long you’ve been here to have racked up the number of plates and the different glass and cupwear. It ticks over, maths whirring when he hears the bathroom door squeal and the sound of you approaching.

Your thank you comes across softly as you lean back into the seat of your booth chair, rolling your neck—and massaging your temple before reaching for something in your bag.

It’s a test, he thinks when you begin to apply gloss. Sliding it over your lips, not glancing up at, as he tries not to even let his eyes wander. To follow.

He fails.

Watching, seeing it glistening, the exposed lighting above the two of you sparkling on them like glitter.

And, he tries to drink his coffee; tries to think of what the next song could be. Whether it will be Elvis again or something else.

The song begins before he has come up with an answer. Having been too focused, too busy silently working out what flavour your gloss is.

Whether it would be tacky against his mouth—

“If you keep staring, Frankie, I’ll think that you want to take a picture.”

A light laugh escapes him, shaking his head, scratching at the back of his hair as he sighs. “Only if you pose for it.”

Your laugh is loud, sweet—gentle on the ears as you pout and roll your eyes. “You’re distracting me.”

Frankie swallows that you’ve been distracting him since he sat down.

By the time it reaches the third hour he’s been here, Frankie finds himself opposite you.

Having relocated, taken some pity on you to help “test” you on something. It had ended quickly when his hands held your notebook and spotted your illustrations along the edges. That’s when he spots a half-bad sketch of himself. A little heart on his jawline, one of his fingers tracing it on his skin, running over the patch that doesn’t fill in like the rest of his beard, before seeing an arrow with the name Frankie at the end and some dots.

“Morales. My surname.”

Grabbing your notebook back, eraser removing the dots, he watches as you write out his name. Immortalise it against the lines pages of your studying. Committing him there, a memory you can keep or erase, the choice entirely yours.

“Now, give it here.”

For a second, you look like you wish to argue, before you surrender, smirking. Pencil placed down as you lick your lips.

Amongst his name, are notes. Swirly handwriting that becomes more chaotic the longer he thinks you’ve sat here. Some circles, some with bubble clouds drawn around them, doodles on doodles—and then there’s your textbook. Post-its and scraps of receipts sticking out from different parts.

“You studying for an exam?”

Nodding, stretching your back in your seat, a little groan emitting.

“How long have you been here?”

Smiling, more telling than wicked—the opposite, he suspects, of what you intend. Your hand reaches for the pot Doris has left, tilting your cup, his eyes spotting its emptiness before your fingers wrap around the handle the black handle on the glass pot.

“Put the coffee pot down, Blue.”

Laughing, the edges of it cutting into your cheeks, “Blue?”

“Better nickname—because at this point, you’re nothing but blueberries and coffee.”

“Oh. Is that right?”

Wrapping his fingers around the handle, smothering over yours, he stares—ignores it, the pulse from your fingers, the warmth. The way his throat dries and he wants nothing more than to slide a palm up your leg to see if it’s as smooth as he thinks it will be.

“What would you say if I said I think I’d rather be full of something else…”

Your words hang, linger.

Lips sliding up into his cheek, feeling your hands loosen from under his. The silence thick. A second away from it all shifting, ruining, mood dampening and changing. So he leans, elbow resting, then forearm—finding some form of confidence buried under the responsibility he usually has to carry.

“You think you can handle that, Blue?”

“What?”

Swallowing, dropping his voice as he glances over his shoulder before staring at you. “Being full of me.”

There's a definitive pause. A glide of your eyes up and down him. Dragging, practically scraping. “Oh, I think I’d like to give it a go, Morales.”

Placing your notebook down, sliding it across the table—tracing his tongue across his teeth. He nods before muttering get your coat.

That’s when you hand him your name, first only, Liv—but friends call you Livvie. He tries it silently before following you out of the booth into the parking lot.

He follows your car—close, not allowing another vehicle to squeeze in between, but not tailgating.

There are barely any blocks, but he doesn’t chance it. Parking behind you, exiting as you do from yours, throwing his bag over his shoulder, as you wait for him outside an apartment building at the end of a small walkway.

Frankie considers the option to turn back.

To consider his choices, to opt out of something that could become complex, awkward. But, he doesn’t. Not when he holds the door open after you’ve let them both in, or when he rides the elevator to the fourth floor, to the fourth door, four-oh-four you whisper as you stick your key in and the lock sounds in the night.

He doesn’t give it another second when the door shuts behind his back, hand grasping, swallowing your gasp when his mouth slides over yours. Bag thumping to the ground, palms wrapping around the sweatshirt as he forces it to cling to your waist when he presses you to him. Your warm, sweet—all plump lips that have the remainder of your gloss.

Tacky, he thinks. Smirking the thought to your lips as he cradles your jaw, as he licks into your mouth and earns himself his first moan.

“Can still change your mind?”

You shake your head, peeling your sweatshirt off—revealing practicality. A little grey sports bra, nothing impressive, nothing you feel embarrassed for. Your nipples are hard, peeking through the fabric as the light from your kitchen paints you in gooey yellow.

“You can change yours though?”

He smirks, almost snarling out, “Not a fucking chance.”

Throwing your sweatshirt, you slide both thumbs under the band that meets your skin and take that over your head. He almost lunges, crashing his mouth to yours, hand cupping one breast as his thumb rolls over it—circling over it. Walking you back aimlessly, unsure of any route, eyes assessing, watching, until he moves you against a wall.

One hand against it for leverage, his other slips down the band of your shorts—passed cotton, it digging into his wrist as two fingers glide through your slick. Feeling your want, your need, able to spread it, smother it over your clit as you whimper, as your arms knot behind his neck and pull his mouth to mould to yours.

“All for me?”

“Shh,” you whisper, grinning, one of his thick fingers sliding from your swollen clit to dip into your pussy. Your hips grinding into him, against his palm, groaning—almost moaning against your mouth at the feel of you. More so when he catches you whisper, “Please.”

“Answer me then, is this all for me?”

Nodding, lips ghosting over his before he slips another finger in. Sliding them in and out, curling. Feeling you tighten around him, clenching.

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“Not so hard, was it?”

His fingers curl, finding that spongy spot that has you whining a completely different noise—has your fingers digging into him, leaving little marks that’ll take hours to fade. He hopes they bruise.

The more he thrusts his fingers, the more you flutter—the more you rut into his hand. The more the noises you emit become strangled, mewls that are wrapped in a moan.

“That’s it, use me, Blue. Take what you want.”

“Fuck, m’gonna… fuck, I’m so—”

Frankie smothers your babbling with his mouth, licks his tongue into your mouth, vanishes them, erases them. Half-about to confess how hot it is that you’re so riled up, all because of him. That you’ve barely invited him in before you’re humping his hand, desperate, aching all for him.

Your fingers tighten around his forearms, hips shuddering, moaning right into his mouth as he feels your slick coat his fingers, his palm. Working you through it until you’re nudging his hand free, pulling it up to your mouth and meeting his eyes.

Then, you’re a fucking sight, a vision. Tongue sliding between his fingers and up and over them, tasting every part of yourself from his hand before his palms clutch your cheeks. Before his mouth is on yours and you’re guiding him to the bedroom, to your made bed of pale shades and decorative cushions.

“Condoms?”

Your hand reaches, shifts awkwardly for the handle, as he swipes at your hand—leaning over, reaching. He spots them, foil in the centre of papers and—

“Fuck, Blue,” he hisses. Looking down, finding his cock in your hand, mouth hovering closer, teasingly, breath fluttering over the leaking tip as you ask you clean and he nods.

Almost set to choke out words when wet warmth envelopes his cock. Cheeks hollowing, doing all you can to take as much of him from this position as he drops his head back, as his fingers grasp at your sheets, as the condom crinkles in his fingers before it scratches, protesting and reminding of its importance.

He’s throbbing in your mouth. Too in awe of the actual fucking sight of you—a person he met four hours ago—who is now a dream come to life.

“Stop, baby,” he groans, hand on cheek, easing him out of your mouth, “Wanna feel you come around me.”

Your eyes narrow in fury as he shifts back, rests back on his knees, eyes unable to tear away from how you lick the small taste of him from your lips, thumb swiping at the spit that had slid around your parted mouth as he rips the foil open.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Lifting up, taking the condom from the wrapper, sliding it down his cock. “Oh, I want you. Wanted you the moment you walked in.” He laughs, watching your hand wrap around his length. “I mean it—I don’t… don’t do this. But, I had to.”

Taking your hand from around him, leaning you back before lifting your leg, he lines himself up—sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Smearing himself in your wetness, coating him, watching you try to style out your little changes in breath.

“Had to?”

Nodding, “Had to, Morales.”

“Frankie,” he says, urges. Slowly pushing himself in, head tipping as he watches how you stretch around him, how perfect you are, how good.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan as he bottoms out.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your chest arches into him. Your hooked leg tightening, forehead pressing into his neck as he rubs a circle on your back, comforting, aiming for relaxation as your head lifts, as eyes—glassy, lust-blown and filled with want.

“Good girl. S’good for me.”

Then you flutter, loosen a little, grind your hips—

“You like that, Blue?”

“Move, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Please. Please, Frankie—fuck me, fuck me—”

Your words fade, swallowed by a whine as he begins to move. As his hips begin to snap to yours in a rhythm so unrelenting, so desperate. Kissing you between heavy breaths as he lifts you slightly, changes the angle, and swallows a different moan that almost makes him grin as his fingers spread out along your back.

Because fuck you feel good.

A thing he’s sure he groans, says, spills.

Your mouth close to his ear, hands tugging at him, pulling—feeling you everywhere, taking him, all that he’s giving you. As his arm hooks under your leg, spreading you a little more, placing a palm down to the bedsheets as he squeezes the cotton as you tighten around him.

He knows you’re close, can feel it, can see it, a look that he’d seen only in diluted light*,* but now gets a real view of.

And it’s enough to push him over the edge.

“Say my name, baby. Please—”

“Frankie—fuck, m’god, Frankie, right…”

It shifts into a cry, your body tensing as your pussy flutters, tightens—contracting and constricting. Then there’s your nails, the ones clawing at him, scratching. Digging into him in a way he wants you to over, and over, again as he moans.

Because you feel good. Perfect.

His breath fans across your neck and he finds himself so hard, so desperate as he slides in and out, hand grasping at your hip, easing, helping—

“Come for me, Frankie. Need it, need you t—”

“Fuck, m’give it to you.”

It’s dizzying, the way he snaps—gripping your back as liquid pleasure rushes through him, making all sounds mute. Except the ones of his skin slapping against yours—of your whines and breaths as he jolts, as he twitches. Coming hard as a groan rips from his throat. His hips stutter, losing their pace, hearing your whine change as overstimulation layers thickly before he slowly lets himself collapse against you.

A thing, he suspects, you’re eager for. Arms encasing around him, holding him—heartbeat hammering against his in a rhythm that doesn’t match, but could, he supposes.

Then you kiss him.

Drag his mouth to yours, bodies both slick with sweat, glistening, shimmering as your tongue licks a thank you at the back of his teeth and his fingers grasp one of your breasts, sliding a sweat-soaked thumb over your peak as you groan.

He’s not sure of the hour, but he knows it’s morning when he wakes.

The shower’s running. Steam billowing into the bedroom from the ajar door with warm light leaves a line that guides him to you.

A part of him thinks he should leave. Should take the easy option, knowing things—how you feel, how he feels. Hand on your hip between the first and then the second—the time on your clock barely acknowledged as you ask him what he does, where he’s come from.

It rolled from him, the truth. A thing that should frighten him, that he should have held back—

You serve?

Yeah.

Against your sheets, the ones that smell of you and then him and then the two of you, running a hand over his face. Recalling the way you touched his cheek, brushed your palm, staring, before you whispered:

Lemme guess, a pilot?

Eyes widening, hand on your chin as he made you look at him, silently asking, how do’y know, how d’you see me? You kissed him instead of answering.

It's why it would be easy to go—to leave in the mid-morning, disappear, vanish.

But his feet are taking him to the bathroom door, pushing it open with two fingers—the same two that tipped your chin up, made you look him in the eye as you came on his cock—steam greeting him before it clears. Before he sees your back to him, half-covered by droplets and glass until he’s padding across tiles, remembering your words the last time when you’d been shimmering with sweat—

“I can’t do serious, Morales. So if you have a taste of me, don’t fall in love with me.”

He’d snorted, sliding his mouth down your stomach, thighs twitching against his palm as it remembered the other ways he’d already made it shake. “It’ll be you falling when I’ve done with you.”

Your fingers slide the glass open now, that conversation there, hanging like fairy lights that you both ignore as water cascades down your skin—and he steps in, welcomed, lips finding yours as the glass shakes when it slams back into place.

It’s a few more hours until he’s dressing, until he’s drinking a cup of coffee and finding himself having trouble making an excuse to leave.

Because these things aren’t easy, comfortable. Yet this is.

Opening the door, the scent of coffee from the pot you made still filling your place, you let him pass—hovering, lingering.

“Hey?”

Glancing at you, how you’re biting the nail on your thumb, one foot on the other. “Maybe, call me—when you’re next in town? If you want.”

“Thought you didn’t do strings.”

“We can be friends… can’t we? Friends who…”

“Fuck?”

He watches you nod, laughing, before he mumbles friends into the air as he lags. Swallowing. Fingers lightly tapping against his jeans before he rests his arm against the door. “Blue?”

“Hm.”

“What if I said I’m not expected anywhere for two more days.”

Your teeth bite your lower lip, scratching at the back of your head, before that same hand grabs a fistful of his shirt, moving closer, chin tilted up. “I’d say, I think I could handle a bit more of you, Morales. If you want?”

an: a huge thank you to @luxurychristmaspudding for reading this and helping me spot the hilarious typos (you're a real one). to @pedgito for holding my hand so tight since i said "i think i want to do a kink list" and then spinning a wheel which unveils the kinks in the next few pieces. i'd be lost.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfic

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mphoenix-7 · 5 months ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 7: The Cabin: Day 3

Summary: What starts out as a peaceful morning quickly turns steamy after an argument.

Word Count: 9,565

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, smut, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering

A/N: Yeah, you read the warnings right. It’s time. When I tell you this chapter took days to write 😭 different parts got rewritten like four times. The final product is nothing like the drafts. Even editing it there was stuff added, and I got to the point where I just needed to stop and post it. Please enjoy!

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Bitter Allies • Part 7

The storm settled down about thirty minutes after you and Soap ate. It still continued to rain, but the thunder was moving off into the distance, and the wind had stopped completely. You were still forced to stay inside, but at least the worst of the storm had passed. You could look for the damages done tomorrow.

Soap laid down after he finished eating and just rested. You didn't say anything more to each other about his episode, and you didn't expect him to open up. It was a little different for everyone, but sometimes talking about it made it worse. With nothing better to do, you also laid down. The sound of the rain falling softly outside was eventually enough to lull you into sleep.

The next morning, you'd gotten up super earlier. Given the fact you probably went to sleep around 1900 (or 7 pm) that made sense. Soap was still asleep when you got up. He was sleeping on his back, an opened black journal balanced on his chest, and a pencil still in his hand. His arms were bare, meaning sometime last night he'd probably stripped down to his underwear again.

Leaving him be, you got up and decide to see what the damages were from last night's storm. You moved both rocks away from the doors then went out the back door, closer to the lake.

There were tiny sticks everywhere in the back. Once they dried out, they'd be great for the wood stove inside. A few larger branches were also scattered about. The one that caused the loud scrapping noise last night had just barely missed the outhouse, and its limbs were propped right up against the side of the cabin. If it'd fallen a few inches closer, it would have hit the roof. You hate to think about what would have happened if it had.

Hopefully this was the last of the rain for a while. You weren't sure if you could take another storm, and shockingly, not because of Soap. Honestly it hadn't been the absolute worst thing to be trapped inside with the Scot. It'd mostly just been boring. But then again Soap had been out of it most of the night because of the episode he had. You had feeling things would have ended in a shouting contest if he hadn't. Regardless, you didn't want that or for him to get triggered by another thunderstorm.

Luckily, the sun was out, birds were singing, and there wasn't a raincloud in sight. It was beautiful out, and you wanted to enjoy the morning. You hadn't had the chance to go on a walk or a run yet. It would be nice to start off your morning positive for once, unlike the last few days.

To be expected after a storm, it was fairly muddy, puddles of water everywhere. The lake had also risen quite a bit with the new water level came right up to the tree where Soap had been sitting yesterday. So a walk along the shore wasn't going to be possible, but you could handle a little mud in the woods. Heading back inside to the bedroom, you make the decision to go on a nice walk around the woods.

Soap is still asleep on his cot, his brows pinched together slightly, and his book still balanced on his chest. The pencil had slipped from his hand though and now just lay beside him. You move around the room as silently as you can, grabbing the things you need and trying not to wake him in the process. He'd make a sound every now and then, but he never woke up.

Once you were ready, you pause at the bedroom door and look over to his sleeping form. You were debating if you should wake him up to let him know you were going. He hadn't given you that courtesy before. Maybe it was time for a little payback. Time for him to wake up and not know where you are. Odds are though, you'd be back before he's even up. Or he simply wouldn't care.

With that in mind, you gently shut the bedroom door, and head off for your walk.

***

For the first time since arriving to the cabin with Soap, you finally feel some of the stress melting away as you walk through nature. It smells like dirt and rain, and it's absolutely perfect. Even the tension is your shoulders seems to be easing up a bit as well.

You're not sure how long you've been gone. There was no way to keep track of time. At some point though, you decide to turn around and start head back the way you came. You didn't want to go too far from the cabin in case you got lost.

As you're stepping over a fallen tree you used as a landmark to let you know you are heading in the right direction, you hear some rustling coming from some densely packed foliage behind you. You pause for a moment, watching the now still bush. Just as you're about to brush it off as nothing, you swear you hear a growl or a grunt. Adrenaline floods your system, triggering your fight or flight instincts. In this case, you go with the ladder reflex.

Jumping off the falling tree trunk, you start to walk with a quicker pace, trying to distance yourself from whatever you heard. The thought of it being a bear or a mountain lion crossing your mind, making a new fear run down your spine. Sure, you were highly trained in stuff like hand-to-hand, but your expertise was in protecting yourself against humans and maybe dogs, not wild animals. If you had a gun, then yes, you could absolutely take on a wild animal, but you didn't even so much as have a knife on your person to defend yourself with.

As you walk, you keep looking back over your shoulder, though you never see anything. While you are distracted and not looking where you're going, you suddenly step in something squishy. Stopping and looking down, you discover you've stepped in what is probably bear poop. A big fresh pile.

You gag a bit and remove your foot, trying to desperately kick and wipe it off on the foliage and nearby trees. The shit on your shoe distracts you momentarily from the thing you'd been trying to get away from. It's when you hear more of the rustling and sniffing sounds that your blood runs cold.

You look around again, still not seeing anything. The greenery around you is far too dense to get a good view. You know you have to get away, but not knowing what the threat was is really beginning to freak you out.

Forgetting about your soiled shoe, you start to walk again, trying to fight the urge to run. Rationally, you knew that could cause whatever it is that's following you to start chasing you. You just want to be back in the safety of the cabin with Soap. Why didn't you bring one of the flares or the knife? It was just a pocket knife, but it would have been better than nothing.

Once some distance has been made, you pause and listen to see if you're safe. You can still hear the soft low rumbles and the shuffling of leaves like something is tracking you. Soon enough, you can't help it anymore; you start to run. You've got to be almost back by now. Surely you can just outrun whatever it is.

It's hard to listen for anything chasing you while you're running, but every time you look behind you, you don't see anything. The bushes are moving, but you can't tell if it's cause you just slammed through them or if you're really being chased. Not wanting to know the answer, you don't dare to stop until you see the cabin.

Relief floods your system when you see the clearing that houses the cabin. The moment you cross the thresh hold, you expect to feel safe. However you don't. You look back towards where you just came from and watch for any signs that the mystery animal is still following you. There isn't any movement or sounds, only the labored sounds of your breath from running. Slowly, you start to back up towards the cabin, senses heightened.

When your back hits something solid, hands grabbing you, you don't process immediately that it's just Soap. Your mind is still in survival mode. You scream and start trying to fight, getting a few angry and surprised sounds out of the Scot.

"Oof-! Steaming fucking Jesus, States!"

Soap had gotten up shortly after you left. When he couldn't find you, he'd assumed you were out in the woods somewhere and just went about his morning. He also surveyed the damages and decided to pick up sticks until you came back.

When he heard a ton of rustling on one side of the cabin, he went to check it out, and there you were. Your back was to him and you were taking slow steps towards him. You'd been about to run into him, and all he did was put his hands up to stop you, and then you started attacking him.

"What the fuck has gotten into you!?" He grabs your wrists, and you're quick to stop trying to hit him once you come to your senses. You look into his eyes, then hear the sound of the leafs rustle again. Your gaze snaps back to the tree line.

"Something was following me. I-I think it was a bear. I ran all the way back." You find yourself pressing back into Soap. His hands move from your gripping your wrists to holding your sides by your ribs once you turn.

You don't notice it, but Soap stares down at you for a second as you huddle against him. His eyes are softened and filled with concern before turning hard as he scans the woods, looking for this bear. He keeps holding you, keeping your smaller frame close to him. You can feel his hold on you tighten a bit, almost protectively.

As he does, without even fully realizing it yourself, you're starting to relax into his hold. Your body is naturally pulling towards him. He's warm and feels like safety. It's when the fear in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies that you notice all these feelings. You try to tell yourself it's just remnants of adrenaline.

When there's a little more rustling, Soap starts to wordlessly move. His hands drift to your hips, and he moves around you. "Stay here." He mutters to you, walking to the tree line, picking up a big stick along the way for protection.

"Soap, wait! What are you doing?" You really don't want to see him get mauled by a wild animal, but there's not much you can do to stop him aside from pick up a stick for yourself and try to help.

Soap pauses to listen carefully for any movement or signs of danger before poking the stick into the green shrubs in an attempt to startle whatever is in there. You tense up as he does, hands gripping your stick tightly, prepared to fight whatever it is he startles.

A little squeak comes from the bush, and Soap watches as a two squirrels dart back into the woods and up a tree. It causes a laugh to bubble in his chest, one he tries to stop, but soon, his hands are on his knees, and he is laughing at you. All you can do is stand there and glare at him, dropping your stick. It makes a dull thump as it hits the ground.

"It was just a few wee fucking cons! You were running from a squirrel!" He laughs, making your cheeks turn a deep shade of red. You're were not too fond of being laughed at.

"I wasn't running from a squirrel!! I heard growling and-"

Soap is still laughing at you. Any "butterflies" you might have had when he held you were crushed immediately. You hadn't been running from a squirrel. Whatever it was had been big and had a deep growl.

"It was a bear! I swear. I even stepped in its shit!" You motion down to your boot, which just looked muddy, but you knew better. "There was at least one nearby!" This just makes Soap laugh even harder.

"You stepped in bear shite too? Oh, that's too fucking good. I bet that fucking sucks." You don't feel like he's sympathizing with you at all. "Have fun cleaning that mess up. Let me know if you need me to scare off anymore angry, growling squirrels, eh lass?"

Your face is getting red with anger and embarrassment more and more by the second. "Stop laughing at me, you fucking dick! I know what I heard!" You shout at him. It had to have been a bear.

Soap sighs as he finally calms down a little, wiping his eyes like he's wiping away tears. His amused express is at restarting to grow a little irritated with your continued claims about the bear. "Oh quit your fussing! There's no bear here, so just pull that stick from out of your ass and calm down."

"How about you stop acting like I'm stupid! Like I'm making it all up, or I'm some paranoid idiot! Even if it was nothing, it still felt like I was being chased."

Soap rolls his eyes, huffing a little. "States, seriously, you're fine so let it go. Stop acting like a wee little girl and start acting like you're a grown ass woman in the military. Go inside, calm down a bit, and come help me pick up sticks."

You roll your eyes at him. You know what you heard. You know how you felt. He could say you got scared by squirrels, but you knew better.

"Go fuck yourself, Soap. I'm not helping you with shit. I'm hungry. I'm going to make food." You grumble, leaving him and stomping towards the cabin.

"Make me some too, aye?!" He calls after you. He was insufferable. You still have four more days of this. The third wasn't even close to being over.

"No!" You shout back, getting a scoff from him.

"Brat." He mutters under his breath as he watches you disappear around the side of the cabin.

You retreat to the cabin, kicking your poop covered shoe off by the door outside before you went in. You'd had enough of being in the woods for today. Outside for that matter. You were certain there was a bear out there somewhere, and you weren't looking to run into it again. If possible, you were content to stay inside and read the rest of the day.

You search around a little bit for something good to eat, eventually settling on making some eggs. Putting a log and a few sticks in the stove, you get a fire going. You set the only frying pan you had on the stove top and wait for it to heat up. Once it does, you take out the eggs and flip the carton open.

Before you can grab one, a scratching sound near the front door makes you jump. You're tense for only a few seconds before huffing and relaxing. It had to just be Soap messing with you.

"Fuck off, MacTavish!" You shout, trying to go back to your cooking, but it keeps happening. Sighing in annoyance, you storm over to the front door. "Soap, I swear, I'm going to kill you if you keep it up!" You shout angrily, pushing the door open, but not seeing any sign on the Scot.

You venture outside a little more, but you don't see him anywhere. What if he wasn't the one messing with you? What if it was the animal from earlier? An uneasy feeling settles over you.

"Soap?" You call out softly, but you get no reply. You even try to peak around the cabin to see if he was hiding by the sides. When you don't spot him, you begin to feel more on edge. Groaning in frustration, telling yourself not to worry, you head back inside.

You pick up the egg carton and try to resume your cooking, though you're still tense and on edge. You'd just managed to pop the lid on the eggs open when Soap comes bolting out of the bedroom. He's making a big scene, growling and snarling, almost like he's pretending to be a bear.

The second he does, your heart is leaping into your throat and you scream. Adrenaline surges through you as you instinctively use the thing in your hand as a weapon. Soap is pretty much right behind you by then, and your muscles react faster than your mind can process. You smash the small paper carton into his chest with all your might, the impact causing most of eggs to burst out of their shells, yolks splattering across his shirt and dripping onto the floor.

Soap stumbles back a step, a mixture of surprise, shock, and anger prominent on his features as he looks down at his shirt. As he does, the box falls to the ground. Any eggs that hadn't broken certainly did as it hit the hard wooden floor.

Your body is buzzing, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you look down at the carton, equally shocked. All of your eggs are gone. Meanwhile, Soap is standing there mirroring your expression. His jaw is dropped, and his clean shirt is splattered with a generous dose of raw eggs. You both stand in stunned silence, until all hell breaks loose.

"Jesus, States!" Soap exclaims, wiping the yolky mess off his chest and onto the floor. "Why the fuck would you do that?! Why did you toss the whole damn carton at me!? That's literally the best fucking thing we have to eat!"

You're in shock. He's really going to get mad at you?

"You're joking right now?" You inquire, raising your eyebrows at him. "Tell me you are joking! You're gonna get mad at me when you're the one who fucking just scared the shit out of me!?"

"I didn't think you'd freak the fuck out and throw all our fucking eggs at me!"

"I didn't think you'd be acting like a child and trying to pull a pathetic prank on me! You scared me for no fucking reason!"

"Oh for the love of God, woman," he growls. "Get a sense of humor! It'd do you some good. Now we have no eggs and my shirt is fucking ruined! I only brought four pairs! I don't have a washing machine or an endless supply of shirts at my disposal!"

"You'd still have a clean shirt if you weren't such a jerk!" You shout back, hands clenching into fists at your sides.

"It was a bloody joke! What about you? Thought you were supposed to be a field specialist. Couldn't hear me coming? Didn't know something was up? Are you that fucking bad at your job?" Soap was pissed at this point to be taking jabs at your line of work.

You laugh, the sound lacking any amusement. All that was there was pure rage and spite. "The hell did you say? I'm not good at my job?" You ask lowly. "I reacted like anyone would when they're scared out of their mind! Forgive me for assuming I wouldn't have to be on guard around someone who is on the same team as me!"

"Ah, don't start with that shite again." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

"Don't you dare fucking walk away from me, MacTavish! I'm not done with you!" You follow after him, moving to block his path. He's trying to head into the bedroom.

Soap glares down at you as you stand in his way. His chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths. "I'd fucking like to get a clean shirt," he growls, gesturing to his chest, still smeared with the remnants of the eggs. "So move."

He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own. He pushes you back into the bedroom and off to the right side of the room where your cot is, simmering in anger.

God, he was so livid. He just wanted to get his shirt and get out of this cabin before he did something he'd regret. Tension had been building rapidly between you since day one. Ghost's words had been haunting him for the last three days, and it was all he'd been able to think about.

You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system.

"Don't push me!" You growl, shoving Soap's hands off you even as he's retracing them.

"Then get the fuck away from me! Leave!" Soap shouts, ripping his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the ground.

"Really? You're telling me to leave when you're the one who started this?!"

"Yeah, I am! So fuck off!" He seethes, storming over to your shared dresser and pulling out a clean shirt for himself.

He doesn't wait to put the shirt on, instead just making a break for the door. You're far too upset to just let him leave though. Moving fast, you block the doorway again, a hand on each side of the frame, trapping Soap inside. Though he could easily plow right through you if he wanted, he just glares down at you.

"Get out of the way, States."

"You know, maybe if you were a better teammate we wouldn't be in this mess! It's your fault we're in this damn cabin anyway!" You point a finger at him, poking him in the chest and adding to his annoyance.

The second you poke him, he snaps. He was so fucking done with this. His patience was hanging by a thin thread, and you just cut it with a knife. In a flash, he grabs your wrist, twisting it so that your finger is pulled away from his chest. His grip was firm, but not painful as he forces you to walk backwards into the kitchen. He glares at you, his blue eyes icy and filled with anger.

"You know what, States?!" He barks, his voice deep and filled with venom. "You think you're so bloody perfect, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you're not! You mess up all the fucking time! Just like how you messed up in Naryn!"

He moves closer, his face inches from yours. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, see the fury burning in his eyes. Your chest as heaving as you stare up at him.

"Why do hate me so damn much! Tell me, Soap. What did I ever do, that from day one, I became the one person you're ever an asshole to?!" You shout back at him, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"I'm not doing this right now." He growls, releasing your wrist and turning to retreat, but you want answers. You follow right after him and block his exit yet again, making his fists clench as his sides.

"No! You're going to answer me!"

"States."

"Why do you hate me?!"

"Move."

"Or what?" You challenge, not aware how close Soap is to snapping. Your eyes are locked on each other, each refusing to look away.

You're both breathing heavily, and the tension in the cabin is building to a very unstable level the longer you hold eye contact. The very thin string that's been keeping you apart is slowly breaking, snapping slowly until there's just the most fragile thread holding everything together.

Then Soap looks down at your lips, his eyes the knife that makes it all come shattering apart. Before he could think twice, before he can rationalize it, he grabs your face, leans down, and captures your lips with his in a rough, angry kiss. It was spontaneous, impulsive, and probably a terrible idea. But in that moment, he didn't give a damn.

You stand there in shock.

He's kissing you.... Soap MacTavish was kissing you....

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was rough. All teeth and tongue and force.

It was confusing. It made your head spin, making you feel instantly dizzy. But you didn't want to pull away.

You hesitate only for a moment before grabbing his head in both of your hands and pulling his lips harder against yours. Your body presses right up against his as you meet each of his kisses with a fury of your own.

Soap is taken aback by your response. He fully expected you to pull back, slap him, yell at him. But instead, your hands are tangling in his short hair, pulling him in closer.

Well, fuck.

He deepens the kiss, his hands slipping down to circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, your arms circling his neck, keeping his lips on yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, your chest pressed against his, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intoxicating, maddening, and thrilling.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and desire. You bite down on his lip and barely register the small, primal sound of satisfaction that rumbles in Soap's throat as you do. His hands move from pressing you against him to gripping your hips. With a grunt, Soap is pushing you back against the closest wall he can find. Your lips pop apart for just a second before he's smashing his back against yours.

He pins you against the wall with his body while your hands eagerly run down his chest and torso. Every time he moves, his muscle flex under his skin. You can’t take your hands off him.

His hands can’t seem to help exploring either. They restlessly roam every inch of you he can touch. Eventually, his hands find the hem of your shirt, and he wastes no time in getting the chance to feel the soft skin of your torso.

The thin fabric of your shirt offers little resistance as he slips his hands underneath it. You feel his roughened fingertips trace up your sides, moving until he reaches your breasts. He cups both of your breasts through your bra, giving them a firm squeeze before gently kneading them. You gasp against his lips, a soft, needy whine leaving you.

Oh hell...

Soap is in deep now. He doesn't care about the consequences, about what this might mean for you both. At this moment, all he wants is you.

"States," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you open your eyes as your lips part a little.

He's still so close to you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against your lips and mixing with your own. His eyes are locked onto yours, his gaze darkened and pupils blown. Like he’s a starved man staring down an animal he wants to devour. It’s almost too intense. Your eyes leave his, flicking down to his lips for a second. They’re red and glossy from your intense make out. You’re sure yours look the same to him.

You don’t get to admire his swollen lips for long. The moment you break eye contact, he strikes. His lips are back on yours, a deep groan leaving him when you instantly return his kiss.

His hands have left your breasts, quickly trailing down your body to grope your plump round ass. He gives both cheeks a firm squeeze, pulling you away from the wall just a bit. One hand moves up to the curve of your spine, the other staying on your butt cheek. He then grinds his hips against you, pulling you tight against him as he does.

You moan at the friction, able to feel him through his pants. He's getting hard right against your thigh as he shamelessly squishes you into his growing erection. His hips are gently humping into you, and you want to move too, but he’s holding you far too tightly.

You didn't think you'd ever be in this position. Kissing, let alone dry humping, on Soap MacTavish. Yet here you are, locking lips with him in some kind of sick, hate filled dance.

Not able to move much, you move a hand to the back of Soap’s neck and gently, but firmly, dragging your nails from the base of his skull to the side of his neck. It pulls a shuddery moan from him and makes his hips lose their rhythm.

Soap suddenly pulls away a little, slamming you back against the wall once more. You grunt as he does, pain radiating up your back. With how much he was slamming you around, you were gonna be so bruised tomorrow.

"You fucker." You growl, hands moving to grab his hips as he presses them back into you. He starts to grind once more, a deep chuckle emitting from him.

"You deserved that one." He says, voice almost shaky with lust.

"The hell did I do?" You ask breathily as he leans back in, kissing at the side of your throat. He trails the wet sloppy kisses right up to your ear, his breath hot and voice husky as he offers up an answer.

"You've been driving me fucking mad for six months." He growls lowly, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

You moan softly, his words making the throbbing between your legs so much worse. You press them together, but it doesn’t little to stop the ache.

Soap starts to trail his kisses urgently back down your knee, teeth dragging and lips making delicate popping sounds as he sucks a few marks here and there. You moan quietly into his ear, placing a hand on the back of his head as your eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, he bites down, rather hard, making you gasp and wince. It hurt like hell, but also ignited some hidden pleasure you hadn’t known existed.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You moan, legs buckling, nails digging into Soap’s shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Soap grabs your hips before you can fall, slotting one of his own thighs between yours. He begins to gently rock you against him, soothing that ache with each rub against his flexed muscle. It pulls a satisfied moan from your lips as he grins at you.

"Oh, there you go, lass." He mumbles, leaning in to kiss at the spot he’d bitten. "That feel better? You like that?"

"Ass." You sigh, gripping his arms as you shamelessly start grind on his thigh to get some relief.

He chuckles at your remark, his teeth nipping at your jawline. "Such a brat. You drive me fucking mad, States, you know that?" He growls, his voice low and lustful.

"Yeah, you don't exactly make me sane either." You growl right back at him, making him laugh deeply.

He removes his thigh completely then, making you whimper at the loss. Your legs instantly buckle again, hands holding onto Soap to keep yourself upright. His hands move to your hips almost instantly, steading you and pressing you back against the wall.

"I can't wait to fuck that sense back into you." His lips collide with yours once more in a bruising kiss. It's dizzying the way he kisses you. And when he bites your lip, making you hiss, and he grins about it. Oh you hated him. Cocky bastard.

His hands move from pinning your hips to the wall, to tracing alone the hemline of your pants. As he is kissing you, he starts to unbutton your pants and yank them down. They only make it to your mid thigh before getting stuck. He growls against your lips, muttering something about you, "always being so fucking difficult."

Your mind is too fuzzy to realize what Soap is doing until he's doing it. Your body jerks, and you gasp when you hear the sound of your pants ripping. Your eyes fly open, and you give him a rough shove to view the damage he's done. The seam right between your legs has been torn almost completely in half.

Your jaw drops as you stare down at your pants in shock. You don’t even realize that his arms are snaking around behind you to finish the job. When he gives it another forcible rip, you snap.

"Oh my God! Soap! Are you serious right now?!" You shout at him, the brain fog of sex clearing up quickly. You can't believe he's just destroyed your pants.

"You ruin my shirt, I ruin your pants. Maybe you can use these as rags when you clean up those eggs."

"Like hell I'm not! You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be the one cleaning that up. They wouldn't be there in the first place if you hadn't scared me!"

"Yeah, but you're still the one who threw them."

"I can't help it if my fucking reflexes are triggered! If I clean it up, I'm cleaning it with your clothes, you bast- ahh~" You try to threaten him, but your words are cut short when his fingers find your clit. His thumb has slipped under your panties and is rubbing quick little circled right onto the sensitive thing.

Soap laughs as your words trail off, slowly backing you against the wall as you turn to putty under his touch.

"Oh, steaming Jesus... you're already fucking soaked for me." He growls out, eyes training on where his thumb is moving in your underwear before turning his attention back to you. "You that desperate to get your hands on my clothes, sweetheart?"

You huff at his accusation. "That's not what I said, and you know it." You say through clenched teeth, mind melting. "Your clothes smell like shit anyway. Little egg wouldn't hurt."

His hand shifts slightly then, and his middle finger prodding around just slightly before finding your slick entrance. It takes nothing for his finger to push into your velvety walls. He doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the feeling of his finger inside you. He's thrusting it in and out of you, using his palm to keep a steady pressure on your clit.

"N... nah..." you try to talk but couldn't get the words out. The pleasure is so sudden, and when Soap hits that one spot, you don't even want to try to argue with him anymore.

"This all it take to get you to shut up?" Soap growls, his free hand gripping your hips tightly to keep you from moving. "Huh, States? Just needed someone to finger you real good? To fuck some manners into you?"

"Fuck. You..."

Your nails are digging into his forearms as his hand picks up speed, palm now slapping against your clit with each thrust of his fingers. You can feel the pleasure inside you, building and building. Like a faucet dripping into a bucket where the water is beading up at the rim, so close to breaking and pouring over the edge.

And you might have let yourself come if it weren't Soap who was the one trying to make you go over the edge. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of coming so soon, so easily on his just his fingers. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a long moan, trying desperately to hold on.

"Fuck, States," Soap growls, able to see just how close you are to giving in. He slows down enough to allow his thumb to find your clit once more, rubbing it in slow, hard circles to change up the pace. He wants to hear you moan, to see you lose control.

"Still think you won't clean it up?" He asked, smirking as your glare turns into your rolling your eyes back as he presses his finger right into the place he knew had been making you squeeze down on his finger. Your hips instantly buck against his hand when he does, telling him he had the right spot.

Shifting slightly so his hip is pinning your leg, he brings his now free hand to your throat, which makes you tense a bit. Your breath hitches, expecting him to squeeze and close your airway, but he's holding it gently, not squeezing. Leaning in, he starts to kiss at your lips again, slower this time, but still just as rough and mean.

His finger has stilled now, buried as deep as he can go. He starts to slowly stroke at the spongy tissue, curling his finger against the same spot over and over. He swallows every moan that leaves your lips, pressing himself harder against you when you fight for control by bucking your hips.

"If you promise to be a good girl," he speaks against your lips between harsh slow kisses. "And clean up the mess you made, then I'll let you come." He gives you a few more kisses, not letting you answer immediately. "You gonna be a good girl for me, States? You gonna shut the fuck up, listen, and do what I tell you to?"

He's looking right into your eyes, his hand still on your neck to keep your gaze on him. You were so tired of Soap having all the control. Tired of not being able to get a word in because he had his hands all over you. You growl at him, which just makes him grin.

In an attempt to level the playing field, you reach down to the now very prominent tent in his pants and grip him hard. Needless to say, you're very happy you'd been making eye contact with him when you do. It wipes the grin right off his face.

"Ahh, fuck!" Soap lips part as he lets out a strangled groan, eyes rolling back ever so slightly. His hips buck hard against your hand as you grip him, and he curses.

He feels a lot bigger than what you'd seen when you accidentally walked in on him naked. Then again, he also hadn't been fully erect then. His cock felt hot, heavy, and throbbing now.

His hand leaves your neck to grab at your wrist, gripping it, but not moving it, as you start to rub your palm against his bulge. He watches the action for a little bit, panting heavily, before turning his focus back on you. His hand starts to move again, thrusting into you in time with your rubbing.

Not one to let Soap of all people win, you start to unbutton his pants and reach down into his underwear to pull his rock hard cock free. Soap hisses as you do, and you can tell why the second he springs free. The tip of his cock is an angry red color. It shimmers slightly from the puddle of precum it's been sitting in while in his underwear, and another bead of it was already forming on the slit, getting ready to form into a little droplet and drip down.

Wasting no time, you get to work, stoking up and down his length, working the precum down his entire shaft. Once he's more slick, you start pumping him furiously, stopping every now and then to let your thumb focus on rubbing the sensitive skin under his tip.

And Soap is fucking loving it. He groans heavily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Oh fucking hell, lass. That's it..." He breathes, his hand now slamming back into your pussy in quick thrusts.

"I'm not cleaning up shit." You seethe, voice just above a whisper. Your disobedience earns yourself a stinging bit to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Soap's teeth dig into the soft flesh, and you moan out, a mix of pleasure and pain, right into Soap's ear.

The moans sets something off in Soap. He has to have you. Right here, right now. Nothing else mattered. He needed to feel you clamping down on him. He wanted to rid himself of all the tension from the past three days, clear his mind from the anger, burn it off by fucking you. He wants to make you feel good, feel pain, make you scream his name. And he will.

"You don't want to play nice?" He asks, pulling his hand free from your underwear and yanking your hand away from his cock. "Don't want to take responsibility still? Well that's fucking fine, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so stupid you won't be able to form a single thought let along clean."

You have a retort, but you yelp before you can get it out. You're not sure how he does it, but in a quick movement, Soap has grabbed your legs, wrapped them around his hips, and has you up off the floor. His cock is now resting right in the crease of your ass, your back is still pinned against the wall, and your arms quickly circle his neck for support. The last thing he does is adjust his grip on you, both hands moving to support your ass.

"Doubtful." You egg him on, making him pause to look at you. "You couldn't even make me come on your fingers. What makes you think your cock will be any better?"

Soap glares at you, a snarl forming on his face. "I could've made you come on my fingers, but I'd rather feel you come around my cock."

You rolls your eyes at him. "Bet you'll come before I do."

The glare on his face morphed into a grin that spread slowly onto his face. His member twitches against your ass, and you almost wish you hadn't said what you just said. It was a challenge now, and Soap loved proving you wrong.

"Really?" He snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He shifts you around in his arms, cock dragging along your ass as he pulls his hips back. His tip leaves a cool wet trail. "Let's see if you still think that when you're coming around my cock." You feel the push of his velvety, hot tip as it drags through your folds, lining himself up. "You better brace yourself." He warns, his tone dark and dangerous.

"You better not-”

He pushes into you then. A single, quick thrust of his hips, and his thick length is splitting you in half, filling you completely. You throw your head back against the wall, your breath getting caught in your lungs. Even as slick as you are, it's by no means painless. The sudden intrusion makes your entire body tense as it tries to accommodate him.

"Breathe, States." He instructs, thumbs rubbing circles onto your thighs. At least has the decency to pause for a moment and slowly work his cock the rest of the way into you instead of just ramming you again. By simply lifting your legs a little further up on his hips, you finish sliding down onto him.

His hips are flush with yours, your clit just kissing his hair covered pelvis. You sigh and gasp when your clit meets up with him, the bud still very sensitive. Soap takes a moment to rock you against him, giving your clit a little more stimulation.

"There bonnie. That's better isn't it?" He moans, the gentle rocking feeling good for him too. "Ohh fuck.." He sighs, pressing his forehead to the side of your neck. "You’re so tight."

"That fucking hurt, you fucking ass." You curse him when your breathing finally evens out a bit. That's Soap cue you're ready for more.

"Oh, you're fine. It'll feel good." He readjusts his grip, moving his hands to your thighs, preparing for the harsh fuck he's about to give you.

He wastes no time, dragging his hips back, only leaving his tip inside you, before snapping up into you, starting a brutal pace. You groan loudly, throwing your head back as he slams into you. Each thrust creates a smacking sound as his hips collide with yours. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shoulders and clenching your teeth as you wait for the drag of his cock to feel good.

Soap is already enjoying himself, moaning and panting against your neck. "I'm going to ruin you, States.." He breathes against your skin, his voice a low growl. "Feels so fucking good..."

Then it's like a switch has been flipped. The drag of his cock goes from a dull ache to feeling incredible. He's hitting something in you that's taking your breath away in the best possible way. Once the pleasure starts, there is no more holding back.

A moan tore through your vocal cords, head falling back against the wood behind you. Your walls burn as they stretch and flutter, seeming to form perfectly around his cock. The second Soap has you moaning, he goes harder. His hips piston up into you, making your back slam against the wall. It's probably going to make you so sore later, but fuck you don’t care right now.

Soap is starting to sweat already from his efforts. It's also hot in the cabin. Normally he props the doors open during the day for air flow, but he's not about to stop to do that now. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to look away from you. His eyes stay locked on your face the whole time. Your eyes are shut, your mouth hanging out as moan after moan pour from your lips.

He was out of his mind. Fuck Ghost for always being right. Fuck him for putting this idea in his head.

"Ahhh.. Soap!" You moaning his name is almost his undoing. His hips stutter, and he has to focus on not finishing right then and there. His needs to get you off. Now.

Moving his fingers back your clit, he starts to frantically rub your little nub, making you cry out. Fire is coursing through you, everything is wound too tight.

"Come on, States,” he pants, “That's it. I know you're close, lass. I can feel you fucking trying to milk me. Just let go for me. I know you want to." He coaxes, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck!" You curse, his dirty talk really starting to drive you towards the edge. Your legs are shaking as they lock around him, your clit is burning as he continues to rub it. Harsh slaps filled the cabin as Soap's hips continue to met yours, squishing sounds echoing as his cock penetrates you over and over and over again.

"Come for me lass." Soap commands, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “Come for me right now.”

"I... fucking.. hate you. So damn much." You growl, tears gathering in your eyes from the intense orgasm about your hit. And then you come, relief flooding your veins. All the tension eases up, all your stress is gone. Melting away as each pump of Soap's cock drags out the waves of pleasure.

"Yeah, scream it louder!” Soap pants, pushing harder, slamming you down on him. “There you fucking go. That's it! That's fucking.. Fuck, States!"

Soap feels your walls act like a vice around his member. One squeeze from you is all it takes to drag him towards his own finish. He needed to feel his own release, to feel himself come undone inside you.

As you start to come off your high, Soap is desperately chasing his own, ignoring how your body is starting to relax. He thrusts harder, faster, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you up.

All you can do is grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he buries his face into your shoulder, his stubble ticking you. Your walls are still fluttering in aftershocks, moans and heavy breaths still pouring your lips as Soap fucks you.

Soap is close, you can tell. His breath hitches, his body tensing as he nears his own climax. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate. He could feel it building, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, ready to explode. With one last hard thrust, he comes, shooting his load deep inside you.

He groans heavily into your ear, his cock twitching as the hot ropes of his come paint your insides. He’s finished after three more thrusts, his body shuddering as he pushes into overstimulation. He keeps his forehead against your shoulder, panting heavily while he recovers. He can still feel your walls fluttering around him, could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You cling to him, his hold on you just as tight as the waves of pleasure start to fade for you both. Now that your mind is no longer foggy with lust, something heavy settles in your gut.

What the hell you've just done…

"Fuck," Soap curses, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You feel him shift his hips, allowing his softening member to slip out of you, making you wince. He all but drops your legs, letting them fall from around his waist. You wobble as you try to find your footing, and he pushes you to lean against the wall before taking a step back himself.

You cling to the wall as your shared release begins to drip out of you, running down your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You're panting, as is Soap, as you both try to rationalize what's just happened. Dread and regret settle in the pit of your stomach.

Soap tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand over his face, looking anywhere but at you. You feel so fragile in this moment as you watch him, waiting for his next move.

"Soap?" You whisper, desperate for him to say something. To talk about what just happened, to tell you what this means. But as Soap looks at you, his eyes harden.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He points to the eggs and to the floor under you, his voice cold and distance. He turns to leave, shoving the cabin door open and going God knows where.

Your voice catches in your throat, hurt by his words. You want to stop him, run after him, but you can't. You're in shock, your legs are weak, and you're starting to realize just how much you fucked up.

One second you're in an intense argument with Soap, the next you're fucking each other raw. And now you’re all alone, wondering what hell you just did.

***

Soap needed air. Now. He just made the biggest mistake of his life, and you're looking at him with the most scared and confused eyes. Wondering so many things, things he doesn't have answers for.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He tells you. He knows there's no reason to treat you this way. Especially since he's the one who initiated sex with you, but he's so mad at himself right now. Mad for letting himself give in. And even worse, now you look hurt.

He needs air.

Soap rushes outside, shoving the door firmly like it purposely got in his way. He stands on the porch, running his hands over his face. Trying to calm down. He just needs to breathe for a minute.

Ghost was right about one thing. The orgasm you just pulled from him did release all his tension. Like it was as simple as cutting a single thread. The thing he neglected to tell him was that after all that tension and stress was released, a different kind of tense would creep in.

Actually Soap supposed he was 100% right. Ghost never did say a thing about what it would be like after.

Fuck Ghost…

Soap wants to run. To leave and never come back. But as much as he can't stand you, Soap can't bring himself to leave. Not after your first night together, not after seeing how scared you got. No, as much as he wants to, you are still his squadmate. No man left behind. He can't leave anyone else behind...

However, he is equally aware that he needs time to himself to process everything. Work through some stuff in his head before you talks to you. He should at least help you clean up though. What kind of a guy would he be if he just fucked a girl and left her to clean up the mess. He was already planning on leaving for a few hours to clear his head, he might as well make sure you're somewhat ok before he goes. So you won’t be so stressed.

Sighing, hoping this will just blow over, that somehow you'll never to talk about it, he turns to go back into the cabin.

***

After about a minute of clinging onto the wall, you find enough strength to move. The first thing you do is wiggle out of your destroyed pants and use them to wipe between your legs. Your underwear was still on, but you want to change into a fresh pair. A lot of your arousal had stained them and some of Soap's come had gotten on them when he pulled out.

Once you're clothed again, you make your way back into the kitchen and look down at the white and clear stains on the floor. You want to clean up that stain before anything else. Wipe away the evidence of your coupling. However, you know it's not going to do much. The soreness between your legs is a constant reminder of what happened.

You kneel down, and right as you're about to grab your pants and use them to mop up the mixture of your and Soap's release, the door opens again. You're frozen as Soap walks through, his eyes on you at first. An awkward tension fills the space, and you look away from him, picking at one of the loose strings on your destroyed pants.

Soap finally moves, stepping past you to get to the bedroom and coming out a second later with his egg covered shirt. He kneels down in front of you and uses the sleeve of his shirt to start wiping up the cum stain. Once it's mostly gone, aside from the dampness causing the wood to be two different shades, he moves on to pick the eggs box up and takes it outside.

You get up and start to clean up the eggs while he's gone, knowing you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later. You couldn't just fuck each other and act like nothing happened. Especially with the history you and Soap had.

When Soap comes back, you find yourself tensing up once more, the awkward air returning. He pauses in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to look up him. Eventually, he joins you on the floor, helping you mop up the eggs.

Once the area is clean, or mostly clean (the eggs left a residue), you finally look up at Soap. You open your mouth, wanting to talk to him about everything, but he speaks first.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit. Few hours." He says, moving to stand up.

You want to run after him, tell him to stay so you can talk things out, but a part of you is too ashamed to go after him. You felt like you'd already lost your dignity and running after him would just make you feel even more pathetic.

“Ok…”

You let him leave, the creak of the front door sealing the decision. The moment the door closes, a wave of anguish crashes over you. Now that he's gone, you can finally let the tears fall. The confusion, the anger at yourself, the regret, the shame—all of it eats at you until you're exhausted. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Soap is gone for hours again. It's getting dark, but you can't bring yourself to care as much as you did the first time. Having some time away from him to cry and work out the emotions was actually kind of nice. But the loneliness creeps in, wrapping around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. You curl up on your cot, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

By the time Soap does come back, you're already in your cot, eyes shut but not sleeping. You hear the front door open and close, hear his footsteps come to the bedroom door and wait outside, hear the door slowly push open, and you can image him peeking inside.

"States?" He asks in a really soft voice. You don't answer him.

He comes into the room, and you feel like he's looking at your sleeping form, but you don't dare open your eyes to check. You hear him sigh, and then he starts to quietly move about the room, getting himself ready for bed.

When he finally crawls into his cot, the silence settles heavily over the room. And once it's silent again, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying.

321 notes · View notes

ninthcircleofprythian · 6 months ago

Text

Make It Hurt

Eris Vanserra x You

Word Count : 2.9k

Summary : After a truly terrible day you come home only to be surprised by the one and only Eris Vanserra and he knows how to make it all better.

Warnings : full on smut, no plot, one singular use of y/n, some swearing, heavy praise kink, dirty talk, heavy use of pet names/honorifics, dom! Eris, dom/sub dynamics, bdsm themes, mention of safeword, impact play (spanking), temperature play, explicit sex described - fingering (f recieving), p in v

Author's Notes : This was whipped up quickly while taking a break from other fics, lightly edited so please forgive any mistakes.

Today was one of the most awful days you’ve had in a long time. You head straight into the shower after returning home, ready to wash the thoughts and emotions of this never ending day away. What you need is a good cry and a bottle of wine.

As the water washes over you, you let loose the sobs that have been building in your chest all afternoon. After a few minutes of good hard crying, you feel numb. Your mind is spent, your body is tired and you can’t seem to will yourself into getting out of the shower.

From the other side of the curtain, you hear the telltale shuffling of someone entering the bathroom. Eris. He must have finally been able to sneak away from his father’s supervision long enough to see you. It’s been over a week since the last time.

He remains quiet, not announcing his presence. He thinks he is being stealthy and you haven’t heard him. Normally you are singing at the top of your lungs and wouldn’t hear him until it was too late. Suddenly Eris grabs hold of whatever magic heats your water and with his own fire manipulation he wills the temperature to searing.

On any other day the assault of heat raining down on you would have you skittering out of the spray and screaming at him with playful frustration. Today however it feels like just what you needed, even more cathartic than your earlier crying session.

The hot water scalds your skin and the sensation brings you to your knees on the shower floor with a shouting plea.

“Please!”

In an instant the curtain is torn back. “Fuck. [y/n], are you alright?” Eris’ eyes are wild with worry as he drops his hold on his fire and the water returns to its usual temperature.

“I’m fine,” you sob. “I just need to get out of my head. I need to feel something - else.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He crouches down beside the tub, concern still lacing his features.

“No. Eris -” his name falls from your lips in a gasp. “Make it hurt, please”

The flames within his eyes flare back to life as if they’ve suddenly been fueled with gasoline. His face shifts into that sneering smile he normally reserves for his cruel prince facade as he rises slowly back to standing.

“Since you said please princess.” The timbre of his voice drops into a sultry purr. “First, tell me your safeword.”

You answer without hesitation. “Inferno”

“Good girl.” With a flick of his wrist, he makes the water as hot as he knows you can handle.

It hits your bare back and you whimper from the shock of it before allowing it to settle into your bones. The sensation is delicious, everything you’ve been craving. With a soft groan, you unfold yourself from the hold you have on your folded knees. Leaning back you allow the water to glide over your front. The heat enveloping your breasts chases all your thoughts away.

You begin moving on instinct alone, slipping your hands over the wetness of your body and cradling the heaviness of your breasts in your palms. With a pinch, you are at your nipples, rolling them between your fingers and pulling.

Immediately, the water turns off and you whimper.

“Now, now princess, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Eris’ slithering voice snaps you back into the moment. “That will be your only warning.”

You drop your hands to your lap, steadying your breaths.

“I said, that will be your only warning princess. Do you understand?”

The shiver of your transgression snakes down your spine. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. Now, up.”

Eris holds out a towel and wraps you in it as you step over the side of the tub. The heat of his arms through the towel are nearly as good as the shower. You stand perfectly still as he towels you dry, only moving limbs as he directs you with a gentle tap of his long fingers.

Dropping the towel, he heads for the door. You follow behind him silently. Once in the bedroom, he points at the space between the sofa and the fireplace it is placed in front of.

“On your knees, princess.”

Obediently, you take your position, settling your hands in your lap once again. Eris walks over and opens the closet, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his shirt sleeves past the elbow as he makes his selections. The sight of his strong pale arms flexing is almost enough to make you moan.

Making his way back to the sofa, he settles himself on the cushions, spreading his legs wide. He leans forward, two choices dangling from his fingers. A leather flogger and a hard wooden paddle.

“Take your pick.”

“The paddle please, my Lord.”

“Good choice my little blaze.” His smile that graces his face is purely predatory. He tosses the flogger over to the other side of the sofa and leans back patting his knee. “Straddle me, sweetheart.”

Rising from the floor you approach him, slipping one knee on either side of his hips and settling back onto his lap, hands resting on your thighs. Eris’ firm hands grip your hips and haul you closer so your lower belly is pressed to his taut stomach, the heat of his bulging front brushing against your core. A quiet sigh passes your lips at the thought of that heat all over your body.

“I’ve waited all week to hear that little sigh of yours, princess.” His breath ghosts over your skin as he whispers against you, just below your breasts. Strands of his fiery hair brush against your taut nipples.

Eris’ hands glide smoothly from your hips to cradle your plump bottom. “Maybe we should warm you up a little first,” his mouth still pressed to your middle.

One large hand smacks loudly against your skin. The sting is instant and you let out a small cry of surprise.

Bringing his gaze to yours, his eyes narrow with a seductive grin. “Oh, now, we can do better than that, can't we little blaze?”

“Yes, my Lord.” As you answer he grabs your wrists and brings your palms up to his shoulders.

“Let’s see how many you can take before you are begging to finish on my lap.” The muscles in your core ripple at the thought as you feel your arousal slick through your folds and you stifle a moan in your throat.

His hand strikes your bottom again, on the opposite side this time. The sound that leaves you is no longer one of surprise but a plea.

Eris’ mouth now hovers over your breast, lips teasing but not touching, his heated breath causing your nipple to tighten further. His thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip. No thoughts, just desire.

“That’s it, there’s my needy girl. Count for me, princess.”

“One.” Your voice comes out as a rasping whisper.

Eris chuckles softly against your ear as he reaches for the paddle now. “I believe that was two, sweetheart.”

Before you can correct yourself, the paddle meets your skin with a raging sting.

“Three” you pant out.

Another strike quickly follows. The intensity of the pain and the delicious burn of the hit has you leaning harder into his shoulders. Chills race down your spine, adding to that tightening sensation, your core clenching around nothing drives you mad.

“Four” you cry out, a tear escaping your eye.

Hits five and six have you moaning sinfully and gasping for air. You feel Eris’ warm palm, heated with his fire magic, drag across what you are sure is your very red bottom. The added heat to the already sensitive skin has your nails digging into his shoulders with a groan.

His fingers stray from your hip to your core, dampness coating his fingers before he could even part your folds. He groans, sliding his fingers through your folds gathering more of your arousal. his hips pushing up against your thighs, the seam of his pants threatening to bust open.

“So wet for me princess.” His mouth now trailing whisper soft kisses along your shoulder.

He continues to slide his fingers along the length of you, the anticipation of them entering you nearly driving you wild. You wiggle your hips a little and his hand freezes. You immediately know what you’ve done.

“Uh-uh. You know the rules sweetheart. Use your words,” he commands.

“Please Eris. My Lord. I need it.”

“Need what princess? My hand? Do you want to come all over my fingers?”

“Yes, please,” you whine.

“Tell me, little blaze. Let me hear you say it.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt. I want to come all over them.” Your voice shudders in quick pants.

The groan Eris’ releases creates a wave of chills that leave your legs trembling. “I love hearing you ask to come. It sounds so sweet coming from that filthy mouth.”

His praise has your core clenching on nothing, his fingertips resting right there at your entrance he could feel you fluttering in anticipation.

He hums as two fingers enter you. The stretch of your walls has you gasping as he strokes inside you. Your thighs start shaking even harder as that familiar tightness pulls at your belly. You arch your back as you push down against his hand, trying desperately to seat his fingers deeper.

Before he can chastise you for moving again, you plead in a shuddering moan. “More. Please, my Lord. I need more.”

“That’s it princess. What a good girl.” The lust has his voice deepening sensually.

You feel a third finger at your entrance, Eris eases it in slowly as your walls accommodate it, then he pushes all three as far as they will go. His other hand finds your breast, pinching and pulling at your nipple. The noises you make are constant as his fingers are pumping in and out of you at a punishing pace. Bringing his lips to your shoulder again, he gently scrapes his teeth along your collarbone. His other hand drifts to your lower belly, applying gentle pressure against your womb.

“Let go for me sweetheart. Let me feel you come all over me.”

It only takes two more pounding strokes for you to burst. Pleasure radiates through your core as you squeeze a punishing grip to his shoulders, leaning your forehead against his. Your thighs are shaking so hard as you scream his name, that one knee slips off the cushion. The hand Eris had pressing your middle snaps out and grips you around your waist to keep you from sliding to the floor. His fingers keep pumping, not as hard but just as fast, as you come down from your climax.

Eris removes his fingers from you as you slump against his shoulder, arms twining around his neck. Grabbing your thighs he pulls you further into his lap and settles you more comfortably.

“You did so good, princess,” he says as he nuzzles against your neck, his hands sliding up your back in a gentle caress.

“Mmm.” It’s the only sound you are capable of making. Every muscle in your body feels heavy and satiated. All you can focus on is the heat of Eris’s body pressed tightly against yours.

“You alright?” He whispers against the shell of your ear before placing a tenderly soft kiss at your temple. One hand slides up under your hair to the nape of your neck, fingers massaging at your scalp.

“Perfect,” you answer, gaining back use of your voice. You lift your head to peer into his clear amber eyes. Gone is the seductive smirk of being in control of your pleasure. In its place is the soft look of adoration. “And you?”

“Perfect,” he whispers as he cradles your face and rubs his nose against yours. The insistent mound of his desire is still pressing against you and you roll your hips against him.

A flash pulses through his eyes in question and you answer him with a kiss. Brushing your lips against his once, twice. Then opening up to flick your tongue against his before deepening into it. Your hands slide down his chest, barely grazing against his belt buckle before he swiftly adjusts his hold on you and hauls you towards the bed.

“Not tonight,” he growls as he lowers you to the mattress. “I need to be inside you.”

You gasp as a bright flash of flame quickly dissipates and he stands before you completely bare, the heavy length of him hanging between his legs. Pushing yourself back towards the pillows, Eris climbs toward you, sliding one hand up your calf and over your thigh.

“I’ve needed you all week,” he says, leaning down to kiss one hip. “Every waking thought.” He kisses the other hip. “Was of you.”

He plants the last kiss on your sternum between your breasts, one hand weighing your breast in his palm with a swipe of his thumb over your nipple. A lazy smile graces his face as he watches it pucker.

“That sounds very distracting,” you giggle as you slip both hands into his hair.

He places a soft kiss against your lips as he settles himself over top of you. His cock like a rod of molten metal pressed against your folds.

He huffs out a little laugh at your breathy inhale. “You have no idea. I need you desperately.”

You shift slightly, allowing the hold your legs have on his hips to loosen and letting your thighs fall open beneath him.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, caressing his cheek. “So take me.”

With a sinful groan, his mouth is at your ear nibbling your earlobe. He thrusts against you, his cock parting your folds and sliding through your arousal. With a shift of his hips and the help of his hand, he angles at your entrance.

“Look at me, little blaze. I want to see your face as I fill you with my cock.”

Through heavy lidded eyes you meet his gaze. The wildfire burning within them sets your body alight and you sigh a heavy sigh as he pushes in just a fraction of himself.

“Careful princess, those noises you make do dangerous things to me.”

You smile as he continues to slowly push into you, making sure your next moan is directly next to his ear. Snapping his head back with a gleam in his eye, he watches your face intently as he seats himself fully in one single thrust.

“Eris!” The cry leaves you unexpectedly as he rocks his hips against yours.

The sound of his restrained breathing against your neck is making your heart skip beats. The stinging stretch of your core begins to settle into pleasure and you swear you can feel every single inch of his heat radiating inside you.

“I’m trying to take it easy on you little blaze,” he pants out.

“Don’t.” Straining your hips, you push against him urging him to move. “Take what you need, Eris. Please.”

The moaning want of your plea does him in. Rocking his hips once more against you, he pulls back fully. The loss of his heat and the emptiness has you digging your nails into the back of his arms. Before you can take another breath he slams into you and begins a steady pace.

“You like when I take you, sweetheart?” With a swift movement, his arm dives under one of your thighs and brings it up pressing your knee toward your chest. His thrusting doesn’t skip a beat. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

You cry out a moan at the change of angle and the friction against your still sensitive bud. His cock drives deeper into you, hitting that perfect spot inside that causes your vision to dim around the edges.

“Are you going to come again for me princess? Give me one more. I know you can.”

The tightening in your belly feels like a band stretched to its max and yet it keeps pulling and pulling and pulling. Your breathing is nothing but short pants now and the blackness in your vision begins to close in.

Sensing your overworked breathing, Eris slows his pace slightly, turning his forceful thrusts into a sliding drag.

“Stay with me, little blaze. Keep breathing.”

Your breaths slow enough to force the air into your lungs and the blackness recedes, but the band in your belly remains taut threatening to snap at any moment.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

With your sense fully intact again, you grip his arms harder, nearly drawing blood on his biceps.

“Eris, I – I’m going —”

“Come with me,” he commands. His own breathing skips into an erratic rhythm. “Come on my cock as I fill you up.”

You feel the fluttering pulse of your orgasm beginning and Eris groans your name against your temple. That’s all it takes to send you over the precipice. Your legs swing over his hips and your ankles lock over him as the crest of your pleasure crashes over you. Just a few thrusts more and Eris is following you over the edge. You swear you can feel every hot pulse of his release as he empties himself inside you, roaring your name like a chant.

His languid body remains on top of you as your legs fall from his back, both of you relishing in the aftermath of your pleasure. Slowly, you bring a hand to his head, scrubbing your nails at his scalp.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“Perfect,” he mumbles into the side of your neck.

With a smile you think to yourself that maybe this day wasn’t so terrible after all.

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domnamewoman · 1 year ago

Note

what would shang tsung, syzoth, smoke and rain be like with a gn!witch? who do spell with more natural things, like crystal, herbs, etc... imagine them being like "I found this little rock, maybe you'd like it" and their s/o picks it up like it's a goblin lol. I love your work, u are amazing 🌟

Characters: Rain, Shang Tsung, Reptile, Smoke

Warnings: Witch!GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

“Can you hand me the duck feathers?” You ask, reaching out your hand to Syzoth.

Syzoth picks up the feathers from the table and walks over to you, placing them in your hand.

“Thank you.” You grab the feathers and stir them into the brewing elixir.

“It amazes me that all these random ingredients can be mixed together to create magic,” Syzoth says in wonderment.

“It’s not so much the ingredients than it is the intention of the person mixing them.”

“Hmm, so the real power comes from you,” Syzoth contemplates as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, I guess in a way.” You nod, “But I can’t enchant someone without them being exposed to the potion in some way.”

“You seemed to do a pretty good job of enchanting me,” Syzoth mumbles into your cheek as he places a kiss there, “Making me fall for you.”

“You are so cheesy,” You grumble, loving every part of it.

“I think I might pass out…” Zeffeero pants as he hovers over the toilet.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You apologize as you rub comforting circles on his back.

“Why”–heave–”Why would you even need a p-potion that induces vomiting?”

“It can be useful to demobilize an enemy during a fight,” You reason sympathetically.

“Except I’m not an enemy who's trying to fig-” Zeffeero gets cut off by more contents getting expelled from his stomach.

“I mean it is kind of your fault. Why would you drink a random liquid you haven’t seen before?”

Zeffeero turns his head to you and glares, “M-My fault? I was thirsty. Why was your potion in the refrigerator?”

“The ingredients had to be cold in order to fuse together properly,” You sigh as Zeffeero is hit with another bought of vomiting, “Okay, I should have labeled it. I’m sorry.”

“H-How long is it s-supposed to last?” Zeffeero pants out.

You cringe, “Two hours…”

“Two hours!?”

Shang Tsung stares at the potion you were brewing with repulsion. He leans over and takes a sniff before quickly covering his nose and holding back a gag.

“You know, I would be most delighted to teach you my sorcery. It is more sophisticated than creating vile concoctions like this.”

“Oh shush, there is more than one way to do magic, Shang. This is mine,” You say as you add five drops of toad’s blood to the cauldron.

“It’s tedious and ineffective in an emergency. You have to spend time brewing potions and then have someone consume it for it to work,” Shang Tsung argues.

“They don’t have to consume it, I can also put it in a bottle and throw it at them like a Molotov. Also, making potions isn’t tedious, I actually find it rather relaxing.”

“What could be relaxing about this horrid smell?”

You roll your eyes before turning to Shang Tsung and raising an eyebrow, “Well if your sorcery is so sophisticated, why don’t you zap away the smell?”

You and Shang Tsung stare at each other, your smile growing by the second. Shang Tsung pompously waves his hand before turning around and walking away.

“I thought so,” you chuckle as you turn back to your potion.

You’re standing in your spell room, organizing your crystals and taking stock of potion supplies when Tomas excitedly bursts through the door.

“Baby, I got you something,” Tomas sings as he walks up to you with his hands behind his back.

“What is it?” You excitedly inquire as you try to peek around him.

“Something almost as beautiful as you.”

“Show me already,” You impatiently demand.

“Ta-da!” Says Tomas as he brings his hands in front of him and extends his fingers to reveal a rainbow-colored crystal sitting in his palms.

“Oh my gosh, Tomas-”

“It’s pretty isn’t it? I knew you would lov-”

“No, it’s dangerous.” You snatch it out of his hand and jog to the front door, throwing it as far as you can away from the house. “That is a lifeforce-draining crystal.”

“I-I just thought it was a pretty rock… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head lovingly at Tomas as you comfortingly rub his arm, “I appreciate the thought, anyway. Just leave the crystal scavenging to me.”

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung #reptile x reader #syzoth x reader #syzoth #rain x reader #zeffeero x reader #zeffeero #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #mk1 #mk #reaction #mortal kombat reaction #witch!reader

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sincerelymina · 4 months ago

Text

shades of cool

content ꒰ 4.0k ꒱ damnation leon x female reader. unrequited love. slight age difference if ya nasty. hard angst. hurt/no comfort. mild smut (p in v). very very toxic behavior from leon. you just want to be loved. leon couldn't care less—but there's a catch. he says the thing !! could also be interchangeable with vendetta leon. not proofread. author's note shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for the endless support & help !! be sure to check her stuff out as well, they're a godsend. i listened to a weird mix of lana del rey and jeff buckley while writing this, so do with that what you will. reblogs & comments are highly appreciated !! ꣑ৎ

moonlight pours in through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the embrace of your bedroom. every night slowly began to feel longer than the last, sleep eluding you despite the exhaustion that lingered in your bones. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of leon's absence pressing heavily onto your chest. nine days of unrelenting radio silence.

you missed the comfort of his presence, the rough kisses he'd leave on your soft lips, the sweet nothings he'd coo into your ears as he thrusted in & out of you like his life depended upon it.

the darkness whispers into the tiny room, enticing your doubts and fears, weaving them into the delicate fabric of your thoughts. maybe he ran into ada. despite the sour taste the theory left behind, it made sense, much to your dismay.

you had nothing on her. how could a tough agent, known to be quick on her feet, be so naïve to think that leon truly was over the woman in red—did you seriously think he was in love with you now? it was pitiful by all means.

whatever you had going on with the man, it was anything but love. sure, you might've been so utterly transfixed by the man, enough to the point where you always at his beck and call. but he surely didn't feel as strongly towards you. you were just easy, so pliable in his calloused hands. leon was a cruel, broken man that simply took what he wanted and left you with nothing.

yet still, you'd be waiting for him with open arms—and legs.

you were like a moth, irresistibly drawn to a flame that would eventually burn you. a light that you'd always come crawling back to, even if it singed your wings.

rain pelted against your window, bathing the room in a comfortable silence, spare for the pitter-patter upon glass. it does little to quell the hollow beating of your heart, the racing thoughts in your restless mind. this week had been full of one too many sleepless nights. you just wanted to finally succumb to your exhaustion, pretend leon didn't exist just for a few hours.

but you were too damn weak. such a slave for his attention, for his "love." you'd do just about anything for the older man's approval. everything about your self-worth was based upon those icy blues. not even the desire to sleep could surpass the desperation for him.

leon's shoulders sagged as fatigue coursed through his blood, hot and heavy. rain splatters against the bottoms of his dark blue jeans, his motorcycle coming to a halt in front of your apartment complex. with a smooth twist of the throttle and a gentle squeeze of the brakes, the tires skid against the gravel, followed by the rumble of the engine fading into a soft purr.

his brown hair was sodden with water droplets, the strands sticking to his forehead. a sharp sigh left the expanse of his lungs as he swung his leg over the seat and dismounted from his bike. just his luck, leon thought with a grimace, that a storm hit mid-ride.

as he walked through the lobby, heading straight for the elevator, leon silently wondered what the hell he was doing. a part of him felt unbelievably guilty for taking advantage of your feelings like this, always expecting you to allow him into your place, even on a whim like this. especially after not bothering to send a single text to you for well over a week.

the pad of his thumb pushes the button, the elevator doors splitting open. leon pushes any feelings of shame to the far back of his mind, focusing on the main task at hand—sex. that's all this was to him after all. he couldn't be bothered with commitment.

years of slaving away for the government had etched a weariness into his bones, leaving him a hollow shell of who he once was. one whose heart, that once yearned for love—similar, if not identical, to the kind you felt for him—now laid dormant beneath a shroud of emotional detachment.

that kept the guilt that wrapped around his heart at bay, a poor excuse for how he treated you.

a few moments pass before the elevator's doors slide open with a soft hum. leon steps out, finding his way to your place as if it were second nature, which at this point, it was safe to say it was. his muscles memorized the entire way, every twist and turn. soon enough, he was right at your doorstep, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

a knock against the front door shattered the silence that encased your apartment, the sound of someone's fist rapping against the wood rippling through the quiet atmosphere. it causes you to jerk upwards, afraid of who might be waiting at the door at two in the fucking morning. it couldn't be leon, he was the last person you expected—then again, him showing up on a whim wasn't a foreign notion between the two of you.

expecting the worst, you kick the comforter off your body, allowing it to cascade to the ground as you carefully step outside your bedroom. swiping your handgun off the kitchen counter—because of course, you'd carelessly left it there—you then pad down the threshold, one foot in front of the other.

the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door isn't lost on leon, to which he furrowed his brows, wondering why you were taking your sweet time heading towards it. "it's me," he says gruffly, the deep baritone reverberating off of the hallway's walls.

you could recognize that voice from a mile away, unfortunately. your heart thumped in the confines of your chest, beating erratically at the knowledge of who was behind that door. you swallow hard, hand hovering over the cool metal of the knob before turning it slowly, revealing the man you had been longing to see.

remnants of the pouring rain outside glistened on his worn leather jacket as leon stood stiffly in the doorway, with a sullen yet exhausted expression sewn between his features. droplets clung to his hair, tracing rivulets down his face like tears mingling with the dark circles beneath his eyes. icy blues pierce through your own. he was so gorgeous, it physically pained you.

he was actually here, at your doorstep, in the flesh.

a puzzled look finds its way onto your face, mingling with the tiredness in your eyes. in disbelief, you mutter, "leon?"

"can i come in?" leon asks, not giving you any context as to why he just showed up after days of no communication. his eyes rake over you, taking in your appearance—tousled hair, thin tank top and shorts, sluggish demeanor. you looked so pretty in the dim light.

"it's two am." you say matter-of-factly, eyes now glued to the floor.

his jaw clenches, biting his tongue to hold back a snarky remark you didn't deserve. hell, you should've just slammed the door on his face, without a single word, and he would have no right to be angry at you about it.

so, leon resorts to simply inquiring, "is that a no?"

"not exactly," your voice was subdued, weak. should you let him inside? you mull over the thought, letting it ripple through your mind, like a pebble dropped in a pond. despite your better judgment, you step aside, letting him walk past you and into your humble abode. he mutters a quiet thanks as he shrugs his jacket off.

the living room held its breath along with the two of you, the air thick with unspoken words. the silence stretched like a taut wire, vibrating with the weight of your incessant thoughts. with a heavy sigh, leon collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. you hate how he's acting as if everything between the two of you was normal, like he hadn't been deliberately ignoring you for days.

"so…" you break the stillness, unable to take it anymore. "are you just going to pretend everything is okay, like you haven't been ignoring every single one of my calls?" despite how fragile you sounded, your misery was clear as day.

"here we go," leon grumbles to himself, still audible enough for you to hear. "listen, i was busy, okay?" his tone goes shifted from quiet to frustrated, refusing to look you in the eyes as you tentatively stood a few feet away from him.

bitterly, he adds, "and i'm not obligated to. i'm not your little boyfriend. how many times do i have to remind you?" sure, it might've been common courtesy, but leon was stretched thin tonight, leaving you demurred and him unbothered.

"i'm sorry," you sigh pathetically, feeling helpless.

but instead of easing his nerves, your apology only further agitates him, "oh, now you're gonna go all pouty baby on me? give me a break." leon hisses, each word a stab to the heart. "jesus, you're hopeless." his eyes meet yours again, only this time with displeasure glimmering solemnly.

desperate for a shred of salvation, you clung to what little self respect you had left in your bones, determined to salvage any dignity you still possessed after all this.

your brows knit in frustration, retorting back just as harshly, "you're the one who keeps showing up at ungodly hours, always expecting me to bend to your fucking will. you never call, never text, unless i do first, yet always expect me to welcome you in."

your fists clench, fingernails digging crescents into your palms. you couldn't stand it anymore, being his bitch, always so compliant, so understanding of his random bursts of insensitivity. you could just tell that deep down, he knew this meant more to you, giving him all the more reason to keep coming back—it didn't help that you were really pretty too. he was blatantly taking advantage of your love, and with zero remorse at that, as the cherry on top.

leon groans in pure frustration, eyes fluttering shut, as his head tilted backwards, "i'm too fucking tired for this shit." brown locks of hair partially obscure the side of his face, a perfect silhouette of his side profile on display—he was infuriatingly handsome. he stood up, fixing you a look that could slice through stone.

"i don't ever see you slamming the door in my face. you let me in like it's the one thing you're good at. always so fucking desperate to please someone who couldn't care less about you."

the words are crueler than he wished they'd be, regret instantly hitting him like a pile of bricks. he could say he didn't mean that all he wants, but the words flowed so seamlessly, without a single stutter or falter. it was plain as day that this was how he truly felt—the raw, unequivocal truth. once spoken, undeniably irrevocable. and you both knew this.

and it stung, like a hard slap across the face. you would've preferred for him to do that; at least the pain would've withered away far quicker than the mental anguish you were left with now. even in his fit of rage, the defeated, wide-eyed expression you donned tugged at leon's heartstrings.

uncomfortable silence lingers in the air like bad perfume. "don't look at me like that," leon mumbles softly. this wasn't how the script was supposed to unfold. you finally proved that you had some pride left in you, but he was so quick to shoot you down. everything had unraveled in the worst way possible.

his voice soft and gentle now, abandoning its previous ire. leon's mood always flipped like a light switch, annoyingly so.

"i'm sorry, doll." apologizing felt like pulling teeth, and to his dismay, it was falling upon deaf ears. leon wasn't cruel, just unbelievably damaged. and unfortunately, you happened to be the best outlet to release that misery onto. it wasn't an excuse for how awfully he treated you, but rather an explanation.

if you had half a mind you would've ended this charade long before it got to this level—for you, at least. things only seemed to be getting worse, and it was becoming more obvious that this was just a game to leon, while you were smitten.

"forget it, leon, you should just go." you say lowly.

"don't be like that." leon didn't want this trip to be a waste. "it's not my fault you're emotionally invested. i thought we made it crystal clear from the start that this wouldn't mean anything. zero commitment, zero obligations." a beat of silence passes, before he adds, "listen, if this is going to be a problem, we should stop this. now."

he could always find another girl to suit his needs. one that wouldn't cling to his leg like a lonesome child.

"i don't get it," you mumble, eyes finally meeting his. tears dew your lashline, but you wouldn't dare cry in front of him. "it's obvious that you've known for a while that i have feelings for you…" the realization finally creeps in like a cold draft through a cracked window. "you're using me?"

"using you?' he muses, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. leon has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "you women and your emotions." he chides. "how many times is it gonna take for you to get it through that pretty little head of yours? this never meant anything to me. it never will."

you bite the corner of your lip, pressing down hard, but not enough to bleed. you stood there, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, the cruel words washing over you like vehement waves, trembling hands fumbling with the hem of your shorts, as if seeking refuge from the storm of anger. no had ever made you feel this insignificant before.

leon's lips part slightly, suddenly becoming acutely aware of something you'd rather he didn't figure out. "...you thought i was going to eventually fall for you, didn't you? jesus, i didn't think you were that naïve." he laughs—the first smile he cracked tonight was at your misery. "i almost feel bad."

mr. i'm sorry. mr. i didn't mean that. mr. i'm just tired.

fighting back tears, you hiss, "just leave."

you could slap the smug look right off his face, the air of superiority that clung to him like heavy cologne being enough to piss you off. leon was well aware of the chokehold he held you in—he reaped the benefits of your feelings at every given chance. it felt good having a girl like you always at an arm's reach, spare for the times you'd get all "emotional" and "clingy" on him.

leon thinks about leaving, the mere idea pissing him off beyond belief—he rode all this way, in the pouring rain no less, just to make you feel like a piece of shit. no kisses, no sex, not even a single touch. deep down, he hated the reflection of his own bitterness that he spewed towards you. he hated how easily his words hurt you, how easily they spilled out of his mouth. this wasn't who he was, or at least, who he once was. after all, you were just a sweet girl who was irrevocably in love with him.

"fine," he ceases, concealing the anger he felt at his core—you didn't deserve anymore than what you'd already been cursed with tonight.

pathetically, you watch as he tugs his leather jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves quickly. you feel the urge to apologize bubbling up to the surface, but for what? you hadn't done anything wrong, simply stood your ground, defended what dignity you had left. he doesn't mean any of it, your mind feeds you lies, he's just hurt cut him some slack.

leon's hand lingers on the doorknob for a second too long, hesitating his next move. your eyes narrow in confusion. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him, each one feeling like a march to the executioner's chopping block.

"fuck it," leon huffs, hand abandoning the cool metal, and now seeking refuge on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours. this wasn't right, he wasn't thinking straight, clearly lost in a haze of frustration. but he couldn't help himself. you reciprocating the kiss didn't help his case either.

a soft, content hum left your lips as his mesh onto yours so seamlessly. it's anything but sweet and delicate, rather laced with hunger and raw unadulterated lust. his rough hands smooth up your stomach, your thin tank top riding up in their wake. you can feel the desperation oozing off of his lips, from the way his tongue pushes past the crack of your own lips.

you're like putty in his hands, forgetting all the spiteful things he'd just said to you, only focusing on how good this felt. he inadvertently called you his bitch—any sane person would've happily shoved him out the door, but here you were, melting into his unprompted kiss. the things you do for love.

lips still smothering yours, he mumbles, "this a good enough apology for you, doll?" his breath fans against your skin, mingling with yours as he shoves you up against the nearest wall.

"mhm," you're thinking with everything but your head, succumbing to the rush that coursed hotly through your veins. "i'm sorry," but leon shuts you up by plunging right back in. he knows you shouldn't have to apologize, but he doesn't care enough to tell you to give it a rest.

"such a sweet girl, always so understanding," he chuckles breathily. your lips were enough to calm his nerves. "i hate hurting you like this, but you just…" his tone grows solemn, but he pushes such thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing solely on making both of you feel good.

his words struck a chord in you. but you just… just what? you don't want to think too hard about it, that could be done in the morning, once your left all alone in a sea of white bedsheets. when the regret of surrendering to your self-indulgence had fully settled in.

sooner rather than later, you're sprawled out beneath leon, stripped down to nothing. a mix of both of your clothing are scattered across your bedroom floor, joining the rest of the pre-existing mess. your skin is slick with a thin layer of sweat, a testament to just how badly leon had you worked up. it's hard to muffle your breathy moans, to which he can only say:

"ah, come on. don't be shy." he teases, tilting his head while placing a sloppy kiss on your rosy lips. a sharp thrust is what finally draws out a loud moan from your lips, his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, "that's my girl."

calloused hands roam all over your soft skin, tracing your every curve, every dip, feeling you in your entirety. you hate how effortlessly he brought you to heaven, how you could feel every inch of him pumping in and out of you. seeing you like this, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted, reminded leon why he hadn't stopped seeing you yet.

the room is bathed with the sounds of your choked moans and his grunts. his name falls off your lips like its your only prayer, coupled with a slew of desperate pleas. your hands grasp onto his back for support, nails digging crescents into the skin as they drag down, leaving scratches in their wake.

his hips rolled against yours as his thrusts got messier and rougher, practically slamming in and out of you. your back arches against the memory foam of your mattress, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as you feel his tip kiss against your cervix.

"fuck, leon, don't stop," your nails dig even deeper into his skin.

"wasn't planning on it," leon groans, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock. "god, you're so perfect," another wet kiss planted upon your open lips. it's a blessing the bed hadn't given in and snapped yet.

you're seeing stars at this point, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust, pulled taut like violin strings. it's not until leon hits right there that your eyes snap open, glimmering with pleasure, earning a desperate mewl. a smirk plays on his lips. it was ironic how he could make you feel so awful, so miserable, but simultaneously brought you this.

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he grunts, hitting that same spot repeatedly, determined to make you cum all over his cock. "yeah, i bet you do. pretty thing like you doesn't deserve any less," sweat drips down his forehead, his hair sticking to it.

"i'm so close," you whimper, the mattress creaking beneath you.

"i know you are," leon takes pride in the scrunched up look of pure ecstacy on your face, white hot pleasure shooting through his own veins.

it only takes a few more thrusts before you cry out his name, mumbling a cluster of curses and pleas as you rode out your high. heaven was always a place on earth with leon—spare for the times the two of you weren't in bed.

it doesn't take long for leon to finish as well, shooting his load on your stomach, not particularly in the mood for an unwanted pregnancy from a girl he barely cared about. completely out of breath, leon sighs, rolling over to the empty spot next to you on your bed. his back falls against the mattress, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all a vehement maelstrom of regret.

i should've left he thought, eyes flitting over to you, who seemed like she was still on cloud nine. guilt pangs in his heart, no longer left in a lust-filled haze. he can only stare up at the ceiling, almost in a similar manner to the way you did only an hour earlier.

no one felt post-nut clarity like leon did.

you, on the other hand, felt like a million bucks. your chest rose and fell slowly, reeling back in after your orgasm. but nonetheless, leon's cruel words hit you like a freight train, coming back to you all at once in your state of bliss. the reality of your situation creeps in like a thief in the night.

all you are is—for lack of better words—his bitch.

as the first light of dawn kisses the horizon, the sun rises gently, painting the sky with hues of gold and rose, awakening the world in a tender embrace. left in nothing but a flimsy pair of lacy panties, you stir around in bed, eyes fluttering open as you take in your surroundings. despite the lack of sleep you got the night prior, the mere sunlight still roused you awake.

and of course, just as you anticipated, there's an empty spot right next to you. just one morning you wished to have strong arms caging you in their embrace. but no.

as long as you kept this charade up with leon, this was all you'd get.

frantically, you swipe your phone off of your nightstand—maybe he sent you a text? disappointment etches onto your face as the pad of your thumb presses the power button, only to be met with a handful of notifications, not a single one from leon.

jesus, you were hopeless.

#𐙚˖˚ mina's fics #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #resident evil damnation #resident evil x reader #i died a little writing this

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hedoublehell · 7 months ago

Text

BITE

Damien Haas x f!reader

You wake up from a dream about Damien, only to find out reality may be better than anything your imagination could come up with.

SMUT -- 18+ ONLY!!!

Warnings: p in v, oral (both male + female receiving), degradation kink (slut + whore is used a lot), praise kink, spanking, dom/sub, dom!Damien, sir/master kink

Note: this is my first fic in about 5 years, so it may be a little rusty. but i hope you all enjoy!!

Tags: @agnewbones, @pedropascallme

“You’re this wet for me already?”

Cold sweat dripped down the middle of your back outlining the edges of your spine. Reality came back as the pitch black darkness engulfed your vision, replacing the blurs of skin, purple hair, and that one smile that seemingly haunts your every moment whether you’re asleep or awake.

Fuck. Another dream about Damien.

You shifted from underneath your duvet, cold air freezing the damp spot between your legs that was not there when you originally settled in for the night. While you loved living with Damien, your body could not handle the consistent proximity of your bodies. Whenever you wanted food, he was already in the kitchen preparing something that he was going to surprise you and your fellow roommates with. If you needed to shower first thing in the morning, you would come out of your room only to hear Damien’s singing over the monotonous rain of the water pressure. Even at work, you could not shake him, often going out for coffee runs together in between shoots. The only aspect of your life that he was void from was the one that your subconscious craved him in the most.

A sigh escaped your lips as you slid up your silk sheets into a sitting position. A subtle blink of baby blue light emitted from the digital clock that rested just off to the right of your bed. 3:47 am.

The ache of need still pulsed in your core, even as real-life came creeping back in. It pounded against the inside of your thighs as the slickness of your excitement dribbled down your panties. Whatever Dream Damien did, your body wanted more, and knowing that Real Damien was only two doors away made it even worse. Thankfully the room just before his was the bathroom. A cold shower was desperately needed, no matter the time.

You stumbled out of bed, your ragged graphic tee hitting just above your waist leaving your baby pink boy shorts exposed. Considering it was 4 am, you didn’t see a reason to bring a change of clothes, or even a pair of pants, to the bathroom. It was literally the next door down the hall, and no one else should be up.

The house was eerily still, something that you weren’t used to while living with half of the Smosh cast. That, along with the fact that you were always the first one asleep, quiet was never something that you were able to fully experience. The only thing that interrupted it was the soft padding of your bare feet against the wooden floor, the coldness of it sent shivers up your shins. This silence continued until you got closer to Damien’s room.

A faint mumble of voices emitted from the other side of the door. You tiptoed closer, trying to decipher which anime he had decided to throw on as background noise. However, as quickly as you heard it, it stopped. The stillness returned.

Damien’s door swung open. His purple hair was illuminated by the fluorescents behind him, which created a lavender halo around his head. All he had on was a ratty grey undershirt and a pair of thin black and white plaid pyjama bottoms. Your eyes immediately darted to his biceps, admiring the way they flexed as he held the frame. The muscle rippled against the taut skin that encased it. Hair trailed down to his armpit, leaving speckles of black on the underside. A moan threatened to spill out of your lips at the sight, but you held it in.

“What are you doing up?” His 4 am voice was rasper than you anticipated. Genuine concern spread across his face, knotting his eyebrows.

“I- I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might have a shower to try to relax.” Which wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell wasn’t the full truth. Dream Damien’s doing ghosted your memory, the stickiness of your desire still glued between the crook of your thighs.

His eyes wandered down your frame, stopping a second longer at the heam of your shirt before continuing onto your naked thighs. Shit. Heat spread across your bare skin as his eyes fluttered across the nudeness that defined your lower half. A similar warming sensation welcomed itself across your cheeks as he returned to your face.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be up…” You trail off.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” he whispered, not daring to look away from you. “I was just watching Demon Slayer, I only got up ‘cause I had to pee. Do you want to join me before you go back to bed? Totally cool if not. I get how hard insomnia can be, though.”

Before you could stop yourself you were nodding. You knew it was a terrible idea, going into his room right after waking up gasping for him, but you didn’t care. Damien slid out from the doorway, allowing you to tiptoe into his space. Behind you he shut the door, followed by the patter of his feet descending down the hall.

Alone in Damien’s room, you were able to notice more than you ever had. The muted light of his lamp in the far corner illuminated the grey walls which were littered with posters from various projects he had worked on over the years. A television was mounted directly across from you; it was still on Netflix, but it had resorted to playing a slideshow of upcoming titles while it waited for the show to be resumed. His sheets were softer than you remember, the fabric of his duvet caressed the back of your legs as you pushed yourself up against his headboard. His Snorlax plush leaned against your torso as it reacted to the new weight on the mattress. Everything smelt like him. Everything was him.

Moments later a creak echoed throughout the space as Damien returned. Silently, he walked to his bed and let himself flop beside you. As soon as he hit the mattress, a visceral craving for skin contact twisted your gut. Whether it was from lingering lust or exhaustion, you didn’t know. However, you remained composed, your fingers interlacing with themselves in an attempt to prevent yourself from reaching out and running the tips of them along his exposed skin. As if he could hear your inner dilemma, he cleared his throat.

“Are you okay? Did you have a bad day, or a rough dream?”

Dream? Your cheeks flushed with warmth as the word came out of his mouth just above a whisper. Did he know? Your heart pounded at the thought of him hearing you moan his name in your sleep moments earlier. Flashes of Dream Damien created a mosaic of colour inside your mind as your pulse began to creep its way down to your core. Your eyes remain glued to the ceiling, afraid that if you looked at Damien it would undo you right then and there. He couldn’t know.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You manage to choke out.

Weight shifted on the mattress, Damien’s dip coming closer to yours. His hand ghosted the inside of your arm, goosebumps erecting in its wake. His fingertips stilled in the crook of your elbow, lingering for a second before Damien retracted them back and shoved them underneath his head, interlocking them with the other set. As the coldness returned to the skin, a subconscious exhale escaped your lips.

You glanced over at the purple-haired man beside you. The dull light softened his features, blurring them with the wall behind him. A 5 o’clock shadow speckled across his jawline and his chin, which emphasized the natural pout in his lips. Both the top and the bottom were baby pink and seemed extra kissable with the rest of the world asleep. A piece of dead skin hung from the top, slightly sticking beyond the rest of the pink surface. Your hands found their way to your knees and gripped them tightly, knuckles turning white. No one would have to know, right?

“Hey Damien?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you awake?”

Silence spread across the room once again. You could hear his breathing- somehow deep, yet ragged. Hesitation lingered in the air as Damien shifted in his spot, readjusting the position of his arms behind his head.

“It’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about how many takes it took me to do the intro to the new video properly. I tried so hard to be funny, but it felt like it kept on falling flat. I don’t know, maybe I had an off-day.” Damien sighs, keeping his eyes on the roof. You could feel his body tense up in fear of what your next words might be.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re the funniest person on Smosh. In fact, you’re probably the funniest person I know. It’s so fucking hard to not ruin takes when you’re around, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I promise you your humour lands. It at least does with me.” You shift down his headboard to lie down, turning onto your right to fully face Damien. A wave of his cologne hits your nose while you do so, leaving traces of pine, cherry blossom, and something spicy that you can’t quite place. The whiff of the scent subconsciously causes you to lean closer into him, in search of more. Notes of aftershave joined the mix while wetness began to dampen your panties once again, but you fought to ignore it.

His face brightened at the creation of eye contact. A smile erupted on his lips as he let himself take you in for a second. You could feel the movement of his eyes across your bare face while he attempted to memorize every detail of you, from the way sleepiness smoothed your features to the pimple patch that covered an outbreak on your cheek. Very rarely did he get to see you like this, in your most authentic form, and the sparkle that flickered in his eye let you know that he wanted to absorb every moment.

“Thank you, it means a lot to hear you say that.” He chuckled, a blush settling onto his cheeks. You reached out your hand subconsciously, letting it rest on his bare forearm. The heat of his skin seeped into yours.

“Sounds like we’re just two overthinkers tonight. I was so worried that you would’ve somehow known that I woke up because I had a dream about you.”

Panic sets in as soon as it slipped out of your lips, the hand that was resting on Damien’s arm immediately flying to cover your mouth. Fuck. Damien automatically pulled himself closer to you, his eyes darkening with an unfamiliar cloud. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“What kind of dream?” He growled into your ear.

Need shot to your cunt as Damien moved himself on top of you, one arm on each side of your frame. His knee inched between your legs, the fabric of his pyjama pants rubbing against the thin layer of cotton that covered your core. A groan fell out of your mouth.

“I think you already know the answer to that, Damien.” You purred needily. Your pulse erupted at the thought of what was about to happen— whatever it was.

“Are you okay with this?” He murmured.

For the second time within 20 minutes, you were nodding before you could give it a second thought. Desire dizzied around your thoughts and coated the space between your thighs. All you knew was that Real Damien was here and that he wanted you. That’s all you could ever need.

However, he didn’t move. You were pinned between his two arms, his biceps brushing against yours, sending electricity down your spine. His eyes seemed to consume you as he took you in, letting himself fully linger on the tightness of the grey shirt around your breasts before lowering his gaze to your baby pink boy shorts.

“Tell me about your dream. Please.” He whined, want dripping in each syllable of his ask.

“Y-you and I were fucking, Damien,” you groaned, “you had me on a table, legs open and I was dripping. So wet. So wet for you. I needed- no- need, you. Please.”

Your legs wrapped around the knee that rested between them, attempting to gain any form of friction, any form of relief. Damien sat up, shooting his hands around your thighs to prevent you from getting any satisfaction. He shook his head, eyes darkening even further.

“Not yet, needy girl. I need to know more. I want to know exactly how you imagined it. Don’t you want your dreams to come true?” He cooed, his mouth curled into a smirk. Your eyes widened as you became delirious with excitement at the fact that Damien was in front of you- that he wanted you just as bad as you’ve been craving him.

”I don’t remember a lot, but- but you were fingering me. God, they were so filling. I was naked, marks everywhere on my chest from your lips. I woke up needing you more than I have ever needed anything, please. Please, Damien.” You whined, jutting your lower lip out. Damien’s eyes remained locked with yours as he leaned in closer, his hands dragging up your thighs.

“Don’t you want to see a man up close?” He whispered, his breath dancing along the nape of your neck.

All you managed to get out was a “please ki-,” before Damien’s lips were against yours, devouring every inch of your mouth. Hints of toothpaste and mouthwash lingered on your tastebuds with every swipe of his tongue. His hands moved from your thighs to your shoulders, gently pushing you to lay down while he remained on top of you. He shifted around, moving his knees on either side of your legs. The hardness of his growing cock grazed against your inner thigh, causing wetness to begin to re-dampen the spot that Dream Damien left.

The new position allowed him to let his lips explore, a trail of kisses left along your neck in his wake. Once he hit your collarbone, he began to suck ever so slightly. His teeth nipped at your skin, leaving a light purple mark in the middle of the skin stretched around the bone. A breathy moan escaped your lips as he sucked a new spot at the crook of your neck. Your fingers laced into his purple locks, gently tugging at them. In response, he looked up, concern painted across his face.

“Are you okay, am I being too rough?” He said, frozen in place. You shook your head.

“I promise I’m fine,” you breathed, “I just- please. Please use me, Damien. I need you to fuck me, use me like a toy. Let me make you feel good.”

Darkness returned to his eyes immediately at the sound of your begging. His hands shot to the hem of your shirt while you arched your back, helping him take it off of you.

“Oh my poor little thing,” he cooed while bending down to lick a stripe between your tits. “You need my cock more than you want to admit, don’t you?”

Want surged through your core at the sound of his raspy voice mentioning the thing you’ve been wanting. You nodded, shivering at the thought. Gently he raised your ass, letting you shimmy out of your underwear. Wetness coated the inside of your thighs, droplets hitting the mattress underneath you as the cold air hit your cunt. Damien’s fingers tiptoed down your stomach, landing right above the dip towards your pussy. His other hand grabbed hold of your chin, jerking it toward him.

“Say please,” Damien barked.

“Please. Pl—”

His middle and ring finger plunged into your cunt. You let out a yelp at the sudden fullness. Slowly, he rocked them back and forth, letting the tips of his fingers brush against the spongy spot at your core. Moans spilled out of you as your fingers dug into his shoulders. As fast as it had started, he pulled his digits out of you, leaving you stretched and wanting more. A frown knotted your eyebrows in frustration while Damien was on the other side of the emotional spectrum, excitement lighting his features as he inspected his two fingers.

“You’re this wet for me already?” He groaned, bringing his ring finger into his mouth and twirling his tongue around it, attempting to get every speck of your sweetness onto his taste buds.

You squirmed in response, your eyes stuck to his digits in his mouth. Hearing Real Damien say the only words you remember from your dream overwhelmed your senses– this was a dream coming true.

He hollowed his cheeks against them, moaning as the tanginess of your desire flooded his tongue. After thoroughly sucking on them, he slipped them out of his mouth, creating a V shape with them. Bringing them back to his lips, his tongue darted out, tasting the last bits of you between his fingers. A hum of satisfaction escaped his lips as he looked up mid-swipe, catching you stare, mouth agape.

“You like what you see, baby? You like watching me suck your juices off of my fingers?” He smiled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes sir,” you whispered, unable to look away from the man in front of you.

Nothing else seemed to matter but the way his every motion affected your heart rate. All you wanted was him, any and all of him that he gave to you. Damien leaned down again, pressing kisses to your mound.

“You’re not the only one who dreamed of this,” he muttered between nibbles, “I’ve been dreaming about having you since you moved in. Finding you not only outside of my room at 4am, but half-naked outside of my room at 4am almost made me to cum on the spot, baby.” He pushed your thighs apart before he dropped to kiss the inside of each, gently sucking up the stickiness that lined them. “I’ll worship this pussy as long as you let me. God knows how badly I’ve been needing it.”

His words shot straight to your cunt right as he dove in, parting your lips to connect his tongue with your clit. He slowly began swirling it around the spot, sending shockwaves down your spine. Curses spilled from your lips as he picked up the pace, your hands resuming their grip on his purple hair. Two fingers nudged at your entrance, still damp from the combination of your want and Damien’s saliva. He easily slid them in before starting to pump them in and out, matching the pace of his mouth. His digits hit the spot that you desperately craved, destroying the last bit of self-preservation that you had within you. Your walls tightened around them, desperately trying to get every inch of satisfaction possible from his mouth and hands. Nonsensical strings of words tumbled out of the slight part of your lips as the familiar swirl of pleasure circled around your core. Tiny sparks began to electrocute your clit with each flick of Damien’s tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. However, as soon as your orgasm was about to spill, his fingers and lips were gone.

“You don’t think I’m really going to let you cum this fast, do you baby?” He smirked. “I’m not even undressed yet, and here you are, whimpering for my touch like the whore you are.”

Your hands moved from his hair, letting him stretch straight up from between your legs. Your fingers reached for the hem of his tanktop at once, trying to get the fabric off of his torso. Damien took the hint and tugged each strap of the shirt before yanking it over his head and throwing it behind him onto the wooden floor. Without thinking, a gasp exited you. You’d seen Damien shirtless many times, whether in the dressing room or while grabbing your morning coffee from the kitchen, but this was different. Specks of black hair sprinkled his chest, concentrating in the middle of his two pecs. Lust surged through your veins as you devoured the sight in front of you, taking in every inch of Damien. Never had you seen a man be so easily beautiful, and it nauseated you how badly your body ached for him.

Without breaking eye contact, Damien shuffled to the end of the bed. His thumbs dipped underneath the waistband of his pyjama pants and pushed them down to the floor, taking his boxers with them.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled, your eyes surging down to the new part of him exposed.

His cock stuck out from between his legs, the tip of it glistening with excitement. All you could think about was how to get it between your legs as fast as possible, and how its girth would fill you so perfectly.

“Damien, I need it. Pl-please sir.” You whined, glancing back up at his face.

He stumbled back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot between your thighs. However, this time he remained sitting. His shaft rested on your lower stomach, causing your mind to short circuit with how close it was to where you had dreamed of it being for months. Heart pounding, you reached out, letting the tip of your index finger brush against the head. He visibly shivered in response, goosebumps spreading down his arms as a tinge of pleasure shot down his shaft.

“I know you can touch my cock better than that, baby girl. Don’t be afraid.” Damien grunted, his eyes slightly closed in anticipation. Without a second thought, you sat up and spit in your hands. Greedily you grabbed his cock, fisting it. Your hands glided over the smooth, taut skin in a steady motion, occasionally flicking the tip with your thumb. A melody of grunts dripped from Damien’s lips as his hips matched your rhythm.

Slowly you leaned forward, lining up your mouth with his shaft. You darted your tongue out between your lips, gingerly flattening it against the tip.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, pulling back.

“God, yes.” Damien interlaced his fingers in your hair, encouraging you to continue what you had started.

Eagerly you wrapped your mouth around his shaft, hollowing your cheeks around it after it hit the back of your throat. You pushed it back out with a pop, a strand of drool attaching his head to your bottom lip. A smile crept onto your lips momentarily. This was not a dream, this was real. Damien’s cock was twitching with desire for you, nobody else. He was muttering your name under his breath as you licked a line from the base of his shaft to the very tip. Paying extra attention to the sensitive strip of skin at the connection point between the base and the head, you traced every inch of his cock with your tongue before returning it to the inside of your mouth.

“You’re doing so good, baby. What a good little whore you are.” He sighed, grinding his hips into your face.

Lightheaded with happiness, you gulped up the salty pre-cum that was dripping out of Damien’s cock. Momentarily forgetting about your own pleasure, all you could fathom was the feeling of his erection in your mouth and how pornographic the slurps were as you took as much of him as you could with each of his thrusts. Your cunt leaked with heat while you glanced up at Damien to see him slack-jawed, his eyes stuck on how your tits bounced in sync with his pushes. If you could frame moments, this would be your first choice.

Damien pulled his cock out of your reach, rotating his hips away from your mouth.

“I think your pussy deserves to be used properly now, do you?” He asked, putting his hands under your armpits and shoving you back onto the bed behind you.

“Yes, sir! I promise I-I’ve been so good,” You begged, subconsciously spreading your legs as you settled into the far side of the bed.

Damien reached out with his right hand, letting it caress your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes while excitement, desire, and anticipation danced through your mind. Damien leaned over to your left, fidgeting through his nightstand to find a tinfoil packet. He held the corner with his teeth and used his index and thumb to rip it open. Returning to the bed, Damien kneeled directly in front of you, lining up the condom with his cock. Slowly, he began to roll it on, letting the latex surround his stiffened shaft.

“L-lemme help, sir. I can help.” Your hand reached out, brushing his knuckles with the tip of your middle finger. With his free hand, he swatted your attempt at help away.

“I don’t think so, baby. Master can handle it himself,” he chuckled, finishing the job.

Leisurely, he thrust the tip of his cock into your cunt. With every centimetre of him, your brain flooded with fog, nothing else seemed to matter but the way his cock fit so perfectly inside, as if you were made to please him. Each muscle in your abdomen adjusted to the welcomed fullness that came with Damien, the pressure of satisfaction immediately building as he situated himself in you.

A deep groan erupted from Damien as he flicked his hips back, fully taking his shaft out. As soon as the tip exited, he slammed his cock back in, letting himself bottom out in your pussy.

“Fuck- Damien!” You cried. A pleasurable pain rippled through your cervix, sending shockwaves to your clit. Damien’s right-hand shot to your mouth, cupping it over your lips.

“You have to be quiet, whore. We can’t wake up the whole house with the noises you make while I fuck you.”

His words shot right to your core, your whimpers muffled by the palm of his hand. Saltiness flowed down your cheeks as Damien continued to push and pull himself fully in and out of your heat. His presence was simply overstimulating, and all you wanted was more. The way his chest heaved as he plowed you was memorizing, its rhythm matched his thrusts inside you. Your fingers found their way to his ass, squeezing it tightly as he plummeted into your pussy. His shaft pushed deeper in response to your movements, causing both of you to hiss in satisfaction.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, baby. Fit me so perfectly.” Damien growled, throwing his head back, eyes glazing over.

The vibrations of his voice darted to your clit, increasing the speed of your demise. The stubble of his pubes rubbed against your sweet spot, hitting it at a perfect angle. Damien’s hands wandered to your tits, giving your nipples gentle squeezes with his middle and thumb before rolling them. Mumbles of his title repeatedly spilled from your lips as you arched your back, letting his cock reach the soft spot inside. Sparks flashed in your vision while you came crashing down. Your cunt pulsed around Damien’s cock, extracting every ounce of pleasure from his force. Simultaneously, nothingness spread throughout your mind as you rode out your orgasm– the only thing that grounded you were the whines of pleasure escaping the man fucking you into oblivion.

As you came back to reality, the only thing that you managed to get out was “more.”

Without letting his cock leave your dripping pussy Damien immediately grabbed your waist, flipping you onto your stomach. With one hand he shoved your face into his mattress, the other looping around your hips to arch your back.

“Good girl, knowing we’ve only just started.” His breath tickled your cheek, causing you to tremble. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

Without warning, his cock nestled deeper into your aching heat before fucking you with fervour. The mattress underneath squeaked with each rapid thrust, harmonizing with the slapping of skin against skin. Loudness no longer seemed to be an issue as Damien slapped your ass, the noise echoing throughout his bedroom. He continued to rub the reddened spot, circling the rough skin with the pad of his thumb. Your brain shortcircuited with each jolt of his cock, the way it was still managing to stretch you was all you could focus on.

“S-so good, sir. Know how to fuck me so good. Love your cock.”

With another smack on your behind he bowed down, his head now behind yours.

“I know, ” he kissed your hair before tangling his fingers in it, pulling your head to become parallel with his. “Needed it so bad you couldn’t go a night without dreaming about how well I’d feel, huh? You’re that much of a greedy slut?”

A whine fell from your lips as you brought your eyes to his. Through your lashes, you could see a wild smile painted across his lips, happiness radiating from his dilated pupils. Never had you seen a man look so beautiful while doing something so inherently filthy, and your cunt throbbed at the realization of it all.

“I can’t be-believe this is real. I’ve been wanting this so bad, Damien.” More tears dampened your cheeks, the familiar tightness in your core forming once again.

In response, Damien leaned down, sloppily pressing his lips to yours. A mixture of saliva, spit, and tears smeared across your chin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue rushing out to collect traces of the salty combination. Damien’s free hand wandered down to the front of you, pressing his index finger to your sweet spot.

Sobs fell out of you between each breath while a woozy wave of lust swept over you. The rewarding drop of the pit in your stomach broke through the dizziness. Deepening the arch in your back, the swirling sensation in your clit hit its breaking point. Your hands gripped the sheets in front of you in a frenzy as gratification washed over you. The walls of your pussy clenched around Damien’s shaft, the pulse of his cock hitting your g-spot as your body convulsed.

“You’re such a good slut for your master, baby. G-gonna make me cum.”

As your orgasm fizzled out, Damien continued to haphazardly rock himself in and out of your aching heat. Overstimulation stung your core, but you pushed it aside. The only thing that would stop you from riding this out would be if the world ended. All that existed at this moment was Damien, who was behind you, smacking his hips into yours as he chased his high. His grunts filled the empty air between you. With one last nudge, a rush of warmth spread through your cunt as Damien cried out in relief. His head hit the middle of your back as he crumpled, letting his orgasm take over.

“Jesus, that was amazing.” He whispered, pulling out of you. Your pussy ached with both fulfillment and emptiness as you adjusted to the lack of him.

You rotated onto your back, craving the view of Damien’s post-O face. He looked hazy, a dopey grin plastered to his face as he gently pulled the condom off before tying it and placing it on his nightstand. Immediately he reached down to you, enveloping you in his arms as he lay beside you. His scent had slightly altered from when you first entered his room, the smell of sex and sweat now intertwining with the notes of his cologne. If you could bottle that, you would without hesitation.

“Thank you so much, really,” you smiled. “It wasn’t my intention to have this happen when I walked by your room, but I’m glad it did.”

Damien placed a soft kiss on your lips. Unlike the previous ones you had shared, this one had a pureness to it. Your heart jumped a beat at the romantic undertones as the moment overtook you completely. Your head buzzed with contentment as the past 45 minutes settled in your brain.

“Me too, baby,” he mumbled against your lips. “I hope I made your dreams come true.”

“You did, I promise,” you giggled, “but now I definitely need to shower.”

#damien #damien haas #smosh #damien haas fan fiction #damien haas smut #smosh rpf #damien haas rpf #damien haas oneshot #damien haas one shot #smoshblr #rpf #smosh fic #smosh fanfiction #smoshblr fic

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mojogojocasahouse · 1 year ago

Text

A Quick Detour

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Gojo forgot something before heading to Jujutsu Tech and stops home at lunch to find you in nothing but his hoodie.

Words: 2.3k

Content: NSFW, established relationship, unprotected p in v, creampie, minor choking

18+ ONLY

The leaves rustle on the branches as Satoru Gojo shoves the car door open. An overcast sky waits outside, the threat of rain imminent as the screen of his door beckons him even from across the sidewalk. It had been hard enough leaving that morning, his alarm going off too early, the room too cold once he’d left the warmth of the bed, not even his morning coffee had warmed the pit of ice that had settled in his stomach. And in his frustration, he’d left something on the kitchen counter.

“Keep it running,” he barks at the man behind the wheel, the always dependable Ijichi, “I’ll be in and out.”

“That’s what you said last time…” the driver mumbles under his breath, causing the corner of Gojo’s mouth to tick up into a smirk as he steps out into the brisk air, “What did you forget this time?”

It’s his wallet he’s gone back to retrieve, but he leaves without a word, simply chuckling at the question and his own refusal to answer it. The cold air hits him like a wall, a shiver going down his spine at the abrupt change in temperature as long strides pull him closer and closer to sanctuary.

“Baby!” he calls as he shuts the door behind him, “Baby?! Are you home?”

He’d left you wrapped in the sheets still blissfully asleep hours ago, his fingers are still craving the heat of your skin even now as he waits for your response. But none came. As he sighs, he considers detouring this outing further and checking if you’ve gone to grab lunch at any of your favorite spots in town, that sounds better than listening to whatever Yaga has to say before sending the students out on missions. They’d rather go to the beach despite the cold, he’d heard them making plans earlier, and he’s already dreading bursting their bubble upon his arrival back at the school.

“Kitchen…” he hums to himself quietly, “Wallet’s in the kitch—“

The sight greeting him forces his little song back down his throat. You’re at the kitchen counter, hips swaying to whatever song is playing on the bulky headphones Megumi had gotten you for Christmas last year, the hem of his hoodie from last night brushing against the middle of your thighs. The soft, purple fabric is draped loosely around your smaller frame, it’s practically drowning you in its warmth as you cut what looks to be a pile of strawberries. He wonders if it still smells like him, if his cologne is still lingering in the threads, and if that’s why you’d opted to toss it on this morning when you woke up alone. Do you have anything on underneath? Or was it just the small reminder of him shielding you from the cold?

You still have no idea he’s there, obliviously singing softly along with your song as you continue your task, and when the initial shock wears off he closes the distance. As his arms wrap around your middle and his chin slides over your shoulder you don’t even flinch, you know it’s him from the first gentle brush of his fingertips, or maybe his smell. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care, he’s simply smitten with the way the corner of your mouth ticks up into a knowing smirk as you press back into the curve of his tall body behind you.

“You finally realized,” you tease as he pulls the headphones off your ears, tossing them onto the counter, “Took longer than usual.”

All he can do is hum in response as his mouth is drawn to the sweet stretch of your throat, his lips craving the taste of your skin so tauntingly on display. His cock is already aching at the first swipe of his tongue, the plush of your ass pressing down on what he knows you can feel growing stiff beneath his uniform slacks. His stomach grows heavier as he inhales the blend of your shampoo and what lingers of himself on the sweater; you’re being swaddled by him, you want him even when he’s not there, and the feeling is so foreign and so raw his eyes burn until he’s able to squash down the overwhelming surge of fucking love he has for you. You choose him every day, and at times he feels like he takes that for granted.

“Did you drive yourself?” you ask as you shift slightly, forcing his gaze up to find your eyes sparkling in the kitchen lights.

“No,” he grunts, he doesn’t feel like talking.

“So rude of you to keep poor Ijichi waiting.”

But you don’t mean that. Well, maybe you know it’s rude, but it stops you just as much as Satoru at this moment. His bangs fall into his face as you pull off his blindfold, tossing the black cloth onto the floor without a care in the world as you watch the galaxies of infinity swirl in crystal blue. The way you look at him makes his knees buckle, and on his way down he captures your lips with his.

There’s nothing tentative about it, he's prodding at the seam of your mouth after the first panicked press, the way you open so willingly sending another jolt south. It’s been maybe twelve hours since the last time he was buried inside you, but it doesn’t matter, before his breath had even regulated and the sweat rolling down his chest had dried he’d already been dreaming of the next chance he’d have. And it’s here a few hours earlier than he expected.

“I like your shirt,” he sighs while slipping his hand into the front pocket, “Gimme one.”

With perfect coordination, he locks his lips around your fingers delivering his requested strawberry, his tongue wrapping around to accept it, and presses the heel of his palm between your thighs. You melt back against him with a pathetic whimper, and he knows it’s not from his haphazard touch, it’s just the thought of what’s to come fueling the goosebumps erupting on your skin.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks, taunting you with mundane questions as you begin to drag yourself over his hand.

“It’s…” the words are catching in your throat, “It’s your turn to…to cook.”

“Oh, that’s right. And you want negimaki.”

“Mmm.”

“Is that a yes?”

All you can do is frantically nod. He can feel your chest heaving, and a wicked grin stretches across his face.

“And what else?” he continues to taunt, and you groan at his little game, attempting to distract him with a kiss that he returns chastely before upping the ante.

Your nipples are pebbling even in the heat trapped between your body and the fleece fabric, his fingers alternating between them rolling and pinching. A sheen of sweat is already covering your skin, you're gripping his forearm tight enough that he curses his uniform sleeve for denying him the gift of the half-moons your fingernails would decorate his skin with.

“Please, Toru,” you beg, and he can’t deny you. Not with that tone.

As much as he wants to take you right here against the kitchen counter where he can watch your ass ripple with the force of his thrusts, he can’t bear the thought of not feeling your thighs wrapping around him, holding him close, trapping him in the reality he’d never leave if he had the choice. With one arm he carries you to the bed, gently plopping you onto the rumpled sheets with ease.

“I’ll hold on to these,” he jokes, setting your damp black panties over his head, replacing the cover over his eyes you’d flippantly thrown earlier.

The way you giggle at his juvenile tactics and jokes makes his heart swell. Never had the words “grow up” ever passed your lips, you’d always just accepted him for exactly who he was. He was living his life in reverse, enjoying the freedom that being the strongest gave after giving up his younger years to become the best, and you never expected anything more of him.

He wants to bury his face between your thighs, he craves the sweet symphony that coats your skin on his tongue, but it should wait until tonight when he can give the task the attention it deserves. You’re sprawled on the bed, gazing at him standing at the edge with a lust-blown stare, legs spread so invitingly his hand shoots to his belt on nothing but instinct. All he can feel is the undeniable pressure bearing down on his stomach and the relief of pulling this throbbing cock free of its confines, your lower lip dragging through your teeth enough to have him whining in anticipation.

“Shit, baby,” he sighs, dragging the head of his dick through your soaked folds, stopping to rub slow circles on your clit, “Fucking soaked.”

“Need you,” you plead, wiggling your hips enough to have him notched at your entrance, “Please.”

There’s no denying you no matter the ask, but certainly not now. In one fluid movement, he sinks into your wet heat, tossing his head back in bliss at the warm, tight grip of your velvety walls. He has to stop and feel your cunt fluttering around him as you adjust to his size, his hands gripping your hips beneath the hoodie hard enough to bruise. His thrusts are shallow, the contact more important than friction as he withdraws and pushes back in, tugging and pushing your body along with his movements.

Quivering breaths and choked whines fill the room, his hair is beginning to stick to his temples while his knees buckle as you throttle him, his strokes finding that soft patch deep inside of you. Subdued mewling turns to wanton cries with every slap of his hips against yours, your hands reaching for any part of him they can grip. He gives you what you really want, crawling onto the bed and curling his long torso around you, your mouth finding him with greedy haste.

His throat is lavished first after you wrench open his high collar so hard he swears the zipper breaks, your teeth grazing over his pulse before you decorate his alabaster skin with bursts of red and purple. The way he’s pushed you up the mattress has your head pocketed in the hood of the sweater, a stark reminder of how the sight of you in the kitchen had spurred him beyond comprehension. A possessive surge boils in his veins, his tongue darting into your agape lips as he wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes just enough to have your thighs tightening on his waist. He’s trapped the dangling string between his palm and your windpipe, your fingers locking into his damp snowy locks with your right and the left raking through the short, buzzed hair of his undercut, holding him in the sloppy, uncoordinated kiss he began.

There’s no rhyme or reason to the way he’s rutting into your drenched cunt, his patch of coarse, white curls scraping against your clit crippling your motions until you’re rigid and tugging at his scalp until it stings.

“Go on,” he urges in a low, husky tone, nipping at your chin, “Make a mess.”

A guttural cry rips free from your chest, the volume of it hindered by his soft grip around your neck, and he can feel you spasming beneath him as he watches your eyes roll into the back of your head. You’ll be a boneless heap still by the time he makes it back to the school, his cum leaking from your pussy as your thighs shake from exertion. He’ll smell like you for the rest of the day, something that might make his meetings more bearable, and when he gets home he knows you’ll let him do it all over again despite the residual ache in your core from this rendezvous.

“Good girl,” he praises as you gush around him, his own coil close to snapping, “I’ll give you my tongue tonight.”

That promise has you clamping down around him again, strangling his dick just enough to have his own orgasm setting him ablaze. It’s white-hot and blinding, every nerve vibrating as he spurts hot and thick into your fucked out hole, your hands still holding him close as he collapses down against your chest to regulate his breathing.

“You better still be wearing this when I get home,” he threatens as he lifts his head to gaze down at you, still dazed and in the clouds, “I want dessert before dinner.”

All you can do is hum as you giggle through your nose, your arms releasing him only when he’d lifted himself out of reach. So much for your errands, you were already half asleep. As he tucks you beneath the spare blanket he pulls from the armchair in the corner, he leans down for one more lazy goodbye kiss, enjoying the way you cradle his head once again even in this fleeting affection.

“I love you,” you murmur against him, and it’s like a shot to his chest.

“Love you,” he reciprocates, dragging his lips to press against your forehead before fixing his jacket and blindfold and turning to head back out to what he knew would be a very cross Ijichi.

When the car door slams shut Satoru doesn’t say a word. He just wants to remember the way it feels to be sheathed inside of you, but Ijichi is clearing his throat in the most obnoxious fashion. And the car isn’t moving…

“What, Ijichi?” Satoru snaps, knowing he shouldn’t be this temperamental after fucking you senseless on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Uhh,” the man in the driver’s seat stammers, “Is that a uh…is that a new style of blindfold you’re trying out?”

“What?”

“It just…it looks…different from the one you were wearing before.”

“What the hell are you—“

Satoru’s hand shoots up to feel the fabric over his eyes, a chuckle breaking up his words as he feels a familiar lace settled across his brow. His round sunglasses replace your panties over his cerulean eyes, the crumpled wad of fabric being secured in his pants pocket as he waves Ijichi forward.

“Stop at the supermarket,” Satoru instructs, “It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

MASTERLIST

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