#*clinks two brain cells together* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kinnporsche · 1 year ago

Photo

what is this? another kinn & porsche rec list by tumblr user kinnporsche? it’s more likely than you think! it seems that i literally can’t stop—it’s been an entire year since the finale and i’m still stuck in my self-imposed 24/7 kinnporsche lockdown. so, here’s a bunch more fics that are currently making life worth living for me. once again, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to spread the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because they’re doing the lord’s work! god fucking bless. [part 6/?]

— self-fulfilling prophecy by lazulialekto – explicit / 119.4k words

Porsche stepped forward, dragging his eyes from Kinn’s chest, immediately concerned, “will things go sideways?”

Kinn grimaced, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. “They often do, especially lately.” His glass clinked as he set it back down, then his hand was running down his face, stressed.

Porsche moved closer, sitting beside him, ignoring protocol completely. “If it’s that dangerous for you to go, can’t you just… not, or change the venue, or something?”

“And let them know I’m worried?” Kinn laughed bitterly as he let his hand drop down to his thigh, the Theerapanyakul family ring glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner. “I can’t do that. In this business a great deal rides on appearances. If I look weak to them, I won’t be the only target.”

— the situationship by verses – explicit / 105k words (wip)

“What about kissing?” Porsche asked, and his heart did a weird thing where it twisted all the way around his lungs and then plunged to his stomach.

Kinn raised a brow at that. “What about kissing? I feel like as the resident straight boy here, you should take the lead on this conversation.”

Porsche swallowed. “Well, do you kiss your boyfriends? In front of your friends and family?”

Kinn shrugged, and for once, the movement didn’t seem entirely effortless. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, then,” Porsche said, licking his suddenly dry lips. With tingly fingers, he added to the contract: ‘Non-sexual kissing allowed to fool participant K’s brother.’

(Or: Kinn, under pressure from the patriarch of the Theerapanyakul family, entices Porsche to enter a fake, contractual relationship with him. In return, Porsche gets money, a sexuality crisis, and a headache.)

— be the best you ever tasted by martynax – explicit / 90.9k words

“What’s your name, darling?” he questions.

“Jom,” Porsche replies after a moment, it makes a snort pass through Kinn’s lips.

“You don’t look like a Jom. Forgive me for repeating myself but you’re a shit liar,” he says once more. He still looks amused, like Porsche is telling jokes. Porsche presses his lips together stubbornly, which makes a small smirk appear on Kinn’s lips; he looks delighted for some reason. “Tell you what, darling, you tell me your name and I will end the session now. How about it?”

(Or: AU where Porsche’s life is shit so he shakes his perky little butt for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show.)

— tiger bite by verbana – explicit / 54.7k words

Kinn leaned in, raking him over with his eyes. It felt like hovering over turbulent waters, daring a wave to come and sweep him down. “What are you gonna do to make me remember?”

Porsche reached up and slid a hand through the gap in Kinn’s shirt. Two fingers traced under his left collarbone. “I’ll tattoo my name here. Then all your hookups will have to stop and ask, who’s this?”

“And what should I tell them?” Their faces were too close. Porsche’s fingertips felt like they were plugged directly into his nervous system, lighting up every cell in his body. Red warning lights started flashing in the back of Kinn’s brain but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

— twelve, twenty, almost thirty by just2wings – explicit / 34.2k words

Kinn is twelve when he falls for the boy with the bubbly laugh and fiery brown eyes, the only one who’s ever been able to pin him to the ground during taekwondo practice.

Kinn is twenty when he runs into him in the school gym, and then again in some shady alley. He falls in love all over again on a golden-lit pier, and then remembers all the reasons he shouldn’t.

Kinn is pushing thirty when he falls into a familiar, handsome bartender’s orbit again, and finally learns to ask for what he wants.

— insatiable by thewayside – explicit / 22k words (wip)

He squints to get a closer look at it and the faintest aroma hits his nose; soft and delicate like cherry blossom petals and cloying like simple syrup they keep in the bar.

(Or: Porsche steals a watch and gets kidnapped by a stinky alpha who maybe isn’t an alpha at all. What should be a one-time thing becomes bigger than either of them realizes.)

— the shape of you fitting me by nuwildcat – explicit / 18.5k words

They say that a person’s scent is a mark of compatibility. The better someone else smells to you, the stronger a bond between you will be. Porsche has smelled a lot of people working as a bartender, and many more intimately in his free time. But he’s never smelt something like this before. The scent of this omega calls to him, tempting and consuming. It’s the kind of scent that makes him inclined to think the aunties were right about destined mates.

And then he meets the omega tied to that scent, and everything just fits.

— he wants more than a tip, i’m not talking about guidance by haeseolar – explicit / 18.1k words

“Everyone, get out.”

The temperature in the room suddenly drops, everything turning still at the sound of Kinn’s voice ringing out, stopping everyone dead in their tracks and slicing right through to them. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop, nobody daring to make a move just yet.

“Didn’t you all hear me? Out!” Kinn shouts, nostrils flaring and voice devoid of any of the previous calm he had.

Everyone goes into motion then, even Chan who takes the hint and goes to join the crowd in leaving the gym. Porsche straightens himself up, still clutching over the left side of his chest as he joins the rest in filing out through the doors.

“Not you, Porsche. You stay here.”

— off to the races by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 17k words (wip)

“So, what is it that you do?” Porsche asks. “Have you always been attending the swanky events I bartend at, and I just never noticed?”

Kinn chuckles, the deep timbre of it going straight down Porsche’s spine. “Trust me, if I had ever seen you before, I would have introduced myself earlier.”

— like a serpent coiling around your throat by darkknight – explicit / 9.8k words

“Will I have to beat you into submission?” Porsche said, his voice raspy as he pinned Kinn under him.

Kinn spat at him, specks of blood coating Porsche’s face. “You can try,” he said, turning on his side to take Porsche with him as he kicked out his leg, hitting Porsche in the thigh.

The other man groaned, but quickly punched Kinn in the throat, making the breath leave him as he stood up and pressed a foot down in the middle of Kinn’s chest. The hard leather of Porsche’s shoes digging uncomfortably against his bare skin.

“Khun Kinn, always needing to be in control, but wouldn’t it be such a relief if you. Just. Let. Go?” he said, stressing the last three words by pressing his foot down harder against Kinn’s chest, making his breath come out in a harsh wheeze.

“Fuck. You."

(Or: AU where Porsche is a Yakuza boss and Kinn hates his guts.)

— consider the hairpin turn by concernedlily – explicit / 9k words

“I’m starting to think you like being punished,” Kinn says, sitting primly on his pristine couch, legs crossed.

— i always know by reason_to_write – mature / 8.3k words

His words stuck in his throat. He barely forced it out.

“Kinn…”

Immediately, even with the terrible reception quality, he could sense the shift in atmosphere on the other end of the line. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fearsome mafia leader stop mid-stride and heard the sharp intake of breath. When the voice spoke again, it couldn’t have been gentler.

“Tell me where you are.”

(Or: Porsche gets kidnapped, but Kinn is coming.)

— on the nature of trust by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 6.1k words

They don’t stop clutching at each other right away.

Even if Porsche had tried, Kinn doesn’t think that he would allow it. He needs to be pressed up against as much of Porsche as he can.

If Porsche is holding on, he stills loves Kinn.

(Or: The aftermath of the iconic bathroom scene—set between episodes 7 and 8.)

— i’ll never surrender (my control over you) by luckydragon – explicit / 5.9k words

Bottoming doesn’t come naturally to Kinn, but he knows how to get what he needs.

— second skin by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 3k words

By the time they make it back to the house, accompanied by Pete and Arm, Porsche should be exhausted. All the alcohol burned off in his system from the adrenaline of Kinn blowing into the bathroom with a gun and backup, leaving him with a crystalline sort of clarity. That, more than anything, makes him feel wide awake.

#kinnporschesource #kinnporsche: the series #kinnporsche #kinn x porsche #fic rec #leila.txt #text #leave some kudos!

297 notes · View notes

theeyoungalabastor · 1 year ago

Text

Fuck you, I'm Chaotic: A Creepypasta Friend scenario book

"Ticci" Toby: First Interaction

Wordcount: 2,325 (2K)

Fuck You, I'm Chaotic: Masterlist

"Ticci" Toby

The two of you met in the street when you had accidentally bumped into him when you were walking.

The souls of your shoes knocked agilely against the damp cement. It's coursed surface, tinted dark as the drizzle overhead dampened the hair atop your head that hung; low, avoiding eyes of passersby. The weighted plastic bag that constricted around four of your five fingers restricting the circulation that coursed the veins, thumb pressed firmly to the baggies folding crease, feathering over it in a sort of self-soothing manner.

You were used to the constant gas station runs at ungodly times and coffee scorched tongue. You rather enjoyed the change in scenery away from your house and the walls that felt as if they were suffocating you even when your parent's shouts stain the painted walls like a blood stain.

You were a good kid.

At least that's what others have told you.

You've never touched a cigarette within your seventeen years of life; you've never seen a reason to for the addiction you had developed was that of the smell of aging books and foxing pages that curled under your fingers as your enchanting eyes raked the words, soaking in every and any syllable printed along the organic vellum. Along with the brain buzzing symphonies that sang enchantingly through the miniature speakers that resided within a simple pair of earbuds.

Your home didn't feel homely but more of a cell you were forced to dwell within. You had learned to stay silent during their exchange in harsh words. You've adapted to pressing your spine as close to a wall as possible when they sauntered by; steps usually heavy; ladened with anger that always stained their sharp gazes, daring you to say or do something they deemed unfitting and out of line.

But you never did.

Despite the ball that festered within the core of your throat and the twinging that clutched the coil of emotions that grew within the confines of your chest, taut against your ribs like a boa constrictor. But you would swallow thickly and cast your gaze to the floor, slipping away till you could no longer feel their fiery gaze that seared the skin of your back.

A shuddering breath fluttered your aching lungs as you released the breath you hadn't realized you were holding as the gentle winds that clinked the browning leaves together like tangerines and the rolling thunder that sang just below a mellow hum akin to that of a muted violin. Faint grey clouds cast overhead.

If you glanced up, you would be able to see the layers that made up of the precipitation that gathered in the normally crystal blue vastness, it was intriguing to you, watching the lower clouds drift below the others, almost like a moving picture that was blurred every so often when a droplet of water washed over one of your pupils.

You were on your way back home after being sent on one of these said quick late gas station runs by your father which took longer than you anticipated since the card your mother had begrudgedly given to you had Insufficient funds which resulted in you having to pay out of pocket with your own allowance money, which put a rather harsh damper on your already somewhat souring mood considering it was just nearing dusk that cloaked the clouds above in a dreary hue, but when you stepped out, the sun had gone, casting the noon into a thick quilt of evening. Not that you could see it anyway.

The bell of the gas station's door rang behind you as it opened with a groan of obedience and Jeremy, the man who owned the small store bid a fairwell.

The upturn of your chin and lingering of your eyes caught that the air had turned angrier than before you last stepped out into the world. The sky that was lazily quilted in a thin grey was now thick and weeping silently. Small, almost microscopic tears rained from above. Not enough to be overbearing, but enough to be comforting like watching snow fall within the first weeks of winter.

You hadn't tended to stay out long, especially after the aging reports of the teens that were bludgeoned to death not far from the high school you attended, reporters from neighboring news announcing their unfortunate and rather horrific deaths.

A shudder rumbled your spine.

All of them, a quartet of adolescent teens although scattered in age and size; were stabbed umpteen times, but one had passed due to an overdose. The stories gave you chills when you listened to the passive warnings and advisories to make do with the little daylight fall brought followed by the extensive hours of night that had come sooner than you had wished.

Another upcast of your eyes caught onto the inky silhouettes of the tree canopies that waved like a slow dance to your favorite song.

The thought of music playing to assist the mingling browned leaves made your fingers itch, the tips tingling with the impulse to retrieve the white wired headphones that wrapped around the portable device that sat heavily in your hoody pocket, weighing it down like an anchor to a roaming boat atop settle waters.

You were always warned by those around that it wasn't a wise idea to stroll about with earbuds in your ears, deafening and blinding one of your few senses that may save your life but alas; impulse won as you slowed nearing a halt.

The coffee that rested warmly in the palm that lacked the plastic bag now rest, nestled protectively in the crick of your elbow, the bottom resting on your hip to assure it didn't slip from between the folds of your hoodie's loose material. The hand, unoccupied; ferreted around the pocket at your stomach, grazing against the firm material of the earbuds before gingerly pulling one out. Careful not to damage the delicate cords within the thick white casing that protected them.

Unraveled, one slipped into your ear before the other took its place in the other, the elongated button that was mainly used for volume and phone calls sat achingly under your index finger as it gives a clickyou having pressed the button.

It was like entering a whole new world away from what you were doomed to reside in. Each tone and groan of a cord made your mind swim with a sense of serenity, the sting of the coffee's solution made your tastebuds dance, the pirouette almost correspondent to the way the leaves swayed with the Zepher, you didn't need to remove the wired earbuds to hear the way the herbiage clicked together. It brought a smile to your dried lips.

It felt...

Tranquil. Despite the weighted plastic bag that wrapped your fingers with a deadly vice.

Reality had slipped from your fingers for a moment, your legs ambling. One in front of the other. Your brain, so caught in the fantasy of arcadian music. That you had failed to notice the unmoved form that stood before you, seeming just as dazed and oblivious to the oncoming body as you were in this time.

The heat of the caffeinated beverage that had unknowingly taken its place back into your palm sloshed in its restraints, the fragile thin plastic that entrapped the tongue numbing warmth split, dispelling the libation, splashing against the sensitive skin of your hand, as seconds passed the warmth spread, the sticky liquid soaking into the material of your hoodie, its tint turning a shade darker than normal as it sucked the caffeine like a dry sponge to water.

With an oof the tranquility your body had subjected itself to dissipated as a headphone fell, tugging on the other that tumbled after it, the cord taut as one clinked against the hard coursed cement, the bag that bound your deadened fingers seemed to grow light as it swung forwards, knocking into the others leg before the weight returned seeming heavier.

You stumbled back as the other jolted forwards regaining lost balance, baffled. Enlarged eyes swam with panic as you immediately discarded your own comfort, reaching out to gingerly touch the others arm that was being used to regulate their teetering balance.

"Shit, I'm so sorry dude are you alright?" You hissed, tone laced with concern and internal scolding as you stabled the poor soul you had collided with.

He stood around your height, maybe even taller, maybe shorter, but no words fell from their lips. "I apologize man, I wasn't watching where I was going, I didn't spill anything on you did I?" You respond hastily, tone akin to desperation as the hooded man turned to look at you, deep brown eyes that peered calloused from beneath the hood resting over his head the illumination of a nearby streetlamp cast a soft glow to his abnormally tinted skin. The dark tufts of burnt chestnut hair that swept around the hem of the hood made it look even more illish, but those eyes. Those dark, desensitized eyes; glared. The orbs benumbed, senseless, and obdurate. You paused, taking notice of the almost deathly pale skin akin to grey was marred with old faded, and newer raised pinkish-white scars but before you could explore his features farther, he yanked away. Almost as if he had touched something hot.

"Don' fuckin' touch me." He sneered; eye lids forced into a trained glare, his voice harsh and raspy, the bite behind the barking words and yank made your arm slump back to your side, knuckles brushing against the bag that sat at your feet, you having carefully discarding it to assure the man's comfort; which was widely unappreciated according to him.

A puff of hot air snaked past your flared nostrils, brows following close behind with a harsh furrow, the physical contortion of your features seemed to have made his own sour as he scoffed turning back to the road glazed with the light drizzle.

Your eyes rolled, a shallow whatever filtering your lips as you spun your hanging headphones around your palm, stuffing it haphazardly into the pocket of your coffee stenched hoody, the cup that once held the energy replenishing beverage now sloshed about with little to no contents; your interaction with the man looked to have officially come to an end when he stepped off of the edge of the sidewalk, walking for a moment before slowly progressing into a nimble jog as he crossed the road leaving you alone under the nearby lamp post that flickered ominously.

"Who pissed in your Cheerios..." You grumbled under your breath before crouching slightly to retrieve the bag of gas station groceries before your eyes caught a particular item discarded; despite the increasingly darkening surroundings as day turns to night it was littered in rain droplets. Slowly, a long breath wheezed past your throat as the bag left the ground, the plastic slick with water as you extended an arm to retrieve the item.

The round lenses were a faded orange, a few dark stained splotches littered the glass and outer part of the googles, it was heavier than you had anticipated, the thin cold metal resting against your sticky coffee splashed palms made them buzz with numbness as the weight grew. The elastic band meant to hold them to one's face now soaked up a good portion of rainfall that pooled in the palm of your hand that gleamed under the light of the streetlight.

Upon closer inspection of the face article under the flickering sodium light, you noticed the shallow scrapes and scratches, a few deep lacerations in the metal made the pad of your thumb grow anxious as the impulse to run the flesh over the damage crossed your mind before being shoved aside by another thought.

He must have dropped it during the collision.

Although the man was an ass, he probably needed these for his welding projects or something among the sorts.

Guilt knotted your throat as you straightened your posture, head turning, and eyes raking the surrounding streets to see if the man had come to retrieve his headgear but much to your dismay not another soul strolled the worn, water darkened cement.

The contriteness that washed your thoughts were the voices of your home folk warning you, reminding you spontaneously that it was unsafe to wander with earbuds dug into your ear ducts. Warning about how you were oblivious of your surroundings and with the recent and rather constant disappearances or slayings of neighbor of different streets; it was especially dangerous. But for some reason the notion of chasing the man down to deliver his fallen gear whispered within the dark depths in the back of your mind, the voice almost canceling the one of reason.

Just the simple thought of the instances snapped you away from the depths of your mind as you noticed the intimidatingly darkened streets that glowed with electricity.

A chest swelling rumble from the sky made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as paranoia took its hold, the recent thought of possibly chasing the man down and give him back his belonging was thrown out of the window for the time being as you shoved the gear into your hoody pocket, weighing it down more than your phone had.

The lightning that flashed overhead and the ominous shadows of the trees to your fear laced mind resembled that of spindly fingers and haunting tendrils curling and stretching to wrap you in their clutches.

The bark of thunder and nearly blinding snap of lightning was enough to make your fear numbed muscles regain consciousness and comply with your desire to return home.

With the rhythmic pound of your shoe souls against the cement that grew damper with the hardening rain that dampened skin and slicken the bag between your fingers you bounded swiftly towards the direction of home.

You would have to return his goggles another time...

_______

Unedited

64 notes · View notes

voraciousvore · 8 months ago

Text

Giganterra (Chapter 6)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (5) | Next (7)

Word Count: 3.1k words

Content Warning: Vore mentions (no actual vore)

------ Chapter 6: Convergence ------

Tanya was tired of living in an underground dungeon. Her filthy, cramped cell consisted of three stone walls without windows, a hard floor, and a door of thick iron bars. Holes in the ceiling, interspersed at regular intervals, permitted weak beams of light to filter through the darkness, but they were poor substitutes for the sun. Her bed was a thin strip of stained, smelly padding with an unwashed blanket. The only other furnishing in the small space was a chamber pot for relieving herself, which was occasionally changed out but not as frequently as she would have preferred.

The days blended together endlessly, the passage of time marked only by the flicker of dim light overhead and the arrival of bland meals with precise regularity by indifferent, faceless prison guards. She was fed lumpy oatmeal for breakfast, and withered vegetables with hard bread for lunch and dinner. The water she was given was cloudy, with a hard mineral taste. Needless to say, Tanya didn’t have much of an appetite.

In the subterranean space, sounds traveled far, bouncing off the walls until they warped into an unrecognizable state, like the distant, tortured moans of ghosts. She felt lost and forgotten. She hadn’t been trapped in the forlorn depths for long, but she felt like her sanity was gradually sapping away with the isolation and emptiness. The lack of stimulation was not only boring but draining, as her troubled thoughts skittered around in her brain like roaches and ate away at her conscious mind like a corrosive acid.

This punishment seemed excessive for just stealing food. Tanya had been hungry, and a little desperate, and she couldn’t resist the sweet cakes on display in the central plaza that she had no money to buy. She had been caught, of course. Minimaterra dealt with lawbreakers harshly, to prevent the small and insulated country from being overrun with crime. Tanya observed that the legal system seemed to punish women worse, though she didn’t comprehend the calculated reasoning behind this odd structural inequity.

She was dozing on her mattress, huddled up in her blanket to stave off the damp cold, when she heard the echo of footsteps reverberating down the corridor lined with cells. To her surprise, two burly guards silhouetted by the dim light stopped at her cell. Keys clinked together and scraped in the lock, and the bars were pulled open with a grinding squeal. The men invaded her cell and ripped the blanket off. Tanya was hoisted to her feet, still half-awake, handcuffed, and dragged away. Her legs, out of shape from her confinement, were unsteady beneath her as she stumbled along and struggled to keep pace with the men.

“What’s going on? Where are you taking me?” she mumbled sleepily, with no response. The men hauled her up a narrow set of stairs by the thick iron cuffs on her wrists as she clumsily followed. When they opened the door at the top, she was blinded by daylight brighter than she had seen in weeks. The light shot into her skull and eyeballs with a searing pain, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut for several minutes while her body adjusted to the stark change. She was thrown into a carriage and transported to another location, unable to see the whole way as her eyes adjusted to normal sun.

She was marched indoors, still squinting with discomfort. Without any explanation, she was swarmed by maids who stripped her down and washed her. Her hair was cut and styled, her nails filed, and her face groomed and powdered. She was dolled up in a very flattering dress with ostentatious lace, ribbons, ruffles, jewels, and other flourishes. Tanya was highly disoriented and confused. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she held out hope that maybe she was being pardoned and released. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice that the prison guards never left her side, even after she was unchained.

She was led by the guards through a long and very fancy hallway, the likes of which she had never seen before. As she passed by rooms fit for a mansion, she spotted a room full of beautiful ladies dressed just like her, like nobility, along with a handsome gentleman. She was led into a different room, however, that contained another comely man with spectacles flanked by more guards. She was seated next to the man, who was also neatly groomed and dressed in an outfit worthy of a rich noble.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long time. Nothing happened and Tanya started to get antsy. Keeping her voice low, she finally whispered to the man, “Are you a convict too?”

He hesitated, before answering, “Yes. I’m Graham, by the way.”

“My name is Tanya. Do you have any clue why we’re here?”

“No. They dragged me out of my cell and brought me here.” Graham glanced over at her through his peripheral vision, not wanting to make any sudden moves with the guards watching them. “Do you?”

Tanya gave a small shake of her head. “Do you think... they’re letting us go?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. It’s nice... to be cleaned up and given proper clothes. I feel human again.” He stroked his chin, which felt wonderfully smooth after being shaved. While languishing in a cell, he’d grown a scraggly, untamed beard that he despised. He was relieved to feel—and smell—like a refined gentleman again, after living like a feral animal in a dank dungeon.

The prisoners lapsed back into silence after one of the guards shot them a hostile glare. Tanya was hopeful, but a primitive instinct within her was ringing alarm bells. She sensed something was very off about this whole abnormal situation. If they were to be released, why would the guards still be watching them? Why were they dressed and groomed in such a manner, with such elaborate clothing above her lowly station? Nothing made sense. She was on pins and needles the whole time as she waited—for what, she had no idea. She considered bolting while she had the chance, but swiftly discarded the notion as foolish. She likely wouldn’t make it far with four guards chasing her, and if they really were going to let her go, she ought to be on her best behavior.

The two convicts were kept separate from the others, so they wouldn’t learn the truth and raise a fuss. The day that would permanently change their lives had come. All the tributes were prepared for inspection, dolled up to look their finest. The humans could only hope that their offerings would pass the taste test. Now they just had to wait for the giants to arrive.

Back in Giganterra, the giants prepared for their second expedition to the human lands. As Sir Maneater saddled up his horse, he noticed that Joey was dragging his feet. In fact, Joey hadn’t even touched his riding equipment. He had a hollow, dead look in his chocolate eyes, so different from their usual eager brightness and warmth.

Martin, sensing an impending crisis, understood he needed to intervene. He took the young man aside, behind the horse stables, and sat him down on an old tree stump. “What’s going on, Joey? Talk to me.”

Joey sighed heavily, averting his gaze down to his hands. “I... I don’t want to be a knight anymore.”

Martin raised a brow. “Joey... you can’t mean that! I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this. You’ve trained for years! Why would you throw away all that progress now, when you’ve been pushing so hard toward this singular goal?”

Joey slumped down. His face twisted up as if he were struggling not to cry. “You know, I used to admire knights. I idealized them for their strength of spirit and body, their discipline, their chivalry, their honor, and their vows to protect and serve. I wanted to be like you, Sir Maneater. But now...”

He let out a shuddering breath, running his hands through his messy brown hair and tugging on his scalp. Glancing around to ensure nobody else was listening, he dropped his voice and continued to speak. “Now... all I see in my future is serving a cruel and evil master. I can’t stomach the idea of becoming the king’s right hand, to enforce his iron will upon the weak. The thought sickens me and turns my stomach. I can’t look at knighthood the same way anymore. I want nothing to do with the despicable orders of the king.”

“Joey...” Sir Maneater leaned in and placed a kind hand on his squire’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel, I really do. You think I’ve never felt lost, or had doubts?” He gave his squire a gentle smile. “Of course I have. But you must understand, Joey... if you want to make a difference in this world, you must first make something of yourself. You can give up on your dream, but what good would that do? You’d be powerless to change anything, without a title or influence. Lost without a sense of direction. If you really want to stop evil, you must give yourself the tools to conquer it. You understand?”

“I guess,” Joey answered noncommittally, twitching his shoulders.

“The humans will be presented to the king whether you participate or not. Just come with us. Be alert to your surroundings. You never know when an opportunity may present itself,” Sir Maneater pressed. Joey reluctantly agreed and joined his mentor back in the stable to finish loading up the horses with their gear and supplies. He fought his revulsion as he saw the knight strap in a cage about the size of a shoebox, complete with human-sized seats lining the interior.

Besides Leon, another giant named Chester was accompanying the party. Chester held a special position at court, for he was an individual with a unique talent. He was the royal food tester, distinguished by his extraordinary senses. His sensitive nose could detect the smallest quantity of poison in any food or drink, so he could keep the royal family safe. He could track a runaway human by scent, like a bloodhound. His palate was highly refined as well, so the king trusted his taste buds to select only the best foods. He sent Chester to sample the new humans and provide quality control. The gluttonous gourmand loved to eat humans, so he was more than happy to oblige.

Chester was in a merry mood, in stark contrast to glum Joey, and to a lesser extent Martin and Leon, who were more hardened than the young squire to the unpleasant task that lay before them. As they neared the border crossing, Chester tilted his head back and inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed, savoring the fragrance like a batch of fresh-baked cookies. “They smell soooo good.” His brilliant green eyes lit up and he licked his lips ravenously. Joey glanced at the man with distaste but didn’t comment. The party of giant men left their horses with the guards after presenting the royal seal for entry and passed through the gate into the tiny world. Leon, wincing, brought the human carrier along with him. Chester panted with anticipation, his stomach audibly growling. Joey curled his lip.

“Are you... drooling?” he asked incredulously. Chester wiped off his lips on his sleeve and grinned shamelessly.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Can you really blame me though? Can’t you smell all those distinct, delicious flavors?” Joey shook his head as he carefully stepped over a red barn that didn’t even reach his knee and tiptoed around a field of corn. “Ah, well, I certainly can, and goodness, I can hardly restrain myself!”

Chester, not paying attention to his feet, sloshed through a shallow pond, scattering miniscule ducks in all directions. His wet boots sank into the grassland intended for grazing nearby, tearing up the turf and ruining the land. The surrounding horses whinnied with fear and galloped away. He stepped on a dividing fence, cracking the wooden posts into splinters. He cocked a brow as he shot Joey a penetrating gaze. “Have you ever eaten a human before?”

“No! Absolutely not!” Joey answered sharply, offended by the mere suggestion. “And watch your step, for crying out loud!” He wasn’t some bloodthirsty, uncivilized beast like the wolf across from him. He looked down at the little houses far below. He had no doubt the miniature people inside were listening to their booming voices as they talked about eating humans. Joey, at that moment, was deeply ashamed to be a giant, in such disgraceful company.

“What a shame,” Chester remarked, ignoring Joey’s tone and warning. His boot stomped down inches from a humble house, quaking the earth and eliciting a shrill scream from within. “You’re missing out. Every human has their own flavor, you see. Luckily for me, since I’m the royal food taster, I get the privilege of tasting every single human that comes to Giganterra.”

Joey was flooded with indignation as he opened his mouth to argue with Chester. However, a small shake of the head from Sir Maneater sealed his lips. He bit back a snippy retort with some difficulty. Chester was an important personage at court, not the sort of man anyone would want to make an enemy out of. Though the knight didn’t enunciate any seditious thoughts out loud, he did not wish for Joey to pick a fight with the one man who singlehandedly prevented the king from being poisoned.

Chester continued to prattle on about all the different flavors that humans came in, indifferent to the looks of horror he received from the wee denizens at his feet. Joey pulled with discomfort at his hair and collar, as if trying to hide his huge face from humiliation as he was forced to listen. He struggled to keep his mouth shut as Chester related a mildly lewd anecdote about a lady that tasted exactly like a cream puff. The embarrassed squire attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Chester had a one-track mind, especially with the strong scent of humans pervading the air.

“I’m interested in tasting a few men this time around,” Chester rambled, droplets of drool sliding down his chin. His salivary glands were going haywire with how voracious he was. “I’ve only sampled women up to this point, since King Richard usually only requests female specimens. I wonder if the human men taste the same as their women? I’ve heard rumors that women are generally sweeter, while men are more savory, but I don’t know if it’s true. What do you think, Joey?”

“I... I don’t know,” Joey mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. Desperate to change the subject, he pointed off into the distance. “Hey look, there’s the castle!”

The four massive giants, now that they were entering the city, had to walk in single file through the central roadway to avoid knocking over any buildings. Even Chester was cautious as the space became narrower and more cramped for their enormous feet. Mercifully, the extra attentiveness that his surroundings commanded prevented him from talking too much. Even so, as his eyes diverted to his feet, he ogled the little people like a starving man at a buffet, as if he was tempted to snatch them up and shovel them into his slavering maw. Flecks of slobber rained down from his mouth onto the rooftops and streets, to the disgust of the people down below.

The small humans with their carts and horses scampered out the way, but Leon still managed to accidentally smash the stall of a fruit vendor underfoot, turning his wares into mush. “Ah! no!” the merchant cried as he watched his livelihood get pulverized, running out a few steps into the open street before realizing his grave error in revealing himself. He halted, face white with fear.

Leon bent over, engulfing the man in shadow. “Oh my goodness, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, it was an accident!” he apologized profusely. The merchant, as upset as he was about losing his entire stock, was too terrified to even engage in conversation with the intimidating giant. Leon recognized, as he continued to blabber on, he was getting nowhere with his words as the merchant merely stood in place, quivering uncontrollably. After a moment of contemplation, he fetched some silver coins from his pocket and carefully stacked them in front of the merchant. The human gawked in amazement at the shiny treasures, which were trivial pocket change to a wealthy giant but worth a fortune to the tiny human, more than all the fruit and his stall combined. The coins were several feet in diameter, a few inches thick, and likely too heavy for the merchant to even lift on his own.

“Here, I hope this will be enough to cover your losses,” Leon said, running his hand nervously through his gray-flecked hair.

The merchant nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Y-yes, sir, that will cover it,” he squeaked timidly. Leon acknowledged his response and straightened back up to his full height. The giants continued on to the central plaza, with Leon leaving behind a giant footprint lined with fruit juice, while the merchant stared in disbelief at the huge silver coins that constituted a life-changing sum of cash.

When they arrived at the palace courtyard, it quickly became apparent that four giants would be one too many to comfortably fit within the walls of the open space without trampling the garden, statues, or fountain.

“Joey, why don’t you wait for us outside?” Sir Maneater suggested. Joey nodded and stepped back respectfully. He waited awkwardly in the market square of the human city, the only location wide enough for him to stand comfortably without having to contort his legs or crunch his feet together.

Joey surveyed the area around his feet, looking down at the miniscule stalls and buildings and people. He hadn’t felt quite so bad when he was moving around, but now that he was standing in place with nothing to do, social anxiety started to creep in. So many tiny people were staring up at him, gawking at him, glaring, whispering and gossiping about him amongst themselves. He hated to be the center of attention, to add on to his deluge of guilt, but such a circumstance was unavoidable when he was a monument, towering over everyone and everything. His face flushed bashfully, and he fiddled with his glasses to mitigate his discomfort. When he wasn’t able to tolerate the feeling any longer, he lumbered off, determined to find a secluded spot in the countryside where he could sit, rest his legs, and wait for the others.

Chapter 7

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #tiny #giant tiny #size difference #g/t story #vore story #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #gt writing #gianttiny #giant men #gt story #extreme size difference #giants #gentle giant

18 notes · View notes

lost-in-the-dreamscape · 1 year ago

Text

A few months have passed now since everyone had suddenly remembered the lives they lived before this one. When it all started, it was like a jolt of electricity, the memories shooting through the veins directly to the brain. There was nobody I knew who hadn't felt this strange phenomenon of recollection. My parents felt it, my friend two doors down the road came running to my front porch when she felt it. The news stations bursted with people telling their stories of these memories. However, nobody had any explanation for it. Scientists tried to claim it was some sort of mass hallucination residing in their cities caused by the climate, but were quickly shut down when the entire world claimed the same thing. Many tried to blame social media or government conspiracies, but those blaming it had felt it too.

Now, it's just become a common topic for people to discuss, like asking someone their favorite color or taste in music. Most people answer the same; some sort of farmers of fields of crops or livestock, some people recall running a small bakery or jewelry store, some even remembered they were rich lords in their past lives. It all sounded like they were living in a fantasy.

As for me, unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

When my memories were somehow brought back to me, it wasn't milking cows waiting for the right time to harvest for the fall. It wasn't living comfortably surrounded by riches or raising a family in a peaceful village that I called home. What I remember is a damp, dark cell of cold stone. Through a small hole in the ceiling dripped a muddy, brown water that pooled in the corner. It was disgusting and burned my tongue, but was the only thing I could drink. I remember my claws scratching at the rough walls and ripping out the moss that grew between the bricks to stuff into my mouth, filled with sharp teeth that were meant for meat instead of the tiny leaves that grew around me. The only food I could eat to survive. My stomach ached and made sounds that would keep me up at night.

But worst of it all, I remember the jingling of keys that would come down the hallway I couldn't see. The clinking of metal boots on the floor as the wicked ones approached me, tapping their steel blades against the rusted bars that held me back from ripping them apart. They held their torches high as they laughed at me. Low growls would escape my throat in retaliation, yet I still felt powerless. Something had been stripped away from me, an organ in my throat that once held the power of mighty flames that would scorch any knight who would come to claim my head before. And they laughed. Instead of killing me, they mocked me and threw their rotten leftovers at me. I had to eat what I was given, or I wouldn't make it another day. They watched as I struggled and gagged. And they laughed. They tore the wings from my back, they took my freedom from me when all I wanted was to defend my life. They sent an army out for my head, but decided this would be better. To keep me in a tiny cage and make me their pet. Clipped the spines off my tail, made me into a big joke. And they laughed. And they laughed. And they laughed…

"So, what was your past life like? I bet you were something cool like a knight!" My little brother giggled, playing with the braid in my hair as we sat on the couch together watching TV.

"Just a common life, honestly boring." I replied. Probably the biggest lie of the century.

Everyone suddenly remembers their past lives. You’re doing everything you can to lie about who you were before. “just a common life, honestly boring.”- probably the biggest lie of the century.

#writing #writing prompt #creative writing #fantasy #thought I'd try my hand at this #its way too early man i should be asleep-

5K notes · View notes

squad-dads-dumpster · 3 years ago

Text

Url change!

Heyo! Just letting everyone know “erwin-smith-is-love” has been changed. Still me, different name!

#also it feels refreshing seeing a different handle name #aaaaaah so nice and shiny #*clinks two brain cells together*

0 notes

the-faceless-bride · 3 years ago

Text

Sunday was supposed to be A fun day

Lost boys x reader

The boys were just having some fun on the boardwalk, they have gotten a lot more virulent after what happened with the frog brothers and we're starting to take extra safety processions...

Even going to a witch

Marko and Paul were touching everything!! Crystals, trinkets, bottles that were sealed at the top with wax and trying to get it open

Dwayne was looking around making sure the witch doesn't try anything on them, he almost let them down once he wasn't taking any chances again.

David is talking with the witch, asking her questions and telling her what had happened that night... When he asked her what they should do she gave him an answer...

"You'll have to lay low for a little while," Ravynne said, her green eyes staring the Vampires down; she walked around them, her heels lightly clicking as she grabbed different bottles off her shelves.

"Lay...low?" David questioned as his eyes trailed after her, keeping his guard up. Ravynne pushed her dark passion twists put off the way of her face the rings and shells in her hair clinked together gaining the other's attention.

"Yes, those young boys will now be on the lookout for more Vampires, and when they go looking and they find you... It won't end well" she said slowly in her low sensual voice, causing Paul to bite his lower lip and Marko to elbow him in the ribs with a scoff.

As Ravynne whispered chants on the four gems she could barely focus from all the giggling, whispers, and grunts... She was a busy and powerful woman that didn't have all day for silly games and a group of brutish Vampires that only care for themselves... And then a vision flashed behind her eyes, she smirked and knew how to take two birds with one stone.

Protect the boys and get them to care about someone other than themselves... She knew just the spell to cast on these gems...

Marko jumped around with Paul as they laughed and joked; going back home to their cave. Paul was unable to stop playing with the Blue Gem that was now hanging from his neck. "So... What do you think they do?" Paul asked his partners.

"I... Don't know... Maybe they like... Shoot the fuck out of people how come near us?" Marko answered. David chuckled and Dwayne playfully rolled his eyes. But the calm playful mood shattered as they heard a group of people talking... And they didn't sound friendly.

They talked about terrible means to torture Vampires and they wanted to hunt them down, and then something happened.

"Did you hear that?" One of the hunters asked the others; David, Dwayne, and Marko looked to Paul who accidentally kicked a spray can. The hunters start to follow the sound and the boys started to panic, after the fog brothers they just came back... They weren't strong enough to fight yet, they are still weak.

But then they felt a strange twist in their bones and for a moment everything went black, only for a moment later being met with the hunters; only they weren't attacking them?

"It's just some stupid cats!" One of the hunters called out to the others...

Wait... What?

The boys looked down to be met with fluffy paws... When David tried to talk only a meow left his mouth... 'Well... Looks like we will be talking telepathically' David groaned.

'My feet hurt! Dwayne Carry meeeee!' Marko complained 'I can't carry you, Marko... I don't have any thumbs to lift you.' Dwayne explained

'We won't make it to the cave in time! The sun is almost up!' Paul cried out to his partners and they started to panic again... That is until they heard a voice.

"Kitties?" The boys all turned around and while David and Dwayne looked as though they were ready to scratch, hiss, and claw; Paul and Marko looked at each other getting the same idea due to sharing one single brain cell.

They both started meowing and trying to rub themselves on the stranger, 'what the hell are you two doing?!' David yelled not wanting his partners to get hurt 'think about it, the sun is coming up! We play our cards right and they might take us home!' Marko explained to his two other partners.

Before David or Dwayne could do anything they heard the sound of a zipper, the stranger opened up their bag taking off their sweater and placing it at the bottom of their bag picking the kittens up starting with Marko then Paul, the stranger looked to the other two cats wondering if they should take them too; Dwayne took the first step moving towards the stranger, then David.

The zipper closed but not all the way to allow air and they started to move; they all huddled up snuggling together burying themselves in the soft material of the sweater to hide from the small speck of sun that would be showing soon as they all slowly drifted to sleep.

They would figure out what to do later, but for now, they wanted to sleep; they were tired.

Cat-astrophe masterslist

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines #poly lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #lost boys imagine #the lost boys as cats #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys imagine #the lost boys marko #lost boys #slashers x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #slasher headcanons #analeena's slashers #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul

412 notes · View notes

twilighthomunculusart · 4 months ago

Text

I made a companion piece lol. It can also be read here

"I'm going to need access to your brain stem if we are going to work on body modifications."

The way Seiji could switch from goofy to serious so on a dime baffled Kyoichi. One moment he didn't know what a carburetor was, the next he was reciting the circuitry map of the human body.

Here he was staring Kyoichi dead-on, artificial animalistic features almost sending Kyoichi into fight or flight. He was asking permission to access the human body's most vulnerable part, other than the brain itself, for visual and physical improvements they had discussed over the many weeks after they've decided to team up.

This interpersonal access was assumed to be a given, especially considering all that was left of the flesh Kyoichi. But Seiji prided himself in his work and needed to know with absolute certainty to carry on before digging through the literal guts of his new companion.

"Go ahead." Kyoichi stared him back.

He was propped against a makeshift examiners chair in a hobbled together but well used workshop hidden in some back alley rental basement Seiji called home. The whole room was cluttered with various artificial limbs, wiring, hammers, screws, sockets all organized as if they would lose their object permanence if tucked away neatly in drawers.

Seiji had just finished setting up a laptop near the examiners chair with various cords and electrodes hanging off one of its ports. A program on the screen was loading titled "Neural Multimeter."

As he waited for it to load he positioned himself behind Kyoichi's head. He felt the jerk of an extension cord being plugged into the base of his neck and his optics fuzzed from the extra flood of electrons.

"Based on the logo and serial number engraved into your neck, I'd say this is a Adam 3.7 #6509AD. These guys typically put the brain within the chest cavity, I'll have to remove your battery to access it."

"Hmm." Kyoichi briefly considered the implications of the position before Seiji verbalized them.

"Typical Hojo Corp. sacrificing accuracy with ease of access, makes it easy for repairs in the long run but their weakness comes with those repairs being constant. But I guess that's why I love messing with these bodies so much," he flashed a grin at Kyoichi that did little to calm whatever was reminding him of his childhood fears of doctors and needles.

Seiji returned to face him. Above head lights illuminating him from behind casting a threatening shadow as he loomed over him. With an uncomfortable twist and a crunch he removed his left hand and replaced it with another. This one with a multitude of hand tools replacing each finger.

"You ready?"

Kyoichi's semi-conscious fears involuntarily forced him to focus on the laptop, "Go for it."

"Don't be scared. You won't feel a thing."

That was a lie. He felt the plastic of Seiji's legs clink against his own as he straddled him for a better reach, each subtle touch sending a flinch into his mind. He felt the warmth of Seiji's torso as he leaned forward to access miniscule screws that held his body in place. And he felt the tension between his hips and his chest dissipate as each screw was removed. The battery pack: not only a source of life but a source of connection between the two halves of his body, as it was slowly released from its confines he felt his balance wobble, spine too weak on its own to support his upper half. He braced his arms behind him.

He then felt himself suddenly grow cold as two clicks separated the battery from his circuit.

He turned his head. Forcing himself to watch on. The part of him that wanted to run was still there but part of him was curious. Fascinated even by the deconstruction, no dissection, happening in front of him.

Even without the curiosity, he should know how he was constructed, he couldn't rely on other mechanics for repair forever.

Two clawed hands wrapped around his "stomach" of a liquid cell battery, eyes intensely focused on the task at hand. Then slowly he lifted it up and plopped it onto the floor next to him.

"Next is the thermal plate separating the heat from the battery from all the important circuitry trapped inside you," he lightly tapped the chest to indicate the you.

The plate came off with a thump. No real screws attached itself to the rest of him so all it took was a little careful shimmying and wedging of Kyoichi's ribs.

"You ready for the fun part?"

Kyoichi said nothing but tensed up in preparation. Seiji readjusted himself, body dangerously close to Kyoichi but only touching in the places that absolutely needed support. His hands slowly crawled into the cavity carefully picking around delicate parts as they rummaged around for their target.

There was no haptic input within the cavity. Nothing to indicate exactly what was being touched, pushed, and pulled around. Forearms of those hands slowly disappeared further into the chest. He could hear the hands scrape against the harder bits of himself, clink as it avoided delicate connections, and tug against various unseen plastic cords. Each shadow of motion echoed in Kyoichi implying a maze within him that he’d never see and Kyoichi could feel none of it.

But goddamned did he want to.

"Damn. They really crammed all this in here," said Seiji after what felt like an eternity of silence. Then something tugged inside Kyoichi and Seiji lit up, "there we go."

Slowly, Seiji pulled out his arms. With them came a tangle of cords, slumping out from their tightly packed position spilling all over the examiners table and even on the floor. The further he returned, the more spilled out until finally he saw the cupped hands of his mechanic, carefully clutching the grey sphere that was his cranium, all remaining cords and wires hung off the thing like a cobweb.

He held it up for Kyoichi to see.

It was vaguely translucent as a faint shadow of folds silhouetted themselves against the light. As he looked closer he could vaguely make out veins and microchips dotting the surface.

Kyoichi had seen diagrams of the human brain before. Pictures too from various articles and posts about the subject. Every time he did he felt a slight quease and nausea of ‘that wasn't where it belonged’. Here, however, he was fascinated, eyes tracing along every bit of surface he could see pausing at every electrode, wire, and bit of metal they shoved into the thing.

Seiji gently traced along Kyoichi's gaze, fingers clicking against the casing. He could tell by his gaze that this was his favorite part of the build. The actual person behind the body. He held the cranium gently caressing its shape making great care not to drop it. He held it up close to his face as he took in the construction of the interfacing, its crude and sloppy makeup that still managed to do its job right, considering all the things that can be done with it based on how it was built. He held it so close to his face that fog from his breath clouded the surface.

It was warm.

Electrons rushed down whatever replaced his spine.

"So this is you?"

Seiji looked him in the eye, claws still creating a satisfying clackle as he cradled the casing closer to his center of gravity.

"He's beautiful."

“So, this is you?”

#fan fic #double whammy #initial d mecha au

80 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 3 years ago

Text

You Can & You Will

Rita Calhoun x fem!reader Technically a continuation of THIS, but can be read solo. Warnings: language, smut, spanking, bondage, blindfolds, minor dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, temperature play, impact play.

The sound of the cell door clinking didn’t pull you out of your trance while you worked on your closing arguments, but the sudden set of Manolo’s appearing in your eyeline did. Glancing up, you weren’t surprised to find Rita there to bail you out.

“Heard you got in a bit of a snafu today?” She smirked, “What’d’you do?”

“Sassed the Judge…twice.” Her expression said it all, “I know, I know, not ideal. People usually let it slide because of the whole kid thing, but…Donnelly, not so much.”

“First time in contempt I take it?” Rita asked, pausing while you collected your things, throwing your paperwork into your bag.

“Yeah.” You followed her out to the elevator, “thank you, you didn’t have to come bail me out.”

“Oh…don’t think you’re getting out that easy.” She smirked as the elevator doors slid shut, giving you privacy, “you’re still getting punished tonight.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat at her words and the gleam in her eyes as she drank in your form. Since the Valentines Gala the two of you had continued on your little play dates whenever the time appeared. Everything was pretty causal, you’d see each other occasionally in the halls of the courthouse, exchanging a knowing greeting and nod or end up panting for breath tangled in Rita’s sheets.

You were slightly thankful you’d been charged with contempt as the entire rest of the afternoon you could barely focus, her warning haunting itself through your brain. You clenched your thighs together in anticipation and did your best to finish paperwork.

Rita greeted you with a sly smile and a gentle kiss, passing you a glass of scotch when you entered her apartment. You sucked back the amber liquid while shucking your blazer and shoes, placing your bag in a spare chair. Rita snuck behind you, brushing your hair to one side of your neck, laying a soft kiss on the exposed skin.

“Go get undressed.” She nodded toward the bedroom.

You paused to kiss her cheek, but did as she said, folding your clothes on top of the dresser, perching you now naked self on the foot of the bed. Rita slipped into the room, swiftly ridding herself of her suit before stepping into the closet. You watched as she flitted around, picking up a small handful of toys and the like, the most intriguing being the leather crop fitted with a heart shaped end. She placed them down on the side of the bed then turned to you, caressing your cheek gently,

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“You remember our word?”

“Cherries.”

“Good girl.” She grinned, kissing you briefly before she spoke again, “lie back, hands above your head.”

You did as she said, breath catching in your throat at the feel of her body climbing over yours, her skin hot against you. She expertly wove a silk scarf around your wrists, securing them together and then leant forward to loop the extra fabric around the headboard. You couldn’t help but nip at the skin of her hip, earning a swat on your wrist, a small ‘tsk’ uttering from above you.

“You really don’t know how to behave do you?” She cocked a brow as she sat back up, purposely grinding down against your pussy, chuckling at the way you whined at the sudden contact. Her hands picked up another silk scarf, “this will help you really feel everything, alright darling?” She wrapped it around your eyes, knotting it behind your head, leaning down to kiss you, nipping at your lower lip before she murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

You huffed out in defiance, but didn’t complain any more, you knew you were probably already in for it, didn’t want to push any further. Listening intently you heard her moving through a distant room in the apartment, something clinking against a glass, water running and the whir of you weren’t sure what. A few minutes later she returned, placing the items down on the bedside table.

“Roll over for me darling.” She muttered, smacking at your hip with the crop suddenly. You let out a breathy gasp at the feel, rolling onto your stomach. “Good girl.” Rita moved around the bed, the crop light in her hand as she trailed it up the inside of your leg, barely daring to skim past your pussy lips before repeating the action on the other side. “You got yourself in some serious trouble today, you know that? Do you think you can handle being a good girl the rest of the night for me? Hmm?” The crop paused slightly, gently swatting at the flesh of your thigh.

“Yes.” You breathed out, your body already shivering at the thought of what was coming.

“Good.” The bed dipped with her weight while she leant forward to press a kiss into the small of your back.

She repeated her movement of dragging the crop up the inside of your legs, this time twisting it so the seam of the heart pulled through your folds, pulling a small moan from you. It came up to the swell of your ass, circling at the flesh before swatting down at it. Rita started small, nearly gentle as she tested out your endurance level, smiling at the breathy ‘oh’ that left your lips at the first hit. She pulled back a little further this time, moving to the opposite cheek, the crop coming down with more power in this hit. Your body shuddered, hips grinding against the mattress, your moan louder and very appreciative this time.

“You like that don’t you darling?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Shame. It’s supposed to be your punishment.”

You didn’t even have time to react to her words before she hit you again, this one causing you to cry out, your body jolting on the bed. While the sting may have been painful, it brought a jolt of electricity between your legs, and a chuckle from Rita.

“That’s more like it.” She murmured.

The spanks continued to get harder and sharper as she teased you, tantalizing your folds with the tip of the crop, murmuring at how good you were taking it, how turned on you were getting with each hit. The entire thing was nearly too much for you, each hit pulled louder and longer moans from you, your juices slicking your thighs as you clenched them together. Her intensity of the hits increased and you knew you’d be left with a few welts the next day, secretly hoping there was at least one in the shape of a heart.

Rita slowed, her hand coming to soothingly rub at your tender skin, the gentle touch calming the stinging marks. Her lips met your back again, giving you a few moments to try and catch your breath while her hand snuck between your legs, toying with your pussy.

“This really is turning you on isn’t it darling?”

“Yes…” you whined, nodding your head against your arm, “please…don’t stop…”

“If you insist.” She laughed, spanking the crop down onto your cheek again. This time she didn’t let up, hitting the exact same spot directly after. Your cry was nearly strangled this time, she repeated the motion on the other side, adding a third spank before jumping right back to the first spot.

You strained against your bounds, your body shivering and lurching to the side, you ached to touch her, to touch yourself. You just wanted to truly feel her. The added sensation from the blindfold had you having know idea what was coming next. Her hand slid up your leg, wrapped around your thigh, pinching at the flesh as she hit you one last time in the same moment cupping at you cunt. Your body jumped, hips shooting upward at the contact, eager for more. You felt her weight shift again, suddenly the crop smacked into the side of your hip, you cried out louder, body convulsing.

“Roll back over.” She demanded, and you did with a shudder. “You want me to touch you darling?”

“Please!” You begged, your voice naught but a whine at this point.

Rita chuckled darkly and you knew she had something planned, you yelped as the crop came down on your swollen clit, a strangled moan leaving your lips. She tossed the crop aside, her hands soothing at your skin, fingers tracing up the inseam of your legs, dancing up your sides, softly cupping at your chest until she was leaning over you again. Her lips met yours in a gentle yet deep kiss, tongue delving into your mouth as you tugged against the scarf, wanting to wrap your arms around her body. She peppered your jaw with kisses, her teeth biting into the supple skin of your neck and you groaned at the feeling, curling your thighs against each other, needing more of a sensation on your skin.

You felt her body straddle yours, her weight shifting to the side as she reached the bedside table, a small tinkering sound echoing through the room. You gasped at the sudden frozen sensation against your tit, Rita circling the cube around your nipple as you shivered, goosebumps breaking free on your skin. Her mouth encased your other nipple, sucking and lapping at it with enthusiasm, mirroring the frigid movements from the ice cube. Her teeth sunk into your skin, tugging your nipple into her mouth, letting it drag out of her mouth while the cube slid to your midriff, her pointer finger flicking at your chilled

skin. Before you could even realize what she was doing, the cube was on your opposite side, freezing the heated flesh. You gasped, your hips thrusting up against her as you heard a swishing noise, Rita swallowing back a gulp of hot tea, warming her mouth even more before it returned to your previously frigid skin.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned out, the sensations driving you wild as she continued to torment you. You could feel the way her lips smirked around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth, lapping at it with her tongue before she popped off. A fresh cube found its way to your skin, tracing patterns up your body, trailing across your neck, bringing a string of whimpers from you. Rita shifted down the bed, settling between your legs as she let the cube join the first nearly melted one near you belly button. You jolted at the feel of ice on your thighs, throwing your head back as Rita sunk her fingers into your very ready pussy.

“God you’re drenched darling.” She murmured. Her fingers skillfully fucked into you, curling and twisting before pulling out, dragging your wetness around your clit and lower lips, making sure you were well lubricated. While her hand returned into your fluttering walls you yelped at the feel of ice against your clit, your hips shooting off the bed, pussy clenching around her hand. You thought you would be able to handle it at first but then her mouth closed around the cube and your clit, tongue lapping against you, the temperature difference causing your body to nearly convulse. You were so close to coming, whimpering out your pleas, arms tugging against your bounds. Rita felt the way your walls were pulsating around her hand, slipping her hand out of you while her mouth left your clit.

“Rita!” Your whine was laced with heavy frustration and desire, she simply laughed.

“You’re getting what you deserve darling.” She smirked back, relishing in the fact that you couldn’t see what she was doing, or even imagine what her plan was.

Popping a fresh cube in her mouth she left your clit abandoned, turning her attention on your pussy, lapping up your juices while dancing the ice around in her mouth. You ached against the bed, eager to pull her closer into you, your body quaking underneath her. The parallels of the frozen ice and her warm mouth were driving you wild, you’d been so close with just the spanking you were sure you would come quickly, another frustrated groan escaping your lips when she pulled away again, chuckling at your pain.

“Maybe now you’ll learn to be good.” She murmured, biting at the skin of your thigh, swallowing back what was left of the cube. Reaching over to the pile of toys she picked up her faved dildo, slicking it through your folds, gathering up your wetness on the tip before slapping your clit with it. You moaned out,

“Please…”

“Please what?” She murmured, sliding the toy into you. You felt the ridges of it slide against your walls, dragging against the sensitive spot within you, your hips easily rolling in time with her thrusts. Her free hand occasionally came to play with your clit, watching the way your chest began to heave with each thrust, right as you were about to let out a whine, she pulled the toy completely from you and you nearly shrieked.

“Can I come? Please, please can I come?”

“If you insist darling.”

She leant over you again, her lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss that you returned with just as much vigor, tongue plunging into her mouth, rolling heavily next to hers. Her fingers curved up your cheek, moving to slide the blind fold off your face, it wasn’t like you would be needing it much longer anyways. Then her hand moved down your body, delving into your awaiting pussy, you groaned into her mouth, hips shooting off the bed while she curled into your g-spot. It was only a matter of minutes until your cunt was clenching around her fingers, fire burning beneath your skin, a shout echoed around the room as she finally let you come.

Panting, you ached for your arms to be able to wrap around her, your fluttered shut eyes not seeing her reach back to the pile of toys. You yelped at the feel of a vibrator against your folds, she nearly instantly brought it back up to your clit while her mouth plunged into your pussy.

“Wait…” you begged.

“You said you wanted to come darling.” She murmured back, flicking the speed on the vibrator up.

It only took a few seconds before your thighs were shaking, a second orgasm washing over you as you cried out. You should have known better that she wasn’t about to let up at two, she swapped the placement, sucking you clit into her mouth as the vibe twirled against your pussy. Your body was electrified, hips rutting against her mouth uncontrollably, the sensation shooting through you, a strangled plead escaping your lips as you came again. Rita instantly moved again, smirking at the amount of wetness leaking out of your pussy, the vibrator clicked up a speed as it nestled on your clit, her hand grabbing the dildo again, plunging it into you. At first you thought you could handle it, the double stimulation might not have been too much, but then her hand flipped the switch on the dildo and it began to twist and twirl within you. A strangled sob left your lips, your arms wrenched so powerfully against the tie that Rita was nearly worried about her headboard for a moment before you collapsed in a shriek. Your walls pulsing around the toy, your whimpers bouncing off the walls of her bedroom.

It was only when she pulled the dildo from you, lowering the speed of the vibe that you were able to pant out a plea as her mouth ducked down to your pussy again.

“Rita…please….I can’t” you begged, tears leaking down your face.

“You can…and you will.” She practically growled, burying herself into your cunt. Her tongue lapped around your thighs, tidying the mess your previous orgasms had made before diving into your pussy. She sucked and licked like the damn goddess she was, expertly bringing your peak higher and higher as she turned the vibe up another on your nub. Her fingers slipped into you, fucking you with ease as you thrashed against her body, the fire building hotter than you could ever imagine

Your near yells bounced off her bedroom walls as your hands wrenched against your bounds, creating tiny tears in the silk as yet another orgasm ripped through you. Rita slowly started to pause at the sound of a strangled cry leaving your lips, she clicked off the vibe, tossing it aside while her fingers gently fucked you through your orgasm. Gently she shifted off your body, moving up the bed to free you of your bonds, her hands softly caressing the reddening marks before kissing your wrists softly.

“You okay?” She murmured.

“Yes.” You gasped out, “fuck… you’re incredible.”

__________ @giftedchildturns40 @hbkpop p @clarawatson @naturalxselection @ms-calhoun @natasha-danvers @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @stone-hearted-seymour @venablemayfairgoode @solemnnova @whimsicallymad @oliviaswifey @screenee @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @molllss @wosoimagines @michael-rooker @alexbllake @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @newyorker14 @wandas-wife @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactive @wandasbrat @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @muscatmusic18 @ladysc @alexusonfire @drduckthief @dxtery @lannister-slings-and-arrows @1-lindsay83 @swimmingstudentchaos891 @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @when-wolves-howl @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that

#rita calhoun #rita calhoun x reader #law and order svu #svu #rita calhoun one shot #rita calhoun smut

131 notes · View notes

pilothusband · 4 years ago

Text

All Hail The King

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Alcohol, oral sex, p in v sex, praise kink. I’m a horny bitch, okay? This is purely indulgent.

Word count: 5k

Author’s note: Special thanks to @wyn-dixie for reading this over before I posted it and for enabling this filth. ❤️ This idea entered my brain randomly and I had to write it out. Please let me know what you think! I want your feedback. If I had Photoshop I would have made an edit of Frankie with a crown for this but I don’t have it so here’s this gif instead.

The bar is humming with activity, but the table you’re nestled at in the back provides enough shelter to allow you all to converse without having to yell at each other.

You’ve been nursing a glass of water for a while now, since you’re the designated driver this week. It doesn’t bother you, though— you’re just happy to be out with your friends.

Every once in a while you steal a glance over at Frankie, who’s sitting diagonally across the table, next to Santiago who is directly across from you. Benny is to your left, his large body crowding you into the wall, and his brother Will is at the head of the table.

“Hey Fish,” Benny claps a hand on his shoulder. The force of his hand jostles Frankie’s solid body backwards a little, but to his credit he doesn’t flinch. “How are things with that girl you were seeing? Jennessa? Jennifer?”

You take a sip of your water and look down at the table to mask your interest at the sudden change in conversation.

“Jessica,” Frankie clears his throat. “They aren’t. We didn’t have much in common so she broke it off after a few dates.”

Queue the internal cheering. Jessica was a bit of a wet mop, to be honest. She never had anything to say when Frankie brought her around and she would scoff at everything that was slightly unsavory in her eyes. Deep down, you had to come to terms with the jealous twinge you felt in your gut every time she would squeeze Frankie’s shoulder affectionately, her immaculately manicured nails pressed harshly into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, Fish,” Benny said, slinging his arm around the man, the clumsy movement knocking his hat slightly askew. “Her loss, brother.”

“Here here,” Santi agrees, raising his bottle in the air. “To the king!”

Benny cheers clinks his bottle against Santiago’s echoing his sentiment. Will huffs out a laugh and Frankie groans, hiding his face in his hands.

You gape at the two men in question, but they just giggle like a couple of school girls.

“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” you say, trying to figure out what they’re talking about. You look over at Frankie as he takes an impatient sip from his drink.

Benny just about spits out a mouthful of beer onto the table.

“Shut the fuck up, guys.” Frankie warns his friends. “Seriously.” Santi and Benny give him an innocent look. Will focuses his gaze on the bottle he’s holding, picking at the paper label, damp and curling at the edges from condensation .

Santiago leans towards you, his breath hot in your ear.

“We call him the pussy eating king.”

You thank the powers above you weren’t mid-sip, because the choked sound that emits from your throat was both involuntary and sudden. Heat blossoms in your stomach and your thighs clench together as you make eye contact with Frankie. He looks away nervously, embarrassed even.

“So was this a self coronation or..” You trail off, grinning at the flush on Frankie’s cheeks.

“It was that really talkative chick he was seeing for a while,” Benny says, turning to you. “Brianna?”

“Brenda,” Frankie sighs.

“So Brenda crowned you the pussy eating king?” You ask Frankie, who still refuses to meet your eyes.

He grumbles in response, waving off the subject.

“Yeah, she went on about it in detail for the whole night one time. I think you were away for a work trip or something” Santiago is absolutely smirking, loving the way Frankie is physically shrinking under the group’s attention. “Come on Fish, don’t be so modest. You’re a beast in the sack, it’s a good thing!”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You remember why you weren’t there. It was because you couldn’t stand seeing Frankie so happy with another woman, so you feigned sick.

“Well, I can see why things with Brenda didn’t last,” you respond, knowing Frankie was kind of a private guy. “But hey, at least she can tell all her friends she got the royal treatment while it lasted.”

Benny, Santiago and even Will all roar with laughter, fists banging raucously on the table. Frankie huffs out an embarrassed laugh, despite himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he takes a swig of his beer, emptying it. “I need another drink.”

“Hey Ben, what time is your fight next week again?” Will calls over to his brother. You’re grateful for the change of subject. Frankie’s had enough torture for one night and you aren’t sure how many more details about Frankie’s sexual prowess your nether regions can take.

Benny turns towards Will to talk about his upcoming match and you take a sip from your glass to try to hide how flustered you’re feeling. Did this bar get hot all of a sudden?

The glass lands back down with a dull thump and you look up to find Santiago studying you, his eyebrow raised.

“What?” You don’t mean to sound aggressive, but his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s trying to suss out something you’re hiding.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He smirks and tips up his beer, taking a long gulp. You roll your eyes at him and look down to pick at your nails.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with a fresh beer and you can feel Santiago turning his face in your direction again to read your body language. You school your reaction, fingers digging painfully into your pint glass. Sometimes Pope is too fucking nosy for his own good.

He must lose interest after a moment though, because he turns his attention back to Benny, who’s still talking about his upcoming fight.

The topic doesn’t come up again, thankfully, and you’ve dropped all the boys off at their separate destinations, save for Frankie, who lives the closest to you.

The car ride alone with him isn’t as tense as you were expecting, since his tongue has been loosened with the fair amount of alcohol he’s had tonight. You both chat easily about the upcoming week and how much you’re dreading going back to work on Monday.

You can’t resist one smart remark though, as you pull up to Frankie’s house.

“Your castle awaits, my liege,” you quip, trying and failing to hide your amused smile as you look over at him.

Frankie throws his head back and laughs freely, opening the car door with a wink.

“Goodnight, my queen,” he bows exaggeratedly before shutting the car door.

The butterflies don’t tamp down until you’re securely inside your own apartment, locking the door behind you.

That night was a month ago, which means it’s been a whole fucking month since your brain flew the coop. Every time Frankie does just about anything with his mouth, everything else around you ceases to exist.

Take last Thursday, for example. Frankie dropped by after work to help you change your porch light, since the fixture is too heavy and the light is too high up to easily reach.

He steps up the ladder with ease, unscrewing the fixture and holding it with his left hand. He puts the screwdriver in his mouth so he can hold onto the ladder as he gingerly hands you the fixture. You grab onto it and hand him the replacement bulb so he can swap them out.

He gets the lightbulb in and gestures towards you to hand the fixture back, which he screws back in before stepping down.

“Blegh,” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, an action that has your last two brain cells screeching to a halt. “Screwdrivers taste awful.”

His statement is cute, self-deprecating, and you try to respond appropriately but all you can do is gape at him like a fish out of water.

‘Get your shit together, he’s wiping off the taste of rust, not your pussy,’ you try to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor, but it does no good.

He turns back towards his toolbox to drop the screwdriver in and close the lid.

“All set,” he says, dusting off his jeans. He sounds a little uneasy, probably because you’re acting like a complete weirdo.

“Thank you so much, Frankie. I really appreciate it.” You find your manners and pull him in for a hug, secretly reveling in how good he smells.

“Any time,” he tells you as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes softly.

Before he pulls away you make a spur of the moment decision, and reach up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He’s so impossibly warm and so inviting, you can feel your heart flutter in your chest. The sparse hairs on his face tickle your chin.

Frankie clears his throat and ducks his head down, mumbling a hurried goodbye before he heads back to his truck, toolbox in hand. You don’t miss the way his lips are turned up and the crows feet make an appearance in the corner of his eyes, nor do you miss the brilliant flush that spreads over his face and down his neck.

It’s Saturday now and your torment knows no end. You decide you’re too tired to go out and opt to invite the guys over for a movie night, to which they all agree.

You decide you’ll just have to look away every time Frankie takes a sip of a drink, or eats a handful of popcorn. Or God forbid, if he licks his lips.

The group chat has been a nightmare, with everyone trying to come up with a movie to watch. Benny wants to watch The Expendables, Will mentioned something about wanting to see Dunkirk for ages now and Santi is playing devil’s advocate, disagreeing with all of their choices but not coming up with one of his own.

Frankie has been quiet in the chat, besides initially agreeing to come over initially.

It’s 9:00 PM, you have a 30 rack of beers in the fridge and some popcorn set out for everyone. All you have to do now is wait for the guys to arrive. Your phone chimes with a notification from Benny.

Benny and the Jets 🥊: Sorry lady, I got called in for a last minute practice. Raincheck?

Ironhead 🦸🏼: I gotta duck out too. The lady wants to have a date night. Sorry!

You type out a reply to them, a little disappointed but bidding them a good night all the same.

A knock sounds on the door and you rush over to answer it. The door swings open to reveal Frankie, wearing the softest looking navy blue hoodie you’ve ever seen, along with his Standard Oil cap. He looks as unsure as ever, holding a bottle of red wine.

You chirp an over-enthusiastic greeting, internally cringe at it, and step aside to welcome him in.

“I know you like red wine, so I got some for you on the way here. I hope it’s the kind you like.”

You accept the wine and look at the label. It’s a California Zinfandel. You can’t believe he remembered your favorite wine.

“I love it, thank you so much.” You pull him into a hug, nuzzling into the soft material of his sweatshirt. He returns the hug just as enthusiastically, pulling away to kiss your forehead.

“Is Santiago on his way?” You ask, padding into the kitchen to grab a glass from your cabinet. “Do you want a glass? Or I have some beer if you’d prefer.”

“Beer is perfect, thanks,” he says a little breathily as he looks over at you. “Santiago said something came up and that he’s sorry.”

Something feels a little fishy with the three of them ducking out all at the same time, but you don’t mention it as you hand him a beer and search through your drawer for a bottle opener. A few minutes later, you’re both set up on the couch and are scrolling through Netflix for a movie.

“I have no idea what to watch. Do you?”

“Want to watch Civil War? I know the guys will bitch we’re continuing the rewatch without them but they can deal.”

You tip your head back and laugh, navigating over to your Disney+ app.

Frankie takes off his hat and sets it aside while you spread a blanket over your laps, braving a chance to scoot closer to him. He takes the hint and wraps his arm behind your shoulders, nestling you closer to his chest. You settle in and try to pay attention to the movie, despite the wild fluttering that is taking place in your stomach.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably and winces a little. You can tell he’s trying to hide it, but little does he know you’ve been watching every single movement he makes like a hawk. Or a nervous lap dog.

“Does your back hurt? I can move,” you start to get up but Frankie grabs onto your wrist and pulls you back in.

“No, stay. I just need to find a comfortable position.”

You make a soft noise of surprise when he lifts you up and pulls you towards him, settling back so he’s spread out on the couch. You’re settled on top of him, your legs stretched out over his with your back to the cushion, half draped over his torso.

This position has your heart thumping hard in your chest. His face was just a few inches from yours. All he’d have to do is tilt his face towards yours, and you’d be practically kissing.

Focusing on the movie is harder than ever. Your left hand rests on Frankie’s chest and your right is near his head. Without even thinking, you reach out and start stroking your fingers through his soft curls. He hums contentedly, the pleasant sound rumbling through his chest.

A hand makes its way up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake, landing on your shoulder.

You brave a glance at Frankie and feel your heart stutter in your chest when you realize he’s been looking at you. His eyes are as dark as ever, twinkling against the flicker of your TV.

He closes the gap and captures your lips in a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft, melding to yours perfectly. The brush of your mouths together is intoxicating. Your tongue darts out to lick at him and he complies, letting out a guttural moan at the sensation as your tongues meet languidly.

You shift your leg so it slots between his and both of your hands find his shoulders and squeeze them, eliciting a soft mewl from Frankie’s mouth. His hands are hot on your back and he slides one down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh over your leggings.

Your hips press into his, rutting into him, soft pants falling from your mouth– mingling with his. You need to be closer, closer, closer. He tightens his grip on your ass in response and rolls his hips so you can feel how hard he is against your belly.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, breaking the kiss, words tumbling out between his ragged breaths.

You can feel yourself throbbing for him, wetness rushing to your core as his hushed baritone makes your head spin with need. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re convinced this is a dream. That there’s no way you’re dry humping the man of your dreams on your couch right now.

You duck down to hide your expression, not wanting to ruin the moment with your anxiety and doubt. You’ll take whatever this man gives you, even if it’s just this moment.

You busy yourself by peppering small kisses on his neck, trailing them up to his jaw.

“Hey,” he slows your movements and holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up gently up to look at him.

“I want you. I want this. Do you?”

You feel the urge to look away, his gaze is intense and laser-focused on you. Eye contact has never been your strong suit, so this was a lot for you to handle. But you fight the urge to flinch and stare back, searching to see if there was anything that will give away any trepidations. His expression remains hard set, serious but not unkind. It’s just like Frankie to have eyes as clear as day, giving away all of his secrets. They’re just like him— strong, unrelenting in their hardness and softness.

“Yes,” you reply. Your voice cracks a little, thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long.”

You feel embarrassment wash over you with the admission, but Frankie doesn’t let it last long before you crushes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He breaks it off after a moment, lips swollen and pink.

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

He strokes a hand down your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin as a goofy smile blooms over your face.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispers, his thumb catching on the swell of your bottom lip. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

You blink and swallow heavily, a fresh wave of arousal flooding to your center as the deep rasp of his voice utters those words, smooth as caramel– dousing over you like kerosene on a fire.

You nod, not trusting your voice at this very moment.

“I need you to say it out loud, honey,” he says, his lips brushing against yours ever so lightly.

“Yes, Francisco,” you breathe out. “Make me feel good.”

He bites your bottom lip and tugs, then growls playfully before he grabs your shoulders and flips you over. You let out a delighted shriek, giggling as he lifts up the hem of your shirt and kisses every inch of skin that’s revealed.

“Wait,” you call out. He stops his movements immediately. “You first.”

Frankie grins. You want to press your fingers into the dimple that appears and feel the scratch of his beard under your nails. He leans back and lifts his sweatshirt over his head, the grey t-shirt he’s wearing sticks to the inside of it and he rolls both garments down his arms.

His chest is bare to you now, smooth except for a smattering of hairs in the middle of his chest, and a patch leading down into his jeans. You want to reach out and run your hands down the planes of his torso and follow the path of hair, but your arms aren’t long enough to reach.

You remove your shirt, leaving you in your leggings and bra. It’s a soft lace number, a delicate pink with no underwire. You watch as his hungry gaze roams over your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t motion for you to take it off. Instead, he leans over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He moves downwards, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your neck. He continues his path and mouths between your breasts, one of his hands reaches out to squeeze the plump flesh in his large hand. You nipple instantly pebbles under his ministrations and he pulls the fabric aside to tease it with the pad of his finger. You moan softly at the sensation and yelp in surprise when he sucks it into his mouth and bites it, soothing the sharp sting with a flick of his tongue.

“Mmm, love how responsive you are already,” he hums, moving down. Your back arches as his mouth makes a hot trail down the rest of your torso. You look down and notice he’s left wet patches where his mouth has been, coating you in saliva and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He reaches the waistband of your leggings and pushes them down, letting out a strangled groan when he gets an eyeful of your panties, the same shade of pink that matches the bra you’re wearing.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathes.

He peels your panties down your legs and pulls them off along with your leggings, leaving you completely bare from the bottom down. You start to cross your legs to hide yourself, feeling self-conscious at how exposed you are, but Frankie grabs your thigh to halt the movement.

“You better not hide this pretty pussy from me,” he says, licking his lips.

You half expect him to dive in, but he takes a moment to look at you. He’s resting a hand on your hip. His pointer finger makes a path down, tracing an invisible line up and down your slit. You hiss at the ghost of his touch and thrust your hips towards his hand, seeking out more friction.

Frankie lets out an amused chuckle at your reaction and leans forward to plant a wet kiss to your inner thigh. You let out a shaky breath in anticipation– your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. He kisses up your thigh until he reaches the apex between your legs, then licks a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue, pulling a surprised gasp from your parted lips.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can’t help it– you buck up into his mouth and grab onto his hair and tug at the strands. He grabs onto the flesh of your hip and whimpers into your pussy. Despite being almost dizzy with need, you feel a rush of power knowing you have this effect on him.

“You taste so fucking good. So wet for me,” he punctuates his words with bold licks up and down. “Never want to stop.”

He changes patterns, making tight circles on your clit with his tongue. The sudden switch has you mewling and your legs clamp around his head involuntarily. Frankie grabs your thighs and wrenches them apart, hooking them over his shoulders as he latches onto your pussy. His hands are on your ass, holding you up as your back arches off the couch.

All you can do is scramble at the cushions below you for purchase as Frankie buries his face into your cunt, lapping at you with abandon. His tongue licks into you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before; it has you seeing stars.

You have no idea how he knows exactly how to manipulate your body to pull the pleasure from you so naturally. Every lick feels like it’s searching for treasure, every suck hits somewhere deep inside, reverberating through the muscles of your thighs and up in your abdomen.

He gently places you back down to the cushions and rubs at your entrance with his pointer finger, looking up at you for permission.

“Yes, please–“ you whimper brokenly. He complies immediately and plunges it into you, following with a second finger, and curls them up. His pace is slow at first and he flicks his tongue out to play with your clit at the same time. He’s soon spurred on by your moans and sets a brutal pace. You once again feel the urge to clamp around him to increase the pressure, but Frankie uses his broad shoulders to hold your thighs apart.

Seeing his shoulders, bare and perspiring from his intensive movements, so wide and flushed, coupled with the furrow of his brow, his eyes pinched closed, makes something primal within you awaken. You barely have time to feel your orgasm coming before it’s hitting you– thighs shaking, back arching, hands in his hair. You don’t even realize it, but you;’re shrieking his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s groaning in reply, milking you through it with his fingers and tongue, lapping up your release, syrupy sweet and indulgent.

He doesn’t stop until you’re flinching from overstimulation. He kisses up your body lazily, taking his time before capturing your lips. You kiss him back, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. He grinds into you, his jean-clad erection rubs against your aching cunt and rekindles the fire, molten heat shooting through your entire body.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” he says, panting the words into your mouth.

You moan and break the kiss.

“Want to take this to my room?”

He doesn’t reply, but instead swings his body off the couch and picks you up bridal-style. He stumbles a little with the first steps and you both laugh, kissing each other with each step he takes towards your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed softly and you let loose another delighted giggle when Frankie flops over you dramatically, caging you in his arms. Your tongues tangle together in an impossibly sensual kiss. He’s momentarily distracted, caught up in the feel of your body underneath his with the soft touches of your tongue, and you take the opportunity to roll him over and straddle his hips.

Frankie is looking up at you as if he’s in awe, like he can’t believe you’re here right now, naked from the waist down and grinding down on his hard cock, tenting his jeans.

You move down his body and zip his fly down, pushing down the denim along with his boxer briefs. His cock springs free, hard and hot and leaking at the tip. You can’t help but lick the bead of precum, and a broken whine rips from Frankie’s throat. His hands are clenched into the sheets, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the mattress beneath him.

You’re bobbing your mouth up and down his length, tongue licking around his shaft and cheeks hollowing out. His moans are loud, constant. He’s babbling praise, telling you how fucking amazing your mouth feels, how badly he wants to fuck you. It’s a heady feeling, bringing a strong and quiet man to his knees like this. You love that he’s letting you know how much he’s breaking for you.

Your tongue finds its way down to his balls and you suck them into your mouth, moaning at the musky taste. His moans are high pitched now and his hand is squeezing your shoulder.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he grabs onto your hair to pause your movements. “I need to feel you.”

You give him one last broad lick up his shaft and shift back up, and look down at Frankie to catalogue the number you’ve done on him. He’s absolutely wrecked– brown eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breaths.

You remove your bra, stretching it over your head and throwing it to the side. Frankie follows the movement and lets out a needy, staccato moan at the sight of you, completely bare before him.

You reach down and kiss him soundly on the mouth, lining his cock up with your entrance.

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” you coo, sinking down on his length.

“Fuck,” he grits out between his teeth.

You give yourself a moment to get used to his size and rock into him. His hands fly up to your chest, squeezing lightly and rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“So fucking big,” you pant out. “So good for me.”

It seems Frankie loves praise as much as you do, evidenced by the twitch of his cock inside you.

Your pace is agonizingly slow. You’re trying to tease out the moment, stretch it out so it lasts forever. It doesn’t last long– you can’t stand it anymore. You bounce up and down on him, snapping your hips when they meet his.

“So fucking perfect,” he pants out. “Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You breathe out a moan and stop your movements. Frankie mistakes your pause for hesitation and reaches up to brush the hair out of your face.

“We don’t have to,” he says, voice gentle, brow furrowed in concern.

“No, fuck. No, Frankie. I want to.”

You gingerly get up and whimper at the loss when he’s no longer inside you. Frankie sits up, shoulders rocking forward and cock bobbing with his movement as he settles onto his knees. You watch him and bite your lip, getting on all fours and lifting your ass up in the air to present yourself to him.

Frankie can’t help the groan that falls from his lips and sinks forward to lay an open-mouthed kiss on your pussy from behind before he lines himself up. He enters you without hesitation, hips slapping against your ass rhythmically, setting a decisively fast pace.

All you can hear is the filthy sounds of your wet pussy as he pounds into you, along with your strangled moans, and his heavy breathing, laced with whispers of praise you can’t discern. The waves of pleasure are too much, too strong. You can feel the familiar build up of an orgasm. Your head is in the clouds as it climbs and climbs– then crashes.

His fingers on your clit is what does you in. Your whole body shakes and all you can do is whimper and moan around his cock while he fucks into you. The strong, practiced rock of his hips become sloppy as he chases his release, muttering words of adoration into the air as he pulls out and cums, spilling onto your back. He pulls every last drop out of his cock before collapsing over you, forehead resting on your spine as he catches his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “Should have done this ages ago.”

You both laugh and Frankie gets up to grab a wet face towel from the bathroom

A little while later, you’re both in bed, blissed out and wrapped up around each other. The movie, drinks and snacks are all forgotten. All that matters is here and now– your breaths mingling together as you kiss each other lazily, tongues probing slowly.

In the other room, both of your phones ping on the coffee table with unheard notifications.

The first text is from Santiago.The other boys follow suit, not a minute apart.

Pope 🤦🏻‍♂️: 👑

Benny and the Jets 🥊: 👑

Ironhead 🦸🏼: 👑

Neither of you see the texts until the next morning.

The following weekend, it’s Santiago’s turn to be the designated driver. He’s parked outside of Frankie’s house, waiting to pick both of your asses up. He starts to tap his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel after the first 15 minutes.

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” He asks Will and Benny. They all know the answer, but don’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Frankie has you crowded against the front door, your sundress is hiked up and his face is buried in your pussy. Neither of you can hear the sound of Santi’s impatient honking over your moans.

And if you end up going to the bar sans panties because you can’t find them before Santiago is pounding his fist on the door, well that’s just a secret you and Frankie will have to keep.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen

#frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales pilot of my heart #all hail francisco morales pussy eating king

1K notes · View notes

konmaao3 · 2 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday #2: Silence in the Dark

(pure angst. First chapter of a short story that will eventually have a happy ending)

Breathe. Move. Fight.

He had to fight. Move. Breathe. Desperately so. And he struggled, focused, summoning all his willpower … but could not even twitch a single finger, couldn’t stand up, draw a rune, do anything meaningful. Not that being able to move would have put him in a good position. Callum’s hands were chained to his back, and he was alone, in a dark passage somewhere underground where the sky didn’t reach him, alone … with Claudia and her elf friend who was dragging the prince along.

“Hh,” Callum wheezed. Breathing was hard, painful, as if a giant’s fist was holding him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His eyes rolled up, looking at Claudia. “Hhh.”

“The venom will wear off,” she explained, holding his gaze only for a moment before staring straight ahead again. “You’re not in danger. Give it an hour or so, and you can move again.”

“Hh.”

That was his only reply, the only answer possible. There were many things Callum would have liked to say and ask. What was she doing here? What was she planning? What did she want with him? And, most importantly, did she know anything about Rayla?

Just like his whole body, however, Callum’s tongue wasn’t his own. He couldn’t even feel it, only look at it like at a distant range of mountains. He’d have better chances moving those than his limbs. The earthblood elf dragging him over the stone floor didn’t say a thing, and Claudia fell quiet as well, carrying the torch that illuminated their way through this passage … leading where?

Not to his death apparently, judging from the words of his former friend. Instead, they eventually reached a door Claudia unlocked with a heavy key before opening it and stepping inside. The elf followed, hauling Callum into the cell and propping him up against a wall. Metal clinked softly while he closed a chain around one of the prince’s ankles. There would be no easy escape from here, and Callum’s heart grew heavy at the thought what that might mean.

Would someone ever find him? Would Ezran and the others learn of his fate? Or would he just disappear without a trace, never to be seen or heard of again? He knew how it felt to be left behind like that, and he didn’t wish it on anybody else – yet here he was, captured, helpless, hopeless.

“I … I hope you understand,” Claudia said, fidgeting with the clasp of her bag. “It’s not comfortable here but I need to keep you safe, and … You’ll understand. In time.”

But he wasn’t listening any more, for she had stepped to the side, allowing him to see more of the dark cell that was to be his prison. And a desperate gasp escaped his throat when he realized that they were not alone here, that another captive was lying on the other side of the cell, sleeping … sleeping, surely sleeping!

“Hhhh!” the prince moaned, relief and terror in equal measure rushing through his veins.

Even in the dim, flickering light of the single torch he recognized her.

Rayla.

His Rayla.

His moon and love and hope. There could be no mistake. She was there, she was here, she was alive, alive!

And he could feel tears welling in his eyes. She had changed, and not for the better. Only skin and bones now, with barely a stubble of hair left on her scalp, clad in what could just as well be a turnip sack. On her arm there was a long scar that Callum’s brain wanted to call hideous and, because it belonged to Rayla, beautiful at the same time.

“Hhhh!” He stared at her, the first tear trickling down his cheek, rolled his eyes towards Claudia, looked at Rayla again, at Claudia, at Rayla. Trying to communicate, to say something, anything, “Hhhhh!”

The dark mage looked back and forth between her two prisoners.

“Yes, she came here quite some time ago. You remember her?”

“Hhhh!”

Remember her? No day went by without thinking of her, worrying about her, wishing to be with her, to be back together. For two years he had lived with a heart torn to pieces, hoping against all odds that they would be reunited soon. One day.

And here they were, but it was their darkest hour. More tears came, and if his body had been capable of sobbing and shaking, it would have done so now. Only a soft moan could escape, however … and his tears. Claudia frowned.

“Are you crying? Because of … her?”

“H-hh …”

Please. Please.

He didn’t even know what his mind was begging for, except that it was about Rayla. He had missed her … so much. His body was dead and distant, and yet his heart ached, crying out in anguish when his mouth couldn’t. He wanted his Rayla. Nothing more.

“Hhh.”

Claudia. Please.

She held his gaze for a long moment, frowning, then shook her head with a sigh. She handed the torch to her elf friend and crouched down to rummage in her bag.

“We’ll talk later. But I … I can’t allow you to speak until then.”

“Hh!”

Please.

She was unearthing various items that she put to the side: a book, two glass vials – one of them containing an orb of yellow light –, several plants and animal parts Callum couldn’t identify, a bottle, and finally another … ingredient that she had apparently been looking for.

Opening the empty vial, she took it in one hand, the component in another.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

Claudia …

They had been friends. For such a long time. They had grown up together, dreaming of a bright future … that by now had turned into this. A nightmare in the bowels of the earth where no moon was shining, no gentle breeze blowing. And there was nothing Callum could do to stop her, because there was nothing he could do at all when she crushed the component and performed the spell.

“Eciov eht laets!”

He had even seen it once before. A snake of green smoke came towards him, a tiny claw at its end that dove into his mouth, wriggling, searching, and then … grasping.

For the moment it wouldn’t make a difference because he couldn’t talk anyway. Yet as soon as the venom wore off, he should be able to speak … But now, not any more, for when the smoke receded, it took with it an orb of …

No.

Callum’s eyes darted from one item to the next while Claudia bottled up his voice, a yellow light just like the one she already had in the other vial. Through a veil of tears he stared at Rayla again who was still sleeping, exhausted, on the other side of the cell, and then looked in Claudia’s eyes.

“Hh.”

Please.

“Sorry, Callum.” But she didn’t sound sorry. “I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, the dark mage turned away and left, followed by the earthblood elf with the torch. The door closed, and when their steps receded, even the last bit of light disappeared, leaving the prisoners in total darkness not even Rayla’s moonshadow elf eyes would be able to penetrate. More tears were running down his cheeks. He had dreamed about seeing her again, holding her again, laughing with her again. Now he was near her, but with the chain on his ankle the dozen feet between them could just as well be an ocean.

She was there, so close, but out of reach, and he knew that she was there, but … but she didn’t know of him. Couldn’t see, wouldn’t be able to hear him because his voice was gone, and so was hers. She would still be alone.

Quietly, Callum cried, for him, and his love, and her pain that he couldn’t relieve. They were there, but might as well not. It was just their bodies and … silence.

Silence in the dark.

#what all those angst teasers are turning me into ...#To be continued! (duh it’s a WIP) With a happy end!#the dragon prince #fanfic #rayllum #WIP Wednesday

19 notes · View notes

silvrmoon · 1 year ago

Text

" yes, generous is my middle name after all," how alistor manages to point it out with a serious expression on his features is beyond him, but he's quite proud of himself as he takes another sip of his drink. anyone with a pair of eyes and two functioning brain cells could tell that the brunette didn't want to spend time in his company, but he chose to ignore it. if she wanted to leave, he wasn't going to stop her, someone else probably would, though. " i don't know, to the games ? to life i suppose ? it's so wonderful, " sacarsm was once again lacing his words. the young snow stood against everything his father believed in, but he knew better than to act on his instinct. his father was a cruel man and no amount of protection from his mother would save him from the older man's wrath. piercing blue hues stay focused on the female's features after he clinks their glasses together, taking a generous sip from the glittery liquid. " so, what's new in your life, syra ? anything exciting ? a potential marriage in the horizon perhaps ? "

there was no denying that the young snow's reputation was anything but spotless. the entire capitol knew that and her family loved that about him, however messed up that was. countless jokes had been made about how she should start spending some more time with alistor as perhaps his handsome face would persuade her to loosen up a little bit. it was frustrating. the looks were the only part she could actually agree on, but the worst part was that he knew he had them, clearly. "it's always a pleasure." by now she should know how to be a better liar with the frequency she had to do that and it was obvious that the other saw right through it. her hands nervously tangled together in front of her as she didn't trust him in the slightest. the power he held in panem was not something to be underestimated. despite her daily struggles she quite liked her life and didn't want him on her bad side because he could ruin it with the snap of his fingers. "what a generous offer. how can i say no to that?" it was meant completely rhetorically and despite it being a polite reply, she really didn't have an excuse not to decline. one posca, more than that and syra would start giggling too much as she was a lightweight. taking the flute of gold-flaked liquid from the plate of one of the avoxes and holding it up towards him ready to clink their glasses. "so what are we toasting to?"

#— ♡ �� alistor snow. (interactions)#— ♡ ❛ verse. (may the odds be ever in your favor)

11 notes · View notes

cayofdreams · 4 years ago

Text

12 Nights of XXXMAS | Day 1: Breeding

Fit for a Princess

Pro-Hero!Deku x Reader

Summary: Upset at your fiance for not being able to come home on time for Christmas Eve, he makes it up to you with a gift only the likes of you could adorn. But now it’s time to fill your princess duties...

Words: 4.6k

Warnings/Tags: mirror sex, breeding, overstimulation, a dash of dumbification

Notes: uhh this was supposed to be like 2k words but then libido existed. Tagging @butterscotchbaku because their dom deku supremacy rhetoric has corrupted into my brain cells.

The view of the wintery outside was marvelous from your window. The snow painted the scenery a shimmering white, the various Christmas decorations adorning neighbor’s homes could place you directly into a wonderland, and the kids giggling and playing as they made snow angels under the street lights created the perfect picture of innocence.

Inside your home wasn’t bad either. The fire cracking at the fireplace sounded tranquil for your auditory senses, the Christmas tree in the living room gave you peaceful nostalgia from your childhood, and the smell of the sugar cookies baking in the oven was comparable to a candle from the most luxurious of department stores.

And yet, you were upset.

Or perhaps anger is the more fitting emotion dwelling over you currently. Your lover and recent fiancé, Midoriya Izuku was currently not treating you like the winter princess you deserved to be treated as. At this moment he was out doing patrols and other related hero work instead of tending to your very important needs.

What was even the point of doing all that work if his so-called ‘love of his life’ was sad, frustrated, and alone? It was easy for you to take the holidays off, granted you weren’t the #1 hero, but even still, your fiancé being in such high stature should make it easier to take days like this off, right? Surely, he was doing this to get back at you for something. After-all, he said he’d definitely be home by 4 p.m., and yet here it is closing in at 8:25 p.m, and you’ve yet to see even a text message from the man.

You even went out to get his specially crafted gift this morning so that he’d have something to look forward to on Christmas. And now you were regretting that. He didn’t deserve anything special from you after pulling a no-show on his own fiancé on Christmas Eve.

*brrrring!* *brrrring!*

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

The sound of the timer going off alerted you of the cookies being done and temporarily brought you out of your pity session. It also alerted you and Midoriya’s one-year old puppy who was always so excited to hear when it seemed food was ready.

“Calm down, Mighty. You can’t have sugar cookies, remember? They aren’t good for you.”

Quickly wrapping an apron around your waist, you tucked on the oven mitt and carefully placed the cookies from the oven to the kitchen counter.

“Arf! Arf!”

“You are so needy, aren’t you? You look like Izu but you have my personality.” You reached into the cabinet above you to grab the dog treats you stored away. Grabbing two of the biscuits, you bent down to hand them to your puppy. “Here baby, you can have these.”

Satisfied with how happily little Mighty was chopping on the treats, you decided to wait for your own treats to cool before decorating them. Going to sit down on the couch, you grabbed the remote to flick on the television, an attempt at distracting yourself from current frustrations.

A bad decision considering everything broadcasted now seemed to deal with lovers and families coming together for the holidays. The cheery smiles and rosy cheeks on the actors’ faces made you burn with jealousy as you sat fiancé-less in your home.

“Jake! You actually…you actually came back to me for the holidays!”

“Of course, I did Katherine. I wouldn’t miss spending Christmas with you for the world.”

You sucked your teeth at the overly-dramatic displays of affection, deciding to turn off the T.V. all together. Rubbing your fingers along the bridge of your nose, it seemed even Mighty took pity on you, as he jumped on the couch to snuggle his little body into yours. Picking him up and cuddling him into your chest, you fantasized about your fiancé walking through those doors. How he’d pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, peppering kissing along your face and telling you how-

*clink!*

The sound of the door unlocking made your heart jump and Mighty to jump from your arms to run to the door, barking in excitement at who’d soon walk through.

“Heheh~ Hello little Mighty. Did you take care of Y/N while I was gone?”

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

His tail wagged enthusiastically as Midoriya bent down to rub all around his ears. “You did? Such a good boy.” Standing back up, he looked at your figure still sitting on the couch, arms folded and lips formed into a pout. “I’m sorry I’m late, baby. Some things came up on the way home.” Putting down his gear by the door, he walked into the kitchen, immediately in amazement at the cookies you seemed to bake for him. “You made cookies? They smell so good, can we eat them now?”

Standing up, you hastily walked to the kitchen, grabbing away the pan of cookies before Midoriya could grab one. “No. They aren’t for you.” You placed the pan on the farther end on the kitchen counter, further symbolizing your statement.

Midoriya let out a small giggle, finding a bit of amusement in your bratty displays. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into him before squeezing you into a tight hug from behind. “That’s okay, you look and smell much better than those cookies anyways.” He attempted to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved your head away with a click of the tongue. “Plus, you look so delicious in that apron. I never get to see you look so much like a little housewife.”

You forcefully pulled yourself away from Midoriya’s embrace before placing folded arms once again under your breasts. “Well I’m not a housewife. Or a wife, it seems.”

Finding your comment to hit a bit below the waist, he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed out a puff of air, standing there briefly before brushing past him out of the kitchen. “Y/N!” Ignoring his calls, you entered the bedroom and Midoriya heard the loud shut of the door.

Deciding to give you time to calm down, Midoriya let you be as he stripped down to hop in the shower. As the hot water beat down his back, he thought about how to best analyze his current dilemma with you. He was no stranger to your more rebellious attitudes, but it seemed today you were actually pissed at him. And he could admit that you had reason to be.

This was the first holiday that the two of you were to spend together since becoming engaged. You even baked cookies for him. Wearing an apron at that. Given the amount of work you had piled up yourself throughout the year, you never really had the time to show such cute displays of love. You were probably even excited to have a couple days to play a cute housewife for him, and to you, he probably ruined that by not being home for half the day.

But you needed to understand as well. That given his position in society he couldn’t just take days off no matter how special the occasion. It didn’t matter how much previous overtime he worked, or how many villains he’d catch. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to be home with you. How badly he wanted to have you curled up in his arms, sitting by the fireplace while munching on cookies very much outside the both of yours’ diet. He wanted that just as much as you did, but what he wanted even more was to be a hero. To be your hero. And it’d take sacrifices from the both of you to continue to be that.

As Midoriya stepped out of the shower, he dried himself off with one of the fancy towels you must have recently decorated the bathroom with for the holidays. Chuckling to himself, he put on a pair of pajama pants and went to retrieve a bag that he left under his gear. As he opened the door to the master bedroom, he was met with your curled up back, the light of the phone screen illuminating your side profile.

“You know…it’s still just Christmas Eve, babe.” Midoriya approached the side of the bed, placing the small gift bag on the dresser. “We still have Christmas to spend with each other.”

Continuing to face away from him, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. “Christmas Eve has the word ‘Christmas’ in it. So that makes it Christmas. Which means you missed Christmas, Izuku.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. You’re a hero yourself, so you know how demanding this life is.”

“I-…I know. I just- I just wore something so special today and it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Wore?

“Doesn’t matter anymore? There’s still a couple hours of Christmas Eve, Y/N.” His words seemed to fall on deafened ears as you stayed silently scrolling on your phone. Sighing, Midoriya pulled out a long black box from the gift bag and held it in his hand. “So, you don’t want your Christmas present?”

His lips curled into a smile at how your head perked up from the mention of a gift. “I was going to wait until the Christmas that is tomorrow but since you’re so upset, I’ll give it to you tonight.” Despite a stern exterior, Midoriya truly thought you were like a puppy. So whiney and mean until you got the treat you felt like you earned. Well today was training day.

“You got me a gift, Izu?” You straightened up to sit on the edge of the bed, curious eyes falling from his shirtless physique to the long black box in his hand. The velvety material informed you that this was no ordinary gift. “What is it?”

“Something only fit for a princess.” Your lips started to match Midoriya’s curled ones as you jumped up and got closer to him. Your hand started to reach for the box before he held away from your reach.

“I said only fit for a princess.”

“I- I am a princess! C’mon let me see it~!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. You didn’t even share any cookies with me…”

“They’re your cookies! All of them! Lemme see, lemme see!”

Midoriya continued to keep the box from your reach, finding your switching between excitement and pouting to be cute. “You said you wore something special, right? And as beautiful as you look in those pajamas, I’m sure that’s not what you were referring to.”

You fiddled with the first button on your top, your facial expression becoming more flustered. “But…I’ve been wearing it for some hours now. I probably wore out that new feel to it…”

“Good. It probably matches your smell now.”

After hesitating for a brief period, you finally undid the first button, slowly continuing to undress yourself. Midoriya watched with a quiet gaze, still clutching onto the box in hand. After unbuttoning the top, you slipped off your pajama pants before sliding off the top, fully revealing your gift to him.

“Wow…” You were wearing a dark green lingerie, specially made in order to hug you in all the right areas. Midoriya could tell by the side cut-outs on your stomach that it was designed to mimic his hero-costume. The lacy garter and its belt accentuated your waist and thighs even more than they naturally did on their own.

But the perfect icing on the cookie was simply your face. The way that even the dim bedroom light seemed to make your e/c eyes glimmer in illumination. How your pouty lips formed the perfect bow. And best of all, how despite that pout, you still seemed to look innocent to him. Most days you looked more sexy or daring. But tonight, despite such erotic attire, to Midoriya you never looked more cute.

“Do you like it…?”

Midoriya put the box down on the vanity, meeting your reply with rough hands that massaged all around your body. The little whimpers that left your lips as he squeezed softly at your laced breasts sounded like carols in his ears. “You really are a princess,… princess.”

“T-That’s what I said. Can I have my gift now…my green-haired prince?”

Midoriya chuckled as he guided you by the waist to stand directly in front of the vanity’s mirror. He hands continued to roam and squeeze around your body as he looked at your reflection. “My princess can have whatever she wants. Just let me see all of you, baby.”

You slowly took the box in your hand, firstly inspecting the exterior. The velvet felt so soft in your hands, a savory compliment with the rough caresses from your fiancé. Carefully opening it, the shimmering of the contents greeted your eyes as Midoriya’s lips greeted the tenderness of your neck.

It was a headband. But not just any headband. An elegant one; fully decorated in the most precious of diamonds. You even recognized the rare diamond cut as being the same kind as the one adorning your ring finger currently. The shine of its beauty bouncing off the dim lamp’s light brought a tear to your eye.

“I figured since you’re my princess, you deserved the finest of crowns.” Midoriya’s hands slipped down your arms to cradle your hands that were clutching tightly on the velvet box. “Should I crown you?”

You silently nodded, wiping a stray tear that streamed down your cheek. Looking into the mirror, you saw your fiancé once again embellish you with diamonds. The bejeweled headband seated snuggly around your head, you couldn’t help but feel like you were truly wearing a crown. “It’s so beautiful, Izuku…” Your eyes shifted to Midoriya’s, who was looking at your reflection with the merriest of smiles.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder before looking back at you. “Only because you’re wearing it, princess.” His hands slid down to your waist, squeezing at your laced flesh. “I think it’s only right for you to do your princess duties now, Y/N.”

You shifted your head sideways to side-eye your fiancé quizzingly. “What do you mean? What duties?”

Midoriya kissed your neck once more as he slid one hand over your lacy garter, into your panties. He slowly rolled his fingers around your folds, pleased with how you were already a little wet for him. He could thank your materialism for that. “It’s only right for you to make an heir.”

“N-No way…”

“You don’t want children with me, Y/N?”

Midoriya’s question rang through your ear as his fingers slickly circled your clit. “You want children with me?”

You felt a puff of air hit your skin as Midoriya softly chuckled at your question. “Well…It’d be a lie to say I haven’t thought of filling you up with puppies. And tonight-“ Midoriya slipped a finger inside your pussy, curving it to graze right against your g-spot. “You looked so damn cute in that apron. If I were home to see you baking cookies in that, you’d already be plump with my future children.”

Midoriya slipped another finger inside, using the pad of his hand to continue stimulating your throbbed clit. “Izu~!” His other hand slithered up to your breast, squeezing and twisting at your nipple from outside its lacy barrier.

“Look at yourself, princess.” Your eyes that had drifted to the vanity’s surface aligned back at their reflection. The headband atop your head shimmered beautifully through the mirror. “Imagine how stretched out that garter will get when your tummy swells with my kid.”

A sinful moan escaped you, the thought of having Midoriya’s children starting to lustily plague your mind. As he continued playing with your sponge like an instrument, you felt your stomach bulge with an oncoming orgasm. “I-Izuku~ ! Gonna cum!” And right on queue it seemed, Midoriya had quickly slipped his fingers out of you, your whine sounding as beautiful as your crown.

“Not yet, Y/N. I researched that its better to cum closer to when a person’s semen is ejaculating inside the womb. It increases chances of impregnation.”

Catching your breath from your failed orgasm, you bent down so your face hovered over the vanity’s surface. With your back elegantly arched, your ass pressed against the hardness of Midoriya’s cock that stood proudly inside his pajama pants. Reaching your hand behind you, you slipped your fingers under the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side. Your puffy lips looked so soft, and your drenched hole seemed to wait achingly for your fiancé to fill it. “T-Then ejaculate, you nerd~”.

Licking his lips, Midoriya freed his cock from his pants, giving it a couple jerks as he admired the view of your pussy. Noticing some of your juices were drooling onto the floor, he placed the head of his cock under you, collecting your leaking before rubbing along your folds. He teased you by poking the tip at your clit, relishing in your whine-filled moans that reverberated in his ears. “My princess is so fucking gorgeous.” He slipped the tip in, your entrance now hugging him tightly around the head. “Gonna look even more gorgeous with my child taking up all the room in that tummy.”

As he sunk his cock in, the stinging stretch of it made you impulsively tighten your walls even more around him. “Oh my god- Izuku~!” There was never a time where the thickness of Midoriya’s cock didn’t take you by a slightly painful surprise. When he was half-way in, he paused to check in after your thighs started to quiver. He noticed your lull in breathing as you held your breath in.

“Breathe, baby.” He reached his hand around your thigh to twiddle with your clit. “You need a little help? Don’t worry.” You nodded, succumbing to the onslaught of pleasure brought on by Midoriya’s fingers. “You always struggle to take my cock at first.” The sounds of your moans filled the bedroom as your stretched pussy relaxed around his cock. “But then you end up taking me- “. Feeling you grow slicker with each flick at your clit, Midoriya slowly sunk the entirety of his cock inside you. “-All the way to the hilt.”

His balls softly slapped against your clit and your walls twitched around him. With fingernails scratching against the surface, you looked behind you to meet his lustful green eyes. “You- You’re all the way in?”

He replied with a chuckle before bringing his hand toward your face, squishing your cheeks tenderly between his fingers. “That’s right. Look-“ Guiding your face to look back into the mirror, he started to gently thrust inside you. “Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. My cock fits so snug inside my princess.”

“Ohh shit~ Izuku-!” Midoriya’s increased his pace, his cock seeming to grow even more at how your silky pussy hugged around him. “You’re getting biggerrr~! Feels good!” You started to jerk your hips back to meet his thrusts, now balancing yourself on your forearms that rested on the vanity.

“Are you going to cum? Going to get your womb nice and ready for me?” Midoriya wrapped his scarred hands around the sides of your waist, squishing hard enough for your fat to plunge through his fingers. “Keep looking at your beautiful face in the mirror, Y/N. I want to see and hear you call my name when you cum.”

Midoriya pumped his cock vigilantly inside you while your pussy fluttered pleasingly around him. You looked at yourself in the mirror, in awe at how drunkenly you had become for him. The elegant band that was fit on your head was practically a juxtaposition against your lecherous facial expressions. Your mouth gaped open for delirious moans to pour out, while saliva drooled down your chin onto the vanity. Certainly no proper look for a princess you thought.

As the head of Midoriya’s cock plunged against your spongy sweet spot, your hands gripped at the edge of the vanity, desperate for stability. “Izukuuu…~”

“Go ahead, princess. Please cum for me.”

You tried to keep looking at your reflection but your eyes drifted to the back of your head as the pressure of your orgasm swelled inside your core. “I’m cumming~! Izuku! I’m cumming~!”

The feeling of your pussy convulsing around Midoriya’s cock made him grunt as he reached his own orgasm. His fingernails dug into your flesh, almost breaking skin while his thrusts became more jerky and erratic. “Fuck! Y/N- You feel so good-! Gonna cum inside you-!”

You felt the warm thickness of his cum filling you inside, his cock pulsating with every spurt. He slowly slid in and out of you as he calmed down and his grip around your waist softened. Regaining his breath, he slipped completely out of you, a bit of his cum dripping out as well. He slipped his hands under your chest to stand you up before gently gripping you behind the neck to pull you into a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy and wet as you were too in-the-clouds to pay attention where you moved your tongue. You simply whined as he sucked on the pink muscle, gripping on his bicep to maintain your balance. Midoriya lapped up the drool from your chin before licking at the inside of your mouth again.

Finally separating his lips from yours, he gave a squeeze to your ass before pushing you down on the bed. “Are you ready to be bred, princess?” He cradled his hands under your knees, pushing them up to be positioned by your breasts.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his question. “B-But you just came. You came inside…”

He chuckled as he rubbed the tip of cock along your folds, gathering up the drooly mix of your juices and his seeped cum. “You didn’t think one time would be enough, did you? We have to make sure you get completely filled up, Y/N. Otherwise the chances of you getting pregnant won’t be so high.”

He sunk his cock inside of you again, the new mating-like position making it so his cock aimed directly against your now tender g-spot. The oversensitivity of it make you whine loudly as your hands reactively came up to press against his abs, attempting to slow him down. “Its-! Its too sensitive right now-! Wait a second~”

Midoriya shushed you as he took one of your hands in his, placing it beside your head as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Ssshh…You’re not supposed to be bratty anymore, remember?” His balls pressed against your ass as he filled you once more all the way to the hilt. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix made a high-pitched moan leave your lips. “You took it so well before, so just do it one more time, okay?”

His hips grinded against yours as he took slow and deep thrusts inside your pussy. The feeling would have been sensual if it wasn’t for your current high levels of sensitivity. You could feel the head of his cock glide against each rib of your pussy’s walls before softly poking your cervix. The fingers that were entangled with your fiancé’s tightened with each thrust. “M-My cervix~ Too fucking big~”

Midoriya leaned down to press delicate kisses around your face, admiring how your moans were now sent directly into his ear. “I’ll be careful, okay? I can move how I want as long as I don’t hit it, right?” You nodded, a bit nervous at the foreshadowing question.

Midoriya straightened his torso, his hands finding their place back on your thighs as he put all nearly all his weight on you. Taking his cock almost entirely out of you, he quickly submerged it back inside, making sure to stop before he hit your wall. Although not reaching your cervix, he still made sure to properly grind against your g-spot, making your pussy even soppier than before.

His cock plummeting in and out of your pussy made squelching noises as the creamy mixture of your fluids spurt out on your thighs. Your hands wrapped around his forearms, fingernails scratching against the flesh. Your breathing became harsh pants as your tongue lolled out from between your lips. You feel yourself about to reach another orgasm and the throbbing of Midoriya’s cock told you he was at the same state.

“You-You’re gonna make me cum again~!”

“Me too, Princess. Are you going to take more of my cum?”

Nodding profusely, you focused on the growing bulge inside your stomach. “Y-Yeahh~!!” Bringing your hands up to his muscled shoulders, you looked euphorically into his green eyes. “Kiss me! Please~!”

Without any hesitation, Midoriya leaned down chest-to-chest, sloshing his tongue with yours. Saliva trailed down your cheeks as you mingled your fingers in his curly locks. His cock now hitting you in deeper places, your pleasure would override the kissing at your cervix. As you came around his cock, you felt once again the hot spills of Midoriya’s semen filling your womb. You moaned whinefully into his mouth as he continued to slowly thrust into you. The lubrication of his cum making his strokes slicker.

Ending the kiss, Midoriya wrapped his arms around your back, cupping your body into him as he started to pound into your pussy once more. The pleasurable feeling was too intense, making you barely able to think anymore. “F-Fuughh~!! Ijhuku!!”

“Just one more time, princess. Okay?” His thrusts now shallow and deep, you became lost in delirium as his cock relentlessly plundered into your pussy. “Wow, look- You’re feeling good even when I’m hitting your cervix, aren’t you? Taking me this deep- You’re going to be so full of my kids.”

“I-Ijhukuz babieess~!!”

“Heh~ If only we were still by the mirror, you could see how you look right now, all drunk from my cum.” He reached his thumb down circle at your clit, making your pussy clench around him in reaction. “Gosh, can you hear how mushy you are, princess? You’re so fucking soft inside. So perfect for me.”

“Guh-Guhmming~!!” Desperate to seek a break from the continuous pounding against your overstimulated sponge, you squirmed your hips around, pushing your hands against Midoriya’s shoulders in attempt to escape his grasp.

“Just hold still, okay? I’m- I’m almost there-“ Grunting behind gritted teeth, he wrapped his powerful arms around your head to further lock you in place.

“Haaahh~! Ijhuuu-!” Your thighs quaked intensively at Midoriya’s more rapid and deep thrusts as he chased his final orgasm. Pitchy and incoherent babbles filled his ears, further gratifying his desires. “Y-Yur cumm~ Sho full-! Sho full of- Ijhukuz cum~! Sho muchh~!”

“Oh fuck, princess. Your pussy and voice- Fuck! So cute-!” Midoriya’s pants became erratic and gaspy as his cock throbbed inside you. With a couple of longer and harsher strokes he finally released the last of his load inside your womb, a bit of it seeping out onto the bed from there not being much room for more.

Without slipping out of you, Midoriya straightened his back, smiling while he looked at your blissed-out face. He maneuvered your leg to the other side of his hip so that you’d be rested on your side. Laying down with his chest against your back, his hands caressed the area below your stomach, admiring how plump it became with his cum.

“I can’t wait to see how you beautiful you look in the next few months…” Peering at your side profile, he noticed you were deep in slumber. Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he gave a couple of gentle strokes, as if verifying that his cum was properly preserved inside you. Satisfied, he cradled his arm under your head, continuing to stroke your stomach lovingly as he closed his eyes.

“But we’ll have fun until then won’t we, princess?”

Taglist (if your name is unlinked, I was unable to tag): @bnha-free-writing @amelietheslut @waifutiddies

#deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero!midoriya x reader #pro hero!deku x reader #midoriya smut #izuku smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #12 days of xxxmas #12 days of kinkmas #xxxmas #kinkmas #🎁 cay's xxxmas 2020

1K notes · View notes

behindyourbarrette · 3 years ago

Text

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky.

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon.

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #disco writes #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #fic writing #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds self insert

286 notes · View notes

yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years ago

Text

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #amajiki tamaki #mha smut #my hero smut #suneater #suneater smut #mha suneater #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha suneater #tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #mha tamaki #tentacles #big three #fatgum

823 notes · View notes