#HOWEVER. what if you’re perfectly fine & well off and sex work is something you can do in your free time

[gloopdimension]

ages ago on my main i got an ask telling me i should stop giving so many characters sex work swag bc i was making light of the struggle sex workers go through when they work. or something.j

[cuckette]

NYMPHOMANIA !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. daddy-daughter incest, femcel reader :3, reader wants to get raped so she talks about that, dub-con for like a paragraph, suicidal thoughts, awful thoughts in general, tiny bit of somno, threats, spanking, slapping

note. HAII :3 back on my femcel shit… god i rewrote this like 15 times and restarted over and over so i hate this 😭 it’s clunky so ignore any mistakes!!! feedback n rbs always so appreciated <3 was thinking of og4 leon but.. honestly idk atp !! anyway sorry again for the slow decrease in quality in this .. title has nothing to do w the fic ack ok bye :3

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

There are two things you want to get off your chest.

You are not, under any circumstances, ugly. Your face just takes getting used to. (This is a cope.)

You have a crush on your dad. No excuse for this one. Cupid is a conniving bastard. That’s that.

These might not seem like related issues, but they most certainly are because being ugly is hard, and having a crush on your dad is equally as hard.

You’re a sweet girl, you didn’t choose to come out ugly, it’s not your fault you turned out this way. It’s unfair, but ultimately no one meant for it to happen

(Well, you hope no one meant for it to happen unless someone had a vendetta against your mother and cursed her firstborn. She’s an irritating lady, you can see why someone would do so.)

You won’t even be the kind of below-average woman who marries a mediocre man to have mediocre sex to make mediocre kids to live in caustic mediocrity. You have one friend, she’s an online friend, and she might be a lonely old man. To be entirely honest you would prefer that. ‘Cause that would mean someone out there wants to creep on you.

If you weren’t ugly, having a crush on your dad would be socially acceptable. That’s why daddy-daughter porn spans pages and pages and pages of Pornhub. Everyone loves to watch a busty, blonde slut on her dad’s dick. If you didn’t have a crush on your dad, being ugly would be perfectly fine— No, that’s wrong.

Being ugly is never fine. Being ugly is on the same level as being a rapist. Being ugly in the presence of people who are objectively not ugly is, like, worse than being a rapist. ‘Cause all the dudes in high school were rapists in the making. Ted Bundy-style shit.

Grope an ugly bitch in the bathrooms and she wouldn’t speak up, and if she did— She just wouldn’t actually. Would be burnt at the stake Salem style. Hung. Crucifixion perhaps. Ugly girls aren’t good enough to die like martyrs did, however. Especially not ugly girls who cry wolf.

Why on God’s green earth would a hot guy go out of his way to slap a freaky-looking girl’s ass, right? Got girls lined up down the halls waiting for him to sign their perky tits, he doesn’t need to rape. It must be wishful thinking on her part, right? A wet dream she took as reality.

Why would you say that? Do you want to throw what he’s worked for down the drain? Accusations like this, they’re not jokes, y’know that? He’s got a scholarship, college wouldn’t take something like this so lightly.

Aw, you miss her. This goth chick in senior year. Your sorta friend. When it all went down and she had nowhere else to go, you invited her over because you’re a nice girl with no nefarious intentions. None at all. When she lay beside you at night, and she opened up, and she thanked you for believing her, you totally did not have your hand in your panties. And you totally did not rub yourself raw while she spoke about it in excruciating detail. You did not treat her rape case as erotica.

The dude got away with it of course. He was on TV the other day in fact. NFL. Baltimore Ravens. Still stupid hot. God, you wish it was you he picked - wouldn’t have told a single soul. Would’ve sucked the sweat from his jockstrap without complaint.

You’re too repulsive to be touched or raped, and you’ve learnt to live with that. Passing out in alleyways would result in rapists who frequent the area to avoid those very alleyways. Only your hand knows the cushiony softness of your tits, the wetness between your legs, how great your mouth feels— Only your dildo knows that, but you can imagine it’s good. You’re a total catch. A nympho. Men love nymphos when they’re pretty, which you are not. So you’re a nympho without the sex appeal. So in other words you are a pervert. A degenerate. A fucking freak.

It’s time to start sticking your fingers down your throat. ‘Cause that’s what gorgeous girls do to achieve that grave-robbed look. Heroin chic. Modelesque. It’s all the same type of beautiful. Emaciated and sickly. Dead girls are the sexiest ‘cause they can’t say yes or no and if there’s no no then it’s a yes. A nymphetic loophole of sorts. Men love dead girls that double as nymphos. Unfortunately, you are well and alive. Walking into traffic seems like fun, but you would be classed as roadkill, and it wouldn’t be tragically beautiful, just embarrassing to get scraped off the concrete like that. Even in death, you would be ugly because you are ugly to your very core. Your bone marrow is so ugly no scientist would want to make stem cells out of it, polynucleotides so deformed— You’re ugly. No need to wax poetic about it. Nothing poetic about being ugly.

Dad is the closest a human being can get to perfection. A divine image. Michelangelo is, like, dead and gone. David should've died alongside him. Dad deserves to take his place in the Accademia Gallery. With the way people gawk at him, he might as well be art. You’re surprised he doesn’t sell tickets to merely exist in his presence. He’s hot like a Calvin Klein model, and mom is hot like a regular model. Due to how you’ve turned out, you have a few qualms with your mother.

Like, what the fuck happened to you in her womb? Did someone take a mallet to one side of her belly to ensure her child came out as asymmetrical as one can be? A lack of nutrients maybe? Was she dieting during the pregnancy? Did dad fuck her too hard? Busted her womb up or some shit.

It simply might be that two rights make a wrong.

Or you were a tester before she popped your siblings out. Little ichor-filled putto. They were child models, scouted in their diapers, and you would stand behind your mother and the cameraman so hurt you couldn’t even feel jealous. Now they’re all grown up, fully-fledged erotes, and they’re working and doing all this shit you still haven’t managed to get a grasp on. Navigating the world as an ugly bitch is terribly hard.

Rape kinks are developed, dads get crushed on - awful, terrible things happen when girls are ugly and alone and unable to leave the comfort of their bedrooms.

Pretty girls have daddy issues that are dealt with in standard pretty girl fashion - finding emotionally unavailable, salt-and-pepper-haired men to fill every hole, including the one in their doll hearts. The thing is pretty girls don’t go for their dads. ‘Cause a lot of the time dads are gross. Dads do not look like your dad does. And to be fair you don’t exactly have daddy issues. Your dad is present and he doesn’t hit or shout or do anything out of the norm. Maybe this is a you issue.

It is a you issue, not even an ugly girl issue or an any type of girl issue. It’s your issue and yours alone.

It is your issue that when Leon asks what you want for dinner you almost ask for his hand around your throat or his hand in marriage. Either would be fine. Both would be preferred.

Severing your relationship would be even better. Goddamn, girls with absent fathers are lucky. You wish he was anything but your dad— It’s just that if you weren’t his daughter, dad wouldn’t ever look your way, he would pass by you like every man does.

Dad is a busy guy, and he’s a strange guy in the sense that he’s never really bothered with you. He loves your sister, and he loves your brother. But everyone loves those two. You don’t think he likes you very much, you can deal with that. Doesn’t mean you have daddy issues ‘cause no one likes you very much. So it’s a you issue and you should try harder.

Leon’s home early today. He’s collapsed on the couch, withered into himself like he always is after business trips. Mom said not to disturb him. You don’t. Then you do. This is like crack to you. Dad.

More specifically, dad without mom hovering over him. Dad’s sleeping so your brain is not stewed by his intense gaze. It only ever lingers on you for merely a second, but your stomach flips like you’ve got appendicitis and your legs spread involuntarily.

He’s a light sleeper, you’re well aware. He’s also a living, breathing Ken doll so you don’t put much thought into it when you reach out to ghost your fingers along the bridge of his nose. So pointy it could pierce your clit. Your clit. His nose. Oh, it could work so well, you want to grind yourself to mush against it.

Until dad shifts, he’s so beautiful up close you almost forget he’s real, not a wax figure. You trace the straight edge of his jaw, then thumb his petal lips, dragging your pointer finger over the fuller bottom one to push the tip into his wet mouth. Your dad is a slut. ‘Cause he sucks for a good second or two. Heat licks at your insides. You might vomit. His spit glistens like cobwebs when you take it back. That hand is shoved down your pants. That finger finds your clit, uses what spit is left to get it nice and wet. Which is totally unneeded, you’ve been soaked since god knows when, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.

Feels good knowing that a part of dad is in you, his spit pushed into your hole. You’ll give him something back, it’s only fair, you smear your slick on the spot you traced. His tongue pokes out, likely to combat dry mouth, it swipes along his bottom lip— He tastes you. Heat engulfs you, chars your body from the inside out, the scent of rotting meat is in your nostrils.

Dad tasted you.

Holy fuck. You sit there with a trembling smile, staring down at him and he does not rouse. Shit, you’re creepy and you know it, but you’re not stupid. What other chance do you have? You unzip his old shearling jacket, underneath is that compression shirt that fits him too well. You map out the ridges of his abs, the slight dip between his pecs, every hard line that makes up his body. He smells so sexy, lavender and leather, must be some sorta pheromone ‘cause all you want to do is drop your face into his tits to bathe in that scent, to have it stick to your skin. Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’ve got a sex doll instead of a dad. That explains the distantness. He’s made of silicone.

The door clicks the moment you find it in yourself to click open his belt.

“What're you doing?” Mom ruins everything. She’s had it out for you the moment you formed in her womb. “He’s sleeping, don’t disturb him.” She says tersely, placing her Coach Tabby on the coffee table.

“He was cold.” That’s why his nipples are peaking, piercing the fabric of that shirt. Should be illegal to wear that in public. He’s asking for it.

“Yeah?” She asks, unconvinced, bending down to unclasp her heels.

“Yeah.” You stand up, dad’s indirect kiss on your cunt, shoot her a nasty sneer before you scuttle away to your bedroom for the rest of the day.

There are stairs that creak and stairs that don’t. You hang around down here at midnight often so you know the right path to take as to not alert your parents of your presence. They’re speaking about you.

“—be careful around her.” Truly, you hate your mother.

“What is there to be careful about?” Right? You tell her dad.

“Just, just be careful. She doesn’t y’know.”

“She doesn’t what?”

“She doesn’t get off her ass, she doesn’t talk to anyone but, well, I don’t know actually, she doesn’t talk to anyone at all.” You could pretend and say it hurts, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing insulting about the truth.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re a guy, she doesn't talk to guys.”

“We don’t talk much either.” Dad is too stiff to make conversation, and you collapse anytime he breathes in your general direction.

“Yeah, but, Leon.” Mom sounds exasperated, but she’s not getting her point across well. She should know better, dad’s skull is thicker than cement. “I’m worried.”

“What, for me or her?”

“Her, obviously, I don’t want her to… I want her to get out, like, I want her to do stuff,” mom sniffles, she is so putting this on to make dad feel guilty. “It’s so hard to watch your adult daughter just sit in a room and do nothing all day, Leon, she’s like a big fucking baby, why is she like that?”

“Babe,” he coos, and your knees buckle.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?”

“Go talk to her about it,” Mom repeats, voice shaking. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

They go back and forth for a few minutes, and then dad sighs and says fine. You make haste back to your hovel that doubles as a bedroom, crawl into bed and try to look natural.

Leon clears his throat before he knocks, when you don’t answer he pokes his head in. He says your name and you stir, sheets taut to your body as you peek up at him.

“You should open a window in here.”

When you don’t respond, he sits at the foot of your bed, looks around and nods. His gaze is scathing. Not purposefully. You just take it that way.

“Dinner’s ready,” he lies, then he leaves. His perfume lingers, and you touch the space he was sitting in, his warmth remains.

The day after that, you’re in the living room, tuckered out after mom forced you to help her with the groceries. You’re not cut out for this sort of life. The living sort of life. You were made to rot.

“Door wasn’t locked,” Leon says when he steps in, he puts his keys down, shucks his jacket off, tracks mud halfway down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Your shoes, Leon,” Mom groans, “she came in last.”

“Oh, sorry,” you say absentmindedly. If it doesn’t include tits or dicks or pussy it is none of your business. You have enough energy to keep up with one thing and that is your porn addiction. Groceries really took it out of you.

“You should be careful, rapists might come in, murderers or some shit.” Leon is speaking to your mother. Not you because he has seen your face and he knows very well that an ugly girl like you would survive out of sheer ugliness.

Mom snorts, “I think you’re the scariest thing that could walk through that door, honey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You’d like to know what that means too. Well, you get the gist, ‘cause you’ve heard all those stories. Dad and his wandering hands.

“You know what that means.” The sound of lips smacking is enough to have you feeling sick, dizzy as you cling to the walls and make your escape. “Did she leave— Quit it, Leon— Hands off, can you go talk to her, please? Properly this time.”

He forgets to knock this time, or he can’t bother to knock. Dad sits in that same spot, he opens his mouth and closes it about five times.

“Mom’s worried about you,” Leon says robotically. “You good?”

“I’m great.” Your tone is unconvincing, but he clearly doesn’t care enough because you're his dirty little secret. Not in a sex way. You would do anything for it to be in the sex way. Dirty little secret as in the ugly kid he chooses to ignore purely because you’re ugly. Dad doesn’t like ugly girls, you know that. He doesn’t think they’re worth a second glance, even a first glance is too much. Dad is superficial and his love is plastic.

These are all things you’re making up in your head based on assumptions. This is how all attractive men think. Ugly girls aren’t worth rape, dirtying your dick in ugly pussy sounds like a hassle. If you were pretty, you wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy. Even as a self-proclaimed ugly girl, you still wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy ‘cause they’re gross, and it’s not like they want you. Ugly guys shoot high and aim for pretty girls. Duh.

So you get it. Honestly. Whatever. Dad doesn’t like you. That’s okay, you don’t like him as a dad anyway. You love him like an obsessive lover. A hallway crush that stars in your late-night rape fantasies. And you’re fine like this. You’re so fine.

“Can I… Can I actually have a hug, dad?” You muster up what is left in your hollow heart to ask him that. It’s a big deal.

Leon blinks at you, levels you with his blank stare. He’s so handsome you want to blow your brains out, it’s an easy feat because you’re always looking for reasons to blow your brains out. Every straw is your last and yet you’re still here.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dad opens his arms, and you crawl towards him, head on his shoulder as his arms loop around your waist. Oh, god, you will your heart into giving out. Dying right here in dad’s arms is ideal.

He holds you so gently it’s brutal. He crushes you with the weight of his loveless love. Dad’s so good at pretending you almost think he cares.

“Can you… I want to stay like this.”

“Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Leon calls everyone sweetheart. Sweetheart is his default. Sweetheart ranges from Auntie Ashley to babysitters to lifeguards and retail workers who aren’t getting paid enough to deal with some old man making eyes at them. Not that anyone minds dad’s attention. It’s fucking unfair. Mom is babe, and your sister is baby, and your brother is buddy or sport or tiger or whatever shit he pulls out of his ass. And you’re sweetheart because you’re not important to him. His firstborn daughter is not important to him ‘cause she’s ugly. More of a specimen than a human.

You would do anything to keep him here.

“Dad?” You whisper into his neck.

“…Yeah?”

“I want you to…” Your lack of life flashes in front of your eyes. Bedroom. Bedroom. Porn. Bedroom. Porn. Porn. Dad. Not much. What have you got to lose? “I want to— I want to fuck you.”

Dad is silent. Then: “Oh.” He never makes the move to pull away, so you sit snugly in his grip for a few seconds longer.

“I— Dad, I touch myself thinkin’ about you.” Your stomach ties itself into a Gordian knot.

“Yeah, okay, why don’t we— Yeah, fuck, I see what she meant, okay. Wow, that’s a lot. Sweetheart, why… Listen.” Dad says a whole lot of nothing as he takes your hands off him.

“Please… I love you, dad. I really like you— I know it’s weird, dad, I do, seriously, I know, but please I just… I just like you.” There is no explanation for it. “Dad… Daddy.”

He full-on winces. It’s like you’re being flayed. Something inside of you just— Just shatters. Not your heart ‘cause it’s pumping more blood than it ever has. Fragments of your sanity splinter into even smaller segments until there is nothing left but nauseating levels of mental disturbance.

“If you don’t…”

“You seriously trying that right now?” Leon scoffs, and he’s so cocky you get hot under the collar.

(Between your thighs too, but that’s a different story.)

“Yeah, I’m serious— If you don’t… If you don’t do it- do it with me, I’ll tell mom you… I’ll tell her you raped me.” In actuality, you would never tell mom if daddy raped you. You would treasure it, keep it in a heart-shaped locket and think about it when you get off twelve times a day. Getting your pussy reamed by dad’s cock would fix you right up.

“Don’t— Are you okay?” Leon smacks your hand away, his tone is even.

“You do it too— I know you’ve done it, I know how you and mom met.”

His face drains, pallor yellowish. “That don’t… That’s different.”

“How is that any different?” Different ‘cause he’s hot and mom is hot. Leon passed it off as a drunken mistake and they end up getting together. It’s not rape if the perpetrator is a hottie. You agree, but still— It’s not fucking fair.

“‘Cause I didn’t do this.” Leon gestures abstractly.

You kiss him, hands braced on each of his tits, digging your fingers into the meat to feel him tense and harden like he’s wearing a chest plate. “You’re so hot dad,” you whine into his mouth, and Leon is quick to push you off, your wrists in his hands. Makeshift handcuffs.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad is using his dad voice. It’s like porn to you, only makes you wetter. “I don’t like hitting girls, but you’re givin’ me a damn good reason.”

“You can hit me, daddy.” You offer your face to him, stretching your neck forward, closing your eyes as you wait for the impact. It lands firm on your cheek, his fingertips catching the tip of your nose. Fuck that felt good. Shit. You think you’ve creamed your panties. “Again, dad, hit me again—“ He does. Harder than the last time. Your head knocks backwards, and your brain must have a dent in it.

Dad puts you over his lap and you’re so sure you’ve entered the pearly gates. Or the innermost circle of hell. Probably that ‘cause Jesus Christ are you steaming.

“I hate stupid little sluts that try it out on me,” Leon drags your sweats over the swell of your ass, “Do you have a dick?”

“What, dad— No!” You tell him, more mortified at his question than you are by your bare ass under his palm. Fuck— You’re so wet it’s disgusting, dripping down your thighs and surely staining his lap. Thick like treacle.

“No? Were you gonna rape dad with this stupid cunt?” Oh, you hope he spanks your pussy. Porn makes it look delicious. “You look like you might have a dick with that face of yours.” He traces the seam of your cunt through your panties. “Or is your pussy just fat?”

Good fucking lord.

“Dad…” You arch into him, only to have a hand come down on your left ass cheek. One. Two. Three. They all hurt bad as each other. Four. “Ouch!” That one hurt real bad. Five. You feel like a naughty child. This is not as hot as you thought it would be. More dull and embarrassing. Not even the good kind of embarrassing.

Leon puts you on your knees, the hand wrapped around your jaw forces your lips into a pout, and you think he is going to kiss you— God, you close your eyes and wait for it, lean into him, shit you’d pop your leg if you were standing up. He spits in your face and it trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Got me dirty with that filthy pussy.” Dad speaks offhandedly, he speaks to you like you’re dog shit. Not dog shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Just dog shit on the side of the road. Like the sort that bothers you enough to complain about it, but it doesn’t ignite any real anger.

His hand remains tight on your jaw, then he drops it to fish his fat cock from his pants to slap the drippy head on your cheek. The sound ricochets off the walls. Hits you like a bullet. Holy fuck. Dad really just did that. You giggle, batting your lashes up at him as pretty as an ugly girl can, and he grimaces so it can’t be pretty.

“Christ, you nasty fuck,” Leon snickers at the look on your face, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, nosing the tip of his dick, he smells so good you want him in your mouth, “I jus’ love you lots.”

“God, I hate ugly little freaks like you.” He said that already, no need to rub it in. Another slap of his cock on your face. Your heart beats for him and him alone. “You know what I think?” Dad guides his cock into your warm mouth. “Shit, that’s good— I think your mom is a liar.”

His dick is all you’ve ever wanted. It’s heavy on your tongue, though the longer you suckle on the tip, the weightier it gets, and he’s wet. Dripping all over the place. You must get that gene from your dad.

“‘Cause I don’t think,” he grunts, palm resting on your forehead to push you off his shaft, “I don’t think I could make a kid this ugly.”

“No,” you say breathlessly, “No, you’re my dad, my daddy.” Crouched down below him, you lave over his balls, putting more effort into this than you have done with anything else in your life. Gargling dad’s balls is your best work. Nothing else you have to be proud of.

Your pussy is pulsing, shit has its own heartbeat, you drop your hand down to soothe your poor cunt, rubbing figure eights into the bulge of your clit over your panties. It’s not enough, you push them to the side, your fingers slip a couple times, not enough, only dad’s fingers are enough, only his cock will plug up your leaking hole.

“Get off me,” dad instructs, and you might be glued to him, but you detach yourself immediately. “C’mon, stand up.” You use his thighs as leverage, standing on shaky legs that threaten to give out at any second. He takes your shirt off. “Cute tits gone to waste,” dad sighs like it’s heartbreaking. “We could've done something about it, y’know? Could fix your face right up, just had to ask daddy.”

“Really, dad? I want to be pretty, daddy, I want to be pretty for you, you never call me pretty— Daddy, I want to be pretty, please.” You clasp his shirt, and he brings you into his lap once more, raising your legs to slide your panties down so you’re free bleeding on his lap. Free bleeding without the blood. Just good old pussy.

“Messin’ with you, sweetheart, can’t fix that dog face,” dad coos to you tenderly, and the plain-as-day insult flies right over you. Dad could get you to sell both your kidneys if he keeps talking to you like that. “Just gotta live with it.”

You have. You have lived with it. That’s what you do. Live with your ugly face. You could die, that’s an option, but you choose to wait it out. ‘Cause dying is pretty scary no matter how much you want it. And Leon’s dick is hard beneath your pussy so there are things to live for. The world isn’t all cruel.

“Up,” he taps your lower back, you raise your hips and he presses his cock to your stretched hole. Toy after toy after toy. All to ready yourself for dad. When you sink down on him, your body convulses. It’s the sweet release of death. Or an orgasm. Fuck. Dying on dad’s cock is— You haven’t died on his dick, he fucks you through your high, feet planted firmly on the ground as he thrusts upwards, dick angled just right.

Heroin is meant to be good. You’ve seen Trainspotting. Better than any cock— You don’t believe that for a minute. Unless he’s leaking smack straight into your pussy, numbing your walls. Could be that ‘cause god— You’re not really thinking, not that you think much, when you decide to shove your fingers into his mouth.

“Daddy, can you taste me?” You ask him, giving a languid grind of your hips down onto his cock, you regret it immediately ‘cause it’s so good your cunt squelches loudly. “Do you taste me, dad? Dad—“

“Yeah,” Dad says, muffled, “Shoving your fingers down my fuckin’ throat, you little psycho, ‘course I taste it.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Daddy looks so pretty with his lips wrapped around your fingers, you fuck them in and out of his pink mouth, his tongue runs along the length of your fingers like he’s sucking a nice cock. Treating your fingers better than you did his dick.

Daddy’s splitting you in two. He fucks you without a care in the world. ‘Cause he doesn’t care about you. One-time-use pussy. You’re disposable like the gloves you get with box dye. Like a plastic spork. His cock is so deep he might as well tear open your middle and fuck your guts. Leon grabs your hips, forces you up and drops you down. The air in your lungs has no time to build up— You grasp at his shirt, bouncing in his lap like you’re a fleshlight, and you would be so happy with that title. Dad’s personal fleshlight. It makes you giddy.

Leon’s cock twitches inside of you, when he lifts you off of him, your pussy clings to the tip, holding on for dear life, insistent on milking daddy’s dick, taking every drop of his cum.

“Daddy…” Your head drops to his shoulder. “Please, daddy, am I pretty? Can you call me pretty?”

His hips stutter, and you don’t have to see his face to know he hesitates. It’s a struggle to call a girl like you pretty. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Then he dumps his load so deep— So deep, you warm to the thought of having your daddy’s baby. You already fucked so why not go the extra mile?

Dad doesn’t kiss you, but he lays you down and tucks you in like he never has before. “Your mom’s worried.” He goes back to the topic at hand and you groan, covering your face with a pillow. “Hey, we can, uh…” Leon scratches his head. “We can y’know…” He shrugs, glances down at you. “Can do that if you try pulling your weight a little.”

The promise of your dad’s cock is enough to have you applying for every job in a thirty-mile radius. Dad’s cock is a fix for an ugly girl like you. You’ve got a pussy only your daddy could love, and you think you’re more than okay with that.

[rinhaler]

I want plug! Sukuna to ask me if i want a treat while unbuttoning his pants.

++ 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝: 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐋𝐋𝐋

doubling up these requests bc they are both scrumptious hehe :P also treating this as an alternate reality where Yuuji doesn't know the reader cheated with Sukuna, enjoy!!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dubcon, oui'd smoking, oral (m receiving), degradation, throat fucking, throat bulge, choking, breath play, dacryphilia, slight praise, daddy kink, pussy spanks!

words: 2k

It’s not unusual for you to turn up unannounced at your boyfriend’s house. Why would it be weird? You like to surprise him, on occasion. Being here when he finishes work always puts the brightest smile on his face.

So, no, it isn’t weird that you’re here without him knowing.

It’s perfectly fine.

It’s normal.

Though after Sukuna opens the door, your heart starts doing cartwheels. He can tell how nervous you are, the way your body moves through heavy breaths, that you’re trying to conceal remarkably well, gives you away completely.

He leans on the door frame and smirks wickedly.

“What are you doing here?” he grunts, kicking the door open and allowing you to enter the apartment he shares with his brother. “Yuuji isn’t here,” he speaks, casually, walking back towards his bedroom before stopping abruptly. He turns to face you, that maniacal smirk of his growing wider. “Oh, don’t tell me, did you come all of this way to see me, princess?”

You hate yourself. But you hate Sukuna more. You can’t believe you’ve allowed yourself to do this. To come here, so meekly and pathetically and allow him to have this level of power and control over you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He whistles, cheeks filling with air as his eyes widen in disbelief. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, so honest.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.” you sigh, turning to leave. “Don’t tell Yuuji I came, please.”

“Stop.” Sukuna tells you, he curls his finger and walks away from you.

You’re like a lap dog wherever he’s concerned. You’ve tried avoiding him, you’ve tried only spending the night with Yuuji if he comes to your place. But things are changing. You can’t stand it. You’re getting snippier with your boyfriend and you can feel yourself comparing the two of them whenever you have sex. Yuuji is good in bed. And he’s generous, but Sukuna… that one night with Sukuna… it’s looping in your mind like a record.

You enter his room to see an ashtray with a fat blunt already lit. The smoke twirls and dances upward, and you know already know where this is going.

“Relax, will you?” he speaks as he gets comfortable on his bed. It’s like fucking déjà-vu, watching him pick up his Xbox controller and load up GTA while you look down at the blunt apprehensively. “Makin’ me fucking stressed, why are you like that?”

“Shut up.” you bite back, picking up the ashtray, joint in hand as you sit on the edge of the bed. He pays you no mind as you devour it, every last morsel you can get before setting it back down. He watches you out of the corner of his eye when you stand up to take off your coat and kick off your shoes. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He scoffs, smiling.

“About?”

“You’re such a cunt.” you practically spit at him as the venom drips from your tongue. You’re a little taken aback, however, that he doesn’t react at all. He does, though. You just aren’t perceptive enough to have realised the way he stopped playing his game briefly and his jaw bubbled with anger. He’s a good actor, though.

He’s sure got you fooled.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” he admits. You freeze before sitting back down on the bed and stare at him. He doesn’t pause his game again, but he looks at you, too. There’s something in your eyes, he detects. Is it concern? Worry? Lust? “Why did you come here?”

“I don’t know.” you respond, instantly. It’s the truth, after all. You don’t know, you’re not sure you’ll ever know. Cheating on Yuuji once is bad enough, but did you really come here to do it again? It’s making you feel a little sympathy for your ex, and that is a dangerous thought. “I just… you’re in here, constantly.” you admit, pointing to your temple.

“You’re high already.” he laughs. “We can’t do it again. Yuuji might forgive one slip up, but two?”

“I know we can’t.” you sigh, lying backwards on the mattress and look up at the ceiling. You look at the TV when it turns silent, noticing the screen has gone back. And then you look back at Sukuna, noticing him lighting another blunt. “I’m not high, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he laughs, taking a hearty drag before flicking the ash away. “Your eyes are red as fuck, and you’re drooling.”

You keep your eyes and mouth closed for a moment, wiping the alleged drool from your mouth. You do all you can to gather your thoughts, though there’s nothing coherent going on up there. Sukuna’s blunts are too fucking strong for you. And you’re an idiot, really, because you remember what happened last time you got too high with him.

But maybe, deep down, this is what you want.

“Are ya pent up?” he snickers before smoking again, “I fuck better than Yuuji, yeah? Want me to make you squirt again?”

“You’re disgusting.” you snipe, shutting him down instantly.

“You are, too, ‘cause you like it.” he continues. Your jaw hangs low again as he rests his blunt between his lips and lifts his shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly toned body to you again. “Look like you wanna eat me, princess.”

“Shut up…” you huff, turning your head away again so you aren’t ogling his muscles. They’re on your mind, though. Like a parasite wriggling its way into your braincells.

Your focus is brought back to him again, however, when you see his hands move towards his jeans. The blunt is still latched between his lips as he unfastens his belt. The clinking of the metal on his belt is like a knife through you, a painful reminder of what you’re doing here and what you’re letting him get away with.

“Don’t look so scared,” he tells you, unbuttoning the top of his jeans. “D’ya want a treat?” the sound of his zipper coming down is deafening.

You’re frozen in place, completely paralysed as you think about what he’s saying. He just said you can’t do this. He just said that Yuuji won’t forgive you for making the same mistake twice. Your heart is racing as he puts the blunt back in the ashtray and stands to his feet. He grabs your ankles, dragging you off of the bed and you land with a thump.

“Your pussy is nice, princess, but your mouth was a perfect little cocksleeve for me. Get on the bed.” he orders, and you obey. You let him manhandle you until your head is hanging off the edge, your eyes widen in horror as the long, girthy monster in his pants is revealed to you again. “Open wide.”

He wastes no time once your mouth is open, stuffing his cock down your throat until it bulges. The sight is almost enough to make him cum. You hate how much you love being treated like this, like you’re nothing. Nothing but a whore. Sukuna’s whore, in fact.

“Oh fuck.” he hisses, throwing his head back. “Been dyin’ to cum down your little throat, fuck.” he tells you, his heavy palm squeezes down on your neck as he fucks in and out of your wet cavern. He pulls out, giving you a moment to breathe. “Tell daddy you like sucking cock.” he demands, smacking his tip off your swollen bottom lip.

“I like— I l-like sucking daddy’s c-cock.” you struggle to speak through cracked breaths. And you can barely think another thought before he slots his cock back between your lips again.

You wince as he suffocates you with his length, oozing pre coats your tongue with each thrust. And, fuck, you can’t deny how wet you are.

He looks down when you begin slapping his thigh so you can breathe. And he pulls out, briefly, before plunging in again.

“You’re the fucking cunt.” he tells you. “Look at you, sucking your boyfriend’s brother off like a porn star. Think I’m a cunt? What does that make you?”

Your eyes widen in horror as you realise he’s toying with your very life over a throw away comment. Of course he’s a cunt, and you are too! You didn’t mean to offend him this much. But maybe this is a game, too, maybe he’s joking around.

He pulls out again, leaving you gasping as your eyes water and you suck in every breath of air you can take in case he decides to rob you of it again. His hand remains on your throat, though there’s essentially no pressure to it.

“Look pretty when you cry.” he snarls. “Thought I was gonna kill you for a sec, didn’t ya?”

You choke out a sob and nod, and he coos. He smooths his free hand over your cheek, stroking it delicately with his thumb before withdrawing it. You try to object as he lets it wander, though, his hand breaches your leggings and slips beneath your panties to feel your soaked folds.

“Thought you were gonna die ‘n you got this wet? Jesus, princess.” he laughs, spanking your pussy lightly a few times. He briefly removes his hand from your throat and guides his cock back between your lips, fucking into your mouth again at a ruthless pace. He removes his fingers from your underwear and licks them clean, moaning as he continues humping into your mouth.

The taste is better than weed, he thinks. Your sweet juices are heaven sent and he can’t get enough. He’s been rough with you, he knows, he does feel a little guilty, but not enough to stop. He’ll treat you, though. He’s close, and when he’s finished he’ll make you cum on his tongue as many times as you want. Or he wants.

He’ll even eat it from the back.

Fuck, he’s pussy drunk without even experiencing it yet.

Your mouth is incredible, and you’re taking him so well. But he knows how perfect your cunt is, how pretty you moan when you feel good. He wants it all. Needs it, in fact.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cummin', baby!” he grunts, moaning boisterously without a care in the world. It’s like you’re his, he doesn’t care if Yuuji comes home and hears. It’s none of his little brother’s business what he does with his property.

He frees you from the grasp of his hand around your throat and slowly pulls out of your mouth. You look exhausted, and you are. It doesn’t go unnoticed despite you trying to put on an act for Sukuna. He doesn’t care, not really. He’ll let you rest but he’s nowhere near done with you. He helps you sit upright, pulling you into his arms as he cradles you on the bed.

“I won’t hurt you, you know.” he tells you, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tugging at your bottoms. “I’ll spank you and slap you and whatever else while we’re fucking.”

“O-Okay…” you respond, unsure of what he’s getting at.

“I wouldn’t kill you, I mean.” he continues, clearing his throat. “Wouldn’t be violent with ya, Yuuji’d kill me if I was.”

“Oh! That…”

“Doesn’t mean you can call me a cunt, though.” he warns you before kissing your neck and groping at your tits. Your head falls back and you run your fingers through his hair. “Better say sorry if you want daddy to eat you out.”

“F-uuuck, okay, ‘m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a cunt.”

“Good girl.” he whispers against your ear. “Get on all fours, sweetheart. Face down ass up.”

You do as you’re told, wiggling your ass a little to encourage him to hurry. He doesn’t, though. He wants to make the most of this moment with you. He doesn’t know if it’ll happen again, or if it does, he’ll never know when. His hands grip into the flesh of your ass, spreading it until your pussy lips part.

He admires your soft, dewy flesh like it’s a painting in an art gallery.

It might be the last time he ever sees it, after all.

© 2023 rinhaler

[ficarcheologist]

୧ ⊹₊ ⋆ nsfw alphabet 💭 feyd rautha

WARNINGS ⁞ smut, 18+, profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

OPs NOTES ⁞ Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

MY NOTES ⁞ This is not my work. If you are the owner of this work and would like it taken down, please provide proof of ownership and I will take it down/redirect where necessary! Link to the fic reblogged on one of my other side blogs.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you’re his wife or a favored concubine/lover, you can expect some degree of aftercare, but otherwise? He’s honestly probably halfway out the door before you’ve come back to your senses. However if he genuinely cares about you, he’ll at least clean you off and ask if you’re alright.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of his own is his hands. And your neck for similar reasons. He loves watching the way his fingers wrap around your throat. The sight of that excites him like nothing else on the planet.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harkonnen have black cum and that makes it pretty easy for Feyd to stain your body or clothes and mark his territory.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You’re a bit shy about it but his absolute favorite act of intimacy with you is going down on you when you’re on your period. You’re so responsive, and blood has never scared him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

About what one would expect for a nobleman his age, maybe slightly less as he focuses more on fighting.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary for both the control it gives him over you and the intimacy it provides.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deathly serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Shaved, perfectly well groomed. Feyd is a future Baron, and everything about him needs to be flawless.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s surprised by how much he changes through the course of your relationship. He goes from despising the romantic aspects of it to craving that affection from you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only does it when he’s off world and can’t get his greedy hands on you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Knife kink, blood kink, impact play, hair pulling, biting, overstim, pregnancy kink, breeding kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The luxurious chambers be shares with you at the palace. But, he does enjoy a good session where there’s a risk of being caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your cleavage, the sound of your voice, seeing you hold your own in a fight, seeing you smile at him, seeing you cry.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d be turned off by disrespect. Sass is fine to a certain degree, but disrespect? No.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving. Loves the power he has over you to make you scream and writhe against his ministrations, the way you taste, everything about it. And he’s damn good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Almost exclusively fast and rough and HARD. Very rarely will it be slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sure, he’d rather take his time with you but he has nothing against a good quickie and engages in them often.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely a risk taker and game to experiment with almost anything at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

4-5 rounds, excellent self control so makes you come at least once or even twice before he does each go about. If he has time, he’s definitely going to wear you out.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Prefers the simpler things - like knives - but would have no issue trying out some toys on you, not so much on himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If you’ve pissed him off? He can be very, VERY unfair. He will edge you for literal hours until you’re begging him to let you come.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Average to slightly louder than average. Mostly animalistic sounds (snarling, growling) and the occasional moan of your name.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly enjoys the idea of you taking the lead and pinning him to the bed, having your way with him, riding him and using him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s big. 8 inches, long, thick, veiny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Average. He’s a busy man who often has other things on his mind, BUT when he’s with you and doesn’t have any worries? It goes from average to insane quite fast.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on his mood. Typically he will fall asleep pretty quickly.

[thewritingmagician2022]

You Refuse to be Submissive - Brothers and Dateables

Lucifer: Oh boy, talk about challenging because Lucifer is 100% going to take that as a challenge at first. He’s going to assume that not only will you not be submissive (which is a no go in his book) but that you also expect him to be the submissive one instead (absolutely not). There is going to be a lot of heated discussion there, I think. It’s not that Lucifer doesn’t want to respect your boundaries, it’s just that his entire personality is built on being respected and feared and obeyed so this is really throwing him off. The more you talk about it, the more willing he is to listen. He’ll never concede to being submissive but he will settle for equal partnership. You’ll probably have to regularly remind him of this because he’s going to unconsciously act in a very dominant manner sometimes but eventually he’ll learn and you guys will find a balance that works well for you both. 

Mammon: For the most part, Mammon is only going to argue on principle. He’s got to remind you that he’s the second most powerful demon in this family and he’s your first man; you should do what he says! However, this is definitely more for the sake of telling himself that he tried to be in control and assert himself. In reality, Mammon absolutely loves letting you take control. He’s used to his more submissive role in relationships and feels most comfortable when you’re putting him in his place. There’s something incredibly addicting to him about the idea of belonging to you, the sweet, loving human that wandered into his life and treats him better than his family ever did. So aside from that first perfunctory argument and maybe some sporadic little comments about how he’s “not gonna sub for a puny human if you think that’s what’s gonna happen” when he’s feeling particularly insecure, you have a perfectly happy sub of your own. 

Levi: That’s more than fine with Levi! In fact, it’s a relief. In most situations, Levi absolutely hates being charge; it’s too much pressure for an Otaku like him. This translates to your relationship as well. Levi is much happier worshiping you and falling apart under your words and ministrations than he would be ordering you around or calling the shots. Levi is quite the blushing but eager sub and he never fights you on the roles you’ve created for yourselves. 

Satan: At first, this is a tough blow for Satan. Not necessarily because he wants you to be submissive but because he doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t be for him. A part of him is going to wonder whether you would do it for Lucifer or if you didn’t respect him as much or a myriad of other things; this means he may blow up a little at first as he gets his bearings. However, Satan is also very logical so once you sit him down and explain that it’s nothing to do with him and just a preference on your end, he’s much more agreeable about it. You’d probably end up in a detailed conversation about kinks and boundaries so that way he can make sure you’re both totally happy with the sex and your roles in your relationship. I don’t see Satan full on subbing for you, more like an equal partnership both in and out of the bedroom. 

Asmo: You don’t wanna sub? That’s totally fine with Asmo! He’s the Avatar of Lust, he can roll with just about any and every preference you may have. You just tell him what you want him, how you want it, and when and he will do everything in his power to make all of your fantasies come true! He may tease you a little bit about it, in the sense that he likes to think he would be able to make you actually enjoy being submissive - especially if your reluctance is due to bad past experiences. He would want to show you what a real dominant could be like and how good submitting can feel. If it’s a hard stop though, he’s more than willing to take on that submissive role instead and won’t push the issue. 

Beel: Beel has never thought much one way or another about you being submissive. It was never anything he was going to ask you to do though, admittedly, he’s probably always seen you in a more submissive view simply because you’re so much smaller and weaker than him. It just seems like the de facto setting in that situation. Once you tell him you’re not interested in being submissive, he’s totally okay with it and will ask you what you do want. Beel is a pleaser by nature and he would be happy to take on the role, if you’d prefer for him to be the submissive one. However, I did think the sub/dom thing would very rarely come up for Beel so it’s simply not something you two need to worry about. 

Belphie: It’s a toss up for Belphie. He hates being told no and he doesn’t like the idea of being “forced” into the submissive role; there’s still a part of him that believes he should be in total control and that you’re just a little human that should cater to his every whim. (It really doesn’t help that he’s so spoiled by everyone and is used to getting what he wants) This can work in a positive way though because Belphie is undeniably lazy, which means he doesn’t mind if you’re the one putting in all of the work sexually. So, sure, he can lay back and be a little pillow princess for you. Or, if he has some energy and/or big feelings, he’ll be a very bratty sub and take great joy in harassing the hell out of you until he lets you put him back in his place. Basically, you not subbing is fine as long as you show Belphie all of the ways that he benefits from you taking on the dominant role. 

Barbatos: Barbatos was literally born to serve. He is a pleasure and service sub, through and through. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a little sadistic sometimes and he will happily “act out” if that’s something you enjoy him doing but, for the most part, he is incredibly happy in his submissive role. He lives to make you happy and feel good; in fact, being the perfect sub is one of his greatest achievements. He wants you to not only not feel bad about your decision to not be submissive but actually feel good about it. He enjoys being submissive and he wants you to use that to your advantage as much as possible and feel good about doing so. 

Diavolo: He is more than a little thrown off by your refusal to sub for him. He’s the Demon Overlord, King of the Devildom. No one would dare say no to him. Most people would give up everything they have just to be able to say they subbed for him. All that to say, he’s thrilled. It gives Diavolo such a rush to know you’re so willing to set your boundaries with him and that you trust him. And now he gets to explore an entirely new side of himself! The side where he listens to someone else for once and has to do as he’s bidden. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and there’s no one else he would trust to explore that with. I do think the novelty would wear off for him after a while and, yes, he’d still sub when you’re both in the mood for that but it would be an equal relationship the majority of the time. Diavolo likes to let go of control every so often, especially when he’s stressed, but it’s not something he can long term commit to. 

Simeon: This poor baby is going to be confused as heck when you tell him don’t want to sub. He doesn’t even know what that means and at first he thinks you mean subservient in a very old school biblical sense and he rushed to assure you he’s not looking for you to follow his every whim. Once you explain what you mean, he’s a little mortified but also turned on by the idea of being submissive for you? He’s always been in a submissive position, thinking about his father and all of that, and he enjoys pushing the limits so I think Simeon would be a lowkey bratty sub. He’s not nearly as malicious or tough to tame as Belphie but he does enjoy riling you by purposefully misunderstanding rules or using gray areas to his advantage. Mostly though he’s just happy to give you whatever you ask for because all he wants is to make you happy and prove just how good it can be to have an angel like him at your service. (The blasphemy of serving and worshiping a human rather than his father is also a huge turn on for him)

Solomon: Solomon is a happy switch so if you’re totally against subbing, he’ll take up the task. I think he would be the third “pushiest” after Lucifer and Asmo, in the sense that he really thinks he could get you to enjoy being submissive. I think he would try plenty of suggestions and wheedling, using his sway as the most powerful sorcerer, but if it’s truly not something you want to pursue then he’ll let it go. Solomon enjoys being submissive to you because, just like with Diavolo, it’s such a juxtaposition to his day to day life. He has fun with it and is regularly supplying you with new ideas or items that you can implement with him. He also loves being subby in front of people in subtle ways, just enough to throw them off because who would expect him to listen to a mere mortal human?

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 15 - Mirror Sex

Some more Obey Me to balance out the military men! Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Asmodeus asking you to try on clothes he’d picked out for you after a heavy day of retail therapy was absolutely nothing new. It actually became a bit of a bonding experience for the two of you. “You’ve got to add more color to your wardrobe Y/N!” He’d cheer, absolutely giddy when you tried on something outside of your normal attire.

So when he texted you to swing by his room for a bit of a fashion show, you weren’t exactly surprised. What did surprise you however, was the choice of clothes sitting against his bed sheets. “Uh Asmo?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “This is uh…an interesting choice for a fashion show.”

“Oh don’t be modest,” the demon purrs. It was getting harder and harder to tell by the day when Asmodeus was trying to charm you and when he wasn’t. “You’d look stunning in it darling! Just try it on, please? For me?” You look over and see those pretty sunset eyes looking at you so expectantly and sigh heavily. 

“Fine, fine,” you groan. Slowly but surely you undo your uniform until you’re completely undressed. You can see Asmodeus lick his lips, but that’s also nothing new, not to you at least. You blush regardless, quickly starting to pull the ensemble on. It’s a lovely lace bodice with matching garter and sheer underwear. “Well? How does it look?”

“Hmm,” the avatar of lust muses softly, looking you over. In the dim light of his room, you manage to miss the darkening of his eyes and how his pupils dilate like a beat eyeing it’s prey. “Come stand in front of my mirror, let me see better.” 

A little embarrassed, you do as he asks. Asmo’s floor length mirror doesn’t miss a thing on your body. How the fabric hugs all of your curves, how the sheer fabric does little to actually cover your body where it lays. It actually feels kind of nice against your skin, even the most intimate parts, but you push that thought down quickly.

The demon snakes his arms around your torso with a thoughtful hum, his head resting on your shoulder. He makes eye contact with you in your reflection, a knowing smile on his lips. “You look absolutely divine in that you know?” He tells you, voice practically dripping with desire.  “Almost as good as myself.

You’re so caught up in his honeyed words, you don’t even notice his hands sliding down your legs. You see how Asmo relishes your gasp as perfectly manicured fingers caress your sex beneath the sheer fabric. You immediately bite your lip; between the touches and the energy radiating off the demon behind you, it’s hard not to make noises from the pleasure.

“Now now darling, don’t hid those pretty noises from me,” he coos. “You know you sound just as pretty as you look.” His warm tongue licks behind the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe. 

“A-Asmo…!” you whine, hips bucking forward. You knew this little song and dance all too well by now. Foreplay was nice, but the fallen angel was sooner to work you up to your peak and keep you there for as long as he saw fit. 

Lithe fingers worked your sex in a slow but steady pace. Sinful words dripped from perfect pink lips, every so often leaving a sweet kiss or a nip against your neck and shoulder. Asmo’s free hand slid up underneath the light fabric of the bodice to thumb over your nipple. He giggles sweetly at your reaction, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“My my, how easily you fall apart for me sweetheart,” he teases. The hand on your nipple leaves, causing you to groan at the lack of attention. He comes to lightly hold your jaw, adjusting it so you can see yourself in his mirror. “See? See how lovely you look?”

Your eyes were glazed over in arousal, brow knitted together as your body craved more and more. Your knees were wobbling, trying to hold yourself up as pleasure coursed through your veins. You distantly wondered how much of this was actually feeling good and how much as due to Asmodeus’ influence as the avatar of lust. That thought was immediately wiped away as that telltale coil in the pit of your stomach tightened to it’s breaking point.

“Asmo…!” You moaned, trying to tear your eyes away from your reflection. “So close, so c-close..!” Your hips were bucking up erratically into the demon’s hand.

Asmo kisses your cheek sweetly. “Go ahead sweetie,” he tells you, voice low in your ear. The hand holding your jaw goes back to toying with your chest. “Let me feel that raw energy from you~”

You’re not in any position to deny him. Your knees buckle as pleasure overtakes you, a long moan that mixes with a cry leaving your throat. The narcissistic fourth born supports you easily, letting your weight rest against him. You can hear him chuckle softly behind your panting.

“Looks like we’ll have to have fashion shows in the mirror more often hmm?~”

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: can you do some Donna angst or smut? There’s no more Donna fics so I’ll take anything :’(

18+ Minors DNI

I knowww, dude T^T I could go for some Donna right now. I haven’t been giving her enough love recently, I admit it. Also, I’ve just come to the hideous realization that I’ve never written power-bottom Donna (Just sub Donna) so, I had to fix that. In this one, Y/N is a service top (And a virgin) and Donna is gentle as she shows them the ropes ;) I hope you like it! Let’s get into it!

You and Donna haven’t been dating long, but you’ve both already fallen in love. You didn’t think it could happen so fast, but you’ve never been more sure of anything. She’s… Everything you’ve ever wanted.

Kind, intelligent, beautiful… She’s a work of art.

The thing is, though… You two haven’t had… Sex yet.

Actually, you’ve never had sex at all. You hadn’t found anyone before Donna so there really wasn’t a need to. However… You’d love nothing more than to pleasure Donna. It’s your only unfulfilled dream.

As you hold Donna in your arms one evening, you look at her nervously. You can’t hold back your desires any longer. “Um… Babe?” You suddenly ask.

Donna looks at you and sees the freaked-out expression on your face. “Baby, what is it?” She questions and sits up a bit.

“I… Wanted to know if… You’ve ever been… Intimate with anyone before?” You try to ask, face ablaze. “Because, I’d like to… Um, do it with you, Donna,” You say. “I mean, uhh… Only if you want to! You know?”

Damn… Real smooth, Y/N. You grimace at your choice of words.

Donna’s eyes immediately widen. She’s been waiting for you to say something before she brought it up, but… She would love to have sex with you.

However… The way you asked her. Is it possible… You’ve never done it before? “Tesoro… Are you a virgin?” She asks gently, cupping your face so you won’t turn away from her.

You begin to sweat. You’re very embarrassed. “I-I mean, uh… Yeah… Umm, is that bad?” You ask, feeling self-conscious.

Donna coos at how cute you are. “Oh, no, cara mia. That’s perfectly fine,” She promises and rubs your cheek. She didn’t even realize this. It’s… Actually rather heartwarming to her. She’d be so honored to be your first.

“Have… You ever had sex?” You ask her.

This time, Donna’s the one who’s nervous. She sighs before answering. “I… Have, Y/N,” She reveals. “To be honest, I used to be very… Active when I was younger.”

Wow.

That’s… Kind of hot to you for some reason. Donna having some experience with this kind of thing makes you feel… Safe.

“Can I, uhh… I want to…” You try to say.

“Oh, would you like to touch me, cara mia?” Donna asks and bats her long lashes at you.

Your cheeks burn wildly at Donna’s question. You nod, unable to speak.

“Why don’t I walk you through this, tesoro? I’ll tell you what to do. How does that sound, baby?” She suggests.

You chuckle nervously and nod again. You’re so excited.

Donna grins at you and begins taking off her nightgown.

Your mouth waters as you catch your first glimpse of her naked body. She’s shapely and has the most delicious curves.

“There we are,” Donna quietly says, tossing her nightgown aside. She looks up at you and strokes your face. “Are you ready, baby?” She asks.

You take a deep breath to settle yourself. “Yes, Donna,” You say.

“Well, to start… I want you to touch my breasts, Y/N,” She tells you. “That’s a very big… Turn on for me,” She says and bites her lip playfully.

You quickly flush at this. You reach out hesitantly to cup her warm, ample breasts, but you soon pull away. Is it okay to just… Grope her so scandalously?

Donna giggles at you and takes your hands in hers. “It’s alright, baby. Just do what feels natural to you,” She instructs, guiding your hands to her breasts.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure at how soft and velvety they feel. You lightly knead her chest, loving how plush and comforting her body is.

Donna’s enjoying your impromptu massage. She smiles adoringly at you and hums contentedly, rolling her shoulders as you help melt the stress of the day away. She gently pulls your face closer to her and kisses you, savoring the taste of you on her lips.

You two make out for a moment or two before you begin kissing your way down her neck.

Donna’s eyes flutter closed as your kisses make their way to the valley of her breasts. “Oh, yes, baby. You’re doing so good, Y/N,” She praises and reaches up to tangle her fingers in your hair.

You feel so proud at Donna’s words. You suck one of her nipples into your mouth and begin running your tongue along the outside of it.

Donna sucks in a breath at your actions. “Yes, Y/N,” She says softly. She’s actually very impressed with you.

Your hands find their way between her thighs, exploring the depths of her sopping wet folds. The soft moans that escape Donna’s lips only encourage you to delve deeper, adding one finger and eventually another.

Donna lets out a quick gasp at your actions. “Keep going, Y/N! Wonderful,” She grunts. She looks at you and cups your face, meeting the rhythm of your thrusts with her hips. “Ooh, so good!” She cries out and suddenly throws her head back.

You feel so empowered. You’re taking care of Donna’s needs in the most intimate way possible. You don’t ever want this to end.

“Okay, Y/N,” Donna pants, feeling herself getting close. “I want you to take your… T-thumb,” She tells you. “And start rubbing circles… R-right here,” She tries to say through her pleasure and moves your thumb to her clit. “D-don’t stop thrusting while you… Do this, okay?” She asks and almost shrieks from how good you’re doing. She wraps her arms around your neck and lies her head on your shoulder as she writhes in ecstasy.

You feel the little throbbing bud Donna showed you and begin doing as you’re told. “Like this, Donna?” You ask.

Donna can’t even answer before she wails in climax. “Yes, Y/N!” She cries out. She catches her breath for a minute, caught off guard by how strong her orgasm was. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…” She chants as she comes down from her high and hugs you tighter.

Your eyes go wide and your cheeks are very red. Did you… Make her come? “Donna?” You ask. “Did you… Umm…” You can’t bring yourself to ask your question out loud.

Donna pulls back a bit to look at you. She places a soft kiss on your lips. “I did, baby. You made me feel so amazing, tesoro. Thank you,” She tells you and goes in for another kiss.

You are… Ecstatic. You finally had sex with Donna and it was even better than you could have imagined. She’s so kind to you and you can’t wait to do this again… In fact… “Uhh, Donna? Do you want to-”

“Yes, cara mia! Whenever you’re ready,” Donna eagerly agrees. While she wouldn’t necessarily describe herself as the most sexual person… Maybe you have fundamentally changed her views on sex.

Maybe… Sex with you has just become her most favorite thing in the world.

Note: I just thought it was sweet to have Donna be more experienced than Y/N in this one. Let me know what you thought about this dynamic! Super interesting to write…

Masterlist

[mangoshorthand]

Arrow of Time- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Chapter 2 (Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there? On to Chapter 3 >> << Back to Chapter 1

Aoife cheats on her math test...with disastrous results.

Blue balls for Five ahead.

Chapter 2: The Bike Shorts

When you enter the bedroom, Five’s lying on top of the sheets, still in his cycling gear (minus the helmet).He looks almost entirely calm now, chest rising and falling only slightly harder than usual. He flashes you his most charming smile, however, patting the bed beside him. 

“Aoife ok?” he asks.

“Fine. Back to rolling her eyes.”

“Good,” he grins up at you, “well that was a shitshow.”

You flop down next to him and melt into his embrace.

“What brought it on?”

“It was stupid. I rode past the Argyle Public Library.” he runs his fingers through his hair, “it’s been demolished.”

“Oh.”

You understand immediately. It had been his and Dolores’ home base, enough of the internal structure left standing to provide them with shelter to sleep. It had been the closest thing he’d had to a home for him for forty years: the longest he’d ever lived anywhere.

“Wanna know something funny? They must be halfway through: the way they pulled it down, it looked exactly the same. The same parts were left standing.” a bitter smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

You know his mind now almost as intimately as your own: he’s not just talking about the way the two timelines rhyme.

“It’s been ten years since I had a freakout like that,” he says, resentfully. “I been to therapy every two weeks minimum , I take the damn pills religiously and still I lose my ever-loving shit over a building.”

You ease his hand out of the fist he’s screwed it into. You take a breath to respond to him but he plows over you.

“And I know what you’re going to say: the state I was in when we got together, it’s amazing that I haven’t had a major freakout for ten years. Maybe if I weren’t taking the pills, I’d be losing my mind every damn day, and I know therapy isn’t a cure-all, it just helps you work with what you got but…”

He pauses for a second, frustration on hold as his conscious mind catches up with what he’s said. Then he gives a rough laugh.

“And you’d be right,” he rolls to face you, smiling genuinely now.

“You said it all for me,” you shrug, smiling back at him.

The realization seems to have bolstered him:

“So, all in all, I give myself five stars for that panic attack. Threw it off like a champ.”

“You did,” you smile, leaning over and kissing his lips gently.

He’s always thought you have the sweetest lips. Maddening, in fact.

Even after all these years, the lines of your body are still the delight of his eye, particularly the ones that have developed since you’ve been with him. Everything you’d tell yourself is imperfection is, for him, just another object of devotion. After all, the stretch marks, wrinkles and reduced elasticity are all products of the fifteen years you’ve given to him: sixteen Christmases; fifteen fourth of Julys; fifteen whole trips around the sun that you chose to spend with him when you should have run a mile right at the start. 

He wants to celebrate that, wants to love you physically and worship your body with his.

The kiss you give him is only just beyond a peck, but he leans into your perfect mouth and works his way between your lips. You pull away before he’s half done. 

Honestly…it’s been a while. He’s kept his frustration quiet: work has been troubling you. It’s fine: it’s just a matter of feeling stressed on top of getting a little older. He knows it’s not because you love him any less…academically, at least. He can take care of himself ok and even if you never had sex ever again that’s perfectly fine: he’s in this for the long haul, no matter what. 

He’d cope…he’d adapt. He’d find a way to not ogle you, mouth dry, every time you get undressed. He’d spent most of his life having, (with all respect to his first long-term partner), sub-optimal sex. Now he’s had fifteen years of amazing sex, it’s almost unbearable to imagine having to just  ‘make do’ again. But he will if he needs to. 

He hates feeling needy. It’s a form of vulnerability he’s not yet able to reconcile in himself. It doesn’t feel so long ago but he remembers how you used to look up at him with needy eyes… Maybe tonight can break the dry spell.

“Say…how about you and I…”

You look at him with amusement, “Really, Five?”

“Come on….” he adjusts his body so he’s leant against the headboard and you can see his hand skimming down his body towards his crotch, “you know you like the bike shorts.”

“You’re seriously going straight from a major panic attack to horny?”

In answer, ghosts his fingers over his package. The shorts certainly are tight… Were you in the mood, something about them would make you want to reach in there and root around to see what you can find. They cling attractively in all the right places, stopping an inch or so above the knee. As if his bulge wasn’t enough, the way they sculpt themselves around his muscled thighs and perfectly peachy ass is…noticeable, to say the least.

“I’m a little tired.” you say, not wanting to burst his bubble but hoping he’ll take the hint. 

“I can be quick,” he says, trying to keep the slight plea out of his voice, “you could call me daddy again, if you want. Aoife hasn’t called me that in years now.”

“Nice try, Five,” you smirk, “maybe next time.”

“Oh, I’m not trying,” he says, rising to a kneel, turning and straddling your thighs, “I’m succeeding.”

He’s half-joking but nevertheless trying his luck, deliberately raising a rock-hard tent beneath his hand. Then, he rises on the bed into a high kneel.

Even in your totally unaroused state, the look he fixes you with almost makes you feel like a hooked fish being reeled in. He looms over you, head tilted and arrogant smirk firmly in place. He looks down his long nose as he paws at his boner, circling his hips. The shorts really are obscene. They would only have to be one iota tighter for them to cling to every single vein on his fit-to-burst shaft. As it stands, the lycra outlines the bell-shaped tip of his cock in minute anatomical detail.

It's a beguiling sight, but not beguiling enough.

“You’re still one hot grandpa but I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling it.”

He gives a small smile of acceptance and kisses your forehead before he swings his leg over and gets off you, heading for the ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll take care of myself,” he says as he peels off his cycling gear.. Then, in a final bid, he adds, “guess I’ll have to take a shower, lather up real good, lean up against the tiles and whack myself off with the suds…”

“Yeah, guess you will.” you say, picking up your reading glasses and the book off your nightstand. 

Five stifles a sigh and enters the bathroom; boner leading the way like a perky seeing-eye-dog. As he shuts and locks the door behind him, he leans against it.  It looks like it’s another night of jacking himself off into the shower tray. He tries not to feel hurt, tries to keep in mind all the reasonable thoughts from before. The humiliation of trying so hard only to be rejected? Rejected kindly, lovingly, but still rejected. He’s not going to degrade himself so far as to beg for sex. He’ll never be that pathetic. 

Thank god for his left hand: it’s been there for him for nearly 80 years now and it’s always in the mood whenever he is.

The Trevor Dalton school covers PreK through to 12th grade. You’d initially felt conflicted about sending Aoife to private school but, for Five, only the best education money could buy would do for his daughter, regardless of your ‘commie bullshit’. You couldn’t help but agree emotionally; she deserved the best.

Overall, you’d been pleased with her progress: she had a firm group of friends and she enjoyed her extracurriculars- particularly band. Despite this, her math scores worried you both. Though Five had taken to tutoring her himself, she was showing little improvement in school. You’d both been pleased, therefore, to see how much time Aoife had spent holed up in her room studying for an upcoming math test.

Aoife certainly has been studying for her math test…just not in the way you and Five might think. She’s been practicing religiously every night before sleep. Every time, her temporal jumps are getting longer and without the need for all that stupid math. Last night, she managed to reverse an entire hour without even turning a hair. She can do it quickly too- she doesn’t have to force herself through the seconds like her dad seems to: she can just do it. He won’t know what’s hit him when she shows him what she knows. 

Were she to sit down and analyze her feelings, she’d be unsure precisely why she wants this so much, whether she wants to make him proud or piss him off. Most of all, she wants to prove that she’s not a baby. All she can do is imagine the look in his eyes when she jumps through time with him along for the ride.

The math test will be her first time using her skills in the real world. She never blinked at school, (she’d learned early on that letting too many people in on the fact you have superpowers doesn’t end well) but jumping through time was different: when you went backwards, you’d erase anyone’s memory that you’d done anything unusual.

The test was in-class, and Aoife had taken care to discover the format before the big day. Mr Douglas would put the questions up on the board, the class would have thirty minutes to answer the questions and then, at the end, they would pass their answers to another student to mark and he would reveal the answers.

Sitting at her desk now, she’s full to bursting with nervous excitement. She can barely concentrate during the test, (not that she needs to), but she fills in stuff anyway. When Mr Douglas calls time and reveals the answers, she’s trembling so much that she’s surprised nobody’s noticed.

She passes her piece of paper to Izzie seated behind her and takes Jack’s from up ahead. Ignoring his paper, she grabs a fresh sheet of her own and begins to write down the right answers. This is what she’ll hand in…now she just has to make sure that this piece of paper is the one she passes to Izzie.

Holding her correct answers in one hand to exempt it from the reversal of time, she reaches easily into the abyss. It’s second nature now; couldn’t be any easier. It’s cool to watch. Alone in her bedroom, it was hard to see the effects; it's different in a crowded classroom. Jack’s pen reverses, going from right to left; eventually, he turns and takes his test back from her desk while Izzie hands Aoife’s over her shoulder. This, Aoife screws into a ball and drops into her backpack. The answers on the smartboard disappear as Mr Douglas moonwalks into his chair and the booger Kevin Simmons flicked across the room returns to his finger and he places it back up his nose.

Aoife lets go. Only somebody watching her closely would notice her jolt.

“And that’s time,” said Mr Douglas, “pass your test to the lady or gentlemen behind you. Ladies and Gentlemen at the back, bring your tests to the front of your row.”

Grinning all over her face, Aoife passes her new answers to Izzie.

Five spent most of the day with Luther who, for once in his life, has had a brain wave.

They’d been in Five’s bedroom, using the huge dry-erase and a plethora of colored post-its to plot out his idea: a non profit focused on helping male survivors of sexual violence. 

Five helped mainly out of solitarily with Luther: arranging support groups and having to break the ice with the story of his own rape wasn’t exactly appealing, but Luther’s bright blue eyes were so alight at the the possible scope of the idea (that he dubbed ‘The Umbrella Foundation’), that Five was willing to put his misgivings aside for now. He'd suck it up if he had to. 

When Aoife gets home from school she barrels into the room when he and Luther still stand, contemplating the timelines and tenuous organizational structure they’ve drafted. 

After a quick hug for Luther, she passes Five her test and smiles coyly at him. 

“What’s this?” he says, smiling back.

“Unfold it and see!”

He does so and his eyes light up, even as he affects to look casual. He stands with one hand in his pants pocket and his hips loose

“An A+? Jeez, where was this the other day? And not a single wrong answer?”

“You’re surprised, right?” she smiles up at him

“Surprised? Proud is what I am.”

He grins and pulls her into a full hug which she, for once, reciprocates.

“Ben fatto, tesoro. Hai lavorato sodo.”

“ Grazie papa.”

She has worked hard for this. Maybe he wouldn’t think of it that way, but she has.

“Well done sweetheart.” smiles Luther, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You see what you can do when you set your mind to it?” says Five, kissing her forehead and holdung her at arm’s length, “How about I take you out this weekend? Maybe we take Izzie too? What do thirteen-year-old girls do these days? The...mall or whatever?”

Aoife snorts laughter at this, “yeah sure Dad, we’ll go to the mall.”

“Well I don’t know what you guys like to do. You’re the first teen girl I’ve spoken to for fifty-five years!”

Five’s never sure why, but he never feels as old around anyone as he does his daughter. Despite speaking seven languages, Teen Girl is one he can’t get his head around.

When Aoife bounds out of the room again, Luther turns to Five with a significant look on his face.

“She just runs into your bedroom...without knocking?”

Five knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

“Yes,” he says, testily before looking sidelong at Luther and lowering his voice, “not exactly much for her to walk in on these days.”

Luther gives him a sympathetic look and turns back to the dry erase.

When you arrive home, long after Luther’s drifted downstairs, you’re instantly more skeptical than Five. To go from a D+ average to an A+ with no steps between? You smell bullshit. Perhaps it’s a fluke…but something about the way Aoife shows you the test sets off warning bells in your head. You don’t want to accuse her if this really is the product of hard work, but you’re worried you’ll have to. While she practices the drums after dinner and you sit with Five on the couch, already feeling guilty about raining on his parade.

“This math test…pretty surprising, right?”

From the tone of your voice, he immediately realizes your implication. Fifteen years of a relationship has given you so many little shorthands and layers of implication that would be lost on others. The line between his eyebrows deepens as he considers.

“You think she cheated?”

“I don’t know, but it seems a bit too good to be true. When her homework’s been so poor and she could barely do simple algebra last week?”

His lips pull inwards. He’s by nature a rather cynical man, tending to believe the worst in people until they prove him wrong, but he has a blind spot the size of Jupiter when it comes to his daughter.

“She knows how important it is that she learns. She wouldn’t mislead me.”

Really Five? You raise your eyebrows at him incredulously.

“She’s a teen. Pushing boundaries and lying to their parents is what they do.”

His scowl deepens, “I still don’t think she’d lie about this.”

You sigh.

“Well, I’m going to go talk to her. You’re telling me she didn’t seem weird to you? Like she’s got a huge secret?” 

He nods slowly, considering. 

“Do you remember when she was six and stockpiling candy under her bed? She was pulling the exact same face.”

Reluctantly, Five follows you as you knock at her bedroom door. It’s amazing she hears you over her drumming, but she does. When you both walk into the room together, she stiffens and puts down her drumsticks

“Hey honey,” you say, Five at your shoulder but skulking slightly behind, “we just wanted to have a talk.”

“What about?” she says, too quickly. She’s immediately on the defense and even Five notices.

“Well, we were just talking, and we’re concerned.” you cross to the bed and sit down on it, trying to appear less threatening. Five remains standing, hands (as ever) in his pockets and head tilted. You catch his eye and prompt him.

“Did you cheat on that test?”

Great job Five. Subtle as a flying brick.

Immediately she looks panicked.

“No!”

“Just tell us the truth and we won’t be mad," you say, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I said I didn’t!” she snaps, firing up immediately.

You move to placate her: it suddenly strikes you how unjust this would be if she actually did earn her score.

“I know you’ve been studying this week and if you’ve got this score because you’ve worked your butt off then we couldn’t be more proud of you, it’s just…my Mom senses are tingling. I know when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” says Five, stepping forward and grabbing a notebook and pen from within his jacket pocket. He scribbles rapidly and then slaps both down on her dressing table.

“How about you prove it? Expand this.”

He looks more pissed than she’s ever seen him directed at her. Feeling a mixture of shame, anger and injustice Aoife stands and approaches looking down at the scrawled problem:

5(12c + 7) - (1 - 55c)

There it is. The familiar panic that sets in when she encounters numbers in almost any context. She picks up the pen. She knows where to start but when she tries to perform the expansion, it’s like her brain crashes. She tries to concentrate and can’t…especially with both of them staring down at her.

“That’s way too hard!” she whines, “I can’t do that one. The test was easier. You just make them way too complex because your brain is all weird about math.”

“Oh, well that's interesting.” Five’s voice is dangerous- almost a whisper. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me. Wanna take a quick guess how?”

She doesn’t answer, even when he jerks his head towards her.

“No answer, eh?” he turns from her to you, “Do you want to know how I know she’s bullshitting us, Mom?”

You frown in slight disapproval of this theater, but it’s about time Five stepped up to be the bad guy so you keep your mouth shut. He turns back to Aoife, teeth slightly bared,

“That was a question ON the test, genius.”

Her face heats up and eyes prickle. Five just gives a disdainful scoff, shakes his head and looks away from her.

“Tell us the truth, Aoife,” you say, sternly, trying to keep your own temper under control, “you cheated, didn’t you?”

She turns to you and stamps her foot in a way you haven’t seen since she was six, “Just shut up Mom!”

As Five gives a sharp reprimand for her speaking to you that way, you speak over him,

“First you cheat and then you keep denying it? You’re still lying. I’m so disappointed that you’d be this dishonest.You’ve not just cheated us, you’ve cheated your classmates and you’ve cheated yourself too!”

Suddenly, Five turns back to her, shoulders rolled and hunched in the awful posture he adopts when stressed or angry.

“You know, I couldn’t give a rat's ass that you cheated. I’m just still trying to get my head around the fact you lied to me about this !” he begins to pace distractedly, “you know how important it is that you UNDERSTAND basic mathematical principles. It’s a matter of life and death! ”

You turn to Five, angry with him now.

“So you don’t care that she lied at school, only to you?”

Five tosses his head and returns his gaze to his daughter standing between the pair of you. Hormonal rage courses through her. Right now, she’s as erratic as Five ever was in his prime.

“I don’t even need math to be able to use my powers! It’s not my fault your head’s so far up your own ass that you can’t jump a few minutes without filling a whole wall with equations!”

“Aoife!” you rebuke, shocked by this attitude towards her father, but she ignores you.

“I did cheat, okay? And you wanna know how I did it? I just wound back time-”

Five blinks at her, dumbstruck. He looks as if he’s been clubbed over the head.

“-and you know what, Dad? I’m still here. I didn’t end up years in the future and get stuck there like a dumbass! ”

You spring up from the bed, grab her shoulders and turn her to face you. Her eyes are wild with anger, face red and teeth bared even more than Five’s had been only a minute or so before.

“How can you speak to your Dad like that? How dare you? After-”

But the rage that’s been building in her bubbles over. All she wants is for you both to get out of her room. You think just because you’re her parents that you know better? You don’t: you especially don’t get it. Always so far up your own ass, judging her for every time she falls under your ridiculously high moral standards. Nothing short of sainthood is good enough for you.

She can feel full-body tingles growing as anger descends over her. It makes her grab your forearms. If she’d been less angry, she might have noticed the crackle of electricity or the feeling of polarity accessed in her mind…the feeling of the last jigsaw piece slipping into place…

“JUST GET AWAY FROM ME, MOM!”

…but the whole puzzle explodes as she pushes you abruptly. She only means to shove you in the direction of the door, but the portal that erupts swallows you whole, collapsing in on itself before you can even stumble.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

On to Chapter 3 >> Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[springnote]

Thigh Riding HCs

includes: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, and Choso

warnings: nsfw minors dni, gn reader with pussy, edging, praise kink, slight degradation, slight voyeurism, spanking and hair pulling mention, Gojo himself

Gojo

• he is the ultimate tease and won’t let you reach orgasm without putting you through the ringer

• he loves sex, and anything relating to it, but if you’re desperate enough to struggle on his thigh for his viewing pleasure, who is he to refuse you?

• “You’re such a desperate slut you can’t even wait for me?” He’ll chuckle, and expect to feel so sharp pinches at your ass and nipples while he watches you, his cock stirring at every noise you make.

• he’ll edge you several times, helping you pick up a good rhythm only to force you still, leaning forward to kiss you as a small apology

• when he’s ready to let you come, he’ll remove his hands from your waist so he can deliver sharp smacks to your ass and pull your hair, or anything he thinks will have you squealing in pleasure.

Geto

• Geto likes to tease you too, but he also likes to treat you like your his empress/emperor, so long as you treat him the same as he watches you.

• He’ll lean back in his bed, fine silks all around you as he has you rut on his robed thighs, keeping you completely naked save for some relaxing rose oil on your joints to pamper you.

• The whole thing is essentially foreplay, he’ll get turned on by your sounds and you calling him “my lord” or something fancy, and he’ll praise you for “preparing yourself to be plowed into the sheets”

• he doesn’t know why he enjoys the fantasy so much, maybe he’s kinkier than he thought or he likes spoiling you with ill-gotten gains but either way he’ll move his thigh just enough to make you leave wetness on his robe

• then his hair is pulled back and he’ll lay you on your stomach, giving you a few moments to come down from your high before the real fun begins

Nanami

• Nanami enjoys spending any time with you he can, especially intimately, but his work keeps him so busy and drained he can’t always do what he wants with you, and that upsets him. However, when you bring up riding his thigh while he works, his interest is piqued.

• holding his phone in one hand and guiding you back and forth with the other feels perfectly natural to him, a few moans slipping out whenever your ass bumps into his erection, making you even wetter.

• he’ll gently cover your mouth if he has to answer a phone call, but if it’s someone too nosy like Gojo, he’ll have you use his tie like a gag, telling you “We don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound, so we?”

• If you make it through that without cumming, he’ll place his phone down and guide you to rut against his erection through his clothes, until both of you cum in your pants

• After this he’ll want to do it again, he might even bring you to work with him, letting you ride his thigh at his desk while he tries to focus on work.

Choso

• for Choso, he prefers to do this at home when you’re both fully nude. He’s obsessed with your body and wants to see all of it, and he sees you riding his thigh as very intimate and super hot.

• He’s not as much of a tease as the others, but he wants to go slow so he can watch you unravel bit by bit while he caresses you and tells you how good you are.

• “You’re doing so well, please cum on my thigh for me, please.” He’ll beg, kissing your neck and flexing his thighs occasionally to help push you to the edge, ignoring his own leaking cock.

• After this he’ll do anything you want, fuck you, eat you out, let you fuck him, take a bath, go to bed, literally anything. But please let him use your cum to lube his cock so he can jerk off, it’ll drive him wild.

• Honestly, thigh riding is one of his favorite things to do with you, he will even ask if he can ride your thigh sometime, just so he can take in your expressions as you watch him, and he’ll probably come harder than he’s ever come before.

[ladyfogg]

The Arrangement - Part 1

The Arrangement - Part 1

Fic Summary: Drowning in problems of his own making, Arthur Havisham seeks the aid of the one person in the world who knows him better than anyone else. But what will it cost him this time? (Part 2) (Part 3)

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Arthur Havisham/Male Reader

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Mentions of Abuse (physical proof of abuse), Mutual Pining, Oral (Male Receiving and Giving), Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Internalized Homophobia

A/N: Alright so I started writing this when I was watching Episode 4 and then the end of Episode 5 happened and I saw red. Needless to say, I needed to write something to give Arthur the love and comfort he needs.

The night is biting cold, snow whipping around in a swirling vortex of ice and wind.

Late is the hour, barren streets proving Arthur Havisham should not be out. And yet, he is, his boots and walking stick echoing on the snowy stone. He does not feel nor notice the cold, his veins and belly filled with the heat of the gin he downed before leaving his small room. His back still aches, sharp pains every time his shirt brushes against the fresh cuts. It had taken all day to work up the courage to leave, only doing so when he was sure Compeyson would not be returning.

As he approaches the daunting building, he cannot help the cacophony of emotions rolling around in his stomach. It almost makes him sick but he pushes it down. However, that could also be the gin.

Arthur stops just shy of the gates, staring at the manor he hasn’t visited in years.

If it were up to him, he would not be here. He would not even be considering such a path. But as it was, he is desperate. Meriwether Compeyson has proven to be far more dangerous and more trouble than he’s worth. His interests are purely self-serving and if Arthur does not get the help he needs, he will have more than his reputation to worry about. His very life depends on it.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur opens the gate and follows the path to the front door.

A servant answers after several knocks. A young woman, one he’s never seen before. Then again, it’s been ages since he’s stepped foot in this house. She welcomes him in with a bow and offers him a place in the parlor where he can warm by the fire.

“Whom shall I say has called when I speak to the master?” she asks in a soft voice.

“Tell him Arthur is here to see him.”

She nods and hurries off to do as she’s told. Arthur takes off his hat as he stands before the fireplace, the heat of the flames trying to chase the chill away. It’s failing miserably because the chill Arthur is feeling has nothing to do with the winter night. He stares at the clock on the mantle, studying his reflection on its perfectly polished surface. He looks tired, his hair and clothes not as crisp or clean as he’s accustomed to. There are dark circles under his red eyes. He had stopped crying hours ago but it hasn’t yet faded. To him, he looks every bit the desperate scared man he is.

Footsteps sound on the main stairs.

Arthur’s heart races in time with them, listening as they draw closer, his breathing increasing with each second that passes.

“Well, well, well, as I live and breathe.”

Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, bracing himself for the onslaught of emotions as he turns around to face you.

He’s not prepared. He thought he would be, but the moment he lays his eyes on you everything else melts away leaving you the only thing in focus. The state of your clothing suggests he interrupted your evening routine, as he knew he would. A simple white shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves loose around your crossed arms. Complimented by finely tailored trousers and shiny black boots.

“I apologize for the late hour,” Arthur says, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Unfortunately, I could not wait until morning.”

“You’re always welcome here, Arthur. I believe I made that clear once upon a time.”

Yes. Yes, you did. Arthur remembers it vividly despite his best efforts. He finds himself fiddling with the hat in his hands. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You regard him with a carefully schooled expression. He knows you’re taking him in, seeing the same things he scrutinized in his own reflection.

“Come,” you say, motioning for him to follow. “Leave your hat and such here. The maid will take care of it. You look like you could use a hot meal and a large drink.”

You’re not wrong.

Hands shaking, Arthur leaves his hat, coat, and walking stick on a nearby chair before following you out of the parlor. He knows where you’re leading him. He remembers running through these halls when you two were boys, hiding out and listening to your fathers talk business.

Pass the main dining room, down the small hallway to the left, and into your favorite room in the house, the sitting room. Your father made it yours when you grew into adolescence and Arthur remembers the lengthy chats the two of you shared in those comfortable winged-back chairs. Someone, no doubt the maid from earlier, had already brought the fire back to blazing and a silver tray sits on the table between the chairs.

Grateful for the warmth, Arthur takes the one on the right out of habit. It’s so ingrained from his younger years that he doesn’t even think about it. Although, when he means to lean back, he is stopped by pain and must remain sitting up straight.

You close the door behind you. He feels you watching him, feels the intensity of your gaze on the back of his head. When you cross the room and take the chair to Arthur’s left, your expression has changed. As it always did when you were alone.

Arthur envies you for that as much as he hates you for it. It’s a skill he has yet to master and yet you make it effortless. You make a lot of things effortless.

On the tray are two meat pies still warm but by no means fresh from the oven. Along with fruits and cheeses, and a steaming pot of tea which you pick up. You pour him some first.

“Tea isn’t exactly the drink I was hoping for,” Arthur says.

“But it’s what you need. You look chilled to the bone. Is the fire warm enough?”

It’d be easier if you weren’t so nice to him. Arthur almost prefers the opposite, when your personalities clash and that underlying rivalry bred into you by your fathers and their business comes to the surface. It makes what he has to say even harder.

“Yes, thank you,” Arthur says.

You hand him the tea and when he reaches for the cup, your fingers brush.

And linger.

But then you’re pouring your tea and he thinks he may have imagined it.

“Why are you here, Arthur?” you ask. “We haven’t spoken in years. Not at length at least. Not since that day.”

Yes. That day.

Arthur reminds himself of his purpose and does not dwell on the memories. “I am afraid I find myself in trouble,” he says. He’s holding his tea but has yet been able to take a sip. “And I can’t find my way out.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“The dangerous kind.”

You study him over the rim of your cup. After a thoughtful sip, you put it down. Leaning forward, you rest your elbows on your knees and give him your full attention.

“Start at the beginning,” you say.

Arthur does. He tells you everything. About the will, his meager inheritance. His plan to manipulate his sister into signing things over to him. How he enlisted the help of Meriwether Compeyson, and how he’s been blackmailing Arthur to serve his own means demanding money that he does not have.

He does not mention the beating. It is hard enough being so open, he cannot bear the thought of revealing the physical pain his adversary inflicted on him.

By the time he’s done, you haven’t said a word. However, you do pinch the bridge of your nose and hang your head. “Bloody hell, Arthur. What were you thinking?”

“Things are out of hand. It was not supposed to be this way.”

“That is an understatement. Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”

Arthur is hanging on by the thinnest of threads and his anger flares at your words. “I don’t need a lecture, I didn’t come here for that.”

“Then why did you come here?” you ask, your voice tinged with agitation. “Why did you come to me of all people? You could have spoken to Amelia, let her know what this Compeyson is planning. But you didn’t. You came, to me.”

Arthur puts his untouched tea down. Doubt seeps into him like the icy winds outside. “This was a mistake,” he says. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem. I should not have brought it to you. I thought—”

“What, Arthur? What did you think?”

Arthur can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Doesn’t want to because he already knows what he’s going to see in them. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening. I will take my leave.”

He stands, fully intending to flee back into the cold streets, to flee your warmth, to flee the intensity of your gaze that always seems to burn into his very soul.

A hand closes around his wrist, stopping him. He turns to look at you. You’re standing now, so swift he didn’t even hear you move. “I want to help you, Arthur. I just need to know why.”

Arthur swallows thickly. It’s so difficult when you’re this close. When you’re touching. He pulls his arm from your grasp.

“Because despite the fact that you know my secret, I know yours too,” he says, trying to pull himself together.

You look amused. “Planning to blackmail me as well then?”

“If it comes to it. You’re a confirmed bachelor. You’ve never taken a wife. People talk.”

“I see, so you think planting rumors will do the trick? I’m a powerful man, Arthur. My connections run deep. Ever since my father died, my word is law with my shareholders and it will take a lot to convince them I am anything other than an upstanding member of society.”

Arthur’s temper flares once more, that fire of shame fueled by the inferiority he faces first with his sister, then with Compeyson, and now with you. “How upstanding would they think you to be if they hear you were caught on your knees for another man?” he asks, stepping forward in his anger.

You meet his outburst with a smirk, leaning in even closer, sharing his space. “And whose cock was I sucking, Arthur?”

And there it is. The truth. The dirty awful truth that sent Arthur into a spiral of self-loathing and immense shame. His cheeks flush red and he purses his lips, lacking a response for the mere fact that he has none.

You know you have him. He knows you have him.

Taking a moment, you step away and cross the room to your desk. It startles Arthur to realize you still work from this room, even though your father’s study is yours now by right. You open the drawer and pull out a thick stack of papers. Arthur is rooted to his spot, unable to do anything but watch you.

“Do you know what these are?” you ask, holding them up so he can see yet not turning to face him.

“No.”

“They are your letters. Every letter you ever sent me. Even the ones from childhood, when I was shipped off to boarding school and we were separated. Haven’t gotten any in a few years but they’re all here.”

Arthur��s heart skips a beat. His breath catches in his throat and he finds himself dizzy. “All of them?” he asks in a soft voice.

“All of them. Every single one.”

“Why did you keep them?”

That’s when you turn to look at him. “Why do you think?”

Arthur has no response. He wishes he did. He wishes he knew what to say. Deep down, he knows why he’s here. Why he came to you even as he tells you otherwise. You stand there staring, waiting for him to say what he cannot.

After a moment, you sigh and put the papers back. “How much do you owe Scrooge?”

“Fifty.”

You grab something from your desk before crossing the room toward Arthur. You hold out a bundle of money, far more than fifty. “Take it, it’s yours. Pay off the debt and keep your share of the brewery. It was foolish to put it up anyway.”

Arthur doesn’t allow himself to feel relief just yet. “What will this cost me?”

You sigh and grab his wrist again, this time it’s to put the money in his hand. “Despite what you may think, not everyone in this city is out to get you. Pay off your debt and go back home.”

“I don’t have a home to go back to,” Arthur says hotly. “He left everything, everything to Amelia. All I was left with was a lousy ten percent and told to figure it out. And it’s all because of you.”

You snort with amusement, sitting in your chair. “Tell yourself what you want, Arthur, but I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want. I didn’t force myself on you. And, as I recall, you kissed me first.”

That…is true. Arthur can deny it to himself all he’d like, but this is you he’s dealing with. You who knows him, the real him, better than anyone else. You who have always been there when he needed you.

And you’re here even now when Arthur abandoned your friendship.

“I’m not ashamed of who I am, Arthur,” you say. “Never have been. As furious as my father was, I didn’t backtrack. You may have been able to pin it all on me and that suited your father all well and good, but me? I told my father how I felt. And when he died, I was ready. Fully ready to be penniless. And yet…” You wave a hand to indicate the house around you.

“I’m glad to know your father loved you no matter what,” Arthur says with bitterness in his voice. “While I have been paying for who I am every single day of my life. Suffering, alone.”

“You don’t have to be alone!” you snap, getting to your feet again. “For god’s sake, Arthur! I’m here! I’ve always been here! You were the one who ran away and you were the one who ended our friendship. And I’m sorry that your father couldn’t accept you. But I will not apologize for mine.”

Tears threaten to fall. No matter what he does, Arthur can’t stop them. He turns away so you won’t see. You don’t let him. You slip your hand into his curls and pull him against your chest in a hug.

Despite himself, Arthur melts into the embrace. It’s been long, far too long. He’s forgotten how this feels, how wonderful it is to have your solid frame against his, to feel your hand in his hair and your arm around his waist. He cries, lets the tears go as strangled sobs break through his pursed lips. He does not know how long he stands there crying into your shoulder. But it’s long enough for the tears to eventually fade. He’s too tired, too drained to shed anymore.

Arthur closes his eyes and savors the moment. He doesn’t try to pull away or push you because he can’t bring himself to do either.

Your heat and scent envelop him, triggering memories of years ago when the playful innocence of youth turned into something else, something more.

He was the one to kiss you first, a chaste peck on the cheek in the heat of the moment. Then you looked at him and the next thing he knew, he was covering your mouth with his, yanking you in close and throwing caution into the wind. It never occurred to him in the moment that it was meant to be wrong, that he should not have those feelings. How could it be when you kissed him back with equal passion?

No kiss with anyone else matched it before or has matched it since.

You draw back from the hug, wiping the tears from his cheeks before pushing his curls back from his face. You’re staring at his lips and he aches to close the distance, to give in to the desires he buried deep down long ago.

But he can’t.

He breaks the embrace, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the money still in his hands. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll repay you as soon as I am able.”

“You don’t have to.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “You haven’t touched your food.”

“It is late. I should leave. I’ve taken enough of your time as is.”

“If you insist. I’ll show you to the door.”

In silence, you walk back down the hall. Hearing your footsteps, the maid rushes ahead to gather Arthur’s things.

“Thank you, Marina. I will see Arthur out myself. You may retire for the evening,” you tell her.

She nods and leaves. You take Arthur’s coat and hold it out for him to easily slip on. When he does, it puts pressure on his cuts and he lets out an involuntary hiss. He can sense your concern but ignores it. While he puts on his hat, you open the front door to reveal the beginnings of a snowstorm. Arthur busies himself with the gloves in his pocket, trying to appear as though he’s putting them on when really he’s stalling. He can’t bring himself to leave yet, doesn’t want to leave your warmth so quickly.

“You be careful out there,” you say, motioning to the weather. “Lord knows we’re due for another blizzard. Are you sure you’re okay to walk? What about this Compeyson fellow?”

“I am sure he’s thoroughly distracted at the moment. I will be just fine.” He hopes.

You study Arthur for a moment. “Do you remember when we were young and would sneak out of the house to avoid our studies?” you ask with a smile.

Arthur smiles back, recalling the memories with fondness. “We’d use the old servant’s entrance in the gardens. Until your father boarded it up.”

“There are many advantages of being master of the house now,” you say, leaning on the door. “For one thing, I can undo things my father did. And, since none of the servants who serve me ever served my father, they are completely oblivious to such facts.”

Arthur’s heart skips a beat. Your tone is casual, however, your words are anything but.

“If someone knew where to look, should they be inclined, they’d be able to sneak in without anyone being the wiser. Food for thought, Arthur. Have a good night.”

He's left on the doorstep without another word.

He has the money, can repay Scrooge, and figure out everything with Compeyson in the morning. Maybe with what’s leftover he can buy himself a few days reprieve from the scoundrel.

Arthur slowly exhales and turns to face the cold winter’s night once more. He gets to the front gate, opens it. And yet, he can’t help but look back at the house, the place where he discovered himself in ways he never imagined. The heat of your hug is lingering and before he realizes what he’s doing, Arthur closes the gate once more.

He leaves tracks in the freshly fallen snow as he follows the all-too-familiar path around back to the gardens. Your thoughts on the weather were accurate. Arthur is in the midst of a full blizzard now and he knows his footprints will be gone in moments.

Where the old entrance once stood is now a wall of ivy, dead and snow-covered. Arthur pushes it aside, his eyes falling on the simple wooden door. He tries the handle and it yields to him.

Arthur pauses, weighing the consequences of what he’s about to do before he steps through.

The hall is dark and cold. He listens for the sounds of movement but finds none. Arthur knocks the snow from his boots before ascending the old wooden staircase. It doesn’t creak as he’d expect it to, like it used to. The boards must have recently been nailed down to prevent such noise.

A single door stands at the top of the stairs and Arthur walks through it. There is resistance at first, which he eventually realizes is because the door is hidden behind a thick tapestry. He finds himself in the familiar hallway that hasn’t changed since his last visit. He doubts it has changed much in generations.

At first, he makes for your room until he remembers you’re not there. Why would you be? You’re the master of the house.

Up the main staircase, quiet as he can be, Arthur ascends to the top floor where the master’s suite is. Like the rest of the house, its dark say for the light on under the door. His heart is racing, has been since you hugged him and now it’s threatening to escape his chest. Anticipation and apprehension are fighting for dominance.

Arthur takes a moment, collects himself, then turns the handle. It is not locked.

This is a room he’s never been in before. He steps into an entrance chamber, draped in tapestries and fine art. The first thing he notices are the shoes you were wearing sitting by the door. Taking your lead, Arthur removes his wet boots. He leans his walking stick against the wall. His hat, gloves, and coat find purchase on the floor as he sheds his outer layer before making for the main bedchamber.

Your back is to him this time. Your bare back.

You’re standing in front of the fireplace, your hand resting on the mantle. All you are wearing are your trousers. Arthur studies you, allows himself to admire and appreciate the image before him. You’re no longer the young man he used to know so well. Then again, neither is he.

When he starts to walk toward you, you turn to look at him.

Your steps match his and the two of you meet in the middle of the room in a desperate kiss.

Your hands cradle his face, your mouth hungrily seeking his. And Arthur lets you, wants you to, can’t help but finally give in to what his body has been craving ever since you were caught that fateful day.

He wraps an arm around your waist and clutches you close. His hand comes up to lay over yours, making sure you don’t stop cradling his face because now that you’re touching him, he needs more.

Arthur’s legs hitting the bed takes him by surprise. He didn’t even feel you push him. Or did he pull you? It may have been a combination.

Your hands reach for his trousers.

He can’t help but moan, mouth still furiously attacking yours in a frenzy of teeth and tongues. His hands freely roam your back, marveling at the soft skin, wishing he hadn’t run away. How could he think he’d be able to live without you? Without the way your mouth nipped at his, or how your quick hands open his trousers with deft fingers.

You draw back, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide with desire. “Is this what you want, Arthur?” you ask in a low voice, your nose brushing his. “Once this happens, truly happens, you can’t take it back.”

“I don’t want to take it back.”

“Are you sure? There will be no hard feelings if you do.”

Arthur cups the back of your neck and tugs you down into a kiss. He wants this. He wants you. Has wanted you for as long as he can remember. There’s been a dark hole in his heart the last few years, ever since he pushed you away and he doesn’t want it anymore.

It’s your turn to moan, your turn to melt against him.

The solid weight of you is thrilling. Arthur can’t stop touching you, his hands exploring your chest while your mouths hungrily seek each other’s.

His trousers are open and now that you have his permission, you slip your hand into them, wrapping around his cock.

Arthur moans, a deep satisfied sound that resonates through his whole body. It’s been too long since you’ve touched him, far too long. His body comes alive, back arching in an attempt to bring himself as close to you as possible. Your free hand tugs down the collar of his shirt, exposing his smooth pale neck to your eager lips.

How can this be wrong? How can the world tell him that your love isn’t real? It’s real to him. You’re more real than anything Arthur has ever known. Your hand starts to pump his cock with sure strokes. You remember what he likes, remember how to squeeze and rub just the right way, the way that makes Arthur a trembling needy mess.

He's wearing far too many layers.

You must have the same thought because you yank his shirt free from his open trousers and slide your hands under the thick material. Arthur suddenly remembers the marks on his back a second too late. Your hand finds one and he yanks away with a hiss of pain.

Your eyes are wide. “Arthur,” you say in a low, careful voice. “What happened?”

The shame is back but for an entirely different reason. Carefully, Arthur pulls his shirt off, eyes trained on the ground and rimmed with unshed tears. He closes them when you gently turn him around.

He hears the sharp inhale when you lay your eyes on the cuts. The next thing he knows, he’s roughly turned back to face you. “Who did this to you?! Was it him? Was it Compeyson?”

Swallowing thickly, Arthur nods. You take his face in your hands, tilt it up so he’s looking at you. Arthur lays his hands around your wrists when he meets your eye.

“He will pay for this,” you say, your tone one he is unfamiliar with but sends a shudder down his spine. “He will never lay a hand on you again so long as I am still breathing. Did he hurt you elsewhere?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, I swear it.”

“Does it hurt much?”

“I’m far too distracted to feel it at the moment.”

Bare chest to bare chest, Arthur pulls you into another kiss. Teeth nip at your bottom lip before his tongue fills your mouth. He sits on the bed, bringing you with him as he lays down. Your sheets are soft and cool to the touch, easing the aches of his sore back.

With a moan of pleasure, you return the kiss. Arthur takes your hand and slides it into his trousers. You start to stroke him again and heat starts to lick through his belly, hotter than the best drink money can buy. The constriction of his trousers makes it difficult for you to stroke him properly. He hastily shoves them down his hips, freeing himself in the process.

Your lips leave his as you make a trail down his chest. You mark red spots upon pale skin as you do, claiming Arthur as yours. Because he is yours. He’s always been yours. He may have denied it but he’s never forgotten it.

You place an open-mouthed kiss on Arthur’s hip bone. With both hands, you peel the trousers off, sliding into the floor as you do.

“Now, what was that you said about being on my knees for another man?” you tease.

Arthur pushes himself onto his elbows, a stray curl falling into his eyes. He’s too focused on you to notice. “I don’t remember,” he says with a small grin. “It was a long time ago. I must have forgotten.”

“Allow me to refresh your memory.”

You drag your tongue along his weeping length and Arthur’s eyes flutter, threatening to close. He forces them open, forces him to watch you take his swollen tip between your lips. The sudden wet heat is overwhelming and Arthur’s head falls back with a moan.

You’ve always had a wicked tongue. When you were lads, your sharp words and quick wit constantly caused trouble. It wasn’t until you both were older that Arthur fully appreciated it.

Now he appreciates it more than ever.

Falling onto his back, Arthur’s eyes flutter closed and he surrenders to the sensation. Feeling your mouth slide down his cock, deliberately slow, his breathing speeds up. By the time you have all of him, he’s audibly panting. You draw back, almost letting him fall completely out of your mouth before taking him again.

You repeat the motion, one hand holding him at the base. Working him in and out of your mouth, you start a steady rhythm, your hand soon following the same path. Arthur is beside himself, gasping and squirming in the bed, unable to do anything but lay there and feel. When he dares to look down at you, that unbelievable heat courses through his veins at the visual of your lips stretched wide around his length.

It's too good. It’s too much. It’s been far too long and Arthur is not going to last. Already he senses the overstimulation, feels how his hips are trying to meet your mouth, but are unable with you pinning him in place.

He says your name, whispers it before reaching down to grip your head.

To his dismay and relief, you stop, letting him slide out completely before dropping harsh kisses to his thighs.

You smirk up at him. “I’ve forgotten how beautiful you look like this.”

Arthur’s forehead is dotted with sweat already and he needs to run his hand through his hair to push the curls away. “Come here,” he pants, forcing himself to sit up.

You stand, your hands busying with the strings holding your trousers closed. Arthur reaches out and makes quick work of them, desperate to see you. To feel you. His mouth waters and when your trousers fall to pool around your ankles, Arthur immediately slides your cock between his lips.

“Fucking hell,” you swear, digging your fingers into his curly locks. “Always so…ambitious.”

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed as he bobs his head up and down, taking more and more of you each time he does. He’s out of practice, sloppy in his over-eagerness yet determined to make it as good for you as it was for him.

You’re hard against his tongue. He can feel the way you twitch, taste the beads of precum before they slide down his throat. He’s a man on a mission, a man possessed by lust. And by you.

Lord help him, he wants to be possessed by you.

When he draws back, he lets you slip out of his mouth, his chin pressed into your stomach as he looks up at you.

Your thumb traces his full bottom lip and he sucks it for a moment before saying in a breathless voice, “Take me.”

With a guttural moan, you bend down to kiss him, sharing his taste while he shares yours. Both of you move at the same time. Arthur crawls backward up the bed while you step out of your trousers and join him, laying your body over his.

He can feel your cock along his. And then you shift, and you’re ever so slightly grinding against his arse and he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to handle more. If he even can handle more.

For everything that’s been familiar, this would be new. You two never got this far before. Though judging by the way you move, how you reach for your nightstand to withdraw a small bottle, Arthur suspects it may not be as new for you as it is for him.

There’s a moment, a twinge of jealousy he cannot contain. He pushes it away. Won’t let it mar this perfect moment. After all, he was the one to walk away. He cannot fault you for finding comfort in someone else.

When you draw back, your eyes are shining with love, and Arthur can’t help but smile, his hand stroking your cheek.

One more kiss is placed on Arthur’s lips before you sit back on your heels. “Spread your legs, love,” you tell him, your voice rough with desire.

Arthur does it instantly, letting you see all of him. You groan, eyes taking him in before meeting his.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life. And my heart.”

The bottle is opened and you pour some of the contents into your hand before placing the glass vial back on the nightstand. Arthur finds his mouth occupied once more with yours as you kiss him. He feels your hand slip between his legs and a warm, wet substance is gently rubbed across his tight pucker.

Arthur freezes for a moment, but your kisses relax him. You make slow, gentle circles with the tip of your finger, spreading the lubricant before pressing ever so slightly against the tight ring of muscle. Arthur’s breathing hitches at the first bit of resistance. However, when he calms again, your finger presses harder until it begins to slide in.

After that, Arthur is unable to stay still. His mouth attacks yours, desire building as you carefully work him loose, first with one finger. His hips move on their own, rising and falling, trying to assist you while also seeking relief. Another finger is added once Arthur is positively grinding against your hand. It’s not enough. He can’t stand to wait any longer.

Drawing back from the kiss he looks up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I need more.”

“I’m working on it. So bloody impatient.”

Arthur kisses you harshly, his teeth briefly tugging on your bottom lip when he pulls away. “Now!”

“Fucking hell I missed you.”

You sit back once more to grab the bottle. Arthur takes it from you, pouring the substance into his hand this time before working it up and down your cock. Your hardness is exhilarating. Just the thought that you’ll be inside him soon is enough to make his own cock weep again.

You grab Arthur’s legs and when he sits back, you push them up against his chest, hands gliding down his thighs. Arthur watches you line yourself up, the head of your cock glistening in the firelight.

Then, you carefully press into him.

Arthur doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until you stroke his hair back from his face. “Just relax, love. Breathe and relax “

Following your instructions, Arthur lets out a shaky breath which turns into a moan as he feels you slide deeper into his body. He has to open his eyes, has to watch your face come closer as you push yourself into his ready and willing body.

He feels the brush of rough hair against his arse and with a loud gasp he realizes you’re now inside him. He’s full of you, finally yours after all these years. What a waste. He could have had you ages ago. Your jaw is clenched and he realizes how much restraint it must be taking for you not to move, to wait until he's accustomed to you.

Arthur is done waiting.

Wrapping his legs around you, he grabs your face and yanks you into a kiss. Your hips draw back slowly before thrusting into his heat and Arthur sees stars.

You take him, first with gentle thrusts but quickly turning into something else. Something more carnal and urgent. He knows you, knows you have fantasied about this as much as he has. Did you think of him? When you were with another or alone with your own hand, was Arthur’s face the one you pictured?

He doesn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Arthur relishes the fullness, groans and calls out your name, forgetting and not caring who may hear. Because there’s no one around to hear. No one to catch you or interrupt. The servants are floors away, blissfully unaware that their master is buggering Arthur Havisham into his mattress.

The secret, forbidden nature of your coupling makes Arthur’s heart race even more. How can love be forbidden? If there is a God, why would He put you in Arthur’s life if the two of you were meant to be apart?

Something inside Arthur snaps and he knows he will never be able to bury these feelings again. He does not want to. He is going to do everything he can to be the man you deserve, the man you know he can be. And at night, when the two of you are alone and away from prying eyes, he’ll have you and you’ll have him.

The thought of it turns him on, makes him want you to take him as hard as you can, make him see stars for hours.

Though, he doesn’t think either of you will last that long.

He can tell when you’re close, remembers the signs well enough though he’s never experienced them from this angle before.

“Arthur,” you pant against his lips. “Arthur, love, I cannot hold back much longer.”

“Come for me,” he begs, blunt nails digging into your sweaty shoulder blades. “I need to feel it this time.”

A moment later, you do. You come inside him, your hand slipping between your bodies to wrap around his hot length. It only takes a jerk or two for Arthur to come as well, coating both your torsos in pearly strips of white. He keeps coming, more than he’s ever had before, vaguely aware it’s been a long time. Longer than he cares to admit.

Your thrusts become sloppy and then slow until you eventually stop.

Arthur’s body is humming and he can’t help the noise of disappointment when you slip out of him and collapse onto your back by his side.

Trying to catch your breath, you lay next to each other, chests heaving. Arthur feels wonderful and uncomfortable at the same time. His wounds are starting to ache and his cooling release is becoming sticky.

You give him a quick kiss. “Wait here, love.”

Arthur smiles at the term of endearment, liking it more and more each time you say it. He watches you cross the room naked to a basin in the corner, where you dip a cloth in water. You bring it back to bed and gently clean him off, first his stomach then between his legs, placing feather-light kisses wherever you can.

Arthur chuckles as you do. “That tickles.”

“Stop being so tasty then.”

You draw back and clean yourself, before tossing the rag aside and climbing back into bed.

Arthur turns to his side so you’re facing each other, his legs twining with yours. He’s more comfortable than he’s ever been in his life. Though sleep threatens to take him, he fights it, wanting to remain awake in your embrace for as long as possible.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” you say, stroking his cheek. “Right here with me. In the morning I’ll mess up the guest room bed and tell the maids you came back when the storm was too dangerous.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.” You kiss him tenderly and he smiles, kissing you back. “As for this Mr. Compeyson, don’t you worry about him.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything. See, unlike him, I don’t have to resort to violence to get what I want, not that I would not love beating the man within an inch of his life. When you’re rich, you can pay people to do that for you. I daresay, if he’s not careful, he may find himself the victim of an unfortunate accident. This city is a dangerous place after all.”

Arthur feels relief. Still smiling, he runs his fingers up and down your arm that’s draped over his waist. “Would be a shame if he met a most unfortunate end.”

“Tragic. Absolutely tragic. There’s only one thing you need to do for me.”

“Name it.”

“Make amends with your sister.” As he narrows his eyes you place a finger on his lips. “Hush, don’t say anything, just listen. First off, this isn’t her fault. Second, patience is a virtue, Mr. Havisham. The best way to get what you want isn’t to stomp and yell. It’s to play along, bide your time.”

Arthur raises his eyebrow, kissing your finger before kissing your palm and then your wrist. “I know that tone,” he says, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours. “You have an idea.”

“To join our family fortunes and became the most powerful families in London? To plot and scheme for a way to keep you by my side for the rest of our lives? How positively absurd.”

Grinning now, Arthur pushes you onto your back, draping his body over yours. “I think we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“I believe we already have, my love.”

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 10

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam helps you out in planning for the launch while Bucky is away.

Word Count: 4.2k (woopsies)

Warnings: SMUT is back, angry unprotected sex, spitting, a tiny hint at scratching and choking, some hurtful words thrown in yada yada yada, kinda intense asjkcackansk

A/N: STRAP THE FUCK IN BECAUSE WE BOUTTA RIDE A DAMN ROLLERCOASTER OMG I’m nervous for this because I found this part very intense while writing it. And I hope it comes across as that to y’all as well because my fingers ached from how hard I was typing this part lmfao. Team Bucky vs Team Reader/Team Sam here we goooo sksksk enjoy

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn't accept Sam's invitation to connect in LinkedIn. Not yet. But it did give you several ideas, like maybe submitting a resignation letter? Get away from Bucky and his toxic ass? He has Mackenzie now, he can easily have her take over your position anyway.

However, you were also torn because you loved your job at Bucky's company. It paved way for you to improve your skills and you experienced a lot of growth too. And well, Bucky's there too but god, you hated him right now. As much as you wanted to wave the white flag, you didn't feel like it was the right thing to do.

You wanted Bucky to learn that not everything he wants, he can easily get. And Mark was right, that you weren't just a trophy employee or whatever. You were so much more than what Bucky probably thinks of you.

And you were going to prove him that.

-

"Hey, Bev. Can you ring up your boss for me? Tell him I want to go over some of the plans I made for the launch before I discuss it with Mackenzie tomorrow." you asked.

Beverly was about to lift the phone up when an unexpected visitor arrived. None other than Sam Wilson himself.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop but did I hear you correctly? You've already made some plans for the launch?" he asked with interest.

You chuckled, "Sort of. Well, it's a rough draft of my ideas. I just thought it would be nice to get a headstart." you admitted.

Sam nodded and was about to say something when Bucky stepped out of his office, his brows furrowing upon seeing you and Sam conversing. Bucky eyed you before glancing over at Sam, patting his shoulder gently as a greeting.

"You checking up on us or what?" Bucky teased with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head, "Not really. Well, kinda. I figured that another presentation would be unnecessary, I mean. I'd love to work on the launch with your team instead of being on the sidelines for approvals." he admitted.

You shrugged, "I think that's a great idea too. Less time to waste, less back and forth." you pitched in.

Bucky frowned a bit, his jaw clenching at how you backed up Sam immediately. "That's fine, but I have a meeting in a few. Might last the entire day. Mackenzie won't be here until tomorrow too." he said.

"She and I can discuss her plans today and maybe I can pitch in some of my ideas too. She can present them tomorrow to you and Kenzie." Sam suggested, gesturing over to you.

Bucky stared at you and Sam alternately, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You could see his internal struggle about leaving you and Sam to discuss about the launch, without his presence.

You lifted up the folder in your hand, "I wanted to go over these plans with you but I didn't know you have a meeting. Sam and I can just refine these today, would save us a lot of time. We don't want to be rushing anything for this project at the last minute." you told him.

Bucky swallowed but nodded anyway, albeit with hesitation, "Yeah. Of course. I'll just catch up on the both of you later."

And with that, Bucky walked away but not without sparing you and Sam one final glance. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you weren't sure, but you saw a flash of worry in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by his usual stern, ice-cold gaze.

You turned to Sam with a smile, "We can discuss in the conference room." you said and led the way.

-

The planning was seamless and you were surprised that you had so much fun exchanging ideas with Sam, to the point of almost forgetting about lunch break. It was quarter past noon when the both of you realized that it was way past lunch time.

"Do you want to grab lunch or order something instead? I honestly hate working lunch, just so you know." Sam said with a laugh.

You groaned, "I hate that too, honestly." you admitted with a chuckle.

Sam nodded, "Great, we can head out for a quick lunch?" he asked.

It didn't even cross your mind to hesitate, so you immediately agreed and even asked if you can take Beverly with you. You'd grown somewhat attached to her in the short time you've known her. Poor kid was being treated like an outcast by the other office girls. She always waited for you to have your lunch break too, especially that Mark has been pretty busy lately.

Sam was kind enough to agree about including Beverly for lunch. The two of you were about to head out of the conference room when Beverly peeked in, worry etched all over her face.

"I need your help." she whined, "I think I messed up Sir James' schedule. Mister Nakajima is on the phone and said that he's going to be an hour late for a meeting today. I forgot about Sir James’ meeting with another company today!" she explained, almost close to tears.

You rushed over to her and held her shoulders, "Hey, calm down. Did you tell Mister Nakajima?" you asked.

"I did and he got mad at me! Today is his only free day and he said that if he doesn't meet up with Sir James, the deal is off." Beverly said, stomping her foot on the ground.

You heaved out a sigh, knowing that the deal was very important. Mister Nakajima owned an auto manufacturing company which produces world-class materials for cars. Bucky had been working on convincing Mister Nakajima to be his permanent supplier for quite a while now. Big fucking deal.

You looked back at Sam, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" you asked with an apologetic expression.

"Take your time." Sam nodded with a smile.

You went over to Beverly's desk and took over the phone call, without knowing that Sam trailed behind you. He watched you carefully as you talked to Mister Nakajima, your demeanor calm yet confident.

"Hi, Mister Nakajima. I'm the company's Marketing Head and I would like to apologize for the mix up. Bucky has been working really hard on improving the quality of our products, he's been in meetings in and out. That being said, would it be alright if I take over this afternoon's meeting instead? Bucky worked on an amazing presentation and I honestly would love to go over it with you and just show you how this partnership would be beneficial for both our companies." you asked.

Fortunately, you were able to appease Mister Nakajima while also saving Beverly's ass for her honest mistake. As soon as the call was done, you reassured Beverly that everything was fine now and that you'll take care of Bucky. By the time you looked back at Sam, he was merely smiling at you.

"You're really good with people."

-

Lunch break passed by quickly, with you, Sam and Beverly engaging in all sorts of conversations. Even Beverly felt comfortable being around his presence. He mainly talked about his experiences at his first job, giving Beverly a couple of tips on how to navigate through the corporate world.

Sam was very kind.

The planning resumed after lunch and by the time Mister Nakajima and his associates arrived, the launch plan was pretty much refined with a lot of details. Sam excused himself to give you time to meet with Mister Nakajima, however, he said he'll be staying until Bucky comes back.

Presenting to Mister Nakajima made you nervous as fuck, especially that he didn't really work closely with you which might affect his decision. Luckily though, you knew Bucky's presentation like the back of your hand due to the fact that he had gone over it with you for a couple of times back when the two of you were still, well, fucking around.

Ah, the good old days.

The meeting with Mister Nakajima went perfectly well because as soon as you were done with the presentation, the old man simply asked for the contract to seal the deal. Although it wasn't you who actually worked on the deck, you had a sense of fulfillment. You were proud of yourself and you couldn't wait to dangle it right in front of Bucky's face.

"Thank you so much, Mister Nakajima. We are excited for this partnership." you said happily as you led him and his associates out of the conference room, just as when Bucky arrived.

He looked confused when Mister Nakajima greeted him happily, shaking his hand and telling him how good his presentation was. Bucky looked over at you, as if asking what the hell was going on. You merely shrugged and headed back inside the conference with Sam.

Bucky followed shortly and for some reason, he looked agitated. He was about to speak up when Sam beat him to it, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"The launch event is gonna be really good." he said confidently before glancing at you.

"You're lucky to have her, Bucky." he said before bidding goodbye, giving you one last look and a wink as well, something that Bucky immediately noticed.

When Sam left, so did the light atmosphere inside the conference room. Bucky turned to you with a scowl, his footsteps rushed and heavy as he approached you.

"What the hell happened with Mister Nakajima?" he asked gruffly.

You smiled as you handed him an envelope, "The partnership is a go. He signed the contract and his team will be keeping in contact with us and our factory soon." you explained proudly.

Bucky took the envelope from your hand and went through the contract before placing it back on the table. "I thought my meeting with him isn't until Friday."

"Beverly mixed up your schedule and before you even reprimand her, give the girl a break. It's her first job and with the amount of meetings you've been having, mix-ups are inevitable. What matters now is that I took over the presentation and Mister Nakajima signed the contract." you explained with nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head, "The end does not justify the means." he said. "Beverly should have been careful. My schedule is not a joke and if I miss another important meeting, that can fuck up the entire company."

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Beverly surely learned from today's mistake. It's done. The deal is on. Everything is peachy. The launch details have been planned out, Sam is happy with it. All I have to do is to secure your and Mackenzie's approval for it and then we can start with the execution. You're welcome." you said all in one breath, handing Bucky a USB containing the details of the launch.

You brushed past Bucky to leave the conference room but you were immediately pulled back with his hand around your arm. He looked down at you with an angry look on his face, almost fuming. You couldn't understand why the fuck he was so aggravated with you today. Sure, he had been testing your patience lately but it was the first time he actually looked like he was going to snap.

Not at the situation, but at you.

"Are you trying to impress Sam? Taking on my responsibilities while he's around?" he asked, eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, unable to believe what Bucky was accusing you of. Pulling your arm back, you took a step back and looked at him with disgust. "You're unbelievable, Bucky." you said.

"Had I not stepped in, we would have lost the deal. You promoted me for a reason, and I believe part of it is my leadership skills. And no, I'm not trying to impress Sam. I'm simply doing my fucking job." you hissed and tried to side step Bucky, only for him to block your way.

"Did he offer you a position in his company? What the fuck was the wink all about?" Bucky accused yet again.

"Oh my god, Bucky! You're blowing things out of proportion. He didn't. We talked about the event. That's it." you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose because Bucky was getting on your very last nerve.

Bucky had been fucking with you too much now and you could feel the last bits of your composure slowly slip away with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Coming for your job was one thing, but accusing you of flirting your way to another company? That was a low blow.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the notification on your phone the other day. Seems to me like Tinder matches don't work for you anymore, you moved on to LinkedIn now to find connections instead?" he asked and that particular statement struck a certain nerve.

You let out a bitter scoff, "Do you even hear yourself, Bucky? At least Sam was being professional and didn't use Tinder to hire a fucking consultant to threaten my damn job!" you slipped, unable to hold back.

The look on Bucky's face was a whirlwind of emotions-- shock, wrath, exhaustion-- and you felt like you were supposed to get scared. Gone were the blue orbs that used to make you feel safe, his eyes only held anger in them. And the thing was, your eyes looked the same as you held Bucky's gaze.

You were so fucking tired of everything, of Bucky.

"How did you-- it doesn't matter." Bucky said, shaking his head. "How much did Sam offer you?" he asked.

Your jaw dropped at the implication of Bucky's statement, "You are a fucking asshole, Bucky. Sam didn't offer me a fucking job. You really don't listen, Bucky. You never listen." you huffed out exasperatedly.

"Okay, maybe he hasn't laid down his offer yet. Perhaps, you let him fuck you too?"

Your vision blacked out upon hearing that and by the time you regained your senses, all you could feel was how your palm stung. You had walked up to Bucky and slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make the corner of his bottom lip bleed. Your entire body was trembling from rage as you stood in front of Bucky.

He tilted his head as he wiped the blood off from his lip, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. And then his hand gripped your neck, tugging you close for a bruising kiss. You grunted against his mouth and pushed him away, slapping him again. Before Bucky could even recover, your fingers wrapped around his tie pulling him down to you for another kiss.

Walls crumbled down, tension was broken and needs were being fulfilled. The rush of emotions blurred the line between fury and lust with the latter obviously winning. All you could think about was the throb that you suddenly felt within your core begging for relief.

Relief that was denied from you for the past few weeks of playing cat and mouse with Bucky.

And with the way Bucky was kissing you, you knew he felt the same. It had been too long and both your minds were too hazy to even care that it was only five in the afternoon and that there were employees working just outside the conference room.

Was the fear of getting caught going to stop you? No, not now. Because you needed release and you were sure as hell going to get it. This wasn't like the other times you and Bucky fucked. You didn't care about Bucky at the moment, how he felt or what was going on in his mind. You just needed to release all your pent up emotions and you were going to use Bucky to get what you need.

Bucky pushed you against the table, your tailbone hitting the edge with such force that made you groan from pain.

"Yeah, why don't you make some noise so everyone can see how fucking needy you are for me?" Bucky growled, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his other hand bunched your skirt up to your waist.

You let out a chuckle, "I'm not the one going to make noise here." you warned before reaching down to palm his erection.

Bucky hissed and bit his lip hard to prevent himself from eliciting a moan. His jaw ticked as he squeezed your face tighter, forcing you to open your mouth as his eyes scanned your features.

"Watch your fucking mouth, baby. I still own you, you're fucking mine." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes lidded as he looked down at you like a predator.

You kept your mouth closed but as soon as Bucky's fingers found your damp panties, you weren't able to stop your whimper. Bucky took the opportunity and spit in your mouth before crashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, the way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear.

He kissed you like he owned you.

"I'm not yours, Bucky." you said as your hands quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

The groan that reverberated from Bucky's chest as you stroked him made you smirk. His hand on your face slid down to your neck, holding you tightly as he pushed aside your underwear and then he slid into you with no prior warning. The lack of foreplay made it hurt when he bottomed out, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure when Bucky started moving his hips against yours.

No words were further exchanged from then on. Only soft whimpers and hushed grunts could be heard. However, it was clear that even up until now, there was competition. You didn't want to make noise, didn't want to lose to Bucky. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how fucking good he was making you feel right now, with how each drag of his cock was making your toes curl inside your heels.

Your hands held onto his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the table, the fabric of his suit bunching up against your fingers. Bucky kept his gaze on you and not once did you falter, not even when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, almost punching the air out of your lungs.

Bucky held the back of your thighs and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the table and bending forward so he could angle his cock in a way that you would feel it deep within you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, one of your hands scratching at his jaw as he continued to pound your sopping cunt.

"God, fucking missed this pussy. Can feel you clamping down on my cock, you gonna cum soon?" he asked, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the wanton moan that Bucky pounded out of you. Not wanting to be the only one to make noise, you clenched around him hard. Bucky let out a growl at how your walls squeezed his cock, his balls tightening as his own orgasm approached.

"Cum for me, Bucky." you whimpered, tipping your head up to lick at Bucky's mouth as your legs tightened around his waist to pull him deeper into you.

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose, the veins on his neck popping out as he fucked your harder on the table. He kept his hand wrapped around your neck while the other held onto your waist so tight, you could feel his fingers digging deep into your skin. Even with your clothes on, you were sure that you'll be getting bruises from how hard his grip on you was.

"Go on, Bucky. Want your cum inside, want to feel you fill me up again." you moaned against his parted lips, darting your tongue out to taste his mouth.

The needy tone of your voice sent Bucky to the edge first. He uttered a string of curses under his breath as ropes of his cum painted your walls with their warmth with triggered your orgasm. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes. Bucky kissed you and swallowed your moans as his thrusts slowed down.

It took a while for the both of you to recover from the intense fucking. Bucky nuzzled your neck with his nose, his heavy breaths warming up your sweaty skin. There was a short moment of peace that followed, the tension gone and was replaced by a heavy feeling.

You swallowed hard and slowly regained your senses. The release cleared your mind and the memories of the heated exchange from earlier were quick to come back. Bucky's accusations echoed in your ear and they were so clear it almost felt like he was saying them to you again.

Suddenly, you doubted Bucky's intentions when he promoted you. Was he really impressed of your skills at work or was it because you let him fuck you?

"Get off of me." you said, pushing at Bucky's chest until he straightened up.

Ignoring the emptiness you felt when his cock slipped out of you, you hopped down from the table and started fixing yourself. In the many times you had slept with Bucky, it was the first time that you felt disgusted with yourself.

You turned your back to Bucky as you adjusted your underwear, pulling down your skirt and pressing your palms against the fabric to iron out the creases. Your breath was heavy as you processed what had just happened. And just like that, your reserve broke and the strong facade you had built crumbled down into pieces, leaving you vulnerable.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Bucky suddenly asked when he heard your sniffing, the darkness in his features gone.

His eyes were back to blue and there was nothing but genuine concern when he saw the tears in your eyes. Bucky tried to approach you but you quickly backed away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself as protection.

"Did you hurt me?" you scoffed. "In more ways than one, Bucky." you quickly added, wiping away your tears hastily with the back of your hand.

You were about to walk out of the conference but decided that it was probably time for you to actually speak up about everything. How you felt for him and how much you hated him for coming at you like that.

"I was going to admit that I like you. I thought about it and figured that I was too proud and a bit selfish for not considering your feelings when I rejected you." you explained.

Bucky blinked in confusion, "What? When?"

You shrugged, "The day you brought in Mackenzie. And I was more hurt than mad that you did that. Because you knew how much this job means to me and you had used it against me. You basically took advantage of my weakness, for what? To get me to cave in? Even when I clearly told you how fucking scared I was of the consequences of whatever kind of relationship we have?" you huffed out.

You didn't allow Bucky to speak, not yet. Not until you were done making him understand why you had been so hell-bent on keeping things professional.

"I wasn't born into a rich family like you, Bucky. I had to work my way up to where I am. Unlike you, I have a family to support and if I lose this job, it's not only me who would suffer. And it won't be easy for me to find another one, not after the reputation I'd have once we get busted." you further explained.

"I told you about it so many times and I wish you listened. Because maybe we could've figured shit out. Or I don't know, maybe the fucking was too good and you only wanted me for that." you shrugged.

Bucky quickly shook his head, "No. God no, you're more than that."

You chuckled again, a fresh wave of tears flooding the corners of your eyes. "It most definitely felt like it when you accused me of fucking Sam."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please? I didn't mean to, I was too--"

"No, Bucky. You didn't listen to me when I told you how I felt about us. Now you're going to know how it feels to not to get what you want." you sternly said before walking over to the door.

You turned back at Bucky and refused to let his expression get to you. He looked devastated, his eyes glassy from the tears he had been holding back, his lips parted as he finally realized what he had done.

"Expect my resignation letter by tomorrow. As soon as we're done with the launch, I'm out."

-

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi​ @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[akaashioppa]

Forever Will Never Be The Same

pairings: oikawa x reader

summary: The reader finally confronts her husband Oikawa after cheating allegations in the male locker room. angst!!!

warnings: curse words, mentions of the reader having a son with Oikawa, confronting of cheating. 

w/c: 1736

A/N: first time writing for Oikawa :)

Haikyuu Masterlist  Masterlist

“Everyone get out now!”

Your voice echoed off the metal lockers of the locker room. Eyes widened as you made your way into the changing room, not because of the fact that a girl was entering the male’s locker room. It was the fact that Oikawa (Y/N) was coming to kick her husband’s ass. Just as every man passed you to flee, their musky scent filled your nose making you cringe.

After the final whistle of the game, people were scavenging to take pictures with Oikawa Toru except you. Each morning that you woke your husband up he would give you one of those cheeky grins that he was giving the fans right now, the stupid grin was fake. Laughter, jokes, and cries filled your ears, for what reason? The Great King made his grand entrance back to the court, winning both sets with the help of Iwaizumi. The Great King himself showered his fans with love and pictures while you stood from afar, anger flowing through your veins. Knowing the Poker Face King for ten years and having been married to him for two, it was easy to mimic the grin. As girls would pass by screaming about the pictures they took with him you would shoot them that famous grin. 

You timed each moment perfectly, celebrating the win, pictures with fans, interviews with the sports commentators, more fan interaction and now he hits the locker room for a shower. Luckily for you, he was beginning to take his sweaty jersey off, beads of sweat from the previous game were still prominent.

“What are you doing here?” The look on his face was one of a kind, it was a mixture of panic and anger. Nothing to be afraid of, it’s not like he didn’t give you the same look when you caught him at the bar with another woman. Or the time you were driving down the road with his phone constantly going off, every other minute he’d get notifications, this would go on for hours.

The yelling of the men from the locker room made you come back to reality. Have they not seen a woman before or was it because you were standing there looking at their dick prints? A white tint cast over their knuckles from how hard they were holding their towels around their waist. ‘What a sight to see

“You can either tell me the truth or you can tell me the truth there’s no in-between.” You barked at Oikawa, men were still scattering out of the locker room. You barely gave them time to leave before you bombarded your husband with your question. 

The  panic on his face was quite entertaining, he moved in front of you so you couldn’t see his half-naked teammates running out of the locker room.“What are you talking about!?”

“When were you going to tell me that you went to a nightclub with Iwaizumi!? He told me everything so I’m giving you the chance to come clean about it!”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to be mad.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You got straight to the point, there was no need for you to sit here and procrastinate any longer. This has been on your mind ever since you got those three attachments from Iwaizumi.

“No” He scoffed, “Why would I sleep with her? I have too much respect for you to sleep with her.”

“Oh really, the way you were holding her waist makes me think differently. The way you kissed her neck makes me want to snap yours!” You held up a photo on your phone with him and another girl at the nightclub. His head was in her neck, you could see that he was kissing on it, his arms were wrapped around her waist but his hands were dangerously low.“Respect? Do you even know the definition of respect because if you did you wouldn’t have me out here looking stupid!”

He sat down on the bench of the locker room, his arms were tightly around his chest. Oikawa was already over this conversation, this wasn’t the first time you blew up in the face about this. Nor the second, he respected you in a weird way. He never laid hands on you, or even yelled at you but he couldn’t keep his hands off other women. 

“How do I make you look stupid!? I give you everything you want!”

“Everything but love.” You yelled desperately, the thing about arguing with him about these situations was that he’d always claim that he knew what you wanted. He’d always try to bring light on the situation when he clearly fucked up. He was a great husband, you guys had been dating since high school. Since he got the fame and money things turned upside down, he became a legit monster. 

“I show love to you every day, I make love to you every week!” His voice rose an octave, his hand was flying all over the place when he spoke. 

You were appalled, sickened, offended, that he could say something like that. It hurts to know that he thinks this way, it almost makes you feel worthless. Does he really consider having sex as love? “That’s not loving Toru, that's lust.”

He sighed, his hands were on his knees, he got up to finish packing up his things. “Well, I’m over it. I don’t want you here anymore. Leave”

“How can you give up so easily on us.” You forced his hands away from his bag, he looked at you with a confused face. You poked him hard in his chest slowly provoking him, “I forgave you so many times after you treated me like trash. All the times you cheated and came home with women’s numbers falling out of your pockets. Many sleepless nights just to make sure that your knee would stop bothering you. I wake up every morning to make you your special breakfast so you can be game ready and yet I haven’t given up on you.”

“I’m just tired of arguing with you. All you do is complain about my lifestyle. If you can’t keep up then we shouldn’t be together. How can I keep consoling you after you get all jealous about me hanging out with fans or me taking pictures with my fans? It’s just toxic (Y/N).” He spat back, he didn’t seem angered. It was more of an annoyed look. 

“Because you only hang out with female fans, it’s fine and all but when they’re posting sexual pictures with you, it’s a different story. I scroll down my feed to see you with more women than see pictures of us together. It’s like I don’t exist”

“Whatever (Y/N) I need to get ready for the after-party.”

“What about us? How are we going to fix this?”

“There is no us!” He screamed, his voice echoed off the lockers. He placed his hands on his hips trying to compose himself. “It’s only you and Torio. And me, Torio and volleyball! There is no us, not anymore and that’s it!”

You took a step back, each word was like a dagger in your heart. He would often bring your son into the matter. Ever since your son was born you’ve always felt like you and Oikawa had grown apart. It was like you were forcing yourself to stay for Torio’s sake. There would be days where things were good, on those days you and Oikawa wouldn’t argue. However, when days like this occur he’d make you hurt, you’d always end up questioning your ability of loving. Deep down you felt like you guys were drifting apart but you didn’t want to admit it. It was too painful, Oikawa would have been left if it weren’t for Torio. He wanted his fans and the sports media to look at him as a family man.

“Why is it so hard to ask someone to love me!?” Your breaking point had finally come, you held your hands over your mouth to stop the loud sobs. It was hard to know that your husband and high school sweetheart didn’t want you. You gave up everything to support him with his dreams, family, friends, work, school, and even your fucking sanity and yet she still treats you this way. 

He stood there watching you beat yourself down, he didn’t do anything but place a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged it off, the last thing you wanted was for him to touch you. “Listen I loved you back in high school but now high school is over. You’re still basing this love off of that and I’m not here for it. All these insecurities you have are a bit annoying in my defense. Maybe this relationship would work if you grew the fuck up.”

“You can’t give up on us now. We need each other. Torio needs his dad. ” Lie, you needed him. Yes, Torio needed his dad but you needed your husband. It was crazy to think that you would go back to him but it was just your toxic ways. You never loved anyone but him, he was all that you had. Your life that you lived was based upon him. 

“Look, we can talk about this later if you want, but right now I have thousands of fans waiting for me to show my face. You can either suck it up and go out there with me or you can hit the back doors and go home.”

“Toru…”

“What do you want?” He groaned, he turned back around with an annoyed face. He was fed up with you and even the situation. You knew he wanted you gone, he was waiting for the minute you’d leave so he could go and party. 

Obviously an answer, he was too consumed with himself to even realize that. It was the reason why you came in here yelling at his teammates to leave, you wanted to ask him a question in private. The thought of getting your feelings hurt in front of everyone was not ideal.

“I just asked a simple question. Did you sleep with her?”

You looked up at him for the first him, your vision was blurry but you could see him well enough to see that stupid smirk.“What do you think?”

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Nanami Kento (Highlighted Posts)

Updated 12/24/21

Asks:

"Ma'am, Nanami Kento just fucking infatuated with chubby/fat reader, pls 🤲🏼" x

"Big Dick Men silent af..........Kento Nanami is just the perfect candidate for this 👀" x

"okay "nanami was probably such a tsundere as a teen" LIKE YES HE WAS" x

"lol nanami reverse parking while his hands are behind your seat even when there's a perfectly fine rear view camera in his car" x

"i think nanami is the kind of person who would make you a playlist but wouldn't share it with you but rather he would play it while the two of you are in the car and would ask you if you like the songs or not." x

"Not the NSFW you're looking for but here's one bc I just spent 9 hours working on a work project on a Sunday 🥲🥲🥲🥲" x

"Gonna say Nanami likes sleepy sleepy sex after a long day of work" x

"babes…. i’m gonna need u to elaborate on chubbychaser! voyeur!nanami…. like PLEASEEEE" x

"what would happen if gojo DRAGGED nanami to a stripclub?" x

"i LOVE ur nanami x chubby reader contenttt ahhh i don't know if you take requests but por favor grace us with some more of your nanami x chubby reader content 🥺🥺" x

"you dear woman of taste, how you think drunk!nanami is?" x

"Nanami would jerk off thinking about his crush to then have a mental breakdown on how ashamed he feels doing that and proceeds to do it again the next day" x

"ok you cannot tell me Nanami isn't a possessive mf" x

"Asshole" x

"Nanami wanting chubby reader to sit on his face" x

"Pussy Drunk Nanami!!!" x

"My take is that Nanami prefers missionary vanilla sex" x

"Nothing wrong w hcs that hes rough ofc but just want to see more soft nanami." x

"Head empty just Nanami interrupting your talk by sealing your lips with his." x

"nanami with an insatiable reader would just be a mess" x

"Lesse lesse let’s go with Nanami’s home life and upbringing if that tickles your fancy" x

"Thoughts about yandere nanami and chubby reader? 🥰🥰" x

"hi so you know the nanami headcanons with him being a momma boy and his upbringing, well what would happen if you know…him bringing chubby reader to meet them and his family loves her. all fluff up here" x

"Can we talk about how Nanami would be obsessed with getting married with you" x

"do you think nanami would be the kind of husband that's like "wait i think i left something" before going to work and proceeds to crash his lips on his wife's" x

"if ur chubby requests are still open, could i ask for a chubby reader x nanami drabble where reader gets a little insecure because of namami’s obsession with watching her face while she cums, so nanami counters by making her cum until she’s too fucked out to care??" x

"A Meal Fit for a King" x

"Pretty please could you make a fic about AU where Nanami simps for reader, he reads fanfiction and jerks off to smut, he just wishes reader was real" x

"currently having the feminine urge for nanami to fold me into a mating press and stuffing me w his babies" x

Drabbles:

"Nanami isn’t a possessive person per say; he just likes doing things that let people know you’re together." x

"Thinking about Nanami having a rough day and coming home" x

"Nanami Kento isn't one for grand gestures to declare a person's love." x

"Tsundere Teen Nanami x Chubby Reader" x

"Ok but im imagining Nanami (who gets joy from taking care of his partner and letting them use his money however they pls) and me (somone who feels immense guilt when anyone spends even $10 on me)" x

"Nanami is surprisingly incredible at giving massages" x

"Thoughts on Nanami wanting to take care of his s/o" x

"Oh to be the cute chubby camgirl that Nanami watches every week 💕" x

"blowjob" x

Fics:

"a wonderful way to decompress" x

"let me take care of you" x

[jaehyunnie77]

hey babess i love your writing! can i request a jaehyun x ceo! y/n fic? (fluff + smut) something along the lines of jaehyun being the only one who can turn boss babe y/n soft & submissive?

Pairing: assistant!jaehyun x female!ceo

Genre: smut and tiny fluff

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, sexual tension, office sex, fingering, oral (male recieving), dom jaehyun, sub reader, protected sex

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: hi love! thank you so much for the request. it makes me so happy to hear you love my writing <3. I had fun writing this one. I'm so sorry this took forever, but I do hope you like it. Also, Lemonade and Sticker Jaehyun did something to me so I got carried away a bit lol. enjoy

—

Knock knock.

"Come in!" you yell keeping your eyes on the computer screen. You really don't understand why people use Urgent as the subject line when it wasn't really urgent at all. The door to your office opens and the woody cologne of your assistant hits your nose. It takes everything in you to continue reading the email.

"Miss Y/LN, you have a five o'clock meeting today with design department." Jeong Jaehyun looks at his tablet in his hand to make sure there wasn't anything else he was missing. Last time you missed an important conference call all because he wasn't paying close attention to your schedule.

"Fuck." you say under your breath. You completely forgot about the meeting and honestly, didn't want to go. You stop reading and rub your temples. You look up just in time at your assistant and you both lock eyes. There is no denying there is heavy sexual tension between you both. Everyone in the office, hell, everyone in the entire building can sense the chemistry between you and your assistant.

You won't admit it to anyone, but the way he talks to you in his soft voice, makes your ovaries go in overdrive. The way his hand would slightly touch yours when handing you papers, gave you goosebumps. From your desk you have a perfect view of him, you can't help but look at him and daydream. When you two would talk about something outside of work, you can't help but smile and laugh with him. You wouldn't say you were whip for him, he was just a good eye candy to have around during stressful times.

Okay, you may have thought about him and his fingers a couple of times whenever you masturbated, but no one needed to know that.

However, you would never act on those fantasies because you are the CEO of a multimillion-fashion company. You can't afford to be distracted.

"Cancel and move it to another date and time next week. I have all of these paperwork I need to sort through." you say.

Jaehyun nods his head as his hand starts tapping away on his tablet. "Done. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No that is all. You may leave for the day."

Jaehyun gives you another nod and walks out of your office. You stare at his back and thirst over his figure. You wish you could run your hands all over his broad shoulders, hug around his waist, and your hands running through his gel back hair.

Jeong Jaehyun has been your assistant for the last four months and surprisingly, he is the only one who stayed the longest. All of your other assistants were either fired or quit because of how demanding you are. You were prepared to find another assistant when Jaehyun quit, but he could handle your sharp tongue and ranging mood swings.

In the end, it works out for you because you get to see his muscles flex and his dimples almost every day of the week. You get to boss him around whenever you like just to see if he would break one day. Strangely enough, he is the only one who makes you feel this way, both horny and soft for him.

If you could, you would fuck him on your desk and have your way with him. You would edge and overstimulate him over and over again, if only your reputation wasn't on the line. Your pussy clench around nothing with just the thought of Jaehyun under you. Before your imagination could run any more wilder, you get back to work.

The following day, you were overwhelmed with the stacks of paper work that sat on your desk. Jaehyun has been helping you sort through most of it the entire day and by the time you look at your clock, it was well past eleven o'clock. You sigh as you glance over at Jaehyun who looks just as tired as you.

"Jaehyun that should be it for today. We can sort through the rest on Monday." you collect the papers in front of you and put them in your file cabinet. "You should go home to your girlfriend or whoever is waiting for you at home." you mentally slap yourself for even saying that aloud.

Jaehyun sees your flustered state and grins as he puts the stack of papers on one side of his desk. "It's fine and for your information, I don't have anyone waiting for me."

You try your hardest to breathe and tighten your cross legs. It was his voice and the way he said it that sent shivers down your spine. His sexy sulky voice that you've heard once and made your pussy clench. Oh how you want to fulfill your fantasies right now.

"Miss Y/LN?"

"Yes Jaehyun?"

You didn't notice Jaehyun getting up from his chair and walking towards you.

"Y/N."

You finally look up surprise to see him leaning against your desk right beside you. He has a cocky smile and even from this angle, he looks like a hot Thor, but hotter.

You gulp as you regain your composure, "What is it Jaehyun?"

Jaehyun leans down, his face comes closer to yours, and you don't dare back away. When his face was inches from yours, you whisper, "This is unprofessional."

He gazes into your eyes, still smirking, "Was it unprofessional all the times we've been eye fucking from across the room?"

You sigh as you gave in and close the gap connecting your lips. It was cold a minute ago, but now it was hot. Hot and sexy. He grabs your neck to keep you in place as you get up from your chair and your hands finding their way to his neck. Both of your hands wander all over each other, until you start to unbutton his white shirt and he unzips your dress.

The height difference is making you weak, but you want to show him you're the boss and dominate him. Jaehyun notices what you're doing and you feel him smile in your heated make out session.

"Still trying to be the boss Y/N?"

"I am the boss Jaehyun." You finally get rid of his shirt and damn, does this man work out. You stop to admire his hardened abs, while Jaehyun finally takes off your dress, admiring you in just your bra and panties. You both take each other in.

To be clear, this has never happened before to you. You were always the one to set the pace, to show your partners for the night you were in charge, but this was different. Jaehyun was different. He was captivating and you wanted him to destroy you now that you've seen what it's like to be kissed and touched by him.

He leaves kisses on your jaw, your neck, to your chest and as he senses the sudden change in attitude, he growls. He captures your lips once more as he picks you up to sit you on your desk. He pushes everything on top of your desk away onto the floor and lays you down. He continues his kiss attack by leaving purple bruises all over your chest, boobs, and stomach. When he finally reaches where you need him the most, he teases you over your panties.

"Jaehyun." you whine.

"Yes baby." Even the nickname is driving you crazy.

"Stop teasing."

"If you say so." Jaehyun pushes your panties to the side and slides a finger between your folds.

"You're dripping wet. All for me?"

Without an answer or a warning, he pushes in a finger, then a second. The stretch makes your back arch as he pumps his digits into you. He curls his fingers and set a rapid pace as your walls pulsate around his fingers making you see the stars. Before you could reach your orgasm, he stops and takes them out.

"Jaehyun!"

"No. Be a good girl and don't come until I tell you to."

"I would do no such -"

He reinserts his fingers pumping into you again and when you clench, he stops again. He loves to see your expression when you were right on the edge and can see the frustration take over.

"J-"

"I said, be a good girl and come when I tell you to. If not, you won't come and we'll do this all night if we have to."

Fuck was he hot.

You whimper as you slowly nod to his command.

"Good girl. Now get on your knees."

You sit back up and get down on your knees anticipating for what's to come. Just as you were about to unzip his pants, he stops you with his hand on your wrist. "Don't. Hand behind your back." Once again, you did as you were told as you watch Jaehyun slowly unzip his pants and bring down his boxers. His long hard cock standing proud almost hitting your face. Precum visible as it leaks from his tip. You unconsciously lick your lips wanting nothing more than to have him in your mouth.

"Suck."

With your hands still behind your back, you inch forward and put him in your mouth. Jaehyun groans at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. You bob and twist your head as you slurp on his dick. Saliva mix with his precum are coming out of the corner of your mouth. You pull off him to catch your breath but Jaehyun wasn't having it. He grabs the back of your head, pushes his cock into your mouth, and fucks your mouth. You feel him hit the back of your throat and gag around him.

Jaehyun hisses when you moan and gag around him, "You're fucking sexy."

When he feels himself almost coming, he pulls you off, helps you up from the ground, and bend you over the desk. "Spread your legs."

You do as you he says and spread your legs best as you can. He grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on, pumping himself a few times before finally entering you. You let out a loud moan when his girth stretches you out perfectly. You feel so full.

Jaehyun doesn't wait for you to get use to him as he starts to pound into you. The way his hips thrusts into you has you moving up on your desk. You try to grab onto anything, but Jaehyun kept your hands behind your back still. Your head laid to the side and Jaehyun has the perfect view of your fucked out face.

He leans down next to your ears, "Do you think you could boss me around as a lost boy?" he thrusts harder.

"J-Jaehyun, ahh!"

"Do you think you could make me your bitch boy and tell everyone to reschedule your meetings every day?"

"Fuck!"

"Ah, do you think you could tease me every day when you wear those short dresses and skirts, bend over in front of me, and don't expect me to get hard?"

"Fuck fuck fuck!"

"What would everyone say when the CEO is getting fucked by her assistant?"

"Th-they w-won't b-believe y-you."

He growls in your ear, "Even when I'm balls deep in you, you still want to be the boss."

He pounds into your harder and faster making you see the stars, "Please Jaehyun."

"Who's the boss Y/N?" Jaehyun pulls your hair bringing you up to his chest. The new position as him hitting in deeper as you continue seeing the stars as tears fall out of your eyes.

"Jaehyun! You are! Oh my fucking God! Please don't stop, don't stop."

"You like that? You like getting your hair pulled?"

"Fuck yes! Only for you. Please let me come."

He was getting close too, "Come on my dick baby." You didn't need to be told twice as you let go and cum on his cock and soon enough he also reach his climax.

His hold on your hair loosens up as you fall forward on your desk with him falling on top of you, both of you worn out. He kisses your glistening shoulders as you feel him go soft inside of you. He pulls out throwing the condom away and helps you get dress.

Standing there with clothes back on and hair slightly messy, you suddenly feel shy. Jaehyun caresses your cheek as you shyly look up at him, a warm smile on his face with those beautiful dimples showing.

"Hi." he whispers.

"Hi." you feel yourself get butterflies in your stomach.

"I know this is reverse, but do you want to get dinner tomorrow?"

You study his face for any remorse or seriousness, but all you found is adoring eyes staring back at you.

"I'd love that, but," you pause. Jaehyun's expression falls.

"But?"

"But I'm still your boss and," you wrap your arms around his neck while his found your waist, "you're fired."

You smile up at him, feeling the rumble of his laughter. "That is fine by me as long as I have you by my side." He kisses your lips and you kiss back.

"About time honestly." you joke as you detached yourself to get your purse.

Jaehyun smiles at you, "Well if you weren't so busy bossing me around and playing this cat and mouse game -"

You lightly smack his chest laughing and you both walk out of your office interlocking your hands.

[lebenspurpur]

{slashers x fem reader who has a blood kink? sorry if this is against ur boundaries u don’t have to if ur uncomfy!!!} submitted by anon but I accidentally deleted the original ask because I am an idiot.

Also darling, you're fine, all my boundaries got destroyed years ago.

Warnings: blood (duh), knives, a lot of cutting, mentions of self-harm and necrophilia.

Also a female reader this time.

Michael Myers

Oh Michael loves it.

Blood always gets this man going, I think we've established that.

Wait a second.

You want to cut him? *slowly backs off*

Yeah, he doesn't necessarily trust you with a knife.

Michael doesn't mind the pain, his pain endurance is way too high for that. It's just that cutting him would be a dominant action. And Michael really doesn't want to give you dominance.

He'll let himself get cut if he can cut you.

Michael is all for period sex if that's your thing. Be careful though, he is not going to be soft just because you're sensitive.

Michael just thrives off of the fact that, not only are you shedding blood, you're very sensitive and you're in pain as well.

A pure sadist, this man.

Vincent Sinclair

Blood? Doesn't that involve you getting hurt?

Vincent is skeptical.

He really, really doesn't want you to get hurt.

It would turn you on?

Hm.

Let's test it first.

Vincent will be very slow and careful, stopping as soon as he thinks something's wrong.

You have to reassure him to get going quite a lot.

After he realizes what effect blood has on your body, he overthinks it again and then consents.

He's going to create a new and very special safe word for this, just in case he ever really hurts you.

He himself doesn't really mind getting cut, as long as it makes you happy. This man would do anything for your happiness.

To be quite honest, Vincent loves the marks you leave on him. He looks at them in the mirror the next morning, a bashful grin painting his handsome features. I am so soft for Vincent please.

Period sex? Are you sure you're not in pain during that?

Vincent isn't grossed out by body fluids, but he won't go down on you during your time of the month.

His problem with period sex is that you're already hurting and he doesn't want to cause further harm.

He's perfectly fine with just fingering you and receiving blowjob though he can do without those if you don't want to until you're off your period again.

Vincent would literally do anything for you and I'm not kidding.

Bo Sinclair

"Woah there sugar... didn't think you'd be into that."

He's a bit surprised in the beginning.

Period sex is a no for him, don't even bring it up. He'll probably vomit already at the word period.

Him cutting you is totally fine and he likes that if you're fine with it.

However him getting cut is not going to happen.

To make it up to you, he can fuck you after he just killed a victim.

He'll thrust into you, fresh dark-red splashes of blood painted on his face.

"Do you like that? Knowing that I fucking killed a guy and then immediately came in here to fuck the shit outta you? I bet'cha do sugar."

Lester Sinclair

B-..blood?

Lester is pretty concerned until you explain it a bit better.

After that he's still concerned.

Hmm, how about animal blood?

Lester just doesn't want to be in pain and he doesn't want to put you in pain.

If you're fine with non-human blood then he's very relieved, having been scared that you'll leave him.

Please reassure your feelings for him or he's going to worry for months now.

Baby Firefly

She's a bit astonished in the beginning. She just didn't expect that from you, out of all people.

But, being a part of the Firefly family, she's totally down for it!

She'll gladly pepper you in little cuts and then suck at them. Baby loves using her tongue on you anyway so it's a win-win situation.

She's also very open for period sex. After all, she's done worse than eat someone out during their time of the month.

Baby is the best at aftercare. She'll make you a hot bubble bath, clean the cuts and she got sparkly pink band-aids for the both of you!

Otis Driftwood

Did you just say blood? *drags you to his torture room*

Otis... is so down for this.

Can he.. like carve his name into your body?

Oh and can he take a picture of you?

Can he take a picture of you next to a corpse?

You just wanted to see him bloody, god damnit.

Period sex is not something he'd insist on doing but he'll never say no to fucking you.

Billy Loomis

You want to do what?

Billy has never heard of a blood kink before. It reminds him of his love for the red substance though.

The only difference is that he doesn't use real human blood.

It takes a lot of coaxing but after a while he might be okay with cutting you a little bit..

After seeing how much you enjoy it, he might let you cut him too.. but not too deep!

Billy would also really enjoy fucking you after coming home from a kill. He'd be drenched in blood, the red fluid clinging to his chest and slowly smearing onto your back.

He smirks as he spreads the red fluid on your perky nipples, watching you throw your head back and moan shamelessly.

Stu Macher

Sure, why not?

Stu is an incredibly adventurous person, even when it comes to sex.

You trust him and he trusts you so where's the problem?

I don't think Stu would actively enjoy a blood kink but he's not going to say no since you asked him so nicely.

The pure facts that you're getting so aroused from a simple liquid is enough to make him turn feral anyway.

Who needs blood when you can have Y/N begging on her pretty, little knees for your cock?

Brahms Heelshire

"No."

"But-"

"I said no."

Yeah no, blood scares him.

It will need a lot of coaxing to even get him to try it.

I don't think he'd like it very much.

But Brahms will gladly kill the grocery-boy for you if you'd like to see him drenched in someone's blood.

Thomas Hewitt

Blood? Sweetheart, what if you get hurt?

He'll gently cradle your face in his big palms, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

Upon finding it, he'll nod and ask you to explain it to him again.

He'll try it for you. If you're going out of your way to ask this of him, he has to try it in his opinion.

He doesn't like the act of cutting to get either your or his blood and he'd rather have the blood to be his.

Tommy is a big, strong man. He can take a few small cuts.

But you're his tiny, sweet Y/N, he can't cut you?!

So yeah, to get him to cut you will be quite a quest.

As soon as he sees your reaction to blood, he blushes, desire clouding in his brown eyes.

Maybe this is a good idea after all.

He'd still have you or him covered in animal blood, rather than human blood.

Thomas doesn't care if you're on your period or not, but he'll immediately stop when you're in pain.

Just relax Y/N, he'll go get a towel and then he'll take care of his "little problem".

Josef

Blood? But why?

Okay, for you, he might try.

He enjoys it more than he originally thought.

Blood has an important meaning to him too and to see it spread all over your pretty body.. just does things to him.

Period sex is not his thing.

I don't even think he knows how periods work.

Amanda Young |TW SELF HARM|

Amanda has heard about blood kinks before and you can not change my mind.

She's down to try it if you both feel comfortable.

However, Amanda has had struggles with self-harm in her past and would therefore prefer you getting cut.

She just doesn't like willingly adding new scars to her collection.

There's something so arousing about you licking her bloody fingers clean, she can't help but press her thighs together.

Period sex?

She isn't the biggest fan of that idea but fingering you is not a problem to her.

She's kind of confused since her cramps are too painful to get aroused during her period.

Her aftercare is also very good. Amanda always has bandages and band-aids stacked away somewhere and she knows how to deal with the wounds she's left

[nsheetee]

Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You  collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.