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spokenforyou · 2 months ago

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sylus x fem reader

TAKE CARE

synopsis: sylus comes home after a run in, wounded. and you decide to take care of him, in more ways than one.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgar language, mentions of wounds and blood, mentions of bruises, praise kink, spanking, m oral receiving .

wc- 2.4k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

9:26 pm

Sylus is late.

You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching a movie. A random romance movie filling the empty house with sound as you wait for Sylus to get back home from work.

You begin to worry, he called you around an hour ago, saying he’d be on his way.

Because of course, he had to hear your sweet voice. But he’s late.

You fight the urge to call him or spam his phone, even though you know he doesn’t care, he prefers it.

You sigh as you repeatedly check the time 9:40 comes around and you decide to send him a text.

You: Baby, are you alright? I didn’t wanna bother you, but I’m getting worried.

You set down your phone and lock it before returning your attention to the movie. As you see the couple on screen all you can think of is Sylus.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year and a half, the man you are in love with wholeheartedly. Reaching down you begin to twiddle with the collarbone necklace he bought you. Your phone dings and you nearly jump in your seat.

It’s Sylus.

Sy: I got caught up kitten. Late approach, I’m in the car right now. I’m sorry, give me 5 minutes or so, see you then.

You sigh of relief but can’t stop to wonder what caught him so late.

Not even three minutes pass and you hear a car door shut, you jump out of your seat this time. Haven’t seen Sylus since 2 pm, you rush to the door and unlock it. You quickly open it and run out of the mansion to him.

Sylus locks eyes with you as he heads towards the house, he braces himself for a jumping hug and chuckles.

You jump into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as his wraps around your back. The height difference allows your legs to dangle.

He holds you until you decide to let go, knowing you love to be clingy, and he doesn’t mind at all. “Someone missed me?” He mutters against your hair. You drop yourself to the ground and finally get a look at him.

His clothes were bloody and he had a couple of bruises scattered on his face and arms. You feel your heart stop as you look at him.

“Sy, what happened…” You whisper as you reach up and touch his face.

He winces as you near a bruise. “A run in. I’m alright sweetie, come on.” He chuckles, brushing it off and leads you inside, locking the car with a remote as we head in.

He opens the door and closes it behind us as we step into the hallway.

“Sy… Let me look. I can help, you know I enjoy taking care of you.” You look up at him as he takes off his combat boots.

“Baby, I’m okay. But if you want to, I won’t deny you.” Sylus chuckles before taking your hand and leading you further into the mansion.

“Bathroom, the first aid kit is in there.” You squeeze his hand and he nods, leading you there.

Once you’re both in the bathroom, he switches on the light and sits on the closed toilet lid, to allow you to get to him with ease. His crimson eyes look up at you as he finally gets a good look at you.

“Pretty girl.” He says with no shame and you blush as you playfully roll your eyes. You turn and open a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit.

Moving back over to Sylus, you stand in front of him. “Let’s get your shirt off, the blood is gonna only stain more the longer it sits.” You reach to take off his shirt and he nods but takes it off for you. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lets you continue.

“Sweetie, I’m not worried about the shirt. You and I both know I have enough money to buy a million of them.” He laughs, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

“Yeah you’re right, but still.” You chuckle and look down at his broad chest. Dried blood scatters across his skin and it tugs at your heart, you know his wounds heal themselves but it still upsets you.

Sylus watches your eyes waver and he takes your hand. “Sweetie, you know no one can hurt me right? No one can kill me either, only you can grant me death. Don’t worry okay?” He rubs your hand in his, and you nod.

“Sylus, I just… I don’t like to see you like this.” You sigh and you pull away for a quick second to grab a washcloth, wetting it.

“I know you don’t, and it makes me happy that you care so much about me. But they’re healed for the most part, other than the bruises. ” Sylus watches as you bring the wet cloth to his bloody chest, wiping gently.

“Bruises take longer don’t they?” You whisper as you focus and he hums in agreement.

“The one on your face Sy… They punched your pretty face.” You look at him and sigh as your eyes land on the huge bruise on his jaw.

He chuckles at your silent compliment. “You can always make me pretty again until it heals.” His eyes scan over your features, appreciating the beauty of you.

“Would you let me do your makeup?” Smiling at him, you stop wiping his chest as it’s wiped clean.

“Wouldn’t mind, if it made you happy I wouldn’t object it. You know I’d do anything you asked me to.” Sylus smiles and glances as you grab a hot pad from the first aid kit.

“So if I asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?” You joke as you press ever so gently to his jawbone bruise and he closes his eyes briefly.

“Mhm. Anything.” Sylus mutters as he takes in the heat. His words make you smile ear to ear, although you’d never ask him to jump off a cliff.

“Baby?” He speaks up all of a sudden and it catches you off guard.

“Yeah, Sy?” You look down at him with curiosity, his arm patting your hip.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, your legs are gonna start hurting. And this time it won’t be from me.” He chuckles, and you nod realizing that your legs truly do hurt from standing so long.

You sit on Sylus’ lap and he leans back to give you room to continue. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Does the bruise feel any better?” You look at Sylus, running a hand through his silver hair. He leans into your touch and nods.

“Got a couple on my arms but you don’t have to worry about those. The only one that hurts is the jaw.” He smiles softly before squeezing your hip.

You nod and giggle, “I know I just sat down, but my work is done.” He gives you a disapproving look and shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t.” Sylus smirks, and you lift a brow.

“What exactly did I miss?” You scan over his face and torso once more, checking for any marks you might’ve missed. You hear his low chuckle and your attention is brought back to his face.

“My lips sweetie.” He whispers before gripping your face in his palm and kissing you. He holds you ever so gently in his grasp and you wrap your arms around his neck like you did earlier.

His lips were tender and soft against yours, tasting mint on him.

Sylus slowly pulls away before giving you a small peck. Whispering he squeezes you again, “All mine…”

“All yours.” You repeat and he smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips once again. He quickly stands, wrapping your legs around his waist he leaves the bathroom with you.

“Sylus!” You giggle. “Where are you taking me?” You continue to laugh as he props you up higher.

He smiles at the tone of your voice. “To bed kitten.” Sylus kicks open the bedroom door and carries you over to the bed before laying you down and climbing on top of you.

“You know… There’s one more bruise.” He smirks as he hovers over you. Your eyes widen but then you catch on.

“Where exactly?” You chuckle and he holds his cocky expression before leaning down and grinding against you.

“Mmm, I think it might be there… Wanna check for me, sweetie?” Sylus’ hardness is evident as he grinds one more time. Honestly, you were shocked he got hard so fast. Yet again you were on his lap, and just looking at you gives him a semi.

“I’ll check…” You nod and he bites his bottom lip between his teeth before moving off of you. You allow him to situate himself to lie down on the bed, his upper body propped up by pillows.

You look down at the tent in his pants, gently nudging it with your hand, earning a hiss. “Where’d this giant bruise come from Sy?” You play along with his act and he smirks.

“Mmm, think from some pretty girl.” He looks at you his red eyes darker than ever.

“She must’ve been beautiful.” You smile and unzip the two zippers on his pants, his chest heaving with anticipation as you do so.

“Yeah, she is… Such a beauty.” Sylus whispers as you nudge on his pants, he lifts his hips enough for you to slide them off. But to his surprise, you yank off his boxers at the same time.

His cock springs out and slaps against his stomach, thick and dripping for you. He groans as the cool air hits his head and you giggle.

You run your fingers along his shaft and pretend to inspect. His brows furrowed as he bites back groans from the lightest touch. The most dangerous and wanted man in Philos falling apart from the slightest touch.

“i swear there’s pain from something…” Sylus tangles his hands in your locks and smirks.

“Maybe I need to check another way?” You look up at him before bringing his member to your mouth, immediately taking it in.

“Fuck baby…” He groans, low in his throat as you take him in, tongue rubbing against his tip, before you pull it out. You give kitten licks to the swollen red tip, and he hisses.

“Living up to your nickname huh? Shit…” He finally lets out a moan. His moans are the most beautiful thing you’ve heard and it never fails to make you pool between your thighs. You give the head a few more kisses before taking it back in.

He moans louder when you wrap your hand around the base that you can’t fit, stroking in time with your bobs. “Just like that… So good.”

You move your hand off his shaft and to his balls, gently fondling them. “Y/n baby… if you keep doing that I’ll cum.” He warns you and you continue.

He groans and feels himself get closer to the edge as you massage and suck him. “Baby…” He moans one last time before he grunts and finishes in your mouth.

His taste is something you so desperately craved, ropes shooting down your throat you moan around his length. He squeezes his eyes shut as that causes him to shoot out more cum.

Pulling you to him he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself on your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, he brings you to straddle him. He lowers you and you gasp, feeling his cock against your bare pussy. When the fuck did he take my clothes off? You think to yourself.

And then you realize, his evol. “Sylus!” You scold him.

“Had to baby… Couldn’t wait.” He laughs and lowers you down into him, his girth stretching you to maximum capacity. Thank god you were wet enough.

He groans and squeezes your hips, leaving bruises of their own as he attempts to bottom out. “So tight…” Sylus growls and thrusts up into you gathering more wetness.

You loosen around him and moan as he slowly thrusts up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Meet me halfway baby…” He whispers and you begin to bounce, meeting his thrusts. The sounds of your thighs slapping against his fill the room.

“Sylus…” You moan his name and he groans.

“You’re all mine baby…” He growls.

You bounce faster and he smirks as he finally sees all his length make its way into you, head bruising your cervix. He bulges into your stomach and he places a hand on it letting out a needy moan.

“I fucking love when you ride me kitten… Always do so good. Look so pretty” He watches you intensely, every face you make engraved in his brain.

“Sy… My legs hurt.” You whisper and he nods.

“That’s alright, here let me do it for you. Let me take care of you.” Sylus takes over immediately and thrusts up into you, lifting himself off the bed to hit deeper. “Just relax for me, let me make you feel good.”

You feel yourself tightening and you moan louder, feeling your walls clench him he moans. “Gonna cum for me pretty? Let go for me.” He kisses you sloppily but passionately, intertwining your hands as he resonates with you. Your hands glow and intense pleasure courses through the both of you.

Your back arches and you come undone on him, essence sliding down his shaft as he slows his movements, making love to you as you finish.

Sylus moans and fills you with his cum not even a minute later, painting your womb while he lets out a string of pretty moans. “Fucking hell… I love you so much.”

His thrusts finally stop and he stays situated inside of you while he softens, you both pant heavily and he rubs your back before lifting you. His cock slips out with a wet pop and he returns you to his chest.

You whine at the lack of fullness and he smirks. “Miss me that bad already?” Sylus leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Always.” You mumble and he chuckles.

“Always take such good care of me, sweetie. My pretty girl.” He pushes hair behind your ear that had fallen onto your face.

“Likewise…” You giggle and he playfully smacks your ass.

“Now let’s go shower, yeah?” He smirks as he looks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No funny business.” You laugh and get off his lap to stand beside the bed, legs wobbling.

“Just gonna take care of you. Aftercare~” He gives you a mischievous grin and leads you into the bathroom.

You mentally curse yourself as you prepare yourself for more “care.”

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misserabella · 7 months ago

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sick love pt2

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt1!!

summary;

after catching your best friend spencer in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the ‘friend’ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surface…

cw;

really perv!spencer, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (f & m receiving), dom spencer, p in v sex, double penetration, use of toys, unprotected sex, edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m & f), voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink (mentioned), blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

If Spencer was absolutely and sickly obsessed with you…, it sure wasn’t the worse it could get.

His mind was in haze since the first time he made you his. I had been before, but now? It was just fog all over his brain, a fog under your name.

He could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you… It was all you.

And now that you were his, his whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of his chest. He would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that he was as much yours as you were his.

But because he could not do that, he had made his personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no… Hanging hearts. So he had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders… He’ll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever he had a chance.

At first, he thought that you’d be scared by his possessiveness, but you surprised him yet once again when you’d just let him, loving his lips and marks on your skin as much as he did. He’d drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that he had pushed in between your own, his cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . “Looking so pretty today, baby.” he’d say, his breath against the wet of your skin making you shiver. “Fuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all hard on my pants.” you’d moan when his hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. “Love to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know you’re all mine...” his mouth was intoxicating, his tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. “Wear anything you want baby, anything you want.” he’d whisper, his fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall he had pinned you to. “I’ll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.” and then, he’d choke you to stay quiet as he’d eat you out on top of the teacher’s table, sneaking your wet panties in his back pocket for him to fuck his fist later.

His obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore —at least that much…—. He’d sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you. You’d end up crying on his bare chest as he would fuck you dumb, filling you up with his cum for hours on end and using you as he would use his toy. Then, he’d stay inside, keeping his cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. He’d even use the soft spot you had on him to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching films…, saying that he wouldn’t concentrate if you didn’t.

He was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone —taking the chance to stare at your clothed pussy—, braiding your hair for you —so he could get a sniff of your sweet shampoo—, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep —when he could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when he’d miss you— and softly taking it off for you when night time came… —sometimes he’d make you cry it out, fucking it out of you—. Anything he could do for you he would do, that and more.

He would often find himself in your room after telling you that he had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for his sweet collection and to touch himself buried in your sheets. He’d dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have him whimpering in his own bedroom, fucking his fleshlight while watching a bad porn in where the girl’s moans sounded like your own, groans falling from his broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. ‘Oh god, baby, so good… shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insane…’

His photo collection had grown… Really grown. His favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which he had captured your perfectly used cunt, —his cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheets— or the ones in which he could see his cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since his fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of his marks. ‘Yeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.’

He could not imagine himself nor his cock being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldn’t either. Not when he sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode him, his usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. ‘Fuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much… I’d do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuck…’

Something he loved to do every chance he could get was taste you after cheer practice —something you’ve decided try as of late, and Spencer was all for it—. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldn’t taste good, but he wasn’t having it. He had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove him crazy. And he had to say that the splits that you’d do every now and then really didn’t help the tent in between his thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, you’d find yourself holding for dear life to his hair as he kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on his shoulder as his tongue leaped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girls’ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that he found it a problem, he loved to carry you to his bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get him so hard that he couldn’t help himself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as he kissed your neck. He loved it when you would yell at him the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin —since he always seemed to push it too far those nights—, but he wouldn’t care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called his name over and over again. At the end of the day, he’d have you screaming his name in another type of scenario, and you wouldn’t be that pissed about love bites on your neck.

He also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having him rocking against your ass. Sometimes he’d even drop something under the diner’s table where you’d be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where he’d have you crying in the nook of his shoulder due to the amount of times he had already made you cum with his fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. ‘Is she okay?’ You’d hear one of your friends ask, and Spencer would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie y’all were watching that night.

The best sex came later, when you would follow him to the bathroom and he would fuck you so harsh your cheek would end up pressed against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught… Not that he’d care, just the thought of someone stepping in to him fucking you senseless had him filling your cunt in cum… Cum that he’d push inside with his fingers as he pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.

“Be a good girl and I’ll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?” and he actually would, making you come two more times with just his tongue, leaving you clean.

Something he had started to look into was a little bit more…, darker. He had feared himself when the thought of you bleeding with his initials carved on your skin almost made him faint. Just thinking about you completely to his mercy, all tied up and open for him unable to move, got him unable to sleep for almost a week. He could almost hear your pleads and cries as he fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.

But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. He just wished it never had to.

That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the pool with your group, your hair still wet since you had been begging him to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all wrinkled due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Spencer had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. “Woah! Careful babe.” he smiled when you had slipped against wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when his warm arms pressed you against his bare chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help falling for you, Reid.” he chuckled, your burning skin against his colder one making him slightly dizzy, his dick throbbing inside his blue short jeans when your nails scratched his chest, doe eyes looking up at him as you bit your bottom lip.

“That’s my line, baby.” he muttered, leaning in ‘till your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when his tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where his fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against his hardening cock.

The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, his fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when his mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. “Spencer…” you called out for him, hearing him hum against your skin as one of his legs pushed in between your thighs. “We need to shower.”

“I’ll clean you up baby.” your cheeks flushed when his tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. “You know I’m good at that.” and you knew what he meant, but you still wouldn’t give in, hearing him groan when you pulled him away from your neck by his hair. “Baby…” his lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.

“I need to go wash up.” his hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.

“I could wash up with you.” he suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what he whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for… 10 minutes.

“I’ll be back.” you promised, giving him a little peck on the lips, leaning on his ear so only he could listen to what you whispered. “Keep this warm for me, alright?” he whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to his hard dick, quickly leaving downstairs and scaping his hands.

Normally, Spencer was pretty patient. Hell, he had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that he got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had him all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. He’d always want more and more after each overdose. He couldn’t help it, you were all he had ever dreamed of. That’s why he found himself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to his room —which was connected to his private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at his house—. He had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of his clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years he had imagined this…

You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of his room and beside his desk, which’s last drawer was fully open and exposed. He felt his blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You weren’t supposed to see what was inside, weren’t supposed to be eyeing his little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the model’s. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets he has stolen from you…, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys he had bought in hopes to someday using in you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffs…Everything.

“Baby…” he stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadn’t been long since the last time he had masturbated to them. Maybe that’s why in a little slip he had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when you’d found his little dirty secret. “Shit.” You had even found his fucking diary, in which he described the dirty things he dreamed of you, that he’d love to do to you… Fucking hell.

He didn’t know what to say to not seem like the creep he was. He had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave him, you were going to probably call the police and get him in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, you weren’t supposed to see any of this, you weren’t supposed to…” he was trailing off as his feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. His eyes widened when he saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at him, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. “Look at me.” the low of his voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.

“Spencer…” you whined when his thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards him. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had his dick jumping in his jeans and blood rushing to his head.

“Look at me.” he repeated, this time taking his time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met his, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Spencer made you feel dizzy, the words on his diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure… His eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. “Look at you.” he chuckled, unable to believe any of this. You whimpered when his hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against his bare chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when his lips brushed against the conch of your ear. “Did my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?” you moaned when his leg pressed in between your thighs, he could feel the heat of your core against his bare thigh. “Aw of course you did, you love it, don’t you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed… Fuck you all up and pretty for me until you’re nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?” you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when he pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on him. His lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging him for more. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?”

“Fuck, Spencer, yessyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.” he groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to flow in his mouth. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave him more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on his air, his half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on his crimson stained lips.

“What is it baby? Want a taste?” he leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at his teasing, pushing him against you when his lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. He clicked his tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. “If you want something… You just need to ask.” your back arched when his free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at his harsh grip on one of them.

“Please Spencer, kiss me, kiss me…” you craved it so bad it hurt.

“Poor thing. Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you didn’t wait to follow his words, moaning when his tongue entered your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood making your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips stuttering as you dry humped his thigh. He kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, the taste of your blood on his mouth, his right hand on your neck and his left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces he quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when his fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when his name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against his hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. “Be good baby, you know that’s not my name, is it?” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry daddy…” a smirk tugged on his lips, and he rewarded you with his fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.

“Now swallow.” you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. “What a beautiful mouth you have…” you moaned when he thrusted his fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against his fingers and thigh. “Yet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.” you felt like crying when he took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of his touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. “You know your safe word, right?” you nodded as you heard the ruffling of his jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around his ankles, his soaked underwear came shortly after. “Good… If it’s too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?” You moaned affirmatively when the tip of his cock pressed against your cheek, precum staining the curve of your lips when he outlined them. “Open.” he didn’t have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive him in your mouth, which was watering at the thought of choking on his cock, of swallowing his cum. He cursed when you kitten licked his tip, the salty of the white beads on his slit making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push his hips closer, head leaning in to completely take him, just to whimper when he tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. “Such a fucking slut hungry for cock.” he chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have him in your mouth. “I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t that right? Want me to fuck that little and tight throat of yours, hm?” you nodded, a ‘yes, please daddy, want your cock so bad…’, leaving your lips, what made him click his tongue, tip pressing against your wet tongue when you pushed it out of your mouth. “Then fucking take it.” you were gagging when he thrusted inside your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against his dick so he could reach the back part of your throat, nose buried in his pubic hair as your nails dug on his thighs. “What is it, baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you whimpered when he pulled out just to ram back in, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of his big cock fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying due to the constant chocking and gagging, tears running down your cheeks as you took him in your mouth. “Aw, you crying?” the sight of your tears only made him buck his hips harder and faster against your face. “I couldn’t care less.” you moaned around his cock, feeling it twitching in your mouth every time you deep throated him. “Yeah, baby, fuck, take my cock, shit, just like that… What a dirty girl…” one of the hands that stood on his thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. “Are you touching yourself?“ you nod around his cock, a whimper leaving your lips when his tip hit the back of your throat after giving you a harsh slap. “Such a desperate little bitch… Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?” his dick came out of your mouth and you gasped for air, which didn’t actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as he kneeled with you.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry daddy!” you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.

“Yeah, you’ll be.” next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with his bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when his body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.

“Fuck!” you screamed when two of his fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as he sucked on your nipples, fully erect.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? I’m sure you do, you dirty whore…” you thighs trembled when he hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Spencer, on his pretty fingers fucking in and out of you, of his teeth on your tits, on his cock fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.

“Fuck Spencer, i-i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna…” and as your walls clenched, you cried out when he left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for him, but he pressed them against the duvet, finger digging in your wrists. “Please, Spencer, daddy, shit, I was so close…”

“I didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” oh, he was playing you. You knew this was his little vengeance for that day you had caught him touching himself. His eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank his hand gave to your soaked cunt. “Look at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for cock…” your back arched when his thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. He relished in the little pleads that left your lips. ‘Please daddy, ah let me cum, please? I’ll do— I’ll do anything, anything. Spencer, shit, please…’ “Anything?” you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to to even notice the subtle change in his gaze. “Okay, then don’t regret it later…”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone in his bed as he stood up, looking for something before he would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what he was holding in between his wet fingers: a dildo.

You moaned when his lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as he sucked on your bottom lip. “If you’re so desperate…, why don’t you show me how much you want it?” he said once he had pulled away, tongue outlining his swollen lips as his hand —the one that hold the toy— rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what he was doing; swapping places.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your cries being shut out when one of his hands cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against his own.

“Come on, you said you’d do anything.“ he was smirking when his thumbed pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it backwards and then sticking it in your mouth. “Good girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me… I’ll fuck your just how you need it, hm?” he clicked his tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around his finger. “Then go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.”

He leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as he handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length —there’s no need to say that Spencer’s cock was bigger in both ways, and much more beautiful…— with even veins on its sides.

His eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. “Yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself for me… That’s a good girl.” you moaned as you saw his fist hold his hard cock, sliding up and down, slowly, as he observed you. It only made you want him more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. He had fucked your throat for good. “Fuck, baby, just like that… So pretty.” his praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. “Look at you…” he chuckled when you started to pick up pace. “Needy, honey?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. “Don’t silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.” his hand matched your pace, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.

“Spencer, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Spencer, shit, right there, ah!”

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut…” he moaned, getting on top of your body once again, hand meeting yours at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. “You like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, don’t you?” you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. “You want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Spencer, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me please…” your hips were bucking against his hand, begging for more. You were burning up, craving him in ways you’ve never craved anyone before. Craving for him to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of his leaking cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as he continued to pound inside of you with the dildo. “Then take it, take my cock, baby.” your eyes widened when you felt him push against your hole, still filled up by the toy. You hands quickly tried and push on his chest, but you moaned when his tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt him start to push inside of you. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on his shoulder, making him moan against your neck. “Fuck. So tight. Shit.” you were sobbing by the time he was halfway in, where he stopped momentarily to let you breath. “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, you can do it.” he was hushing you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed the tears away. “You want me to stop? Just say the word baby, just say the word and I will…” his eyes were sweet —although lust glossed them— when he stared at you, promise on the hazel of his irises. You knew he would do it, that he would shut everything down and forget all about this. But you wanted it. Wanted it as badly as him. Craved it even. So you simply shook your head, giving him the green flag to continue. “Fuck, I love you.” he said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much…” you both moaned in each other’s mouth as his hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when he was completely in. “What a good girl…” you were crying on his hands as he praised you, trying to breath through your nose and get the slightest used to the filling of not just one, but two cocks inside of you. “So tight for me.” your back arched when he started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples —which he sucked and bit down onto—.

“Shit, Spencer…” he smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when he hit your g spot, legs surrounding his hips and fingers digging in his messy and silky hair. “Just like that, don’t stop, please…”

“Look at you… You love the feeling of two cocks inside you, don’t you? Filling you up so good you can’t even breath, hm? What a whore…” you moaned, exposing your neck to his lips. “Can’t get enough with just one so you must have two. So greedy…”

“Spencer!” you screamed when his thrust became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.

“Do you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?” he almost came in the spot when his eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. “Fuck, look at that. So full of me…” you didn’t mean to, but you were cumming all over his cock and the toy when his fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around him, making him groan. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in his arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. “Shit, that was so fucking hot…” his hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around him. “Don’t clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dry…” he chuckled just to curse moments after.

You were drooling on your shoulder as he thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good by having that goddamn dildo inside of you that he felt that tightening feeling of jealousy string around his heart. “Fuck this.” he wanted you all for himself. Wanted to fuck you all by himself ‘till you couldn’t even remember you own fucking name.

You whined when he pulled out of you the toy, your walls quickly molding to his size just how he liked it. Still so fucking tight. You felt loss at the little emptiness that the toy left behind, but it quickly got pushed outside of your mind when Spencer started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as he slightly sat up, bringing you down on his cock with each new thrust. “Spencer, ah, shit, so good…, fuck, daddy, more!” he moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down his dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.” he said, changing positions so one of his hands would be free to circle your clit.

“Shit, Spencer, fuck I’m coming!” you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.

Spencer continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough.

“Spencer, ‘s too— too much, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, fingers never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on his back, drawing blood as you gushed all over his cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. “S-Spencer, s-stop…” you were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at his constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Spencer couldn’t stop his hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of your pussy around him was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of his cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making him lose his mind. “I’m gonna cum, shit!” he moaned when he spilled inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering at the sticky and warm feeling. “Fuck, baby, so good…” he muttered against your neck as he fucked himself down his climax, hips stopping while he was still buried deep inside of you and arms failing to keep him up right, making him fall on top of you.

The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before his lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on his locks, pulling and playing with his hair as his teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, and…

You hissed when he pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as his lips trailed down your stomach.

“Hurts?” he questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. “Want me to kiss it better?” you let out a little gasp when he nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.

He took the tugging on his hair as a ‘yes’, positioning himself better and raising your legs up on his shoulders as he left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as he neared closed and closer… “Poor baby, fucked so good it’s all sore and swollen now.” You moaned when he finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of the two of you dripping out of your cunt. Your head felt backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into his lips, into his name and fingers.

Into his sick love. Into Spencer Reid.

2K notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 11 months ago

Text

A battering ram in bed

ʚ virgin!konig x reader, 4k words

ʚ cont: fem reader, dad bod konig, oral (m!r), throat fucking, first times, edging, monster cock konig, rough sex, fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, finger sucking, hand jobs

note: for my pookie @istyrrstars i hope u enjoy, ty for getting me out of my writers block w/ this <3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Konig's hands curled into the hard, cold metal of the door behind him. His eyes were wide in shock, head tipped down as he watched you palm him over his pants. "Is- is this okay?" He stuttered, his eyes anxiously darting between your eyes and your hand which looked dwarfed in comparison to his bulge. "I don't know Konig, is it okay?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you looked up at him.

"You're twitching." You whispered, wrapping your hand around his length now that it had grown harder in his pants. Konig released a shaky moan he had been holding back out of embarrassment. He was relieved by the mask covering his face and neck, he could feel how hot his skin was burning under your attention, surely he already looked like a mess underneath the mask.

Konig unclenched and clenched his fingers against the door, fighting the urge to not cum in his pants or freak out at the situation. "Do you want me to stop, Konig?" You asked, batting your eyelashes up at him as you continued to stroke him off, gripping him harder than before. Konig's eyes rolled back in his head. The strong, rouch stimulation of his cock rubbing against the fabric of his boxers was driving him crazy, he could feel his cock leaking the longer you went on.

Konig shook his head, his eyes finding your hand again. He was seemingly in a trance as he watched your hand work on him, his brain almost short-circling when you added your other hand to the mix, one not being enough to fully stroke him how you needed to. "Don't be shy, you can touch me." You teased, finding his hands and watching them shaky and struggle against the door.

It was obvious he had never done this before and had no idea what to do with his hands. Konig was respectful, he didn't want to do something wrong or make you uncomfortable. "I don't know where to put them, my hands." He said, voice shaky and gruff. You smiled and grabbed one of his wrists with your hand, pulling it towards you, you placed it on your hip, shocked at how much of your body he could encase in just one palm.

His hand was so warm even through the glove, that he must be overheating in all that gear he was still adorned in. "The other one too." You instructed, making Konig nod in understanding as he slowly placed his other hand on your waist. He felt his cock twitch as he struggled to not leave bruises on your skin from how hard he was grabbing you. Your body felt so fragile under his hands, he was enthralled with you.

"Let's move this to my bed, hm? Might be a little more comfortable for you." You whispered, nodding at him as you spoke. "Okay…" Konig nodded in a trance, his voice hoarse as he spoke. You released his cock; which made the large man internally groan; before you grabbed his hands off your waist and leaned back, pulling him towards the bed with you.

Konig swallowed whatever saliva was left in his extremely dry mouth as he watched the person of his dreams drag him to bed to do god knows what with him. Just before your shins hit the end of the bed, you spun Konig around and pushed him towards the bed. Konig was much larger than you, so your attempted shove didn't do much, but the man took the hint, sitting down on your comforter.

Konig sat on the edge of the end of your bed, legs spread wide, giving you the perfect seat. You placed your hands on Konig's chest and pushed him to lie down as you straddled his hips, feeling his impossibly hard cock poke you through his bulky pants. Konigs hands shot up to your waist, as he decided this was a safe space to touch you. "You're so hard." You whispered, giving an experimental rut of your hips against his lap.

Konig released a high-pitched groan, his legs spreading wider as the pleasure from the pressure of your body on top of him spread through his body. "I'm surprised you can feel anything through these thick pants." You joked caressing his clothed hip with one of your hands. "I think you'd feel a lot better if we took them off." You suggested, raising your eyebrows at the man under you.

Konig felt like he was going to explode. The pressure and friction he was already getting from this was making his head spin, he couldn't imagine what it was going to feel like without the protection of his pants. "Alright." He agreed, nodding his head. You smiled when his fingers curled into the skin of your hips with more pressure before you slid off of his lap and stood in front of him between his slid legs.

Konig pushed his body up from the sheets and reached his shaky hands down to his belt, beginning to work on getting it off of him. You ran your hands teasingly up and down the expanse of his thick thighs as he pulled the belt out of the loops in his pants, throwing it to the side. Konig looked hasty, your touching on him was probably making him more antsy than you even knew.

Konig lifted his ass and pulled his pants down his large, toned thighs, kicking them off his feet, leaving them pooled on the ground. You lost your breath for a moment as you took in how large his thighs were. When he flexed them as he took his pants off, you could clearly see the defined muscle, but now that they were relaxed against the bed, they looked much softer. You wonder how the rest of his body looked.

The next thing your eyes caught was the massive bulge in his boxers. The thin fabric did very little to conceal his hard-on, his boner sticking straight up in them, revealing his shocking length. Konig noticed your staring and adjusted himself in front of you, pushing his boner down so it didn't look as prominent, although he had already been exposed. You ran your hands across his bare thighs, his warm skin heating up your cold fingertips.

You watched his cock jump at your teasing touch, as you dragged your hands up to the end of his boxers before back down to his knees again. "Please." He whined under his breath, his hands curling into the fabric of the bed. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side, smiling. "Please, touch my dick again." He begged, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Come here." You instructed, motioning for him to scoot closer to the end of the bed. Konig did as he was instructed, putting his ass a little over the end of the bed. "Good." You praised before you dropped to your knees, keeping your hands on his large thighs. Konig felt his heart race, although he had no experience, he had seen stuff like this picture in front of him now in porno mags the other soldiers passed around at the base, though they were always tastefully blocked by the back of the girl's head, leaving little to the imagination.

You traced your fingers along the freckles of his thigh, connecting them with one single line. Konig felt goosebumps rise on his skin from the soft, barely there touch. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the most prominent freckle on the inside of his thigh, making him sharply inhale at the soft feeling of your lips on his skin.

You finally let your hand drag high enough up his thigh to grab his cock, wrapping your hand around it. You could feel the skin on his cock moving with your hand under the fabric as you jerked him off, the stimulation making him groan, his eyes fluttering in their sockets. "Your boxers are soaked!" You exclaimed, surprised at how much a grown man like him leaked into his boxers from just a little touching.

"I've never done this before." He answered, his accent making you press your legs together. "Really?" You responded, knowing full well he hadn't done anything like this before. "Is that why you're so sensitive?" You asked, finding his tip through his boxers and rubbing your hand around the tip. Konig's hand shot up and gripped your wrist firmly, preventing you from moving much. "T-too much." He stuttered, his thighs closing a bit.

"Sorry." You giggled, removing your hand from his cock. Konig released your wrist as soon as his cock stopped twitching frantically, he must've been close, or maybe his tip was just that sensitive. "Hey, Konig." You said, getting his full attention. The man looked down at you, finding your eyes to let you know he was listening. "You ever got a blowjob before?" You asked, sneaking your fingers into the band of his boxers.

Konig's eyes went wide in surprise, he guessed that's where this was heading but now that it was actually happening he was starting to freak out a bit. "No, I haven't." He answered, his voice sounding shaky and nervous, only adding to your own arousal. You tapped the side of his thigh and silently told him to raise his hips as you dragged his boxers down his thick thighs. His cock sprung out of his boxers and slapped heavily against his shirt, making your mouth water.

"Toda's your lucky day." You said, biting your lip as you found his eyes again. If Konig felt like he had a hot face earlier, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. "Do you want me to suck you off?" You asked pointing to your lips. Konig's dick twitched at your words, a bead of precum leaking from his tip, soaking into his shirt. "It won't hurt you?" He asked, watching with bated breath as you stood on your knees and slid your hands up his thighs again, both hands aiming for his bare cock.

A moan was stolen from Konig's throat when you wrapped both hands around his thick cock and began screwing them up and down, rotating your hands in opposite directions. It was already almost too much for the man, his leg started shaky and bouncing as he tried to comprehend how much pleasure he was feeling. "Hmmm…" You said, leaning closer to his cock.

Konig watched with bated breath as you eyed the tip of his cock, watching how another fat bead of precum welled up on the slit on his sensitive cockhead. You felt him throb in your hand as you leaned down and licked the salty liquid up, swallowing it down quickly. "You are pretty big, I'm not sure how much of it I'll be able to take." You finally answered. Konig felt his ego swell, making his blood run through his body hotter. He knew he was hung down there, always getting teased about it in the bathroom by his other soldiers, but hearing it from you felt different.

"Don't hurt yourself," Konig said, his high-pitched voice shaky and full of worry for you. You pressed a soft kiss to his fat cockhead, making him hiss, before you looked up at him. "You're so kind." You said, before averting your attention back to his cock. The size was very intimidating, but you knew anything you did would feel good for him considering how sensitive he was, so you weren't worried.

"You can touch me again Konig, put your hand on my head if you don't know what to do with it." You reiterated. You licked another fat stripe against his cockhead before you fully leaned down and took his tip into your mouth. Konig wasted no time in abiding by your words and carding his hand in your hair. You felt his finger shake and strain against your head as he undoubtedly fought to not pull your hair, although that's what you wanted him to do.

Your eyes shut and your eyebrows furrowed as you took him deeper and deeper into your mouth. Konig's high-pitched whines and groans were getting sent straight to your cunt, as you tried to press your thighs together to the best of your ability from the position you were in. "Oh god-" He groaned when you took him about halfway into your mouth before you coughed around him. He was filling your mouth up entirely, and his cock got thicker the more you went down, he was starting to stretch your mouth.

Konig's breathing consisted of steady panting and whines as you sucked him off, your hands jerking the base of his cock up and down that your mouth couldn't take in. "Good, feels good," Konig whined, his fingers finally curling into your hair, his head falling back as his eyes shut in pleasure. You would've smiled if your mouth wasn't full of cock.

You tasted him again as he dripped more and more pre cum into your mouth, only aiding in the slickness and sloppiness of the blowjob from all the spit that was dribbling out the side of your mouth. "Can you take more?" Konig whined, his voice coming out needy and gruff, he sounded so aroused. You popped your mouth off of his cock and smiled at him, stroking him off as you did. You watched Konig's eyes roll back in his head at how fast you were jerking him off, the lewd wet noises from his cock echoing inside his head.

"I can try, wanna help me?" You asked, tilting your head at him. "Yeah, yes, please." He responded, making you giggle at how eager he was. "Just need you to push down on my head okay? I'll tap your thigh if it's too much." You instructed, making Konig nod hastily. You leaned your head back down to his cock and took his thick length into your mouth.

You were able to take more of him easily this time around since your mouth and throat were becoming more adjusted to having such a thick foreign object inside it. You looked up at him from under your lashes and nodded, placing your hands on his thighs, leaving him free reign to push you down as far as he wanted. You braced yourself and did your best to suppress your gag reflex and breathe through your nose when you felt Konig start to press down on your head.

You fought him a little at first, struggling to take his cock so deep. When you got about an inch away from taking his entire cock into your throat, you gagged and gripped his thighs, making your throat contract around him. Konig whined loudly, his fingers raking against your scalp as he curled his fingers in your hair. You felt him twitch inside your throat, he must be having a field day.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" He asked, caressing your cheek with his other hand. Your cheeks were wet with tears as you struggled not to choke on his massive cock. Nonetheless, you tried to nod at him, feeling his cock jolt around in your throat at the movement. "Good." He responded, thighs shaking and threatening to close around your body in pleasure.

When you were ready, he began aiding you in bobbing your head up and down along his fat cock, his cockhead rubbing the back of your throat with each thrust. "I-I've never felt anything like this, so good, so good." He repeated, his hips shallowing jerking up against your mouth every so often.

The bottom half of your face was covered in saliva and cum, which stuck to his pelvis each time he bobbed you fully down on him. Just when you felt your jaw starting to ache, you noticed Konig's moans increase in volume and pitch, along with how fidgety he was getting. He was constantly cocking his head to the side, his thighs and arms were shaky, his eyes kept scrunching and rolling back in his head, he was close.

"It's coming, I'm going to cum-" Konig warned, his shaky hand losing grip against your head. You tapped his thigh in a warning and placed your hand on top of his, pulling up on it, letting you release his cock from between your sloppy lips. You gasped and wiped your mouth as clean as you could get it. Konigs cock looked so sloppy and wet, as it twitched needily and frequently against nothing. Konig still held your face as he waited for you to speak, he felt his balls ache with how close his orgasm had been, and you just ripped it away from him.

You wasted no time with words and rose from your place between his thighs, pushing his chest back hard with your hand, making him lay back against the comforter. Konig tipped his chin down to watch you hastily pull your pants and panties off your body in one fell swoop before you climbed on top of him, straddling his cock. "What- what are you doing?" He asked, his hands finding your hips as comfort.

"Wanna fuck me?" You asked, reaching between the two of you and finding his cock, you stroked it up and down, his cock soaked with your saliva and his cum. "L-like this?" He asked, referring to the fact that he wasn't wearing a condom. "I'm on birth control, you can't get me pregnant." You explained. "So if you wanna, you can fill me up as much as you want." You finished, making Konig release a long, strained groan.

"Okay." He said, nodding at you. "Okay, what?" You asked, tapping his cock against your pussy from underneath. Konig gasped at the feeling, his eyes finding your cunt. You were so wet, your slick dripping against his cock from just a little touching, it was driving him crazy. Konig swallowed hard, his heart beating out of his chest as he averted his eyes to the wall behind you. "I want you to put it in, I want to fuck you." He said, throbbing in your hand.

"Good boy." You praised, smiling as you rubbed his cockhead against your entrance and found your tight hole with his cock, trying to press it in. You lowered your weight on him, your mouth falling open in a small O as you tried to force his massive cock inside you with zero prep. Konig watched with furrowed eyebrows as you struggled to take him in. "Fuck, this isn't going to work." You mumble under your breath, something Konig didnt miss. "Give me your hand." You instructed, holding your hand out for him.

Konig released one of his hands from your waist and placed it in your hand. You flipped his palm to face the ceiling and pulled his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers against your pussy. Konig's cock twitched as he felt your soft, hot, cunt, a noise of surprise leaving his lips. "Usually I'd be more thorough with having you stretch me out, but I don't wanna wait anymore." You said, pressing his fingers inside your pussy.

It wasn't fair, every part of his body was so fucking thick, even his fingers were a challenge. "Just thrust them upwards and curl them like you're trying to touch my stomach." You instructed, sitting back on his soft thighs, which flexed every so often under your ass. You thrust your hips toward him and placed your hand on his knee, leaning back a bit so he could finger you better.

Konig curled his fingers upwards experimentally and was shocked when he was met with your walls squeezing around him and your jaw falling open in a silent scream. "That- do that again." You instructed, gripping his thick wrist with your other hand, keeping his fingers deep inside you. Konig did as he was told and curled his fingers inside you with more confidence now, thrusting them upwards as well. Your chin fell down as you watched his fingers work inside you, the sight arousing you to no end.

"Fuck- fuck Konig right there, keep fingering me just like that-" You whined, bounding your hips down on his fingers to make him give it to you harder. Konig looked like he was in a trance, every time your cunt clenched around him, a strained moan left his lips. He couldn't believe what he was doing. You felt so hot inside, he was almost worried his fingers were going to melt. How was it going to feel around his cock? Was it going to be this intense?

You felt yourself nearing the edge, and quick as he fingered you faster, slamming them up into you and curling them against your sweet spot. But you had other plans, you didn't want to cum like this, just like you didn't want to waste Konig's cum down your throat instead of inside you. "O-okay, that's enough." It took Konig a moment to register your words before he pulled his fingers out from inside you. His eyes found his hand and his heart skipped a beat as he stared at the sloppy wet mess covering his fingers.

He was only jolted out of his trance when he felt you grab his cock again and began rubbing his sensitive tip against your now worked-open hole. "It's still gonna be a tight fit." You joked, making his eyebrows furrow. "If it's too much-" "I know Konig, you're so sweet, but I can take it." You interrupted, placing your hand on his chest and straddling his hips. His thighs felt so soft under your own, the hairs on his legs tickling your skin as you rested on him.

You both watched as you inserted his cock inside your cunt and slowly slid down on him, teeth grit and face twisted in pleasured pain. Konig's muscles flexed and clenched under your own, he felt his balls throb as your walls engulfed his cock. He was right, it was just as hot and intense as he thought it was going to be. "So warm, I-it's so tight." Konig whimpered, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. You slid your hands down the sides of his body and found the bottom of his shirt that covered the rest of his impressive body from you.

You found his eyes as you continued to slowly take in his cock while you pushed his shirt up his body, exposing his tummy and pecs. He was so large, the sheer size of him compared to you made your stomach do a flip. You thought his uniform bulked him up, but the truth was, the uniform only did so much, most of his size was from his own body. His stomach and pecs had a bit of pudge, but every time he flexed his stomach, you could feel the hard muscle hiding underneath it.

You both moaned in unison when you finally bottomed out on his cock. One of your hands placed itself over your tummy as you pressed down a bit over the bulge there. You could feel how deep he was inside you, how hard he felt. "D-dont touch there," Konig warned, his hand gripping your wrist. "Why not?" You asked, smiling cockily at him. "It's so tight already, can't take much more." He whined, his eyes barely open.

"Yeah? Does it feel good?" You asked running your hands along his body while you slowly rocked back and forth on him, jolting his cock inside your walls. He nodded quickly, his head rolling back and forth in pleasure against the comforter. You felt yourself throb around him, he looked so fucked out already. "Yeah? You like fucking me raw?" You teased, picking up your hips before slowly sliding back down. Maintaining your composure was proving to be quite difficult when his cock filled you up completely and pressed against your g-spot constantly.

Konig's eyes rolling back in his head made you feel like you were losing your mind with him. "Fuck me, Konig, cmon." You pleaded, slowly sliding up and down on his cock. Only seconds after you uttered those words, Konig placed his feet on the mattress and began fucking up into you, wasting no time in working up a slow pace to get you used to his cock, it was clear as day he was a virgin. You dug your nails into the fat of his pecs, which flexed under your fingers.

"F-fuuuc-kk Konigg," You whined as he bullied his cock in and out of your walls with reckless abandon. His moans were louder and higher pitched than yours, the raspiness of his sounds sending pleasure straight to your core. Konig roughly gripped your hips and slammed you fully down on his cock, your insides were sure to ache like hell after, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care as he fucked you stupid.

"Oh god-" He wined, his head falling back against the sheets, eyes falling shut as he used you like a fleshlight. You took the opportunity to slide a hand up his chest and under his mask, finding his neck. Konig jerked his head down to look at you, eyes open a bit wider in shock when he realized your hand was on his bare neck. "I-it okay, n-not gonna look at your face." You reassured before sliding your hand higher up his neck and finding his face.

You weren't surprised in the slightest to feel his open mouth panting hot breath against your hand. You pressed two fingers between his lips and smiled when he immediately wrapped his fingers around them, his tongue swirling around them sloppily, like he wasn't sure what to do. You felt your orgasm rapidly approach feeling him suck on your fingers like no tomorrow as he sloppily fucked his hips up into you with no rhythm.

You were almost disoriented when he quickly wrapped an arm around your torso and flipped you over in one motion, keeping your fingers in his mouth. His lips opened around them every so often as he moaned shamelessly, drilling into you from above now. You winced in pleasure from the new angle, and how he was somehow fucking you deeper now. "Konig- K-konig-" You were quickly overwhelmed as he crushed you with his massive frame, his strong arms wrapping around your body, his soft tummy pressing into yours, all while he fucked you like the needy virgin he was while sucking on your fingers.

"It-it's coming again, please don't stop this time," Konig begged around your fingers, feeling his balls pulse with the need to cum. His hard pelvis was rubbing against your clit so perfectly, you were right there with him. You would properly teach him about the wonderfulness of the clit another day because right now this was doing it for you. "I won't stop- I'm gonna c-cum too." You whispered back. You quickly pulled your fingers from his hot mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck as he buried his face in yours.

The squelching from between your legs was driving him crazy. You were so wet around his dick, he'd never felt anything like this from his fist and lube before, he was addicted already. "I can cum inside?" He whined against your neck, double-checking he was alright to cum only seconds before he let go. You squeezed your arms tighter around his neck, keeping his soft body tightly against your own as he fucked you hard.

"Yeah, yeah you- you can cum inside- fuck-" You whined, your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your own orgasm coiling up inside you. "Ngggh- Konig- Konig I'm cumming-" That was all the larger man needed to finish right there with you. He felt like a nail inside his head had just been struck inside the coffin, the final push he needed.

Konig whimpered and gasped into the crook of your neck as he fucked his hips against your own, releasing hot, thick streaks of his cum deep inside your pussy, making sure his dick thrust it all inside you. Your walls spasmed around him as you came, clenching and unclenching, making him grit his teeth at the amazing feeling he was going to burn into his memory so he never forgot what it felt like.

Your legs shook around his body as you came down from your orgasm, your head still in the clouds as your pussy weakly pulsed around him. Konig kept himself balls deep inside of you until his cock finished pulsing and his balls were thoroughly empty. "H-hah… It's so warm." He whined into the crook of your neck, making you laugh against him. His soft body crushing yours felt more comforting than it did overwhelming, especially coming down from such an intense orgasm.

"I- I don't wanna move yet." Konig pleaded, squeezing you tighter when you barely moved against him. You placed your hand on the back of his head and caressed him, wincing a bit when you felt his cum squeeze out of your pussy and leak down your ass. "We don't have to get up yet." You said, comforting him. Konig was still breathing heavily and whining every so often, overwhelmed with everything he was feeling.

"You did so good Konig, made me feel so good." You praised. You felt him nuzzle his head deeper into the crook of your neck at your words, undoubtedly in embarrassment. "You made me feel good too. I don't want to stop doing this with you." Konig admitted, voice a bit muffled and weak due to his abashed nature and lack of energy. You felt your heart swell at his post-nut confession.

"Who said I'm gonna let you go so easily? You're stuck with me now." You replied, smiling to yourself when you heard him whine into the crook of your neck. Who knew such a big scary man could be so cute?

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig x you #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig x y/n #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #cod smut #cod modern warfare smut #ghost smut

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bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

Text

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunny-jpeg and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is.

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring.

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different.

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy.

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles.

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you.

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall.

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him.

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one.

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him.

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back.

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner.

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck.

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied.

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request.

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante.

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down.

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly.

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting.

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe.

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in.

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else.

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit.

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like.

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside.

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him.

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips.

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable.

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs.

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer.

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly.

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you.

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds.

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier.

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows.

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him.

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles.

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good.

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum.

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart.

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement.

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out.

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer.

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater.

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out.

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you.

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?”

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle.

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort.

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence.

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall.

You hope one day you get to find out.

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you.

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you.

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye.

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm.

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour.

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06.

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge

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carnalcrows · 18 days ago

Text

ME 'N THE DEVIL - THE SALESMAN

pairing: salesman x bottom male reader

synopsis: A story of obsession and longing, where one man's desperate need for love traps another in a web of fear, desire, and the haunting promise of safety that feels anything but safe.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, kidnapping, drugging, blood, reader's boyfriend is an abusive bitch, death, dubcon, forced submission, breading, cream pie, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 4.1k

A/N: requested by 🥀 anon (link). i don't think i did enough justice to this amazing prompt sksksjsj

The bar was nearly empty that night—just how you preferred it. The soft hum of the jukebox played a tired old rock ballad, the kind that felt heavy with nostalgia, though you couldn’t place why. The faint clink of glassware punctuated the quiet, as the bartender cleaned glasses with the same rhythmic monotony they’d perfected over years.

You sat hunched over the counter, fingers curling loosely around your glass of whiskey. The amber liquid reflected the dim, golden glow of the bar lights, casting distorted shadows against the wood.

“And then he…” You trailed off, swallowing against the lump rising in your throat. You stared into the glass, as though the answer to your pain might be hiding somewhere in the depths of the drink. “He called me a waste of space.”

The words hung in the air, raw and shameful. Your voice wavered, and you fought the urge to cry.

“Like I don’t already feel like one most days,” you mumbled, your lips pressing into a bitter line.

The bartender paused their wiping to nod, their expression one of quiet sympathy. But the gesture felt empty, rehearsed even. They probably heard stories like yours a hundred times a week—drunken tales of bad lovers, broken hearts, and bruised egos. Still, you pressed on.

“He doesn’t just yell,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sometimes… he hits me. But he always says he’s sorry after, and I…” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped you, cutting through the thick air. “I keep forgiving him. Like a goddamn idiot.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you and the bartender. Their eyes flicked to the clock, their discomfort palpable. You couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to hear a stranger’s misery, especially one they couldn’t fix?

“Sounds like he doesn’t deserve you.”

The voice startled you—smooth, confident, and close enough to make you stiffen. It came from your left.

You turned your head, blinking at the man who had somehow slipped onto the stool beside you without you noticing. He was striking, his sharp features framed by slicked-back hair that glinted faintly under the dim bar lights. His suit was tailored to perfection, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes that hinted at wealth and precision. But it was his eyes that caught you most. They were piercing, their intensity almost predatory, like they saw right through you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your surprise laced with suspicion.

The man smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could melt the edges of even the hardest heart. It was warm, practiced, and just shy of charming.

“You deserve better,” he said, his tone soft but sure. “That much is obvious.”

You frowned, instinctively pulling back a little. The comment was unexpected, and you didn’t know how to take it. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He leaned back slightly, casual and self-assured, like he belonged in every space he entered. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. You deserve better than what you’re settling for.”

The directness of his words left you flustered. You hesitated, unsure whether to be defensive or grateful.

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, a hint of challenge in your tone.

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t need to. Some things are obvious.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. But his face betrayed nothing except an odd mix of calm and curiosity. Finally, you turned back to your drink, muttering under your breath, “Bold of you to assume you know my life.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m wrong,” he countered smoothly.

The corners of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

The next time you saw him, you were back at the bar, nursing yet another drink after another brutal argument with your boyfriend. The whiskey burned less this time, your tolerance rising in step with your misery.

You’d been thinking about the man from the other night more than you cared to admit—his sharp wit, his confidence, the way his presence had made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.

When he appeared again, sliding onto the stool beside you like he belonged there, your heart skipped a beat.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting, as if you were old friends.

“Something like that,” you muttered, your head low. You didn’t want to spill your heart out again—not tonight.

But he had a way of drawing you out. His questions were easy, his comments sharp but never cutting. Before you knew it, you were talking again—about nothing and everything. About the little annoyances of your day and the bigger cracks threatening to break you apart.

He listened, really listened, and offered thoughts that were insightful without being overbearing. He even made you laugh—a genuine laugh, something you hadn’t done in weeks.

By the time you realized how much time had passed, the bar was closing, and the two of you were walking out together.

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. He walked you to your car, his presence steady and reassuring beside you.

“You know,” he said as you reached your door, his voice lower now, almost intimate, “you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt like he was seeing parts of you you’d tried to hide even from yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unsure how else to respond.

As you climbed into your car, you caught the way he looked at you through the window—like you were something precious, something he couldn’t quite have but desperately wanted.

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. And for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it might be like to let him have you.

The man couldn’t get you out of his head. You consumed him, haunted his thoughts, and stirred something primal in him. But there was one obstacle standing in his way: your sorry excuse of a boyfriend.

He watched from the shadows, studying the man who dared to hurt you. The bruises you tried to hide, the way your voice cracked when you spoke of him—it was enough to fuel The man’s resolve.

The next time he saw you at the bar, he smiled warmly and ordered you another drink. You didn’t notice the way his hand lingered over your glass for just a moment too long, or how the edges of your vision began to blur shortly after you finished it.

When you woke, you were in a dark room. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils, and the faint sound of classical music played from a record player in the corner.

Your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair, the rope biting into your skin. Across from you, your boyfriend sat in a similar chair, thrashing and screaming into the gag that muffled his words.

“What the hell—?” you began, your voice trembling.

“Good evening.”

The man stepped into view, his sharp grin cutting through the dim light. He was impeccably dressed, as always, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, panic rising in your chest.

“It’s simple,” he said, his tone calm. “You’re going to play a game.”

On the table between you and your boyfriend sat a revolver, its gleaming barrel a stark contrast to the grimy room.

“Russian roulette,” The man explained, picking up the gun and spinning the cylinder with practiced ease. “One of you walks out of here. The other… doesn’t.”

Your boyfriend screamed behind his gag, his eyes wild with terror. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No! I won’t do it!”

“Oh, but you will,” The man said, his smile never wavering. “Because you want to live. And deep down, a part of you wants him to pay for what he’s done to you.”

The man placed the revolver on the table, spinning the cylinder with a flick of his wrist. The ominous cl-click of the mechanism echoed in the room, setting your teeth on edge. He looked between you and your boyfriend, his grin widening as if he relished your fear.

“Let’s begin,” he said, picking up the gun. His movements were deliberate, almost casual, as if this were no more than a game of cards.

“You’re not rolling the barrel?” you questioned in shock, staring into his eyes, which seemed devoid of any emotion.

“What’s the fun in that?” he merely grinned, while adjusting his cufflinks.

He pointed the revolver at you first.

Click.

The sound was deafening, despite the empty chamber. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared down the barrel of the gun.

The man chuckled softly, as if entertained by the way your shoulders heaved with each shaky breath. “Nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

He turned the gun toward your boyfriend.

Click.

Your boyfriend thrashed in his chair, muffled cries spilling through the gag as he shook his head violently. You could feel his terror radiating across the small room, mingling with your own.

“I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a waste,” The man mused, spinning the cylinder again with deliberate slowness. The sound of the metal grinding against itself sent a chill through your entire body.

The gun swung back to you.

Click.

You flinched, tears spilling down your cheeks as your vision blurred. Your mind screamed at you to move, to do something, but you were frozen, your body paralyzed by fear.

The man hummed a classical tune softly under his breath, tapping the side of the gun like he was debating his next move. His eyes flicked between you and your boyfriend, finally landing on the latter.

“Let’s see if he’s feeling lucky.”

He raised the gun again, pointing it between your boyfriend’s wide, bloodshot eyes.

Click.

Your boyfriend screamed into the gag, thrashing so violently that the chair scraped against the floor. Sweat dripped down his face as his muffled cries turned into guttural, animalistic wails of desperation.

The man sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh, the suspense is killing me,” he said, the grin on his face making it clear that he was enjoying every second.

The revolver spun again, slower this time. You heard every metallic grind as it came to a stop, and your stomach lurched.

This time, the barrel swung back to you. The man pressed the gun against your cheek, the cold metal biting into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re terrified,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, like a lover’s confession.

Click.

You gasped audibly, your eyes darting to his. He stared back at you with a manic glint, his grin splitting wider as though your anguish was his favorite song.

Without warning, he turned the gun back to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend screamed, shaking his head violently, tears streaming down his face. He made a muffled plea through the gag, words you couldn’t make out but understood well enough: he was begging.

The man tilted his head, feigning consideration. “I wonder what your last thought is right now. Regret? Fear? Or maybe it’s anger… at yourself for being such a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the room, leaving your ears ringing. Blood sprayed across the table and onto your face in hot, sticky droplets. Your boyfriend’s head snapped back violently before slumping forward, the rope keeping his body upright as blood poured from the jagged hole in his forehead. His body twitched once, then fell still.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, burning into your nostrils. Your stomach churned as you stared at the lifeless shell of the man who had once called you his.

You should’ve felt horror, revulsion, or even guilt. But somewhere deep down, a small, twisted part of you felt… relief. Relief that it was finally over, that he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

The man stepped closer, crouching in front of you and gently brushing a blood-spattered lock of hair from your face. His touch was uncomfortably tender, a stark contrast to the carnage around you.

“You’re free now,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You stared at him in shock, your mind a haze of terror and conflicting emotions.

Before you could process what had happened, darkness crept in once more.

When you woke, it was to the dim light of dawn filtering through your curtains, casting soft, golden rays across your room. Everything felt disjointed—your body ached in places you couldn’t explain, and your mind was swimming in a haze of fragmented memories. For a few blissful seconds, you thought it was just a nightmare, a grotesque figment of your imagination brought on by too much alcohol and too little sleep.

But then you noticed the faint metallic scent still lingering in the air.

Sitting up, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were rumpled and clung uncomfortably to your skin, but it was the faint smudge of red near your collar that made your stomach drop. You didn’t want to believe it. You stumbled to your feet, each step heavy with dread as you made your way to the laundry hamper.

And there it was—a bloodstained shirt.

The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath hitching as the reality of it all came crashing down. It wasn’t a nightmare. It had happened. The screaming, the gunshots, the blood—it was all real.

You threw the shirt into the deepest corner of the hamper and slammed the lid shut, as though that could contain the memories clawing their way to the surface.

For days, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t function. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of it: his twisted grin, the spray of blood, your boyfriend’s lifeless body slumping forward. Guilt and relief warred within you, an impossible combination that left you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, you realized you had to do something. You couldn’t keep drowning in your own mind. So, you decided to rebuild.

You poured what little savings you had into opening a small bakery, a cozy place tucked into a quiet corner of town. It became your sanctuary, a space where you could channel your pain into something productive. Kneading dough, shaping pastries, and watching loaves rise in the oven—it was simple, grounding work that gave you a sense of control when everything else felt so chaotic.

The bakery quickly became a modest success. Locals loved the fresh bread and the warm, inviting atmosphere you worked so hard to create. For a while, you almost believed you could have a normal life again.

But then he walked in.

It was an ordinary afternoon. The scent of freshly baked sourdough filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the shop’s front windows, casting a warm glow across the wooden countertops. You were arranging a tray of croissants when the bell above the door jingled.

Looking up, your heart stopped.

There he was, standing in the doorway as if he belonged there, his sharp features and piercing eyes unmistakable. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, his suit perfectly tailored and his smile disarmingly casual.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, approaching the counter with an air of ease that made your skin crawl.

Your hands trembled as you wiped them on your apron, trying to steady yourself. “What… what are you doing here?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away, instead glancing around the shop with an almost appreciative expression. “Just passing through,” he said finally, as if that explained anything. He slid a few bills across the counter. “A few loaves of sourdough.”

Your fingers fumbled as you grabbed some fresh loaves and wrapped them in parchment paper, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You avoided his gaze, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

When you handed him the loaf, your hands brushed for the briefest moment, and you pulled back like you’d been burned. His smile widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone light and polite, as though this were just a normal interaction.

He turned and walked out without another word, the bell jingling softly in his wake.

As you closed shop for the evening, flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED," a deep sigh escaped your lips, the weight of the day melting off your shoulders. It had been one of those relentlessly busy days where time blurred—an endless parade of smiling customers asking for pastries, loaves, and the occasional custom order that had you juggling more than your two hands should allow. The familiar ache in your back and flour dusting your sleeves were reminders of how hard you’d worked. But as the quiet settled in, so did a sense of peace.

For once, your mind wasn’t completely consumed by thoughts of him. It was a rare reprieve, the memories and fears receding like the tide, leaving you with something close to calm. You held onto that feeling tightly, as though letting it slip away might invite the darkness back.

After locking the door and slipping the keys into your pocket, you stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring at the fading sunlight painting the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink. The thought of going straight home to your empty apartment felt suffocating—too quiet, too lonely, too much room for your thoughts to spiral.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and distant flowers, and an idea bloomed in your mind. The park. It had been weeks since you’d allowed yourself the luxury of just… being. You needed the fresh air, the open space, the sounds of the world moving on around you. Maybe, just for a little while, you could convince yourself that everything was normal.

And then you saw him.

He stood on the sidewalk, holding the bread that he had bought from you for a moment before deliberately letting them fall to the ground. Then, with calculated cruelty, he ground it under his heel, the parchment paper tearing and the loaves crumbling into pieces. A group of homeless people nearby looked on, their gazes hungry and desperate, but he didn’t so much as glance at them.

Instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

That grin spread across his face again, wide and manic, his teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t a smile of kindness or humor—it was a promise. A reminder.

Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, your breathing ragged. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the message was clear: you weren’t free of him.

Not yet.

That night, you awoke with a start, your senses assaulted by the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements hypnotic and eerie, the faint scent of wax and smoke filling the air. Your heart pounded as you realized you weren’t in your bed. The room was unfamiliar—opulent, in a hauntingly old-fashioned way. The furniture was dark wood, the drapes heavy and velvet, the atmosphere suffocatingly intimate.

And then you saw him.

He was standing over you, his silhouette bathed in the golden light of the candles. His suit was pristine as always, his tie slightly loosened, and his sharp features softened just enough to be disarming. But it was his eyes that held you captive, their intensity pinning you in place like prey caught in a predator’s gaze.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a dangerous edge of satisfaction. He crouched beside the bed, his movements deliberate and smooth, his presence overwhelming. “Good. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the best part.”

Your breath hitched as his hand came up to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt utterly at odds with the situation. His touch was cold, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help but flinch.

“You can’t run from me,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an unyielding certainty. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But you belong to me, and it’s time you understood that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how powerless you were under his gaze. His thumb brushed a tear away, his touch almost reverent, and he smiled—a soft, bittersweet smile that only made you feel more trapped.

“I adore you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Every moment, every thought, it’s all been for you. Don’t you see? I’ve done everything for you. And now, you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, and all-consuming, like he was trying to claim every part of you at once. His hands cradled your face, his grip firm but not painful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

You hated yourself for it, but you kissed him back. Your body betrayed you, a spark igniting deep within you that you couldn’t extinguish. His passion was intoxicating, pulling you under like a riptide, and for a moment, you forgot everything else—your fear, your anger, your confusion.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was hot against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with conviction. “Forever.”

His words sent a chill through you, not because you doubted him, but because you believed him. There was no escaping him—not his obsession, not his control, not the twisted connection that bound you to him.

Deep down, in the parts of yourself you didn’t want to acknowledge, you knew he was right.

His hands slowly trailed down to the hem of your pants, tugging them off. The cool breeze hit your thighs, forming goosebumps along the soft skin– making you shiver with a mix of delight and fear.

He pressed forehead, slowly inching down to your lips, pulling you in once more, as he lifted you in his arms completely.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he cooed whilst sliding your boxers down, revealing your throbbing erection.

You whimpered at the praise as he brought his hand to your chin to make you face him. His eyes– which previously felt devoid of having any human emotion, were now different. You couldn’t place exactly what it was.

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, one of his fingers prodded at your exposed hole, wet with lube. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, only to be silenced with another kiss.

He slowly pushed his finger in, followed by another, and then another. Three digits were slowly pumping in and out of you, as you held on to the man’s already crumpled shirt for some sense of balance.

When he deemed that you had been prepped enough, he slowly removed his fingers, and replaced them with his hardened length (you hadn't noticed him taking his pants off–oh well).

He pushed the tip in, making you throw your head back, and an almost pornographic moan leaving your lips.

The man let out a low groan,you were so tight that it seemed like your hole was sucking him in. When he bottomed out, you took few deeps breaths, but before you could say anything, he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in.

Your eyes went to the back of your head, jaw going slack. His hands were holding your legs up in such an angle that he was hitting your prostate with every single thrust.

Your hole clenched around his length, almost making it hard for him to move– but he seemed to manage. He fucked into with reckless abandon, marvelling at your pretty sounds– they were angelic to his ears.

Soon, you felt your orgasm consuming you like a raging waterfall; but the man wasn’t finished. He rammed into you even harder than before, the overstimulation making your brain go fuzzy.

Eventually, his thrusts stuttered, and he spilled his load into you– painting your insides a pearlescent white.

You huffed, feeling filled to the brim as he slowly placed you back onto the bed. The exhaustion made sleep consume you once more.

“You’re mine now, little dove– and I’m never letting you go.”

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮; 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: some punishment for bratting, hints of jealous!brat!reader, confessions, full Nelson, praise/degradation, control orgasm, creampie, Satoru doesn't last long once he feels you, cream pie, hints of pussy drunk Satoru, overstimulation, choking, manhandling, light size kink, light begging

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Imagine you’re being a brat and to punish you gojo turns on infinity so you can’t touch him and you HATE it. He’s driving you insane and you can’t even touch him..oof

Oreo: I'm sorry this took forever 😓, I'm so glad I got to it, it was so much fun to write thank you for this wonderful prompt lovely anon

You’re full of Satoru’s long cock, gliding your sloppy cunt on him. Your sensitive clit rubbing the skin above his cock. “Please I wanna feel your warm cock, I miss feeling your head rub deep in my cunt.” Your cunt spasms, clenching his cock, your thick cum trickling down his balls.

He won’t cum, unable to get close due to not being able to feel your soft cunt gliding on his cock. With his arms crossed behind his head, and a large smirk on his face, he doesn’t seem to be bothered.

Leaning forward, hands above his chest. You want to feel his thick pecs, glide your fingers along the hard line of his abs. “It’s been an hour! My knees and legs are hurting! Please! I can’t keep going!” Pausing with his hard cock stuffed in your sore cunt.

Your knees throbbing, thighs trembling. “I wanna make you cum! Wanna feel your puffy veins pulse right before you do. Please I’m sorry for getting jealous, I wanted all of your attention!” It’s not fair not being able to touch your beautiful Satoru.

Sliding your hand down his bare sculpted chest admiring him. “I know you’re an attention-needy brat no matter how much I give you you’ll always want more.” He grabs your hips, without actually touching you. “That’s what I love about you, you and your greedy cunt can keep up with me.”

Looking away your cheeks burn, “I love you too, I’m worried you’ll tire of me.” Satoru slowly gliding you off his cock, standing up turning you around with ease. Reaching back, the infinity vanishes allowing you to slide your fingers through his undercut over his blind fold. Grabbing a fistful of his fluffy, soft hair.

His chest warm pressed to your back, lining up his cock. You moan in relief, the warmth and softness of his cock head stroking your cunt. “Whose are you?” Nudging in just the tip, holding your there. After being denied so long it’s not enough.

Wiggling your hips, you can't slip anymore of him inside. He hooks your legs over his arms, firmly clasping his hands around your neck. “I’m yours! I'm all yours! I’m a greedy jealous slut who wants you all to myself. I can’t get enough please! Please fuck me!” Moaning, biting your bottom lip, curling your toes.

Satoru feels better than anything else could. His large warm hands around your neck, the weightless feeling of held up and mercilessly fucked. You cry, tensing up when he hits your cervix.

It’s a strange, overwhelming intense almost painful sensation that becomes better with ease hit. Satoru ruts his hips up to meet your hips when he forces you down on his long, being cock. “That’s it!” Satoru’s breathy moans are beautiful, your cunt clenching his veiny cock.

He croons, “That was a punishment for me too not being able to feel ya sweet cunt. Missed it so much, I'll stop her from flirting, make it clear that I'm lucky to be yours.” Fucking your sloppy cunt faster, stroking your sweet spot, bruising your soft cervix. Making it hard to think.

“Whose am I?” His words fall of deaf ears, whining, cuming, squeezing Satoru. The thick veins on his cock pulse, his head nudges deep inside and you feel warm thick cum spurting out.

Refusing to stop, unable to get enough of your tight, squelching cunt. “You’re mine! My Toru! My handsome sugarbear! Please! That it! Right there please, your cock feels so good.” He squeezes your neck.

Your sloppy wet cunt gripping him just right, keeping his sensitive cock hard. “All yours sweetheart, fuck, I don't want anyone else but you beautiful. Your slutty little cunt is perfect, the way you say my name, how you welcome me home, fuck I love getting your texts throughout the day. Nnn if I saw someone else flirting with you, I'd been making you scream my name till your voice goes out.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

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anundyingfidelity · 3 months ago

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CLAWS & SHIELD — Wolverine, Soldier Boy

Summary: Logan, Ben, and you sharing a motel room. That's it, that's the fic.

Pairing: Logan x fem reader x Ben.

Warnings: pwp smut, threesome, unprotected everything, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, cum play, cream pie, facial, mentions of marking, dirty talking, pet names, sub!reader, female pronouns.

Notes: I know no one asked but here you have because I can't stop thinking about them sharing like the good assholes they are. Soldier Boy and Wolverine are their own warnings in general so😫

GEN MASTERLIST!

“I- I’ve never done this before,” you gasp, hands and knees on the ground as Soldier Boy sits at the edge of the mattress with your head between his thighs. The tip of his cock is red and he’s aching to be sucked, and you want to. Fuck, how much you want to, but you feel kinda anxious as the mutant pulls your hips towards his own.

His cock is also hard, veiny and throbbing already to feel your walls wrap around him. You whine when he teases your entrance with his dick, covering himself with your slick and you moan. Logan takes a messy grip of your hair and rubs his cock once, twice, before his tip buries inside your needy cunt.

“Oh, but how you’re enjoying it,” Logan remarks with a dark chuckle, followed by the supe, who wipes your mouth with his thumb.

And you suck on his digit, swollen lips wrapped around him as if your life depends on it.

“Dirty little slut, can’t wait to be filled up, can you?” Soldier Boy teases as Logan pounds mercilessly into your aching pussy. You whine at the feel of the mutant gripping on your hips now, sure it’d leave more marks into your skin by tomorrow.

Your knees already hurt, your palms are bruising on the carpet of the dirty motel room. It was true, you never had been in this situation before. But being shared by these two piles of muscles and strength, manhandling you around and ordering you to take what they could give to you was more than you ever dreamt of.

Soldier Boy pulls his thumb away from your mouth, and takes your jaw with his fingers.

“Open,” he orders and you obey, sticking your tongue out, fucked out already as Logan continues his rut from behind you.

He spits on your mouth and you flinch a little, but he doesn’t hold back, instead guides his cock between your lips and you happily take him, humming and gagging at how far he had reached inside in just a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Soldier Boy moans, watching his cock disappear into your mouth.

“She’s fucking close,” Logan warns, the rhythm of his thrusts increasing by the moment, and he grabs your ass cheeks, spreading them to see right in the spot where you two connect as he keeps fucking you to bliss. He hisses at the view of his cock sliding out, covered in the wetness of your abused cunt. “God, that’s a perfect pussy right there, look at you…”

Logan hits your sweet spot and you moan and cry around Ben’s cock, the soldier never giving you the easy time. He fucks your throat hard, as if he was on a competition with the other man fucking your cunt right now, and you do your best to suck on his cock, tongue tracing his veins and your throat creating a wet cave for him to use.

With a hand, Soldier Boy grabs onto your hair and guides your pace to a more brutal one, feeling himself close.

“Keep sucking me off, sweetcheeks,” he groans, thrusting up his hips until your nose meets his pelvis.

You blurt incoherences, pussy clenching around Logan’s cock, and god, does it feel so damn good to you, being filled by both men at the same time, used for their pleasure and however they want… If this was heaven you wouldn’t want to leave the room ever.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Soldier Boy grunts and quickly pulls out of your mouth. He is jerking himself and holding your pretty, fucked out face with the other hand.

“Open for me, yeah, that’s it,” he praises and he finally cums, white ropes painting your cheeks as you hold your tongue out, his hot cum all over your nose, lips and cheeks.

“Keep her there, I’m gonna fill her up real good,” Logan darkly whispers and is no longer for him to get there, when he empties inside your needy cunt balls deep with a beautiful moan of his. Though, he already has come, the stamina and strength is enough to keep fucking his seed into you and a chain of moans and pleas leave your lips and sore throat.

“Fuck, yes! Right there, that’s the spot, please keep fucking me-”

His orgasm triggers your own climax and you finally come, crying so loud and milking his cock as he thrusts to meet your hips.

Soldier Boy wipes the cum off your face before offering his fingers coated and forcing them into your mouth. You lick them obediently, longing eyes on him.

“Fuck, best pussy I ever had,” Logan praises and he finally stops, lazy and sloppy hips against your ass.

“And wait when you have her ass,” Soldier Boy smirks, you moan unwittingly at the thought. “Hole is even better.”

Logan groans and he feels himself getting hard again, pulling out of your cunt, seed leaking out and rolling down your thighs. He plays with your sensitive folds and clit with calloused fingers.

“Yeah, well, I’m ready for round two,” Logan says, leaning towards you, his strong chest pressing against your back. “Bub here as well. But are you ready, baby?” he whispers over your ear.

You shiver at the thought, and you know they know you want it bad. It’s become a need at this point. Their high senses tells you they fucking know, and they enjoy having this control over you.

“Whatever you want,” you respond, holding the soldier’s lustful stare as you try to catch your breath.

Soldier Boy smirks and Logan chuckles on your back. He roams his hand over your breasts, kissing your shoulder, his beard leaving a sweet burn on you. Their dicks are already hard, and oh, you know you’re so fucked in the best way you could dream of.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfiction #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x female reader #logan howlett x female reader #the boys fanfiction #x men wolverine #x men logan #hugh jackman fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction

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bloodsuckingfiends · 11 months ago

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Need

Summary: Astarion is desperate and needy, Tav takes care of him

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (gn!reader)

Warnings: nsfw, subby! Top Astarion, nipple play (male receiving), begging, praise, cream pie (so breeding if you squint)

Word count: 800

A/N: If this is in anyway awful, I blame it on the wine I drank while writing it.

It only really occurred when he was stressed, whether it be about the tadpoles, or Cazador, didn’t matter. He never explicitly verbalized it, but you had your suspicions that it came from the need to feel taken care of whilst still having some semblance of control in the matter. So after a long and arduous day of following dead end leads, that were supposed to be the answer towards everyone’s parasite, Astarion seeks out relief in the way that he’s rediscovering for himself. Which has led the two of you to seek each other’s comfort in the reprieve of his tent.

Your hands brush up his sides, pushing his ruffled shirt up and over his head, fingertips trailing back down his rib cage, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he discards it to the side. Astarion leans forward, guiding you to lay down on his bedroll, barely breaking the kiss that he had initiated. He needs this, his body craves it. To feel taken care of. To feel mindless, free to not think about the stress that paints each passing day of their lives as of late.

He sighs into your mouth, tongue curling around yours, wet and desperately searching. Searching for the heavenly distraction that is needing you. There’s the momentary press of his knee forwards, making space for him to kneel between your awaiting thighs. Your fingers delicately trail back up his sides before venturing across his chest, gently brushing against his nipples which earns a whine from the back of his throat and a cant of his hips against your own.

“You like that, huh?” you murmur against his plush, kiss-swollen lips.

He nods fervently, eyes fluttering shut as you continue to toy with him, gently pinching the buds between thumb and forefinger.

“Use your words, Star.” It’s no secret that this turns Astarion into a puddle before you even think about touching him anywhere else, and it nearly makes his heart beat again when you actively keep him present in the moment. That you make sure he voices what he wants in all of this.

He swallows, words barely making it past his lips before he moans, “Mmhm. Yes, I like it.” His brain is mush already, overwhelmed by your hands touching him so gently, and his painfully hard cock pressing against the confines of his trousers. You realize that the usually boisterous elf seems almost… shy. His cheeks and the tips of his ears ruddy with the blood he supped on earlier from you.

He drops his face to the crook of your neck, soft kisses press to your skin, just below the clotted punctures and faint bruise that he left earlier. He quietly huffs against your neck, mindlessly rutting his hips against the apex of your thighs.

“Tell me what it is that you want, my love.” Your voice croons against the shell of his flushed ear, fingers running through his soft curls.

”Please- need to be inside you.” He thrusts forwards, mindlessly seeking pressure against his arousal. Gods is he desperate, his voice on the verge of whiny.

“Take what you need.”

In an almost frantic state, Astarion strips the rest of your clothing off before discarding his trousers and undergarments. The moment his cock nudges against your entrance, he’s biting his bottom lip, stifling the sounds threatening to spill past his lips. He leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, face against the juncture of your shoulder and neck as he breaches your entrance, a soft sigh meeting your flesh. He almost loses himself, completely overwhelmed by finally filling you. Your very essence completely envelopes him, legs wrapping around his waist, one arm around his shoulders, and the other hand gently holding his head close.

Always making sure he knows, ”You’re so good to me Star.”

He whimpers, hips picking up and thrusting into you. One of his hands moves to grip one of your thighs, pushing it towards your chest to get impossibly deeper. All he feels is you, and all he wants is for you to only feel him too.

“Please- please let me come.” He pants, “Wanna fill you so bad.”

“Come for me, love.” You press a kiss against his temple.

A string of soft moans and whines leave him, and his flushed ears twitch as he empties himself deep inside, hips pressing tightly against yours so he reaches as deep as possible.

As he comes down from his high, he pulls out and rolls to the side, laying his head against your chest, “You didn’t come.” He states.

”Tonight was about you.” You tell him, fingers mindlessly dancing across his shoulders, soothing him further. All he deserved was to be taken care of

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion x tav smut #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader smut #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav

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deepestnightcolor · 10 months ago

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☾ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: HERE I AM WITH ANOTHER SAM SMUT! I seriously don't know what happened here, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Just a small disclaimer: don't go around hitting people, kids. Use your big words for big emotions!

Thank you for your time and all your love!~

PS: bonus points to whoever finds the tiny easter egg.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x afab!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4045 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: weird, drunk guy hitting on the reader. Sam getting protective and physical. Guard dog Sammy. Mentions of blood, the taste of blood, and bruises.

Cowgirl position, making love bites, dirty talk, cream pie, Sam is a little obsessed in his fuck-drunken mind, cock-piercing, pierced tongue.

Believing in Sam had always come naturally to you. The moment he showed you his guitar and the way he could handle it, you knew he had potential. That is why you never minded coming to his band practice; you enjoyed cheering him on, giving his cheek a kiss after each session and smiling at him, praising him in a gentle voice.

Sam loved having you as an audience. Everything about you made him want to be better. He taught himself your favourite songs, just so he was able to see your face light up when you recognized the melody. Sharing his passion with you was easier for him than with anyone else. At first, he had thought your personality was the reason for that, but when you kissed his cheek after one of his practices and the first thing he had felt was the wish that you would kiss his lips instead, he began to consider that there perhaps was more than just the trust he showed you.

After all, whenever Sam had doubts, he would come to you.

Whenever he didn’t know what to play, he would come to you.

Whenever he felt like he had to show someone a new song he taught himself, he would come to you.

That is why no one was surprised that he would come to you once his band had landed its first gig in Zuzu City. Blue eyes glistening with excitement, his whole body trembling while he tried to refrain from jumping up and down as he relayed the news. You laughed with him, hugging the blond tightly to your chest. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” you told him. And he believed it.

That was also the reason you stood in front of a stage in Zuzu city, wearing your most adorable outfit you knew was one of Sam’s favourites, given the way his gaze lingered whenever you had it on. In fact, he had given you the expected reaction when you had stepped up to the bus; first squishing you to his toned chest, just to stare once you had pulled away. His voice had been hoarse as he complimented you, telling you that you were an absolute beauty tonight. You had smiled at him, your fingers running through your hair as you leaned towards his ear just to whisper some words that would spin around Sam’s head for the whole ride. “You look deliciously hot as well, Sammy.”

Deliciously hot, huh? He had never heard you call anyone else like that. Did that mean something? That was entirely possible, wasn’t it?

The way you stared up at him while he was on stage definitely made him wonder. But he was not innocent, either, because he stared right back. Each song he announced, he announced for you. Each special solo was dedicated to you. Each look with hooded “fuck me”-eyes that seemingly danced over the crowd was dedicated to you. To Sam, this whole fucking show was for you. And you drank it all up.

In fact, you were enthralled enough you didn’t even notice the guy who pushed up to you as Sam thanked the crowd. All that mattered was Sam, and his voice whispering a good night to the crowd. His blue eyes landed on you again, and you took the chance to smile at him, blowing him a kiss.

“You alone here?” a voice next to you suddenly slurred over the noise of the crowd, which meant that its owner must have been incredibly close. You turned your head slowly, meeting a guy’s face. He seemed drunk already, and the grin he gave you certainly wasn’t one of good intentions. You cleared your throat and took a step back, scratching your neck. “No, no really.”

“Huh, that’s smart for a pretty girl like you.”

You gave an awkward smile, not wanting to tempt the stranger into attempting any further conversation as you turned around, trying to make your way to the bar. You had exchanged two sentences, and you were already desperate to escape the situation.

You were able to make it to the bar and ordered a drink that you could down before finding Sam, when suddenly, a hand landed on your hip, using the leverage to spin you around. A gasp left your lips, your muscles tensing when you saw the drunken man again.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you. Somebody should teach you manners.”

You grit your teeth, trying to squirm free of his grasp. His hands were sweaty and felt uncomfortable – disgusting - even through the fabric of your clothes.

You had never been in a situation like this, not in all the years you had lived in Zuzu. Your eyes trailed to the stage automatically, trying to make out the blond hair. Maybe he would catch your gaze and-

“I am talking to you,” the voice snarled, making your attention snap back to him. His hand was still on you, and you wanted to get it away from you.

“Fuck off,” you hissed, squirming again and finally being able to get rid of his hand.

“That is no way to talk to someone. Especially for a pretty girl like you. Maybe I should take you home and-“

“Didn’t you fucking hear? She told you to fuck off.” A familiar voice, a voice that felt safe. Sam had emerged from the crowd, pushing past the guy to stand next to you.

“And who are you?”

“Her fucking boyfriend. Also telling you to fuck. Off.”

One of the blond’s arms was quick to snake around your waist, pulling you into his side with a quick tug. Again, a hand was on your hip, but this time you felt much more comfortable. Much better.

The happy glint that had been in his eyes while he was on stage had vanished and was replaced by something dark. Something you had never seen cloud those pretty blue eyes before. It almost seemed possessive.

The stranger cleared his throat, and for a moment, it seemed like he would retreat without any other word.

But then, everything went down fast.

“Fine. No one wants a cheap slut like you, anyways.” The drunk man hadn’t even finished spitting on the ground in front of his feet before a fist connected with his jaw. Sam, the man who played the SpongeBob theme song when bored and loved the minions had thrown the first punch, and a good one at that. The sheer power behind it made his opponent stumble backward, the blond using the opportunity to now step in front of you.

“Don’t. You. Call. Her. That!” he growled, his fist already lifted for the next hit. The guy, despite the level of alcohol that he probably had in his system, was fast, though. He shot back up and allowed his knuckles to meet Sam’s face, but his aim was off. His head knocked with a light cracking sound to the side. You let out a loud gasp, and desperately tugged on the man’s shirt, trying to get him away from your harasser. “Sam. Come on. Let’s go.”

But Sam had started something. And he would finish it. You were absolutely shocked as he aggressively shoved the guy, who now had blood on his knuckle. He used the distraction he had created to hit his face again, this time sending him to the ground with a grunting sound. Trying to defend himself while falling he scratched Sam, but it seemed the guitarist didn’t even mind. Instead, he straddled him and gripped him by the collar of his shirt, staring right into his eyes.

“Never. And I mean fucking never touch her again. I will find you. I will break your hands and shove them so far down your throat they will come out of your ass again.”

“Sam!” You cried, which finally got his attention. He let go of the shirt, dropping him in his own spit, giving the pathetic figure a snarl. Without another word, Sam gently took your wrist, leading you toward the backstage area where he had gotten ready. Once he finally turned around to settle you on one of the chairs, knelt down in front of you to make sure you were okay, you could see what the impact had done to him. His carefully styled hair was a mess; there were scratches on his cheek, and his pretty pink lips were busted open. You found it pretty unfair that he had just gotten into a fight and still looked hot. Maybe even hotter.

“Are you okay? What a disgusting-“

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips. They were so pretty. And he had gone all out just to protect you. You just had to kiss him, didn’t you?

You couldn’t resist anymore, your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulled him in. The blond winced at the sting when your lips collided, but by Yoba, did your hands feel good against the heated-up skin of his neck. He would have been stupid if he hadn’t kissed back; and who was he to deny your tongue entrance to his mouth, anyway?

It would have been a shame if he didn’t suck on your tongue like a desperate man, and fuck did your lips taste good.

Blood and saliva mixed together, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you let your hands trace through his hair, giving a few blond strands a soft tug. Sam grunted, getting on his long legs without breaking the kiss, allowing himself to drop down on the sofa while pulling you towards him. You took the chance and straddled him, only pulling away to kiss down his jawline.

“You know how long I have wanted to kiss you?” The guitarist murmured, allowing his head to dip to the side to give you more access. “Ever since you first played that stupid song to annoy Sebastian and Abigail,” you answered bluntly, kissing down his neck. You knew Sam’s face would bruise up tomorrow, so what were a few more? You wanted this fucking man.

Fangs sinking in the flesh of his neck, you sucked on the newfound redness, shiver running down your spine when you heard the deep groan rumble through his chest. Feeling you react to the sound he made gave him a sudden boost of confidence, large hands trailing down your back just to grip the flesh of your ass with both of his hands. He gave it a good squeeze, not being able to help himself but moan. You felt so good already, and you weren’t even undressed.Yet.

“Sam…I…Fuck, I want you.”

That certainly was an understatement by now. You needed Sam. Given the pulsing you felt beneath you, you were pretty sure you would get what you needed, though.

His fingers were now clawing at your butt as he pulled you in closer, his busted lips smashing into yours again. This time he didn’t even flinch at the feeling; this time he was nothing short of greedy. Shoving his tongue past your pearly whites, he explored your mouth, trying to get to taste more of you. You moaned for him when he sucked on your tongue again, his piercing rubbing against the muscle. The heat that had begun pooling between your legs made you shift around his lap, only to be rewarded by the blond bucking up his hips in an attempt to chase the feeling. Both of you moaned into one another’s mouths, and you were sure you had never craved something this much in life. Sam’s hands had left your butt now, fingers working on unbuttoning your pants. His fingers were skilled, so the small button keeping the shorts together definitely wasn’t much of an obstacle. In fact, you could feel his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties faster than you could blink. Not that you minded. Quite the opposite; while still enjoying Sam’s tongue dominating yours, you lifted your hips so he could pull down the fabric that separated his slender fingers from your heat.

“That’s a good girl,” Sam cooed in your mouth, making you moan quietly. How could a man have you so wrapped around his finger without even touching your pussy yet?

That quickly changed when the calloused pad of his index finger found your clit, gently nudging the hardening bundle of nerves. “So wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your brain not able to produce words that would even come close to explaining that he would be able to make you just as wet by only getting naked.

Your hips rutted against his finger, and in turn, his hardening cock. The blond sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the need to get you naked and feel you against, scratch that, around his drooling dick growing in the pit of his stomach. But Sam, ever the gentleman, instead allowed his finger to slip through your folds, circling your needy little entrance with ease before dipping in just the tip.

Your reaction was immediate. You arched in your back and tried to press down your hips to coax him in a little more, but Sam, staring at you in absolute awe, removed his finger whenever you attempted. How could one person be so hot? How the hell could he have gone so long without touching you?

“Sam, please. Give me something,” you begged, licking your lips as you looked down at him. Sam, giving you a toothy grin, finally gave in and pushed a single finger inside of you, enjoying your lip being dragged in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning his name out loud. His finger thrusted up inside of you, and just to give you a better idea of what was awaiting you he bucked up his hips.

The blond took his time, only adding a second finger after you begged him to, scissoring them within you to coax out more of the moans that sounded like music to his ear. He himself had to dig the nails of his other hand inside of the couch to ground himself enough as to not whimper and moan just from touching you. However, when your hands set into motion to remove your shirt and bra, allowing those fucking pretty tits to bounce free, it was game over. A low moan left his swollen lips as he stared at your chest, shamelessly ogling them. You could have sworn you saw his tongue loll out of his mouth, some drool dripping from the muscle, but a third finger stretching your drooling cunt distracted you.

“Sam, please. Can I ride you? Pretty please.”

He was dreaming, probably. Or he had smoked too much weed and was imagining this; how else could this be happening? But your hips rutting against his fingers that were coated in your slick were telling a different story. And even if all of this wasn’t real, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

“Sam? Please, baby. Please let me ride this cock…Fuck, you are so hard already. I can feel it through your pants…”

The whine that left you when he removed his fingers from you absolutely tore his heart into shreds, but he needed to free his dick. Otherwise, it would have ripped his pants apart, given that pretty begs that left your sweet mouth oh so easily.

He shifted you around in his lap, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough for his erection to spring free. The skin was hot, and you just had to gawk at him. Sam was big and girthy. And at that-

“You got your dick pierced?” You whispered, but it pretty much sounded like a whimpered moan. The blond grinned a little, tongue trailing over his teeth.

“Mhhhm…You like it?”

Fuck. You could have had an orgasm on the spot, by doing nothing else but imagining the pierced tip to bully into you.

Sam opened his mouth to tease you just a little more when he suddenly felt your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding his drooling tip to your entrance. He was absolutely hypnotized, watching his tip kiss your sloppy hole and the way your thighs twitched. “Fuuuuck…” he breathed as you allowed the tip to enter you. You were insanely wet, and your cunt greeted him with another gush of juices.

The blond decided he could have died right then and there and his life would have been complete; that was at least what he thought until you pushed and pushed and pushed. He just couldn’t take his eyes away from his dick vanishing in your desperate pussy, centimetre by centimetre. His mouth was hanging open, and now you definitely could see his tongue hanging out, his chest heaving and falling quickly as the man who had fearlessly thrown punches before was now whimpering for you.

You yourself weren’t in much better shape.

The metal pushing against your wall the more you sat down on him; his sheer length splitting you open, it all had you a babbling mess. Telling him how good he felt, how big he was, how much you had wanted this. Sam’s hands were pawing at your hips, visibly straining himself from not just fucking into you, fucking everything he couldn’t say right up your cunt. But you needed a moment, he knew by the way your walls clung to him, the way you shifted around. You were so fucking precious, and he wanted you to know. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking onto your skin once he found your collarbones. His finger had taken its place on your clit again, flicking the bud gently as his blue eyes peered at you again. His eyes had the same look in them as they had before, just this time they were also filled with silent worship. This look alone gave you to strength to lift your hips, just to drop them down, allowing him to bottom out inside of you again. The two of you moaned in unison, and for some reason, you couldn’t imagine a life without this dick anymore.

Your hips rutted back and forth as your lips found Sam’s again, the kiss you shared desperate and wet. But neither of you cared as moans spilled from your connected lips. His pre-cum was mixing with your wetness, causing sloppy sounds whenever your walls completely wrapped around him. “You are so fucking pretty on my cock like this, baby. Does it feel good, huh? Like me filling you up? Like bein’ my good girl?”

You wanted to answer, you really did. But your open mouth only let moans of his name pass, so you resorted to a quick nod. You placed your hands on his arms, nails digging into the flesh as waves of pleasure hit you with every single movement of your hips.

“S…Sam,” you rambled, head thrown back. You started to full on bounce on his lap again, your tilted back position allowing him a full view of those jumping tits of yours. They were simply too hard to resist; his head dipped down and placed kisses all over the heated-up skin until his lips finally caught on of your nipples. He eagerly sucked on it, his hand carefully squeezing the other. Couldn’t let one of these pretty tits go without attention now, could he?

The breathless moan that entered his ears stimulated his brain in a way he couldn’t describe. Something feral was awoken within him; the events of the night flashing in front of his inner eye. You were his now, right? His pretty girl, and he needed to show you just that. His hips snapped up quite automatically, while his mouth switched to the other nipple. His finger was still massaging circles into your clit, making your vision go blurry.

Sam and you hadn’t ever done as much as hug, and still, he knew exactly how to touch you. Your nails this time found his chest through his shirt as you tried to keep up with the fast pace he had immediately picked up, your whole body bouncing with his tip bullying up into you whenever you sat down on him. His piercing was rubbing against your walls, massaging them just like they were sucking off his dick. You were pretty sure you had never been this wet before, and you were even more sure that Sam’s crotch was drenched by now.

Sam apparently tried to break you apart as his hips kept snapping up at a rough pace, neither caring about the droplets of wetness falling from your cunt, nor about the way he was whimpering and begging for you with his voice.

The sounds that his vocal chords produced became more high-pitched as his dick twitched and pulsed inside of you. His cock abused your cunt, and you were all for it. Honestly, you would have cried if he wasn’t fucking you like his name was written all over you.

Your orgasm was nearing, you could feel it tickling every nerve of your body, giving you the feeling you had to pull away. But he just felt so perfect. So right.

Trying to voice your nearing orgasm was definitely harder than you had expected. All that you could come up with was his name again. Your tongue felt heavy, like you were drunk. And in some way, you were. Drunk on his dick, his smell, the feeling of his tongue and mouth messing with your tits, him.

Sam didn’t feel much different. He could have sworn that he was about to burst at the seams. You felt heavenly, delicate, and yet like you needed to be pounded into oblivion. He just couldn’t get enough of your tits in his face, of the way you sounded. You were his favourite song now.

“Gonna cum, princess,” he breathed in the valley of your breasts, holding onto your waist to help you pick up your pace. You were sobbing his name as you felt your orgasm tearing at your insides. You wanted to warn him, you really did, but the cry that left you reached your tongue faster than any words – it was unholy. Lewd, and desperate, full of arousal as your orgasm made your body quake.

Your body was shaking on him, the release you felt paralyzing you, and yet it only turned Sam on more. His hips fucked into you ruthlessly, metal of his cock piercing bumping along you as his tip kissed your cervix.

“FUCK!” He snapped, teeth sinking into your tit as a violent orgasm made his cock twitch, spurts of cum painting your walls white.

But that wasn’t enough for Sam. He needed it deeper. He needed you to feel it on your way home. In bed. With heavy breathing, he put his feet on the couch and while holding you down, fucked up into you.

Strained sobs left your lips as your sensitive cunt was abused so mercilessly, but those whimpers that filled the room and came from those beautiful lips; they almost made you beg for more.

The blond only stopped when his hands on your waist began to shake, just like his legs. His thrusts became sloppy and less precise, hips stuttering and losing force until they completely halted. The two of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder while his arms held you close and secure.

It took you several moments before you shared a silent gaze, your lips meeting in another kiss. This one was much slower, sweeter, even. You still could taste the blood on his tongue, and you still didn’t mind.

When you pulled away, you could see that Sam looked even more beaten now. The scratches had swollen just like his lips, and a bruise was starting to form on his jaw. His neck just looked as bad; love bites scattered all around the pale skin.

The blond’s hand reached out to gently tuck a strand of your hair back, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

You gave a shy smile back, sighing slowly.

“You shouldn’t have fought with someone because of me.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“For you? I’d happily get beat to smithereens.”

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