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screampied · 8 months

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❛ THREE’S A CROWD! ❜

↻ feat. satosugu, shiu. toji. nanami. higuruma.

total wc. 2.5k

warnings. fem! reader, 3somes, double penetration, praise kink, choking, toji’s (still) broke, degradation, unprotected s*x, spanking, oral, manhandling, riding higuruma’s nose, hair pulling.

☆ GOJO & GETO.

“…suguru, ‘s no fairrr,” gojo groans. a soft pout tugs against his lips as he watches him have his way with you—you’re happily on your knees, taking geto into your mouth and gojo’s so jealous. it took everything within him to not stroke himself. you however, you looked so pretty. your head bobbles up and down, glistening sheeny strings of your own saliva racing down your chin and geto gives you a rough head pat. “i don’t wanna watch. i wanna fuck her too.”

“then get over here, idiot.” geto grunts, bringing a thumb towards the bottom of your chin. the eye contact the both of you made was forever intimate and sensual. dark pools of eyes stared you down to where you’re pulsing between your plush thighs.

gojo drags his feet towards the two of you before prying you off of geto’s dick, only to then sprawl you on the cushioned mattress. “gimme some attention too. not this bozo.”

“satoru, please be serious. you can barely even last five minutes.”

you sneak out a giggle and gojo grows hot, entirely flustered. he turns you over to where you’re propped up on your stomach and he gives his best friend an aggravated glare, “s-shut up.”

“make me.” geto raises a brow. these two…

“careful with him, pretty girl. poor guy’s super sensitive down there.” geto chuckles, glancing down at you as you faced away, back perfectly arched for him.

gojo’s in front of you—you’re eagerly leaning in to slide your tongue playfully against his fat swollen tip, smothered with droplets of precum.

gojo lets off a moan, hesitatingly bringing a hand towards the crown of your head whilst geto realigns himself again.

“hey, jus’ ignore him,” he clears his throat, making you dart your eyes all back up at him. “he’s always tryin' to p-piss me off,” he nervously chuckles, taking a moment to swallow. “f-fuck, you really do have a good tongue, princess.”

with fluttering eyes, you swirled the tip of your tongue against the very frenulum part of his dick. his most sensitive spot. now that snatched a whine from his throat.

“see,” geto snickers, and that’s when you suppress an incoming moan, feeling geto’s stocky fingers ghost against your waist. he’s halfway in and he’s so thick, inches after inches your mouth opened and parted just from his size. “he’s a big crybaby.”

the two of them bickered so much, even as a intimate moment such as this. by all means it was annoying, yet you were getting your throat and pussy stretched so who exactly were you to complain..

“suguru, f-fuckkk.” you’d whimper out, moving closer towards gojo to run your tongue does his length, near his base. yet that’s when you gradually take him down your throat. he’s so warm inside your throat, you felt the curve he had that thoroughly presented itself to the roof of your mouth.

geto moves some strands away from his hair before gripping tight against your waist. with a swift lick of his lips, he slants his hips forward and the thrusts he started to present to you, you had no words.

“keep looking at me,” gojo huffs out in short breaths, your eyes flicker up at him and you reach down to play with yourself only before geto smacks your hand and you whine.

in the interim, gojo’s hand lies against the top of your forehead. he’s attempting to guide your throat, and you’re such a messy girl, saliva pouring all out the very sides of your mouth.

“goddamnn, you’re filthy for us both aren’t you? can’t even be a clean girl, all that spit running down your chin…just wanna kiss that mess right off you.”

you moan, staring as gojo starts to lightly move his hips into your mouth in a almost rotation motion. your nails dig into his thighs and your head just goes up and down. your lips wrap gently around your teeth to get comfortable — all while geto was driving such a ravenous speed.

your tongue was having a mind of its own, being versatile with how it’s all rigid and solid against gojo’s dick. you’re creating the perfect amount of pleasure to elicit sweet whimpers from the man’s throat, you were no match for geto’s sloppy hits against your pussy however.

“good girl, mouth ‘n pussy being all occupied,” geto utters, maintaining a reasonable pace for you. he had too because of his length, so thick it had your eyes wandering, casually rolling back with your lips parting. “let's see how quick you can make ‘toru cum.”

your eyes trail back up towards gojo, and he’s so pretty, white eyebrows furrowed and tugged tightly together.

you took down his shaft, running your tongue against his tip while having one hand to stroke him and he whines. “f-fuck, you guys are just tryin' to…tryin' to make me cum first,” he swallows, a hand still tugged onto your hair. “you’re so…fuckkk,” he groans, starting to thrust his hips once more against you. “keep takin' me down s-so deep, ‘n i’m gonna cum all down your pretty throat. you want that?”

a subtle needy head non was your answer, and you moaned once geto smacks your ass. still taking him, strings of your own saliva went down your lips and coated all over your chest.

“course ya do, nasty girl.” he huffs out a shaky breath. his lip quavers and with such ease, you wind up making gojo cum—you lap up your tongue against his throbbing cock head, and he’s spasming. gojo’s moans were so cute, melodic and all like a harmony.

geto’s still buried into you. your walls clamped and hugged him securely like a vice. he’s got a tight grip on the back your shirt so you’re vigorously slamming back against him repeatedly. “told ya, look how good you made him feel. can’t even say anything, cute.”

“hate you both,” gojo pouts, his voice was shaky. yet he's then dragging a thumb down your chin to wipe some remains of his own cum from your mouth. “not you though… ‘m not done with you.”

☆ SHIU & TOJI.

with these two, they’d be so mean. toji was already a straight asshole but with a stern shiu kong….you’d be in for a ride.

“think she wants us both,” shiu says, tilting his head with a cunning smile, a slim cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth. you laid reclined on the mattress, still trying to catch your breath that was continuously unsteady and jagged. it was toji’s fault, he’d just got done eating you out for a good long thirty minutes, you were sure your legs were as good as dead—yet you wanted more.

“use those words, babygirl,” toji murmurs in a gruff tone, he tilts your chin to face him and you’re so dumb, giving him a needy stare. “yeah? don’t be shy.”

you let off a moan before speaking, shiu removes the cigarette from his mouth before planting a soft kiss near the corner of your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath before uttering, “i…i want you both. at the same time.”

“oh?” they both say in uncanny unison. toji cocks his head to the right before easily manhandling you to get towards his lap, like you were a rag doll of some sort. “big fuckin’ girl. think she can take two. can barely take one but okay...”

toji’s sass made you wanna smack him, he laid back and realigned himself. you’re facing him and he’s got such a smug grin on his lips. “shiu be a good boy f’me and take her from behind while i get her from here.”

shiu rolls his eyes at the comment, and he does. you brace yourself, placing two hands on toji’s rock hard bare chest. he was so thick, an electrifying thrill rushed into you, and his cocky stare didn’t help things.

“f-fuckkk,” you sibilated, and he grabs ahold to your hips. your body grows hot and feverish each second you took to steadily sink down onto his dick.

“leave some room for me too, sweets,” shiu whispers, shuddering from him running a finger down your spine. you gnaw the inside of your cheek as shiu starts to make his way in also. if you didn’t feel full to the brim. you certainly did now. the stretch had your mind short-circuiting. “fuck, the way you just suck me ‘n toji in. pussy made just for us, huh.”

toji groans, bringing a mean smack to your ass. “better start moving, girl. don’t have all day.”

you start to move, and the pure feeling of being stuffed of not one but two cocks…

you couldn’t fathom your thought process. by this point, it was practically nonexistant. of course, you found yourself starting to drool the more they felt you cutely try to oscillate and roll your hips against them.

toji grins, you feel yourself growing hot from the way he’s just casually staring at you with that dumb, coy smile plastered on his lips. “what’s with the look baby? you want a kiss or somethin'?”

“y-yeah,” you whined, leaning into his touch and he chuckles, fingers of his going around your throat softly before dragging you closer towards him.

“come here girl..” he rasps, the smirk that stuck against his lips never left. you moaned right into toji’s mouth — feeling the residue of rich alcohol on his tongue, along with the sweet candied flavor of your own slick smothered all over his lips. your pussy was being crowded with each of them inside, deep strokes and thrusts to where you’re convulsing supremely.

a grunt runs past his lips before he ghosts his tongue against yours. you felt the scratched scar that ran across his lip, giving it a brief kiss. a good grip on your neck and once he pulls away, he has you gasping for air.

shiu groans, keeping your hips in place with two rough hands. the cold metal of his rich watch band grazed against your skin and it makes you let off a sexy perfect back arch. “sensitive everywhere, aren’t you, gorgeous? how cute..”

you don’t last long, because only a few long minutes later did you end up cumming again. saying you were out of breath was purely an understatement.

pant after pant, such sweet whines got ripped out of you before out of nowhere you hear wood split. it was loud, an abrupt screeching sound before the box spring sinks inward. the entire motion causes all three of you to nearly collapse.

“did the bed just b-break?” you moaned, stammering over your words, and feeling shiu’s warm cum pour right down your slit and right onto toji’s hefty well-trimmed base.

“seems like,” shiu pulls his brows together, and you whimper once he pulls out—you’re not used to him being plugged in, stuffing you thick and you end up plopping down on toji’s broad scarred chest. “don’t worry your pretty little head, toji’s got the money covered for your bed,” and you let off a relaxed sigh, feeling shiu massage your back before he snickers at toji with a dramatic pause. “oh right…you’re broke.”

☆ HIGURUMA & NANAMI.

these two men would have you in a figurative chokehold.

you’d be sat on top of higuruma, cutely hovering over his face. you suck your teeth, meanwhile, nanami’s standing over the both of you. your lips parts and a long pool of spit runs down your chin as you’re not only taking nanami but riding higuruma’s face.

“you’re so pretty like this,” nanami grunts. he’s so gentle and sweet with his touch.

you cry out a whimper once you feel higuruma’s tongue suck against your folds dry. he was so sloppy with his tongue, a good unyielding pressure on your hips.

as your hips bucked against his face, you breathed through your nose. carefully not using any teeth, you skim your tongue down his shaft before he bites his lip, a hand resting on the top of your head. for a brief second, you gag and nanami sighs out a groan. “easy, sweetheart. relax your throat, yeahh. like that.”

nanami bites his lip, feeling you encircle a plethora of shapes on his tip with your tongue. yet your muffled moans continued to escape past your sheeny lips.

your pussy was being devoured, higuruma’s lashes closed as your hips stuttered against his tongue.

he slurped and slurped, flicking against your nub to make your brain effortlessly haywire in such desire. the way his tongue dances alongside your clit.

it’s spewing all down his chin—you grind against his face once more before you whimper out a sweetened moan. higuruma’s hooked nose prods against your cunt and you’re just stuck in a trace.

“she likes riding against your nose, hiromi.” nanami breathes, moving a few strands from your face.

“ah, i bet she does,” he breaks away abruptly, watching a cobweb of his own saliva trickle and depart from your throbbing cunt. you’ve got him addicted, he laps his tongue before rubbing the tip of his nose against your folds just to see you whimper. “it’s reserved just for her. right angel?”

you nod, throat still full of nanami’s hardened cock—you felt a vein run down the side of his shaft, and he groans with his eyes indolently rolling back in pleasure.

“damn,” he hisses, the way his neck swiftly thrown itself back, it was attractive. his adam’s apple that poked through. nanami tugs on his tie roughly as if the room was hot, before letting off a low sigh. he grabs your chin to make you stare right at him, “what are we gonna do with you..”

as you continued to rut and maneuver your hips against higuruma’s face, nails dug into the thick thighs of nanami. you flicker your lashes up at nanami, feeling him pulse.

with a tap tap tap you heard him tapping his foot against the slick floor. he was about to release all in your mouth.…you knew it and so did he.

“get a little more comfortable for me, baby,” higuruma purrs, slowly sticking out his tongue to lick between your folds. you shudder at the lewd feeling of his tongue creating a curve all throughout the insides of your entrance. “that’s it. don’t move, don’t hover… just park your pussy on my mouth. good girl,” and he lets off a low grunt. “don’t know how fuckin’ starving i am..”

you break your mouth away from nanami’s shaft, rolling your tongue against yours lips once he finishes and he strokes your cheek lovingly, trying to hide his flustered state.

“…good girl,” he pants before tapping a finger against your temple. “stick out your tongue and show me.”

nanami watches as you obliged, lolling out your tongue for him before you moan. he towers over you, grabbing ahold of his length with one hand before smacking his tip against your tongue and you giggle, reaching a hand down to play with higuruma’s hair. “you little…that tongue’s dangerous.”

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xob1tchs · 1 year

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just thinking abt older miguel x younger reader (smut 17+)

age gap! dark concept!

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚.

you’re his best friend’s daughter, who he watched grow from an awkward teen to a young woman.

until puberty hit, and everything changed. no longer wanting to be around miguel or your father, prancing around like you’re better than that – than hanging out with family.

you grew up much faster than he’d hoped you would and sooner rather than later he’s loosing you to parties and dumb college boys (not like you were ever actually his) that he obviously thinks aren’t good enough.

no more wanting to spend Friday evenings snuggled on the couch, watching a scary movie. no more splashing around in his pool, shrieking out when he tosses you from the ladder. it all came to a stop.

you smiling at him or wishing him a good day coming to a halt, and he begins hearing your father complain of your behavior almost everyday. he’s getting sick of it, wishing you’d just be a good girl again. he tried to tell your father that you need punished, but he’s not having it – he swears it won’t do any good. that you’ve grown up too much.

miguel isn’t oblivious to what a young woman in college does. he was your age once, he knows. knows that your frame filled out, and that your legs grew longer, eyes got shiner, pouty lips got poutier. he just tries not to think too hard about how other men know that as well. and don’t get miguel wrong either – he feels like a creep for staring too long, looking where he shouldn’t. you look up to him.

or atleast you did.

but he’s also not an idiot, and he knows that when he’s not looking at you – you’re looking at him. chewing your lip, thinking things you probably shouldn’t, because that would just be wrong. it would be so so wrong.

it’s miguel who knows that it will do good. a simple plan really, to catch you alone, corner you and scare you into being a better daughter. miguel knows he’s a scary guy, that not even you can see past.

a late evening, one where your father is working late, and you don’t have to study. miguel is going to do it then, slipping in through the front door quietly, padding up the stairs to your bedroom.

that’s when he sees you doing something you definitely shouldn’t be.

your bedroom door is cracked, because you think you’re alone, and it’s just enough for him to see you – pillow lodged between your thighs, face screwed tight in pleasure, hips jumping and squirming. Your shirt is longer than it should be, but it’s caught on the curve of your bare ass, revealing it to his wide eyes.

He knows he should just silently retreat, go home and try to pretend like this hasn’t happened, he really does know it. but he stays put.

in a trance, length growing hard in his boxers with every stupid little incoherent plead you let out, squeaking and whining. you’re begging into the air, please wanna cum, please please. frail frame shaking and twitching. he just can’t seem to stop watching, drool pooling at the back of his throat, swallowing thickly.

you gasp out, thighs clamping tighter around the pillow, clearly approaching an orgasm, but you force yourself to stop, chewing your bottom lip. miguel thinks for a moment that maybe you can see him somehow, but that thought diminishes when you toss the pillow to the floor, falling forward, pressing your face into the mattress, legs spread wide, ass high in the air.

he can’t breathe when he sees it – your soaking pussy, screaming for him, creamy and puffy as if you’ve been at for hours.

you slip two fingers in your hole, moaning out, toes curling. the noises you make when you start thrusting your small fingers in and out, gushy and obscenely loud, make him hot. sweat building at his hairline, cock twitching in his pants.

and as if it can’t get any worse, you say it. what he’d been imagining you do.

“miguel please, need it so bad mi vida” you croon, muffled by the bed sheets, but clear as day in his ears.

“hmmm what does my sweet girl need” he coos, clicking his toungue, sucking a breath between his teeth to suffice the nerves building in his stomach.

you pause, face twisting around to see him as he trudges into your room, glowering down at you with shame. your pussy clenches around your fingers, wetness seeping out around the knuckle, and you whine.

your fingers spread your folds, letting him see your greedy hole as his hands come to spread your cheeks, shuddering at the sight up close.

“want you to fuck me, want it so so bad”

he hums, fingers ghosting over your slit, flicking your clit “since you’re begging so sweetly” he smirks.

you behave better the next day.

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚. severely unedited! pt.2 here

#hard thoughts #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut x reader #fanfic smut #spiderman smut

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bbokicidal · 2 months

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Hand Placement - [OT8]

quick summary : where the skz members like to lay their hands on your body during different scenarios.

warnings : suggestive content (18+, MDNI), sexual themes, casual (? ish, ig.) groping

notes : the order of the scenarios goes: casual -> intimate -> sensual so the pictures for each member will be placed in that order for visual reference!

if you like my content and want to see more, be sure to follow & reblog!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ bangchan

casual - he can't help it, if he's honest. he knows that actions speak louder than words, and when you're stubborn enough to deny the beauty he tells you he sees through his eyes - well, he hopes that the touch of his hand lingering over your jaw will guide you to see yourself the way he does.

intimate - always holding your hand, chan can't deny that he feels a protective nature over you. he can't let you get lost - can't fight the panic he finds filling his chest when his fingers aren't laced with yours. so do him a favor and just hold on tight, yeah?

sensual - having the need to constantly be using his hands, chan likes to knead that plush of your thighs any chance he gets - and the feeling of the warmth under his fingertips is all the more alluring when you're sitting above him rocking your hips down against his hardening cock.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ lee know

casual - never one to hurt you, his grip is always gentle when he grabs hold of your wrist. it's a subtle but sure way to make sure you drop the bratty, teasing nature that riles him up all too quickly - and it's a surefire way to get jisung giggling off to the side at your antics.

intimate - he isn't sure when his love for resting his hand on your lower back appeared, but minho adores getting to hold onto you in such a soft way. it's - again - subtle, but his gesture and guide is firm as he brings you to walk in front of him or lures you away from the counter so he can step forward and pay.

sensual - call him sappy - maybe even a bit romantic - but minho needs to feel your hand in his when he's making love to you. both so he knows you're present and with him in that moment, but also to keep you grounded when he's kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ changbin

casual - bin loves the feeling of having you in his arms. he can't resist the urge to hug onto you most times - use to being the clingier one in the group and loving that you'll accept his affection with no questions asked.

intimate - and since we're on the topic, who doesn't want a hug with bin's big strong arms wrapped around them? better yet, who doesn't want a strong hug from behind while also getting to play with his fingers and rings? he'll chat away with the others, swaying carefully back and forth with you huddled nice and close, twisting his rings and pulling at his bracelets.

sensual - having a thing for - what do we call it, grabbing? we've seen him do it with seungmin multiple times and you'd be wrong if you think he won't do it to you as well. at first it's gentle caresses along the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss - but once he's comfortable enough and knows what you like, he'll grab you by the throat, dragging you to him to steal a kiss before guiding you to your knees so you can take his awaiting cock in your pretty little mouth.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ hyunjin

casual - thinking it's more funny than anything, hyunjin developed a habit of pressing a hand over your mouth when you got snappy towards other members, namely being minho. because he knew for a fact that you would also get the airfryer-tissue treatment as soon as minho got out of his seat.

intimate - call him romantic, call him a sucker. hyunjin can't get enough of the warmth your body offers him, hands sliding under your shirt when you kiss him so he can squeeze at the softness of your sides and maybe, if he's feeling frisky, trail his fingertips up a bit higher.

sensual - call him a whore. if you're alone together, or you're in the group and everyone's been drinking a bit so he's what we'll call 'loose' in this situation - he's resting a hand right over your center. whether you're wearing pants, shorts, a dress, or nothing at all - he's always got his hand loitering there. maybe even rubbing small circles with his fingertips.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ han

casual - jisung is... a sweetheart when it comes to your body. his favorite thing to do no matter where you are, how many people are around, what time of day it is - is play with your hair. he loves the feeling of running his fingers through it and getting to twist it into fun hairstyles. he'll do his best not to rat it up, though.

intimate - his hand being in your back pocket is something he could put on his hobby - because that's a full-time job for him. you're standing beside him? hand in your pocket. you're sitting in his lap? hand under your ass in your pocket. you're standing in front of him in line? whoop - hand in your pocket. maybe squeezing here and there, too.

sensual - did you see this one coming? han jisung is an ass man and i will stand by my word. any time you're alone he's always, always, always touching the tooshie. he'll slide his hands over the soft skin and dig his fingertips in as much as he can while you're in his lap, his lips attached to your throat to muffle his groans. he gets more pleasure out of it than you do, i'd assume.~

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ felix

casual - ever the sweetheart and gentleman, felix does his best to keep his hands to himself with you in public. but if you're more comfortable and don't mind him holding onto you or being affectionate, he'll often times find himself holding onto your hands or bringing you closer so that you can hold onto his arm.

intimate - it's common this appears at awards shows - felix enjoys showing you off. his hand is consistently resting on your hip, gentle but firm in nature and not necessarily guiding you but moreso just resting there so that people get the hint. you're taken, and he's proud to be your boyfriend. (all days of the week, but when you look this gorgeous? he's bound to adore you just a tad bit more, pride swelling in his veins.)

sensual - felix's hands commonly rest on your sides during moments together. partially because it gives you stability - and partially because he needs to hold onto you while he stares up at your bouncing form above him, his lips parted and eyes fogged like glass with adoration.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ seungmin

casual - seungmin's almost always touching you more than he is the others. he'll nudge you with his hip to get you out of his way (playfully, of course) or give you a shove when you're being bratty - even though he's the exact same way. nuisances, i swear. <3

intimate - it's subtle, and soft. but seungmin has a love for linking his pinky with yours, letting his thumb rub over the back of your hand while you sit beside each other. there's no looks or words exchanged - just brief, sweet, quiet moments filled with a dull hum of love.

sensual - contrary to everything i just said, he's a grabber. grabbing your thighs, your hands, your sides - your hair. he has a love for holding your hair back for you while you swallow around his cock, or pulling on it to make you look back at him when he drills into you from behind so hard it almost hurts.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ jeongin

casual - there's little to no casual contact with jeongin, simply because skinship isn't his thing. he'll hold your hand or arms here or there in passing, but it isn't often he'll be affectionate with you in public.

intimate - when he is feeling softer, feeling safer when he's alone with you and out of the teasing eyes of his hyungs - jeongin likes to cup your face in his hands. he mentally huffs out a laugh at the way his palms seem to envelope your cheeks completely, but on the outside he's just gazing at you, smitten and soft and falling apart just by the simplest touch.

sensual - his hands tend to wander. they'll caress over every curve of your body when you're splayed on the sheets for him, so willing and wanting and ready for what he has to offer - but they travel along your back most often. you think he just has a want to feel the way your back arches away from his touch, chasing the warmth of his body and writhing with pleasure all because of him.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #skz imagine #stray kids imagines #leeknow x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #han x reader #in x reader #seungmin x reader #skz smut #skz smut imagine #skz scenario #skz imagines #stray kids smut

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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I’m begging for emt marauders where r dislocated her shoulder a stupid way and so r goes to another hospital to avoid them but then they show up bc their hospital is was on a bypass and see r

Thanks for requesting!

cw: shoulder injury no description

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

It’s dark, and despite the cloak of poor lighting and the distance between you, you lock eyes with James from across the parking lot. His brows furrow and he nearly drops the gurney he’s lowering out of his ambulance, Sirius hopping down to help. You see his lips form your name.

Sirius’ head snaps up.

There’s nowhere to hide. You shoot them a sheepish smile, your footsteps stalling before you remember to get out of the crosswalk. Remus’ head appears a moment later, peering out of the back of the ambulance. He helps James lower their patient onto the pavement, the both of them shooting worried glances at you as they wheel him inside and Sirius takes off towards you.

“What the fuck?” he calls as he jogs over. Your boyfriend’s dark hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and it gleams under the fluorescent lights outside the hospital. He looks from your face, to where you’re holding your arm tight to your side, and back again. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um, didn’t think I’d see you.” It’s out before you can think it through, but in all fairness you’re having a bit of a strenuous evening.

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “That’s not what I asked. Sweetheart, what did you do to yourself?”

You rub your lips together, feeling suddenly very sorry for yourself. Your shoulder really does hurt a lot. “I think I might’ve dislocated my shoulder?”

“How’d you manage that?”

You hesitate. “Don’t laugh.”

“Don’t laugh about what?” James asks as he joins you. Remus isn’t far behind. James peers at your arm, looking about as sorry for you as you are. “Are you hurt?”

“She thinks she’d dislocated it,” Sirius informs him.

“What were you doing?” Remus moves to your side, setting a comforting hand on your back as he touches near it gingerly. You hiss through your teeth and he stops.

“You guys can’t laugh at me,” you insist.

“Well, now I think I might not be able to help myself.” Sirius is smiling at you slightly, though his brows are still bunched with sympathy. “Come on, out with it.”

You chew your bottom lip. Remus’ eyebrow lifts expectantly. “Okay,” you breathe out, “um, you know how I’ve been going out to rollerskate lately?”

Remus’ expression clouds over. “I told you that was dangerous,” he says. “Were you wearing your pads?”

“Angel, this late?” James appears scandalized. “It’s been dark for hours!”

You feel your face heat, growing more sheepish by the second. Sirius gives you a stern look. “Go on,” he says.

“There was decent lighting and everything, but I accidentally started going down this hill, and I was going, um, really quite fast.” All three of your boyfriends tense in anticipation. “So I threw myself into the grass and I think I landed on my shoulder wrong.”

Sirius gives a little chuckle, ignoring your glare. “You think?”

“Okay, I’ll admit,” says Remus, “that is a slightly funny image. But it’s less funny that you actually got hurt, dove. Did you come all the way out here just to avoid running into us?”

You’re too surprised to hide your wince. Trust Remus to have you completely pegged without so much as a conversation.

James’ lips part at your reaction. “Did you really?”

“What are you even doing here?” you ask, shamefaced.

Sirius crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. “Our hospital’s on bypass,” he answers.

You shrink further under the intensity of his gaze.

“Angel,” James sighs. He steps closer and cups the back of your head, resting his lips heavily on your hairline. “Well, there’s no avoiding us now,” he says, straightening. “We haven’t taken our breaks yet, want us to sit with you while they get you sorted?”

“Yes, please,” you reply in a small voice.

Remus makes a compassionate sound in his throat, encouraging you towards the entrance with his hand on your back. “We’d better get you in, then. Hopefully we’ll be able to expedite things with the three of us here.”

You start to relax, two of your boyfriends seemingly haven forgiven your secrecy. You chance a look at the third, still watching you with a stern expression as you walk towards the hospital doors. He catches your look and flicks up a brow.

“You’d better still tell me I’m handsome when my hair is all gray,” he says, in the kind of severe tone that makes you doubt whether he’s teasing. “It’s already starting at the roots, and you’re entirely to blame.”

You quell the urge to smile. “You’ll always be handsome,” you tell him sincerely.

“That’s the attitude.” Sirius walks backwards in front of you, pecking you firmly on the lips before falling back into step beside you. “Keep rehearsing those lines, sweetheart. I’ll be needing to hear them more often if you keep up with this rollerskating bullshit.”

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zweigsangel · 1 month

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hockeyplayer!chris x ballerina!reader

gif made by me — headboard.

he just can’t resist when he sees you— so undeniably cute and adorned in that soft, delicate shade of pink. smut, 18+

you didn’t hate that your father was the hockey coach, but what you really couldn’t stand was the routine that followed. after your dance class, when you were still in your leotard and tights, he'd swing by to pick you up, your hair still slightly damp from the exertion. instead of heading home, though, he’d take you with him to practice. every time, you’d sigh, sinking into the car seat, staring out the window as the city streets blurred past. you’d ask him, almost pleading, “can’t you drop me off at home first?” but every time, he’d look at you in the rearview mirror and he’d say, “no, sweetheart.”

so you sat there in the bleachers, watching the boys move across the ice, their faces flushed, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they skated back and forth. they were rough, energetic, colliding with each other and laughing, completely absorbed in their practice. the rink was cold, and the smell of the ice was sharp in the air. you sighed, reaching into your dance bag, feeling the familiar items inside—hairpins, ballet shoes, and a book. it was your habit to always carry a book with you, no matter where you were. with nothing else to do, you opened it and began to read, the words quickly pulling you into another world.

your hair was neatly tied in a tight bun, a pink ribbon wrapped around it in a delicate bow. your pastel pink leotard and matching skirt hugged your small frame, and your cheeks were still rosy from the exertion of your dance class. the way you focused on the pages in front of you, completely absorbed, made you look almost ethereal, like an angel.

chris sturniolo couldn’t help but notice. as he skated, his eyes kept drifting toward you, drawn to the way you sat there, so serene and out of place in that cold, rough environment. it was as if time slowed for him; you seemed to glow against the dim, harsh light of the rink. he was so entranced by the sight of you, with your delicate features and the soft pink of your outfit, that he didn’t see another player coming toward him.

suddenly, he collided with the boy, nearly knocking him over. “hey, chris, watch where you’re going!” the boy yelled, annoyed. the shout broke your concentration, and you looked up from your book, your eyes scanning the rink until they met chris’s. he was staring at you, completely ignoring the other boy. his blue eyes were locked on you, and even though you couldn’t see every detail from that distance, you noticed the way his cheeks were reddened, the embarrassed grin on his face, and the way he couldn’t look away. you couldn’t help but giggle at the scene, the corners of your mouth lifting as you watched him.

and so, naturally, as the practice drew to a close, he couldn't resist. the moment the whistle blew, he darted across the ice, his skates gliding effortlessly as if pulled by an invisible force towards you. you, meanwhile, were already packing up, your movements quick and efficient, the strap of your bag slipping over your shoulder. you were ready to leave.

“hey,” chris called out. his hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing your arm, so soft it was almost like a whisper. he feared you wouldn’t even notice the contact, but you did. you paused, turning around slowly, your wide, doe-like eyes locking onto his. there was a brief moment where time seemed to stretch, his breath catching in his throat as he took in every detail—the delicate curve of your lips, the gentle flutter of your long lashes, the soft flush on your cheeks.

'i... i'm chris,' he managed to say, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush. you giggled softly, the sound light and melodious, finding his awkwardness adorable. “hi, chris,” you replied with a warm smile. you then introduced yourself, the name rolling off your tongue like music to his ears.

“honey, i’ll wait for you at the car,” your father’s voice echoed, steady and firm. you glanced in his direction and gave a small nod, acknowledging him before turning back to chris. "i'm his daughter," you said, as if it wasn’t already obvious. "you’re beautiful," he murmured, almost without thinking, the words slipping out before he could stop them. he bit his lower lip and his eyes flickered over you, trying to take in every detail. the intensity of his gaze made your cheeks warm slightly. "you’re a ballerina, right?" he asked then. there was something in the way he asked, like he could already picture you moving to music, graceful and poised. “yeah.”

and even though your father was literally waiting for you outside, you found yourself sitting back down on the bleachers, talking to chris. time seemed to slip away as the conversation flowed, his initial nervousness fading with each word exchanged. around you, the locker room doors swung open, and one by one, the other boys filed out, their chatter and laughter filling the rink as they passed by.

"shit, i should go," you said after a while, suddenly standing up, the realization hitting you like a wave. chris immediately stood as well, the urgency in your voice pulling him to his feet. "no, wait," he pleaded, his hand reaching out instinctively to gently cup your cheek, turning your face back toward him. before you could respond, his lips were on yours.

the kiss started out soft, tender, his hands cradling your face as if you were something fragile. in that moment, everything else faded. his helmet, which had been in his hands, tumbled over, your fingers threaded through his hair. the gentle warmth of the kiss soon intensified, becoming more urgent, more demanding. without even realizing it, the two of you had moved, stumbling together into the locker room. you parted your lips slightly, a soft moan escaping as chris took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. his tongue slid into your mouth, exploring and savoring your sweet taste, sending a shiver down your spine.

you moved together in a heated rhythm, your bodies instinctively seeking more until your back pressed against the cold, hard wall. the contrast between the chill of the tiles and the warmth of his body made you gasp, and his hands found your hips, gripping you firmly as if anchoring you in place.

chris's touch was both possessive and tender, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to hold you steady, yet gentle enough to keep you wanting more. he pulled back for a moment, just long enough to yank off his jersey and toss it carelessly to the floor, before his lips found yours again with renewed urgency. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and inch of you, and before you knew it, your skirt had slipped down, pooling at your feet.

"fuck," he muttered, his voice low and filled with desire, as your breaths grew more ragged, the heat between you building with each passing second. his hands were trembling slightly, driven by impatience and need, as he suddenly tore your bodysuit apart, the fabric ripping easily under his grip, falling to the ground in shreds.

"sorry," he whispered against your lips. “it's okay," you replied softly, as your hands moved to his waistband, quickly sliding his pants down, eager to feel more of him. a soft moan escaped his lips as he mirrored your movements, gently sliding down your stockings and panties. “may i?” he asked, his voice hushed. you nodded without hesitation, your breath hitching in anticipation.

his fingers began to explore between your folds, massaging you with slow, gentle strokes, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. the sensation made you moan softly, your lips parting as the sounds escaped. your hips began to move instinctively, pressing into his touch, silently pleading for more. “impatient, are we, angel?” he murmured, stopping his touch just as you were getting lost in the sensation, drawing a whimper of protest from your lips. his movements were deliberate now, unhurried, as he took a step back to lower his boxers down to his knees. then, he lifted you off the ground, his hands sliding under your thighs to support your weight.

"please," you whispered, your voice barely audible but laced with need. the word hung in the air between you, a plea that sent a shiver down his spine. it was all the encouragement he needed. with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed into you.

his head dropped to your shoulder, and a deep grunt escaped his lip. you clung to him, your manicured nails digging into his back, leaving faint marks that made him groan deeply. the sound reverberated in your ears, adding to the electric atmosphere that surrounded you both.

his movements were unhurried, each thrust slow and purposeful, as if he wanted to savor every second, every sensation. "you take me so well, angel," he moaned out, his voice thick with pleasure as he started sliding in and out of you faster. his words sent a shiver through you, intensifying the heat building inside.

your head fell back against the cold wall behind you as his hands cupped your breasts, your nipples hardening from his touch. every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your breaths growing shallow and rapid. you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, a sweet pressure that was becoming almost unbearable, signaling that you were getting closer.

and he understood, feeling the way your walls tightened around him, a clear signal that you were on the brink. "oh god," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with urgency as his hips moved quicker, the need to reach his own release driving him forward.

the intensity of it all became too much, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. the orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. you felt your release spill over, coating him and your thighs as he continued to move within you. the sensation of you unraveling around him pushed him over the edge, and with a deep, guttural groan, he followed you into ecstasy, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you up completely.

he slowly pulled out of you, his movements careful as he adjusted his boxers and pants. his gaze dropped to the torn body on the floor, the delicate fabric ripped in half. “shit, ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean to,” he stammered, hands gesturing aimlessly. you let out a soft, breathy chuckle, your lips curling into a slight smile as you shook your head. “hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, the sound of your voice gentle. “really, it’s not a big deal. although... i’m not sure how i’m going to explain this,” you added, a hint of playful exasperation in your tone. and your father obviously didn’t take it well, seeing you walk up to him wearing chris’s jersey, your own shirt ruined and your hair a tousled mess.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #hockey

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hungharrington · 6 months

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Your last blurb has me thinking of Steve and soft early relationship smut where it’s still fairly new and exciting and he’s just so sweet and wants to be close to you 💔💔

this is basically the premise of a little less conversation BUT it’s also such a good prompt anyways that i wanna write something goofy n domestic hehe <3 u put heartbreak emojis but i’m making this goopy sry! and actually it’s not even soft god i’m sorry MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve sinks into you in one slow thrust and makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, his forehead to your collarbone.

For one very long moment, he doesn’t move.

“You… you okay?” You ask, all breathy yourself. Your cunt pulses wildly, eager for him to start moving, for some friction— but you’re worried he’s maybe hurt himself somehow. “Steve?”

“I’m good,” He hisses, voice all tight like he is very much not at all good. It blends away as a husky tone threads through his voice. “God, sorry, you just feel—“

He gives a little rock of his hips, pulling out an inch and thrusting back in and a beautiful moan pulls from his lips. He does it again, pulling out a little further and pushing himself back in to your wet, inviting cunt.

He groans again, “Oh my god, I like you so much.”

You startle a laugh, your arms around his neck sliding down so you can pull his head up a bit. Steve’s flushed and looking sheepish by the time you get him face to face. His hips haven’t stopped moving, still small, perfect thrusts in and out, driving you mad.

“Sorry,” He says again, half panting. “Not the best thing to say the first time we fuck but,” He huffs, a throaty moan slipping out in the middle of the sentence. “It’s true.”

You’re beginning to pant too, all your inhales sounding gaspy and high. Your thighs spread more instinctively, pulling them further back to your chest, letting him get in deeper.

“N-No, it’s good,” You say, smiling a bit as he focuses on your face, his lips parted and pupils blown wide. “I really like you too.”

Your words inspire another moan, particularly loud, and his hips rut into you with more fervor, a soft lewd squelching noise beginning to fill the bedroom. Steve moans shakily, peppering sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.

One hand shifts on your hip, sliding up to press your leg further out and unexpectedly, and there’s an audible pop of a joint cracking. Steve stills instantly, still inside you, as he stares down at your hip.

“Oh my god—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You hastily interrupt, knowing what he’s thinking. You tug his gaze over to you and away from your leg, seeing the smidge of panic in his eyes. “It just cracks sometimes, you couldn’t know that, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt.”

Steve deflates rapidly, giving a relieved chuckle against your chest where he buries his face. When he speaks, his words are all muffled, “I thought I broke your hip.”

You can’t help it, you laugh a bit at that— imagining his panic at the thought. For the third time, you urge his face up and out of hiding, leaning up to nuzzle against his face.

“Quickest way to end a relationship ever,” He jokes, but you can hear the genuine worry beneath his humour.

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” You murmur tenderly, dropping little kisses along his cheeks and nose. His face blazes hot beneath your ardent affection. “But hey, we’re figuring it out, aren’t we? That’s part of the fun, yeah?”

You use your ankles, crossed over his tailbone, to press him into you and Steve gets the message quickly, starting up his gentle thrusts again with a grunt. The soft noises of sex resume, mixed with your combined low moans. The rhythm from before is easy to slip back into. Your cunt throbs hotly, pleasure starting to drool through your stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes heavily, watching your face closely. “Part of the fun. Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He says it so sincerely that it makes you gasp, clenching around him and eyes screwing closed for a moment. A low whine crawls out your throat.

“God, fuck you for saying that,” You say, with no heat at all. You can’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll combust if you see how handsome he looks right now.

“Yeah?” Steve huffs, sounding a little smug. Your cunt gushes at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re right. Figuring this stuff out is the fun part.”

You whine as he fucks in a little harder, the angle just right to have your gut twisting up in pleasure. Your breath is ragged and you finally open your eyes again, swallowing back another sound at the sight of Steve. Messy haired, pink cheeks, reddened lips. He looks hotter than you’ve ever seen him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” You say— because two can play that game. It works a charm. You can feel the stutter in his hips, see the ripple on his face, hear the whimper in his throat.

Steve keens, tucking his face down into your neck again. His hand searches the sheets til it finds yours, fingers intertwining before he presses your linked hands into the mattress and ruts into your snug cunt harder and faster, deeper.

“F-Fuck,” He stammers, a moan lilting the word. “I like you so much.”

You can’t even laugh this time round because your mind is starting to melt a little at the edges— but it makes the pleasure all that much better, knowing he means it.

#wait i kinda froth this one #it’s fun it’s goofy it’s hot #steve loves to telling u he likes you hehehe #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #fuck titles i hate thinking of them

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emchant3d · 1 year

Text

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week.

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it.

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger.

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing.

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?"

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep.

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching.

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

#steddie #steve/eddie #stevexeddie #eddie/steve #eddiexsteve #steddie fic #my fic #listen i was in the mood for steve whump and i won't apologize for it #don't worry there's plenty of eddie whump coming in part 2 i promise

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cordeliawhohung · 13 days

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I’d do illegal things for a Simon and chip moment where he asks if she wants go out to eat and she says that she can’t spend any money rn and he just says “I didn’t ask you if had money, I asked if you are hungry”

ice cream

written as a non canon in limbo drabble but can be read on its own | mafia!141 masterlist | ghost x reader | fluff

Your stomach is a traitorous bitch.

It writhes beneath your skin. Contracts and pulls at your abdomen as it gurgles and whines. It's an alarm, screaming at you that it's empty as if it had been unknown this entire time before. As if you aren't already aware of the way your abdomen suddenly feels concave. Body collapsing in on itself without support.

Hunger hits you worse today than it usually does as the sun beats down on your exposed skin. You feel its rays cook you alive, leaving you perfectly tender so that your stomach might consume you if you don't satiate it soon. It's not a simple task here in the midst of the sweltering summer afternoon. How Simon can casually meander along the park's walking path in his black crewneck is both a mystery and extremely impressive, but it's something you're finding to be difficult. Perspiration coats the back of your neck and trickles down your spine. The cotton of your shirt sticks to your skin and you swear you would rip the cloth off of you if you weren't in public.

If Simon hears your stomach, he doesn't mention it. He continues his stroll as you stumble along next to him. The walk had started out great as you roamed beneath thick foliage and chirping birds, talking about anything that came to mind. An unrelenting wave of malaise hit you with the force of a train, and now you can scarcely get a word out of your mouth. The only thing that can leave your lips are the soft pants you desperately try to mask as you keep speed with Simon.

You're half tempted to pitch yourself into the duck pond.

"Wanna grab somethin' to eat?"

Simon's words are slow to reach your ears, as if they're diving through water just to be heard. Your head bobs in a nod, but when your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your answer contradicts your wants.

"I didn't bring my wallet," you breathe.

"Wasn't askin' if you had money," he says. Simon's pace begins to slow, and he forces you to do the same as his fingers reach for yours. They're impossibly thick as they weave between yours, tight like textiles. You feel the bones ache with the stretch, but you ignore it as you look up at him with tired eyes. "Was askin' if you're hungry."

You are. More than hungry, you're famished. Peckish. Starving. Enough for it to be painful, but you're trying to decipher if the pain warrants you allowing Simon to pay for a meal or not.

"I... I could go for a snack, or something," you stutter. You attempt to swallow, but your throat is too dry.

"A snack," Simon scoffs. It's light and playful, but you take notice of the way he sees right through you. X-Ray vision; he sees the pit in your stomach, that empty hole leaving your brain fuzzy and your body weak. "Not gonna half arse anything with you, sweetheart."

And he doesn't. Not even as you try to point out cheap fast food chains to go into, Simon doesn't bite. Knows you all too well. No matter how hard you try to nudge him in one direction, he leads you elsewhere until you're nestled in a window seat beneath a high speed fan in a mum 'n pops sandwich shop. It's the first time he's seen you eat a meal faster than him. You scarf the expertly toasted bread down, hardly stopping to enjoy the flavors of your toppings, and all Simon can do is smile to himself as he hides behind his sandwich.

"Wanna get ice cream after this? Beat the heat?" Simon offers as you peck at the chips on your plate.

"Hmm, dunno if I'll have the stomach space for it," you joke. Still, you shovel chip after chip into your mouth. You'd lick the salt and crumbs clean off of your plate if you could.

For a short moment, Simon watches you. He's always watching you somehow. Reading the lines etched into your face or the emotion flickering behind your eyes. You try to be clandestine with your thoughts, but he's gotten good about pulling back the covers. About not letting you hide.

"I don't mind buyin' you things," he says, no longer beating around the bush. "Food. Anything."

Having been caught in your act, you try to brush off the shame with an awkward laugh. "I know. I just... I dunno if I can..."

"I love you," he says, "and I wanna take care of you. If takin' care of you means buyin' you food, I'll do it. The price means nothin' to me."

You're unable to conjure a response. Love always manages to shock you, again and again. It's fickle. Surprising. Has a mind of its own and still it knows yours like the back of its hand. Knowing how hard words are for you, Simon hums as he wipes the crumbs of his sandwich onto his jeans.

"So. Ice cream?" he asks.

You smile as you tap the tip of your chip against your plate. "Yeah. That sounds lovely."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #in limbo #f!reader

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tswkento · 6 days

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༉‧₊˚. jjk men when they see you cry!!

author’s notes: heyaaa this is some hurt/comfort for anyone who cries and feels nothing afterwards. instead, feel these beautiful men’s arms around you🤪sorry for any typos btw

* ˚ nanami kento;

“oh– darling?”

initially, he is hesitant to do anything because he doesn’t know if it’s the type of crying that you need to do on your own or the one where you need his shirt to wipe your tears against — so he stays close with a gentle caressing motion on your shoulder. you don’t take too long to show him that you absolutely need him; with the way you bury your face in his chest and your arms wrap tight around his middle.

nanami’s heart breaks a little along with yours whenever you cry because the way your shoulders shudder with the sobs escaping your throat and the way you wail, subconsciously trying to show him your pain, it’s all just too much so his eyes water and his nose stings as he actively sniffles, trying to stop his own emotions.

nanami kisses your temple from time to time and doesn’t let you go until you pull away yourself, an embarrassed laugh escaping you about your state, but kento is quick to shush you and assure you that you’re okay and it’s important you let out the pent up stress or any other thing that bothers you, even if it’s through uncontrollable crying.

overall, gives the best hugs ;))

* ˚ gojo satoru;

“oh no no no, baby, don’t cryy~” his brows knit upwards as soon as he sees the corner of your lips twitching downwards and your watery eyes looking away, but satoru doesn’t let you look away.

his hands cup your cheeks and he cooes at you as if you were a little baby, caressing the skin with his fingertips to distract you and kissing you all over your face while you inhaled shakily and continued weeping with your eyes ashamed and downcast. satoru stands impossibly close, one arm sliding down and behind your back to bring you close and he starts doing the thing he does the best — talking!

he barely talks while you wail and cry, but when you start to calm down he becomes a lot more talkative and even teases you, grinning in delight when you crack a smile at him and focus on him instead of whatever it was that was plaguing your mind. gojo continues peppering your face with pecks, complaining about the saltiness, and feels his own heartbeat slow down when you finally come back to your senses again.

* ˚ sukuna ryomen;

“who did this to you?” he mutters darkly as he stares at you from afar.

you shake your head at him while turning away, a feeble attempt at hiding yourself from him while you mumble under your breath about being fine, but sukuna is not stupid. sooner or later he will find out the reason why you’re erupting in such violent cries so he decides that for now he will try his best to console you and make you feel better.

with a hand on top of your head, sliding down to the back of it to stroke it while he positions himself in front of you and demands you look at him. his cold fingers soothe the heat of your cheeks and glide over your eyelids to wipe away your tears while you fail to regain your breath and keep eye contact.

sukuna places a single kiss on your forehead and when you finally calm down, he throws an arm around your shoulders to bring you flush against his chest. it’s a quiet moment where you just take long deep breaths and stare through him while he brushes away wet strands of hair and cleans your face, and in the end, with a tilt of his head, sukuna asks “alright?”.

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sweetrainbowcandy · 1 month

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Just a worst wolverine daddy dom!Logan blurb while I work on writing a new fic 🫶

“C’mere, Princess.”

That low timbre could make you do anything, and what it currently wanted was for you to step forward and put your dainty foot in front of him so he could slide on your cute little strap heels. His big, rough hands manipulated your foot with uncharacteristic gentleness, surprisingly nimble fingers fixing the clasp behind them. You grin as he finishes putting on both of them for you, turning to look at your reflection in the mirror against the wall.

You’d been seeing Logan for awhile now ever since you were introduced through Wade Wilson, Logan’s roommate. Turns out the both of you were equally fucked up— you with your daddy issues and him with his desperation to have control over something in his life, which turned out to be you.

Your relationship was unconventional, and you knew that. Logan was two centuries old and you were in college, and Logan couldn’t help but felt a pang of guilt every time he thought about how he could be keeping you from experiencing your youth to the fullest. But whenever you looked up at him and called him ‘daddy’ with that little twinkle in your eyes, Logan found himself wanting to be selfish.

“Where are we going to eat, daddy?” You asked softly in that sweet little voice of yours, clasping your hands around one of his and leaning against his big arm. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and taking a moment to inhale your vanilla scent, one of his hands moving to feel up your ass over that pretty little dress.

“You’ll see, doll.”

Riding with Logan was one of your favorite things to do, especially being his little passenger princess. Logan never let you get your hands dirty, not with the gas pump, not even with the steering wheel. The passenger seat was adjusted perfectly to your preference, and a few of your things were stored in the passenger side door.

His strong hand rested firmly on your thigh, his thumb drawing a small circle as he watched you put on your lip gloss in the mirror of the sun visor. He loved when you glossed up those pretty lips, loved to see it glistening in rings around his cock as he fucked your throat.

When you reached the restaurant, Logan pulled out your seat for you, your hand holding his over the table as he sat across from you. Dinner with Logan was always nice, even if you did ninety percent of the talking.

But going home was the best part.

Logan loved seeing you in your cute little outfits, but he much preferred taking you out of them. He’d carry you to the bedroom, tear off your dress (he’ll buy you a new one, he always does), and absolutely ravage your little body. Doesn’t matter if you’re actually little, you are compared to him.

His heavy adamantium-enhanced weight pins you down on the bed as he fucks you prone, caught in a headlock cutting off your airflow as your vision goes hazy, his massive cock jackhammering into your tight cunt. You gasp out his name as he adjusts to a different angle, and he releases your head, slapping you softly across the face before gripping your cheeks and causing your lips to pucker,

“What was that, Princess?” He asks, wanting to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Need more, daddy,” you mewl, clawing at the sheets in front of you as you arch prettily back into him.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

#Logan howlett #Wolverine #Logan howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #Logan howlett x you #Wolverine x you #Deadpool and Wolverine #x men #smut #Logan howlett smut #Wolverine smut

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hitomisuzuya · 2 months

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Im sending hugs to you. I hope this ask helps in any way it can. If you dont want to write it, feel free to ignore (although id appreciate it if youd answer the ask and tell me you wont write it.) love love love you and your writings!

Request!

Fatui scara coming home earlier than his wife which is rare since hes the one thats usually late cuz of harbinger duties. One she does arrive, its practically hours that should be spent in bed, resting. He senses wife troubles aka wife in need of love and attention due to being exhausted from work, life or whatever may be. All he knows is that he needs to get rid of your stress. By fucking it out of you, that is.

I can see this as soft dom scara but you can do whatever you like ^^

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Creampie. Husband!Scaramouche. Degradation. Soft!Dom Scara.

Thank you, dear ❤️ Writing this did help. I am glad everyone likes my soft doms a lot. Scara is straight up husband material in a lot of unique ways 😌

Scaramouche is very set in his ways, his eyes immediately hooding with annoyance the moment he walked through the door. He didn't receive his usual greeting: his wife's arms wrapped around him, nuzzling into his neck with: "I missed you. I am glad you are home."

This man legit walked into every room and looked around. Pulled back the curtains to every window, looking outside in hopes of seeing you. Sighing, he crossed his arms. "Where is my wife?"

He was pretty sure the entirety of Teyvat, and maybe even Celestia was impressed that he'd found a woman who could tolerate him, and the general experience even knowing him brought. He would've been the biggest idiot not to lock you down when he did.

Being the man that he is, Scaramouche knew exactly what you needed the moment he saw you walk in the door. You looked tired, anxious, and lonely. He knew you got anxious without him, and the fact that he'd stayed away three days longer than he promised didn't help much.

Scaramouche knew what he had to do: these tensions were best relieved by fucking you raw, absolutely dumb and drooling on his cock. Real men tended to their wife. And he was determined to do nothing short of that.

From the way your pussy was clenching around his cock as he fucked into you from behind more than said how much you missed him. There wasn't one moment where his cock hadn't been aching to buried raw inside of you.

The relentless pace with which his hips smacked into yours was furious. "Sc-Scara!" You cried out, his cock head nudging firm and consistent into your sweet spot struck you breathless, your fingers clawing at the sheets. You could barely breath as shamelessly loud moans sounded from your throat, "I can't breathe! I need you so badly," The latter was said behind a choked back sobs of pleasure, your hips pushing back into his cock.

"Shh, shh, I know, kitten. I know," Scaramouche groaned, he reached a shaky down to stroke the back of your head before grabbing a handful of your hair, "Just shut that pretty brain of yours off, and focus on one thing," He pulled your head back, pushing a hand down on the small of your back to make you arch it down, "Pleasing me."

He smirked feeling such a shiver rippled through you. The more dominant he got with you, the more you relaxed. Archons, he'd missed you so fucking much. Both him and his cock. Your pussy was clutching so warm, perfect, and tight on his cock. Craving to milk it for all it was worth that it was hard to keep himself from cumming.

Fucking his pretty wife full of his cum was part of tending to her. And there was more than a thick, milky ring glistening on his cock. "Fuck I can feel it, you are so close," He groaned drunkenly, reaching down to rub and pinch your clit, "Cum on your husband's dick like the cock drunk slut you are," He kept a hand on your hip, holding your body still so he could fuck his cock as deep inside of you as he could.

You were dizzy, seeing stars and drooling. Your pussy only clenched tighter, your clit swelling and throbbing more underneath his fingers as he degradingly praised you. He delivered a firm smack across your ass to emphasize he meant what he said.

You mewled in bliss, your toes curling as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. You felt every pulse of his thick, veiny cock dragging between your sensitive walls. You could barely hold yourself up on your elbows, your whole body shaking from pleasure.

Scaramouche was certain all those unwanted, stressful tensions were melting away from you. "Who do you belong to, kitten?" He purred, the pads of his fingers skating on your clit, "Who did you swear to honor and obey?"

"You! It's you, Scaramouche!" You barely heard the shaky laugh behind you before the knot of your orgasm finally broke apart, your pussy squirting as you creamed hard on his cock. You could barely comprehend up from down, all the feelings of how hard it was being lonely, waiting all the time was for you was forgotten.

"That's fucking right," Scaramouche moaned, his cock pulsing cum for third time that night inside of you, "Look at my good girl fucking shake, my perfect obedient slut," He babbled. His eyes drifted closed, lost in the haze of how perfect his cock felt sheathed inside of you.

The satisfaction Scaramouche felt was immense when he pulled out of you, his cum oozing out of you as he gently flipped you over onto your back. Your arms immediately wrapped around him as he collapsed on top of you. "I missed you, Scara. I missed you so much," You said sleepily, nuzzling into his neck.

"Finally," He murmured, holding you against him.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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chaepink · 11 months

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DAY 31: A HOUSEHUSBAND'S DUTY | RIMMING

after coming home from a hard day at work, your househusband surprises you by wearing a maid outfit. though he's annoyed that you're late so how about you bend him over the kitchen counter and eat him out to make up for it?

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ househusband!nanami kento x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!gn!reader, nanami in a maid dress, rimming, alternate universe, teasing, pet names, kitchen sex, fingering (m receiving), anal play, praise, edging

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 2k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

Weight gets lifted off your shoulder the moment you walk into your place, the delicious scent of dinner hitting your nose and making you let out a hum. You immediately recognize it as your favorite meal.

Even since you and Nanami chose to get away from the magical world together and start someplace new, its been the best choice you two have made ever since. Nanami had offered to stay at home and take care of the shared house as you work and support the two of you. And lets just say that his cooking is some of the best you've ever tasted.

You quickly take off your jacket and shoes to make your way to the kitchen where the smell is coming from and a smile appears on your face at the thought of seeing your husband after such a long day at work. You had stayed at work for an hour and a half longer than usual due to technical difficulties and traffic but after getting through it all, you hurried back home to see your darling.

Though when you turn the corner into the kitchen, you stop in your tracks, your eyes immediately widening at the sight: Nanami is wearing a fucking maid dress.

"You're late." He mumbles without looking at you but you can still just barely see his flushed face. You rapidly blink to make sure you're not seeing it wrong as your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes roaming the back of his figure. The frilly black and white dress adorned with lace seems a couple sizes too small for him, the material tight against his skin and hugging him in all the right places. The short dress stops a little below his ass, barely covering the plump skin and sure to rise up if he bends down (or over). Black puffy sleeves adorn the dress and add to the overall cuteness of it.

The thought of dinner has left your mind the second you stepped into the kitchen and something else has taken your attention instead.

"Are you... wearing a maid dress for me, Nanami?" Though the answer is obvious, he doesn't answer your question and instead lets out a huff. You suddenly realize he's annoyed at your late timing and you chuckle.

You walk towards him and wrap your arms around his chest, playing with the adorable lace and buttons on the front. "Sorry for being late today. There were some difficulties at work, you know? Though you in a maid dress certainly takes my mind off that." He still refuses to look at you. You sigh at his pettiness as your hands slowly trail down his down, feeling his defined body under the thin material of the dress. They make their way down his exposed thighs and squeeze them, relishing in the way Nanami freezes and stops adding ingredients to the pot.

"Could I make it up to you, baby?" You tilt your head sideways to take a view at the flushed face behind his glasses and you grin when he finally glances at you with a hint of neediness in his eyes.

You can't help but go under the maid dress and grope his ass, loving the way Nanami lets out a gasp that turns into a small moan.

"Turn around for me." Nanami slowly does and avoids your eye contact and how the look in your eyes screams 'i just want to rip it off.' The buttons on the front seem almost as if they're about to pop off due to the size of Nanami's chest in the dress but it just looks so good like that. Now that he's facing you, you can finally see him in all his glory. Especially the bulge against his skirt that Nanami just prays in his head that you don't see or pay attention to.

"Already hard, hm?" You laugh at the way Nanami covers his face and groans. Seeing a 6 foot man who just looks so serious and stern all the time dressed in a little maid dress outfit—while its something you never would have expected—has your mouth watering. "Don't worry," you say, getting closer to him. Your body presses against his and you harshly grab his chin to look at you.

"I think it's rather cute." You begin to feel him grind his bulge against you and you quickly pull away from his body, making Nanami reach out to grab you but you slap his hands away, shaking your head. "No touching."

Leading him to a nearby free counter after turning the stove off, your hands begin to roam his body even more. Your rough groping and squeezing leaves Nanami breathless and hot underneath the outfit.

"All this for me? You sure do love spoiling me, honey." He lets out a grunt when you turn him around and push his body on top of the cold surface of the counter, his nipples immediately hardening. His face is pressed against the surface as his breaths become ragged.

"H-Hurry up, [name]." You chuckle at his eagerness. Though your husband is usually always quiet, stern, and serious, you love it when he becomes needy around you and when he surprises you with stuff like this.

The maid dress rises up his ass, giving you a full view of his ass as well as the pair of white lacy panties he's wearing.

"Holy shit."

Though you didn't prepare for the panties, you're certainly not complaining. A hand goes to the hem and lifts it off his skin before letting it snap against his hip. Nanami lets out a whimper at the feeling and your rough touches.

"I never thought you would look this good in a maid dress. I definitely should've asked you to wear one ages ago." You let out a small chuckle. Nanami turns his head to say something back, probably a sarcastic retort, but a squeeze of his ass again shuts him right up.

You pull down his panties to reveal a butt plug in his hole. Surprise after surprise leaves you eager to ruin him even more but a little teasing never hurts anyone.

"Already prepped, hm?" He quickly nods.

Nanami shivers when he feels your fingers grip the plug, slowly pulling it out at such an agonizing pace. When it's halfway out, you push it back in, making him let out a moan, his back slightly arched at the feeling. You keep doing it for a while and Nanami quickly becomes impatient.

"J-Just take it out already." He glares at you but the glare lacks any real threat. After all, you're the one in control and he doesn't look very threatening when he's bent over a counter in a maid dress with a butt plug in him. Nanami realizes that quickly and looks away.

You tsk at his bratty behavior. "I don't think you're in the position to be giving me commands, darling. Not when you're the one about to get your ass eaten too." Nanami chokes on his spit at your blunt words.

However, you decide that you've done enough teasing and pull the plug out of his hole, leaving him to squeeze around nothing and left feeling empty.

But the empty feeling leaves and the feeling of being full returns when you shove two fingers in him and immediately curl them, hitting the spot in him that makes pre cum splurt out of his hardened dick and onto the floor. You feel him grind against your fingers in fervor and you add another finger, stretching him out even more than the plug did. You still feel the lube he used meaning he must've prepped himself only a couple hours ago.

"S-Shit ngh g-go deeper..." You plunge your fingers deeper into him. His glasses fog up from his heavy breathing as your movements quickly make him fall apart in front of you. But before he could warn you that he's about to cum, you take your fingers out.

He groans in displeasure at you and you just smile. "I can't just be fingering you the entire time, can I?" You get on your knees and leave a teasing kiss on his cheeks. You give his ass a light slap before spreading them apart, revealing his twitching hole to you, making Nanami's dick twitch. "Though I'm sure you would still enjoy it."

He feels your intense gaze on his behind and his face flushes as he grumbles at you. "Q-Quit staring and get on with it." You roll your eyes. "So eager," you mumble under your breath.

Nanami practically melts against the counter when he feels your tongue begin to circle his rim, a groan bubbling out of his throat. You notice his knuckles begin to turn white from how hard he gripping the shelf above him.

Your tongue teases him as it continues to circle the outside before catching him off guard and pushing your tongue inside. It goes in easily due to the plug and your fingering earlier and Nanami lets out a high pitched whimper that certainly doesn't fit his appearance.

"O-Oh God..."

You hum at the taste of him and as your tongue goes deeper inside him, you feel Nanami slowly grind against it, eager for more. The harsh grip your hands have on his ass will surely leave red nail marks on his ass afterward but you've learned that Nanami is a fan of the marks you leave on his body and sometimes even begs you to leave them.

Now that the pleasure finally got to his head, he's gone rather quiet and isn't talking as much, only the sound of his groans and whimpers filling the room. The lewd, sinful wet sounds of your tongue in his ass makes his mind go mushy. It's so dirty but the thought only makes him grind against you even more. He feels his legs begin to shake and he could only let out a cry when one of your hands goes to his hardened dick and begin to pump it. His pre cum leaks out of his dick and onto the floor, making a mess on it.

The pleasure from your tongue and your hand on his dick makes his back arch as he subconsciously pushes his ass up in the air. The kitchen quickly feels too hot as your clothes cling to your skin. Your hands speed up on his dick, wanting to quickly bring Nanami to his release. Your hands bunch the material of his maid dress up his back as your hands grip his hips to push him closer to your face.

When your tongue hits a spot in him that makes his eyes roll and toes curl, Nanami doesn't have enough time to tell you that he's about to cum as his release hits him like a tidal wave, a loud moan erupting from his throat.

Nanami slumps against the kitchen counter as his orgasm sends shocks up his spine and his dick makes a mess underneath him and on the cabinet in front of him. Some end up on his skirt and you can't help but think how sinful Nanami looks with his dick out, maid dress wrinkled and soiled, and cum underneath him.

His breaths are ragged as he tries to recompose himself from his intense orgasm. His half-lidded, hazy gaze turns to meet yours when you stand back up. He sends you a half-glare half-pout look with his face full on red when you choose to lick your lips at him, grinning at his state.

Your hands suddenly make their way up his body and when you bend over to murmur in his ear the warm feeling of your breath sends shivers up his spine. "Shall we take this upstairs?" Without wasting a second to think about the dinner that needs to be made, Nanami nods.

It's safe to say that dinner was long forgotten but who cares when you have an appetite for entirely something else.

note: day 31! ugh it went so fast and now my first kinktober is over already :') happy halloween to those who celebrate it!

🏷️ : @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @deffnotstarguys @laraleafs @lamees004 @literary-latte @cl-0-vr @qweenjx @katebaku7710 @yenakwyl @katsuslover @mysicklove @fairyvibez @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa

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bwabys-scenarios · 3 months

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Princess(NSFW)

Yandere!Kurapika x Chubby!Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: nsfw, breeding, yandere behavior, Kurapika is enamored with you, reader’s body is made fun of(not by Kurapika), violence, death

A/N: the food throwing scene is based on something that happened to me in school LOL

HXH Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @atransmuter @sweetmiri

He can’t get enough of you, really. From the moment he met you, Kurapika was immediately pulled in by your sweet voice and soft frame.

Everything from your cute chubby cheeks to your pretty plump lips had his heart racing.

Of course, Kurapika wasn’t the type to talk for looks alone. You were more kind and patient than he thought possible, always there for him when he needed support or comfort, and never getting upset when he would leave for unspecified periods of time.

You were always so understanding, so sweet and unapologetically you. A ray of sunshine was the only way he could describe you. Even the cloudiest days couldn’t dull your shine.

To him, you were an angel, his princess. Anything you asked for, he would hand deliver if it meant you would give him that pretty smile of yours.

He just adored you endlessly, nothing made him more happy than being by your side.

Kurapika, however, was unfortunately quite shy. It’s not that he didn’t want to share his feelings with you, he just… was afraid of rejection. So, while on missions or away from you, he would stare at your picture, sighing as he dreamed of a life where the two of you could be together.

It wasn’t long before his little crush started to grow into something more… obsessive. After all, the two of you were close, were you not? When he would announce he was coming to visit, you would drop all other plans so you’d be available for him. That meant something, right?

So today, as he took you shopping, Kurapika decided it was about time to tell you how he really felt.

“How does this look?”

You walked out of the changing room in a tight miniskirt and a sweater, making Kurapika glad he wore his loose fitted tabard today.

You plump tummy and soft thighs made his dick twitch, and he cleared his throat as he crossed his legs, his cheeks red. “Y-you look great, (Name).”

Once you changed, he added the clothes to the steadily growing pile of things he wanted to buy you. Kurapika couldn’t help it, you just looked amazing in everything you put on.

Kurapika paid for your clothes before taking his hand in yours. “How about some ice cream? It’s pretty warm out.”

“Ooo, that sounds really yummy-“

The two paused when they heard someone muffling their laugh nearby. Kurapika eyes narrowed before cutting to the left.

“Pfft! Are you sure she needs ice cream?”

You shrunk into yourself as a group of girls and their boyfriends laughed to themselves. Kurapika hated this, he hated seeing you try to hide yourself due to the rude comments of others. You never had anything bad to say about another person, so why were you the one always being insulted and belittled?

“Come on, there’s no need to listen to the words of those with an ugly heart.”

He attempted to guide you away, only for you to yelp when a piece of food was thrown at you.

“There, fatty. If you’re so hungry, eat that.”

Kurapika stood completely still, his eyes on the stain now on your sweater. It had been a gift from him, a soft pink cashmere sweater that you loved.

“K-Kurapika, let’s just go…”

After being friends with Kurapika for a long time, you knew that the scarlet hue taking over his eyes meant trouble in this context. You tried to fight back the tears of humiliation and hurt to prevent Kurapika from going on a rampage.

“I-I’m okay, we can just wash my sweater later. Let’s go to m-my apartment…”

He let out a shaky breath, glaring daggers at the group before gently squeezing your hand. “Alright, angel. Let’s go.”

You sighed in relief, unaware that the quick glance Kurapika made was enough to pick up on several things to later identify the group of people.

They wore jackets with a local college’s symbol, and a few of them still had their part time job uniforms on. ‘Not only are they scum, they’re stupid too. It won’t take much to destroy their lives, and they handed me their information on a silver platter.’

But he wasn’t focused on that now. Kurapika instead shifted his attention to you. Just like you knew when he was about to snap, he knew when you were about to break.

“(Name)… you don’t have to keep up a brave face. What those people said was rude and uncalled for.”

He brought his hand to your face, gently wiping away the stray tears that fell down your soft chubby cheeks. “I’m sorry, (Name). Today was supposed to be a fun day out. Now it’s ruined…”

“It’s not your fault…” you said softly, leaning into his touch. “I was… getting tired anyways. We can hang out at my apartment for a bit instead, eat some snacks and watch a movie.”

Kurapika smiled, his eyes softening as he gave your cheek a light squeeze. “That sounds lovely. I much prefer time spent alone with you to days out anyways.”

————————

Kurapika was currently trying his best not to get hard as (Name) snuggled up with him on the couch, your head resting on his chest.

It wasn’t easy being in love with (Name) and not knowing if you felt the same. You were so sweet and affectionate, always wanting to be held and cared for, but he wasn’t sure if you wanted this attention from him alone, or if you were just this way with everyone.

“Kurapika, kisses…”

His head felt fuzzy and he could hardly move without the bulge forming in his pants throbbing, but Kurapika leaned down and peppered kisses on your cheeks and forehead. “Are you feeling any better now?”

You smiled, your chubby cheeks warm as you leaned into his snuggles. “Yeah… I feel very warm and happy right now.”

He traced circles into the soft flesh of your belly, nuzzling his face against your neck. “That’s a relief. I never want to see you upset, (Name).”

His warm breath fanned against your neck, his lips grazing your jaw. It made you feel funny, and your squirming didn’t escape his watch.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft… but with a husky edge. Kurapika traced circles into your thigh with the tip of his fingers.

You shivered, and that caught his attention. His eyes lit up before he smirked, gently groping your fat thigh. “Come on, if something’s wrong you should tell me, sweetheart…”

“Mmph… feels weird, Pika… when you get this close I feel all warm and fuzzy…”

He felt something warm spreading through his body, and when he began to subconsciously guide your hips over the bulge in his pants, the two of you both moaned in unison.

Kurapika was quick to slip your skirt up, his hand groping your soft, fleshy ass. Your panties were soaked, he could see the wet spot spreading as his fingers lightly ran over your clothed clit.

Every soft whine and whimper that left your plump lips had his cock twitching, begging for release. He wanted you to know how much he desired you, how badly he needed to be inside your pretty, fat pussy.

Although all he wanted to do was slip your panties to the side and fuck you right there, Kurapika was in love with you. He didn’t want his first time with you to be quick and fueled by lust.

So he scooped you up, much to your chagrin. You whined and complained, but he shut you up with a kiss to your forehead.

“Holding you in my arms is the highest honor. (Name)… I adore you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He laid you down on your bed, pinning your wrists above you head before kissing down your neck. “I want you…”

Your little plea for him made him bite back a groan. He could tell that you were getting restless by the way your hips bucked into his. You… wanted him.

“You already have me…” he murmured, your panties being tugged down with one hand while his lips met yours. “My body, heart, and soul, it all belongs to you. It has since the moment we met.”

The two of you shared a kiss as his tip pressed into you. He held onto your hand, letting you squeeze it as he entered you for the first time.

He was in heaven, nothing had ever given him so much pleasure before. Kurapika bit on his lip, trying not to cum on the spot.

“God, (Name)…”

He pulled back his hips and pushed back in, shuddering I’m ecstasy.

“P-Pika…”

He blinked, the fog of pleasure clearing from his mind. Tears were pouring down your burning cheeks, and he could see a bit of blood dripping from your warm cunt.

He was your first.

“F-fuck, (Name)..!”

Kurapika panicked, instantly leaning forward to check you over. You were sniffling, clutching onto his shirt tightly.

“J-just hurts a little… my first time…” you managed to get out through your sniffles.

Soft, sweet kisses were placed all over your face, and he nuzzled your cheek. “I’m so sorry, princess. I…”

You leaned into his kisses, nuzzling him back. “It’s okay… I know you’d never hurt me on purpose…”

The two of you lay there, connected in the most intimate way while you shared kisses and soft words of love. It was enough to make you blush, seeing how much he wanted you, how much he needed you.

The pain ebbed away into pleasure, and soon enough you were moving your hips, your eyes growing hazy. “M-mmm… can you..?”

“Y-yeah…”

He was panting too, hips stuttering as he tried his best to hold back for you. If anyone on this planet loved you, it was Kurapika.

The second his cock pulled out and fully sunk into you again, you both let out a breathy moan. It’s like the two of you were in sync.

He buried his face into your neck as his hips rutted into yours, only the sounds of skin agaisnt skin and whines of pleasure could be heard in that dark room.

“I love you… god, I love you so much (Name)…”

The next day, dark hickeys would litter your neck, but tonight it looked so tender and pure… he had to cover it in his marks so everyone would know you were taken.

Each bite, each suck had you crying out, pain mixing with pleasure. His grip on your hips was like iron, keeping you in place so he could pound into your pussy until you saw stars.

Sometimes you forgot just how strong he was. Kurapika had always been gentle with you, never in a million would he ever think of hurting you on purpose, but tonight he left unintentional bruises everywhere he touched you.

He just had to have you as close as possible, your bodies pressed against each other so closely that you could feel his heart beat against your breast.

All he could think of was cumming inside of you, the thought of your belly heavy and swollen with his young flooding his mind.

And by the end of the night, he was curled up around you, his finger tracing circles over your belly. Both of you were exhausted, but happy.

“I love you too, Kurapika…” you whispered, resting your head on his chest as you drifted off.

His fingers gently played with your hair as he lost himself in thought. If he wanted you to be happy and safe… he would have to get his hands dirty.

Kurapika never wanted you to be sad again… and he had an idea on how to help.

——————

The sound of something big being dragged across the floor could be heard, along with a wet THWACK!

“P-please! We’re sorry, we d-didn’t know she was important to you! Just let us go!”

Kurapika dragged a man by the hair and threw him against the wall, his form slumping before falling on top of the various other bodies that were piling up.

“Let you go? No… I couldn’t risk that. How do I know you wouldn’t just find another person to take out all of your anger on?”

Kurapika held up a piece of paper, waving it in the man’s face. “Your mother abandoned you when you were just a child, and now you take out your mommy issues on women that look like her.”

The picture revealed a plump woman in her thirties that had the same body type as you.

He tilted his head towards a girl that was tied up, her head still fuzzy from being drugged. “Does your girlfriend over there know you’re a serial killer? You spend your days harassing random women on the street, then bring women that look like your mother home to torture them before they’re slaughtered.”

Kurapika stabbed the man through the leg, causing screams to tear through the cool night air. “You’ve gotten off easy for domestic abuse charges because your father is on the police force… but I’m not sure daddy can save you now.”

He stepped on the man’s face, taking a drag off of a cigarette. You hated him smoking, but right now he needed it. “I was going to just beat the shit out of you until you got the message… but seems like letting you back on the streets is just going to put my princess in danger.”

After putting the cigarette out on the man’s eye and listening to him scream, Kurapika brought down his foot again and again until all that was left was a bloody mush.

By then, the woman had begun waking up, and screamed. “N-no, don’t hurt me!”

The blonde turned, blood splattered across his face. “Wasn’t really planning on it.”

He pulled out a gun and shot her, then sighed. “See? An instant death.”

Fire spread across the area, the smell of burning skin and flesh alerting people nearby. Kurapika had already fled the scene, and was washing off at a hotel.

Killing wasn’t something he enjoyed… but if it was for you, he could do it. He never wanted you to be afraid or in danger, and anyone who made you cry was unforgivable.

You were sitting on the couch, watching a movie when he got home. It was late, but thankfully you were still up. After all that killing, he needed the comfort.

“Pika, you’re just in time! I just started this new movie, I heard it’s really good!”

He smiled, plopping down next to you and leaning his head in your shoulder. You smelt so good and your body was warm and inviting, he couldn’t hep but bring you close and bury his face into your neck.

“You know I would do anything for you, right (Name)?”

His scarlet eyes looked up at you, and for a moment… you were strangely uneasy. They seemed almost… crazed.

“W-what do you mean?”

But as quick as you spotted it, his eyes were back to normal. “Nothing, nothing.”

He pulled you into his lap, inhaling your scent. “What’s the movie about?”

You knew Kurapika had violent tendencies… but in your heart, you wanted to believe he was a good man, and would never hurt anyone. He was your lover, your best friend… but god did you worry about him.

As the two of you went to sleep that night, he held you as close as possible, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“I would kill for you, you know… and… maybe I already have.”

You weren’t sure why he said that all of a sudden, but he stayed completely calm, as if it was the most normal statement in the world.

“Kurapika… you don’t have to do that… please… don’t.”

You caressed his cheek, looking into his soft brown eyes… and decided to ignore his words.

“Goodnight, love.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he held your face in his hands. “(Name)…”

Before he could say anything else, he sighed and smiled fondly at you. “… goodnight.”

As you slept, a strange possessive feeling crept into his heart, and his grip tightened until you whimpered in his sleep.

He would kill for you, end anyone that tried to hurt you or take you away…

Kurapika kissed the top of your head and promised himself that he’d toss his morals aside if it meant keeping you safe.

Anything for you, his princess.

525 notes · View notes

moronkombat · 1 year

Note

asking for a friend, can i get hcs for Bi-han, Kuai Liang, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden with an s/o with big boobs? im a simp for all these men..i mean what??

Just the very sight of you is enough to have Bi-Han collar feeling far too tight around him. His eyes watch the dips and curves of your body and his mouth is watering

In public, he remains restrained in a physical sense. But his eyes? Those eyes hunt you like a tiger that stalks it prey, waiting for that perfect moment to pounce and consume

When in private, he wants your clothes off quickly. He's pulling, he's tearing just to see more and more of you. Those hips should not be concealed. Those pillowy breasts must be held in hands most calloused

During sex his lips always find your chest. If he goes unchecked, there he will remain for hours, suckling and licking. He can't get enough of your breasts, often finding himself rather lost within them

Someone help this man. He is sweating under his collar, practically burning up when you walk by. It's perverted, it's wretched how his eyes follow the swing of your hips. Yet, he won't look away

Try as he might to avert his gaze, there is just something about your hips that make his mind spiral. He thinks thoughts most vile and the blush on his face so evident.

When he has you alone, he is worshipping your body. Warm hands will run up your thighs before hands sink into fleshy hips. He cannot get enough of you

Prefers when you ride him so he can see your breasts move and feel your hips come colliding down on him. No thick walls in the world can conceal the moans you bring from him

Now Kung Lao likes to talk big game act cocky but the sight of rounded hips and shapely thighs? His mouth is suddenly dry and his jaw is slack

Definitely tries to flirt with you often but gets distracted by what he's seeing and ends up turning rosy pink. So much for his expert flirting skills

You bring him the closest to heaven when you ride him. His hand covers his eyes, the mere sight of you undressed and exposed overwhelming him

He's panting, cursing, telling you how beautiful you are and how good you feel wrapped around his cock right now. Kung Lao wants to keep you there forever but he is provided no such paradise as pleasure overtakes him

Even a god is subject to temptations and Liu Kang's temptation is you. Your curves live in his mind. The swell of your chest. They are all consuming

Glowing eyes scan you up and down and Liu Kang thinks for a moment much longer than he will admit what it would be like to bury his head between your thighs

When the two of you are alone, he does not need to wonder that anymore. That is the first place he drawn to and there he will remain

He cannot help but thrive when your thighs press against him. The God of Fire would moan low and wanting. He never wants to leave your shapely thighs

While sight may not be his strongest sense, he still can feel you under his palms. Honestly, Kenshi prefers it that way.

Sento can provide him help to receive your imagine which Kenshi does well to remember. Though he seems to prefer tracing you likeness with you

When in bed, he wants to feel absolutely all of you and so he does. For hours he will comb your body with fingers over each and every one of your curves

Loves to take you from behind so he feel you ass clap against his hips. Kenshi is practically drunk off how your skin ripples with each thrust

Raiden is flustered, overly so. Those hips, your breasts...would his hand even be able to encompass them. He isn't sure but his thoughts are daring him to find out

Tries not to look at your chest but they are practically staring at him. Raiden will hold eye contact with you but ever so slowly his eyes drift to your cleavage and suddenly his throat is tight

In the privacy of the bedroom, his hands are trembling, shaking when he gets to touch you for the first time. Raiden is overwhelmed with your curves and he is not sure where he should touch first

Don't worry though, he'll find his rhythm and once he does, there is no part of you left untouched. It's going to be quite the long excursion for the two of you

Havik loves your curves. He sees them as more flesh to carve and paint with crimson

He does not hide his attraction to your hips and breasts. Havik will happily grope onto you, whispering in your ear just how much he wants you

And Havik will take you hard and unforgiving. Teeth bite into your rounded flesh again and again, covering them in bruising bite marks

You end up painted and well carved and Havik is sated but for how much longer? Well your curves are ever tempting

Really enjoys your curves probably more than he should but who is going to stop him? Definitely not you

Takes great pride in seeing you. He proclaims to everyone how curvy and attractive you are and how you are his partner and no one else's

Loves when you ride him. It is the the best way to see all your curves and features in action. One hand is on a hip while another gropes and plays with your breast

Smirks the whole time, vocalizing just how attractive you look and all the atrocities he will commit to your body and so he does but you don't complain

You are simply enchanting to Rain. He wishes to worship your gloriously curved body in ways that are pure sin

Can't help but stare at you when you walk by nor can he avert his gaze when speaking to you. He wants you and he will not hide that

Spends much time glorifying your body when he has you alone. You are his goddess and he is the ever devoted apostle

Loves to grip onto your rear while he lays himself into you. He wants to feel your flesh mold and move under his fingers

2K notes · View notes

gutsby · 11 months

Text

Cherry Pie

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Warnings: NSFW. Corruption kink!!! Loss of virginity. Messy, unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Daryl puts your promise ring on his tongue while he eats you out and does it in front of someone else, in secret. Half-baked breeding kink and an indirect marriage proposal.

Love him or hate him, the man played to win.

Daryl was one of those few unflinchingly stubborn motherfuckers who never saw a challenge he didn’t like, or a game he couldn’t beat. The world at large was his personal sports arena, and everyone around him a rival. You suspected that was why, with his hands planted on either one of your thighs and a smile as wide as the moon shining bright above you two, you almost felt inclined to believe him when he’d said:

“I’m gonna pop tha’ cherry someday, just wait.”

You remembered staring at him in a mixture of confusion and disbelief, hardly computing the words he’d spoken.

“What’s a cherry?” you’d asked.

Daryl just grinned even bigger and dropped a kiss over your two, tightly knit eyebrows, grabbing your hand to hoist you back onto your feet. Then he’d led you back, promising to tell you everything in due time.

That was six months ago—and you hardly knew more about this wild, elusive “cherry” today than you did back then. The longer Daryl led you down this rabbit hole, the more you started to believe this whole thing was nothing but a sordid working of your friend’s imagination. Another sinister game you were destined to lose.

Presently, you squeezed his head tight between your thighs and gripped the headboard even harder, rutting your hips in the most obscene manner above Daryl’s outstretched tongue. You felt your whole body tremble with pleasure, and in a matter of seconds, that merciless, mind-numbing bliss came crashing over your senses.

Orgasms, you’d learned a little over a week ago, weren’t just the stuff of dreams but a real life bodily release. Ever since Daryl had made you privy to that secret euphoric source, it seemed you were aching for it all hours of the day; accordingly, you’d made a frequent seat of Daryl’s face and rode that wave every chance you got. There were moments you feared the man might suffocate between your thighs, but he came up smiling every time.

At length, Daryl happily lapped up the last drops of your arousal and hummed an appreciative note below.

You slid—or, more aptly, collapsed—down his body and brought your head to rest on his chest, panting in awe.

“You bastard,” you hissed.

“That good?” Daryl grinned.

“Surely this...oral fixation isn’t gonna last forever, is it?”

You tilted your head just in time to see Daryl swiping his thumb over his bottom lip before bringing it down to your own. Coaxing the digit between your lips and waiting for you to suck it, all wide-eyed and innocent.

“Mhmm,” he nodded, pushing his finger even further. Whether he was answering your question or simply urging you to take more of him, you couldn’t be sure.

Though you weren’t particularly fond of that unfamiliar taste in your mouth, you accepted it anyway and sucked on his thumb like you knew he wanted you to do. You even got the sense he liked when your eyes locked on his, so you did that too, just staring and suckling and feeling a bit like a fool. Daryl groaned and drove his finger even deeper, smiling when your throat convulsed around him.

He withdrew his hand and admired the strings of saliva that followed it. Then, with that same hand, he patted your head affectionately.

“Gettin’ there,” he said. Already sliding off your bed and heading toward the bathroom.

Getting where? You thought, almost forlorn at the sight of his retreating figure.

Daryl did this every time—lick, rub, and tonguefuck you dumb ‘til you came all over his face, then leave you sprawled out on your bed while he locked himself away in another room. It was bewildering.

He wouldn’t tell you why he left, or what he was doing while tucked away from your prying eyes, but you surmised it had something to do with the lump in his jeans. That zipped-up, bulging mass that always seemed to disappear mere minutes after leaving your presence, the “puffy” thing you’d prodded once or twice above the fabric of his pants. You ached to know what inhabited that space between his legs, and even more, what made it vanish so fast. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to suss out that those parts of him had something to do with the analogous parts on you, so it seemed you had only to feel yourself up to get a little closer to the truth.

You slipped a hand between your thighs and ran a touch down your slick, throbbing core.

You hardly knew what you were doing; you just wanted to learn more.

A shiver passed over your lower half as your fingers grazed a particularly raw spot, one you remembered Daryl calling your clit. It didn’t feel the same beneath your trembling touch.

Nothing did, in fact. You pushed a finger inside yourself and barely made it to the second knuckle before your walls started to sting.

What made Daryl’s tongue feel so good that wouldn’t work the same for your own hands?

An exasperated sigh shuddered through your chest, and your eyes started to close. You teased another finger at your entrance, hoping to simulate the same sensation of Daryl’s mouth, but you whimpered when it burned. You bit your lip, braced yourself, and stupidly ventured for a third, when something tore your attention away.

You jolted back in bed and shot a look to the side, where Daryl had your offending hand pinched between two fingers. You peered up at him and saw him scowl.

“’Fuck ye think yer doin’?” he snapped.

You bit back your nerves and surprised yourself with a quick return, spoken just as sternly:

“Touching myself, Daryl, what does it look like?”

You tried to yank your hand away, but Daryl kept it close to his body. Squeezed it even harder.

“I thought we talked about tha’,” he said, his voice annoyingly even, “We said ye weren’t allowed to touch yerself ‘less I was there with ya.”

You couldn’t help it. You pulled hard on your hand and pried yourself out of his grasp. Then you slotted it right back between your legs, eyes never leaving his.

“We haven’t talked about anything, Daryl. You won’t tell me a goddamn thing about this...thing of mine, or yours, or anything,” you said, flustered and unable to keep from repeating your words the longer you tried racking your brain of its limited vernacular.

You pretended not to notice when Daryl’s eyes drifted down your body, and the once-flat seam of his jeans started to stir. Didn’t spare a second glance when he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and seemed to waver, indeterminately, between two warring ideas in his brain.

In truth, he was debating whether to fuck you senseless right there on your plush, lacy sheets or else sit back and watch you try and piece yourself together, all misguided fingertips and muffled whimpers before his hungry gaze. And, if he were a little more honest with himself, he would admit he wasn’t just hungry but starved for your affections, seeing you splayed across the covers with your fingers dipped between your folds and fumbling around without the faintest idea of where to put them.

You’d been born and raised within the four walls of this post-apocalyptic community and hadn’t strayed an inch outside a second in your life. Folks like you, afforded the unique luxury of never needing to leave the asylum, simply had no reason to learn life’s dirtier dimensions.

You knew the birds and the bees and your mother’s ardent pleas never to let a man corrupt you down there if he wasn’t your husband, but you didn’t even know how that corruption came to be. You were pure, unblemished territory, blinking up at Daryl with the widest eyes of naïveté, and part of him couldn’t bear the thought of taking that away from you—not yet, at least.

Another part of him felt the urge to defile you in the worst ways imaginable, right then and there, with both your parents lounging obliviously downstairs.

While he fought every filthy-minded inclination in his body, Daryl took a seat on the edge of your bed. Averted his eyes from your fingers and swallowed.

“Hey.” He nudged you.

You flinched with the soft intrusion and opened your eyes to look at him.

Instead of finding your touch replaced as they normally would be, you felt your fingers pried from between your thighs and clasped in both of Daryl’s hands.

Then, gently, a touch trailed down your fourth finger. Daryl stopped at the thin silver band adorning its base and wriggled it between his own forefinger and thumb.

“Can ya tell me what this is?” he murmured.

You eyed him uncertainly before looking down at the ring yourself.

“A promise ring,” you answered quietly.

“A promise to who?” Daryl pressed.

“My— uh, my future husband.”

Daryl squeezed the petite metallic flower that was melded to the ring, pressing it between his fingers as if to prove a point.

“Gettin’ hitched any time soon?” he quizzed, a hint of a smile rising to his lips.

“No, but—”

“So you’ve got this hypothetical husband you’re promisin’ yerself to, hm?” Daryl plodded on, pretending not to hear you, “And that thing yer promisin’, it must be pretty important, ain’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and started to pull away, but Daryl made sure to keep your hand locked in place. When you didn’t answer, he pushed the question again—“Sumn’ real, real special, no?”—laced with a little extra venom in his words.

This time, you were the one to feign ignorance, opting instead to shuffle back in the sheets and play stupid as you retreated into the comfort of your bed. Daryl loosened his grip, but not before he’d plucked the ring from your finger. Then he mirrored your movements and made his way up your body, proceeding to plant his hands on either side of your head on the pillow.

Somewhere in the mix, he’d taken your ring between his teeth. He displayed it proudly above you with a smile.

“C’mon, hon. Tell me,” he coaxed between gritted teeth.

When he sensed your tight-lipped pout wasn’t about to budge, he took the ring out of sight and seemed to move off of you. As it was, he simply slid down your body and toward your parted legs. You tensed.

“Daryl,” you started to plead the moment he’d descended between your knees. He was already getting comfortable.

“It’s a very simple question, Y/N,” Daryl murmured, words a bit more distorted than usual.

You couldn’t bear the sight of him teasing you there but also seemed unable to tear your gaze away. You pulled at his hair, helplessly, and had only to beg him not to play these idiotic games. Unfortunately for you, Daryl’s competitive edge had taken a hit, and he was too taken with the thrill of the challenge to heed your wishes.

His mouth had moved dangerously close to your center. You could feel each gentle puff of his lungs fan across your folds.

Then, incredibly, you watched his tongue emerge from his mouth, and, instead of delving right into your heat, he let it rest between his lips, flashing something light and shiny on its surface.

Your ring.

This sick fuck.

“Give it back,” you snapped, clamping your legs over his stupid, smirking head.

One of Daryl’s palms pushed flat against your stomach, pinning you to the mattress so you couldn’t squirm out of reach. Perhaps you should’ve fought back, but in all honesty, you were too entranced by the sight of his tongue to think much else. A whimper caught in your throat the second he made contact with your wet, swollen core.

It seemed Daryl had maneuvered your ring over the tip of his tongue and was dragging a line up your slit. Pushing the metal petals of the flower against your clit, drawing soft, placid circles, and looking you dead in the eyes all the while.

Then he dipped below to your dripping hole and pushed the ring inside of it.

Daryl lifted his head and licked his lips.

“Wanna tell me now?” he grinned.

Your mind was buzzing a million miles per minute, spinning so fast you feared you couldn’t speak, but somehow, you managed to stammer out:

“Chrysanthemums.”

You bit your lip and watched him wait for you to catch your breath. You could scarcely collect your thoughts fast enough to finish.

“The flower— i-it means fidelity, or something. Mom says the ring’s supposed to be a sign of my commitment to my husband.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows.

“And ya know just what yer committin’ to the lucky bastard?” he asked.

You shook your head. Honest, this time.

In response, Daryl moved a finger to your entrance and dragged it in a gentle circular motion, careful not to disturb the ring he’d pushed inside.

“Tha’s it,” he said, his voice almost lowered to a whisper, “Tha’s the spot, honey.”

He locked eyes with you once more, and suddenly, you understood. All the apprehension and dread, distress, and foreboding decorum surrounding that floral token. Every thinly-veiled euphemism from your mother and father and the soft, assuaging delicacies crafted to fall on deaf ears. The answer was with you all along and somehow the furthest thing from your comprehension.

“My...cherry?”

Daryl nodded and chuckled. He took the ring back on the tip of his finger and started to push it farther inside of you.

“Your virginity,” he said.

When you flinched at the feeling, Daryl straightened himself up and brought his other hand to rub your thigh. Sitting across from you now with a touch of concern straining his features.

“I won’t really touch it ‘less ya want me to,” he mumbled, eyes flickering between yours in earnest.

“You can,” you said softly, perhaps a little too quickly, “Just don’t...pop it, okay?” His previous declaration danced before your mind in flashing letters.

Daryl bit back a smile and assured you he wouldn’t.

The two of you were perched on your bed, seated face-to-face and staring down at the small space between you. Cautiously, almost, Daryl came to slide his finger further inside your body, and at the last you watched the whole thing disappear right down to the knuckle.

You waited. Daryl looked up to find your gaze, and you stared back, almost afraid to blink.

“I ain’t no doctor or nothin’,” Daryl began, slowly, “But yer cherry’s s’posed’a be up there.” He wiggled his finger to punctuate his point.

“What is it?” you breathed.

That was a good question. Daryl sat and contemplated his options, how he might politely explain things to you. In the end, he settled on saying,

“Just skin, really.”

“Skin?”

“Yeah, uh, somethin’ called a high-men, I think. Just a stretch’a skin in the middle of yer...cunt, or whatever, and, uh, I guess it gets all tore up when the—” Daryl cut his speech short, cursing himself for getting so thick in the weeds of it without the slightest idea as to how he would explain that dreaded next part.

“Tore up when? Why?” Your eyes widened.

“No, no, not tore up or nothin’—I didn’t mean it like tha’ —I’m just sayin’ it gets popped. By a...a, you know…”

“I don’t know, Daryl, tell me,” you cried, your voice already starting to shake.

Daryl slipped his finger out of your heat, floral ring and all.

This was a bad idea, he thought. You were already halfway in a panic, concocting the wildest notions in your mind of what horrors lay ahead. Daryl ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“What pops the cherry, Daryl?” you pressed, trying to reign in your fear as you spoke.

Daryl peered down at the tiny ring atop his index finger and felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t going how he’d planned. When his eyes wandered back to yours and first caught a glimpse of the apprehension welled up behind them, he knew he couldn’t drag this on any longer.

“Just a...guy’s, uh, private parts,” he said at last.

“The puffy stuff?” you returned promptly.

Daryl nodded, almost charmed by the term you’d given his penis, were he not so humiliated by this disaster of an anatomy lesson.

You heaved a sigh of relief and fell back on the bed.

“Thank fuck!”

Daryl shot you a curious look. Before he could ask what on earth you meant by that, you supplied him with an answer, rejoining,

“Thought you had to stick a knife up there or somethin’.”

“Why would I do that, dumbass?” Daryl’s nostrils flared.

“You tell me! You’re the one saying you’d tear me up,” you giggled.

Oh, I would, Daryl thought reflexively. He regained his composure in an instant and chided himself.

“Shit gets messy, tha’s all I meant,” he said.

You were quick to sit up again, the fear in your eyes shortly supplanted by intrigue. Inching closer to him.

“Show me how,” you grinned as your hands skimmed toward the seam of his jeans.

“Show you what?”

“How your puffy stuff works,” you said, exasperated.

“It’s a penis, Y/N!”

Daryl shot up from the bed before you could lay a finger on his crotch.

He knew you wanted to know but wasn’t quite sure you’d be pleased with what you’d see—your understanding of the male form, he’d come to realize, was even cruder than your knowledge of your own. What if you got one good look at his love gun and fled for your life?

If you were to handle it any worse than the way you’d reacted when he’d first told you his mouth wasn’t just good for talking, he’d have his work cut out for him.

At length, he grasped his belt buckle in one hand and kept your promise ring tucked snug on the other.

“If I show ya, y’promise not to scream or nothin’?”

You stood—or, rather, kneeled—at attention on the edge of the bed and nodded.

“Promise.”

“A’right then.”

Daryl had never felt so exposed, or vulnerable, taking a garment off his body. Each time he’d unbuckled himself and shoved his jeans and briefs down before, it was never to strip himself completely—just to free his cock and give him space enough to rut into whatever woman was willing to share his bed for the night. This was pushing his pants down his legs and actually stepping outside them, standing stock-still on the floor and hoping, foolishly, that you’d like the sight in front of you.

Fortunately for him, you loved it. Or, at the very least, seemed engaged.

Your lips unconsciously parted as the outline of his length came into view. You sucked in a breath. With your pupils blown wide and your mouth hanging open, drool liable to spill out any second, Daryl reckoned you looked a bit obscene. He liked it.

He was palming himself over his briefs in gentle strokes, taking his damn sweet time as he took a couple steps closer to you.

“Now tell me what this is called,” he said, watching you ogle every inch.

“A cock,” you answered.

Daryl almost choked on his spit. What happened to “puffy stuff” and all the rest of your innocent paranyms? Where the hell did you learn the word—

“Cock?” Daryl repeated.

“Yeah, like a rooster.” Smiling sweetly up at him.

“Who taught ya tha’ word?” Daryl’s voice broke out a little harsher than he intended, such that your smile came to fade, but he quickly repaired it with a brush of his knuckles on your cheek.

“You did, Dar,” you said, at the last.

“Me?”

“You’re always grabbin’ your junk and tellin’ people to suck your cock, I just figured—”

“Ah. Right.”

Daryl made a mental note not to get so shitfaced when you were around. And maybe educate you on the subject of blowjobs in a more delicate way, at a later date. For now, his focus was just on showing you his penis and hoping you wouldn’t run screaming.

By the looks of it, though, he didn’t suspect you’d have that problem. You quickly resumed your perch on the edge of the bed, staring and salivating at his clothed erection like it was the finest thing you’d ever seen.

Except you hadn’t seen it yet. Daryl was just then starting to hook his fingers under the waistband of his shorts and pull them down, all while watching for your first reactions.

When you saw small tufts of hair stemming from the base of his abdomen, you felt relief flood through you—thank goodness he had those too—and then the place underneath it was…something else entirely. The two of you shared similar patches of hair, and that was about it. In the place of a broad, empty plane of skin, you found a thick, reddish appendage. It was strange. The further Daryl tugged his briefs down his legs, the more you grew in your curiosity, ‘til the whole thing took you by surprise and snapped up against his stomach.

You saw the full length of his cock and almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“You wanna put that whole thing inside me?” you said without thinking.

That hadn’t been quite the reaction Daryl had been expecting, but he’d take it over shrieking and fleeing any day of the week. He eyed you with an unusually amused look and nodded.

“Whole thing,” he repeated.

You gave him one last skeptical look before nodding too, seeming to accept your fate. You scooted back in the bed and squeezed your eyes shut as you started to spread your legs in a supine position.

“Go on then,” you said, “Let’s get this over with.”

This time, Daryl’s amusement materialized in an outright laugh, and he came crawling up beside you in bed. Then he climbed on top of you and nudged your nose with his, ‘til eventually you opened your eyes again.

“That ain’t how it works, sunshine.”

You glanced down at the fiery pink, worm-like attachment poking up between your bodies and wanted to hide. Not so much because the sight of it frightened you but because you couldn’t fathom it fitting inside your body—and actually feeling good. You thought back to the words your mother had once used to describe that ugly, loathsome process of pleasing your husband and couldn’t imagine this was something any woman wanted to do. Maybe Daryl had had you duped all along to think any differently.

A swell of heat rose to your cheeks when Daryl dropped his hand between your legs.

“See— yer gonna spread these pretty things and let me go back down for a bit,” he said, already sliding toward the foot of the bed with a smirk, “Need ya nice and wet, a’right?”

You grabbed his arms before he could go any further.

“No,” you shook your head fiercely. Then, seeing the look of confusion on his face, adding, “I-I need you up here. With me.”

Daryl nodded in understanding. He kept his fingers brushing light against your inner thigh and looked you deep in the eyes.

“We can do whatever y’want. ‘S’all up to you, hon.”

He paused to bring his hand back up to your line of vision, holding your tiny ring on the tip of his finger. Wordlessly, it seemed, asking for your permission. You regarded the thing for a few seconds or more, while he watched you, and eventually, your gaze flickered back to his. You left the band where it was.

“Keep it,” you murmured.

“Honey, I can’t—”

Daryl was already starting to pull the ring off in protest, but you stalled his hands. Grasping them, momentarily, and holding them between you two.

“I want you to have it,” you said, smiling, “Want you to wear it right here.”

You reached up and tugged the thin silver chain dangling from Daryl’s neck. He looked down, confused.

You didn’t give him the chance to say another word. Reaching behind his head for the little metal clasp, you unhooked it swiftly and took the necklace in your hands. Made quick work of the ring and slipped it onto the chain, eyed it for a moment, then held it back up to him. Before Daryl could blink, you’d moved to re-secure the clasp around his neck and pulled the spindly metal strand to the front. Now the necklace hung a bit heavier on his chest with the weight of your ring strung across it.

Your name just then started to bubble to the surface of Daryl’s lips, but you leaned in and kissed him before the sound ever reached you.

“Yours,” you mumbled, kissing him softly.

Daryl kissed you back and held you tight. He stifled a groan when your legs came to wrap around his waist.

“Ye sure, honey?” he breathed, hardly able to string words together as the blood surged straight to his cock.

You giggled at the sights and sensations your new position afforded you, feeling Daryl’s throbbing member against your heat and seeing him fight every urge to push it forward. This felt easier, somehow, just pressed to each other’s bodies while your limbs tangled together in the sheets.

Daryl kissed your forehead. Lowered his hips so his swollen, leaking cock came to rest between your folds.

Instead of recoiling or contorting your features in a fearful wince, you moaned. You felt your body move against him and spread your arousal up and down his shaft. Eyes half-hooded with pleasure, you rolled your hips and raked your fingers down his back, and Daryl swore he could’ve cum from the sight of that alone.

You didn’t know what the hell you were doing; you just hoped it was something he liked.

When he reached for your chin and brought you in for a kiss, deeper and more desperate than you’d ever seen before, you felt a twinge of pride—closely accompanied by a wave of desire. You opened your mouth in an effort to moan again and were welcomed instead by Daryl’s slick, roaming tongue.

There was a strange sort of pressure between your legs. Something prodding you softly, keen to breach the threshold of your entrance but stopping short every time. You glanced between your bodies and saw Daryl gripping his cock like a vice down below.

“Honey, I— fuck,” his voice broke off in a moan, skimming the head of his cock down your slit, “I don’t wan’ this to hurt.”

You placed a kiss on the side of his mouth and nuzzled your nose against the stubble residing around it.

“It won’t,” you whispered. In truth, you were clueless.

Daryl shook his head, straining with the weight of his body above you. There was something he’d missed, something he needed to tell you before the two of you took things any further. It seemed that somewhere along the line, his mind had hardened to an opaque wall of lust, and he couldn’t retrieve a single thought. All he could do now was peer down into your wide, glossy eyes and pine for you, all impulses escaping him but the singular urge to make you his.

“I want you,” you said, softly, “all the way inside me.”

You took the tiny metallic chrysanthemum dangling above you—your promise ring that was presently hanging from Daryl’s chain—between your lips, and sucked it in a little. Remembering how much he loved to watch you take things on the tongue and roll it around in your mouth, you did just that and kept your eyes locked on his all the while. You slipped the tip of your tongue through the ring, just as Daryl had, and brought it right back into your mouth. You moaned at the taste, your juices still coating the band.

Your silent invitation wasn’t lost on Daryl in the slightest. In a second, his lips were back on yours, snagging the ring between your two mouths in a hot, frantic kiss, and the pressure at your core jumped to new heights as the head of his cock split you open.

Daryl hadn’t been with a virgin before. He thought the process of “breaking” one in and popping the cherry, so to speak, was meant to be taken literally, so he shoved himself in to the hilt in one forceful thrust.

“Fuck!” you said in unison, for two drastically different reasons.

He seemed on the brink of orgasm and you, the brink of tears, clawing at his back and trying not to cry.

The second Daryl saw your agonized expression, he panicked and pulled right out, but the force of the friction only amplified the pain. You clutched the sheets beside you and tried to stifle your whimpers, suddenly fearful for your parents’ hearing.

“Fuckin’ A,” you hissed, “I thought we were going slow!”

“I-I’m sorry— I thought that’s what I was s’posed’a do.”

“You said pop the cherry, not stab it to death.”

In spite of the ache inside you, you managed a playful look up at him and even giggled when he started flooding your face with little kisses. ‘I’m sorry’s tumbling just as profusely from his lips, repeated over and over ‘til you were begging him to let up and get back between your legs already.

Daryl eased himself down more carefully this time. He cradled your head in his arms and seemed almost loath to push himself inside you again. It wasn’t until you nodded your assent that he stirred his hips at all, taking a painstakingly slow approach to breaching your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock graze your entrance. Rub lightly up and down your slit to collect more of your juices.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” Daryl growled, overwhelmed by the warmth of your arousal pooling around his cock. Remembering his position, however, he refrained from going any further.

“Is it wet enough?” you murmured.

“Uh-huh,” Daryl panted, gripping the sheets beside your head to keep from moving before you were ready. Then, softly, “I’ll be gentler this time, I promise, baby.”

You spread your legs a little wider and nodded. Dug your heels into his lower back to try to ease him in. Daryl readily aided your efforts and started pressing the head of his cock to the edge of your tight, aching hole.

He couldn’t have penetrated you any gentler if he tried. In spite of how wet you were, there still came a sting, and you seized his forearms the farther he pushed. Only this time Daryl was all eyes, watching and waiting and looking you up and down like another inch of his length might tear you in two. He sponged wet kisses up and down your jaw and hoped the brush of his lips would come as a welcome distraction from whatever discomfort you were suffering below.

Moreover, he found that talking you through it helped loosen your muscles. Whether you were aware of it or not, your were clenching hard on his cock, scarcely taking him more than an inch and unlikely to allow him any further if your walls stayed this rigid. Daryl started stroking your hair.

“So good f’me. So nice an’ sweet takin’ this cock,” he said, tone as tender as it had ever been.

You grimaced at the intrusion of another inch and held the back of his neck between your two hands even tighter. Daryl lowered his head to kiss you again.

“Sweetest thing I ever seen.” He pulled away to marvel at you, all flushed cheeks and quiet sighs.

It was clear you were just trying to survive with your consciousness intact, too focused on breathing and easing him in to think much else, so he nudged your chin to mumble even more quietly, “S’all gonna be okay, hon. I’m right here for ya.”

“Oh, I feel ya here. I know,” you quipped between labored breaths.

Before you could venture a smirk, you felt your walls start to pulse. The gentle throb of your warmth beckoned Daryl further into your cunt, and the two of you moaned at the sensation.

Your eyes shuttered closed, while Daryl’s drifted down below.

“Sonovabitch,” he said in a breath.

His gaze came to a stop and stayed glued on one small, absurd sight in particular: a bulge along your stomach.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing until he withdrew his length a little and saw the swell follow his movement. He watched the outline of his cock protrude from your belly, ran his fingers over the mound, and rutted his hips again, this time feeling it move under his own hand. Daryl was beside himself.

He placed his palm over the spot and pressed hard. He thrusted back and forth and heard a string of expletives sound beneath him as your eyes snapped open.

“Fuck, Daryl,” you whined, “What is that?”

“Cunt’s barely able to keep me in, I’m pokin’ out yer belly.” Daryl would’ve chuckled if he weren’t so violently aroused.

You threw your head back on the pillow and moaned. This new, added pressure above your stomach somehow made things better for you, like a spot inside was getting just the kind of touching it needed. You squirmed against Daryl and felt him bottom out inside you.

The two of you were watching it now, forehead to forehead—Daryl’s fingers spread across your tummy and the heel of his palm digging deep in that mound, your bodies making wet, squelching sounds again and again, and your pussy, for the first time, swallowing him whole. Daryl quickened his pace to an almost vicious cadence and brought his free hand to cup your face.

He jerked your head even closer, fingers knotting tight in your hair, “See this?”

You were barely able to nod as a knot of pleasure was just then starting to form in your stomach.

Daryl wasn’t having it. You felt his nails dig a set of white, angry crescents in your neck as he pulled your hair even harder.

“Big girl words, darlin’— use ‘em.”

You yelped when he yanked your head up to meet his gaze and shook you with a particularly brutal thrust down below.

“I see it!” you shrilled.

Daryl’s hand slipped from the back of your head and took your face in one pinch—almost crushing both cheeks and squeezing your lips in a ridiculous pout to look up at him. Then he smiled, sweet as ever, and placed a light kiss on your mouth.

“Are you a— a woman of yer word?” he asked.

His thrusts continued at breakneck speed. You whined.

“Huh?”

“Keep promises ya make?”

Daryl smiled even wider as he watched you come unraveled before his eyes. One hand placed on your stomach and the other still gripping your face, he made his merciless rounds and savored every last throb of your walls as he pounded you into the mattress. He knew those whines, could sense that that hold on his cock wasn’t just for show. You were close, and dangerously so.

You could scarcely speak above the buzz in your ears but managed to answer in the affirmative.

“Good,” Daryl cooed in your ear, “It’s settled, then.”

If you weren’t mere seconds from your release you would’ve told him that you couldn’t quite understand him with his head so far up his ass. The man was a Grade A prick when it came to telling riddles and senseless tales at the most inopportune times, but this one really took the cake.

Fortunately, Daryl proceeded without requesting any further input from you. He just pistoned his hips, pressed on your belly, and squeezed your cheeks even tighter as he continued on in a casual tone,

“Gonna cum all over this cock?”

You moaned and said you would.

Your legs tightened around Daryl’s waist as he groaned above you and slammed into you even harder.

“Gonna be my good little girl?” he growled, dropping his hand from your face to rub circles on your clit.

You shrieked and swore you would.

Daryl continued to rut his hips and nudge you closer and closer to the cusp of your release, eyes never leaving you. With each ruthless thrust, you felt the knot inside you double in size and send tremors straight down through your thighs, and the only thing keeping you grounded in place, it seemed, was Daryl. He grinned.

Then he leaned even closer, forced your legs even wider, and fucked you faster than he ever had before,

“Gonna be my good little wife one day?”

His words had barely registered before something inside you burst, and you went moaning, writhing, screaming on Daryl’s cock as your orgasm tore through your body. More powerful than any feeling Daryl’s tongue had wrought from you before, this was pure, primal ecstasy. You feared you might actually draw blood from his back with the slash of your fingernails down his skin.

Your body fell limp in the bed. You would’ve liked nothing more than for Daryl to keeping moaning and pumping in your blissful, fucked-out state, but it seemed the man had plans of his own. To your surprise, he jolted out of you a moment later and seized his cock in one hand, wringing it out in the roughest, most slipshod fashion. Daryl let out a long, protracted moan and jerked himself over and over.

Ropes of a milky white fluid sprayed your stomach.

Your eyes widened at the sight, as did Daryl’s. Though his grew not for want of understanding but rather realizing that thing he’d forgotten to tell you earlier.

Babies.

“Shit,” he hissed, already lowering both hands to wipe the stuff off your belly.

You were frozen in place and eyeing the foreign goo like it was the most frightening thing in existence.

“W-What the fuck is—” you said, only to be cut short.

This time, both of you seized with horror as a knock sounded on your bedroom door. Daryl, actively caught cum-handed, had little more to do than dive under the covers while you flailed your limbs and tried to collect every last pillow around you.

Your duvet was thick. Pillows and plush toys aplenty. You could only hope Daryl would keep his long legs bent at the knee and his two feet from sticking out at the end of the bed. Your eyes darted to the door as it opened.

“Hi, mom,” you chirped.

“Hey, pumpkin.”

Your mother paced the few short steps into your room and toward your bed, a warm smile on her face.

“Boogeyman keepin’ you up?” she teased.

You reckoned you thought of Daryl a little more fondly than that, but your mom wasn’t too far off-target.

“All night,” you answered.

Your legs shuddered under the sheets as Daryl nudged your red and fucked-raw pussy with his nose. Clearly not amused.

Then, as your mom had long been accustomed to do, she reached out for your forehead and brushed your hair from your face. Planted a kiss at the top of your head.

“Well tell him to knock it off, because you’ve got a big, big day tomorrow,” she said, crossing her arms as she stood off to the side of your bed.

French lessons from one of your father’s friends and supper club with the girls. Riveting stuff.

You opened your mouth to say something in reply, but your mother was evidently keen to continue,

“Now I know you’ve got a lot on your plate—”

You stifled a whimper when the nose that Daryl had used to brush against your cunt was presently replaced by his tongue. Licking a calm, lazy strip up your slit as the rest of your mom’s speech reached you in a garble.

Slyly, you lowered a hand to the head of hair that was occupying the space between your legs and yanked a clump of it. Silently begging Daryl to cut the bullshit games before both of you got caught.

Daryl would do no such thing. He continued to flick the tip of his tongue across your heat before closing his lips around your clit, sucking gently.

“—missing for a day at least. Maybe even—”

You swallowed and nodded your head, trying to shield your mother from the fact that you and your newly-popped cherry were getting the tonguebath of a lifetime under the covers. Daryl had somehow managed to bring a hand up to your heat and was currently pumping his middle and ring fingers in and out of your hole at a brutal speed.

It wasn’t until your mom said one word in particular that either of you perked up and stopped what you were doing.

“—Dixon—” your mom babbled on until you broke in,

“Who?”

“Daryl Dixon. Went MIA and his brother’s worried sick. Found his crossbow in our backyard a little while ago, was just wondering if you’d seen him.”

Your stomach twisted. Daryl’s fingers stalled inside you.

“No ma’am, I-I haven’t,” you squeaked.

Daryl bit your thigh as if to say, “Liar.”

“Alrighty then, just checkin’.” Your mom clasped her hands together and turned on her heels, “He should turn up sooner or later. Get some sleep now, sweetheart.”

The door closing behind her was like music to your ears.

As soon as it shut, Daryl threw the duvet off and licked his lips in a smirk.

“You fucker!” you bit.

“You liar,” he sneered, climbing back on top of you quick. Careful to avoid the half-dried puddle of semen on your stomach.

“Hey, you never told me what this w—”

“Cum. Stuff I’m gonna shoot in yer belly, not on it, when yer good ‘n ready to have my babies,” Daryl grinned.

Ready? For babies? Your mind was still reeling from the absurdity of your previous predicament, heart all but beating out your chest, and this man remained totally unperturbed. Talking about breeding, of all things.

“There will be no babies had between us, Daryl,” you snapped, “That’s a husband privilege, and like you said, I’m not gettin’ hitched any time soon.”

The smile from Daryl’s face didn’t falter. He just leaned forward and gave you a look as if to say he knew better.

“Thought y’said you were a woman of yer word,” Daryl seemed to taunt as he ran a hand up your calf.

You didn’t bother to swat it away, just shot him a glare and muttered, “I am.”

“You are?”

Daryl moved in, a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you could say another word, you watched him hook one thumb in the ring that hung from his neck. Slid it back and forth across the chain and observed your eyes in wordless amusement as they followed its gentle path.

“You said—” Daryl started.

“Did not,” you returned.

“—and promised you’d—”

Your cheeks grew enflamed with a fierce, angry blush. There was no fucking way he wanted you to—

“Save it for your husband,” Daryl said, still flashing that shit-eating smile as he brought the ring between his lips once more, “And you gave it to me.”

This was undoubtedly the most deranged marriage proposal you’d heard in your life.

You rolled your eyes and reached for your promise ring now pinched between his teeth, ready to yank it off the chain altogether, when another intrusion sent you scrambling for the sheets.

Your bedroom door opened for a second time that night—this time to reveal your mother and father at the threshold of your room, stepping in without a knock.

“Hey pumpkin, I—”

“Shit.”

You ducked behind Daryl, and Daryl chucked the last droplets of cum off his hands in a flash.

You looked at him, he looked at you, and your parents stood terrified, staring at you both.

When Daryl’s gaze flitted up, you saw his jaw slacken considerably as his eyes fell on your father for the first time. The next thing you knew, your ring was trembling out of his mouth, his whole face draining of color. He swallowed, almost seemed to choke on his spit as his throat tightened up, and suddenly he was speaking, stammering, quietly, pupils blown wide in pure horror:

“Mr. Grimes, it’s not what it looks like.”

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