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thequietkid-moonie · 2 days ago

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Ayaka Kamisato, Sparkle and Ruan Mei making their stoic crush smile for the first time!

Making their stoic crush smile for the first time

[ SCENARIO ] [ Ayaka, Sparkle, Ruan Mei ]

[ Genshin Impact ] [ Honkai Star Rail ]

A cute prompt with such cutes ladies!! Thanks for requesting it dear annon <333

First time writing for Ayaka 🎉 she is so cute

Ayaka Kamisato

Despite the fact that Ayaka is part of a powerful and respectful clan she is really kind and just want to have friends, she has some troubles to relate to others out of her duties but she likes meeting others, what she wants the most is have new friends and yet falling in love had caught her off guard

It isn't easy for her fall in love, she has to know you first but for her to develop a crush after that is pretty quick, it will take her a while to recognize her own feelings and it something that will make her too flustered and shy, this is the first time something like this happens to her so of course she is excited but at the same time insecure

Even so, she accepts quite quick her feelings and even tries to act on those feelings, more than trying to win your heart she tries to open up and show you who she truly is, she wants to get to know you more and more, besides with her crush for you also comes some admiration (and, honestly, you being quite stoic just increase her admiration)

Ayaka spends as much time as posible with you and she never stops smiling, despite feeling quite shy she just can't help but want to be closer and closer, she simply grows closer to you and open up when she feels like is a good timing to speak her heart out, so everything just end up coming naturaly, even when she can be quite organized and even have plans to what to do whenever you hang out she had never do something like make a plan to actually make you smile, so when it happens she is speechless

Ayaka freeze on her spot because she is a little shocked when she sees you smiling for the first time, and not only that but also you are smiling because of her, it take her a moment to get out of her shocked state just to become incredibly flustered in a second, suddenly her heart is raising and her cheeks feel like burning, even she has to look away in an attempt to calm down and yet she will not be able to get out of her mind the imagine of you smile

This event is something that will be stuck in her mind for several days, and every time she remember it again her cheeks immediatly flush bright pink, she is unable to stop herserlf from being excited because maybe that means that she has a chance with you, still she tries to remember herself to don't force it to happen again, just enjoy the memory and hope that she can make you smile again in the future

Sparkle

Sparkle is quite misterious and mischievous, when you speak to her you never know if she is speaking the truth or if she is just planning to play another prank, she is a masked fool after all. She doesn't mind at all meeting all kind of new people because at the end the only thing that matters to her is her own entretaiment

Falling in love with you was something quite unexpected but it isn't disappointing, after all this new feelings just means more to Sparkle's entretaiment, she is incredibly aware of herself and her surroundings so noticing her feelings for you is quite simple and not accepting them isn't even an option

Sparkle's crush just lead her to be closer and more interested on you, clinging on your side or vanish for a while to get to know about you in diferent ways, her feelings are really sincere but that doesn't mean she can't find joy on them and even play some jokes and pranks, besides the fact that you are stoic just make this even more entrataining

Sparkle will take as her own goal make you smile (or at least show any kind of emotion), she is a masked fool after all, she has a lot of trick under her sleeve, she has not shame on constantly bugging you to play games or even putting pranks on you, even going as far as disguise as yourself in an attempt to make you laugh

Despite being her whole goal the moment she finally manage to actually make you smile Sparkle is surprised for a brief moment, she simply stares at you at the moment she finally managed to make you smile before chuckling and teasing you about her victory, saying over and over again that she have win because she have finally made you smile and even praising herself for it

She will never admit it out loud but this actually makes her feel quite flattered, and not just that but it also bring her some pride (even more if you have laugh, even if it was a small laugh that is still her victory), the memory of your smile is something that she will keep close to her heart and it even makes her smile at herself everytime she remember it, still now that she have finally achive it she is constantly trying to make you smile and laugh more and more, even joking about how she can easily make you smile

Despite everything her feelings for you are sincere, so even if at the end her feelings aren't reciprocated she will not suffer since the memory of your smile would be enough

Ruan Mei

Ruan Mei has always had dificulties with understanding the feelings and relating to others, she has being taught that her work and studies are the most important thing so getting closer to her to be considere being close is quite dificult, and for her to fall in love its even a little more dificult but definetly posible, but even when she fall in love it will take her a long time to realice what she feels for you

In the meantime she tries to understand her sudden change in mind, suddenly she is thinking more on you, interested on what you have to say and even more she wants to be close to you! So, at the end, she decide to follow those desires to see what she can find out, to see to what will lead her

The fact that you are so stoic isn't much of a problem, she doesn't really understand feelings after all so even if you would express them frecuently doesn’t make much diference, she prefere to speak things clearly and directly, and the more time you two spend together the more she gets used to simply not seeing you change your expression

Since Ruan Mei doesn’t even fully understand her feelings everything she does that be an attempt to get closer and win your heart are just with the excuse of following the wishes she has to try just find out what exactly is what is making her feel and act like this, so when she end up making you smile one of those times you two were hanging out is something that caught her off guard

Making you smile wasn't her intention nor goal but now that have happened it make her feel warm and happy, it will be this what will make her finally realice that what she is feeling is love, she has a crush on you. It still take some time for her to fully understand her feelings but this have made it more clear

Even if she tries the memory of your smile simply doesn’t leave her mind nor that happy feeling she had the moment you smiled at her, even so she doesn't mind it, not only she likes feeling it but also give her the change to start a new investigation to see how far this feeling can lead her

There is a small desire for those feelings to be reciprocate but for now she has more than enough just be able to be at your side and enjoy this new little reseach, besides, with this new project of hers now she is more curious about seeing you express more and more, hopefuly she will be able to make you smile again someday

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #ayaka kamisato #ayaka kamisato x reader #ayaka x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sparkle #sparkle x reader #ruan mei #ruan mei x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video game x reader

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the-kr8tor · 1 day ago

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Loki Variant! R just spinning around in circles in my head rn😔

The first time Hobie had seen you in your ice giant form, it had been on accident. And, it wasn't an entirely pleasant discovery.

He was humming as he roamed through the many halls of your palace, searching for you since it was about time that your meeting with your council should have ended. The orphans running throughout the halls made him smile, and he had to duck before a ball hit him in the face. As he was nearing your meeting room, he could hear something faint just outside the door. Was someone... crying?

Frowning, Hobie opens the door before freezing up at your shout of alarm.

"What are you doing? Leave!" You yell harshly as you point a shaky (blue?) hand towards the opened door, body turned away from whoever had come in. Now concerned, Hobie softly closes the door behind him and approaches you with all the quietness of a mouse. Just when he reaches out a hand to touch you, to take your hand in his, you flinch alway. Like you could feel him behind you, like his very touch would sear you.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong...? Look at me..." He mumbles softly as he tries to get you to face him, his head following yours every time you turn your face away. Your voice is shaky as you speak, as if you're terrified.

"No... You can't see me like this." See you like what? What could be so horrible that you wouldn't allow him to look at you? Clicking his tongue, he moves too fast for you to react, side stepping his way to finally face you properly. Hobie's eyes widen slightly in surprise at the dark blue of your skin and the piercing crimson hue of your eyes. However, he's more concerned about the tears dripping down your face and the unmistakable shame gleaming in your eyes. When he reaches out to touch you again, you back away, shaking your head and letting out an unamused laugh.

"You can't touch me. Not when I'm like this... I could hurt you."

"How could you hurt me?" You scoff at his question and scrub the tears off your face, shame and hatred seeping into your every word. You tell him of your true heritage, a frost giant who was left to die as a baby when Odin killed everyone on Jotunheim. Told any who questioned his taking of you that he was "saving" you from a "dangerous" realm of war. Odin only really took you in as a trophy, what you had learned from the man when you finally dethroned him. If anyone were to touch your skin when in your ice giant form, they could freeze to death. That this form only takes over every once in a while when the stress is truly too much for you.

"I'm hideous..." You say with a choked sob, clenching your eyes shut. Hobie's heart just about breaks at the sight. Because, how on earth could you see yourself as anything but breathtaking? You were gorgeous, exquisite. Even now, in this beautiful form you seem to hate so much.

"Come now, love. You're beautiful-"

"Beautiful...? I'm a monster, Hobie!" You snap with gritted teeth and red eyes flaring. There's a chill in the air as your voice grows louder and louder, and Hobie can't stand it. He wants to hold you close and never let you go as the words keep pouring from your lips. But each time he inches closer to you, you step further back. The air grows colder, and he can start to see his breath crystallize in the air.

"I'm the monster that parents tell their children at night, the demon that haunts every Asgardian's nightmares! I was never supposed to sit on that throne! I-I shouldn't even be here... Thor should be here. He was the one who everyone looked up to! He was supposed to be the savior! He was supposed to live! He should've lived, not me-"

Hobie had heard enough, grabbing your cloak from off of the nearby chair and wrapping it around your body before pulling you into his embrace. You were shivering and trying hard to step back, away from his arms. But it was okay. You weren't hurting him. You could never hurt him

"No more", Hobie mumbles as he pulls you both down to the ground with you sitting in his lap, your head wrapped in the cloak and laying on his shoulder. He could feel your tears soak through the cloak and his shirt. Or, perhaps they were his.

"No more of that. Everythin' that asshole ever said 'bout you, 'bout where you came from... It's all bullcrap. Your brother loved you, knew you'd take good care of everyone, yeah? Would he really entrust everythin' you both love to someone he thought was a monster? You're not a demon, lovie. You're a freakin' Rockstar with a heart so damn big and full of love for everythin'."

He grips you tighter, rubs your arms and back through the layer of clothing between you two. Your heart aches at his words, at the sincerity behind them. The chill in the room slowly subsides, and the blue of your skin slowly fades back to your normal skintone. Your thundering heartbeat slows in your ears and the tears soon cease.

"You fought too damn hard to free your people. You deserve to sit on that throne, and you deserve to live. And anyone who thinks otherwise can fuck right off. I'll bash their heads in..."

The last few words spoken make you chuckle, your hands moving to pull down the cloak from over your head as you look up to peer at him. There are dried tear streaks on his face as he looks down at you, chocolate brown eyes warm and glittering with such soft care just for you. Hobie lifts a hand to gently brush away the lingering tears in the corner of your eye with a gentle finger, touch as soft as silk. Then he leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. Then to your nose. Then another on your cheek. Hobie rains little kisses all over your face, adorning you with his love and affection. He doesn't stop until you giggle and try to wriggle from his grasp, until he thoroughly makes those bad thoughts flit from your mind. And, although he knows he can't make those thoughts of guilt and unworthiness leave you completely, he'll do his damn hardest to make sure it takes a long while for you to feel this low about yourself ever again.

YESSSS MORE LOKI VARIANT! R

Bestie you're feeding all of us with all these marvel aus 🤭

Omg i was wondering when r would turn into their frost giant form! This did not disappoint 😭😭😭 the hurt/comfort is hurt comforting me 😭

I love the fact that Hobie is practically living in asgard!

#ask answered #hobie thoughts #🫶🫶🫶#Loki variant! reader

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seitmai · 1 day ago

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Many thoughts...

Love at first sight, it was. But hell, love wasn’t enough, was it? What did he know about raising a little girl? What did he know of walking that tricky line between being overprotective and being too blasé, of giving you space but making you feel safe?

just that he is questions this, shows how much he cares about her 🫶🏻

Cecilia had stopped over a lot in the beginning, had soothed his fears. Had reassured him that love was enough, that he was doing a good job. He was kind and well-meaning, and you had been a smart kid who became a smart woman, and on the balance, he would have agreed with Cecilia and said he did alright.

Awesome job right there👏🏻

For the first time in his life, Rhett truly considers his future. What his life may look like in five, ten, twenty years. Will he always wake to grey mornings that sit on his chest like a stone? Will he become bitter and mean, the way his father has despite having a wife and sons and a granddaughter?

Uff he truly doesn't have the best role model..

Then, on top of the annoyance, another layer of shame. Of course you run. The death of your parents left you with that wound, the inability to handle hurt in a healthy way. You flee and tuck yourself in a corner, tend your wounds alone. It’s a flaw, but it’s understandable why you do it.

Very understandable reaction especiallywith that backstory..

Rhett had been your best friend, and for the briefest summer, he was your lover too. He should have been the one person to help you work through that fear. Instead, he only cemented it further.

💔💔💔

It’s easy to blame Rhett when Wyatt eats dinner alone each night. When he runs a vacuum over the floor of your bedroom, keeps it dust free like you may turn up any day and take your place back on the family ranch. When he studies the row of family photos on the mantle, sees his sister’s face and feels like he’s failed her in the care of her daughter.

He misses her so much 🥺

But Wyatt doesn’t confront Rhett at the Double Deuces. He doesn’t seek him out at all. Rhett comes to him.

👀

“You never fucking think, do you? Jesus fucking Christ, my sister…her husband…they were killed by a fucking drunk driver, and you have the fucking balls to…you asshole…you fucking piece of shit. You—” The kid seems to track Wyatt’s meaning. His bleary eyes clear a fraction and fix on where Wyatt’s fists wait, eager to offer some payback for his sins. Rhett nods, as if to himself, and he takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes, opens them. He struggles to stand, staggers a little, but eventually finds his feet.

Wyatts anger is very understandable and valid, but it seem to penetrate even Rhett’s drunken state

“Make it her.” It comes out one slurred word, makeither, and Wyatt’s anger cools by the barest degree. He unclenches his fists, holds them looser. “What the fuck you trying to say?” Rhett coughs, sways. Coughs again, then enunciates, clarifies. “Make it hurt. Make sh…sure. Make sure it hurts.” Wyatt’s fists uncurl more. “Now what are you—” “Am. Piece of shit. I am.” The kid sways more but takes a wide step, braces his legs wide to keep himself upright. “Y’right. Imma piece a’shit.” He wants to be hurt because it’s the only thing he knows, he thinks. Like I used to.

💔😭💔😭💔

Maybe Wyatt only fell into fatherhood because of a tragedy, but he gets more of it right than he will ever give himself credit for. He faces the kid, and when the kid comes swinging at him again, spoiling for a beat-down Wyatt will never deliver after all, Wyatt only opens his arms and lets Rhett step into them. The kid struggles for a beat but he’s drunk, and he seems tired down to his soul. It only takes a moment for the kid to stop struggling in Wyatt’s bear-hug, then sag against him in exhaustion, then weep in dry, barking sobs that feel like they’ve been building up for his entire life. And Wyatt knows exactly what sort of pain the kid is bleeding out because it was his pain, and his sister’s too, until they both fled their unhappy childhood home and made a happier one here on this ranch.

Wyatt gives Rhett the hug he himself needed years ago 😭🥺

Wyatt is never sure the right way to tell you that Rhett Abbott is currently crashing with him. A month passes and then another, and he starts to feel guilty that the kid who broke your heart has been living down the hall from your childhood bedroom, sitting at your kitchen table. That he parks his truck beside yours, and that he’s caught the kid—more than once—lingering by your bedroom door, lingering by your truck, like your ghost might manifest if he stands still enough.

That's a tough spot..

I can’t be mad about it, you write back. How many times did you look the other way when I brought a stray home?

I guess you deserve a stray of your own. Might want to take him in for his shots though. :-)

You got a heart of gold, kiddo, Wyatt texts you, and your response is immediate.

That's so cute, they have such a beautiful relationship 🥰

Wyatt grins when he reads your email, then glances over at where Rhett is sitting on the couch, watching TV. The kid does act like a stray; he cringes the barest bit if Wyatt moves too suddenly or too close to him, but like a stray, he relishes the comfort of a warm home, food in his belly, and even the tamest praise.

He really is a stray 🤭

Got it from my uncle.

🥹🥹🥹

Wyatt won’t know it until years from now, when he’s an old man and Rhett has grey in his own hair, but this stretch of time—the two men working and living together—is when Rhett starts to learn how to be a man. That Wyatt is the gruff but kind, slightly awkward father-figure Rhett always needed.

I'm so glad Rhett gets the chance to experience this kind of relationship and space to grow 🥹

Heart of gold, indeed. It makes Wyatt tear up, first from so much pride it feels like his chest might burst, then from that knife edge of grief that his sister isn’t here to see what a force for good her daughter turned into.

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

“Nah. I don’t know if hate is something she can even feel. Dislike, maybe. Disappointment. Not hate.” “She should hate me. I deserve it.”

He is so hard on himself 🥺

“I didn’t mean to hurt her, you know. Sounds fucking stupid, but at the time, I didn’t even realize what I was doing to her.” Rhett glances over at the man, fixes his eyes back on the floor. “Looking back, it felt like I was sleepwalking through that summer, and now I’m awake and see all the damage I did.” “Damned if I know. But take it from me, kid. I had a girl when I was your age, and I fucked it up completely. Even once I realized how badly I fucked up, I was too proud to try and set it right. Now it’s been years and it’s far too late. So you gotta try, so even if she never forgives you, it’ll set right in your chest that you did everything you could.”

I love their honest and open conversations 🥰

Your uncle glances over at Rhett, nods in his direction. “We’re doing okay for a couple of guys.”

They truly are 🫶🏻🥹

You laugh, and the sound makes Rhett smile – when was the last time he heard it? It draws another laugh, which makes Rhett laugh, which makes you stop and ask your uncle if Rhett is there too. “He is,” Wyatt admits. “We’re watching the football game.” There’s a beat of silence from you that seems to stretch out forever but is probably only a second or two. “Merry Christmas, Rhett,” you say, and Wyatt hesitates, then tilts the screen so Rhett can see you and you can see him. He almost doesn’t want to look but he can’t help himself.

🥹🥹🥹

“In that case, Uncle Wyatt, work him into the ground,” you joke back, and Wyatt turns his phone back to him this time, and Rhett is left with perhaps a bit more than a sliver of hope. He leans back on the couch and thinks that yes, maybe he can salvage this after all. Maybe trying his best will be enough.

I'm sure it will 🥹🫶🏻

I absolutely loved this story and the relationship Rhett and Wyatt built, truly beautiful 🥰

Kind of a Sh*thead

(Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

CW: Angst; family-type healing; allusions to and threat of violence; bit of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5256

AN: This was originally requested by @elegantmusicdragon from a long-ago Christmas prompt list: "trying to hide their sadness during the christmas celebration" from the sad christmas prompts? Definitely angst...maybe with a little hope at the end?"

AN: This is the next piece in the "Mending Fences" miniseries, found here.

It will shame Rhett in the future, how long it takes for him to realize what has happened.

That night at the bar, he sat waiting for you: nursing a beer, his eyes on the door, ready to get a little loose with you and maybe head out to the open range and fool around.

Then Maria appeared in front of him. Like magic. Like an angel spirited back to Wabang and right in front of him. It threw him off completely, his world tilting sideways He found himself dazzled by the fact that the girl he pined over for years was suddenly in front of him, smiling, laughing, touching his arm and squeezing his bicep while he subtly flexed it under her fingers.

It wasn’t until last call that Rhett surfaced for a moment, the spell lifting for long enough to remember he was supposed to meet you, yet you were nowhere to be found.

She must have been held over late at work, he reasoned, and even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie.

It will shame Rhett in the future, but it will take months before he really feels that shame. He’ll find out you left early for school, but by then, he will be entirely wrapped in the magic of Maria, dumb with lust and love that he thinks is finally reciprocated. He'll send you a handful of texts, bland little things that you read but don’t respond to.

Months later, when Wabang is sliding fast to a cold winter and Maria is gone again, disappeared as quickly as she appeared, Rhett will feel shame.

And you’ll be long gone.

*****

Wyatt wishes he knew what he was doing. Hell, he’d be happy for an inkling.

When his sister and brother-in-law died, he didn’t even hesitate to step up and take his niece in. No brainer. Blood is blood, but Wyatt loved his sister something fierce, and taking you in was like holding on to a part of her even if she was gone.

Didn’t hurt that Wyatt loved you for you. That he had loved you from the first time his sister set you in his arms, a bundle only a few days old. You’d set your wide eyes on him and blinked sleepily, then puked up a torrent of milk on him that reeked something fierce.

Love at first sight, it was.

But hell, love wasn’t enough, was it? What did he know about raising a little girl? What did he know of walking that tricky line between being overprotective and being too blasé, of giving you space but making you feel safe?

Nothing about this feels alright, though.

Wyatt always guessed it was Rhett Abbott who left you stranded at that hotel when you were a senior in high school. Little fucker skulked around that entire summer, scampered away like a cat with a lit tail when he saw Wyatt coming. Something had happened between the two of you.

When you came back to Wabang finally, you took up with the little fucker again, and Wyatt thought maybe he had been unkind. Ungenerous. He tried to be nicer to Rhett, but the kid barely ever mets his eyeline.

What the hell, Wyatt thought. The Abbotts can be a squirrelly bunch. As long as he doesn’t hurt her.

All those years ago at the hotel, Wyatt was never sure who it was that left you stranded and tear-streaked. This time, though?

You confirmed it that evening when you got home, eyes unseeing as you charged past him, thundered up the stairs, started packing. When he confronted you, you burst into tears and spilled the entire sorry affair.

You and Rhett, hanging out all summer. You in love, and Rhett…not. Not with you, anyway.

Wyatt wasn’t stupid. When you said hanging out, he could guess what you meant.

Seeing his niece hurt like that made him see red, but he has a modicum of maturity, which means he bides his time in most things.

*****

Maria’s been gone for months.

You’ve been gone for longer.

Winter in Wyoming is no joke. Wabang gets less snow than other parts, but the wind cuts marrow-deep, and the days are short, grey affairs. The holidays could be a break from the doldrums, but Royal has been on a tear lately, lighting into Rhett for every little thing, so Thanksgiving, then Christmas are tense and joyless.

He sends you texts. Little one-liners, asking how you are, saying he misses you. He tries to feel you out, but you leave him on read and never respond.

Once, he gets blisteringly drunk and tries to call. You don’t pick up, and he doesn’t leave a message.

By now, the shame has settled into him and made itself at home.

He can guess that you came by the bar that night. He can guess that you saw him and Maria, and that’s what caused you to flee. Layered on top of the shame is an annoyance with you and your knack for running. He may be an asshole but you’re a child to run and hide when shit gets tough.

Rhett had been your best friend, and for the briefest summer, he was your lover too. He should have been the one person to help you work through that fear. Instead, he only cemented it further.

*****

March. The leaden skies start to take on some blue, high up in the atmosphere. The sun burns a little warmer. The barnyard thaws into a swamp, and Wyatt has to handle the anxious animals, pawing and snorting and half-mad from a winter of cabin fever.

March is a tough month, though, because you call and tell him you aren’t coming back to Wabang for the summer. You got a coveted internship with a specialty vet hospital in the city, and while Wyatt knows it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, it’s far easier to blame that fucking asshole Abbott boy.

He’s not irrational about it. He knows he has to let you fly and trust you’ll return. Vet training is a long process—it’s not like you went off to Cheyenne for a handful of bookkeeping courses. He knows, deep-down, you would have always left for your schooling.

Still, that fucking Abbott boy has built up a tab, in Wyatt’s eyes. March is when that tab comes due.

-----

He knows the boy drinks at the Double Deuces. It’s common gossip how he overdoes it and either gets ornery with the Tillerson’s or pukes himself silly in the parking lot. There’s whispers of the fights between Royal and the boy, how the elder Abbott is tired of bailing out his youngest son, though no one would ever accuse Royal of having any patience, especially where Rhett is concerned.

If it were anyone else—any other dickhead young buck—Wyatt would chuckle in sympathy. He used to do the same when he was younger. He knows what the Wabang drunk tank looks like. Hell, maybe his name is still there—he scratched it into the pea-green paint of the wall decades back to commemorate his first overnight stay.

But Wyatt doesn’t confront Rhett at the Double Deuces. He doesn’t seek him out at all.

Rhett comes to him.

It’s a Saturday night, and Wyatt is lazing in front of the TV, watching the recaps of the week’s basketball games. He’s half-asleep when he hears the heavy, scuffing tread of boots on his porch, then a thumping fist at the door.

When he peeks out of the window to see who it is, it’s the fucking asshole. Rhett sways unsteady on his feet. Wyatt opens the door, and he can smell the reek of cheap beer and brown liquor. When he peers out farther, he can see where the fucking asshole parked his truck, half in the driveway and half in the yard, the tires sunk deep in the soft spring turf.

“You drive here like that?” Wyatt asks, though it’s obvious.

The kid nods.

Wyatt sighs, scrubs his hand over his jaw. “Tell me you came from next door. Tell me you were drinking at home and not out on the roads fucking loaded.”

Rhett stares at him, his eyes bleary and blood-shot, his blinks slow and deliberate. “Came from t’bar,” he slurs.

“Fucking prick.” Wyatt breathes it out.

His vision wavers for a moment, the rage that courses through him is so hot and sudden. He moves towards the kid just as Rhett sways towards him, and in a blink, Wyatt finds his hands on him, his sweat-dampened t-shirt twisted in his fists. This close, the beer fumes make his eyes water, and when Wyatt studies the kid’s face, he sees blank stupefaction.

“You fucking little prick.” He pivots, turns, hauls Rhett away from the front door, down off the porch. He half-drags, half-carries him, and once they are on the soft grass of the front yard, Wyatt shoves him away.

“Stupid, selfish. So fucking selfish.” The rage feels good, like a narcotic in his veins. “You could have killed someone, driving like this.”

“I didn’t…” Rhett sways on his feet, struggles to get his balance. “Didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t t-think—”

Wyatt is on him again, his hands firm on Rhett’s chest as he shoves him in earnest, sends the kid stumbling back on his ass. “You never fucking think, do you? Jesus fucking Christ, my sister…her husband…they were killed by a fucking drunk driver, and you have the fucking balls to…you asshole…you fucking piece of shit. You—”

But he can’t even finish. His sister and brother-in-law, your parents. Years ago now, but the pain is still fresh, a keen edge of a knife blade that takes his breath away. It was after a rodeo, a random Saturday. One stupid fucking decision and Wyatt lost his family, you lost your parents, and the rest of the world had the bad taste to keep on going.

There’s a roadside memorial on the road out of Wabang that marks the site of the crash. It makes that knife blade of grief twist in Wyatt’s gut every time he sees it.

Anger—rage—is such a close neighbor to grief. Grief is something one has to feel, but anger? That’s something to embrace, to lean into. To do.

Wyatt advances on Rhett, his big fists opening and closing as the kid struggles to get back on his feet. Wyatt wants to beat the shit out of him, wants to see him bruised and bloodied on the ground: for hurting you years ago, for hurting you more recently, and now this. For taking his life and the life of anyone else on the road into his own stupid, selfish hands.

Rhett manages to find his knees, and he kneels in the grass but can seem to get no further. Wyatt towers over him.

“Get up,” he orders. His voice is low, deadly, and his tone must penetrate the booze-fog because the kid tilts his head up and looks at him.

“Get up,” he repeats. “Get up and face it like a man.”

Rhett only manages a dumbfounded, “huh?”

“You wanna drive a big truck like a big man? Drink at the Double D’s like a big fucking man? You wanna fuck around with my niece and break her fucking heart like a big man? So stand up and take what’s coming to you like a man.”

The kid seems to track Wyatt’s meaning. His bleary eyes clear a fraction and fix on where Wyatt’s fists wait, eager to offer some payback for his sins. Rhett nods, as if to himself, and he takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes, opens them. He struggles to stand, staggers a little, but eventually finds his feet.

“Make it her.” It comes out one slurred word, makeither, and Wyatt’s anger cools by the barest degree. He unclenches his fists, holds them looser.

“What the fuck you trying to say?”

Rhett coughs, sways. Coughs again, then enunciates, clarifies.

“Make it hurt. Make sh…sure. Make sure it hurts.”

Wyatt’s fists uncurl more. “Now what are you—”

“Am. Piece of shit. I am.” The kid sways more but takes a wide step, braces his legs wide to keep himself upright. “Y’right. Imma piece a’shit.”

As quickly as Wyatt’s rage came on him, it flees him just as fast. He sees it just as clear as day, how Rhett Abbott ain’t a man. He’s just a boy playing at it, fucking up as he goes. Wyatt knows as well as anyone the sort of father the kid has, Royal Abbott is no model of what a man should be.

The kid standing in front of him is just a hurt animal: hurt by his own father, hurt by his own behavior because he has no idea how to not take out his hurt on others.

He waves his hand at the kid, a dismissive gesture, and he starts to turn away. He is halfway back to the house when he hears the kid coming for him, feels the weak glancing blow of the punch that has no aim or power because the kid is too drunk.

He wants to be punished, he thinks as he turns back around to face Rhett. He knows Royal is hard on his youngest son, can guess that the kid’s been knocked around plenty. His own father…well, he keeps that buried in the past, but sometimes it pops up like a bad penny. Like now.

He wants to be hurt because it’s the only thing he knows, he thinks. Like I used to.

It only takes a moment for the kid to stop struggling in Wyatt’s bear-hug, then sag against him in exhaustion, then weep in dry, barking sobs that feel like they’ve been building up for his entire life. And Wyatt knows exactly what sort of pain the kid is bleeding out because it was his pain, and his sister’s too, until they both fled their unhappy childhood home and made a happier one here on this ranch.

“Christ almighty,” Wyatt says after the kid calms. He doesn’t let him go—he only gets an arm around his shoulders, and he leads him inside.

No sense sending him home to his father. He’s here now, so he might as well sleep it off on the couch.

-----

It’s less than a month before Rhett returns. Maybe a handful of weeks later, the kid turns up on Wyatt’s step, sheepish. Looking small.

Wyatt will never be clear exactly why Rhett and Royal fall out so terrifically. Who can say? The Abbotts can be squirrelly fucking assholes, back to Royal’s father and probably even further back, but Rhett finds himself kicked out with nowhere to go.

He takes the couch for a night, but the next day, Wyatt thrusts some fresh sheets in the kid’s arms and directs him to the guest room down the hall. Past your bedroom.

“Might sleep better in an actual bed,” he tells the kid, his voice gruff.

“I’ll be out as soon as I can.” Rhett’s ears burn red in shame. “Just gotta line up a place.”

“No rush.”

“Seriously, I’ll—”

“I got plenty of room. You ain’t putting me out.”

-----

Every time you call. Each Facetime. Wyatt wants to say something and doesn’t.

Wyatt ends up taking the coward’s way out: he sends you an email. Keeps it short and sweet, apologizes for not saying anything sooner. He alludes to the situation between father and son, but clarifies that Rhett is in no way forgiven for how he treated you. It’s just that the kid needed a soft place to land, and he had the ability to help, so he felt it was his God-given duty to do so.

But I can ask him to leave, if you want, he writes. If it makes you uncomfortable. You’ll always be my first and top priority, kiddo.

It takes you two days to reply, but that means nothing. You have a brutal schedule and often go radio silent for stretches of time. When you do reply, it makes Wyatt smile.

I can’t be mad about it, you write back. How many times did you look the other way when I brought a stray home? I guess you deserve a stray of your own. Might want to take him in for his shots though. :-)

You got a heart of gold, kiddo, Wyatt texts you, and your response is immediate.

Got it from my uncle.

-----

Through the summer and autumn, the two men fall into a rhythm. It isn’t so bad living with the kid, once he starts to get his sea-legs under him. Once he starts to feel like the bottom won’t drop out. Rhett puts in an honest day’s work on the ranch, and Wyatt pays him. The first time he presses money on the kid, he tries to push it away, embarrassed at what he thinks is more charity on top of the charity of room and board…

“You work for me, you work for me,” Wyatt said, blunt. “Means you get paid by me. Take it or leave.”

There are lessons embedded in their days working the ranch. The lessons ease Rhett out of the fog of his life, the strange liminal space of being in his early twenties but still just a kid.

When Rhett royally fucks up a stretch of fencing, ruins a day of work. Wyatt only grunts, shakes his head, then claps Rhett on the back.

“You can either take the time to plan out a job, or plan on doing the job twice,” is all he says, and he guesses that Royal would have belted his son into the dirt for such an error.

When Wyatt tasks Rhett with a simple rewiring job in the barn, replacing some light fixtures, and the kid has no idea where to even start. He spends half the day sweating about it, a sick feeling churning in his stomach, until he decides to throw up the white flag and admit he has no experience working with electrical fixtures.

“Well, hell, kid. Why didn’t you say something?” Wyatt jerks his chin towards the barn. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

When at the rodeo, Rhett is tossed from the bull within seconds, a humiliating display. Afterwards, his body bruised but his ego far worse off, Wyatt only chuckles at him, says life will throw you off like that sometimes and it’s the getting back up that shows character.

“You got back up,” he tells Rhett. “That means something.”

“Means I didn’t want to get trampled,” he grumbles.

“Still means something.”

-----

Always, though, there’s the specter of you.

Wyatt catches the kid standing in the doorway of your bedroom sometimes still. Peering in at the time capsule of your stuff: the clothes you’ve left behind, the framed photos, the beat-to-shit stuffed bear on your bed.

Wyatt mentions you in passing, but he never brings up that long-ago night at the hotel or your sudden flight from Wabang the summer before. He guesses Rhett already feels terrible all the time, so why bother bringing it up and make it worse?

The kid eventually broaches the subject all on his own, just as winter descends on Wabang again. It’s been over a year since either of them have seen you in person, though Wyatt Facetimes you at least once a week.

Rhett makes himself scarce during those calls, but Wyatt’s always had the impression he’s not far off, maybe straining to make out your voice through the wall.

In early December, you break the news that you aren’t coming home for the holiday break. Wyatt would suspect that Rhett might be the reason, but your eyes practically glitter with excitement as you talk about a massive stray animal sweep you’ve helped plan, a Christmas-into-New Years take-to-the-streets movement to find and rescue as many street dogs and cats as you can. You’ve been working with local Girl Scouts to build feral cat cold-weather shelters, and you’ve been raising money and donations, and you’ve built a strong foster network, and local clinics are ready to spay and neuter and administer vaccines—

When Wyatt breaks the news to Rhett later, though, the kid sorta deflates, and that’s when he brings it up himself.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbles. “She’ll never come back if I’m here.”

“Not true.” Wyatt goes to the refrigerator and snags two bottles of beer, then hands one off to Rhett. He settles in his easy chair and studies the kid. “You know she loves animals. She’ll come back eventually.”

“She hates me.”

“Nah. I don’t know if hate is something she can even feel. Dislike, maybe. Disappointment. Not hate.”

“She should hate me. I deserve it.”

And then it spills out, one clipped sentence at a time. The entire history of you two, from best friends in childhood to passing acquaintances to an awkward moment in a hotel that Wyatt now knows was not actual sex but just some fooling around that ended in a cruel words. When Rhett gets to the part of the story about your summer together, Wyatt holds up a palm, says, “yeah, don’t want the details at all,” and Rhett slouches against the couch and sighs.

Wyatt chuckles sadly. He knows the feeling. He has his own hurt women in his past, experienced the same sort of heartless sleepwalking.

The kid shakes his head and continues. “Wasn’t worth it. Maria, I mean. I don’t even know what I saw in her.

“You were thinking with the wrong brain,” he tells Rhett. Wyatt may have no lost love for Maria Olivaries, but he’d admit she was a pretty gal. He could see why the boys went a little stupid around her.

“Wasn’t thinkin’ at all.” He says your name, a sigh in his mouth, then adds, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Look.” Wyatt sets his empty beer bottle aside, leans forward. “You gotta try to make it right with her. How you square it up is up to you. Maybe she’ll forgive you, maybe she won’t, but you gotta make an honest try at it.”

“How?”

“Damned if I know. But take it from me, kid. I had a girl when I was your age, and I fucked it up completely. Even once I realized how badly I fucked up, I was too proud to try and set it right. Now it’s been years and it’s far too late. So you gotta try, so even if she never forgives you, it’ll set right in your chest that you did everything you could.”

Rhett stares at him for a long beat, then nods. Then there’s a beat of glassiness in his eyes, near-tears, that Rhett blinks away almost angrily before he turns and clears his throat.

“I don’t mean to, you know. I don’t mean to be a piece of shit,” he says, his voice rough-edged.

“Aw hell, kid.” Wyatt heaves himself out of his chair and starts to make his way back to the kitchen for another beer. He stops in front of where Rhett sits, slouched over, and he lays a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit,” he tells him. “I just think you’re kind of a shithead.”

Rhett snorts. “What’s the difference?”

“First one is a lost cause,” Wyatt says. “Second one is just an idiot trying to do his best. Like most of us.”

*****

Christmas day at a bachelor’s ranch is not as sad as it might seem.

Wyatt brings in a tree but they only throw some lights on it to give it a bit of cheer. They build a fire in the fireplace, exchange no gifts, settle in and watch the football games.

Christmas dinner is a pot of Wyatt’s ulcer-inducing chili and a pan of cornbread. Cecelia drops by in the morning with a plate of cookies and a handful of gifts for Rhett, but it’s just the two guys for most of the day.

Until you call to Facetime your uncle.

You take Rhett unawares; you call off-schedule. You usually call in the evening but this is the afternoon, and Wyatt mutes the football game and take the call from the couch. Rhett starts to stand up, but the man waves him to sit back down. No need to hide out like he usually does.

So Rhett gets a full accounting of your life from you directly. He can hear your voice, and you sound like you have a sore throat. You tell your uncle about your big rescue mission, how it’s bitterly cold in the city but how you’ve saved so many dogs, so many cats, and how you can’t wait to head back out after you warm up a bit.

“I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas,” you tell Wyatt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Your uncle glances over at Rhett, nods in his direction. “We’re doing okay for a couple of guys.”

“You decorate a tree?”

“Just string lights.”

“The prettiest part of a tree anyway. What about dinner?”

“Chili.”

You laugh, and the sound makes Rhett smile – when was the last time he heard it?

“Happy Birthday, Jesus. Here’s some indigestion,” you joke.

“Good thing the kid went to Costco and got a gallon bucket of Pepto,” Wyatt jokes back.

It draws another laugh, which makes Rhett laugh, which makes you stop and ask your uncle if Rhett is there too.

“He is,” Wyatt admits. “We’re watching the football game.”

There’s a beat of silence from you that seems to stretch out forever but is probably only a second or two.

“Merry Christmas, Rhett,” you say, and Wyatt hesitates, then tilts the screen so Rhett can see you and you can see him. He almost doesn’t want to look but he can’t help himself.

You’re smiling at him. Not as broadly as you usually smile when you’re delighted in something or someone, but it’s a medium-sized one that touches the corners of your eyes.

It’s genuine.

It’s a place to start. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s not a door slamming shut in his face but a door left ajar by a fraction, and maybe Rhett can toe it open if he can just find the right way to try and square things up with you. It’s confirmation that he’s not a piece of shit, just kind of a shithead, and if he tries his best, maybe that will be enough.

“Merry Christmas,” he replies, and if you notice the gruffness in his voice, you don’t react.

“Thanks.”

Wyatt holds his phone there a moment, starts to turn it back to him, but Rhett blurts out, “be careful out there, okay?” so Wyatt turns it back.

Your smile grows the barest bit. “Will do.” A pause. “Don’t let my uncle work you too hard.”

A toe in the door. A sliver of hope. The fire snaps in the fireplace and the string lights twinkle on the tree, and Rhett may be an idiot just trying his best, but maybe that’s enough.

“I barely work at all,” he jokes. “Gotta leave plenty of work for you when you come back.”

It makes you chuckle. It’s not a laugh, but it’s something.

Maybe trying his best will be enough.

117 notes · View notes

quinloki · 22 hours ago

Text

Cone of Shame

Commission for @kazieai

Marco x fem!reader

Summary: Marco never loses his cool. Ever. It's infuriating how he can maintain calm ALL THE TIME. Not your best idea, but you decide to try and change that.

CW: edging, forced orgasms, bondage, dom/sub play, misuse of Zoan fruits, humiliation, knotting, begging, cream pie, praise, mdni

He never reacts.

It drives you insane. He’s a wonderful partner, and a great pirate, but that constant cool appearance. Those hooded eyes. The chill way he deals with everything and everyone, is immensely frustrating.

The fact that Marco can be railing the soul from you and still look so completely in control is getting to you. You love it, in your own way, but also you want to see him flustered just once.

Maybe twice.

You’ve tried flirting with him in front of the crew, but he turns it on you every time. You’ve tried slipping in lewd one-liners during semi-appropriate moments, and he just rolls with it. You’ve set up little surprises for him in what you do, are or aren’t wearing, and while his appreciation is apparent, there’s never anything more.

Now, here you are, watching him as he stands on the high deck, handing out orders and answering questions for the commanders for the day. Haruta’s helping him pass things out, and there’s minimal questions - no surprise, the boys have been doing this for years, everyone knows their role. The ritual is just habit at this point, and when everyone meanders away, Marco will stay there and enjoy his coffee.

He’ll take in details about the weather, make some notes for the navigation folks that they probably won’t need, but that will be appreciated. Navigation can never have too much data, but there are some who think Atmos controls the weather on the grandline, his predictions are just that accurate.

You decide to take a walk around the upper decks and cool your irritation before you greet Marco for the day. It’s not his fault that you’re struggling with what you’re struggling with, and there’s nothing he can do anyway. If you tell him it’ll just put him on his guard, for starters, and if it doesn’t then he’ll be humoring you, and you aren’t sure which would be worse.

Instead of cooling, however, you realize your irritation is just growing with each step. Just once, just once, just ONCE - you want to catch him off guard just once. Make his eyes go wide with shock, cause him to suck in a breath between clenched teeth, or even just see the blood flush into his face.

Just once.

By the time you come back around to the front of the deck you don’t even care what causes the reaction. The only thing you want to avoid is anything that would truly harm him, or you. Even if he can heal anything you could do to him, it seemed wrong to risk life and limb for your frustrations. It was mischief that compelled you, not cruelty or anger.

Mischief.

He was leaning against the railing, looking out over the deck. Nothing about his appearance gave any indication that he’d noticed you coming up behind him. The coffee was safely on the rail. His shirt was crumpled up enough that there was nothing except those thin shorts covering that perfect ass of his.

If you bit him there, he’d at least jerk, right?

Stepping closer you imagine the look of surprise on his face, but even as you draw near you’re certain it’ll never work. He’ll turn around, or say your name in some warning tone - his observation haki was strong enough that catching him off guard was nearly impossible. That’s why you didn’t want to talk about things - there’d be no satisfaction if he knew.

No mischief.

You were too close to be stopped now, even if he was aware. You grab his sides and bite down on the meat of his ass in one movement. Whether you managed to tickle him, or just startle him, he was sure to make some sort of sound.

Oh boy, and does he ever make “some sort of sound”.

Marco makes the most undignified, impressively loud, and slightly avian, sound you have ever heard.

The dead silence on the ship is unsettling, and as you straighten up, you can clearly hear someone snort before the entire deck breaks into laughter. Looking up at Marco in disbelief, you feel the bravado drain from you when he turns toward you.

He looks pissed.

Not the kind of throw you over board, and make you clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a month kind of pissed, but more like exactly how you’d expect the second in command on an Emperor’s ship to look if you’d successfully managed to goose him in front of god and man. Never, in all the years you knew him, and certainly in none of the years you’d been with him, have you seen him so look scary while he was looking at you.

What you were feeling in the pit of your stomach was the heaviest lead ball of regret you could possibly imagine.

“She got you good brother!” Thatch yells, laughter in his voice. You really want to just cut his pompadour off at the moment, but he is also not wrong.

“I really thought you were gonna stop me.” You manage to say the words, but over the sounds of the crew you weren’t sure he even heard you.

“Hahahaha! A bird! He sounded like a bird!” Ace is gasping for air between bouts of laughter, and it would help your cause immensely if he’d just pass out.

“You’ve been irritated lately.” Marco says evenly. Quietly. For you only. “I was giving you privacy until you were ready to talk.”

… well, shit.

“A moment of silence,” Izou says, calming down the others. He puts his hands up to his mouth and speaks up even more. “Hang in there little flower, we’re all rooting for you!”

The round of laughter that follows is raunchier than earlier. You only hoped that whatever Marco decided for you, punishment wise, it was at least half as sexy as the crew figured it would be. Especially since, as he turns and grabs the scruff of your shirt, you’re pretty sure you might just be cleaning the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next month.

He takes you back to his room, what is quickly becoming your room as well, opening the door and nearly tossing you in. There’s just enough restraint in his actions that you didn’t go tumbling onto the floor or anything else.

Closing the door, Marco crosses his arms and leans against it. Straightening your clothes a bit you clear your throat and turn the desk chair around before sitting down. There’s a moment’s silence between you, neither of you apparently really sure where to start.

“Sorry,” you say after another moment.

Breathing in, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I know, yoi.” He admits. His irritation softens, the usual neutral look back on his face again. “What’s been on your mind lately, pretty bird?”

It’s your turn to make an awkward sound, the truth of it is so stupid in hindsight you really don’t want to say, but considering what happened, clarity is the very least Marco deserves.

“I was irritated… because you’re always so effortlessly in control.” You sigh, putting a hand up to keep him from speaking, so you can continue. “You never fluster, you never yelp, you never seem to lose your cool. Ever… And I’ve been stewing, like an idiot, for the last few days because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Putting your face in your hands you groan. “I tried to cool off, but when I came up behind you and you didn’t notice me, I just… gave in.”

A moment’s silence causes you to look up from your hands and Marco is red halfway down his neck. He’s got a hand over his face, and is trying to compose himself, but it doesn’t look like anger - he wouldn’t be avoiding looking at you like that if he was angry.

“Marco?” You’re hesitant, but he flinches before peeking over his hand at you. He wasn’t angry, he was embarrassed, more from what you’d said than the sound he made earlier. Though maybe that was only because he was so angry earlier.

“It’s… it takes a lot to control myself around you, yoi.” He admits after a moment. “Like flying in the eye of a storm, knowing if I slip too much I’ll get sucked in and lose control.”

Flames roll off his shoulders as he steps toward you. He looms over you, until you’re pinned between the chair and his body, leaning back until the chair tips and rests against the desk. Teal and gold flames are coiled around his arms, engulfing your vision in a swirl of colors. Though the dance of sparks in his irises are so mesmerizing you’re barely aware of the rest of his display.

“Every sweet word,” his husky voice drips against your skin. “Every mote of laughter,” his teeth nip the curve of your ear, lips pressing into your skin and pulling a shivered gasp from your lips. “Every time you bat your pretty little eyes at me,” you can hear the rush of flames billow through the room, his gaze holding onto yours.

“If I gave in, I’d want you either screaming in ecstasy, or recovering from it,” Marco presses a soft kiss against your forehead, “exhausted and babbling thanks as you fall asleep on me.” He explains, before tugging your hair with just enough force to part your lips so he could kiss you deeply.

The tug was hardly rough, and the thirsty kiss has you squirming in the chair, heat and need wriggling through you at the confession. You knew Marco loved you, the two of you had admitted your feelings a long time ago. But you always thought it was a quiet, almost sedated kind of passion - because nothing riled him up.

And since you were pretty sure Marco’s legendary stamina could easily lead to your unfortunate demise if he wasn’t careful, you had a deeper appreciation for his restraint all this time.

Breaking the kiss he leans back and you gasp for air. You’d simply forgotten to breathe once he grabbed your hair, and the rush of pleasure had scrambled your senses.

“Suh-Sorry,” you gasp, the deeper understanding making you regret deciding not to talk to him about it before you goosed him like that.

“Mm…” He looks down at you for a moment before turning away. He’s quiet for another minute before he speaks up again. His usual tone has returned, and you can see the shiver of flames slowly dying down as well.

“Get back to work for now, love.” He says evenly. “I’ll need a day or two to carve out enough time to properly punish you, yoi.” He turns toward you as he says this, his composure back on his face, save for a smile that promises a punishment equally feared and anticipated.

It took a couple days for Marco to carve out the time he wanted, and the wait just made it worse. Or better, you weren’t really sure. The crew ribbed you for your impending doom, and a few even brought you gifts - no one had heard Marco make a sound like that before.

You ended up with some extra bandages, salve for bruises and welts, and a set of healing and relaxing bath oils from Tate. Izou gifted you a bundle of toothbrushes, and told you to hang in there, but you were pretty sure you weren’t going to need them. If Marco only wanted you to scrub the bathrooms, you would’ve started on that already.

Every interaction with him was tense, at least for you. Marco was his same, calm, smooth, seemingly unflappable self. Almost as if he was proving a point.

Then one morning, as you woke tangled in his arms, the payback began.

He held you close in bed, nuzzled into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin. His hands wandered, carefully at first until you were awake and murmuring your good morning to him, and then more pointedly. Warm fingers slipped under your night clothes, moving you with ease, pulling soft sounds of pleasure from you.

His middle finger was rolling against your clit as his other fingers pinched and teased your nipple. Caught in the hold you wiggle against him, hand against the back of his head as the earlier soft kisses turned into heavier licks and nips against your neck.

“Mm, good morning, pretty bird.” He hums into your skin and you nod, putting your leg over his and opening your legs for him. “Greedy little thing,” his voice sinks into you as he pushes his fingers into your pussy, the heel of his hand still teasing your clit.

“Hnnngh, you’re gonna,” you gasp, as he twists your nipple a little more harshly. “Make me cum, please, please Marco.” Your hands are over his, your body shivering, hips rolling in his grasp. “Close, so c-close.”

“Listen to you,” he murmurs, continuing to drive you closer to the edge.

“Please, please, Marco, please!” You whine. Your heart’s starting to pound and you can feel how wet you are with every thrust of his fingers. “I’m gonna- gonna-!”

Marco pulls his hands away, pulling your pants down and lifting your shirt up. The action forces your arms up over your head, the night shirt muffling the whimper as he denies your orgasm.

“Such sweet sounds, pretty bird.” He says, the words sending a nervous thrill down your back as he pulls the shirt off entirely. He moves you onto your stomach, folding your arms behind your back and putting his weight on you to keep you pinned. “I think it’s only fair if the whole ship gets to hear you.”

“That’s…” Horrifically embarrassing, but you’re not as against it as you thought you’d be.

“Only fair, yeah?” He husks, the stiff bulge of his pants pressing into your wet slit. “Just your sounds, yoi. No one else will see you.” The soft kisses he puts on your shoulders and back are reassuring that he wouldn’t force you to do it. “Or we could stay in here, and I’ll just edge my lovely little bird,” he shifts his hips, forcing your legs wide as he presses against you heavily, “All. Day. Long.”

Heat rushing through you, you nod. “I… want to cum, please. E-even if everyone hears.”

A few minutes later you’re on your back, feet in the air, legs held open by rope. Marco’s secured your arms so that your hands are near your ears, but you can’t reach or cover anything. Your hips are tilted up enough he has access to everything - the position is embarrassing even if the only person who can see you is him.

After opening the nearby window, he pulls something from the closet. It takes you a moment to sort out what it is, but it’s a large cone with just enough curve to it that it can be near your mouth and pointed out the window at the same time.

“Took a couple days for Fossa to make this.” He explains with a grin. “Don’t turn away from it, pretty bird, I don’t want to have to secure your head like that.”

You nod, afraid to make a sound with the mouthpiece near you. Your whole body is flush with embarrassment, need, nerves, and desire. Marco’s hands on your legs pulls your attention back to him, the look on his face is promising that you won’t be able to stay quiet once he gets started.

Rubbing your legs, he presses careful kisses into your skin, starting at your ankles and working his way up your legs. It’s warm, sending the softest of pleasures into you. You try to focus on your breathing, not wanting to help Marco work you up, but there’s a shivering sigh that escapes you when his thumbs spread your labia.

The small sound is amplified by the cone, but it’s far too soft to be heard by anybody outside the room.

Marco’s tongue drags above your slit, millimeters away from actually touching you, but your eyes are glue to the act and your own mouth opens in response, tongue out, desperate for him to just devour you. Desperate for him to soak you in so much pleasure you aren’t able to worry about the cone by your mouth.

He presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, leaning down slowly until his thumbs stop spreading your labia now that his lips are keeping your clit where he wants it.

You can’t stop your cunt from throbbing, even as you fight to keep your body still. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t moving, the position, the pressure, the anticipation is going to ruin you before anything else. You already know you can’t win against this punishment. He’s entirely too skilled, and you’re entirely too willing.

There’s a split second of understanding before you nearly scream into the cone.

The initial shriek of surprise devolves into laughter as Marco has begun tickling you relentlessly. You’re tied down so well that no amount of thrashing is going to make him move his face away from your cunt. No movement you can make will move you far enough away from the cone to stop your uncontrolled laughter from blaring out onto the morning deck.

“Nnaaaaaaaagh! No! No-o-o-o-ahhhahahahahaha! Marco! MARCO! Hahahahaha!” Your laughter-filled begging has a few breaks as he lets you catch your breath before continuing. The screeching laughter isn’t helped by the knowledge that the entire fucking ship can hear you, but after a moment you realize it’s only half the problem.

You’re riding Marco’s face.

Your thrashing and struggling is letting him tease your clit without him even moving. The zings of pleasure are starting to cut their way through the tickling, and the first soft whimper from you is all he was waiting for.

Still tickling you, Marco begins to lick and suck your clit himself.

“Fuck, no, wait, guh-hahahahahaha! AH-HAHAHA! No! No! Marco! Hahahahahaha—hnnnnngh ♥!!” You thrash and moan and beg and shriek, but there’s no mercy given.

The most mercy you get is when he pushes two fingers into your vagina, leaving him only one hand to tickle you with.

Deep, husky, lascivious sounds are ripped from your throat, broken up only briefly by whined laughs, the tickling temporarily breaking your climb to an orgasm. Clipped laughs, and strained swears fall from your lips as pleasure begins to outpace the tickling.

“Please, please,” you gasp, body shivering on the edges of orgasm.

Marco leans over you, speaking near enough into the cone.

“Let them hear the sounds I make you make, yoi.” He growls as you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, please, please, Marco, please -!” Marco’s hand is against your throat, thumb by your lip, keeping your mouth pointed at the cone, as he hilts inside you in one smooth thrust.

The action stutters the breath in your lungs. The stretch, the fullness, the pleasure. You hadn’t realized how on edge everything had you until he started to move and spots danced in your vision. Teasing your breasts with his free hand, grinding his body into your clit almost constantly even as he thrust into you. The way he set your body on fire was unfair, and you came unraveled beneath him in seconds.

The desperate, lusty moan bubbles up your throat and out into the cone as your entire body tenses from pleasure. The ropes groan as your body thrashes for a completely different reason from earlier. He pulls every moan, plea, babble, and apology from your lips as he fucks you through the first orgasm.

A burst of flames and a shift from Macro, and his talons are against your throat as he’s turned a bit. You don’t see the other part of him that’s transformed, but you can feel it.

“Not-the-tongue!” You cry out as the bristle-tipped end of his long phoenix tongue flicks against your clit. “Fffff-uck!” You swear, the intense pleasure ripping into your muscles as he continues to ride you, forcing the first orgasm into a second one. “Please, please, gods, fuck, please, hnnnnnngh-ahhhh ♥!!” The pleasure rushes through you, and you sink into it.

It doesn’t matter who hears, it feels good, so good. Everything Marco does feels good, but the intensity this time has scrambled your senses. You know enough to know he shifts again, hands on your breasts, feet on the ground, the steady thrust of his cock building pleasure inside you.

“Look at me, pretty bird.” Marco commands, and even if your haze you look over at the sound of his voice, the clarity of his eyes holding onto your meager attention.

“Good girl.”

Fuck.

“Keep your eyes on me. There you go… now breathe in, nice and deep for me.” He directs you, taking in an exaggerated breath along with you.

Once your lungs are full he pushes the knot into your dripping pussy and the intense stretch, the deep place he hits inside you, are enough to hurl you off the edge again. The deep guttural sound echoing down the cone shook it almost as much as it shook you, but the orgasm was too bone deep to be accompanied by a sound as sweet and gentle as a cry. A pleasure so intense, it almost makes you feel sick with exhaustion.

Marco fills you up, the terse grunt from between his teeth lost in the primal sounds he’s forced from you. It might be petty of him to think so, but no one’s going to remember the noise he made on deck after this. You don’t need to know how he’ll keep you from getting teased too much, not that you’re worried about such things right now.

Moving the cone aside, he leans over you, barely moving his still-throbbing knotted cock. It’s enough to make you gasp, sucking in a shaky and exhausted breath from the sensation. Brushing sweaty hair away from your face he kisses your cheek tenderly.

“What’s your color, baby bird?” He questions softly.

“Yuh… yellow,” you gasp. “Need… need a minute…”

“Can I pull out, or?” You shake your head as vigorously as you can manage at the question and he chuckles softly. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay as still as I can. Take your time, love. You did a good job.”

“That was intense,” you sigh, a smile scrawled across your lips as he caresses your face.

“I was surprised I didn’t get a word of protest out of you, yoi.” He admits.

“You gave me a choice,” you remind him. “Besides, I really do feel bad.” Pressing your lips together you can feel your face heating up as he gives you a look. “I really didn’t expect that.”

“Mm. It’s never gonna happen again.” He asserts and you just bite your lower lip. “Pretty bird.”

You look away guiltily. “At least not in front of anyone else.”

“I’ll punish you every time.” He grumbles.

“That’s… not exactly the deterrent you want it to be.” You say honestly.

“Oh?” Marco’s eyes go wide for a second before he grins, leaning over you and slowly pushing himself in deeper. You whine a little, looking at him with a pleading expression. “Are you saying you want me to pin you down and fuck you senseless whenever,” he kisses your lips softly. “And however I want?”

His kisses slide down onto your neck. “Is my pretty bird saying she wants to be a sweet little obedient sub for me?”

“I dunno about all-ah-that.” You murmur, the words shivering out of you as he leaves heavier kisses against your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin. He’d never spoken to you so roughly before, but neither your ears, nor your thighs, seemed to mind.

His hips roll, shoving his hardening cock in deeper. The cold squelch of spend leaks out and slips down to your ass, making you gasp.

“You want to be a brat for me to tame then, hm?” He presses your face to the side, slowly beginning to move inside you, teeth sharper against your skin. “Maybe we could try training you, yoi.”

“Tra-training?” You squirm, toes flexing, fingers in need of something to hold onto.

“It would be sweet if a single word, whispered in your ear, brought you to your knees for me, yeah? Shivering and ready to sing just for me.”

You whimper, a trembling need rolling through your body. “I don’t know that, that, you’d nee-eeeeee-need that muh-much!” You cry out as Marco’s teeth sink into your skin, the sharp pain and dull pleasure buffeted by soothing flames.

He licks the bite mark on your skin, tongue trailing up the side of your neck until he’s nibbling on your ear, leaving you to pant and squirm beneath him. He gives your cheek a kiss and pulls out carefully, watching every twitch on your face until you’re empty.

“What was all that?” You question as he begins to slowly untie you.

“Hm?”

“We’ve… we’ve gotten all ropes and commands before, but you’re talking like… hardcore bdsm stuff.” You feel the heat rush to your face as you say it. You don’t know why it’s embarrassing to put it like that.

“Anything you’re curious about, pretty bird, and I’ll do what I can.” He kisses the inside of your thigh as he starts to undo your legs. “Full-on lifestyle’s a bit hard to do on the ship, especially with Pops as the captain, but if there’s anything you’re curious about, let me know.”

Undoing the last of your binds he massages your legs, making sure nothing was discolored or tingling.

“You don’t have to be a brat to get me to do this and more,” he clarifies, sliding up and snuggling with you on the bed.

“I’m just trying to sort out how you know so much about it.” You say, snuggling into him and letting him wrap his arms and legs around you. “Your experience seems… I don’t know, more than just something from saucy stories shared between crew mates.”

“Mm…” He clears his throat, running his hand through your hair. “We’ll say I’ve known a king or two in my life. Maybe one day I’ll even admit to one of them that they weren’t wrong, yoi.”

“About what, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Few things are better than having a sweet young thing falling apart beneath you.”

#commissioned work #quin writes #x reader #reader insert #mdni #marco the phoenix

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joelsgoldrush · 3 months ago

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“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k

logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs.

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big.

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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shotmrmiller · 5 months ago

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size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

#someone give our poor reader a bag of ice #and pain relief medicine #the dr recommends 2-3 days of bed rest to recover from that pussy slaughter #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x you

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months ago

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kidnapped!reader come crawling back to kidnapper!könig after she was somehow released because she doesn't have anyone else beside that cruel man who loves her so so much

imagine being able to escape the guy who held you in his basement for three months only to find out that literally, no one notices your disappearance...yeah, that can fuck anyone up. You just...you couldn't fucking believe it - you thought all of those people were your friends, you thought they truly cared about you, at least enough to file out a police report. You literally went to your old apartment and it's rented to some other people. You tried to contact your parents, and then you remember that you weren't talking to each other for at least half a year, even before the whole kidnapping thing. It's shameful, but when you're forced to sit at the police station while literally, everyone ignores your attempts to file a report - you can't put anything, you're not injured, you're wearing nice clothes, you literally look like you just rolled out from a bed and gone with your day. Kidnapping victims don't look like that, and this is what the eyes of the officer listening to you say. Maybe, this is why when Konig pulls up to whatever park bench you holed yourself into, you don't even try to resist. There is disappointment in his eyes, and you are almost too embarrassed to look at him. You just...you feel weird. You should be scared, you should attack him and call for help. You ask him if he could stop by some drive-through and get you some food. He does. Konig asks if the escape was worth it, and you mask your sobs with the sound of munching on your fries. He reaches down to pat your hair and says that if you ever pull something like this again, he will break your legs. You nod, kinda agreeing with him - you'd break your own legs at this rate. He fucks you like an animal the next minute you're back in the house - only barely prepping you before punishing your poor, abused cunt with his cock. It's a miracle you are not damaged down there, as he drags you in his hands and never lets you leave the bed for the rest of the night. He hugs you and kisses your forehead when you say that no one even cared that you disappeared. At least now you know who really is on your side. It's him. Always been him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #yandere cod #cod x reader

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oreoluvskento · 9 months ago

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gojo being dangerously loud

a/n: i know this is supposed to be a nanami focused account but hear me out... whiny gojo. that's it.

cw: cunnilingus, riding, ummm gojo being drunk and loud and his baby girl moans, semi-public sex (they're in a bathroom), i am so horny and i just need him so bad

you love the sounds your boyfriend makes during sex. he's never been shameful about it either, always loud and proud about the way your pussy makes him feel. this time, however, you wish he'd shut up.

you two are currently in your friends bathroom during a drunk movie night. you were both pretty tipsy, gojo more drunk than you and you were having a great time. all of a sudden, he doubled over, making it obvious to everyone that there was something wrong and he needed a bathroom fast.

except, when you follow him in and he locks the door behind you, there is nothing wrong with him at all, besides the raging boner he was currently sporting. your eyes widened when you saw it, but the casamigos in your bloodstream was stopping you from thinking clearly and the next thing you knew, you were getting eaten out on your friends bathroom floor.

"'toru, fuck, i'm close!" you whisper, holding his head harder and he speeds up, his tongue flicking your clit constantly as his two middle fingers are going to work. when you cum, you cover your mouth with your hand as your back arches off the floor and gojo doesn't pull away. you have to manually drag him away from you and he immediately goes for your lips, making your mouth just as messy as his own.

as the two of you kiss, he sits up and pulls you against his body sitting against the bathtub. you make quick work of his pants and without wasting any time you lower yourself on him. the last thing you expected was for him to throw his head back and let out one of the sluttiest moans you had ever heard. "ahhh fuckkk!"

you quickly slap your hand against his mouth and pray to god that no one heard that. he lifts his head and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and low eyes, whimpering quietly against your hand at your pussy pulsing around him. "satoru, you've got to be quiet, baby, okay?" you ask and he nods, his cheeks red.

you finally lift your hips and before you could even go back down, a deep groan comes from his throat and you stop again. he gets impatient and pulls you down himself, dropping his forehead against yours as he moves you faster.

"mmph feels too good, can't stop," he says breathlessly against your palm, and you have to drop your head on his shoulder at the speed he was going. he truly was trying his best, but as the two of you went on, his whines got louder and louder until they were hoarse moans.

"im close, im close, please, please, please!" he cries against your skin and you take over, pressing your lips against his in the process. he moans into the kiss, his body going weak when you trade the fast movement for slow, deeper movements.

"you like it, 'toru?" you ask, your lips moving against his. he nods quickly, tears beginning to form in his eyes at the sensitivity of his dick but you don't stop.

"baby please- haaa fuckkk!" he begs squeezing your hips and you shake your head.

"promise me you'll be quiet when you cum," you instruct and he nods furiously, just wanting to feel his orgasm. you take his word for it, partly because you were ready to cum too, but you cover his mouth for safe measures.

you go faster now, grinding your hips down on his, and almost as soon as you start, you feel him start to shake and thrust into you himself. "ah, ah ahhhh fuck, fuck, fuck, cummingggg!"

before you could say anything, he holds you down, his head buried in your neck as he moans in your ear and your orgasm hits as well, spurring him on. "ohh shitshitshit too much too much fuuuck!" he cries, holding your body against his as you ride your orgasm out. right when you finish, you hear a knock on the door and your friend's concerned voice.

"hey, is he okay in there, do you guys need help?" her voice rings out and your eyes widen.

"yeah, he's okay, just drank a bit too much!" you shout back and turn back to look at your boyfriend. "cough," you instruct and he does just that. you reach to the side and flush the toilet and pretend to pat his back. "that's okay, get it all out."

"okay, there's some water in the kitchen for him when he's done," she says and leaves. you let out a sigh of relief and drop your head on a slightly sobered up gojo's chest.

"my bad," he whispers and you roll your eyes as you stand up.

"shut up."

#jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x black y/n

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carbonfiction · 1 month ago

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Line to cross

Summary: When DBF!oldman!Logan catches you in a compromising position.. You should probably tell him to stop, should hold the fabric tigher in your fingers, be less calm, put up more of a fight.. He's your dads friend, a taboo line you really shouldnt want to cross..

Warnings?: 18+themes, basically PWP, smut, female masturbation, caught masturbating, mentions of dildos, swearing, nipple play, f!reciving oral, slightly forced orgasm? Tiny bit of overstim? Lotta Praise, nicknames (princess and babydoll mostly) , just oldman!Logan's mouth being a warning of its own really..

Gotta admit i wrote this with nothing more than horny brain. Old man logan just.. Hits the spot yk.. Pun not fully intented..

Masterlist words: just under 2.5k

"Now.. What do we have here?" Logan rumbles as he stands heavy against your doorway, arms crossed with a smirk tugging at his lips.

You shriek and scramble, like ice water has been pushed through your veins, rushing to cover yourself from his gaze. Practically naked and beyond mortified as you stutter biwildered whilst trying to tug your top back over your breasts. “w-what the fuck are you doing?! How long have you been stood there?”

“..what am I doing? I think I should be the one asking you that, princess.”

He ignores the second part of your question and you feel yourself try to shrink to no avail, so you repete; voice breathlessly unsteady and not quite sure if you truly want the answer. “How fucking long Logan..”

there’s bite to your tone but not in the way you’d like, it comes out less aggressive and more meek; unsure and utterly mortified

“long enough” Logan simply shrugs, notchulantly stepping forward into the expanse of your room, clicking the door shut behind him. “wasn’t exactly planning on dropping in, figured you were out.. but then I heard you from downstairs, called my name sounded desperate.. so I assumed something was wrong..” he trails off with a motion of his hands.

Shame swirls In your gut that you hadn’t only been thinking of him, but had fucking moaned out his name..and done so loud enough that (even without his hightend senses) he’d heard you.

“looks like i was the one wrong. Hadn't expected to come up here and see daddies little angel fuckin herself stupid on some plastic cock.”

“W-wasn’t, Logan i-“ it’s a futile defense, pointless really considering what you think he’s seen of you.

“You weren’t what hm? Weren't whimpering my name? Weren't splitting that pretty pussy open to the though of me, trying to make yourself feel good?" Logans hand laces with yours, as he bares down on the matress to sit, a calloused thumb ghosting over your knuckles in an attempt at comfort despite the mockery of his tone. "S’okay princess, don’t have to hide it”

heat spreads from the tips of your ears down your neck, darkening the already hot flush of your cheeks. “Logan I- I swear I didn’t mean-“

“Didnt mean what? To fuck yourself stupid or for me to catch you? Cause babydoll it looks like you failed at both”

A sound bubbles from your throat at that. shame, embarrassment, horror, arousal.. All knotting together in a potent mix deep in your stomach.

Your legs subconsciously close tighter under the thin sheet, a move that doesn't go unnoticed under logans perception.

its also a move that further jostles the dildo still tucked inside you, the blunt head prodding against a spot that has your eyes rolling before you can stop them.

You whimper a panicked little sound at the humiliation; at the lack of friction, the pleasure still festering in your gut. The words that fall so mockingly from logans lips.

He doesnt need his senses to feel the shameful arousal that radiates from your haistily hidden body and it has him huffing in amusement; whilst you scold yourself further for not removing the toy in your panic.

"Cmon, open up.. let me help" he murmurs, his large free hand grasping and pulling at the blanket covering you. It slips down further, covering only your waist- You should probably tell him to stop, should hold the fabric tigher in your fingers, be less calm, put up more of a fight.. He's your dads friend, a taboo line you really shouldnt want to cross..

And yet, you do. You want- need- to cross it with carelessness; with arousal burning your skin inside out.

You let him slip the fabric down past your hips. Past your clenched thighs, your knees, ankles. Until it sits in a discarded heap at the end of your bed.

Its the cool air of the room paired with the feeling of his calloused palm snaking its way back up your left leg that rouses you. "B-but logan, my dad is-"

"-Is gone. work called." he interups, his fingers kneading at the soft skin of your outer thigh. "Trust me s’okay.. S' just us. Me 'n you babydoll."

And with that said, a small reassured nod shaking your frame, his large hands pry your legs appart. Your body shuffles with his following, right leg coming to sit over the broad expance of his shirt clad shoulder, the bed creaking under the weight.

A scratchy kiss is planted just above each of your knees, logans beard rubbing as he shifts with you, coming to rest between your thighs.

The sounds of your heavy breath is the only thing filling the room until logan groans, deep and loud at the sight of your bare pussy still stuffed full of the the toy. "Fuckin lookatcha, already drooling.. such a needy little thing”

You keen at the feeling of his heavy hands touching your body, one sitting heavy on your lower stomach and the other resting against the base of the toy, careful not to move it just yet. You can tell by the way hes looking at you he's taking in the sight of your slick stuffed cunt.

"Want ya to show me what feels good, how you like to be touched.. show me what you were doin before i caught you" his words are quiet, mumbled against your thigh, yet demanding as his eyes find yours for that extra confirmation.

Your head moves in a nod but he tuts disapproving at the action. "Words princess, need ya to use em okay?"

"Y-yeah.. okay"

Wordlessly your hands drift back to your top, slipping it back to rest just below your collar bones, nipples perky and sensitive. It draws an exhale from your body as one hand comes up to your mouth, spit covering two fingers as you suck at them.

Once sufficiently wet they slip back against your left nipple, slick and shiney as you circle teasingly at the bud while your free hand gropes at the flesh on the other side, before moving to mirror the movements on the right. this time palm fondling against the swell of the left.

Your eyes fall closed at the sensations, quiet sounds falling from your lips; steady yet shy. Logan simply watches on, silent and enamored with every move you make.

Then your hand drifts once more, down your tummy and over the hand of his resting there, your touch soft and warm.

Theres a breathy sigh as you wrap your fingers around his on the base of the dildo as you push and pull back and forth. Alternating between the feeling of the silicon balls deep and the tip sitting bearly inside until it slips out with a thoroughly wet pop.

It's this time however logan cant muffle his groans at the sight; of you dragging his hand with the toy cock up and down your dripping slit. It further hardens his own cock sitting behind the denim of his jeans.

Logan lets go under your grip, using it to push your legs open wider as you slide the toy back inside; maintaining a steady pace. palm hitting your swolen clit with the force of your own thrusts. It feels good, fucking yourself like this with his eyes hungrily on you. It has you whining and keening, small uh uh uhs the longer you play but its not enough, not really.

Not when logan is laying between your legs with the knowledge of how to really get you off.

"L-logan, please.. Cant.. Doesnt feel as good myself" you huff and whine sounding akin to a petulant child not getting what she wants.. But in a cruel way you find thats true; while you aren't anywhere near a child anymore, you aren't getting what you really want.

The heavy hand that rests on your tummy moves down, until Logan's thumb presses on the hood of your clit. He tugs the swollen flesh back carefully and then smirks. He spits and you gasp. Yet he makes no moves, just watches it dribble down.

It has the need burning inside of you igniting further and under his touch you find any past embarrassment dissipating.

So you plead again, feeble and quiet, almost defeated. "P-please do something.. Need you to do it." you beg for the smallest movements, for anything he's willing to give.

And to your surprise... He does just that. He gives. The hand that opened your legs moving to shove away the fingers that wrap around the end of the silicon. Its done with an indignant shush when you whine; the dildo once again moving back and forth against your gummy walls. "Shh shh, s'okay I'll do it, you wanna fuck a plastic cock you've gotta at least do it properly princess”

The room fills with wet plap, plap, plaps, as logan keeps his quickened pace. Thrusting the toy steady as his eyes watch each motion hungrily.

"F-feels good.." you mumble squeezing at the meat of your tits, a hand coming down your stomach until it wraps tight around his thick forearm. Your nails dig in and he grunts at the sting of the crescent shapes denting his marred skin, but his movements never faulter.

Your eyes flutter and roll once more at a full thrust. The blunted bulbous tip prodding experimentally at that one spot again; slick and sticky silicone balls pressed flush against your ass as your hips try to buck for friction.

“ooh, there. we. go." logan huffs against your trembling thigh atop his shoulder, punctuating his words with three rougher thrusts. plunging the silicone dildo so deep you swear you feel it in your belly. "that’s the spot huh baby”

"M-mhm.. Close" You mumble through quiet moans. nodding quickly, lip bitten beneath your teeth as the pleasure builds faster and faster. Theres a tremble in your legs that grows the longer your body keens; back arching and hips writhing.

A condecenting chuckle slips from logan, dark and deep as he somehow manages to plunge the dildo faster and harder inside you.

The force makes your body jolt up the bed and you dont know if your scrambling towards or away from whats happening between your thighs. But you do find yourself greatful as your head hits the soft pillows; It happens the very same moment logans thumb finally, finally begins circling the pulsing bud of your clit.

Mindlessly you cry out, fingers pressing harder into your breast and logans forearm. "S-so close.. pleasepleaseplease"

His thumb moves faster, the rough pad slick and wet as you throb beneath his touch. Your body writhes as you moan out obscenities, the pleasure filled coil in your belly twisting tighter with every second that passes.

"Need you to do it babydoll, need to see you make a mess f'me." he growls, commanding.

Moments later you do just that. You cum with a such a visceral sob of his name that it wracks the entirety of your body; head thrown to the pillows and back arched so high it almost looks painful. White hot pleasure running through your veins as your stomach muscles heave.

Yet logan doesnt stop, doesnt let up his movements with his thumb or the now soaking toy cock, thrusting it with loud lewd noises of your cunt as it coats creamy with your release.

He simply coos out concoctions of praise; versions of 'that's it, Atta girl' and 'look so pretty when you cum' with his head pressed against your trembling thigh. Eyes dark and watching the way your slickend holes greadily clench.

He's hard, painfully so, but he knows this is a sight that he'll dream about later; his own slick cock in hand in the confines of his bedroom.

Overstimulation quickly threads its way into what was once overwhelming pleasure, turning the shocks into sparks. You writhe and moan under his hands, begging desperately as your hips buck frantic. "L-logan.. Im done- f-fuck s' too much, too much!"

"Ah ah" he tuts. "Your done when i say your done, need'a see you gush one more time" your eyes roll at that, the stimulation and the way his chapped lips press the words into your pubic bone.

Your eyes screw shut, brows furrowed as you struggle though the pain that with each movement winds your belly tighter. By now tears stream down your cheeks, hands grasping tight to anywhere you can reach of him; To push him away or pull him closer you still dont know.

The rubbing of his thumb on your pulsing clit ceases monetarily at the broken sounds you make and for a second you think hes letting up, going easy on you.

However the feeling of his hot mouth wrapping around the sensitive bud changes your mind. You squeal, loud and panicked, eyes flying open as your legs desperately try to shut around his head.

"N-nno no no" desperate hiccuped sobs falling from you as he laps and sucks, dildo still pushing into you, drawing you to the very edge of the burning pleasure pain in your gut.

"Do it princess, fuckin do it. Know you wanna" he mumbles wetly into your weeping pussy, tongue flicking in quick back and forths.

Your hips thump at his nose, coating the greying in his beard as you cum again. It's filled with a pain that drives the feeling of orgasm higher. your scream is silent, mouth opening and closing in wordless 'o' motions, brain so clouded your words fail.

The motions of the his mouth and the dildo slow until Logan's pulling off you. The sensitivity drawing a whine from your throat, while the the creamy coated sight of the silicone makes him groan loudly as he throw it somewhere on the bed.

For a while you lie there completely boneless, panting as your legs continue to tremble with the aftershocks, logan still resting between your thighs cooing softly. Hardly noticing the way he shuffles his way up your body until his spit soaked lips find your forehead.

"Good girl.. My good girl, Did so good f'me babydoll" he murmers softly against your skin between kisses, a contrast to his previous domineering tone.

You feel him gather your frame into him, the buttons of his shirt pressing into your skin as he lifts you from the bed bridal style. You smile up at him gently, meeting his gaze as your lashes flutter sleepily. His scent comforting as you wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling your head deeper into his chest; trying to burrow your own space inside.

His quiet chuckle is felt before you hear it, rumbing deep from his lungs as he pulls you tigher to him; heading for the bathroom. "Cute babydoll.. Real cute"

you whine at that, an exhausted but happy little sound as he leans his head down to kiss your hair before mumbling "lets getcha cleaned up hm? Ill take care of the sheets"

Eee- this has gotta be one of my favorite pieces I've ever written!! Lemme know whatchu think!! 🫶

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader smut #old logan #old man logan #logan 2017 #dbf!logan #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #old man logan can get itttt #i said what i said

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sugutiva · 1 month ago

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❝ THREE IS NEVER A CROWD ! ❞ — ST & SG.

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : walking in to find your two best friends making out on camera was no surprise to you at all— but finding yourself sandwiched between them surely was.

tags : smut, p in v, threesomes, geto has piercings, cam sex, oral sex ( f & m receiving ), fingering, slight handjob, spanking, squirting, creampie, cum facial or wtv it’s called, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : sugutiva posting twice in one month?! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

if someone had told you that your two loser best friends who shit-talks about everyone and everything they encounter, uncannily bicker like an old married couple, and secretly watches porn together was behind a famous camboy account, you’d wouldn’t be surprise at the fact at all.

you had always suspected that the pair were equally fond of each other— no matter how much they tried to deny it. but there’s still some sort of shock once you find them sloppily making out on the bed you were supposed to be having a movie marathon on, with a live audience capturing their lewd movements.

they only break away from their overbearing kiss once the grocery bag filled to the brim falls out your hand, and spills it’s contents on the floor. cerulean and violet eyes stare holes into your motionless form, clearly processing the embarrassing situation.

oh. this was honestly the last thing you expected on a friday night.

“ satoru? suguru?” you utter, curling your eyebrow upwards in disbelief as you take in the scene infront you; there sits satoru on suguru’s lap with nothing on but boxer briefs, meanwhile suguru is situated underneath him with no shirt but a pair of baggy black sweatpants. despite satoru’s imposing figure, you still had an inkling that suguru was the real dominant one out of the duo.

“ shit. fuck— um, h-hey. . .” satoru greets you with a sheepish smile. the wait of reality truly settles in because you’ve never witnessed him being slightly ashamed for anything he did or does. he unlatches himself from suguru’s body but there’s no point, you’ve already seen what you’ve saw. “ i didn’t know you’d come over at all—“

“ it’s a friday night, satoru.” geto deadpans before facing you with a serene smile, like you hadn’t caught them in the act of doing something lewd. infront him, there’s dozens of comments rolling in, and your eye catches them. some asked them about who you were, if you were the girl they often talked about, or if they’ll do another threesome again, this time with you.

knowing they’d regularly talk about their viewers to you made your body flush all over with a sudden throbbing temptation.

“ so . . . you two are camboys? since when?” even though you swore you were in a state of surprise, your body must’ve moved by it’s self, seeing how you take a couple steps forward until your somewhat towering over their tall bodies. gojo looks at you with surprise before twisting to amusement, while geto keeps his expression serene.

“ you don’t sound too disgusted or surprised,” geto skillfully avoids your questions calmly, and you grow nervous under their combined observant gazes. they were prepared for you to outright judge them for their shameful shared account, but instead you don’t. in fact, you look intrigued. “ i could be wrong but, i think you want to join us.”

you grow quiet and break eye contact. it’s cute.

gojo stares at you with a teasing smile before grabbing your wrist to pull you over closer, he mumbles. “ you wanna fuck?”

you attempt to speak but nothing comes out. it’s like that for a few seconds, you staring at them in dumbfound as they wait seemingly patiently for your answer. “ i— w-with me? a threesome with . . . all three of us?”

“ yeah, i mean, that’s literally the point . . . of a threesome.” geto quips back with sass, and you roll your eyes.

the answer is yes, written in bold letters as your back meets the cushion of the bed they were once on moments ago. it feels expensive.

gojo goes over to the camera, positioning it in a good angle that where all thousands of their audience can see with you bare with your legs sprawled out, and geto in between them.

his hot breath fans over you already soaked cunt presented to him, narrowly flashing you that shining piercing stamped on his tongue. “ you hear that, princess?” he brings his thumb to gather your slick from your leaking entrance before smearing it on your erect clit— just begging for his attention. or maybe for the both of them at once. “ you hear your cunt singing loudly for me?” his thumb repeatedly flicks at your labia, ringing out deep squelching sounds.

“ suguruuu, don’t play with our food now,” satoru whines, making his way back over to the bed once he has the right set angle. he gets down on his knees next to his partner, pushing your right leg further to make room for him. “ god, ‘m staaarved. keep your legs spread like that— don’t move them at all.”

before you know it, their tongues are fall into an automatic rhythm while slurping and thrashing at your drenched entrance. words cannot describe how good they are at skillfully eating you out at the same time— distantly, it makes you wonder how many times they’ve done it before you came into the picture.

“ fuuuckk!” your mouth drops open, feeling each detail of their tongues slobbering over you, now at different paces. geto languidly tongue fucks your hole; his tongue reaches so impossibly deep inside that you feel the outline of the cool piercing brush against the heat of your hole. while gojo quickly flicks at your clit in rapid succession, strings of saliva coating his own chin, dripping down so messily that they meet with geto’s occupied wet muscle. “ deeper, sugu, deeeeper! wan’a f-feel your piercing!”

“ hmph, suguru’s not the only one eating this sloppy pussy out. or are you too dumb to feel the difference between our tongues?” sensing competition, satoru slurps your whole clit in his mouth. his head shifts up and down as if he was sucking against something else— his tongue flicks out his mouth, much slower this time, accompanied by more saliva coating your pearl, only to be sucked in at the same time his tongue pulls back into his warm mouth.

the sight is nothing short of vulgar, and you’re sure the paid watchers are getting way more than what they expected.

geto pulls back from your cunt, but you don’t get to whine about the lost contact of his tongue leaving your opening when he easily slips two of his thick fingers in, resulting in a loud popping noise, and an even louder moan from your mouth. “ tsk. yer’ such a try hard, satoru. turnin’ everything into a competition.”

“ so? we can’t have you hoggin’ her all for yourself now,” his speech is noticeably slurred due to sucking hungrily on your clit. his mouth detaches from your aching bud, just to deliver a slew of mean spanks to make it twitch under his harsh ministrations. “ ain’t that right, princess?”

the painful sticky contact catches you off guard completely before it quickly brings you back into waves of pleasure. taken aback, you jerk your body away, although you don’t get any where near far because of your hole getting mapped out, and gojo’s iron grip on your hip. the confusing pleasure-pain entanglement has you feeling beyond lightheaded.

“ shit! y-yes, satooru! i wan’ t-the both of you!” your hands flies down in an attempt to pull away the hands causing you extreme pleasure— more than what you can initially handle.

“ yeah. slapping her pussy so she can agree with you definitely wins you more brownie points.” suguru dryly notes, “ we’re gonna break her already.”

“ i’d like to see you do something about it, suguboo.” satoru voice cuts in, the enthusiasm peaking in his tone that suguru lacks.

of course they’d bicker while turning your brain mushy threw your overworked cunt.

“ mmph— ‘m gonna squirt!” you shriek out, your body curves into a outwardly arch— that looks sexy albeit painfully from the camera’s point of view.

suguru starts thrusting his fingers again, even faster than before. satoru’s head dips down to your clit to give it a spit filled kiss before lapping it up into his mouth entirely like before. a tight but slightly uncomfortable pressure builds in your lower stomach.

your surprised that your voice hasn’t given out, considering of how loud your moaning both of their names as they write their conjoined love letter over the expanse of your cunt. “ fuh— fuuccck . . . o-oh!”

your nimble fingers finds home in gojo’s pristine locks of hair. he nibbled on your clit abruptly, and that was your end. your body freezes in your arched position before breaking out into tremors as clear fluids squirts from your body.

“ how cute, our best friend has such a sloppy pussy on ‘er,” suguru’s voice purrs with amusement, watching intensely as the juices that sprays uncontrollably from your body coats the entire half of satoru’s lower face, with some reaching the duvets underneath your bodies.

your body collapses back down on the bed. there’s a brief pregnant pause in the room— you barely notice that it’s because of satoru swapping your juices that he held in his mouth into suguru’s in a deep kiss.

gojo uncharacteristically whines as geto grabs a fistful of his hair to tug him closer— this whiny boy cannot be the same person that just made you paint his face in your vigorous fluids. there’s a brief glimpse of their tongues twirling and touching each other’s, like how they did on your cunt moments ago. suguru pulls from the kiss while also pulling his drowned fingers from your hole, soundly. he presses the certain digits on satoru’s warm tongue, expecting him to suck on them.

which he does, with a submissive moan. “ suguruuuu,”

as they continue to make out, it makes you throb all over again.

satoru chases after his fingers once suguru pulls them away. his brattiness is short lived when suguru yanks his hair to make him face your wrecked form. “ ah ah, don’t be greedy now. we still have a pussy to break again.”

the dynamic assigned with their pornographic persona fits them perfectly— suguru is labeled as the no-nonsense top, while satoru is the bratty bottom that will crack under pressure if pushed enough— no wonder why they’re so famous.

your body is situated into the iconic doggystyle stance. you see the lap of satoru, his boxers briefs are saturated a shade darker than it originally was, credits to his sticky pre-cum making itself known. your hands slowly spring his cock free, and satoru sighs shakily from above you.

you licked your lips, staring at your best friend’s astonishing length. he stood tall, even though it slapped against his stomach, you could tell that it reached far past his belly button; his tip flushes an angry red along with a eye-catching pearly bead of cum that makes your pussy clench around nothing— for now. no doubt, the sheer size will have your jaw aching for days after.

“ no need to just ogle at it. ‘s all yours babe, heh.” gojo chuckles cockily, watching you gawk at his freed dick.

you had temporarily forget the owner of such a pretty cock, had such a blabbermouth.

you glare at him from underneath your eyelashes, you harden the tip of your tongue and push it against the vein bulging from his skin, trailing your tongue all the way upwards until your reaches his slightly swollen tip. there, you take the fat head in your mouth, giving it a harsh suck that makes satoru groan and throw his head back.

geto settles from behind you, giving your rounded ass a heartfelt squeeze before slapping the jiggly skin sternly. he stops to pump his own hardness as he slaps the tip against your sopping folds, noisily— this is how you figure out he has an prince albert’s piercing, when he’s close to using it to turn you drunk on both lingering cock’s. “ waiting on you, pretty girl.”

spreading your legs more, you push back against his base. the curve of his cock presses against your mound, a silent telling that you’re ready for him, and he takes it exactly like that when he suddenly sinks into your warm walls with no follow up warning.

oh god, is he fucking thick.

from the obvious feeling, you can tell that he has more girth to his cock— thicker than gojo’s, but not quite as long.

geto grunts, his gruff hands gripping tightly at your waist as he thrusts forward. his pierced bulbous tip immediately hammers into your sweet spot. the forceful pumps that he delivers to your much smaller body, has your stomach tightening with fulfilled hunger, causing you to mewl around gojo’s cock.

and the vibrating sensitivity is so dizzying to the latter. “ keep fuckin’ her jus like t-that,” his abs flexing and clenching in your field of vision. you hollow your cheeks in and relax the tight muscles in your throat, so you can consume more than just his meaty head. “ oh fuuuuck, baby. you’ve got such a d-deadly throat on ya,”

“ don’t tell me you’re going to cum already now.” geto teases, composedly watching gojo’s reactions. he’s since then propped one leg up on the bed, diving deeper into your pussy even further. “ hey. once his tip starts twitching he’s about to—“

“ shut the f-fuck up,” his strained voice doesn’t come off sternly than what he expected as you trail your tongue down, leading to his tender balls. “ n-not yet— can’t do that, ‘m gonna cum too early!” you pay his words no mind as your hand moves up to stroke up and down on his copious length.

by now, you’re purely relying on geto’s strength and your other hand placed on gojo’s firm thigh to keep you upright. geto leans forward, his chest pressed against your back while the hands once grabbing and slapping at your plump flesh strains your hips. the new position creates more of an absolute mess out of you, along with the heavy balls stuffed in your mouth.

you push back against him every time you feel his pelvis collide with your forgotten clit in sticky thrusts, the contact gives you a distant amount of pleasure but it’s not near enough. “ you desperate for something? how bout you ask me first, then i’ll make this pussy drown my cock.

a tease is the perfect word to describe geto— he knows what you want, but still decided to make you spell it out for him. painstakingly.

“ i want you to t-touch me,” he gives your body a jagged thrust. he wanted more, for you to be more specific. you grumble before complying. “ i w-want you to touch my clit, suguru, pleaseee!”

his hand creeps in between your parted thighs, fingers toying with your throbbing clit in fast paced, tight circles to match the speed of his own hips. “ like this? you like havin’ your clit played with while you give your other best friend head?” his voice is pitched an octave lower pressed to your ear, the purring sensation makes you push back against him, searching for your pending orgasm. “ heh. what a greedy slut for cock.”

“ ‘m gonna cum soon, princess.” gojo jaw clenches as he breathes out, nostrils slightly flaring due to the doubled pleasure; your hand pulls and twists in up and down motions on his cock, your saliva helps guides your hand as your mouth is currently occupied with him. he doesn’t let you stop or pull away even for a moment as his fingers cards through the locks of your hair, pulling and pushing them closer. “ c-close your eyes, baby. wan’a paint your pretty face in my cum for the viewers.”

you had briefly forgotten that all of your obscene doings are being captured. dozens and dozens of donations roll in, but you can’t focus on that. not when your senses are clouded with only impure thoughts of your two best friends.

you listen to gojo’s order— and you’re glad because moments later, galloons of his sticky cum paints your face in a translucent base. “ g-good girl, oohhh, you look so pretty like this for m-me.” he cups your face with one hand, while smearing the leaking slit of his tip against your lips. your tongue dips out to lick the bitter yet somehow sweet substance.

the black haired, determined man pulls at your arms, fucking into you faster, initiating broken gasps to leave your throat with every push. “ suguruuu, ‘m so close. i . . . fuuuck, gonna cum!”

“ you like it rough, yeah?” he gives you another awakening thrust, and that’s your end. your head throws back against his broad shoulder and he turns his head to latch on your neck.

but he still doesn’t relent. not until he comes next.

making your head bobble and your pleasure quickly bleed into overstimulation, until your restricting walls triggers his own climax. with a harsh bite on your neck; geto cums, while consuming down his pornographic moans. and it’s a plentiful amount.

“ o-oh shit.” his jaw ached from how hard it was clenched and the muscles in his thighs flex. his fingers on your clit slow, eventually dropping their pace “ yer’ so t-tight. my dick feels like it’s going to fall o-off . . .”

his cum is so warm and it makes you feel full inside, he ruts his hips up erratically to make broken hiccups escape your mouth before he eventually stops.

the salacious mood calms down as you’re busy catching your breath with the weight of geto on top of you— you don’t even realize the camera is in your face until the familiar notification sounds are too close up.

bleary-eyed, you looked into the camera from under your eyelashes. the seductive scene of satoru’s sticky cum covering your face couldn’t be anymore intoxicating to ingest.

“ i think we have more room for another person,” gojo’s cerulean eyes meets his companion’s. “ what d’ya think, suguru?”

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tender-rosiey · 9 months ago

Note

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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yawnderu · 3 months ago

Text

CW: dad/daughter incest, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Simon in his 40s), reader forces a creampie, fucked up family dynamics. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

“No shame in liking daddy’s cock.” Simon couldn’t help but admire the sight beneath him, his lovely creation lying open and inviting just for him, legs wrapped around his broad waist to bring him even closer, his cock buried to the hilt inside your needy, sopping cunt.

“God, you’re fuckin’ tight.” Simon panted, his grip on your hips tightening. He pulled back and pushed inside you again, each motion repeated in a steady rhythm, blown pupils meeting yours with nothing short of raw reverence.

A dirty bastard, he was, and yet all that remained inside that fucked up brain was the need to make you feel good, the need to be as close to you as possible, overwhelmed by the fever pitch of lust consuming his very soul.

“‘M gonna cum.” Simon couldn’t resist the pleading look in your eyes, a deep groan making its way out of his lips the moment your nails dug into his back, his rough hand coming down between your bodies, his thumb rubbing your swollen clit.

The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sex thick in the air. Simon gazed down at you, his eyes filled with the same intensity that had once driven him in combat. His is short nails dug into your hips, wanting to mark you in any way possible, thrusting harder and faster, his groans becoming louder by the second.

“Cum inside me.” His heart thundered in his chest at your plea, brown eyes fluttering shut as he tried his best to hold back, to spare you the consequences, but he could feel your legs refusing to let him pull out, your tight walls milking his swollen cock, his resistance beginning to falter.

“Fuck. I can’t—” The cock that made you throbs inside you, pulsing and ready to fill you up, your grip around his waist tightening, refusing to let him go. A daddy’s girl through and through, even when he’s balls deep inside you. His face found shelter in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, gritting his teeth.

Simon is 93 kilograms of pure muscle, easily able to pull away if he truly wanted, yet his intentions are clear as day to both of you. A shudder ran through him, his cock pulsing as he filled your womb with spurts of searing cum, marking you as his in the most primal way. A shaky breath left his lips, your needy walls milking him for all he’s worth, his cock twitching as the last few drops leaked out.

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice hoarse from the intensity of it all. His cracked lips plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand trailing down your sweaty body to hold yours, intertwining your fingers. It didn’t take long for his head to rest on your chest, your breaths coming in harsh pants, finally processing what just happened as you hold each other.

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 5 months ago

Text

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist.

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily.

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head.

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war.

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen.

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house.

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word.

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked:

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.”

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms.

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock.

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap.

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night.

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting.

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–”

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

“Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed.

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips.

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release.

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours,

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop.

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations.

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case.

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice.

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you.

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours.

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips.

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms.

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away.

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter.

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

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