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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months ago

Text

The Iceman Cometh - Dean x Reader

“The Iceman Cometh” - Dean x Reader

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader

Tags: Sweaty Dean, Turning Up The Heat, Ice Play, Mild Smut, Nipple Play, I Will Again Be Accused of Blue-Balling

Word Count: 1700

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Ice-play" square.

A/N: I just wanted to mix things up and write something short and fun.

Image created in Canva (photo used/found online: Facebook - Una Vida SPN)

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean fists his hands leaning on the motel office counter.

“AC’s out in the only room I got left!” The old lady with coke bottle glasses and Wilma Flinstone pearls repeats herself. Her cigarette-laced voice is scratchy and a couple squeaks higher this time.

You groan. Dean side-eyes you but doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge the irritation.

“It’s 100 degrees out. We get some kinda discount for pain and suffering?” he asks.

“I’ll knock ten bucks off the bill.”

“Ten bucks?” You huff out an incredulous chuckle.

“We’ll take it.”

Before you can yell at him, Dean’s already slapped a credit card on the counter.

~~~~~

Of course, this had to be the first motel with a vacancy during the two-hour trek through the Nevada desert region.

The hotbox of a room smells of mildew, cigarettes, and vinegar. You plod through the humidity and stale stench. Every bit of odor clings to your perspiring skin so there’s no escaping it. Dean curses as he taps buttons and thumbs dials on the window air conditioner, just to verify it's inoperable. You drop your bag on the bed and beeline to the bathroom.

Dean needs a shower more than you. He was the one who wrestled and skewered a ghoul in a sacred burial ground. But you’re gonna be salty about his decision to stop. You’d wanted to keep going, offering to share driving duties. Who cares if neither one of you had slept in over 24 hours?

Your pants are around your ankles in a second. The loose porcelain bowl seesaws under your weight. Regardless, you sigh in relief, weeing out all the water you’ve been guzzling to stay hydrated.

The rap of Dean’s knuckles on the bathroom door interrupts your steady stream of piss. “I’m gonna grab somethin’ at the diner we passed.” Dean’s second preferred method of appeasing you is feeding you. “Be back as soon as I can. Save me some COLD water, baby.”

A hard tug of the motel door seconds later rattles the paint-by-numbers sagebrush framed on the wall behind the toilet.

Dean left without taking your food order. You grind your teeth.

~~~~~

Forty minutes pass before the familiar engine rumbles into the lot and headlights flash through the sheer curtains.

The diner was a good fifteen minutes away, one-way, if Dean had been going the speed limit. The Impala’s warp speed must have been activated for him to have actually ordered and brought back dinner. Your stomach somersaults with distress and hunger pangs.

Dean opens the door only to hover within the threshold, a human doorstop.

You’re in a tank top and boy shorts. The best thing you could use to fan yourself is a file folder Sam stuffed with case material before you and Dean left Kansas.

Dean stretches and drops the bag of takeout on the nearby kitchenette table. He eyes you with a frown. “I’m sorry it’s shit in here. I’d say we could sleep in Baby, but it’s worse outside. Seriously.”

You’re laid atop the bed stripped of its scratchy and threadbare comforter, which is now a heap on the floor. “You know, all the times you’ve had to put that car back together again piece by piece; maybe one of those times you could have installed some air conditioning.”

He raises a finger to signal you should wait for something impressive. He dips half his body back outside, foot holding the door open. There’s bumping and huffing. Then the green cooler appears, held triumphantly in his hands. “I brought ice! Waitress at the diner sold me pounds of the stuff.” He’s sensibly in only a t-shirt, having left his duffle and jacket in the room when he’d left earlier.

“The iceman cometh.” The eyeroll is excessive, but you can’t seem to not.

“Eat, grumpy. My turn for a shower.”

~~~~~

He crunches ice chips. You suck on one cube, swirling it from one cheek pocket to the other until it melts, and then repeat with another. Forearm to forearm, you both sprawl out on the queen-sized mattress. You snapped at him earlier about the heat the boob tube would create. He stews alongside your percolating tension. You’ve allowed the bathroom light to stay on. A yellow fluorescent haze slices from the open door and spills over Dean.

There’s no escape from the heat.

“Pulse points,” he mutters.

“Right,” you snip. Your hand scoops ice out of your red solo cup. You circle a cube along your inner wrist.

There’s a shake from his side of the bed. You glance over. He’s shirtless, clad only in his boxers, rubbing ice up and down the back of his neck. Which only pisses you off more.

This hunt was supposed to end days ago. You were supposed to be celebrating your anniversary at the bunker today. You had some fun times planned. A surprise dinner of all Dean’s favorites and a movie marathon in the Dean Cave.

“I’m sorry,” you and Dean mumble simultaneously.

“We’ll get back on the road soon, sweetheart. I was spent and seeing double. Even if I can’t sleep, it’ll help just not being in motion.”

“I’ve been a major bitch.” You laugh at Dean’s deer-in-headlights reaction to your admission. “You don’t have to agree or disagree on that count, babe. You know how I get when shit doesn’t go according to plan. And, this fucking heat is not helping.”

“We both pop our tops an equal amount. That’s what makes us perfect for each other.” The backs of two of his fingers skim your elbow.

“Except when we both blow up at the same time.”

“Nah, that’s even better. Then we get to have angry make-up sex.”

You whoop out a laugh. “That’s never happened.”

“It could now?”

You grin. “But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything else.”

He shrugs. “Take it out on me, then.” He reconsiders. “Or, let me cool you down?”

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

Dean grins. He tips his head way back with the cup to his lips. He shakes his hand and the ice crackles. Cup back in his lap, you spot one cheek puffed out like a chipmunk. His face crinkles up.

“You’re gonna give yourself brain freeze, idiot.”

“Worth it,” he mumbles.

His lips lean in to press a kiss. You giggle at Dean’s clumsy attempt with a mouthful of ice. A surprised squeal follows when he slips an ice cube between pursed lips to run across yours. He pulls back and smiles, crooked and unhinged. He plops the cubes into his cup sounding like a penny slot machine and sits it on his side table.

He pulls you in close for a kiss, expertly grabbing your cup from your hands. You can’t be bothered to care where he hides it.

His tongue is so cool. A popsicle with a mind of its own that you want to suck on for days. He’s very agreeable to the way your lips wrap around it. He moans. You love the particular sound of that one. It strains out of his throat. Thankful. Relaxed.

He’s fiddling with more ice, having wedged your cup between two pillows. “You’re always so hot,” he quips after you relinquish his tongue.

You skim one leg between his thighs. The skin contact is tacky and sticky. “You’re always so cheesy.”

“Not always,” Dean says with a smirk. “In this instance, I’m just stating a fact.”

You hiccup a gasp at the ice cube he presses to your wrist without warning.

Dean glides it slow, a serpentine slither, to the crook of your elbow. He swirls the spot and lets it melt and drip from your body to the sheets. His green eyes concentrate on the task.

You can’t help but lose yourself watching him. His body shimmers in a sheen of sweat. Every minute shift highlights the beautiful angles of his face. Perspiration beads up under the hairline of his forehead. You can’t resist kissing and sipping at his upper lip. He grins and returns the gesture.

He uses another piece of ice to continue upward to your shoulder. He traces the shoulder strap of your tank. A hop over it and he’s sliding down the outline of your collar. It’s a quick ride into your cleavage where he lets the remnants melt and add to the already damp material.

His tongue laps at the wetness that’s collected there. You sigh and lean back. He hums and kisses the curve of your breast, slides the strap down, and then nuzzles into the notch of your armpit.

After a few seconds, he rises up in order to gaze into your eyes with the most innocent of expressions; even though he’s freed one of your tits from the confines of your clothing.

More ice rattles by your ear like maracas.

You’re in trouble.

You purse your lips at the biting cold against your neck. It’s electrifying and refreshing. He outlines your collarbone back and forth for emphasis. A shift and he’s leaning beside you, up on one elbow to drink in the sight. One leg drapes over yours, locking you into place. You feel the growing bulge in his boxers. There’s no escaping what he has in store.

He juggles two cubes between his fingers and journeys along the crest of your breast. He’s grinning with mischief and lust now. Then his mouth parts when the ice meets your nipple. Your flesh hardens and tightens on contact. You groan. Your core clenches.

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he circles the dark pebbling bud. Air squeaks out of your mouth. You squirm. It’s a beautiful freeze burn of contrast.

Once the ice melts, his fingers, also chilled, take over kneading and pinching. His patience gone, he bends down and latches onto your cool tit. He nurses with that sinful mouth and grazes your nipple with tongue and teeth until your skin tingles back to life.

You are so out of your head with the noises he’s making and the show he’s putting on, that you're ill-prepared for his cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

You shriek giggle, “Dean!”

He ends his sucking with a loud pop. He whispers against your lips, “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Update: Got inspired and filled another bingo square with these two. You can read "Just A Little Spice" here.

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester fan fiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

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cheesus-doodles · 1 year ago

Note

Kazutora moving in with reader?

Kazutora is beaten up after a particularly bad fight with his dad, he runs off somewhere alone, reader finds him, he spills his guts about his home life, and reader just decides he's moving in with her. Kazutora, while surprised, isn't complaining. Maybe uses not being used to a safe and stable home environment to get as much TLC from the reader as possible.

And yan!platonic!toman's reaction to finding out? Sure they see reader all the time and she makes lunch boxes for them, but Kazutora never has to say goodbye at the end of the day? Gets breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert from her? Unlimited cuddles and alone time? Sleeping in the same bed? Being the first thing he sees every morning? It's like they're a married couple!

Kazutora's planning their future wedding while Mikey's throwing the fit to end all fits.

dkjfnsfsdjnfkljsnfjlskdn i love this ahhhhh took my breath away when i saw it come in :') softness...been a hot minute since i got this but i hope yall like it! been pretty sick these two weeks, apologies for the silence (psa: this is not edited, will edit when I wake tmr zzzz)

‎‎

A Relief from the Rain

Yandere Platonic Toman

Masterlist

‎‎

Two days.

Two days was all it took for the group's goodwill towards Kazutora to completely collapse despite there being little change to their regular program.

“No! I refuse! I forbid it!”

You simply sighed, combing your fingers through the blond locks of one pouting Tokyo Manji Gang President who you were attempting to calm down, the image of him stomping his foot like a toddler a far cry from the well-feared delinquent that he was. "Come on, Mikey, don't be like that." Even to an outside eye, it was clear that you were well-used to the antiques of your dear friends, with the way you had the fussy boy bundled in your arms and the soothing repetitive movements of your hands through his hair, yet this situation was getting out of hand for you.

As if on cue, your appeals only fell on deaf ears, with Mikey no less upset about the sudden new arrangement that had befallen your home than when the day had started. "No!"

Whimpering, the clutch that Kazutora had on the fabric of your shirt only grew tighter as he buried his face into your back, the feeling of dampness touching your skin once more as the blue and backs that littered his skin had just begun to fade almost seem to glow under your kitchen lights. "I don't want to go home," he whined. "I want to stay here." One look at your face made it clear you thought the same.

There was no doubt that the Toman founders had known what Kazutora was going through at home. Being delinquents themselves with an extensive history of fighting, they certainly could tell when a bruise was from the impact of a hand rather than that of an accidental run-in with the wall; and that would be if they hadn't had the...pleasure of running head first into their friend's sperm donor.

The boys understood. Really. None of them came from what society would deem conventional families, and even if they didn't live through the hell that was domestic abuse, they could sympathize.

A clack as Baji all but gritted his teeth in a bid to keep his trap shut, Draken's arms shaking with the force of his grip on his shirt in an attempt to not just rip the injured Kazutora off of you and hurl him through a window. They understood, but when it came to you and your very limited and carefully allocated time, any sympathy they had went straight out the window.

But no matter their aggravation, you didn't seem keen on giving in; not after the state that you had found your friend in, and definitely not after you had found out what he (and to an extent, the rest of your Toman friends) had been hiding from you.

‎

“Tory? Is that you?”

Your voice cut through the cacophony of rain pattering down the narrow side alley. It had been a miserable Thursday afternoon two days ago, gloomy clouds hanging low from the sky. The unusually heavy droplets of water hitting a jumble of metal, brick and concrete surfaces alike on their way back down to earth that had previously drowned out the grating voices in his head now only served to carry your words along the otherwise soulless alley. Combined with the splash of small puddles that had pooled up amidst the flat cement floor as your light footsteps grew closer, the usually comforting, rhythmic sounds only served to churn up his gut further.

“Tory?” Kazutora didn’t respond. There was no hiding his signature gold and black hair, even if it was flattened by the dampness, and it was only clearer and clearer that it was him as you continued to approach. But the boy instead found himself wishing against hope that you would simply leave him alone, turn around and return to whatever it was you had been doing; a first since he had come to know you.

The shadow of your umbrella shade fell over him. A pause, you seemingly thinking what to say. The world stilled. "Are you alright? Cold?"

A sniffle, a whimper. It was all he could reply with as he shifted to wrap his arms tighten around himself, face pressed firmly into his knees, darkening bruises and bleeding scratches hidden away below the fabric of his drenched clothes, his two black eyes throbbing. The concern in your tone was warm, homely yet heart-wrenching at the same time: the last thing he wanted was for you to see him in a state like this. But he knew you well - and you were one of those just too stubborn to leave without an answer.

As far as you had been concerned, Kazutora's home life didn't exist.

Not that it didn't of course, the boy still unfortunately needing somewhere to return to lay his head once the night grew too old should it not be his turn for cuddles at yours. No matter what awaited him behind the dreaded front door to his house, when it came to you, there was nothing for you to know between the moment your friend disappeared off the streets and when he appears once more the next morning, either in the kitchen already making a ruckus or cuddled up as close as he could against you in your bed, fast asleep.

And Kazutora had been happy for it to stay this way. Lying to you one too many times on where all the bruising on his arms came from and why he had another black eye wasn’t easy to stomach sure, but your pity was something he didn’t mind receiving in heaps. No, this crybaby was happy to thrive off of your generous kindness and your endless affection for your friends. What he didn’t want, however, was to sully those innocent doe eyes with even the mere idea that the world could be so horrid, to dim the spark in your eyes that gave him a reason to face the worst of what life could throw at him.

But alas, the hand of destiny had a different idea from him, and now here he was, stuck in a situation Kazutora didn't want you to be in. He had always powered through alone, suffering for the light that came the next day with your return to his life. What were you going to think? What could he say?

‎‎

At least you didn’t seem to mind the waiting or the damp. A huff, followed a soft thud accompanied by a splash of water; the telltale audible cues of you sitting down next to him. The rain failed to continue to pelt his wrapped form, most likely shielded by the canopy of your umbrella that you so generously shared with you silent unmoving friend; the soft, calming hum that fell from your lips like it always did was barely audible over nature’s cacophony if Kazutora strained his ears. Content with simply being present and by his side, you didn’t press him for answers, didn’t force him to hurry. Letting him take his time to open up to you.

The storm had started to die down by the time the delinquent finally moved - the first signs of life and response from the unusually silent boy you had received since your arrival in the overlooked alleyway. "Are you going to be mad at me?" The sudden words that punctuated quiet whirl of air-conditioning compressor of units overhead seemed to take even you by surprise.

You blinked. "Mad?" You echoed. "Why would I be mad at you, Tory?"

He hesitated for a moment, before almost shyly lifting his head just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. You gasped. Usually unblinking sandy brown eyes were purple-black and swollen shut, with a splatter of sickly yellowish green bruises littering his forehead, as if dealt out in retaliation for protecting his face. What happened? Did he get jumped by a rival gang?

Swallowing hard, it took everything you had to erase the visible anxiety from your expression - it was clear that your friend was in a pretty bad shape. But he never did like you having to worry about him: Kazutora had always been the big, bad delinquent that protected you after all. You took a few deep breaths, waiting till your tone was calm and even before you spoke once more. "Do you need to go to the hospital, Tory?"

It wasn't the right time to ask what happened, not yet, but it was clear that those injuries at least needed a minimum amount of treatment. A pause, and then Kazutora shook his head. You nodded, standing. Brushing did little to clear the dirt from your damp skirt, but you hardly noticed, a bright smile lighting up your face as you offered a hand to your friend. "Then you're coming with me. Come on, let's get you to mine."

‎‎‎

“And so Kazutora’s staying with me for the time being,” you finished.

Though strange it might be for you to initiate and call your Toman friends to your house as oppose to them turning up uninvited, the five delinquents had been more than happy to answer. What they walked into, however, quickly wiped any trace of cheer from their faces - finding a beaten and bruised Kazutora huddled up with a cup of hot chocolate in your living room told them everything that they already needed to know.

Mikey's eyes went unnervingly empty, his lips dangerously pressed and downturned. "He went another round with you?"

Your eyes slid expectantly down to Kazutora, who only returned a single nod. "Another?" You questioned. There was no doubt that everyone was always on the same page as you - and your friends had already known about this.

"Mikey's dealt with him before," Draken clarified.

To say you had been displeased with what you had learnt would be the understatement of the century. Your normal friendly, calm - human - expression cracked, and the temperature seemed to drop along with your smile. "He hit you before?"

Another pause, and then another quiet nod from Kazutora.

You stood almost robotically, your hand shooting to wrap around the closest weapon to you: the television remote controller clutched in your fingers gleaming menacingly. "Right, Tory, we're going to get your things."

‎‎

But that was two days ago. Two days since you had picked up Kazutora from the streets like he was a stray, two days since they had witnessed the downright frightening side of you that the Toman founders would pray never to see again (they didn't even know a remote could used to hurt that way). Two days that they had to endure without even a fraction of the attention that each boy usually got from you, having to watch someone else take that comfort away from them. It didn't matter that Kazutora was one of them - no, now he was the enemy.

Thursday nights were supposed to have been your assigned "alone time", which meant that none of your Toman friends were supposed to be staying over. Yet long after the sun had set and the night was threatening to grow old, after you had already spent the whole day fussing over that wretched mob of duo-colored hair, the rest had to watch, enviously, jealously, as Kazutora followed you upstairs while the rest of them had to leave your home.

And today was already Saturday.

"I'm gonna change your bandage, okay Tory?"

Mitsuya tsked at the whimper you got in response, though the lilac-haired boy was quick to turn his face away when you looked up in confusion. Kazutora was milking your soft heart for everything it's worth, and the other five Toman boys could see through him like paper.

Baji was more direct, hand shooting out to grab onto the sleeve of your shirt, tugging the fabric as pathetically as he could. "I'm hungry," the boy complained, and as if on cue, his stomach grumbled. Planned of course, given he skipped dinner earlier just to get to your house on an empty stomach; knowing that only Kazutora got all three meals home-cooked by you and no one else was a travesty in itself. "Starving."

It was usually enough to get your attention, enough for you to drop everything, yet you were undeterred, opting to give Baji's hair a tussle before returning to your original task. "Give me a minute, okay, Baji? I'll get dinner once I'm done here."

A glance back at Kazutora would reveal his blown eyes, the daydream (or vision, if anyone cared to ask the boy) of a white hall and you dressed in white glittering in those sandy brown eyes for all to see: Kazutora was sure your wedding to him was all but written in stone now. After all, he already got to cuddle with you every night (for one night), to wake up to your peaceful face first thing in the morning, plus food? Look how well you were already treating him, he wanted to crow to the others. It was like you and him were already married.

And the others knew. They knew what he was thinking, and it only wrenched up their annoyance even further. Why couldn't you see through what Kazutora was doing?

‎‎‎

One smirk sent Mikey's way was enough to light the fire.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Mikey roared, launching himself at Kazutora, only to be caught mid-air by Draken to stop him crashing face-first into you, who had been quick to step between the two boys, your eyebrows pinched together.

"Mikey!"

“But but-” The blond boy pouted, thrusting one finger at Kazutora, who was now cowering behind your delicate form. “He pulled a face at me!”

"He's already hurt!" You insisted, shuffling Kazutora behind you protectively.

It was as if Mikey hadn't heard you at all, his thoughts still clinging on to the sole point that the whole fuss had started. "No! I refuse!"

You looked perplexed, taken aback by the insistence. "No?"

"I forbid it! I want to move in too!"

You blinked, your head instinctively tilting as you looked at the fuming Toman President. "You want to move in? Like into my house?"

"It's not fair that only Kazutora gets to stay here!"

"But you have your own home, Mikey." You placated, but the delinquent was persistent, crossing his arms and stomping again.

"He can take my room, I want to stay here with you!"

"And since Mikey brought it up," Draken continued, cheeky smile now plastered across his face as he set the other back onto the ground. "I'll like to move in too."

"Bastard!" Baji cursed. "I'm moving in too!"

Mitsuya and Pah nodded along, though it was clear that Pah still wasn't quite sure what was going on.

You glanced around at them. "You can't all move in!" You exclaimed, scratching the back of your neck in confusion. "I don't have the room for all of you."

But the stubbornness and persistence that you had once admired of your friends came back to haunt you like a curse, Mikey huffing as he plopped down on your living room floor, sprawling with all four limbs. "I'm not leaving, I don't care. You can't make me."

Baji followed suit in agreement, taking up more space with his spread eagle pose.

"Should I tie myself to the sofa?" Pah wondered out loud, Mitsuya breaking into a laugh at his question.

Not being able to help yourself, your confusion gave way to a giggle as you chuckled at your friends' antics. Ah, you finally got it; you should known better honestly. All this time, their jealousy and envy had been written all across their faces.

"All right, all right, I got your point."

Mikey shot up. "I can move in?"

"No, but-" You held up one finger, interrupting what you knew was another protest starting. "If you boys help to clear out the guest room, Kazutora can stay there instead."

Said boy's vocal disagreement was smothered by the cheers of 'Out!', and you paused to allow them to finish before you continued. "As I was saying, Tory will continue to stay with me until he is recovered and has somewhere to go, but we'll return to our usual schedule." Offering one hand to Mikey, you tousled Kazutora's hair in apology as he clung to you, insisting that he needed cuddles to recover. "Deal?"

The echo of the clap resounded throughout the house.

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or0ch1maru · 3 months ago

Note

ima need some nsfw obito x curvy fem reader head canons 💳💳💳💳💳

18+, minors, ageless blogs, and trolls DNI

note: i am very petite with limited curves so if i made any mistake in my imaging, please let me know and i will gladly fix it!

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

-for starters, just know he will have a hand on you at all times. obito can't get enough of you and your figure

-sees you as a goddess and treats you as such, especially in the bedroom

-our sweet boy will worship your body; starts with a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck, following every dip and curve.

-HICKEYS. your frame will be littered in red and purple marks. another thing he loves is leaving bite marks across your soft skin. his favorite place being your hips and ass. the feel of your curves under his hands and teeth is something he can never get enough of

-obito loves any position where he can see your face, but loses himself when he's got you bent over any surface, the way the plush of your ass ripples with every thrust is more than enough to make him cum.

-spanks and squeezes your ass as he's balls deep. watching as your cheeks turn pink and red from the constant contact

-was never the type to prefer tits over ass or vice versa as he loves all of you so much, but that doesn't deter him from obsessing over the way your figure looks when you're arched in doggy

-don't worry yourself if you think you may be 'too heavy' to sit on his face, he will HAPPILY suffocate under your pretty pussy and thick thighs. if you even attempt to hover, his hands will clamp down on your waist as he yanks you down onto his tongue

-his eyes will be on your face the entire time, watching your chest rise and fall as you buck against his sinful mouth, the way your hands palm at your full breasts, gently pulling and pinching at your nipples

-will squeeze and rub circles against your hips and thighs to reassure you to keep going, to use his mouth as your own personal toy

-his eyes rolling back as your adorable and puffy clit bumps against his nose, coating the entirety of his lower face in your slick.

-if you wear a dress or any type of outfit that accentuates your figure in any way, just know obito will be pulling you away to any empty bathroom for a quickie.

-pulling your dress or skirt up, pushing your panties to the side as he fucks into you. your cheek mushed against the wall as he fills you up

-when he's like this, his hands don't stay in one place, they're roaming all over you; neck, tits, belly, down your spine. he truly can't get enough of you

-will NEVER have you feeling insecure or putting yourself down about yourself. he has two methods for the times this happens

-the first being; body worship. he will kiss and give you a reason for each feature you're worrying about. will have you standing naked in front of his full body mirror as he does this. wants you to see yourself as he does

-ex: if you're insecure about your belly/pouch. he will plant kisses everywhere before telling you why he loves it. 's a pillow f' me baby, so soft and plush'

-his second way being you either flat on your back in missionary, or fucked standing up in front of said mirror. his hands caressing your plush, leaving hickey's as temporary visuals of his love as he would call it. for days after you can look at yourself in the mirror and see the lingering devotion and adoration your boyfriend/husband left on you

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎ ♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

#akatsuki #akatsuki members #obito uchiha #my obito #obito headcanons #obito smut #tobi smut #tobi headcanon

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 2 years ago

Note

Literally sharing a sweater with Aziradroid and Crowlien? Bad, I imagine, for the sweater.

My space spouses! I missed them, they need more content. v.v

Warning: though not much is referenced, Crowley is a human-xenomorph hybrid, mentions of character deaths, going through dead people's stuff (whoops)

On with the fic!

"I do feel a little bad about this." Aziraphale muttered as he looked through a drawer in Captain Archer's old quarters. "But there is no use for these things for any of them, is there?"

Crowley was seated on the dusty, long-forgotten bed, toying with some old device that is probably in need of a charge. From what Aziraphale remembered, it was some sort of heart monitor for exercising, Gabriel was always so obsessed with his health, even more so than most for an average mission. Crowley made a chittering sound and tossed the object aside, titling their head, then they shrugged.

"Right, well, I suppose that all of the crew's stuff belongs to us now." Aziraphale tried to smile, but it still hurt to think about what happened to everyone.

He may have deep cleaned this ship from top to bottom of all traces of blood...

But he could still see it in his mind's eye, his memory banks just couldn't seem to delete those horrible, gory images. He didn't dare to wipe the burials though, he might as well remember them with their honors he had to state himself to no one but the empty void of space.

Crowley clicked and got up off the bed, moving to dig through another drawer, careful of their claws. It was rather cute how human Crowley could be when they made faces (as best as they could with what limited mobility they had due to their current condition). He laughed as he watched Crowley make a face at some shirt, tossing it over their shoulder.

"Just admit it, you still don't like Archer's taste in lilac." Aziraphale teased. "Black and red, those are your colors."

The hybrid made a trill, then leaned over, bumping their head against Aziraphale's shoulder. A questioning sound came from them as they reached into the drawer Aziraphale had been digging through and pulled out something.

It was a rather soft, large looking sweater. The color of it was actually a lovely shade of green, which was amazing, Aziraphale didn't think dark colors minus the flight suits were in Gabriel's wardrobe. "Oh, it's gorgeous! And it looks so warm!"

Crowley made happy noises, pushing it towards Aziraphale. "Zir. Zir." Came the gravel-like voice, a damaged relic of Crowley's old life, something that they were trying to use again, but it was so difficult.

"Oh, you want me to try it on?"

A nod.

"Well, let's see if it fits, hopefully it's not tight." Aziraphale slipped off the cardigan he had been wearing and pulled the sweater on over his head. It was a little roomy, even for someone with his bit of girth, but then again, Gabriel had been a broader man than him.

"Oooh, this is love-LY!" Aziraphale squeaked as he was suddenly pulled up by strong, bony arms that encircled his stomach. He wiggled his feet and then burst into laughter as his nerve sensors felt something squirming and wiggling around against his back.

Then Crowley popped their head up out of the neck, placing their chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. There was another happy trill from them, their bared teeth wet and brushing against the android's cheek.

"You silly thing! Even as a nearly nine foot alien, you still like this, don't you?" Aziraphale huffed and got a slightly tighter hug, a pleased growl.

The action reminded Aziraphale of times long ago, at stations where the crews could rest, or back home in between missions. Thin, freckled arms would wrap around his stomach while he was working on baking or browsing through books. A warm body pressed against him under his sweaters, a familiar face next to his own.

Lips against his skin, a laugh by his ear, maybe a dirty word or two if they were alone...

Aziraphale sighed and gently knocked his head against Crowley's. "You are a dear, Crowley, but I fear we're going to stretch this poor thing out and I'd rather like to wear it a few times before that happens."

There was a loud, wet sigh from Crowley and he felt the alien set him down before shuffling a bit to get out. They were on their hands and feet to do so, looking up at Aziraphale with those big, acid-yellow eyes.

He smiled and leaned down, giving them a kiss on the forehead. "Thank you for suggesting this, dear. Come now, let's see if we can find you something, I'm sure you'd love to wear some clothes sometimes, yes?" He got a hiss in response. "I'll take that as a maybe."

Aziraphale is still getting used to continuing his relationship with Crowley, it's just going to take some getting used to when you're not human and your partner has become a tall, lanky, killing machine who still loves you.

Also, Crowley is fucking tall in this, because I like the idea of it. Already tall to start with, then gets fucking stretched out by alien shenanigans. (this is probably painful for them, but they won't let Aziraphale know so he doesn't worry even more than he already does). Also, they're tall so they can lift Aziraphale up easily for hugs.

#good omens #crowlien au #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #john's drabbles

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scaramouche-bully · 4 years ago

Note

can i req fem!sub / if you want gender neutral is ok, about being brat on the bed? and (seperate) kaeya, diluc ,xiao &childe respond on it?

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader

Contains: Bratty sub, riding, dacryphilia, humiliation, rough sex, switching, coming untouched, dirty talk, degradation, choking, slut shaming, stomach bulge, masocism, minor blood, drooling + dumfication.

— ☆ Wrecking headcanons - Childe 🐏 [ Female ]

[ masterlist ]

Apologies for the long delay. It’s been busy.

I’ve updated my rules to limit requests to two or fewer characters as to not overwhelm myself. But since this request was before the change, I will write all four. For future requesters, please stick to two characters.

— ☆ Kaeya

As soon as you talk back to him, he gives you most amused but pitiful look you’ve ever seen. He takes a moment to chuckle under his breath before he’s hoisting you up onto his lap, leaning his cheek on his hand, and gestures for you to continue.

You must think you’re so cute right now. Suddenly thinking that you’re in charge? Alright, if you want to be on top then go. He won’t do anything. Let’s see how long it’ll take for you to start whining.

He loves the flustered look you get when he suddenly gives into your demands. The brave face you try and put on as you slowly ease onto his thick cock and the frustrated whimpers you try and hide.

It’s only when you start apologizing that he disapprovingly sighs as he grips your hips, so hard that bruises will appear the next day, and slams you down on his cock.

“Talking back to me when you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock properly. What am I going to do with you?” he grunts out as your walls tighten around him and you scrabble to hold onto him, “You’re going to take every drop of my cum until your hole is stuffed got it? Aren’t I kind? Go on, thank me.”

“T-Thank..mm! Yo-You -ahh! More, ah! ” you stammer out as you claw at Kaeya’s back as he forcefully lifts you and drops you on his cock. The heavy drag of his dick against your sensitive spots is maddening that muddle your head. Every time Kaeya thrusts in you feel the breath get punched out of your lungs, the skin of your abdomen stretch and burn as you try and make room for his cock. You don’t realize that you’re crying out to him as you sob into his shoulder.

“Look at you, does that hurt? Too bad. Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat I would be a lot nicer,” he laughs as he viciously grabs your hair and lifts your tear stained face up “Maybe I should take a picture so I can show everyone in Mondstadt what a slut you are?”

He drops your face harshly as he grips your wrists and pulls your hands behind you before he flips you both over so he’s on top of you. Your arms are at an awkward angle that strain them but when he suddenly starts pounding into you with the new leverage, whatever complaints you have are quickly replaced with moans. You mewl at the idea, your friends and family seeing how much of a wreck Kaeya can make you. It makes you burn in humiliation at the idea and you know that Kaeya would do it in a heartbeat. It’s that thought that has you cumming as Kaeya curses and buries himself as deep as he can go, painting your insides with his cum. While you’re catching your breath, Kaeya swipes at the cum that leaked out of your hole as he brings his cum stained fingers to your mouth.

“Open up,” he says, his voice sweet even as he pry’s your mouth open for you. You, naturally, bite his fingers but also lick him clean. It makes his star pupils dilate as he takes in the image before shoving his fingers into the back of your throat so you choke, “You’re so cute. It seems I have a lot to teach you about manners brat.”

— ☆ Diluc

Diluc has to deal with too many problematic issues given to him by incompetent people. It’s weeks like these when his patience runs extremely thin, even when he tries to suppress his temper.

Naturally, these are your favourite weeks to irk the man. To see just how much you can get away with and how far you can push his limits. From walking around with barely any clothes to flirting with the Knights that attend Angel Share.

Diluc is used to your...mannerisms. That is until Kaeya appears and he’s already glaring at you before you can make a move. Don’t you dare even try it unless you don’t want to walk the next day.

It takes one touch on your waist from Kaeya for Diluc to snap. He’s closing the bar early and even the drunkards can tell Diluc is pissed. Kaeya blows you a kiss and a wave over the shoulder to Diluc as he locks the door behind him.

Diluc manhandles you to the bar counter until you’re bent over with your wrists pinned behind your back. You can feel the anger radiate off Diluc as you peer over your shoulder at him. While he has a calm face, his eyes are feral as he adjusts his glove. That’s the only warning you get before he slips his hand to the front of your neck and squeezes with a vice grip.

“D-Dil-” you cough out before you’re cut with a yelp by Diluc forcefully shoving your pants down as he shoves his fingers in, gloves still on, and stretch's your hole out.

“Pathetic, you’re already this wet and I haven’t even done anything. Are you going to make a mess over my floors? You know what’ll happen if you do,” Diluc sneers as he arches your back and brings your face next to his, “Do you like being choked? Is that it? You filthy whore getting off on being used like this.”

“Hah..haha...Ka-Kaeya is nn-- oh is rough-er!” you manage to wheeze out as you stick your tongue out at Diluc. He still wears that same neutral expression but you can see something dark swirl in his eyes. He mumbles out, is that so? Before he slams you back down onto the counter top. You’re a bit dazed from the impact that you don’t hear the rustle of clothes, a belt unbuckling, before you’re being rammed into by Diluc’s cock. Your hands are scrabbling onto the countertop for some type of purchase as Diluc wastes no time and abuses your sensitive walls.

“You’re. Mine.” Each word is punctuated by a deep thrust into you, “No one can fuck you like I can. Not those useless knights. Not Kaeya. Not anyone. Got it?”

You’re dumb on the pleasure of his cock rearranging your insides that you don’t respond that Diluc clicks his tongue, bends down, and sinks his teeth into your neck. An area he knows you can’t hide with your clothes and it’s too hot to be wearing a scarf without making it obvious to what’s happening now. The burst of pain is enough to send you over the edge and orgasm on his cock. Diluc curses under his breath at your walls tightening around him as he cum inside you as he catches his breath.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Y-Yes sir...you’re the only one. Only you. Always you...”

Your words manage to sooth him a little bit but it irks him that you’re drooling all over his countertop that he just cleaned. It’s fine, he thinks, he can make you lick it up later.

— ☆ Xiao

He's a puppy that wants to impress you, but everyone has a breaking point. The constant taunting of how, despite being a powerful adepti, he can’t even pleasure a mortal in bed sends something feral inside him ablaze.

He doesn’t want to hurt you so he focuses his efforts into fucking you so good that you end up babbling praises instead. It makes him feel so warm inside when he sees your normally smug face turn dumb as you tell him he’s doing so well.

It’s the only time you can ask Xiao to be more rough with you without him worrying about breaking you. It’s so cute to you that he tries so hard that you can’t help but tease him a bit.

“Good boy Xiao. You’re doing so well,” you whisper against Xiao’s lips as you softy kiss him. You’re finally seated on his cock with his fingers are digging into your sides, strong enough to leave marks. It took a bit of coaxing from you to get Xiao to release the death grip he had on the sheets and to move his hands to your waist. If you didn’t see hand prints or bruises the next day, you were going to make this man cry. You slowly rock back and forth as you softly moan at the feeling of his cock inside you as you make small bounces.

“Don’t you feel good?” you ask as you take one of his hands off your waist and lead his fingers to your hole where you’re both connected. Lacing your fingers together as you force him to jerk off the small length of his cock that appears every bonce you make, “Come on. Go faster. Show me what an adeptus can do.”

“A-Are you sure?” Xiao stammers out as he looks up at you worried. His grip on your body slackens considerably as you sigh before cupping his cheeks.

“Xiao. Are you saying you can’t? Is it too much for someone of the adepti? What a let down you are, if you can’t do it then I’ll go find someone that cAN-!” you choke on your words as Xiao suddenly slams you on your back and drives his cock to the hilt. This time he’s taking your hand in his as he places your linked hands onto your stomach so you can feel his cock wrecking your insides through your stomach.

“W-Wait! Xiao! Ah-!”

He pulls out harshly only to slam back in desperately as he rutts against you. His cock is practically gushing pre-come as he slowly loses his sense of rhythm. A deep feral part inside him relishes in the fact that it’s his cock that makes you like this. Pupils blown wide, head thrown back, tongue lolling out. As much as it makes your entire body tremble at the onslaught of pleasure, you can’t help but let a small delirious smile appear on your face. You reach out and cling onto him, digging your nails in so deep that he bleeds, and tell him to fuck you stupid. That he’s doing such a good job and to not stop.

“I love you, I love you, I love you” he chants as he grinds his cock into you as he cums inside and fills you with his cum. The rush of warmth has you orgasming with him. Your linked hands still on your stomach where his cum paints your walls.

— ☆ Childe

He really likes switching half way during your fucking. As soon as you’ve had your fill being on top, he’s switching the roles. He might have been crying and begging you to let him cum a few seconds ago but now it’s his time to payback.

Due to the abrupt switch, you’re still high on your ride and refuse to let his child take control. He loves how feral you both get in your attempts to dominate the other.

When he finally manages to pin you down, the blood of the scratches and bite marks are still stinging but the pain get’s him rock hard. It’s like any other fight and the feeling of victory gives him a rush.

He wastes no time in pounding into you, watching you scream as you curse him out as him laughing, leaning over to kiss you as he proceeds to rail you.

He knows as soon as he kisses you, you’re biting his lips raw. The taste of blood makes him smirk against your own mouth and he feels your exasperated sigh at his kinks. It’s a small moment of respite as you both make out without trying to claw each other’s eyes out. When you finally separate for air, there’s a red line of saliva linking your mouths together that breaks when Childe sits up and wipes his mouth.

“A bit eager are we?” he taunts as his fingers run over your skin, covered in his hand prints as marks, before settling on your hip. He doesn’t need to look to know his body isn’t any different. He better hope that he doesn’t need to change his shirt in front of the anyone or else they’ll suspect he went and fought a bear again. A cruel laugh escapes you as you reach up and drag him back down to your level as you whisper in his ear.

“It’s a pity fuck Tartaglia.”

There’s a pause as Childe registers what you said before a switch flips off in his head. He lets out a low growl as he flips you onto your stomach and rams his cock into you. He relishes in the wail you let out as he grips your neck to pin your head onto the bed as he rails you into the mattress. You’re so tight around him that he has to forcefully drag his cock out just to thrust back in. He doesn’t understand how you can stay so tight even after all the rounds you both had previously.

“You, ngh--ah! b...hah...bastard!” you gasp out and you claw at the sheets as his cock fucks you so well. He slams in so deep that has you spasming with each and every thrust.

“Behave now,” he hisses out as he bites down on the back of neck as he muffles his moans as he cums inside you. Feeling him spill inside you sends a shudder of pleasure through your body that has your withering on his cock as you cum alongside him. When you’ve both caught your breath is when you elbow him in the stomach and knock him backwards so you’re back on top. He can tell you’re pissed and he’s never felt more excited.

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings/Disclaimer: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries. Also mentions of infidelity (which I don't condone, justify nor encourage), corruption kink and loss of virginity.

A/N: Also, Yeosang's reaction is a sneak peek at the Dilf! Fic in my w.i.p.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

It all started as a way to get a passing grade for the semester, but soon became a mission to get inside your professor's pants. You still remembered the unamused gaze he gave you when you first suggested you 'help' him out.

"Nice try Miss Y/N.... but perhaps instead of wasting time behind the bleachers sucking off the jocks' cocks, maybe dip your head instead into your books and study for once."

You couldn't believe he'd actually reject you. No man had ever rejected you, they always fell to your charms. Professor Kim was about to become your biggest challenge yet and you didn't mind. Besides, something about fucking an older man had you pulling out your trusted vibrator out so many times during the night. Kim Hongjoong was just so fucking hot and you desperately wanted him, even if for one night.

"Please Mr. Kim..... you know they say I give the best blow jobs here." You tried yet again one day when everyone else left.

"They? You mean horny 20 something year olds who bust a nut by just a booby pic?"

For the first time, his poker face finally had an expression in the form of a smirk.

"Honey, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I've had my cock sucked by countless women in all my years. Besides..."

Leaning closer to you, he reached a hand out so his thumb could graze across your bottom lip.

"What makes you think a pretty young thing like you can take a mature cock like mine? You've probably never even had one half the size of mine."

You let out an involuntary moan as you pictured just how well endowed your teacher was. Looking down, you noticed the obvious bulge he was donning and you wanted nothing more than to pull him out and suck him dry. It seemed he noticed since he sat back down on his chair. Gesturing for you to come over, you practically hopped over to him, letting him guide you on your knees as he began to take himself out.

"But do knock yourself out. I'm kinda curious to see what the newer generations do nowadays."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Others would have complained and would be annoyed by the fact their new neighbors would have almost daily fights between them, typical marital disputes. But not you, you didn't mind hearing their screaming that was clearly heard through the walls. Especially since more often than not their fights would end in rough, angry sex that had you touching yourself at nights, a guilty pleasure you always looked forward to.

And you had been eyeing the husband from the moment the couple moved in. Park Seonghwa was everything you looked for in a man and even more. Handsome, mature, tall, well sculpted, responsible, sexy as hell and you knew for a fact he could definitely fuck. One day you knocked over at their door to give them one of them many pastries you'd often bake for your neighbors in the building.

"You know Mr. Park....if you ever get too frustrated with your wife....my door is always open." You boldly offered him.

He looked at you in shock but you sent him a reassuring wink before walking back to your apartment, making sure to sway your hips so he could have the image engraved in his mind. And boy did you rile him up. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you. You're all he had in his head. Now whenever he'd fight, he'd storm out and you'd welcome him, proud to get what his wife wasn't getting anymore. And you were hell bent on making sure you'd keep him to yourself.

"Cum inside me....fill me up." You told him one day.

He was so lost in his lust for you he didn't think he'd hear you correctly. Giggling, you flipped the position so you were now on top of him, bouncing yourself on his enormous cock.

"I'll give you what your wife won't give you. Knock me up with your babies, fill me to the brim. I wanna carry your kids in me." You ran your hands down your chest and placed them on top of your stomach to get your point further across.

Seonghwa was going wild by this point. He had wanted to become a father for so long but his narcissistic and conceited wife would not budge. Yet here you were offering him the one thing he wanted and he couldn't resist. Sitting up, he began pounding up into you with more intensity, sending you crying his name over and over again as his teeth began to mark your neck.

"Oh I'll make sure to knock you up babygirl. Gonna fuck my kids into you...fuck! You're going to look even more pretty carrying my baby in you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yours and Yunho's relationship was rather.... unconventional to say the least. He ended up becoming your sugar daddy after you had auctioned off your virginity online cause you were a broke college student and you honestly didn't give a damn at that point. But it was you who were in for a surprise when you met him in the hotel room and he just handed you the money without wanting anything in return.

"Just take it and don't give away something so valuable away like that."

You were so stunned by his behavior and it honestly sent some weird feeling inside you.

"But what if I wanna give it away?" You asked before he could open the door to leave. He let out a deep sigh.

"Trust me, you don't." He insisted.

Biting your lip, you took in his height and built. You weren't going to lie and pretend you didn't size him up from the moment you saw him. He probably had a monster cock that could tear you apart and part of you wanted that. Plus he was probably experienced in making love to someone so why not?

"If it's with you I really do..."

He whipped his back at your words, about to scold you but his words got caught in his mouth when you began to strip in front of him before laying down on the bed, legs spread for him and anxiously waiting for him to touch you. He couldn't resist himself. He ended up pining your tiny and virgin body under him, tearing your hymen apart and claiming you as his. He made sure you were in no pain and he had you cumming more than once. You could say it was an amazing first time.

You spent the rest of the night talking, and you ended up spilling about your economic situation. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps he was high on having taking your virginity, or perhaps he truly felt something for you. Either way you agreed to be his sugar baby, and you don't regret it one bit. Not when you get to have his monster cock in you, and he's not complaining either when he gets to stuff himself in you.

"Fuck! You're still so damn tight my little one... just like the first time."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

He tried to ignore the sound of the shower right behind the door he was leaning in. He had to. He shouldn't try to imagine what was going on in there. But as his eyes closed, he couldn't stop picturing your naked body glistening as the water cascaded down your skin. His hand grazed over his erection, wondering if perhaps you were doing something similar.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slowly and quietly opened the door, the hot steam fogging up the glass doors to the shower but he could still make out your beautiful and young figure. He witnessed as your hand played with your clit, dipping inside your folds as tiny gasps and pants escaped your lips.

"Mr. Kang...." Hearing you murmur his name sent any self-control he had out the window.

He began to strip himself out of his clothes, very slowly and in silence so as to not disturb you. Besides you looked so pretty as you touched yourself, trying to get yourself off at the thought of him. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid the glass door and soon stood behind you in the luxurious and spacious shower. You jumped slightly when you felt familiar hands wrap themselves around your waist, fingertips digging into you. You could never forget his touch, you remembered how those hands felt when they once caught you and saved you from a nasty fall.

You knew it wasn't a dream or fantasy when you felt lips pressing open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and traveled down to your shoulders. You moved your hand away to allow the person behind you to take control, his long and slender fingers finally making your darkest fantasies come true as they penetrated inside you, moving back and forth in an effort to bring you into an orgasm.

Kang Yeosang's deep and husky voice breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your body.

"You don't know how long I've lusted after you..."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

With Choi San it wasn't you seducing him. It was letting him seduce you. Ever since he saw you walk in with your short skirt, applying for a part time job at his bookstore, he had been wanting you, craved your body. And honestly... you fed him in his game.

You would wear even shorter skirts, bending down right in front of him so he could get a glimpse at your scantily clad pussy. Or you'd constantly ask him for help in putting away some of the books that went on higher shelves just so he'd put his hands around you, which he'd often keep there longer than needed. And you loved it.

One day he had been frustrated by you past his limit. Throwing away all decorum, he came up behind you as you arranged some books. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grope your breasts.

"I've been working you too hard my darling... maybe I should let you take a little break?" You became putty in his hands when he used his satoori tone with you.

You didn't stop him when he lifted your shirt up to your neck, nor when he pulled your breasts out from your bra cups. You just moaned with no shame as his fingers tweaked and pinched at your highly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck you have really soft and squishy boobs. It's like they were made for my hands."

Snaking one hand under your skirt, he was surprised to not only find out that you were practically dripping for him but you were not wearing any underwear that day.

"Shit darling, did you came here hoping I would fuck you?"

You threw your head back as he cupped your heat, rubbing at your clit.

"Yes! Please fuck me Mr. Choi! W-wanna get fucked by you." You begged him, pushing your ass behind you to grind against his very obvious bulge.

He was more than satisfied by your answer. Finally getting your consent, he no longer had to hold back. Freeing his cock which was leaking at the tip, he pushed your skirt up to expose your ass cheeks. Giving each of them a few slaps with his cock, he teased you as he rubbed his bulbous tip along your slit.

"Now my little apprentice, I'm going to show you how a real man fucks a little cunt like yours."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Spotting exactly what you were hoping to find for the night, you approached the older male and sat in front of him. Giving you a little glance, he furrowed his eyebrows as he took in your countenance.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this?" He questioned you.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." You boldly took the glass he had in front of him and took a sip before setting it back down.

He let out a tiny chuckle as you practically drowned almost an entire glass of straight vodka. You had guts, he was giving you that.

"Little lady I'm sure there are more young men your age scattered about waiting for a beauty like you to pay attention to them. So why not go find them?" He suggested.

You frowned at him, a tiny huff coming out from your lips.

"Guys my age are all idiots and little babies. Absolutely nothing fun about them."

You scooted closer to him, your hand coming down to rub at one of his ridiculous thick thighs.

"I prefer men who are more older and..... bigger." You made emphasis on that last word.

The male snorted as he let you continue your little game. He was actually pretty amused and flattered at having a young and attractive girl hit on him.

"Little lady as much as I'd love to take you back to my place and fuck you into my sheets, I'm warning you that I'm into more.... risque and exotic pleasures and honestly....I don't think an inexperienced thing like you could handle it."

The man, whom you soon found out was named Song Mingi peeked your interest even more as he confided in you that little detail. And you were more than happy to indulge in extremely naughty kinks. That's how you ended up in his bed, your hands and feet tied to each of the bed posts, blindfolded, gagged, nipple clamps adorning your perky breasts as your older lover for the night was continuing his abuse on your swollen and red pussy, drawing out orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

"Fuck! Holy shit!" He cried out, grunting in an almost animalistic manner as he pumped his cum all over your body.

Removing your blindfold and mouth gag, he looked for any signs of regret but was instead met with your fucked out face that held a tiny grin.

"Older and bigger cocks are indeed the best."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Working as an exotic dancer, you met a lot of customers and got used to having regulars. But no one got under your skin or made you lose your senses like Jung Wooyoung. Usually you didn't give any special treatment to anyone unless it guaranteed more cash in your garter belt. But there was something about him that had you constantly looking over when he was there. Every time he was watching from the crowd, you made sure every wink, every lip bite or swirl of your tongue was directed at him.

You were thinking about giving up, since weeks passed and he didn't seem to make a move on you or on any of the other girls. Perhaps he was dragged there by his friends since he always sat there idly, no expression whatsoever. When you were told someone payed to have a private show with you, the last person you expected to see was none other than Jung Wooyoung himself, sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on his hand. Pulling out a large bill, he smirked at you.

"One hundred dollars if you take off that top."

His request had your legs wobbling. Since it was a rather fancy and elegant strip club, none of you ever actually stripped completely bare, only staying in scanty lingerie. But honestly, you didn't hesitate and let the top fall to the floor. You loved the way Wooyoung was eyeing your chest, tongue poking out to wet his lip. Reaching into his pocket once more, this time he produced even more bills and layed them on the table.

"500 dollars if you remove that lace thong."

Holy crap, you thought to yourself. That was a lot of money that you weren't going to refuse. And besides, you were already wet for the older man that you would suck him off right then and there if he asked you to, with absolutely no payment. This time his hand began to rub at his crotch. Unzipping his pants, he took his long length out which had your mouth watering and staring for so long that you didn't notice the even larger stash of cash he had taken out of his jacket which layed beside him.

"One thousand dollars if you hop your pretty ass over here and bounce yourself on my cock."

Not needing to be told twice, you practically plunged yourself down on him, not caring to take your time as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. The man underneath you was enjoying himself as well, the visual of your ass clapping against his hips driving him insane.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that- oh god!"

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to slap your cheeks rather harshly, hips taking control as he rammed his cock into you. Through raspy grunts and growls, he made his final proposition to you:

"Your own place, monthly allowance and anything else you want if you leave this place and become my own personal fuck toy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Working as the personal assistant for your father's CEO friend was not easy. Not because Choi Jongho was difficult, scary and begrudgingly agreed to have his friend's daughter work for him when she had no experience, but because the man was hot. You had the hots for your dad's friend and knowing you would have to be by his side for 8-10 hours on the daily both thrilled and terrified you.

"Can't you even work a simple printer? Seriously? How stupid could you possibly be?"

You honestly didn't mind his constant insults and degradation. In fact...that's exactly what you wanted, even more if he did it in front of others. Truth was, you did know how to work a printer and do other office related small tasks. You just chose not to just to have him yell and scream at you. His anger further fueled your sexual desires for him.

Eventually he ended up finding out what your little plan was when he chanced upon you sending a fax for someone, something he had always refrained from teaching you cause he thought you'd be too stupid to do.

"Why you cunning little vixen." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw you, angry that a little brat like you was getting under his skin just to get a reaction out of him. He felt his palm start to tremble with an urge to bend you over and spank you into place.

Which he did end up doing, among other things in an effort to get you to behave or straighten up. But it never fully worked since you kept testing his patience, and he truly didn't mind. He liked your little game and he started to look forward to having his little vixen misbehave just to put her back in her place. And you lived for having him punish and degrade you.

"Look at you. You look like a common whore, letting me fuck her little hole as much as I want to."

You whimpered as his hand pulled your hair, making you lift your head and watch from the mirror as he fucked you from behind against his dresser.

"Maybe I should take a picture and send it to your dad. Let him know that his precious daughter is nothing more than a slut that likes getting her tight little hole fucked by his best friend."

You shook at his words, tears steaming down your face from the overstimulation he was putting you through. You absolutely loved it. Loved having him remind you of how wrong and sinful it was. Pressing your back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around your throat as he pounded his cock into you like the beast he was.

"But no... I won't do that. This will be our little secret."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #dilf!ateez

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary: An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble)

KIM SEOKJIN

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :)

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nightmaresofthedark · 3 years ago

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The Centre: Part 1

You live in a society made entirely of dominants and submissives. Every 16 year old takes a test that determines which of the roles you fall into, and don’t find out the results until your 21st birthday. You’re a submissive, and you find yourself becoming the property of Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor. Will you manage to escape, or will you become a mindless whore, bending to the will of the dominants? The sound of chains scraping against the concrete floor fill the hallway with an almost unbearable amount of noise. Doors either side of you, normally emitting the desperate cries and pleads of the people locked away behind them fall silent, the knowledge of what the sound of chains coming down the usually deserted hallway means, making them go quiet in respect.

Or perhaps in mourning.

Fear rattles through your body as you advance slowly down the corridor, your steps limited to shuffles by the rusty cuffs attached to each of your ankles. Your hands are clasped tightly together in front of you as coarse rope rubs into your wrists, tying them together.

You feel vulnerable. Exposed. Terrified. Like you’re walking to your certain death, or even, a fate worse than death. Every step you take makes dread build up inside of you; makes your heart beat faster inside of your chest; makes your hands shake and sweat pool on your palms. You have no escape, no way out; the guards either side of you are too big, too strong and you’re just too weak and battered to even contemplate putting up a fight. And so, you shuffle along hesitantly, knowing that every small step you take now is leading you directly to your new life.

To a life you have been dreading since the day you had arrived at the Centre.

To a life as someone’s submissive, as someone’s sex slave or domestic submissive. To a life having all freedom and free will stripped from you for the pleasure of someone else, for a dominant who, from the minute you become their property, can and will run your life however they see fit.

Submissives have no power in this world, no right to free will, no rights at all. Dominants have all the power over submissives, and whatever they want to do with that power, they can do, with little to no consequences.

When you turned 16, you took a test to determine which role in society you were to take. You didn’t find out the results until you were ripped from your bed the day you turned 21, thrown into a van and marched through the doors of the Centre to begin your training as a submissive; training that was to continue until a dominant became interested in you and ultimately bought you, taking you home to become their property.

The Centre is a training institution for new submissives with buildings all over the country. Every submissive is taken to this building to undertake training, such as: how to address dominants, how to act in public and in private, how to be a good submissive, and how to hold positions for hours on end. No submissive is allowed to be bought until they have completed 6 months of training, to make sure the submissive has had sufficient training to please the dominant they’re bought by.

Dominants had it easy compared to submissives: they had a weeks training in their own home by an experienced dominant teaching them how to safely care for a submissive, and after that, they were free to fuck and train and ‘care’ for a submissive however they pleased. They had power, rights, free will, freedom, and no consequences for stepping out of line.

Submissives, on the other hand, are completely at the mercy of the dominants. If a submissive is unclaimed, any dominant who chooses to can do whatever they want with that submissive, but when a submissive is claimed, only the dominant they belong to can touch and speak to the submissive.

It is never a rare sight to see a naked submissive being punished publicly for misdemeanours and being unruly; to see a smiling submissive purposefully breaking an unimportant rule their dominant set out for them just to be thrown over their knee and spanked; to see a scared, shivering submissive crying out in agony as a cane is smacked against their naked bottom while they’re being throat fucked by some of their owners friends.

There are a huge difference in the ways people take being a submissive; some enjoy it, and really embrace their role in society, which is why you will see smiling collared men and women taking their punishments or rewards gladly; others hate being a submissive, hate having their free will taken from them no matter how well their dominants treat them.

You fall under the latter category, desperate not to become the property of the dominant who has bought you, which has led to your slow, lonely walk down the hallway.

A large iron door approaches, and the sound of keys rattling from within the pockets of the guard to the right of you makes you freeze. Every muscle in your body tenses, and every thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to escape, to fight and live your own life away from this society and it’s backwards roles.

But, the moment you freeze up and stop shuffling, both of the guards grab your arms and drag you to the door, not hesitating for even a moment before they’ve got it open and they’re pushing you into the next room, where all your nightmares that wake you up at night become a reality.

Two women stand next to the man who oversees this Centre. The blonde woman stands tall and strong, her toned muscles filling the button-up shirt she wears as she stands with her arms crossed. She looks strong, hard, but her blue eyes betray a hidden softness, perhaps one you will come across if she ever shows you mercy. In contrast, the raven haired woman next to her stands with her hands clasped in front of her, her emerald eyes hard and stern, depicting a strict and precise demeanour.

The three people stand in silence as you’re dragged over to them and pushed onto your knees roughly. A guard grabs your hair in his fist and uses it to pull your head down harshly so you avoid eye contact with the dominants above you; one of the most important rules you learn when you first arrive at the Centre: never look a dominant in the eye unless given explicit permission, always keep your eyes and head down in submission.

Your knees begin to ache as the cold of the hard floor seeps into your bones and makes you shiver. Your naked arms and legs erupt into goosebumps, and your teeth begin to chatter as you feel the stares of the dominants above you on your skin, their eyes working their way across every inch of your body.

You can hear the trainer talking, but his voice is muffled and unclear in your ears as you stare at the floor desperately trying to avoid looking at the tall heels in front of you. Thoughts of escape and what it would feel like to have your free will back run through your mind. Images of living in your own house with the ability to walk outside without a collar or being naked; of going to the grocery store and buying whatever food and drink you wanted; of having friends that you could drink and party with; of having a girlfriend and maybe even a wife who doesn’t take complete control of your life fill your mind, making you wish for a simpler time, a simpler life with freedom and no rules.

You find yourself getting lost in the images of your dream life, of your imaginary wife and kids, of your freedom and ability to do what you wanted, not what someone else wanted. You wish you were strong enough to fight, to struggle, to try everything to escape; but you know it would be futile, and only end in agony and humiliation for you. And so, you just let yourself get lost in the images of another life, letting your muscles relax and your head drop further as the trainer drones on about your training and how well you had performed in tests, no doubt telling the two dominants that you were untouched, which will only drive your price higher. Virgins always get sold for a higher price, especially if they’ve done well in training, which, out of fear of punishment, you have done.

You were almost the definition of a perfect submissive; apart from the fact that if you ever get the opportunity, you will be running as fast and as far from this life as you can.

A hand gripping your chin and tilting your head up startles you from your thoughts. A gentle thumb caresses your cheek, but the emerald eyes staring down at you are hard and stern, a big contrast to the soft movement of her thumb.

“Hello darling,” the woman purrs, her voice calming even to you, “I’m Lena, and this is my wife Kara.”

You risk a glance at the blonde, but quickly return your gaze to the floor as you nearly make eye contact.

Lena continues, and says the one sentence you have been dreading ever since you were dragged through the doors of the Centre:

“We’re your new dominants.”

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #top kara danvers #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #top lena luthor #supergirl #supercorp #supercorp x reader

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yourlocalshittywriter · 3 years ago

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The Duty of a Hero

Author’s Note: Howdy folks! I’m here with my first proper fic and I really hope that y’all like it! This will be exploring what could’ve happened if the Dabi that Aizawa fought wasn’t one of Twice’s clones. Since this is a fight, I advise the folks that are sensitive to things like that to click off and read another fic. Also, since this story does change scenery and moods a bit, I included some songs that change along with the the stories mood! This is mainly just because I like showing off my music taste and shit. Here’s Part 2!

Songs to Go Along: The Fighter by In This Moment, Acid Bubble by Alice In Chains, The Great Gig In The Sky by Pink Floyd

I felt extremely at peace for once in life. I felt the normal crackling of my joints silence into a warm nothingness. My aching muscles that had been torn to shreds time and time again, the ones that had been strained and stretched beyond the limits of the human body seemed to reform perfectly as they melted into the rest of my numb form. My skin, a forest of calluses, scars, stitches, and open wounds felt as if it was no longer there. I was no longer confined to the space of my body, and instead moved around as freely as water or air. I was a sort of goo, unmoving, stationary, simple, yet free.

With a quirk as self-destructive as mine, becoming a hero was a sort of death wish. My quirk was known as “pain transfer.” Anytime I made eye contact with a person, I could activate my quirk and subject myself to pain only to have them suffer the pain of the injury for as long as I was looking at them. I could also transfer existing pain to my target. Although I may have had a wicked high pain tolerance and quick recovery period, my humanity was bound to catch up to me eventually. Quirks like mine, “villainous quirks” according to most people, should be kept hidden and the people born with them should go on to live normal lives as ordinary civilians. My parents were among these people. When I told them that I was enrolling in the hero course at UA, I was given the choice to either become a hero and be disowned, or ditch my pipe dream and stay their beloved child. I packed my things that night.

It was a miracle that I passed the entrance exam the next day. I was running on little sleep, the loss of my financial support, and the trauma that came with the realization that your parents didn’t love you anymore because you didn’t live in a way that they approved of. I had trained since my will to become a hero first arrived, a sort of passionate drive that crashed into my life so unexpectedly that the impact nearly gave me whiplash.

I supposed that that inferno of, what? Spite? No, not spite, something deeper, hotter, and more righteous than spite. Let’s say ardor. This ardor was what drove me to take out as many robots as I could, despite the fact that my quirk was utterly useless in this situation. I took out a decent amount of robots, at least, decent enough to get into the hero course. A lady by the name of Recovery Girl healed me before I went on my way. I thought that I just had a few scrapes and bruises, but apparently I had a broken wrist. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the worst-off there, some poor kid broke both of his arms and one of his legs.

The time between this moment and when I got into UA seems to have flown by. I came into UA, a semi-blank canvas, and now here I was, bleeding out on the campsite that I planned to spend my summer at with my classmates. Dying feels far less painful than one would assume; you really don’t even realize that you’re dying at first. It’s sort of like that feeling you get after eating a warm meal after starving for so long, sickening at first, but comforting after you grow used to it. It’s like taking a hot bath after spending a day in the snow; it burns at first, but the burning subsides into a comforting numbness. Your senses slowly dull into nothingness but your brain is left to conjure whatever image it pleases. I could have seen dead relatives, met idols, or even pictured an alternate life where my parents still loved me, but I didn’t.

I didn’t want it. Fame, fortune, admiration, acceptance, rebirth, none of it. I wanted none of it. I wanted to live. I wanted to do what I swore to do as soon as I got into UA. I wanted what I signed up for when I packed my bags and left my parents’ house at age fourteen. I wanted what I fought tooth and nail for. I wanted my ambitions and goals fulfilled.

Of course I wanted what I had worked for, that was beyond obvious, however, I also wanted the small things in life. I wanted my afternoon tea with Yaoyorozu, Sato, and Todoroki. I wanted my fashion shows with Aoyama, Ashido, and Hagakure. I wanted my midnight conversations with Shinsou and Tokoyami. I wanted my video game sessions with Kaminari and Sero. I wanted my morning meditation meetings with Shoji, Ojiro, and Koda. I wanted to watch pro-wrestling with Bakugou and Kirishima. I wanted to train with Iida, Uraraka, and Midoriya. I wanted to swim with Asui. I wanted to listen to music with Jiro and Mr. Present Mic. I wanted inappropriate jokes with Ms. Midnight. I wanted to make Mr. Aizawa proud; I wanted to make myself proud. So, with so many incredible things to live for, I opened my eyes, and attempted to move.

Much to my distaste, it turns out that my relief from pain, as well as the disassociation from my body was nothing more than a thin veil that was easily permeated as I rose from near death. The forest was nothing more than a verdant blur, one that was far from easy to navigate. However, all things end eventually, so I decided to run from death and wherever I ended up would be the least of my worries. I sprinted through the disorder and dysfunction, and wound up walking in on my teacher fighting the son of a bitch who had left me to die a lonely death with only the company of insects and whatever plants were to take over my wilting corpse.

As Mr. Aizawa tackled the cremation villain, I rose from the forest, stared at the man in restraints, and activated my quirk. As the pain transferred from me to him, I felt the veil of insensibility slip over me once more. The villain howled out in agony, the very agony that he had inflicted on me only minutes before.

“Whatever you do, don’t break your gaze Eraserhead!” I chimed as I finally straightened my form, not wanting the hero to see me in such a state, “You’ll just have to trust me on this one!” Mr. Aizawa nodded, keeping a steady gaze on his target.

“Tried to kill me off?” I snarled as I made my way towards the sadistic bastard and beloved teacher holding him in place.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” the captive growled through gritted teeth, still under an amount of pain that would knock-out any average human. He looked beyond pissed that I survived, as if he took offense to the fact that I didn’t appreciate his work. I waltzed over to him, just far enough from Mr. Aizawa, but just close enough to the charred villain.

“Surprise, I remain,” I cooed, low enough for only the villain to hear. He bared his teeth at me, looking at me as if he were some sort of rabid animal. I wanted to taunt him. I wanted to make fun of the fact that he had been taken down by a high schooler and their teacher, but I knew that it was never good to brag, because Karma would usually come to bite you in the ass for it.

I stared at the man covered in staples, every blink I took releasing him from the effects of my quirk. Every blink motivated me to continue staring at him, to immobilize him so Mr. Aizawa could use his eye drops or blink, to buy him some time. However, I knew that this game of “pass the villain” could only go on for so long. Something had to be done. Eventually, the patchwork villain would catch both of us off guard and use his quirk, or one of his buddies would come and back him up. Mr. Aizawa and I were miles away from my peers or the rest of the pro-heroes. It was just the two of us up against this villain, and we were growing tired.

Only minutes after the realization had struck me, the villain escaped from Mr. Aizawa’s scarf when the two of us accidentally blinked at the same time. The human crematorium stood before us, and before I could use my quirk to disable him, he shot out a flurry of blue flames my way.

I dodged this attack as Mr. Aizawa ran towards the villain, yelling out the name “Dabi.” Before Mr. Aizawa was able to restrain him, Dabi grabbed the erasure hero and threw him headfirst into a brick wall, effectively knocking him out. I desperately wanted to check on my partner in battle, but I knew that I couldn’t let my guard down, because now Dabi was staring me directly in the eye.

I could attempt to charge at him, but I would be charred to bits, and even if I somehow managed to avoid his flames, I would meet the same fate as Eraserhead, knocked out and at Dabi’s mercy. I was screwed, I had no back up, my teacher was unconscious, and I was face to face with one of Japan’s most notorious criminals. I was dead meat.

That was until I devised a plan, one that would take out the cremation villain for good. One that would end his reign of terror once and for all. However, there was only one downside to this plan, and that was the fact that this plan would result in two casualties, Dabi and me. However, if I went with any other plan, Mr. Aizawa and I were to become the victims while Dabi walked off scot free.

I was destined to become a martyr.

With that realization, I turned to my teacher who was slowly coming to his senses and gave him a gentle smile,

“Eraserhead, it has truly been a pleasure,” I announced as Dabi’s arrogant gaze turned to one of confusion. As Mr. Aizawa slowly faded back into his previously comatose state before he had time to be confused, I focused my gaze back on the blue-flamed bastard. It was time to end it, to end his rule once and for all.

I reached into my pocket, grabbed a tiny weapon that fit perfectly in my hand, locked eyes with the villain, smirked, and painlessly slit my neck. As Dabi grasped his neck and choked on his unseen blood, which was truly my blood, he fell to his knees.

As I took what I knew were my last steps, I came face to face with the first half to my murder-suicide. He glared at me, an amalgam of agony that felt nothing at all, and snarled.

“I’ll see you in hell, you cunt.”

I laughed, of all the things he could’ve chosen to be his final words, he chose to give into the childish desire to have the last word with me. As his oddly-familiar eyes drained of life, I felt the pain I had so carelessly inflicted upon myself finally hit me like a freight train.

I began to choke as I fell to my knees, similarly to how Dabi had fallen only seconds before. I knew that my time was up soon, I would succumb to my injuries and lose the thing I had fought tooth and nail for only moments before. I looked to the horizon to find the sun casting his loving gaze upon my battered body. It was as if Apollo himself was granting me a warrior’s death, like he knew I had made some kind of a righteous sacrifice that warranted a soothing transition from death to afterlife.

The sunrise was something like I had never seen before. The blues burned brighter than the flames I had defeated minutes before, the yellow pooled around my weary being like an evening gown to a death dance, and the red painted a comforting scene in the clouds, as if to distract me from my own red that painted my body and the ground around me. I smiled my final smile as I walked into the loving embrace of the sun.

My duty as a hero had been fulfilled.

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forcefullyawake · 3 years ago

Text

Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.

Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?

Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader

Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting

WC: 4.8k

You look like an idiot.

There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.

It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.

People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.

Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.

Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.

“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.

“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.

“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”

You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.

“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.

She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.

“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.

You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.

“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.

“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.

“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.

“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”

“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”

“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”

“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.

Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.

With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.

Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.

They only look red in your memory.

Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.

You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.

Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.

“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”

“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.

“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.

“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”

No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”

That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.

“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-

“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.

Now all you have to do is wait.

It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.

“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”

“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”

“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.

Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.

“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.

“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”

“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.

“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”

“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.

“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.

“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.

“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.

“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”

“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.

“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.

“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.

“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.

“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.

“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.

“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.

“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.

“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.

Now what?

“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.

It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.

You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.

Mikasa isn’t between your legs.

Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.

“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.

But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.

“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.

“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.

“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”

“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”

“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”

He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”

“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.

And not even slightly afraid of him.

“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”

“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.

“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.

Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?

More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.

The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.

“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”

“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-

“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”

“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

But Eren doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-

You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.

People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.

“We can’t keep her.”

“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”

“She’ll go to the police.”

“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”

“Historia was a child.”

“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”

“Fine. But Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“Next time she’s mine.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”

That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.

“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”

“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.

She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.

You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.

But you know better.

Monsters aren’t real.

#collabs #mikasa x reader #eren x reader #noncon tw #gaslighting tw #violence tw #non human sex tw

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obae-me · 4 years ago

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Hi again! If it's not too much trouble, can I request the brothers reacting to an MC who usually bottles up their anger (they have a LOT of patience) until one day they just explode? You are an amazing person, and thank you for everything! I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard!!

Hi, welcome everyone to another episode of Mara Doesn’t Know When To Stop, this time featuring this lovely request! I had a small idea, which then turned into five whole pages for Lucifer alone, so, I will also be doing this request into parts, I really hope you don’t mind! I get a bit carried away sometimes...I admit it... Anyway, Lucifer’s part is first! I hope you like it! 💜

Warning: Angst, arguing, cussing, It does lead to a happy end though, it’s a bit cheesy but sometimes we love it

We All Get Angry Sometimes

Word Count: 2707

He was fully aware of MC bottling up their true emotions. Being well acquainted with angels, he knew, despite all their holy patience, that even they had their limits. He will admit, he was impressed and proud with how far they had taken it, being human after all. Their control was practically as good as his own. No matter what his brothers did, what they said, how much they pushed them, for weeks MC just smiled and swallowed it. He was pleased. Until they could no longer retain their anger, and turned it all on him.

It had been at dinner, nothing unlike their meals every day, except recently Lucifer’s nerves had been on edge. It had been a few days since he had been blessed with adequate sleep, and his brothers were more bothersome than usual. Little did he know, MC’s mental state was about the same, close to the breaking point. An unhappy MC meant unhappy brothers, which meant it would all lead back up the ladder to Lucifer. There was only so far MC could be shoved around, only so long they could stay calm, and Lucifer had been the last straw. No one can really remember how it started, it hadn’t been important, simply some passing comment from one of the brothers discussing recent school projects. MC had scoffed, explaining their thoughts on how ridiculous the rules of said assignments were. Then it all went downhill from there.

“I’m not sure it’s your place to be making claims like that based on what your grades have been looking like recently,” Lucifer quipped. The rest of the siblings prepared to stand up for the human, knowing that MC was typically passive in nature.

Only, that same human beat them to the punch. “So, you’re saying that because I don’t meet your lofty standards, I’m not entitled to my opinions?” MC set down their fork, sending chills down the other demon’s spines as the room went silent.

Lucifer narrowed his gaze, already annoyed with their tone. “I’m merely explaining that maybe your statement would have more merit if you worked a little more at your studies instead of slacking off. And for the record, no, you haven’t been reaching my standards. I honestly expected more from you.” Every member of the household felt that line deep in their bones.

MC’s jaw clenched, the fire building up in their chest overwhelmed them to the point where if they shoved it down any longer, they felt like they would explode under the pressure. “You expected more from me? What more could you possibly want?! You’ve taken my home, my family, my friends, my culture, my time! You’ve constantly belittled me, ordered me around, expected nothing but perfection from me, and you still want more?! What have you possibly done to deserve more of me?!”

He was stunned at first, yes, but it didn’t last long. The shock factor was quickly replaced with a wave of fervent irritation. There’s no surprise he was already in demon form, doing his best to intimidate MC into submission. His eyes were glowing that deep red of his, looking down at the human as he got to his feet. His siblings slowly raised up from their seats as well, at the ready to intervene at any second. This whole event had them astonished to their core. Mammon and Levi had their jaws open. Asmo had his hand covering his mouth. Satan would have appeared proud of MC if not for the wary frown. Beel was instantly engaged in protection mode, already in a stance to grab onto Lucifer if he needed to. The eldest was barely able to control himself. Somehow MC had gotten deep under his skin, his body prickling with anger. “What have I--I’ve brought you into my home, ensured your protection, done nothing but make sure your experience down here is sufficient for your fragile little life! Do Not speak to me that way. Know your place.”

MC was physically vibrating from rage and frustration, their mind clouded with fury. Logic was far out the window now, they simply were saying whatever came to mind. Profanities were no longer held back. “I’m sick of your pompous holier-than-thou shit! I’m sick of working my ass off for you and not being good enough! You have a serious fucking lack of respect for everyone around you!”

The air was thick with his aura, his wings fully extended from his body. “Not another wor-”

“Fuck you!”

In a quick blur of motion, everyone worked together in tandem. As Lucifer lunged forward, his brothers held him back. Mammon scooped MC up in his arms and raced to the safety of their room before MC could get hurt, although deep in his heart he hoped Lucifer wouldn’t resort to violence. Lucifer growled inhumanly, flinging his brothers off of him in a single swift movement, ready to pursue the person that dared attempt to say such things to his face.

“How pathetic for you to have gotten so riled up over a few words from a human,” Satan shouted at him as he got up from his spot on the floor. Swallowing the small lump in his throat, he hoped this would prove a decent distraction as well as a way to snap his brother back under control.

Lucifer loomed over him. Satan seemed hardly disturbed. “Watch yourself.” But Satan’s words proved efficient, Lucifer’s Pride wounded as he realized how quickly he allowed MC’s words to get to him, how quickly he had lost control. All of his sibling’s eyes were on him, observing how he was acting. His head was pounding, but instead of heading up to MC’s room, he swiftly retired to his private study where he locked the entrance behind him. He paced around the area for a while, magically turning on some soothing music as his wings twitched in vexation.

He had been completely unprepared for MC’s retaliation, for their venom towards him, but perhaps he knew there was only so much a living being could take before they snapped. Had he been pushing them too hard? Expecting too much of them? Mistreating them? Had he gone too far? What if this spat ended up becoming a problem for the program? What if MC relayed this to Diavolo? His image, his reputation, they would be tarnished. Did MC think less of him now? Did he really care what they thought of him? He was better than this. He expected more from himself. He lowered his head as he sat heavily down into the chair behind his desk. He sunk down low, proper posture be damned. As he took a deep breath in, he realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while, lungs aching. He hadn’t meant to rub MC the wrong way. He simply strived to lead them towards the potential he knew they had. All he wanted was for them to feel proud of their accomplishments, to show the world what he knew they were capable of. But perhaps, it was unfair for the same standards he kept for himself to apply to MC as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose as that deep breath turned into a heavy sigh. He had failed in nurturing the success they’d already accomplished. He’d made them feel like they weren’t good enough, and now look at what he had done, in front of his family no less. Humiliating.

Meanwhile, Mammon was in the process of rubbing MC’s back as they lay on their bed, screaming into their pillow as angry tears fell from their eyes. They hadn’t meant to snap at Lucifer, it all...was just so much. They finally had cracked from the pressure. Everyone’s expectations had gotten the best of them. Be a human representative. Don’t let anyone down. Don’t show weakness. They weren’t purposefully slacking off from their studies, they just were burnt out, almost completely. Lucifer demanding even more from them...was the last thing they needed to hear today. Their own words made them feel sick to their stomach. Being angry wasn’t like them, it never sat well, which is why they always attempted to bury it in the first place. Mammon continued to tell them to breathe and calm down, doing his best not to freak out himself. He’d never seen his human act like this before. After some time, they both heard a polite knock on the door. As MC tensed, Mammon got up to answer it on their behalf. Lucifer was waiting, back in his casual clothes as his arms were settled folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here so soon,” Mammon scowled. “I won’t let anything happen to them, ya hear?”

“Nonsense, Mammon, I have no intention of harming them, I just want to talk. Calmly.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think they’re in the mood for talkin’.” Mammon did his best to let his body block the entrance to the room, his shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door frame as he made his stature appear bigger. Lucifer peered over his younger brother’s figure, spotting MC sitting with their legs crossed on top of the bed, mostly calmed down as well, refusing to look at him. He noted the tear stains on their cheeks, and he resorted to having to clench his own teeth to stop the bubbling guilt rising up in his chest. He would make this right, if he couldn’t do this, how could he possibly call himself the wise and mature older brother?

“It’s...okay, Mammon,” MC assured him. The demon of greed scoffed, stating much too loudly that he would be right outside the door. He threatened his older brother not to even think about laying a single finger on them, unafraid of any punishment when it came to protecting MC. Lucifer waved him away with a single hand, too exhausted to deal with him further. As the door shut, he strode over to MC’s bed, chin high but spirits low. He had no intention of apologizing first, but if he could just persuade MC to start, he might be able to swallow enough pride to follow.

“Have we calmed down now?” He asked, MC simply nodding in response. “Very well.” He paused for a moment, letting an uncomfortable silence settle over the room. He did have many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to rectify, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Not yet. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me?”

He observed them fight back their irritation before slumping their shoulders as they gave in. “I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

“And?” His voice sounded like a parent scolding a child, causing MC to nearly flinch in humiliation.

They bit their lip. “And the things I said to you were uncalled for. I know how much you do for all of us...for me.” They sat up a bit straighter as they stammered over the thoughts they wanted to say, to explain their feelings. They were afraid to be honest and vulnerable, much like he was, but they had the courage and humility to be open. It was a trait he secretly admired. “I just...I’m finding it difficult to--to find the--the energy and motivation to make everyone happy. And...and it hurt when…” They looked down, swallowing their emotions once more as they halted their watery eyes from crying again.

Lucifer let his body unwind ever so slightly. It would be rude of him now to not follow their example. “I...regret my words and my actions. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, it won’t happen again.” He let the conversation fall once more as he took the time to straighten his coat around his shoulders and his gloves tighter over his fingers. “It was not my intention to invalidate your efforts. You’ve already accomplished more than I originally thought you were capable of, and it was foolish on my part to expect more from a simple human.” His rather backhanded compliment forced MC to rest their face in their hands in shame. The nerves in Lucifer’s spine shot a jolt up his back as he realized how terribly this was going. His temples were pounding, and he finally put his pride aside for the sake of reconciliation. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of their distress. MC stiffened as he sat himself beside them on their bed. A gentle hesitant hand hovered above their body before it settled between their shoulder blades. He glanced at the door where he knew Mammon was behind, probably listening in, and so he spoke softer. “I’m...sorry.” He had to ignore how harshly the words hurt him, but something about it was freeing. “I seem to have pushed you too far. I am thankful and truthfully astonished of what you’ve done during your time here. Not only did I cross a line today but I was blind to the fact that you’ve been overtaxing yourself. I know how hard it is to juggle my siblings and my work.”

He allowed his hand to drift up and down their back in a soothing rhythm, relaxing some himself as their muscles eased at his touch. MC finally raised their head from the confines of their palms and looked him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a disappointment? A burden?” He found himself stunned for the second time today, and for a while he wondered when it was that he could be so easily swayed by the words and emotions of this human. Here he was, not only apologizing, but expending every effort he had in consoling them. He wanted MC to be happy again, because somehow it seemed to make his days a little brighter, his mood a little softer. Perhaps...he cared more for them than he realized. Their shouts had wounded him deeply at dinner, but somehow these new words hurt him more. Their forlorn face spurred an unfamiliar pain in his chest.

“I’m sure it will be hard to convince you after the unforgivable things I said to you today, but it could not be further from the truth. I suppose the fact that you question yourself is one of my biggest failures. Clearly, we have not been communicating properly. For that I am..s...sor…” The words got caught in his throat. Apologizing once had been difficult enough, a second time seemed impossible. Out of the blue, he felt a tight set of arms wrap around his torso. He held his arms up in the air, his body turning rigid as his little hairs stood up on end. MC had pulled him into a tight hug, burying their face in his side. He felt their nose nestle against his ribs. As soon as he found his breath, his arms slowly lowered, settling around the smaller human. His body felt warm. Allowing himself a small smile, he cleared his throat. “I would prefer a situation like this to never happen again, do you understand?” MC detached from his sides, sitting back up as they nodded silently. “So, for the future, instead of quarreling with me, I expect you to come straight to me to discuss any woes or issues you may have. Fair enough?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers against MC’s cheeks. “But it would be remiss of me to ignore the faults of my own. Since our meal was interrupted, what do you say to me taking you out to dinner, as my way of making amends?”

MC felt themselves blush a bit. “Sure-”

The door burst open, Mammon leading the charge as the rest of the siblings spilled into the doorway. They’d all been eavesdropping. Mammon came over and tugged MC further away from Lucifer. “Oi, what did I say about touching MC?!”

“And our dinner was interrupted too, I think we deserve something!” Asmo whined.

A loud grumble echoed from Beel’s gut. “I’m starving…”

Lucifer’s eyelid twitched a bit, and he gave MC one last apologetic look before he sighed. “Fine...we’re all going to dinner then.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Okay rockstars, settle down

rockstar!bucky barnes x assistant!reader x rockstar!loki laufeyson / masterlist

summary; having previously worked for loki, it causes a heat to burn within bucky’s already accumulated hate towards the musician / warnings; threesome, smut, mxf and mxm sex, mentions of sex with other characters, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, double penetration, degradation, swearing, orgasm denial, cum eating

“Can’t believe you worked for that wanker.” Snarked Bucky as an image of the well known, musically spread, and acoustically acclaimed, Loki Laufeyson was shown on the screen of the dressing room television, as the other artist stretched his clothing bare arms across the back of the couch. “Come here sweet cheeks.”

At his command, you dismissed the paper work for a moment, trailing over and straddling the inked hunk’s chain belted lap, digging your manicured set of nails into his shoulders, as you seated yourself over his crotch. “I’m happy I work for you now Buck, you treat me so good.”

Punctuating your words, you pressed your teeth into your bottom lip, giving it the appearance of being more plump, as you batted your dark eyelashes up at your employer. “I do, don’t I?” He rhetorically asked, skimming his fingers across the length of your arms, before moving them to sloppily cup your jaw, ensuring that you would not look away from his wild and dilated pupils. “Tell me what I do better than the lead singer of the god of mischief.”

At his words, a small yet peaceful contortion of uncomfortableness split a skin grafted line through the centre of your forehead, stating that you had no wish to do so. And thus, as punishment for your self aversive silence, Barnes braced his knuckles into your skin, causing you to keen out, and tap his shoulders in verification for surrender.

In turn, you lowered your hands, dragging the tips of your nails, absentmindedly running them down the expanse of his waxed chest, conveniently passing the silver hoops that were attached to his nipples on the trail to a less dominant ground. “I prefer the way that your songs have a heavier bass and-“

“Uh uh uh, not the music. Think of something that has you, let’s say, screaming, but definitely not in a crowd. Though, we may have to try that one sometime; show the world how hungry you are to assist me.”

“You, James Bucky Barnes,” he loosened his grip to your relief, which lead to you hugging in spite, “are the best fuck I have ever endured. Loki has nothing on you, he deems himself a god of the arts, but he doesn’t see how you paint me so perfectly with your cum, nor how you bend my body to your whim, as though I am a tool in the midst of your creations, useful, but disposable.”

“I like the sound of that doll. Disposable, now that really does you make you sound like my personal cum dump.”

“That’s was certainly interesting to listen to...”that voice had your body jolting in shock, and it appeared that Bucky too was surprised by the presence, though, he steadied his well versed hands on your hips, claiming you to the intimate spot.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room you greasy haired weasel?” Bucky sneered, his nose turning up at the sight alone of his competition in the lyrical world. Loki, he had graced you with his presence, and you had to look away; he admittedly looked good.

His shirt was open chested, leaving you with the memorable impression of all the times that you had left crescent marks upon that particular surface, a few times you had even drawn blood, but that had only fuelled his mission to fuck you into a propeller of urgency.

“Our new album Laufey has just been released, I can confirm my dear, you shoulda stayed around and knelt in our success. The records are certainly going to have more sales than what was it called again? Ah yes, the red star. I could tell it was about this one, so much passion, a sultry tune, that did little to justify what it means to be with her.”

Loki’s hands waved around as he spoke, and you could only picture the past whence he penetrated your with those long and talented fingers of his. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you, resulting you to be nothing more than a withering mess, as he digressed the option to simply stop. There was nothing simple about him, nor the time that he demanded that he shared you with his brother.

That thought alone had you mindlessly grinding upon Bucky’s covered cock, plucking at your lip with the keys of your teeth, though Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to pause your movements embarrassingly, venting a clear out of your head to process the situation that was before you. The two were bickering like two teenage girls, and it was quite exhausting to listen to.

“Answer the question trickster, else I’ll have you fed to the infamous black panther, and let’s just say that he is the best bodyguard I have ever hired. So, are you going to speak, or will I have you dragged out of here like a damned serpent with a noose around its neck?” Bucky threatened, gritting his teeth together, his nose straining in frustration, drawing more attention to the small stud on the right side of his nose.

“Looks like she needs me Barnes, perhaps your reputation does not proceed you. But to answer in full, my band have made quite the rise, and I thought it would be... fitting to pay you a visit. Though I had no idea that this wonderful woman would be here, pining on your lap like some feline in heat. I see she’s fucking you now, after all my suspicions are never wrong. Or we’ll, Heimdall’s train of thought always ends up at the right station.”

“Can the pair of you stop, for one goddamn minute!” Your hands obscured a path into your hair, as you glared back and forth between the pair of rival rockstars. “I am here, dammit! Stop talking about me as though I am not here, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t so I didn’t have to listen to your bitching.”

Without any thought, you clambered from your perch on Bucky’s lap, walking towards the raven haired gentleman, pointing your finger in his face as you accused him. “You’ve got your point across, but I’ll tell you something. If you don’t leave, Heimdall will see me putting my foot up your ass.”

“Does she speak to you like this Barnes? I thought she had loosened up in more ways than one when I allowed Thor to stretch her cunt, but it appears that that mouth of hers has gotten a little out of hand also. You should do something about that, or else you’ll lose her to someone else like a did. Who knows, could be Romanoff, heard she has a thing for brats.”

Natasha Romanoff, a diverse woman in her ways and songs. She was the queen of the rock culture, tormenting her workers with her verbal abuse and it would undoubtedly be no different for her assistant. If you were to be under her employment, it was certain that you would not get out alive, nor work for another talented person for the rest of your life. To cross her, was a vow to sign your own death certificate, it was plain stupidity, yet people still hustled with her and her limits, resulting in their chances of ever getting hired for any job, vastly slim to none.

At the lack of defence that Bucky provided you, you felt small, your shoulders slacked as you were tortured with Loki’s cold and silky gaze, more so when the man stood up, pressing his bare chest against your back. You could feel the rings that hung off the buds that adorned his chest coil and dig into your back, shrouding your demeanour substantially.

A part of you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to abuse Loki’s face with his fist, specifically the right, since it was the bearer to a chunky silver ring. It’d leave quite the print, however, the unexpected unravelled as his enquiring tone was aimed not at you, but Loki instead.

“You let your brother fuck her, hmm. Maybe she should learn her manners by being shared, that way her retrospective spattering of bullshit may be contained, to a limit of course.” It was unbelievably, you could not believe that Bucky was conferring with the enemy! And not only that, they were talking about experiences of having you literally become speechless from their unprofessional administrations upon your body. “I’d get T’Challa in here, but I know she’s already fucked him. Can’t quite fire him for it though, because who could ever say no to those pretty eyes, and that mouth, god, it is definitely one of her most persuasive attributes.”

“Bu-“ you didn’t even get to finish imploring his name off your lips, about to defend yourself and your previous actions, though, you were interrupted, starved from the opportunity of coming up with an explanation.

“No.” Loki told you, the roles now reversed as he was the one with his index finger aimed at you. He tapped your nose with it, as he began to pace in the room, his wild locks remaining in their place as he spun, before facing Bucky, a sly tranquility of a truce veining out from the pools of his evergreen orbs. “You don’t speak a word to me y/n, not whilst I’m having a conversation with James here.”

James. It was too far a polite way for him to address your boss. They were all hot and ready to tear out each other’s throats a moment ago, and now here they were, having a silent conversation without your inclusion. It had you reeling your mind as to why, until Bucky gathered your hair in his hand to the side, sliding you y/h/c locks over your shoulder, and finally deemed it acceptable for you to hear his voice.

Though, he still was not directing his tensive words in your direction. “Since you had dealt with this subordinate behaviour from her, perhaps you’d like to join us; help me train her to become more...” His breath fanned your the top of your ear, making your skin crawl by not only his warm and inviting breath, but also the offer that he had supposed to the other man.

“Obedient?” Loki asked in turn of his wispy ended offer of optimism, his leather, sharp tipped boots taking a prominent, heart clenching step towards you. He reached his finger out, grasping a loose strand that had fallen out of Bucky’s grip and before your face, tugging lightly on it, as his lips came dangerously close to your own. “Rules aren’t your forfeit, are they my dear? The best assistant I ever hired, with all those unique ideas floating around in that independent head of yours, but you’ve always been troublesome. I remember the time that you bit my cock that day you had attitude. I reckon Bucky here could do a better job.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” You hissed as said man tugged on his handful of your hair, instantly making you regret your phrase in the moment. To a halting surprise however, Bucky released you, lightly shoving you to cause you to fumble forwards, and away from him.

“Maybe I will.” He dared, earning a nod from Loki, whom seductively began to unzip his loose trousers, as Bucky descended to the ground, his hands running up his rival’s thighs, as the material dropped around Loki’s ankles. It would seem, that he had gone commando, and as Bucky grasped Loki’s shaft, you felt a pull in your chest inherently demanding that you play some part in this fornication.

“Wait.” Your hand shot out, as though you had some force to stop them from continuing with their war path to exact all of their developed spit onto you. “What about me?” You were ss

“Oh no doll, you are not pulling any strings here, if you wanna do something useful, come here and warm my cock, you can watch me blow your old associate.” A slither of a whimper fell from your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you were prying towards, but you sure as hell were not going to refuse the contact that Bucky was obliged to give you.

Thus you wandered towards him, your pinkies curling around one another, as you sashayed to the ground beside him, watching as he paid Loki no mind for a moment, ruthlessly in a desperation fuelled motion, unbuckled his thick belt, and shoved the material of his leather trousers to be held accountable against his lower thighs, just above his tense knees.

He too, as their exteriors supposed, had forgone the extra layer that kept his cock tucked away, though it was exposed as he tugged those tight trousers down, and the sight of both his and Loki’s cocks bobbing in the same vicinity had you close to quivering.

It was somewhat of a dream portrayed in the viscous space of reality, the two men half undressed in then proximity of yourself, it was something that you had always imagined, even before you had left Loki’s side, and opted to work for Bucky, but the idea was definitely short lived. They hated each other, but apparently they were willing to put all their issues aside to prohibit you from freely running your mouth.

Bucky’s cock twitched as he patted his own thigh, ordering you without the aid of his voice to commence it as a servant’s throne, or in your case, a stool for you to rest on as he tended to intimate needs of the man that you had once worked for. Finally, with the decision of better judgement, you allowed your grey jumper dress to slide down your body, leaving you nude, and the aspect of the two men’s unforgiving and locked gazes.

“No underwear, and you wonder why your men have no difficulty in her allowing them to fuck her.” Bucky took ahold of his cock, squeezing his cock with one hand, whilst his other aided you in sitting on his muscular legs, as he lightly growled up at the opposing rockstar.

From the stiff grip that Bucky affirmed around his sceptre, Loki gasped, his pale lips instantly shutting once the sound wantonly abandoned him. The last thing that he wanted was for Bucky to see him in vulnerable poise, though with that said, it’d be rather difficult considering the smutty circumstances.

Bucky took Loki’s long, alabaster prick into his mouth, starting from the primrose tip and descending down, reciprocating the action that you did yourself as you sheathed yourself onto his cock, but instead with his lips. A grunt rendered along Loki’s length as the man bit back a whimper, the vibrations running through his veins like a transpiring pulse of sorcery.

Bucky opted for bobbing his head, as you endured the liberation of his very slightly gyrating movement inside of you. Though, despite him being almost completely still and leaving you full to the brim with his thick length, his balls resting against the partition where he was delved into you, you remained transfixed.

The motion image, recording first hand through your own eyes, of him blowing Loki was sinful, but you were drawn to it. If that made you a sinner, one endorsed by the graphic scene, licking your lips from the sight of Bucky running his studded tongue up the length of Loki, dipping the ball of silver metal into his slit, then so be it.

Your heart raced as you were met with an opportunity. A globe of saliva, strung by the lapping muscle of Bucky’s tongue dropped down; you practically saw its fall in slow motion. It was done before you could register your actions, you had leant forwards, catching the trickle of spit in your mouth, thinking not for a moment as you gulped the subjective liquid down.

Bucky’s pace increased, he gagged lightly as he jolted him further down his throat. Loki hummed, harshly grabbing Bucky’s dark brunette locks, biting his lip as he reimagined your little catch. It had him feeling close, and just as he was about to finish, precum furiously pooling out of his tip, Bucky pulled back, a smirk marking his features.

“You’re not cumming in my mouth, I don’t mind sucking dick, nor swallowing, but I have to practically listen to you jizz over your own talent, and prowl over my girl.” The name he labelled you with had your heart fluttering, but not nearly as much as when he lightly pulled out of you, infuriating you with the lack of any pleasurable esteem. “Don’t you worry babes, you can finish with me inside of you, like always.”

That used to be him, Loki thought with a brewing rage in his chest. Though he instead shrugged out of his dull patterned striped shirt that was already loose on his shoulders. The fabric hit the floor, leaving all of you barren to the subject of nudity.

“Always doesn’t suppose the past Barnes.” Loki stated, referring to all the various times that he had found refuge in your spongey walls, you willingly clenching around him, and pleading for him to hit a deeper spot within you. “And I do not prowl, I don’t need to. The evidence is there between her legs, coiling in juices surrounding her ever so willing folds, that are prepared to endure the harshest of penetrations.”

“What are you trying to do, write a fucking song about this?” Scoffed Bucky, rolling his crystallised orbs at the guts that this man had. If he so much as wanted to, he could stop this passage into a three way all together, but he did not, at least he had yet to. He was enjoying the way that you were squirming to yourself, thinking that he didn’t notice, squeezing the sides of your thighs together in an aroused matrimony.

“A fucking song would’ve the correct term - literally.” Was the affirmed words of Loki, as he shoved Bucky to be sat beside you, tilting his messy brush of crazed hair, his untrustworthy eyes drifting to you. “Who’d you want to fuck you, you fangirling slut?”

It was truthfully a difficult decision. “Both.” You admitted, your bones jumping as Bucky pinched one of your erect nipples, continuing to hold a sturdy clasp of his pads around the sensitive flesh; you couldn’t jut choose one of them. Not when they were both in such close range, bore in nothing more than their birthdays suits, talking about your quivering and diversely accepting cunt.

They knew that you couldn’t possibly refuse one or the other. You were vastly too hungry to be filled like you had never been before, shagged by two of three most well known artists in the industry, earnestly and mindlessly earning yourself a title within the circle of uptight yet simultaneously chill performers.

Perhaps, if Bucky we to ever potentially fire you, there would be another pursuer for your articulating talents on standby, awaiting for the moment that you walked out of his complex door to swoop you up as though they were a predatory falcon, flying off into a stationed sunset, those around seeing you as nothing more than a shadow of the ambient orb, but the one who had employed you finding you to be a sufficing inspiration.

Large hands swallows your hips, firmly controlling their angle as they grasped you in their strong, almost super human hold, lifting you so that you were tentatively tucked in a reverse cowgirl position on Bucky’s lap. It was the third time that you had been this close to him, it would almost be intimate, if your legs weren’t strewn in an open, all revealing splay, so that Loki could see your boss tease his tip around your entrance before sliding you down his length, extracting a strong wail from your churning throat.

Your own hand resented down, applying swirls of pressure down on your clit; it appeared that they were willing you to continue without interruption. Bucky lightly, despite the power that he was promoted to in this position, began to bounce you on his shaft, spewing small mewls out from your agape mouth.

Fisting his cock, Loki approached, Bucky reachin this seen hands down to spread te lips of your pussy, so that the other man was guaranteed a crude glimpse of you being stufffed. Though, you weren’t quite filled enough, for Bucky raised a brow and prompted Loki to allow himself to be pulled closer by your axed and whining aura.

He brushed his tip languidly against your buzzing clit, dragging through your slick and jab i at your delicate fingers before probing at the base of Bucky’s cock, and pushing inside, right along his rival’s length, the pair moaning out in a pleasured union. On the other and, you had tears falling from the crescents of your eyes, the stretch so much that it was a blistering pain to your cunt.

“Don’t go all meek dear, you and i both know this is far from the first instance where you’ve had more than one cock in this nasty, betraying cunt of yours.” Loki taunted, gripping the vulnerable expanse of your throat from behind, his icy glazed skin sending provocative shivers down your spine, making your pussy pulse from the chill that ran through your body.

And then, i a split instant, both cocks began to piston into your walls, as though you were nothing more than a rag doll, meant o be thrown around and handled in a disorderly fashion. They ere ruthless, groaning out symphonies in the cursive air around you, as your walls engulfed their pricks more than snugly.

You felt so wide down there, they were taking a pirating toll on your body stealing every breath that dared wither from your lips, tweezing their nimble fingered around various parts of your body, all in due retrospect or coerce you into fucking them back, making all actions in the mass of bodies a mutual effort.

Loki lowered his head down meeting Bucky for a sloppy, brash kiss. It was clear they were simply doing that part to fulfil a greedy desire in your stomach, but you were not one that minded. It was, like the rest of their frenzy of collaborations, a competitive mess. They nipped harshly at each other’s lips, ravenously all in the meanwhile ploughing your body with their har girths.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your tongue dribbled, earning satisfied, lust induced smirks from both parties that were currently penetrating you, making you writhe harder against their lengths a new flow of moisture weeping out from your hole, lubricating their movements further, it encouraging them to do nothing more than continue what they were doing, despite their better judgements.

The truth was, they were rockstars. They had no better judgement, which is why everyone like them needed someone like you. Their thought were clouded with one mission, and for once in their spent lifetimes, it was not to beat the others, at least not to a certain extent anyways. It was their assignment, delivered by their own hands, to bring you to the edge, and that’s physically what they reformed to do.

One of them were groping your nipples, whilst the other confined the same treatment to your ass cheeks. Loki found your Rocky enables of positive feedback to be icicles and they were beautiful, he stared at them, as though they were divine ploys extracted from the mythical kingdom of Jotunheim, their residence in the realm to be the peacemakers of all bountiful creatures, much like himself and Barnes.

A rich euphoric groan exuberated from Bucky as he allowed himself to spoil, but he tutted whence he watched Loki’s features suppose that he was to follow shortly behind. “Not inside of her.” Bucky growled, sufficing Loki to roll his eyes, and pull out, the man behind you furiously replacing your hand, rolling our clit in his grasp until a sinful scream enveloped the air, commencing them all to the fact that you had just came.

Loki found the show to be unfair, and instead, spilled his priceless seed onto the huffing skin of your stomach, you eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling pooling onto you. You leant back, drawing your neck into a crooked angle as you swiped your tongue wordlessly over the piercing on Bucky’s right nipple, metal providing a relief to the heat that your body was and had been swarmed with. “ Last chance you’re gonna have t taste her sweet cunt.”

“You do certainly have some faith in this one Barnes, but I do doubt that it will be the last instance in which i am todo so.” His silver tongue pried at your cum soaked flesh, drinking up all the essence that you had to offer, onshore the flavour that Bucky had brought to the table, i the form of a succulent drizzling of Snow White cum.

As Loki finishes swabbing his tongue over your cunt, Bucky adoringly kisses you, much sweeter than he has before. It was sort, and almost chaste, but his blue eyes roamed your face, delicately observing the high points of your face, that were covered with a sheen of great force making you as he would put it, glow.

The pair of you weer exhausted, there was still some swollen was to his lips from where he had sucked off Loki. His hands cradled you around your waist, his feet kicking Loki back as you whimpered from opaque sensitivity. “I guess that was you bidding me a dew.” Sneered the trickster, fishing for his clothes, as he spared you a spark filled glare, to which you ignored.

Once he was situated back into his attire, he left the sex scented room,a hollow smirk chapping his lips as he strutted th a purpose out into the hallway, taking a left instead of a right, and creeping into barnes’ studio to see what the man was working on in the midst of his enduring tour/ He was always the trickster, and nothing different was to ever be expected out of him.

“That was good.” You mumbled, rubbing your ode lovingly across the scruff that coated his jaw. His fingers made small circles upon your tummy, humming contently as he remained sheathed inside of you. He had to admit, he preferred it when it was just him, but his lonesome, sheathed within your walls, feeling the small trembles of your walls around him. It was practically heaven, and he would say so if he believed in such a place.

A deliberate knock ruined the moment, as the man entered,he quarrelled with himself where her to casually look in the direction of the pair of you or to avert his sight around, and blankly at the all. “What is it T’Challa?” Grumbled the man inside of you, quirking a thin brow at the timing of his presence.

“Loki; he managed to get into ur data, and he’s leaked a whole bunch of your music.” Of course, Loki would not come here to simply gloat, there was alas something extra up his green sleeve, and now it was revealed.

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky made a move to stand, but instead prohibited a whimper out of you as hi ships jutted angrily tip on instinct. “Get Odin on the phone, we’re going to have a little chat about his slippery hands son!” Barked Bucky, prepared t do anything to bring his greatest threat down, compiling him into the put of hate industry, until he was forgotten about, unable to ever produce new music again.

“Talk to Sif.” You whispered, becoming the image of his assistant once more, even if his cum lathered cock was prevailing within a rut of required stress relief, growing in the conjunction of your wall with his body guard there. “She loathes him, and rightfully so. He got her kicked out and she has dirt on him that nobody else has ever heard. If you want to take I’m down, she is your in.”

The strict tone grammatically supported by your logical information was definitely turning Bucky on again. He could handle you more than fine without Loki’s aid, he was just a means to an end, as it was clearly shown in his priorities.

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forcefully-awoken · 4 years ago

Text

This was requested here.

Rating: E

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, use of kitten name, slight over stim, my shit writing, dumbification if you squint

Summary: Aizawa loves it when you whimper for him.

You didn’t know what to do in this state.

Christ, Shouta had only sent you a text to be ready for him and you were already dripping wet. He was late getting off of his patrol, and though you logically knew he wanted to swing by for a quickie at most, that didn’t stop your body from going onto red alert. It hasn’t stopped you from pulling your body to the limits you could on your own. You had played with your nipples, rolling them around in your fingers until they were sensitive little things. Stuffed your hand down your underwear and rubbed your clit until you were just on the edge of an orgasm. You had pulled all your own strings, imaging it was his hands on you. You had treated yourself as Shouta would, figuring he was looking for a brief respite before returning to the UA dorms.

You certainly hadn’t been prepared for him to use his for emergencies only key to creep into your apartment. He was outside your bedroom before you heard him, your own smaller fingers trying to stretch yourself out for him. One of his usually light feet hit a loud floorboard and you froze, fingers barely grazing that sweet spot inside of you when the door slowly swung open. Your mouth was poised in a perfect ‘O’, ready to alert the whole apartment building to the intruder before you realized who it was.

Shouta was standing in your doorway, hair floating around him, eyes red with his quirk activated. You’d know his eyes anywhere, especially like this. A shudder tore through your body, as violent as a storm, thinking about the noises he must have heard creeping up to your bedroom, the whimpers falling from your mouth, and the lewd way your fingers pressed into your cunt.

“Were you touching yourself, kitten?” His voice sounded genuinely curious, like he hadn’t instructed you earlier. You knew he would barely be able to see you, not with the light from your alarm and through your curtain drawn window, but you nodded your head anyways, unable to find your voice. “I asked a question.”

You find yourself unable to answer, words caught up in your throat. All you can do is let out a high whine, right when your fingers manage to find your sweet spot. You know, logically as he might say, that you need to remove your fingers. You need to answer him. But it feels so good, and you’ve been so close that it’s hard to listen to that logic. Your hips pressed upwards, and you could hear his sharp inhale in response.

You knew you looked a mess, too. Clothes scattered around the room where you had thrown them in a fit to get them off, legs spread over your sheet, your covers thrown to the end of the bed. Three fingers, so much smaller than his own, coated in your slick juices. Your hand was covered in them, freely leaking from your core. You felt hot everywhere, a thin sheen of sweat already covering your body. The light flicked on and you could see him take in your appearance. The red left his eyes, hair falling around his face. Now it was his turn for his mouth to drop open, before he tucked his lower lip between his teeth, deep in thought. Neither of you moved, though you could still feel the pulse of your cunt around your fingers. You held him in your sights for what felt like ages before he pounced on you.

His hand gripped your wrist, tugging your fingers out of your pussy and into his mouth. He cleaned them thoroughly, smoothing his tongue over the skin, every little crevice of your fingers cleaned. He sat between your legs, cock clearly hard in his pants, mouth stuffed with your fingers. The sight of him like this was almost enough to make you cum, the debauched way he looked at you now setting a fire in your core. His free hand made its way between the two of you, his fingertips trailing through your lips until they met your clit, causing you to jump at the contact. He pulls your fingers from his mouth with an audible pop.

“Is this all for me, kitten?” His voice rumbles out of his chest, low and throaty, already drenched with his need for you. Once again you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. He’s hardly touched you but already you’re out of your mind with a need for him. His head tilts at you, dropping your hand to the bed, and leaning over you until his face is right next to yours. “What’s this? Can’t speak already?”

His fingers slip into your cunt at the same time, two of them stretching you more open than three of yours could. Your head tilts back as you let out a high whine, hips pressing up against his fingers, trying to get more of the friction you so desperately crave. His lips find yours to devour in a greedy kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth easily. Your arms come up to cling at his shoulders, pressing your chest into his, feeling the way the rough material of his hero uniform scratches up against your sensitive nipples. His lips move to your jaw, biting and sucking as he dips even lower.

“You got yourself all ready for me, hm?” He asks against your collarbone, before sucking a mark onto it. You can hear the teasing lilt in his voice, but it doesn’t quite register for you. Already your toes are curling, and his fingers remain immobile in you despite your hips trying to move on their own. “Did you want something from Daddy? I didn’t tell you to do all of this for me, you know.”

This statement stops your hips short- he had texted you to be ready for him and you had just assumed this was what he meant. Embarrassment bloomed in your chest, and you whimpered at the realization that you could have been wrong. You don’t have time to think too hard on it, though, not when his fingers slip out of you, and then his wrist snaps forward to shove them in again.

“I’m teasing you, kitten,” His words draw another whimper from you, “This is exactly what I wanted to see- my precious little kitten all wet, and open, and ready for me.” To emphasize his point he slides another finger into you, pressing them all the way inside of you, searching for your sweet spot while his palm grinds against your clit. His longer fingers find it right away, and with a few brushes of his fingers you’re cumming around him with a whine. His body rests on yours as you twist and wiggle underneath him. He doesn't stop moving his fingers though, not until the first tears prick at your eyes and he can hear your tiny whimpers grow louder. He tugs his fingers out of you slowly, letting little shockwaves of pleasure spark in you.

“Poor dumb kitten,” He sighs out, pulling away from you to stand next to the bed. He shakes his head down at your whimpering form. “I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already a pathetic little mess for me.” He strips himself slowly out of his hero costume, giving you time to recover even a little bit, and also take in his form. There’s nothing you love more than watching Shouta undress- beneath the dark, almost baggy material he was strong, muscles firm and flexing under your blissful gaze. Soon he was naked in front of you, nearly posturing like a peacock to your delight. He shot you one beautiful smile, full of love, before returning to the bed, this time laying out next to you. No words are spoken as he arches one eyebrow at you carefully, and pats his thigh in invitation.

You scramble onto him as quickly as you can, ignoring the shaking and burning in your thighs as you do. You hold yourself over him, letting Shouta take the lead now. He grips his cock in one hand, running it through your folds, letting it gather juices, laughing when the tip of him brushed over your clit and you jumped. Once his cock was slick enough with your juices though, his other hand came up to your hip, helping him line up with your opening. Your legs gave way as soon as the head popped in, and you let gravity do the rest, sinking onto him in a boneless pile. Shouta groaned low in his chest, feeling your cunt flutter around him, squeezing him for everything.

“Kitten,” He says, voice strangled like a vice, “You have to relax. F-fuck, you’re still so tight.” You’re not sure how much more relaxed you can get, not in charge of the way your cunt reacts to every drag of his cock through it. His hands grip at your waist tightly now, almost painful in the way his nails dig into it. He helps you grind your cunt around him, making a mess all over him.

“Feel good, kitten?” His voice reaches your ears, but you can’t reply, not like this. You’re split open on his cock, drunk on the way he makes you feel. Only little noises escape your mouth, though they serve to entice him on. “Gonna move you now, okay?”

There’s hardly anytime for you to reply, not when his hands move you up and down his length. It’s almost impersonal, the way he moves you like you’re nothing, grunting in your ear all the while. He slides you up and down, mumbling obscene things in your ear the entire time- how much he loves fucking you, how good you feel around him, how much he can’t wait to fill you with his cum. Your moans increase in volume as he goes on. There’s a flame flickering low in your belly, slowly being stroked to life. Wet noises reverberate through the room, a testament to how well he plays your body.

“Cum for me, kitten, you can do it, can’t you?” His voice is almost pleading now- you know he’s close, the way it trembles. “So cock drunk, but I need you to cum for me, wanna feel you milk my cock.” His voice is the final push you need, and your body goes still, taut as a bowstring, as pleasure rips through you like a tidal wave. You cum with a scream, and Shouta fucks you through it. He presses in deep when he cums, paints your insides white with his release. You lay on him, shaking like a leaf, while his hands trail up and down your back, trying to calm you down. You rolled yourself off of him with all the delicacy you could manage, curling up into his side. You can hear him hum softly in contentment, as your eyes drift shut with sleep. With his arms wrapped around you, you can feel yourself let go, sleep overtaking you just as you hear him say-

“Sleep tight, kitten.”

#aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #have my worst writing T_T #tw dumbification #tw overstim #tw unprotected sex

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

Note

would u possibly do some NSFW morbell? where they're up in colter ( i loved ur original morbell post on them ) pls do more as i love ur blog 💛

this is an absolute mess oml i literally have no idea how to write anything smutty but here we go i guess. I love this pair but i kinda went off topic and centred this on a praise kink for micah. ANYWAY this is probably terrible since i'm melting, its literally 40 degrees and the aircon is broken so its unedited af and i wont look at it again until i have a cold drink. but pls enjoy some morbell <333

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

‘Cold up in Colter’

Fuck, what a mess Blackwater had been. The Pinkertons were on them faster than ever and they found themselves fleeing from a blood bath.

That was almost three days ago and Micah hadn’t had an ounce of sleep. He’d been sent out with John to scout ahead, having found a homestead which ended up burning at the hand of O’Driscoll’s. Okay maybe house burning down was his fault but he tends to make stupid decisions when he’s had little to know sleep. And it was so fucking cold.

That didn’t stop heat rising to his face when he felt Arthur’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back with a roughness he could only wish for in another way. Damn Arthur Morgan and his ability to have Micah curling in on himself and blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of a hand on his shoulder.

He should hate Arthur, really the two are nothing more than rivals, competing for the spot of Dutch Van Der Linde’s right hand. At the beginning, almost six months ago now, Micah couldn’t stand the sight of the man but somehow that anger tapered off into something more akin to admiration and that admiration slowly turned to desire.

He’ll never admit to how badly he wants Arthur but he won’t deny however that he’s pushed the man’s buttons more than once just to have an interaction with him. All he had to do start a silly argument over camp earnings or a bet at five finger fillet to have the man shaking him by the collar and threatening to break his nose.

It almost always ended with Micah sneaking off into the woods with half a bottle of whiskey and his pants bunched around his ankles as he thought of the way Arthur roughed him up by his shirt collar. Fuck he was pathetic sometimes.

There were other occasions where the two had actually managed to get along and that’s what pissed Micah off more than any threats of violence. Arthur just had to go and bring him a beer as he grabbed one for himself, letting their fingers touch accidentally. Or he went and offered him a seat by the fireplace where they ended up much to close for his comfort. Damn Arthur for always leaving him short of breath with a hole in his heart.

Despite what Micah did to impress Dutch, Arthur was still the camp’s favourite by a mile and he never failed to outcompete him in the eyes of the gang. Micah never minded much, not looking for anyone’s approval, but the thought of proving himself to Arthur, of being worthy of his praise is enough to have his wild side reined in.

Naturally that didn’t stop Micah from losing it from time to time and wasn’t surprised when his jealousy shot up again as Miss Grimshaw announced Arthur got his own cabin while he shared with the rest of the fellers. And he’d be damned if he had to share a room with Williamson who didn’t stop snoring.

That’s why he found himself huddled in the makeshift stables, choosing instead to wrap himself in his coat and down a bottle of whiskey to wait the night out. He cold planks he was sitting on offered little comfort and the draft in the room had his lip shaking. But at least he wouldn’t have anyone in his hair and he’d be left alone, just the way he liked it.

Of course that didn’t last long when the cranky wooden door was barged open, spooking some of the horses in the opposite end of the room. A broad figure entered the room, blocking most of the door way but that didn’t stop to whoosh of cold air flood into the room, draining even more colour from his face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed and the man stepped closer when he realised it was Arthur.

“Micah? What the hell are you doing in here?”

Arthur sounded surprised, with only a hint of concern in his voice.

“Sleepin’— what the hell ya doing here Morgan?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Arthur, only a quiet noise which was barely heard over the whistle of the wind between the planks. He walked over to the horses, checking over them and ensuring none of them were freezing to death. Micah watched in silence, scared to disturb the man as he patted along Taima’s neck.

It wasn’t until after Arthur had checked over all the horses did he turn his attention to Micah.

Micah watched as Arthur’s gloved hand extended out and offered itself to him, he hesitated before taking before taking it and being pulled to his feet. Arthur’s hand draped over his shoulder which he didn’t realise had shaking in an effort to keep warm, having drunk the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Common now, yer gonna freeze in here alone.”

Micah dug his heels into the ground, not allowing Arthur to pull him any further to the door as he tried to hold his voice steady. He’d be damned if he ever let Arthur know just how much he affected him.

“I ain’t sharing a bunk with Williams—“

Arthur tutted, pulling Micah out the door as he pushed him towards his cabin in the snow storm.

“Quit yer yapping, you’re sharing with me and I ain’t having any more folk die tonight. Now let’s go.”

Arthur didn’t utter another word until they were well and truely in his room, wrapped in a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of them. The bed wasn’t much bigger, having been made for one person which was evident by Arthur pressing against Micah’s back in efforts for them to fit. The only thing that kept them apart was the fabric of their jackets, otherwise Arthur would probably hear Micah’s heartbeat which was beating much to fast for his liking.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Micah cursed under his breath which caused his teeth to chatter and Arthur spoke up.

“Yer still cold, c'mere”

Micah’s breath fell short as Arthur’s hands slid under his coat, resting his hands on his tummy to use his body heat as a source of warmth. In doing so Arthur had moved even closer, ensuring Micah’s back was flush against his chest.

Despite that Micah wanted to protest, to go straight to his default of arguing he couldn’t help but feel as he began to warm up and he slowly relaxed under his hands.

A blush rose high on his cheeks as Arthur also relaxed into their embrace, accidentally letting his hands drift lower until he felt the hard press of Micah’s straining erection against his knuckle.

Micah instantly sucked in a breath, panicking and trying to push his way out of Arthur’s hold.

“Shit Arthur I—“

Micah froze as Arthur gently pulled him back to the bed and rubbed slow circles along his stomach.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not mad…”

Arthur held him close, letting him relax before talking again before he whispered right into the shell of his ear.

“…This what you want? Is this why you’re always staring at me from across camp, why yer always picking fights and asking me to robberies?”

A high pitched noise left Micah as he shivered, feeling Arthur’s hot breath against his ear. His blush deepened as he pushed back slightly into him, whimpering at the feel of Arthur’s own erection pressed against his ass.

Fuck it, he thought as heat pooled in his abdomen and he finally allowed himself to have the one thing he’d been craving for months. He nodded frantically, grinding back onto Arthur’s clothed dick and squirming in his grip.

“Relax boy, gonna give you everything you’ve been waiting for— just be good and you’ll get it”

Micah nodded in agreement, a needy, desperate sound leaving him at the promise of praise. He wanted, no needed to be praised by the man so badly that he’d do anything for an ounce of it from the man.

“Oh god Arthur! I need it, need you. Fuck I can be good I promise.”

He knew he was probably being too loud but apart of him didn’t have it in him to care. He moaned softly as Arthur moved him to roll onto his back, towering over him but ensuring they were still kept under the blanket.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes undressing him without exposing much of his skin to the cold. He unbuttoned the lower buttons of his leather jacket, enough for Arthur to work his fly down and pull one pant leg off. He whined pitifully, grabbing at the lapels of Arthur’s coat in a silent plea for him to undress him properly.

Micah mentally scolded himself at just how desperate he was for Arthur to rip his clothes off and fuck him like a bitch in heat but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. Arthur however caught on pretty quickly to what he wanted, it seemed the man knew just what made him tick.

“I know sweetheart, once we’re well and truly outta here I’ll get us a room and we can do this properly.”

Micah’s eyes beamed at the thought of Arthur taking him to a hotel in the future, panting as his mind raced with images of Morgan making him fall apart on his cock for hours on end.

While Micah was busy in his mind, Arthur took the opportunity to retrieve the gun oil from his satchel. It certainly wasn’t the best option but it was their only choice with their limited supplies.

Arthur draped himself back over Micah’s body, kissing at his jaw and nibbling as he coated his fingers. The air was cold, only making the oil feel colder as he slowly dipped his index finger past Micah’s rim.

A devilish grin came to Arthur’s face as he heard Micah sigh and take his finger easily, deciding to work his way up to two sooner than he was expecting.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time haven’t you? I saw you once, bout a week ago. Head down, ass up with three of yer fingers inside you while you cried out for me to fuck you. It all clicked in my head then when you started acting different around me at camp.”

Micah flushed a deep red, coughing on air as he realised Arthur knew about his little crush. He tried to think of an excuse, to weasel his way out of it but his thoughts died in his head when Arthur twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching him open before adding a third.

Arthur dragged a lip along Micah’s cheek to his lip, ghosting his lips over his before kissing him properly. This time Micah didn’t even try to fight for dominance, opening his mouth instantly for Arthur’s tongue to enter. Instead he sighed into it, pulling his legs to wrap around his waist as his hands wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

It went on like that until Arthur was satisfied that Micah was well prepped enough, simultaneously rubbing against Micah’s prostate while he kissed him deeply. He only pulled away to pull his own leaking member out, bunching his pants around his thighs so he had enough room to move but could stay warm. He coated the rest of the oil onto his member, jerking slowly as he stared down at the sight of Micah below him.

Micah looked like an absolute mess against the pillows already, his face was flush and the scarf around his head had unwrapped slightly, revealing his disheveled blond hair. His chest was heaving as he panted and his thighs shook from pleasure as the weakly wrapped around his waist.

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart”

To say that Micah hated the pet name was a lie, one that he didn’t try deny as he moaned softly. His back arched and he gripped Arthur’s coat tightly as he felt his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole. He’s wanted this for so long now and yet somehow it still didn’t quite feel real as his mind was clouded with arousal.

Micah’s toes curled and he moaned when he felt Arthur push into him, slowly inching forward until he felt him bottom out.

“Ah— ah! Oh Arthur fuck! Please fuck me, I’ll be good I swear.”

Micah practically sobbed with pleasure as Arthur set up a fast pace, pulling almost all the way out till just the tip was left inside his tight hole before pushing back in quickly, brushing his prostate in the process. His cock twitched from where it rested against his tummy, pinned between Arthur’s jacket which caused a string of moans to fall from his mouth.

“Look at you, so good for me— fucking perfect Micah. Such a good boy”

Arthur’s hands came to hold onto Micah’s hips for leverage, pulling on his slight muffin top under the jacket to help pull him back to meet his thrusts. Beneath him he heard Micah whine and whimper at the praise so desperately needed to hear.

Micah bought a finger up to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to silence any more noises he deemed to be pathetic from slipping out of him. He hated how close he already was just from being praised by Arthur.

It seemed Arthur wasn’t having any of it when he pulled his finger away from his mouth before kissing him like he had done not that long ago. He swallowed every one of Micah’s noises, mindful of Dutch sleeping next door and slowing his thrusts to something deeper and slower.

His hands roamed all over Micah’s clothed body, breaking away for air and whispering praises down his ear.

“That’s it, make those pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

Micah eye’s rolled into his head as he cried out.

“You’re mine, all for me— my good boy.”

More moans slipped from his lips.

“Atta boy— taking me so well, so good.”

His back arched and he withered in his embrace

“So eager to please aren’t you? I’ll take care of you now boy.”

“—Arthur! I’m close— Ah, I’m gonna—“

“Go on sweetheart cum for me…that’s it good boy.”

Micah’s whole body when rigid as he finally came. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling out as his orgasm dragged out with each thrust Arthur delivered, eager to chase his own.

He collapsed into the pillow, thighs shaking as he whined at the oversensitivity. It didn’t last long before Arthur’s thrusts changed pace to something more erratic, picking up the pace as he spilled his load inside him.

Arthur groaned into his neck, pulling him close and collapsing into him as he regained his breath.

He pulled out slowly with a wet and obscene pop, sitting up and helping Micah put his clothes back on. Micah only weakly managed to fiddle with the button on his jacket while Arthur gently manhandled his jelly-like limbs to fit back into his pant leg. He used the blanket to wipe the cum off his tummy, a weak attempt at cleaning up and something they would both no doubt regret come tomorrow morning but for now they were keen to sleep after such a horrific and chaotic few days.

Arthur pulled Micah into their original position for the night, the only difference being that his face was now tucked into his chest. Arthur rested his chin of Micah’s head, littering his hair with kisses as he played with his hair between his rough fingers.

Micah was the first to fall asleep, curled up with his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur wasn’t far behind him either, finally letting himself get some much needed rest but not before he pressed a soft kiss to his hairline.

#morbell #micah bell #arthur morgan

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