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eddiesghxst · 1 month ago

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CRUEL INTENTIONS - part three: eden

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, smoking and alcohol use, blood kink, chasing kink, masked man, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of a threesome, descriptions of heavy guilt, corruption kink, mentions of subtle bullying, mentions of shitty parenting, slut shaming, SMUT - 18+ , oral (m and f receiving), cum play, cheating (not on reader), NON-CON/DUB-CON, and stevie having gay panic <3

word count: 9.9k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/ DUB-CON, manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Please fully read the content warnings before proceeding. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you're not comfortable with it!

I previous part | next part I

I series masterlist | -main masterlist- l

Steve has a very strict night routine.

Five days out of the week, Steve has rugby practice until 7. Most boys on the team simply take a quick shower and call it a night, but no, Steve has a step-by-step routine that he follows each night— not even Nancy could sway him from the path of his night routine.

Because you see, when Steve was younger, his parents were prissy and precise. Everything was done on time, and every hour had a task. If Steve were to ever stray from that schedule, he’d be made to feel like a failure. It’s ingrained in him, woven into his DNA, this life of doing things by order.

So it’s a little shocking (and concerning) that Steve immediately threw his nightly ritual out the window the second Eddie told him about tonight.

And it seems as if this will be a reoccurring theme with you— Steve altering his life just to get a glimpse of you. Because ever since you came along, it’s like Steve’s entire world has been flipped and lit on fire. He can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. Has to hold your name on his tongue when he’s balls-deep in Nancy because, fuck, you’re the only thing he wants right now. He feels bad, but not enough to stop.

“You’re not fucking her yet, but she has to at least get used to you being around.”

Which is true, Steve supposed. Eddie is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If Steve hopes to ever swing his dick near the pot of gold between your legs, then he has to at least work a little bit for it. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about you running off and telling someone about it.

Trust. Though a distorted version from your point of view, it is still an essential part of this plan.

Steve doesn’t know much about said plan, which is kind of his fault. Because when Eddie approached Steve after a particularly rough day at practice, Steve kind of told Eddie to fuck off, so Eddie just left him with a quick, “If you ever plan on fucking her, then I suggest you haul your ass to my room tonight, asshole.” So, Steve had no choice but to follow through on that.

Because Steve will never get through to you without Eddie. Because Eddie is the catalyst. Eddie is the bridge that Steve needs to reach you— which is annoying because now when Eddie’s got his fist wrapped around his cock, and he’s thinking about you and how pretty you looked with his cum coating your lips, how good you taste, and how pretty you sounded— those familiar brown eyes slip into frame and suddenly Eddie is right there along with you— lingering. Like a phantom.

Steve can’t stand it.

But he needs you. He needs you almost more than he needs air. Because Steve usually gets whatever he wants in the blink of an eye, but you…

You’re forbidden fruit.

And sitting next to you, so close to you, with you squirming and avoiding the screen that displays some cheap porno— Steve thinks he might explode.

You turn to Eddie, shy and scared, digging your fingers into his shirt and tugging. “Eddie, I don’t—“ “Shh, bunny. We’re watching a movie. Didn’t I already tell you not to talk?”

You frown, big, wide eyes soft and wet with tears. You don’t like this; that much is obvious. And Eddie’s struggling to keep a grin off his face like a cocky bastard.

There are soft moans spilling from Eddie’s TV. Two guys, one girl, and oddly enough, the girl looks like you. Steve thinks Eddie did that on purpose, and he can admit it was clever, even if you might be slightly too dumb to notice.

They have the girl on a cheap leather couch, splayed out on her back, with one guy stuffing his face between her legs and the other guy thrusting his cock deep into her throat, wrapping a hand around the bulge in her neck.

You press your legs together, shifting in your spot again, and Steve catches Eddie’s eye. Eddie subtlety nods towards your lap, giving Steve the green light (not that he fucking needed one), and Steve scoots closer to you.

Steve places a firm hand high up on your thigh, fingers spread deep into the insides of your thighs as he lowly says, “Sit still, sweet girl.”

You frown, caught between two walls with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run— scared little thing, you are.

Steve smooths his hand over your thigh, gently squeezing and molding your skin to his touch, soft and firm yet not enough to bring you pain— Steve doesn’t think he could ever hurt such a sweet thing like you.

The porno is in full swing now, the two men fucking the lady like it’s the last thing they’ll do, and you have big, full tears running down your face as Steve pinches your skin to open you back up. He slinks his hand higher, the lip of your skirt kissing against his wrist, making way for him. His pinky dusts across the hem of your panties, wet as he had expected— all of you wants him, even when you act like it doesn’t.

You gasp and tremble between the boys; your eyes squeezed shut with tears rolling down your cheeks thick as rivers— you look like a small bunny cornered by prey. Precisely what you are.

Eddie coos, shifts so he’s facing you more comfortably. He gently holds your face and coaxes you into opening your eyes. “You like it when Stevie touches you, don’t you?” He says.

You open your mouth to respond, but Eddie quickly butts in, “Ah ah…” He raises a finger to his lips, reminding you that he doesn’t want a single word falling from your lips. And you listen so well— without a single protest— Eddie’s done well on you thus far, but Steve likes to believe you have an obedient nature either way.

Sentenced to silence, you shake your head no, and Eddie laughs. Soft and deep, brown eyes swimming with hunger and patience, “No?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “You think I don’t know about you cumming on his tongue?”

You tense at that, body rigid beneath their touch as you turn to gaze at Steve with wide eyes, eyes swimming in guilt and the realization that Steve had lied to you. Your frown deepens then, more tears coming and Steve is now the one cooing. “Of course, I told Eddie, bunny. You knew that, though, didn’t you?” He teases.

You let out a muffled sob, squeezing your eyes shut again as tears fall. “You knew Eddie didn’t say you could open your legs for me, and I would have to tell him about your behavior.” He chastises. “So gullible, gonna get yourself in trouble being so stupid, sweet girl.” He gently coos. Your chest stutters with uneven breaths, and Steve’s cock throbs in his sweats.

With you being so unstable, Steve is able to slip his fingers past your panties without a fight. He slips his fingers through your wet folds, warm and sticky, leaning forward to press a kiss under your jaw as you twitch and squirm beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” Eddie prowls, “Shaking for his touch. Again. Did I ever say he could touch you?”��

You huff, eyebrows pinched in frustration as you shake your head. “Then why do you want it?” Eddie asks. Steve sinks a finger into your warm cunt, wetness spilling around his knuckles as your thighs tremble. “I—” Eddie clicks his tongue, reminding you of his rule of no talking.

Steve crooks his finger up, searching for that gummy spot of yours, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as you struggle against him. “God, if I knew you were such a slut I wouldn’t have wasted this much time on you,” Eddie says.

You break your rules then, voice pleading and sad as you claw at Eddie’s shirt, “I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I didn’t know!” You sob. Steve watches in awe at the way you crumble for Eddie. You’re so desperate to please him, to be kept under his arm of security, unbeknownst to you that he’s the one you should be running from.

Steve is jealous… but he wants to learn.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eddie widens his eyes. You shake your head, hips twitching when Steve begins dragging lazy circles over your clit. “H-he told me you said it was okay.” You frown. “Who did? Stevie?” Eddie asks. You nod, and Eddie’s gaze flickers to Steve, a ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t remember saying that, sweetheart.” Steve lies.

“Stevie never said that. So, either you’re lying, or Steve is lying. Are you calling Steve a liar, bunny?”

You look frazzled, seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears as Steve continues playing with you. And the truth is Steve is a liar. He lied to you when he said Eddie gave him the green light to get between your thighs. But you know better than to ever point fingers— again, a product of Eddie’s skilled teachings.

You shake your head no with a frown, and Eddie hums. “Well, did you like it? When Steve licked your slutty little cunt?” Eddie asks.

You’re visibly panicked, wide eyes darting to Steve, knowing he will tell the truth if you lie. There is no way out but through for you, and you know it. You shamefully nod, and Eddie hums again. He pets a gentle hand over your hair, letting you nuzzle into him when you begin to tremble with pleasure. “Would you like him to do it again, bunny?”

And if you’re smart enough, you’ll understand that even if you say no, Eddie will somehow coax you into splitting your thighs open for Steve again. You contemplate longer than Steve would appreciate, but the second he pulls his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth, your eyes flash with this little look that Steve has never seen from you.

Lust.

Steve sucks the juices off his fingers lewdly and greedily, never pulling his gaze from you. You watch, wide-eyed with trembling limbs and a pouty lip, Steve wanting nothing more than to kiss them until they’re sore.

Apprehensive yet interested, you nod your head shyly, and if the two boys hadn’t been watching you like a hawk, they probably wouldn’t have even caught it.

Eddie slinks his fingers through your hair, knuckles gently curling at the root as he drags you closer, kissing you filthy and raw. You whine, thighs closing around Steve’s wrist when he finds his hand back on your warm skin. It’s low against your lips, but Steve hears Eddie tell you, “Come here.” And you follow like an eager puppy wanting to please their owner.

Steve can taste you on his tongue, an overwhelming feeling to taste more as he watches Eddie move you around like you’re a lifeless doll. He places you with your back to his chest, your thighs pressed against Eddie’s knees as he gently tips your head back to kiss you again. Steve stands, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop off somewhere he could care less about because Eddie is splitting your legs apart, presenting you nice and pretty for Steve.

Eddie’s whispering things in your ear, things Steve can’t hear over the low sound of sex from the TV, but he sees you squirm and pout, and he can only imagine he’s saying something about how dirty you are. How cute you are, all slick and ready for someone to put their hands on your greedy cunt.

Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Steve’s as his hands trail down your sides, thick and decorated fingers pushing your skirt up and petting over your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers in the of the material and pulling it to the side.

Steve’s hunger grows like an angry beast. Purrs deep in his chest, and puffs out so big it nearly breaks his ribs. He wants to take you right here and now. Press your thighs out as far as they’ll go, lick into your mouth and shove his cock deep into your cunt. It’ll hurt, probably be a fight to fit every girthy inches of him in, but he’ll make it work. You’re a fighter, anyway. Strong, even if you don’t know it.

“Well, don’t make her wait, Stevie. Look at her, she’s dripping.” Eddie purrs, fingers sliding through your wet folds, parting his fingers into a ‘V’ to show off your throbbing heat.

Steve dips his knee onto the bed, leaning forward to rest on his stomach between your thighs. He takes you in, just as he did that day in the locker room, eyes casting over every piece of your pretty cunt and saving it to remember when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock. Steve can smell you, drawing him in closer as you throb and a drop of slick slips from you. He groans, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, squeezing and molding you to his touch.

“You want my tongue, princess?” He purrs. You whimper, shying beneath his gaze when he looks up at you from between your thighs. Steve blows cool air against you just to see you throb and squirm. You huff, lips pouting as you turn your head to look back at Eddie. Steve reaches forward, fingers gripping your chin to pull your face back down to look at him, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

He runs a thumb over your lip, wet spit catching the pad of his finger. “Is he the one about to eat your greedy pussy?” Steve teases. You whine, shaking your head no. “Answer my question.”

Your hips squirm, halting when Steve’s fingers dig into your skin. Your answer comes shaky and shy, “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Using your words,” Steve dips his thumb into your mouth, dragging it over your tongue, letting you get it nice and wet before he pulls away, pressing it to your clit. Your legs tremble, panting when he runs circles around the tight bud. Steve purses his lips, spit drooling from his lips to drip down onto your pussy before he leans forward and places his mouth over your pussy, hungrily lapping and sucking.

“O-oh! Steve, I—” “Shh, shh. I want you to watch them.” Eddie speaks up, leaning forward to speak into your ear, directing your gaze to the TV. “Look at them. See how they’re using her? See how deep they’re fucking her, bunny?” He asks. You nod, Steve’s gaze fluttering as he devours you, fucking his tongue in and out of your warm hole.

“You want us to do that to you?” Eddie asks, voice low and husky. It makes Steve’s cock throb in his pants. He thinks he hates it, but his mind is fuzzy enough with lust to ignore it. Steve grunts, nuzzling his face deeper into you, and your eyes widen at the words Eddie is saying. “I—” you huff, “I don’t know— s’so bad. It’s not right.” You slur under a whine.

Eddie hums with a low chuckle, “Then how will you repay us for making you feel so good, hm?” His hands slip up your shirt, kneading at your chest and cracking a smile when you arch into his touch. Steve’s hips roll into the mattress, eyes rolling back into his skull at the pressure.

“C-can’t, Teddy—” “But you want to. You want to be fucked, don’t you?” He purrs. You tilt your hips into Steve’s mouth, your body begging for more as you shudder between the two boys. You whimper, and Steve’s eyes are fluttering open, locking onto the view in front of him, your pussy fluttering against his tongue. You frown, your fists balled against the sheets as Eddie holds your chin, directing your gaze onto the TV. “See how much she’s enjoying it?” Eddie purrs into your ear. “See how thankful she is to be getting fucked well?”

You grimace at his words, your body melting into their hold with each passing second— Steve can practically see your brain melting out of your ears. You make the prettiest noises, and you move like you don’t know if you want more or less, but Steve doesn’t give you a choice as he tugs you impossibly closer, taking you for all you are. Eddie kisses your neck, wet and sloppily, and you whine like you hate it, but Steve can feel you pulsing around his tongue.

“You should be thankful too, princess.” Eddie drawls into your ear, his hands still working beneath your shirt. Steve can’t help it when he reaches up and yanks at the buttoned half of your shirt, groaning into your cunt when you gasp and squirm. The sight of your tits spilling into Eddie’s palms drives Steve’s hips into the bed once more, desperate for some sort of pressure.

Steve pulls away with a gasp, sinking a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you, his swollen lips parted and wet with your slick. “Go ahead then, doll,” Steve nods at you, “Thank us.”

Your chest rattles with a sob, and Eddie grins as Steve coos, “Say it, princess. Thank us for taking care of your slutty holes.” He demands. You cry out then, legs trembling when Steve brushes against that perfect spot, teasing it to keep you away from that release that you crave.

“T-thank you,” you breathe, eyes squeezed shut, your body tensed as you wriggle between them. Eddie growls, gripping your face, gritting into your ear as he speaks, “For what? What are you thanking us for?”

You gasp as Eddie’s teeth drag along your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to hazily look at Steve between your thighs, moaning when he slips in another finger. Your voice is heavy in shame, but you’re too fucked to refuse it as you say, “T-thank you… for taking care of my s-slutty holes.”

Eddie smiles, “Good girl. Let her cum, Stevie, she’s been so good.”

Steve’s mouth is back on you in record time, lapping and sucking and pulling you closer and closer to the edge until you’re crying out a sob so loud that Eddie has to slap a hand over your mouth. Your hips rise off the bed, and Steve pins them back down, groaning into you as he keeps licking you, your thighs closing around his head. And Steve loves it; he loves the feeling of your cute little thigh-high socks scratching up against his ears and your warm, wet skin on his tongue. Steve thinks he could die here, really.

Eddie’s cooing in your ear, telling you how well you did, how much of a good girl you are, and his gaze snaps down to Steve’s when he pulls away from you with a gasp, wiping his mouth and liking his lips like a lion that’s just demolished its prey. Steve sort of feels like one, honestly.

Eddie grins up at Steve, his eyes falling to the evident tent in Steve’s pants when he rises to his feet. You’re barely cohesive when Eddie lightly slaps your cheek a few times, “Wake up, bunny, we’re not done with your holes yet.”

Your eyes are blurred with pleasure when you blink them open, and Steve presses a palm to his crotch. You blearily blink at him, and he nods, “Come here.”

And like an obedient dog, you peel away from Eddie’s arms, your clothes disheveled and twisted as you crawl over to Steve. He reaches out, his hand slinking into your hair to drag you up until he can smash his lips onto yours, a hungry growl rumbling from his chest. Steve knows he should be more gentle with you, you’re such a fragile little thing, but the feeling of power that surges through him when he tightens his grip on your hair and leads you off the bed is damn near like a drug. He wants it in his veins all the time.

You stumble off the bed, your socked feet knocking against Steve’s— it’s so fucking cute, Steve nearly coos. “On your knees. Get on your knees.” He orders. And again, like you were programmed for this, you fall to your knees, your hazy eyes slowly blinking as Steve sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his pants down. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times, his hand still stuck in your hair.

Steve’s voice is kinder than his touch when he asks, “You remember what to do, princess?” Nodding with you when you respond, “Good girl, go on. Show me how thankful you are for me.” He says, and you shuffle forward to take him in greedily and sloppy, Steve’s eyes nearly rolling.

You suck him just as you did the first time, though it’s a little bit better than before; Steve supposes you and Eddie have been practicing more than enough. Even though you’re tired from your orgasm and your actions are less calculated, Steve finds himself enjoying it as if you were a pro.

Steve’s groans and mumbles of praise get closer and more slurred, and he supposes it was easy to tell how close he was because Eddie, a presence he had tried (and failed miserably) to ignore, steps into view right behind you, looking down proudly at his perfect project.

Eddie’s gaze holds a devious glare when he locks eyes with Steve as he sinks to squat next to you. He coasts a hand up your back, his fingers firm but gentle when they grip the back of your neck, his gaze finally leaving Steve to watch as your mouth greedily takes Steve’s cock in and out. And Steve is so close, and his body is so hot that he almost misses what Eddie says to you when he leans in— but Steve hears it loud and clear, “Don’t swallow. I want you to keep his cum in your mouth and show me, do you understand?”

And god, you fucking whimper and nod as best as you can, and Steve is a goner. And Steve usually cums a lot, sure. Nancy hates it, says it’s an inconvenience, but god, you take it like it’s nothing but a gift. You sit there, tear-streaked face, droopy eyes, and an open shirt as Steve cums in heavy spurts, coating every inch of your mouth as he curses. It’s so much that some of it spills out the side of your mouth, and the little bit that dribbles from his cock when you pull away lands on your chin, and Steve can’t help but tap his sticky tip against it.

Steve watches, blissed out and panting, as Eddie turns your face towards him. “Let me see, open your mouth.” He says, grinning when your lips part to show the thick mess in your mouth. “Good bunny.” He lowly hums.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Eddie leans forward, drags his tongue along the spilled cum of your face to lap it up before pressing his lips onto yours. Steve hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all.

He didn’t expect that he would be watching Eddie Munson eat his cum off your face tonight. He can see his tongue dipping into your mouth, lewd noises emptying into the air as he pulls Steve’s cum from your mouth and into his own. Yeah, Steve really didn’t expect that. And he doesn’t expect to feel his cock twitch at the sight of it either.

It’s disgusting, is what it is. Disgusting and downright debauchery, but Steve can’t look away, not even when Eddie pulls away and turns to lick his lips while gazing at Steve, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.

Eddie brings his thumb to wipe at the drop of cum that had been on the corner of his mouth before sucking it into his mouth— and Steve nearly cums again, and his cock throbs, and Eddie’s gaze flutters to see the way Steve’s dumb dick has filled with blood yet again. A small smirk rises on Eddie’s lips, and Steve can feel the heat rising in his cheeks— which is surprising, honestly, considering most of his blood is flooding downstairs. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve’s wide eyes, and he finally says— “Not bad, Harrington.”

Steve nearly passes out.

What the fuck?

“Halloween is of pagan origin— therefore, we, as children of god, do not participate in any form of celebration on this day.”

The week of Halloween has always brought an eerie feeling to you. Gorey movies and costumes of demons and distorted faces— it’s scary. Aside from the candy, you never understood why people loved the holiday so much. Your friends never understood your reasoning or why your parents would never in a million years agree to let you go trick or treating, but their judgment never bothered you enough to change your opinion.

The priest looks at the students, an unwavering expression of sincerity plastered on his face as he says, “Be wise with how you spend your time this weekend. There will be consequences for any of you who choose to participate in any activities pertaining to Halloween; am I understood?”

The room mumbles in agreement, as does yourself, and the priest nods before carrying on to close mass. Beside you, Nancy sits with her bible and journal in her lap; eyes cast forward on the priest. She’s been glancing over at Steve all night, watching him during prayer and nearly half of the service— you know this because you had been watching him right along with her, though your reasoning is not the same as hers.

Steve Harrington, star rugby player with his pretty brown eyes and honey-thick locks, was anything but kind when he pulled you aside before mass. He was greedy, possessive with his hold and grabby when he hiked your skirt up, pressed your face against the janitor's closet door, forced your thighs together, and rutted into them like a dog in heat. He had a rough practice, so he said.

He apologized for being rough, said he didn’t mean it when he squeezed just a little too hard around your throat, and you all but sniffled and nodded and told him it was okay even though you were scared and your thighs now sting with friction burn.

He had a tough day, and the least you could do was not make him feel bad about it. That being said, it doesn’t stop the stir of guilt that sat in your chest throughout mass.

It’s hard not to feel guilty when your roommate's boyfriend's spend is sitting between your thighs, warm and squishy and tucked safely against your folds. It’s sickening, and it nearly makes you dizzy with shame. But Steve said it was okay, that friends do this thing, and Nancy understands; she would just rather not discuss it.

You could barely focus during mass, too busy trying to grasp what you and Steve had just done and trying desperately not to show it on your face. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but feel as if Nancy can see straight through you, and that’s why she's been watching him all night.

As soon as you’re dismissed, you begin working up the nerve to ask her, the words rolling around in your mind as you rise from your seat, but the second you turn to Nancy, she’s turning to go after Steve and you’re being tugged back by a firm hand.

“Where are you running off to, bunny? Don’t we have plans?”

You gaze up at Eddie, glancing over to watch as Nancy slinks out of the pew, and you nod, “Yes, but I—” “Then let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Eddie all but drags you out of the chapel, tugging you along and slipping past the dark courtyard to get to the back of the dormitory. Nobody ever supervises the back of the dormitories. Eddie told you to always come through this route; that way, you can get into his room without a hassle.

The path is dark, nothing but the moon and Eddie’s firm hand to guide you, and you try to focus on anything else but the snap of twigs beneath your feet and the burn between your thighs. However, the only thing that comes up in your mind is Nancy.

“Um, Eddie,” you speak up.

“What’s up, bunny?”

“I think… I think I may have upset Nancy…” You frown.

Eddie slowly pauses, turning to look at you, lips pressed in a firm line as his eyebrows furrow. “Did you say something to her?” He asks.

He’s towering over you, the darkness swallowing you both, exaggerating his stance. You feel like you’re drowning beneath him, sinking into the mud beneath your feet as you hastily shake your head no.

Eddie is so hard to read in this dim lighting, though he’s never been all that easy to read anyway. You can still hear a slight tone of relief when he says, “Good.”

Eddie turns and pursues the path, leaving you with panic and a racing heart. You didn’t say anything to Nancy— you made sure of it after Steve specifically sat you down and said you could never bring it up. But then, why could she not look at you all through mass? Why does it seem… tense between her and Steve? Are you to blame? Did you do something that may have upset her?

How do you even ask without revealing the open truth?

The questions swirl in your head like a storm, grey and murky as they slink down your throat and spill into your chest, spreading and laying out with a weight that makes you feel as if the world has just crashed on you.

You don’t realize you’ve made it to Eddie’s room until a plastic bag is shoved in your hands. You gaze at it briefly, shiny material crinkling between your fingers as you blink and glance toward Eddie.

Eddie nods, “Put it on.”

You step over to Eddie’s bed, put the bag on the mattress, and open it up to pull out the items inside. It’s an outfit, three items to complete a set of what looks to be a bunny costume if the bunny ears are any indication. The only problem, though is the dress, the main piece of the outfit, is incredibly short.

“I can’t wear this.”

You hadn’t noticed, but Eddie was busy getting dressed on the other side of the room. You look over at him, taking in his all-black attire and heavily swallowing when he glances at your laid-out costume.

“Why not?” He asks.

You glance at the dress before looking back at him, gesturing down at it as if it’s obvious, “Because it’s revealing!” You exclaim.

Eddie rolls his eyes and resumes putting on the rest of his clothes, a long black robe-looking thing, “No, it’s not.” He responds.

Your eyes widen as you look at the short dress, “Eddie, I-I’m not sure this will even cover my entire backside.” You shake your head. And when you lift it and turn it around, you realize that it definitely won’t— at least not comfortably.

“You’ll be fine. Other girls will probably be wearing something worse.” He dismisses.

Your teeth gnaw into the soft tissue of your lip as you put the dress back on the bed, eyeing it with worry and dread. It’s… gross. Degrading and immodest in every sense of the word, yet Eddie, your friend, is asking you to wear it. You glance over at him, your world spinning again as you realize what this entire plan is: the costume and the urgency to leave all make sense.

You drag in a shaky breath, slinking your arms around your body as you take a step back, “I think,” you clear your throat before speaking louder to get your point across, “I think I’m gonna head to my room… Maybe study a bit and go to bed…” You softly say.

You step toward the door, not even glancing Eddie’s way because you know if you do, you’ll be stuck trying to please him. But Eddie moves quicker than you can, his hand pressing against the wooden door to stop you from opening it.

“The dress is fine, doll.”

Your gaze dances up his frame, miles of black leading to his dark brown eyes. You want to be strong, put your foot down, and tell him no, but your tongue is tied. As it always is when it comes to Eddie.

You softly say his name, and he tilts his head, an ice-cold glare stuck on your eyes, daring you to say something more. Gravity pulls on your lips and your eyes, water threatening to spill down your cheeks when Eddie lowly and steadily says, “Go put on the outfit.”

You want to cry.

You want to wail and kick and scream until Eddie has no choice but to let you run to your room and stay there until Monday morning. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to wear this costume you’ve been forced into, and you don’t understand why Eddie, who is supposed to be your friend, is being anything but friendly tonight.

He doesn’t care that you didn’t want to wear the outfit. He doesn’t care that it’s revealing, that you feel uncomfortable, or that it’s hardly forty degrees outside and you’re shivering. He doesn’t care that you have to keep tugging the tiny dress down your thighs or that you’re practically stumbling over your feet with the heels he forced you to wear. And he doesn’t care to ask why your mascara is running when he looks over at you and wipes it away; he simply tells you that you look pretty, “Like a doll.”

You feel disoriented. Far from yourself and disgusted, and you can’t help the aching feeling in your chest when you think about how saddened your parents would be to see you like this. Half dressed in the middle of a Halloween party. They’d disown you, you’re sure of it.

Eddie’s hold is tight on you the whole night, whether on your hand, your waist, or his heavy hand resting on the back of your neck. He always has a hand on you. Oddly enough, Eddie’s touch seems to ground you despite how displaced you feel. It’s comforting to have something familiar while you struggle to grasp your morality.

What are you doing here? How did you get here? Do you like this? Do you enjoy Eddie’s company enough to brave through this?

You think you do.

The music is loud, and it’s packed with dancing bodies from wall to wall. You have to repeatedly tip the bunny ears on your head back into place from where they keep slipping, and you debate ripping it off every time. You can feel the bass of the music in your chest, the scent of liquor and smoke filling your lungs as neon lights dance across your eyes.

Eddie has softened through the night. You’re not sure what had him wound up before, but he is back to doting on you, occasionally turning to you and brushing the skin under your eyes as his gaze softens and he asks if you’re okay. And you’re not. You’re cold and uncomfortable, and you want to go home, but Eddie’s touch is kind, so you find yourself nodding each time. And then he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, cool lips brushing against your skin, and returns to whatever he’s been doing all night. Stepping off into corners and sliding these bags to people in exchange for something you can’t quite see in the dim lighting of the house, but when you asked him, he told you not to worry about it.

There’s a cup in your hands, a drink that Eddie gave you, which you have been slowly sipping for the better part of an hour. It’s sweet, almost too sweet, but there’s a bitter aftertaste that somehow balances it out enough for you to keep sipping on it.

Eventually, you find yourself squirming with the need to pee, turning to Eddie and leaning up to reach his ear and tell him. He squeezes your hip, “I’ll be here, doll.” And you had hoped that Eddie would tag along with you for your safety and comfort, but he only turns back to the secretive conversation he’d been having.

You find yourself wandering up the stairs, eyes dancing around searching for a restroom. It’s just your luck that the first door you open happens to be one, empty and surprisingly clean for the chaos unfolding throughout the party.

You try to be quick about it, eager to find your spot back next to Eddie, where you feel something along the lines of tolerable. You don’t miss the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, smudged mascara, taunting bunny ears, whorish clothing. You frown, tears pressing against your waterline as you gaze at yourself.

Wrong. Open, unrecognizable, and wrong.

Your shaky fingers grab at the bunny ears on your head, ripping them away and tossing them in the direction of the trash can, clattering to the floor in empty noise.

After having a moment to breathe by yourself, you think you’ll ask Eddie to leave now, the pending urge to leave only growing stronger by the second.

You flip the bathroom light off and open the door, stepping out without looking, only to slam into a body. Apologies roll off your tongue as you stumble back, nearly falling from your stupid heels. Through your tears, you look up at the person, dressed in black and tall, face covered with a mask of black, distorted eyes, and a wide black mouth.

You blink, stepping back as you mutter another apology, but they say nothing as they gaze down at you. Your heart races, fear seeping through you and staining like berries as you whip around and walk away— Eddie. Just get back to Eddie.

Unstable on stilts, you make your way back down the stairs and into the lion's den, crowded with drunk people dancing and talking, unmindful of where they go. And this house is big— too big. Big enough that when you glance around and realize you don’t know where you’re going, you start to feel even more panicked.

Every corner is different yet the same:: dark lighting, flashing lights, and the music is too loud. You don’t know anybody here, and you don’t know your way back to Eddie. A glance over your shoulder and the panic amps to the nines as you realize the masked man is just a few feet away from you.

Is he following you? Why is he following you?

Fear runs through you like a freight train. Your feet carry you faster, weaving through people as your weary gaze jumps from corner to corner. Masked figures, blood, and distorted faces meet you at every turn. You never liked Halloween; you think you hate it now.

Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and you’re scared. Every place you turn is empty of your relief, and every glance back is full of fear. And you don’t feel good. You feel sick. Detached from your hands and feet yet so stuck in the walls of your skin— where is Eddie?

Tears are streaming down your face, but you hardly feel them as you pace towards the sight of a door. You don’t look back anymore, too afraid to see the gaping face of a void staring back at you, waiting to eat you alive— the hungry wolf and the weak lamb— just as Eddie had said.

The clearing of the front door is near, and your legs hardly feel real. You should’ve never come here. You should’ve never put on this outfit. You should’ve never gone out on your own and lost Eddie. You are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and you’re scared.

And just as you come within a few feet of the door, a hand grabs your arm, and you jolt, pushing away until that familiar voice rings in your ear— “Hey, it’s me. It’s just me, where are you—”

You throw yourself into Eddie’s arms, tears falling in droves as you sob into his chest. Eddie’s embrace is like a nest— a warm, carefully crafted, and woven nest made to hold you and keep you safe. You should’ve never left his side.

His hand gently holds your head, soft coos seeping into your ear as he asks, “What’s wrong, bunny? What happened?”

You cry, body trembling in his hold as you try to piece your words together, “I-I couldn’t find you and somebody— that guy w-was following me,” you cry.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What guy?”

Your words come out in choked sobs, a shaky finger lifting past Eddie’s shoulder, “T-the guy in the mask!” You stress.

Eddie turns, looking in the direction of your finger, confusion and something else etched across his face when he turns to you, “…There’s a lot of masked people here, bunny; you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.” He says.

You cry, disoriented and confused because the man is nowhere in sight. Eddie guides you outside with a gentle hand on your back, softly cooing as you sob. The air is cold and sharp against your barely covered skin, but you hardly feel it.

You’d been spinning all night, around and around in a foggy cloud of discomfort, and the crash hurts more than the fall. But Eddie is here. He is here, and he’s holding you, and he’s wiping your tears, and asking you to breathe, “Tell me what happened, doll. Describe the guy.”

And through wracked sobs and shaky words, you describe what you saw: black cape, white mask, two big black eyes, and a gaping mouth. Hungry and ready to devour you.

“Woah, what the fuck happened?”

It’s Nancy; you know it’s Nancy despite your inability to see straight. She steps into frame, a gentle hand on your arm as she looks at your distraught face. Not far behind her stands Steve, a look of concern on his face.

“Some fuckin’ creep was following her,” Eddie mutters.

Your breaths come in shaky gasps, trembling hands coming up to wipe at your wet eyes. You try to speak, but your words hardly make sense, so Nancy softly coos and tells you to calm down.

Another flow of tears fall, and you only want to wrap yourself back in Eddie’s arms.

“And where were you?” Steve snaps.

Eddie looks at Steve, expression unreadable when he replies, “She went to the restroom.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” Steve prods.

Nancy consoles you, wiping your tears and telling you you’re okay as Steve and Eddie bicker over things you can hardly manage to wrap your head around. Finally, Nancy turns to them, “Would you two shut up? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get her home; I think we’ve all had enough of tonight.” She snaps.

And even though you’re upset that Nancy has taken you from your source of comfort, you’re glad she leaves no room for debate. Nancy leads you down the steps of the house and you catch a glimpse of Eddie and think tomorrow you’ll have to apologize for ruining the night. For losing him and making a scene of your own mistake.

As you fall asleep later, you can’t help the few tears that slip down your face and drop onto your pillow as you all but hope Eddie can forgive you.

Steve’s had a rough weekend.

What started with a small disagreement with Nancy over his schedule with rugby has spiraled into Nancy completely ignoring him. On top of that, Steve is furious with Eddie’s mistake of not protecting you, and Eddie doesn’t seem to care. And as if that’s not enough, rugby finals are just around the corner, and Steve’s team is falling short to fucking play like they mean it.

Steve woke up with a headache, a sign that today would be just as rough as the night before, where Steve spent the better part of an hour with his father nagging him over the phone. Steve’s not sure what his father wants from him: a college degree or someone to run his company— either way, he won’t get both.

So, with a pounding head and a deep sigh, Steve got out of bed and began his game day rituals.

Morning run, shower, finish assignments, roll out that stubborn muscle in his thigh, and head down to the field.

Practice runs short, as it always does on game day. Steve doesn’t want to waste any energy his players can use on the field, so he lets them off the hook earlier with a warning to not do anything stupid.

And usually, by the time the game is about to start, Steve is pumped and ready to win; he talks up a big game to his players and riles them up. But today, Steve is merely a silent brewing storm. He’s tense. There’s a chip on his shoulder, and he can’t fucking reach it, and he doesn’t even know where to begin to figure it out.

Because the truth is, Steve loves Nancy. And he wants you. And he wants to be the perfect son. And he wants to win every game. He wants, he wants, he wants. But how much of it can he actually get?

Midway through the game, Steve’s team is down by enough to put him in a bad mood. His storm is pushing and pulling, churning in dark clouds on the sidelines as he watches his team play like shit. Steve isn’t even here, he thinks. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere between space and the busy thoughts in his head.

And as if the other team making another score isn’t enough, Steve suddenly hears your name tumbling from the lips of another teammate— “Did you see her on Friday? I had a feeling that innocent shit was all an act— she probably fucks like she gets paid for it.”

And Steve bites so hard into his tongue that he tastes metal. Warm and bitter, inking across his tongue like spilled milk.

He shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t. Not when Nancy is already on his back, asking about his whereabouts and throwing fits over nothing— because the guys talk. They’ll open their mouths for any pair of walking tits, and Steve can’t afford that. Not now. He doesn’t need it.

But then— “Wait— Harrington, isn’t your girlfriend roommates with her?”

Steve glances at the two boys, snickering like thieves, enjoying the taste of berating you on their tongues. Steve can hardly hold back the snarl on his face when he looks at them and replies, “No.” Stiff and quick.

Noel, the boy who’d made the comment about you, is now sitting right next to Steve and looking at him in confusion, “But they’re friends, right? I see them together all the time.” He points out.

Steve can’t deny that because it’s true. You and Nancy hang out on campus often, so he curtly nods, “Yeah. They’re friends.”

Noel hums, spreading his thighs to take up space as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Steve and tilts his head as if he’s thinking, which Steve is sure he can’t even do, “So, can you confirm or deny that she’s more of a slut than she lets on.”

Steve looks at Noel, imagining his hands wrapped around his neck as his face twists in distaste, “She’s not a slut.”

Noel scoffs around a laugh, “Sure as hell dressed like one the other night.” he snickers, nudging his other snickering friend, Barry. They laugh as if it’s funny, making a snide comment about how your ass looked in your dress. Steve’s tongue is nearly bitten off.

“That doesn’t make her a slut.” Steve snaps.

Noel and Barry glance at each other, and laugh in disbelief, “Relax, Harrington. No one’s gonna tell Nancy you cracked a joke about how hot her roommate is.” Barry teases.

Steve doesn’t say anything; just rolls his eyes and glares back at the game. But Noel is nothing if not a fucking test of patience. Steve never liked Noel, and honestly, if he weren’t a good stand-off player, Steve would’ve written him off long ago.

“Think you could put in a word for me, man?”

Steve doesn’t bother looking at Noel as he snaps, “No, dude. Fuck off.”

Noel nudges Steve as if pushing him closer to the line Steve has been dancing on all weekend, “Come on dude, quit being so uptight, it’s just pussy.”

Just pussy.

Steve doesn’t know what snaps in him, but the second he hears it— just pussy— he hardly thinks twice before standing and curling his fists into Noel's jersey to throw him down off the bench.

“What the fuck—“

Steve steps over him, reaches down to grip the front of his jersey, and pulls him up, anger pumping through him in droves as he glares down at the boy and snaps, “Say one more thing about her.”

Barry, Noel’s knight in shining armor, steps in and grips Steve’s shoulder, pulling him off his friend and shoving at his chest. He sizes Steve up, face twisted in annoyance as he seethes, “Dude— calm the fuck down.”

Steve shoves the boy off of him, “Fuck you.” He snaps. Steve steps up to him, “You wanna know a real slut, Barry? Ask your sister, I fucked her.” He spits.

The words slip out easily like water, inky black with leeches to stick to skin and drain his veins— and it fucking works because not a second passes before a fist drives into Steve’s face, blood pooling in his mouth like an open dam. It rings loudly and echoing, with radio static in his ears. Steve can hardly hear his coach yelling, marching over to grab Steve off of Barry.

Steve doesn’t feel the pain in his hand, but he will once the adrenaline wears off, his knuckles tapped from the hard bone of Barry’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember punching him.

The coach shoves Steve in the opposite direction of Barry, frustration in every vowel of his words as he spits out, “You’re out, Harrington!”

Steve doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care to be thrown out of the game, hell they were gonna lose anyway. He doesn’t care that he’s the captain and should be setting an example— Steve doesn’t care. He’s pissed off, and he can hardly think straight as he storms off the field.

Steve’s storm is windy and brutal, the anger so hot in his throat that he can barely swallow. Steve will regret what he did later; he knows he will, but how could he sit there and let them talk about you like that and not do something?

You, who is so kind and caring to assholes that don’t deserve a second of your attention. You, who has never made yourself a problem yet has been picked on since you’ve come to All Saints. You, who hardly knows right from wrong— because Steve is so, so, so wrong, and still you look at him with these soft, doe eyes that make Steve want to scream and cry simultaneously. You, who Steve thinks about as he falls asleep next to his girlfriend.

How could anybody speak lowly of you?

You’re worth every bit of regret Steve will face, he thinks. No matter how clouded his judgment is.

There’s blood in his mouth, and dull aching in his jaw that will soon become a throbbing pain, and one would think Steve has had enough fights for the night, but that switch is suddenly flipped yet again when a voice comes from a few feet away— “Rough night, Harrington?”

The locker room is just steps away, and the noise of the losing game is now distant. Across the carpool lane stands Eddie, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the city light dances across his figure. He looks so stupid, standing there like a shadow, taunting Steve as if this is some sort of joke to him.

Steve gazes at Eddie, watching as he brings the cigarette up to his lips, talking around a cloud of smoke when he adds, “You look like shit.”

Shaky breaths, radio static, warm metal. City light, cigarette smoke, stupid fucking shadow.

Steve’s jaw aches when he clenches his teeth before speaking, “Are you following me?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to follow you?”

Annoying. So fucking annoying, that’s all Eddie has ever been. An annoying asshole with something smart to always say.

“Why would I want you to follow me?”

Eddie shrugs, a hand in his pocket, “Some people like that shit.” He says.

Steve stalks over, unbridled anger in each step as he draws closer to Eddie. He sneers as he glares at Eddie, “The fuck is your problem?” He snaps.

Eddie blinks, brown eyes gazing at Steve as he responds, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being so fucking weird.” Steve spats, face twisted in disgust.

Eddie raises an uninterested eyebrow, “Wasn’t aware I was.” He coolly replies.

Steve’s fingers curl into his palm, an angry fist against his side as he glares at the boy before him. Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s fist, lips ticking up in a small smile as his gaze flickers back to Steve’s.

Steve’s face grows hot in anger. He leans in, venom on his tongue when he spats at Eddie, “Fuck you.”

Eddie, like the asshole he is, gets a glint in his eye as he quickly whips back, “Thank you.” As if nothing ever bothers him. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie knows how to bleed. Does he know how to respond to a punch? A kick? A bite? Steve’s not so sure that he does.

Steve decides spending another second on Eddie would be a waste, so he turns on and walks away. He’s still hot with anger, still tasting blood in his mouth, still thinking about those assholes on the turf, still thinking about the asshole a few feet away from that knows how he tastes.

“And just so you know,” Steve whips around, storming up to Eddie again. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve, tilting his head in interest. Steve feels a feeling he’s never felt before brewing in his chest— a deep anger that he’s never tasted and comes up sharp on his tongue.

“I’m not fucking gay.” Steve spits.

Eddie blinks and nods once, “Okay.”

Steve looks at Eddie, the other boys sharp features glowing under the lamplight as he says, “So don’t do that shit again.”

Eddie looks at Steve, stoic expression plastered across his face before he tilts his head, “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He says, voice low and gravely.

Steve’s blood boils. His fists clench by his sides, and he ticks his jaw, pain rising from the punch he’d taken not too long ago, “Fuck you,” he says, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Eddie’s eyes have an annoying glint when he responds, “Seemed like you enjoyed it, Harrington.” He says beneath a subtle smirk. Steve steps forward, fists curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket as he leans in and seethes, “You’re fucking disgusting. Try pulling that shit again, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you.”

Eddie smirks, brown eyes dancing over Steve’s face, a halo of warm light around his curly hair. Eddie’s voice is like hot honey, “That a threat or a promise, captain?”

“That’s a fucking promise.”

Brown pools of earth swirling like a whirlpool stare into Steve’s eyes. Smoke and cheap cologne, hairspray, leather. Steve’s anger is so loudly rushing through his veins he can hear it, flooding through his ears like a river.

Steve is in the eye of the storm. The wind is still, the air is crisp, and the light overhead flickers.

Steve doesn’t know how it happens. He doesn’t know who invades whose space, but the taste of his blood mixes with the taste of cigarette smoke, dull with mint and spit. Eddie’s lips are warm and rough because Eddie needs some fucking chapstick, but Steve doesn’t complain. He can’t. Not when Eddie’s dipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting his blood, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Steve’s knuckles are tight in Eddie’s jacket, short nails carving into the leather. Eddie’s tongue is like a curious snake, running over Steve’s tongue, dipping through the valleys and ridges of his teeth, licking over his palate. Eddie’s tongue slinks back into his own mouth, his lips curving against Steve’s lips as his cold fingers brush against Steve’s hips— and suddenly, the winds are picking up, and Steve shoves at the curly-haired boy, stepping away with a heaving chest as he glares at the boy.

Eddie’s lips are tainted a faint red, brown eyes bright yet gloomy as they gaze at Steve. Steve grimaces as he wipes his mouth, spitting out blood onto the concrete as if Eddie’s spit is the worst thing he’s ever tasted.

Eddie smiles, looks at Steve like he can see right through him, and Steve fucking hates it. Steve turns, body thrumming in some sort of sick and twisted adrenaline, eyes cast ahead of him as he marches toward the door of the locker room.

“By the way, Steve,” Eddie calls out behind him, “It was me.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck everything that he says and does— Steve hates that every word Eddie says leaves him questioning, hanging, wanting more. Steve turns and glares at Eddie, vitriol in his voice as he spits out, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie’s lips tip in a smile, boot-clad feet clicking against the cement as he stalks over to Steve, “The guy following her. It was me.” He shrugs.

Steve looks at Eddie, dancing over his face, looking for a crack in his expression— he finds none. Steve feels… he feels stupid. Stupid for being blind to the little game Eddie is so easily playing, puppeteering you and him with an expertise that makes Steve wonder— how many times has he done this? How many people?

Steve spent the whole weekend churning in anger, only to be told it was Eddie the entire time. He feels naive and dumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Eddie snickers with a shrug, stopping in front of Steve, “Made it more entertaining.”

Steve swears he feels Eddie’s lips on his, and if it weren’t for the sight of them splitting into a shit-eating grin, he’d believe they were still pressed against that lamppost, swapping spit and blood.

“Fuck you.” Steve spits.

Eddie’s smile smears in Steve’s vision as he turns his back to him and walks toward the building, heart racing in his chest and bile churning in his stomach.

Eddie’s voice rings in his ears as Steve opens the locker room door, “Goodnight, Harrington.”

Steve hardly sleeps that night.

part four.

freaky lil cutie taglist: @gnrquinn @otterpop13 @sirensleepingsoundly @hugdealer @poppyseed018 @your-nightmaredoll @daysinthephoenix @chaiflvrd @daisy-munson @amira0303 @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @peaches-roses-sins @ohmeg

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@ratsematary @qtheressurections

a/n: HI HI HIIII !!! first of all, i am so incredibly sorry for how delayed this chapter was, i truly hope you guys even remember this story *cries*, either way, thank you for being so patient <33 this chappy was all about stevie battling his demons (bisexuality) soooo, not much established, but we're getting to the action very soon I promise!!

if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated and loved <3 I hope you all have a wonderful 2025 and stay safe; and as always, thank u and i love you always!!

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mingi-s-dimples · 6 months ago

Text

Crave me - yunho

pairing: bf!yunho x gf fem!reader

rating: 18+, bdsm

genre: romance, bdsm, filthy smut (mdni ty)

summary: The bratty attitude you had with him didn't last long.. as he leaves his patience at the table and destroys you.

WC: 3.5k

warnings: rough/strict dom!yunho, bratty sub fem!reader, bdsm, choking, neck kink, sucking, blowjob, making out, tying up, pet names (darling, babe, love, pretty boy, sweetie, sweetheart), degradation kink (slut, cumslut, whore), praise kink, slapping/spanking, both vaginal and anal, use of bdsm attire (cuffs, blindfold, rope), use of toys (vibrator), sense deprivation (blindfold), little bit of hand kink, punishing, edging, creampie, ruined orgasms, multiple rounds, deals (but Yunho feels cocky and he said fuck the deal), cum cum cum a lot of cummm, squirting, mentions of safe word but never used (reader is a brat), cum eating, big dick!yunho, overstim, backshots, unprotected (REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL !), completely consesual !, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: SO ! When I first started writing this fic, several day ago, I didn't intend to make it this.. filthy. But.. my lovely bestie rated the roughness in the other 3 fics I have posted an average of 8.sth/10 and I took that as a CHALLENGE. Hope you like it, Lis, love you sweetie. Another small note: WHY AREN'T THERE MORE BDSM FICS OUT THERE HELLO? I'M A SUCKER FOR THEM !

Update, Lis: okay, even though i saw some paragraphs before this was published, i was still taken off guard by this. i’m taking back my words, roughness level 10/10, WHEN I TELL YOU I HAD TO TAKE A BREAK AND BREATHE. seriously i love this fic sm and bia you are so talented, you never fail to amaze me❤️❤️ please keep going with your work, i love youu<3 ( i’m still waiting for a demon joong fic 👹👹👹 ) - my answer: the demon joong fic is alr in my drafts, halfway done.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The grand dining hall was a symphony of opulence and elegance, its high vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate plasterwork and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, their deep hues of burgundy and gold complementing the polished mahogany of the round, small dining tables. As the guests settled into their seats, the gentle strains of a string quartet drifted through the air, mingling with the soft clinking of fine glasses and the murmur of animated conversation.

At one end of the table you were sitting at, the host, Park Seonghwa raised his glass in a toast, his voice resonant and filled with the gravitas of tradition. Across from him, Hongjoong's laughter rang out, light and melodious, adding a delicate counterpoint to the music. The aroma of roasted meats and rich sauces wafted from the platters being served, each dish a masterpiece of culinary art. Conversations flowed like the wine, moving from the latest societal gossip to philosophical musings, as the guests, dressed in their finest evening attire, engaged in a dance of words and wit.

In this setting, every detail was meticulously curated to create an atmosphere of refined luxury and cultural sophistication. Yet, beneath the surface of this carefully constructed elegance, the undercurrents of intrigue and hidden agendas were beginning to stir, promising that the evening's conviviality was only the prelude to a much deeper story.

You, a renowed and well known supermodel, were sitting right next to your husband, Jeong Yunho. He was the CEO of the agency you were modelling at.

The thing is... besides the lovey-dovey side you and Yunho always showed to the other guests and your friends, for example Seonghwa, Hongjoong and the others, the two of you had... another side to your relationship.

Your intimate relationship dynamic was quite.. the opposite of what you were showing. From light forehead kisses, hand holding and warm hugs and kisses... to cuffs, blindfolds and degradation. No one knew the real you when in private, and it made the whole thing way better.

*several minutes later*

"Ooookay, should I ask the chef to bring us some desserts? I think the dinner went really well!" Hongjoong said smiling, watching each of his guests contently. He then hovered his eyes over the whole venue, you could see the happiness flooding over him. It was the ending dinner for a really important business plan that came to a final success.

While the others were happily celebrating with the host, you and Yunho were giving each other some stares. One of the things you loved the most to do was to annoy your man. Why? Cause you knew he'd destroy you the same night. You were never allowed to do things on your own, without his permission. Things such as touching him in public, deny his own touching, dress how you'd like without his approval, because he was really jealous of needy and hungry eyes that always wanted you. Everyone had envy for him, because you were the most beautiful model in your country, the agency itself was the best one, too. But tonight.. you decided to do.. everything that annoyed him and drove him insane. You first started with a.. really nice outfit, you'd say. It was halfway see-through, high heels and silver, bold jewelry completing the look. You were wearing two pieces, a short but flowy black skirt and a white, almost translucent shirt, an elegant one. Your hair was straightened, flowing beautifully on your bare back, as the shirt you were wearing only covered your chest. A silver chain was connecting two pieces of fabric on your back, making you flinch with every slight touch, because of the sheer coldness.

"Darling.. did I ever approve of... this outfit?" Yunho whispered, one of his hands going on your thigh. You tried to deny his touch, moving his hand away, but he only dug his nails deeper into your leg. You flinched, looking at him in the eyes, with an almost innocent look.

"Oh babe... don't you like it? Damn.. I thought it looked really nice" you said sheepishly, smiling at him.

"I didn't say I don't like it but... didn't we agree that these types of visible outfits are... only for me to see, hm?" he whispered and approached your neck with his lips, slightly biting it.

"Babe.. there's people around us. What would they think of you, seeing you kissing me like that?" you said, trying to get a reaction out of him but to your surprise, he remained calm and content, biting you harder.

"Do I look like I give a fuck? You did it to yourself, love. This is the first strike of tonight.. be careful for the rest of the time. I don't feel like destroying your beautiful body when we get back in the room." Yunho said, going in for a soft kiss on your lips.

"We'll see about that, babe." you said and got up from your seat, searching with your eyes the champagne bar.

Someone came behind your back. Of course, it was Yunho, all touchy on your bare waist, as the shirt you were wearing was pretty.. short.

"Babe.. I almost forgot" he mumbled.

"What did I tell you about denying my hand, hm?" his hands hovering your back, one of them on your ass and one on the nape of your neck, slightly squeezing it. "Hm? what did I tell you, mind sharing me your reason?"

"You told me that I should... never move your hand away from myself.." you said turning around to face him. "But... what's entirely wrong with it.. pretty boy? Don't you like it when I tease you..?" you said and gave him a kiss, your hands traveling from his neck to his collarbones, then from his chest to his belt, tugging at it for a second.

"This is.." he whispered. "Strike two.. my love." One more and we're out of here.. remember the rule?" he squeezed your ass, looking right into your eyes, seeing how eager you were to fuck him right there.

Several minutes pass and you were back to your table, sitting next to each other. He effortlessly pulled your seat closer to his, making you gulp at his power and speed. Looking him in the eyes you started being all touchy with him. Started from his hands, feeling up his slender and long fingers, then to his biceps. You stayed like that for a long minute, with your head resting on his shoulder, then one of your hands went straight for his crotch, no warning.

"Yunho, everything good? Why did you flinch, is it too cold here?" Seonghwa asked, confused.

"Ah yes, everything is fine, don't worry about it" he said smiling, squeezing your thigh, his hand going to your pussy, rubbing circles through your panties from under your skirt.

"Babe... that's strike three, if you ask me." he said and patted you on your thigh, to make you look at him. He then looked around for the exit doors and excused himself, taking your hand into his.

"Joong, we'll be back, I need to take care of something at the agency" Yunho said and then dragged you out.

And as the two of you got out the doors, there was a long empty hall, no one was there. He slammed you to the wall, one of his hands on your throat and one lifting you up. He was going towards the elevator.

"Nh- babe, where are we going? you said through the kisses.

"Just upstairs, I reserved a room for us right here. I didn't think we'd need it but... you wanted to be a little slut so it serves us good. Aren't you my little whore, hm? All down for me, I saw you eye fucking me when you were getting champagne. You wanted me to fuck you dumb tonight, mm? he said while going in the elevator.

"What did you want me to do babe, hm? Did you miss my slaps and my cuffs? You little slut, you'll see what will happen if you're being a brat with me again" and right as he said this, he held you close as he opened the door with the keycard. He closed it and he dropped you on your bed.

Some meters from the king sized bed there was a small bag, and you knew so well what there was... cuffs, blindfolds, ropes.. everything you could think of as a sub. And yes.. the relationship between you and your husband, in private, was a dom/sub one. You found out that you were both into bdsm a while ago, when Yunho didn't resist anymore and tried something new on you. You loved it and... it became a really often practice.

"Love, spread out, now." he said as he went back to get something from the bag.

You were still dressed and he was too. But you could feel yourself leaking right on the bed. You knew you left a wet spot on the dark sheets, something that turned your man on even more.

"Told you to spread the fuck out, you brat. When did you get so naughty, hm? Want me to put you in your place? he said as he spread your legs out, tying them to the bed frame. You still had your clothes on, but the skirt was lifted up and the blouse was all messed up. He ripped of your panties and threw them on the floor.

You tried to say something but didn't have time to react. He went back to the bag and took out some cuffs, then got on the bed, his crotch, still dressed, rubbing on your folds. You could feel his bulge getting bigger, his pants getting thighter as he went further to tie your hands to the headboard.

"For all of what you did tonight.. babe, you'll get punished, you know that, right? he said as he hovered his hand over your throat and collarbones. "Stay still, I'll tie a sheer blindfold to your eyes. I want you to still be able to distinguish how I destroy your little and pretty pussy."

"Yuyu.. please. Fuck me." you pleaded, trying to look him in the eyes. Whenever he tied a blindfold on your eyes.. it turned you on so bad. You couldn't properly see what was happening nor what he was doing, preparing what to do to you.. but it was thrilling.

"Hmm... what should I start with.. pretty slut, mm? Should I just edge you until you can't take it anymore and cum out of overstimulation and exhaustion, should I make you cry and not let you cum the whole night? Should I.... fuck you and deny your orgasm how you denied my hand? Tell me, sweetheart. I need words, not muffled sounds." he confidently said, giving you a smirk and his right hand going right to your blouse, easily unbuttoning it and throwing it away on the floor.

He hastly gets rid of your bra, his groping entirely unhelpful. Large hands, slender fingers roaming your body, sliding over your nipples, pressing and nibbling at them, cupping your breasts and hoisting your legs up and around his waist. Him, still clothed, you.. only with your skirt on, if that's even important.

"Fuck, Yuyu —" you gasp when he sucks a dark bruise into the skin of your neck, while one of his hands went to his shirt. He slowly unbuttoned it, then went for his pants. He undid them halfway and pushed towards you, getting a soft moan out of your slowly rising chest, heavy breathing from all the manhandling he did on you. He was taking his time. He absolutely loved seeing you begging for his cock, squirming and moving against his crotch in wish of friction. But.. Yunho left all his patience at the door.

"Babe, how did you get me this mad, hm? Did you even think about the consequences, you little slut? If that's what you wanted.. I'll destroy you, sweetheart."

Two of his fingers trace your hole before sinking into you, curling to find the right spot. All you can do is arch your back, your moans and cries soon muffled by one of his hands, as he chokes you.

"Is this what you wanted? rile me up so I'd fuck you hard tonight? all you needed to do is ask, sweetie." Yunho said, curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, receiving some loud moans from you.

You could ask and he'd give you the moon if he could. But he was a completely different person in bed. There's something about him taking you like this, almost feral, that makes your toes curl.. could it be his fingers and how he curls them in you so good that he makes you shiver and cum, maybe squirt all over the place? would it be... his cock and how deep you feel it in you, scared that he might destroy your insides?

He fucks his fingers into you sloppily, scissoring you open with little to no care if it hurts or not. It was clear that he only had one goal in sight, and that being stretching you out just enough to be able to take his cock.

It only takes a few more strokes before he's satisfied, the blunt head of his dick prodding at your entrance, getting loud whimpers from you.

"Use the safe word if it's too much" he said and started pounding into you, making your hands rocket to the headboard, holding on for dear life. It's the only warning he gives you but.. it's enough to get an understanding on how pissed he was. He was holding so thight onto your thighs, them around his waist, that you knew you'd have bruises the next day.

"So fucking tiny" he grunts as he watches you struggle to adjust to his size "Such a whore for my cock, mhm? You take it so well... even if it destroys you. Be my cumslut, won't you? I'll edge you until you can't take it anymore."

"Y-yunho !" you shouted as he used a vibrator on your clit, arching your back at the sensation. The puffed bud he was stimulating made you feel like you'd already come, but something else happend. Your walls clenched on his cock, receiving a low grunt and as he slowed down his thrusts, he watched you contently at how you squirted all over him and the bed.

"Oh wow, already? Lucky this is the only thing I'm letting you do, you little slut" he said as he thrusted even deeper, harder, sloppier into you.

"Babe, n-no don't do th-that I might c-cum" you said as he was giving you another round of circles on your clit, feeling how overstimulated you were.

"Nope, I won't let you" he said as he stopped, pulling out of you, your hole clenching on nothing.

He started rubbing his length lazily, looking at you squirming right in front of him. You wanted to be fucked dumb, until you couldn't walk anymore. But that wasn't his plan for tonight.

"Let's make a deal. If you make me cum only with your mouth, no hands and no sucking. Just touching, licking and nibbling, I'll let you cum. Otherwise, you'll get slapped and fucked... not in your little aching pussy, but deep down in your cute and red ass, until you cry. What do you say, babe, a pretty good deal, I'd say?" he said as he uncuffed your hands, lifting you on your knees.

The thing is... you weren't quite.. on your knees. You were spread out, your aching hole rubbing on the wet and sloppy linen underneath you. You started humping it slowly, not knowing if you were allowed to, but he somehow didn't mind it. He knew you weren't able to cum only from humping on a cloth so he let you do your thing.

"Now.. be my little cumslut and get on licking." he said guiding your head to his dick, throbbing on your lips. You had your hands cuffed at your back, not being able to move them. You started kissing, nibling at the tip, getting some nice groans out of him. Then you started licking the slit, putting pressure with your tongue and licking his length all down to the base of it. The circles you always make on the tip get him from being silent to being louder, as the sloppy sounds of your tongue turns him on more.

"Yes, just like that, sweetie. A liiiittle bit more and you're getting me closer."

You started nibbling, almost like sucking on his tip.

"Yuh, mhm. Go on, make me cum, you little whore" he said as his breath started getting faster, heavier, your licks getting sloppier as he tried so hard not to cum but... you did the deal. He came all over your face, as you were not allowed to suck it.

"Good girl, such a good girl you are" he said as he wiped off his load from your face with one hand and with the other one opening your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip. He let his cum drip onto your tongue, signaling you by raising his brows to swallow. You did as he wanted, soon sucking his fingers to get every drop of his load.

"Y'know babe.. I kinda changed my mind in between your little nibbles." he said as he turned you over, on your belly, one of his hands on the back of your throat. "You're gonna take me so well, I will make sure of it." he said as two of his fingers went in your other hole, no warnings. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you. The same as before, his goal was to make your hole be able to engulf his length, but this time his goal was to bottom down entirely.

"Thought you could just leave me like that?" he wraps a hand around your waist, the other one on your neck, "leave me high and dry without any repercussions? You're lucky I'll keep my promise and let you cum so... cum, you little slut." as he started pounding heavily and deeply into you.

The hand he had on your waist goes to your pussy, curling them inside you and rubbing your clit.

You shake your head at his words, the coil in your tummy tightening with every word he hisses into your ear, wetness dripping down his balls and coating them as he pounds into your ass.

Yunho could feel you clenching around his cock, knows you're close by the familiar rhythm and your muffled whines rising in pitch. He removes his thight hold on your neck, letting you turn your head around, gasping for air.

"'m so close, fuck, yunho, gonna cum —"

Your entire body tenses then slumps down against the mattress, only held up by his strong arm around your waist. Yunho fucks you through your orgasm, through the oversensitivity and the chants of your little whimpers and words.

"too much, 's too much, please, s-stop" but you never use your safe word. You whine and you cry until your limp body is pushed over the edge again, eyes rolling back while you cream his cock, the 2nd time in a short time.

"c-can't," you whimper weakly, "please cum, please — Yunho, please-"

You're begging him so sweetly, voice cracking and body at his mercy. Yunho's hips stutter and his load spills deep inside of you. Your knees buckle under his waist and you whine when the two of you stumble back, his arms wrapped around your chest, all touchy on your breasts.

"You're gonna take my cum all, you little whore. Remember what I said, being my cumslut? Now, take it" he said as he continued pounding into you, getting you over the edge. He didn't lie when he said he'd destroy you, your knees trembling as he closed the gap between the two of you. He then pulled out, pumping his length and his other hand going to your clit over your thigh, sending you shivers down your spine as you squirt once again for the night, now your body being only handled by the hand he used on you.

"What a good whore I have, mm" he mumbled as he came on your back, slowing down his pumps as he slowly puts you down on the mattress.

"See babe? What happens if you're a fucking brat?" he said as he undid the blindfold, looking at your teary eyes.

"What, by the look you have, you want more, you little slut? Is that right?" he said as he slapped your ass.

"Don't worry, I wasn't even close to being done tonight, turn around, I want you to see me fucking you this time."

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #smut fic #ateez fic #ateez #ateez smut #ateez x y/n #fanfic #smut #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #yunho smut #bd/sm kink #bd/sm brat #dom/sub #cumslvt #whor3 #so hot 🔥🔥🔥

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ihfmseatsoch · 27 days ago

Note

I NEED DAD CURLY I KNOW U ALR DID THJS BUT FUCK. I’m a slut for curly🥹🩷 fem reader pls

haii sorry this took a hot minute.. im terribly sick -_- but i pushed through for dad curly #priorities. i should mention that the reader is OF LEGAL AGE ! even though they're still in school. they're supposed to be 18 or college age. Okay tyanks 👍🏻

genre: smut

word count: 3.3k

warnings/content: incest, age gap jealous curly, reader is daughterwife maxxing HARD, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, rough sex, creampie, daddy kink? idk hes your literal daddy so. shrugs

–

Curly wasn't a jealous man.

He was always secure and confident in his relationships, never wanting to come off as an overbearing boyfriend who spit in the direction of any man that looked his partners way. He didn't see his past lovers male friends as competition, in fact, he was more than welcoming towards them.

Which is why he can't identify the feeling twisting in the pit of his gut, one that just felt plain unpleasant, when he saw you hug a boy from your class as you were leaving your schools parking lot. Curly had come to pick you up as he usually does, and he's commonly greeted with a kiss on his cheek or a warm embrace from you immediately.

Not this.

Curly has always been fine with his daughter being friends with boys. He trusted you enough not to do anything stupid, not to make the wrong decisions. You'd never even had a boyfriend before, so it wasn't like the men in your life were always in the back of his mind. So why? Why did he feel so shitty? Protective, even?

What on earth was different about this specific instance that made him feel like he wanted to pull you away and drag you straight to the car?

You finally make your way to the car, opening the passenger side door, plopping yourself in the seat beside him. You lean over to give him one of your usual kisses, right on his scruffy cheek. "Hi, daddy!" You beam, an ear to ear smile plastered on your sweet face.

Your affection does nothing to alleviate the ugly feeling of possessiveness inside of him. The fact that you look oddly chipper right now makes him suspicious. Was it the unnamed kid you were holding so close just moments ago that's making you so cheerful?

Still, he feigns casualness, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as a sign of his own love for you. Curly enjoys the way you still give him the title "daddy", even at your age. He's repressed his own realization that he likes it a little too much. "Hey, sweetheart." His mouth feels strangely dry as he forces a smile. With hesitance and an intense battle with his own common sense, in which his common sense lost, he continues, "So... was that a friend of yours?"

You blink in confusion briefly, before realizing who he's talking about. "Oh, yeah! For about a week, that is. He just moved to town, so I've been showing him around and stuff. He's super nice." Your giggle after you mention how "nice" he is makes him feel even more on edge. He recognizes a crush when he sees one. This isn't good. Not at all. His heart plummets into his stomach, sizzling in its acid.

"Ah. Right." He nods curtly, leaving the conversation at that, as he lost his previous strength to pretend he doesn't feel awful right now. His foot presses down in the gas pedal a little too hard. The car ride is unusually silent. Typically, he'd be asking all about your day right now, what tests you have coming up, how your friends are doing, and you'd talk his ear off about it in return. There's none of that today, besides the hum of the cars engine and the sound of him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling fidgety.

Curly feels terribly guilty, noticing your confusion at his behavior. He can't blame you, this is the most awkward you two have been with each other. He wants to say something, apologize for his attitude, but his throat swells up whenever he tries to speak. Is this jealousy? The soul crushing feeling he's heard so much about?

But why would he be jealous of his own daughter's relationships? He should be supportive. He should be a good father, push away these maddening negative feelings and talk to you. Physically, he can't find it in him to do that. Everything about this is irrational, he knows it.

You said you'd only known that boy for a week, so why does he feel... afraid? Scared that he'll take his precious girl away from him? Curly can't stomach the idea of you giving your love to some random kid instead of him. The thought that one day you'll give someone else a fraction of the adoration you give him is unbearable. His baby girl wouldn't need her daddy anymore.

Only when you're both halfway to your home is when you decide to speak up, "You okay, Dad? You're acting weird."

Your words ring in his ears deafeningly. How can he even begin to explain himself? He's a shameful excuse of a father. Clearing his dry throat, he utters, "I'm fine, hon. Guess I'm just tired. Pony Express has been kickin' me in the ass more than usual." Curly manages to come up with a lie on the spot. He feels even worse for lying to you.

The loving concern etched in your face at his fake excuse makes his heart hurt. Now he's made you feel bad for him. God, what is wrong with him today? He must really be losing it. This midlife crisis shit is no joke.

"You should take more breaks, daddy. I don't like you being a workaholic all the time." Your hand moves to tenderly rub his tense shoulder, his skin tingling with goosebumps from the contact.

Swallowing, he responds, "I know, I know," with a sigh, he runs a hand through his wavy blonde curls, some of the strands turning grey in his old age, which he tries to ignore when he looks in the mirror. "Overworking myself is just part of the job, babydoll." Curly holds back a frustrated eye roll at Pony Express's mistreatment. Maybe he was more stressed than he thought. Maybe that's why he's behaving like this today. Nothing more. Right?

"I still don't like it," You say with a shake of your head, aware of how corrupt the company your father works for really is. "I'll tie you to the couch if I have to, if it gets you to relax."

Curly knows you're joking, but for some reason, the faux threat sounds suggestive to him. His thoughts quickly become inappropriate. He can't help but think about how he would feel... completely at your mercy, restrained, utterly submissive. "Mm, that'll be the day." He replies, trying to inject his usual humor in his sentence, shooting you a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, showing off his subtle tooth gap, one of his teeth a little crooked in a cute, boyish way.

After he pulls into your driveway and you two hop out, you walk as close as you can to him, holding onto his arm, holding back from feeling up his muscles. That'd just throw you into a whirlwind of inner conflict.

"I'm serious, though." You continue onto your previous conversation. "You'd better not do anything but relax tonight, or you're gonna hear it from me." It's amusing how much you sound like you're his wife, making demands like that. It feels... oddly nice to him, to imagine you playing that roll. You already do, in a way, with how you consistently fuss over and take care of him. "Yes ma'am," he lets out a short chuckle, his smile genuine this time, "I'll be good. Promise."

And he doesn't break his promise, mainly because you absolutely don't let him. He thought of sneaking off, making a few important phone calls, but you keep an intimidating eagles eye on him. It's endearing how much you care. Any lingering traces of his earlier jealousy are nearly gone, that stupid kid long forgotten. He knows that he's the most important man in your life. He always will be. It was silly to think you'd ever leave him. He's your daddy, you'd always be his.

You cook him dinner as he leans back in the couch, the stress melting from his weary bones, the weight of his responsibilities nonexistent tonight. This is bliss, Curly thinks. His sweet little girl doting on him, making his favorite meal while he doesn't have to lift a finger for once. Maybe this is what he truly wants out of life. Domesticity. Not having to worry about a thing except being pampered.

You make two plates of food, one for you, and one for your beloved father. You curl up on the couch beside him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as you eat dinner together. The atmosphere is more peaceful than Curly's felt in a long, long time. His heart swells with love and gratitude for you, for the lengths you go to just to make him happy.

What did he do to deserve a daughter so perfect? So beautiful, sweet, and kind? He could go on and on with endless praise for you. Curly wraps one arm around your shoulder, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you, sweetheart," he mumbles into your hair, "You're too good to me."

"Nothing's too good for you, daddy." You give him a kiss right below his ear in return. "I love you. Just wanna take care of you."

The simple act of endearment has his face heating up, the butterflies in his chest fluttering wildly. Pull yourself together, Grant, he tells himself firmly. He's just pent up. Hasn't been with a woman in... he doesn't know how long. And since he doesn't do hookups, preferring something more meaningful, he's been stuck with his own, lonely hand. Curly has to clear his throat to find his voice, "I– love you too, honey."

You two are still cuddled up on the couch, long after you finish eating. Curly's mindlessly watching a cooking show, in which a woman only seasons her chicken with salt and pepper. Thankfully, your body pressed to his is distracting him enough that he doesn't grimace imagining the plain flavor.

He knows he's disgusting, pathetic, in fact, for being so flustered right now. As he slowly rubs circles on your back, he can't help but think how good your form feels in his hands, soft and warm. It's like he's a hormone-ridden teenage boy, except in reality, he's your dad, and you're his own flesh and blood.

Against his better judgement, Curly's hand trails down to your hip, giving it a light squeeze, as if to test the waters on how far he could go. You don't react negatively, only cuddling closer to him. What the hell is he doing? He mentally screams at himself to stop. Stop thinking about how much smaller you look against his large frame, how easy it would be to pick you up, or push you down, your pretty eyes wide and staring up at him as he towers over you, hunched over your body–

He's hard. And, officially, a sick fuck.

Curly desperately hopes you don't notice the tent in his pants, he prays to whatever's out there that you don't look down, please, don't notice how perverted he is. You'd never forgive him, he's sure. You'd never look at him the same. He crosses his legs, a pathetic attempt to hide his rigid cock.

It comes to a point where the discomfort in his groin and the lust burning his insides becomes too much it bear. Taking in a shallow breath, he finally decides on doing the unthinkable. "Hey... Sweetheart?" Curly sounds uncertain in himself, his confidence teetering on a thin tightrope. You turn your head to him, ever so trusting.

"Yeah?" You say, wondering why his body is so taut all of a sudden, and why his index and thumb is fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He struggles to look you in the eye as he continues, "Can... Can I ask you for one more thing?" His heart thumps in his throat.

You nod, always willing to satisfy his every whim. He's given you the best life he possibly could, you owe him everything in return, don't you? "Of course," You smile, "Anything."

That innocent look in your eyes only makes him feel guiltier. Curly stays quiet for a few seconds, just contemplating if he's really about to do this, if he's really willing to possibly ruin your relationship forever. His hand moves up to cup your cheek. God, it's practically bigger than your face, he notices. Baby blue eyes get lost in the sight of your lips, making him swallow from sheer temptation as he inches closer to you.

It takes your brain a moment to process what's happening, and when it does, strangely enough, you don't pull away. If this is what he needs, why would you deny him? He's your dad, the person you trust the most in the world. He wouldn't do anything that could hurt you. He bites back whatever self-control he has left, pressing his lips to yours, soft and experimental. The biggest spark he's ever felt ignites in his chest, your lips feel unlike any other woman's he's ever kissed. You're perfect.

You can't say you haven't thought about this. You've always found your dad handsome, and charming; more than the average daughter would. You've never kissed a boy before, and you're more than ecstatic that Curly is your first. You link your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss, desire building up in your abdomen embarrassingly quick.

His hand gravitate towards your waist on instinct, the kiss which was originally sweet and tender turning into a full-on make out session. You let out a quiet whimper at the intensity of it all, his cock twitching in his pants at the cute sound. Fuck, he's never wanted anyone like this before, so ravenously. Curly makes himself pull away for air, too far gone to feel any semblance of guilt anymore, especially when you're looking at him so eagerly. You want this too. There's nothing to feel bad about.

"Is this okay, honey?" He breathes, chest heaving as he pants. "You alright with this?"

You nod silently, unable to find any words to say in your aroused state, your body overwhelmingly hot all of a sudden. That's all the consent he needs from you in order to lay you on your back, peeling off every article of your clothing with delicate care, marvelling at your bare figure under him.

You feel incredibly shy having him see you like this, covering your breasts with your hands, pressing your thighs together. "No, no. Don't do that, baby." he cooes, gently coaxing you to reveal yourself to him again, much stronger hands spreading your legs apart so he can get a good look at your cunt, glistening with slick. Knowing that he was the one who made you this wet so easily elicits a low groan from him.

"Look at you," he murmurs, sighing shakily at the very sight of you, "Dripping wet, just for your daddy." You whine as he runs his thumb along your slit, stopping at your puffy clit so he can rub the sensitive nerve in slow circles, his experienced hands making you gasp in surprise. A rough palm reaches up to gingerly fondle one of your tits, your father peering intently down at you from above.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he sighs, like he's in awe, "You know that? Such a pretty girl. Always have been." He pulls his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring free, and he hisses at the sudden rush of cool air against his tepid shaft, tip flushed red. Your eyes widen at its size. Massive, is once way to describe it. A thick vein runs down his length, pulsing with warm blood. Curly notices the intimidated expression on your face, and he presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. "I'll go slow. Don't wanna hurt you. S' gonna be okay, babygirl."

His tone is as consolatory as ever, and you can't help but believe him. Why shouldn't you?

It stings when he prods the head into your untouched, virgin hole, the ache worsening as he pushes in further. "D– Dad–" you whimper, eyes brimming with tears of pain, "It's not gonna fit, it hurts–" Curly shushes you, stroking your hair back to calm you down. "I know, I know, baby. It'll go away, I promise." His breathing stutters, a stifled moan erupting from his chest, your walls gripping him tighter than any pussy he's ever felt in his life.

When he's fully inside you, he tries his hardest to restrain himself and be gentle, lightly panting, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts cautiously, paying close attention to every nosie you make so he knows you're feeling good. "Takin' me so well, honey," he grunts, "Y' feel that? You're taking daddy so deep." He presses his hand to your stomach, where you can feel his cock prodding against your insides.

Your little whines and moans at every thrust inside you don't help his quickly diminishing willpower to keep your first time nice and gentle. He wants to be careful with his baby girl, he truly does, but you sound so fucking cute when he goes just a little harder, making you squeak in surprise.

You really can't blame him for ending up with your legs hanging limp on his shoulders, pushing them back so his cock can hit all the right angles, making your pussy clench and squeeze around him so tight, it only encourages him to fuck you as rough as you can take it. Your slick runs all the way down to your ass, his his balls making a wet slapping sound every time he rams into it.

"Dad– Daddy–" is all you can mewl, breathless, your brain short-circuiting from pleasure, practically going dumb from his cock. "Yeah?" Curly grins, relishing in the effect he has on you, "Daddy's making you feel so good, isn't he?" All you can do is nod stupidly at his question, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You abdomen pulsates with warmth, an unfamiliar tingling washing over your body.

"I f– feel weird." You tell him with a trembling whimper. "You're alright, just means you're close." Curly reassures you, simply. "Daddy wants to see you cum for him, honey. Don't hold back."

It doesn't take long for the build up tension inside of you to burst, your back arching as complete euphoria coarses through every inch of your body, a gutteral moan escaping your lips. "There we go, that's my girl," Curly croons, "Cum all over daddy's cock. You look so gorgeous right now, sweetheart."

Due to his age, he takes a little longer to get close to his own orgasm, continuing to fuck you through your overwhelming sensitivity. "M' almost there," he rasps, his head moving down to rest in the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your flushed skin, "Nngh– gonna fill you up, baby– you want that? Want dad's cum inside of you?"

Your hazy state of mind makes it difficult to consider the risks, so you nod, agreeing to whatever he says.

"God, fuck– I love you, I love you, I love you–" he babbles, and with a throaty groan through clenched teeth, he spills his release inside of you, the warm and gooey substance filling your hole to the brim. Curly's legs give out, causing him to collapse on top of you, his broad chest pressed to yours, his body hair tickling your skin lightly.

When he finally catches his breath, he pulls out, and grabs a warm cloth to wipe away the cum that seeps from your hole. "You alright? Didn't hurt you or anything, yeah?" He asks, genuinely concerned, and a little guilty for not being able to hold himself back. "I'm fine..." You mumble, exhausted, "Just a little sore."

"M' sorry, sweet pea." Curly gives you a kiss on the cheek, as if it'll make everything all better. To be honest, it does help a little. So does his meticulous aftercare, and his cuddles.

You don't really want to think about the future consequences of your father cumming inside of you right now.

–

#mouthwashing curly x reader #curly mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #dead dove #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #dddne #incest tw #tw incest #cw incest #incest cw

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soaps-mohawk · 4 months ago

Text

The Unicorn

Kyletober Day 8: Frottage

Summary: You were hesitant at first until he proved himself. Now you just like watching.

Pairing: Kyle x John x John’s wife!reader

Word Count: 1,133 words

Warnings: brief fear of cheating at the beginning, Frottage, badly written handjobs, a couple and their unicorn, fingering, mention of munch!Kyle

A/N: This one was fun to write...you'll see why hehe

MASTERLIST

He's cheating.

That had been the first thought that came to mind when your husband sat you down to have a conversation. He'd just returned from months of being away, and you knew he was going to drop the bomb. There was someone else, someone younger and prettier he met halfway across the world on deployment.

What you hadn't been expecting was for him to come out as bisexual. After years and years of marriage he'd never even once hinted at it, much less told you. Then again, you know sometimes it takes time to notice and accept these things. You wouldn't have guessed though, your rough and manly husband who chops wood and works on cars and goes fishing is also interested in men?

Never judge a book by its cover, they say.

What had shocked you even more was his admission that he met a man he was interested in. Fear had spiked in your heart, thinking he was going to divorce you for this man, but what he said next shocked you almost more than him coming out.

He wasn't going to leave you, he wanted to bring this man into your relationship.

You had been hesitant at first, worried that he might wiggle his way into your husband’s heart and you’d wind up divorced anyway.

Then you met Kyle.

You’ve never been so glad you decided to try.

Your thighs are slick as you watch them, a tangle of limbs and tongues. You're seated on the lounge in the corner of the room, watching your husband and his toy. Your thighs are still trembling slightly from the near mind-numbing orgasm Kyle had given you with his mouth a few minutes ago.

Your husband is currently cleaning the remnants of it off Kyle’s face with his tongue.

You're nowhere near satisfied, your pussy starting to throb again as you watch them. Kyle's hands are resting on your husband's soft waist, the prominent bulges in their briefs pressed tight together. Kyle moans into John's mouth as he pushes his hips against Kyle's, their cocks rubbing together through the fabric.

“Bloody christ.” John groans as Kyle kisses down his neck, focusing on the spot behind his ear. You taught Kyle all of John's favorite spots, all the places that drive him crazy.

“Fuck...” Kyle hisses as John grinds against him.

“Let me see that pretty cock.” John growls, pushing Kyle back just slightly.

You bite back a moan as Kyle pushes his briefs down his legs, that cute, pert ass on display from your angle. His cock stands at attention, longer than he is thick, but John makes up plenty for that. His cock is thick and heavy where it sits between his thighs. Your pussy flutters as you stare at them, two beautiful men so very different and yet so much alike.

Kyle takes John's cock in his hand, pumping it as he steps closer. You half expect him to drop to his knees, but instead he steps right up to John, closing his hand around both of their cocks. You watch captivated as Kyle rubs their cocks together, his long fingers wrapped around both. Their eyes are locked, lips parted as they both breathe heavily.

“So fucking pretty.” John groans, cupping the back of Kyle’s neck. “Look at you.”

Kyle sinks his teeth into his lip, his head tilting back into John’s hand. You shift in the lounge, putting your feet up on the ottoman to give yourself room. There’s a painful throb between your legs as you watch them, your fingers slipping down between your thighs to try and ease that ache a bit.

John tilts his head down, a glob of spit landing on their cocks. Kyle’s hand spreads it across their skin as he continues to pump their cocks, his hand picking up speed. You match his speed with your fingers on your clit, your pussy already wet and pulsing just from watching them together.

“Fuck, fuck,” Kyle groans. “Feels so fucking good.”

John leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, both of them staring down at their cocks as Kyle rubs them together. They’re a sight, the two of them. John is always the dominant one, and Kyle is always willing to sub for him. He trusts John on a level you can’t quite understand because you’re so separated from their world. It’s different from the trust you have with your husband, but perhaps that’s why the three of you work so perfectly.

Kyle lifts his gaze, staring into John’s eyes. His kiss-plump lips are parted as he moans, the sound like a sweet music harmonizing with John’s own deep, breathy groans. You sink your teeth into your lip to hold in your own as you sink two fingers into yourself, easing off your clit to delay an orgasm. You don’t want to distract them from this moment, you don’t want to pull them away from each other. Not yet.

Kyle’s hand speeds up even faster, his hips rolling in time with his thrusts. “Fuck, fuck.” He moans, dropping his head to rest it on John’s shoulder.

John grips his hips, both of them thrusting into Kyle’s hand. They’re close, the telltale needy breathiness pitching their moans higher. Your own fingers curl around the arm of the chair, the wet squelch of your fingers hidden under the wet sound of their cocks. You can imagine them coated in precum, slick and shiny as they get closer and closer to their orgasms.

“Gonna cum.” Kyle moans, his words muffled against John’s shoulder.

“Cum for me.” John grunts, cupping the back of Kyle’s head again.

Kyle’s whole body shudders, his hips jerking as he cums, the white fluid leaking from his tip to coat his hand. John follows almost immediately after, a long groan leaving his lips as his hips press against Kyle’s hand. It’s such a tender moment, both of them breathing heavily, leaning against each other as Kyle’s hand slows to a stop, milking every last drop they can give. John eases Kyle’s head up off his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It speaks volumes of their care and love for each other.

John leans forward to whisper something in his ear, Kyle’s lips lifting in a smirk. They both turn to look at you as John leans back, your face warm as they meet your gaze. Your legs close around your hand as you sit there, the energy in the room shifting.

“Not quite done yet, are we, sweetheart?” John says, his gaze darkening as he looks at you.

No, you’re not.

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#kyletober #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #GazPrice #gaz x price #Kyle Garrick x John price #kinktober 2024 #call of duty #call of duty fic

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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22 with toji? >___< i love mamaguro but sometimes i be thinkingggg..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

A/N: ughhh ikr 🤤😔 ik this goes without saying (hopefully) but y'all don't cheat 😵‍💫 read fiction about ur fave anime boys cheating with u instead lmao

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: TOJI Fushiguro x f.reader

Summary: you and Toji getting up to no good in your favorite hotel room

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, infidelity, pns (baby, slut, bitch) cheating kink, slight size kink, nasty dirty talk, slightly mean/rough Toji, taking condom off (mutually consensual), breeding kink, slight hairpulling, one ass slap (why is it always just ONE lmao), kinda rough/manhandling but not rlly, daddy kink, prone bone/from the back, lmk if i have missed anything <3

♪ i keep going back to this hotel room...

Damn you, he thinks while squeezing himself into a condom that’s very slightly too small for his size.

You’re to blame – to blame for being spellbinding, bewitching, entrancing, irresistible, alluring… he never thought about straying until you showed up one day in the office, pretty smile and naughty glint in your eyes.

“Fuck me…” he seethes when he sinks into your tight pussy – so happily spreading your legs for him on the hotel bed. With how many times you two have come and gone through this room on weekends, you’re pretty sure the receptionist has figured out what happens behind those closed doors.

“ ‘s so fucking sexy when you arch your back like that for me, pretty thing.” Toji grunts, splitting you wide open on his cock. “ ‘missed me?” he asks cheekily, feeling how much you’re gushing for him after such simple touching earlier – he had kissed you like he was starved of the taste of your lips, touched you like he’s never laid hands on a female form before. It made sense why he acted so needy, you hadn’t seen him for two weekends straight after all.

“Mhm! Missed you so much…” you moan into the pillow, bringing your hands down to spread your pussylips so you can take his cock better.

His cockhead always glides in so nicely, but halfway in his length got so thick that your pussy just spat his cock out. He always chuckles when it does.

“ ‘been too long, baby, ‘gotta stretch out that pussy all over again. Make it remember daddy’s cock.”

Toji tightly pins your waist down into the mattress, just feeling a fraction of his strength turns you on. Yeah, you’ve met strong guys before – but Toji was fucking strong. He could toss you into any position he wanted, he could make you feel weightless at times.

Those calloused hands know your body better than your own. He knows which sweet spots to his to make you cream, what pace makes you claw at his biceps, what dirty talk makes you cum. He knows everything about your body. He almost doesn’t wanna admit it, but he knows your body better than his own wife’s.

“Fuckin’ slut, look at you going dumb on my dick already. Keep it together, we just started.” He chuckled meanly, giving your ass an encouraging smack to bring you back to earth. “What? ‘This position too much for you?” he asked rhetorically – because he knew damn well that you couldn’t handle him pressing his weight onto you from behind like this.

“Nooo, I can take it!” you squeak, biting the hotel pillow as you hug it for support. He always feels so good that you need some form of comfort. The feeling of his fat tip nudging against your sweet spot and throbbing there makes you say some nasty shit that makes him smirk. “Fuuuck – just fuck me alre – fuuuck, mhm! Like that! Like that!” you sob into the pillow when he fulfils your wishes and pounds into you from behind like an animal.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and gently pulls your head back, making his lips meet your ear – scar grazing against your skin. “Don’t go all quiet on me. I know how fucking nasty you are – what’ve you been wanting to tell me huh? I know you missed me bad.”

His cockhead hits the spot that makes you spill the truth. “Fuuuck – daddy fuck me like I’m yours.” You said, “F-fuck me like I’m your wife.”

“Shit… dirty fuckin’ bitch, you talk like that and you’re gonna make me cum.” He breathes heavily into your ear, sweat already beading off his abdomen with his intensely he’s rutting into you. “You really like me, huh? Haha, yeah, I know – it’s so cute. So cute that you cum so much on this cheating cock. Uh-huh, don’t get shy on me now – we both know we get off on that. Just be honest with yourself – there we go, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

He groans, big arms entangling with your body. You can feel his muscles twitching, you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat and sex all mixing in the air. And him? He’s burying his head into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. Your perfume drives him nuts, it makes him dizzy like he’s some lovesick teenager.

Everything he holds back from telling you, he admits when he’s pussy-drunk and about to cum. “Fuck, sweet thing, ‘wanna give you a baby. D’you want that? Yeah? F-fuck really? You sure? You want my babies? Shit alright, I’ll give you a fucking baby t’night. Don’t tell her it’s mine.” He said, tugging his cock out of your pussy despite your walls hugging him like they were trying to keep him in there forever.

You reach behind you and pull off the condom yourself, and he just watches, half-drooling at the sight, before plunging back inside you and doing what he promised – giving you his babies.

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crazyoffher · 1 year ago

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BREATHLESS.

summary: jenna's jealousy gets the best of her.

warnings: smut (18+) — rough sex, strap-on referred to as "cock", fingering, slapping, slight dirty talk, jealousy, implied continuing sex, slight teasing, dom!jenna + sub!reader.

word amount: 2400+

a/n: hi.

It took about one hour, three drinks, and unconsciously flirting with someone else for Jenna to dismiss you both, dragging you to the upstairs bathroom in the house and bending you over the sink to fuck you deep and hard with a strap-on.

The party was more of an afterparty, celebrating the premiere of Scream 7 that you had attended with your girlfriend, Jenna, not long ago. You both played characters in the movie that survived, Jenna’s being a recurring character while yours was new, finding love with the smaller girl during filming and leading you to the happiness that you never thought you’d find.

Ten minutes prior to finding yourself in a rather pleasurable position in the bathroom, you were sitting around an extended couch with the main Scream cast, talking and chatting as if you were all high school friends that hadn’t seen one another in years. The root of Jenna’s soon-to-come rage started with another new character’s actor, Jeremiah, that your character dated until the reveal of his character being one of the killers.

“(Y/N)!” He called from the other side of the couch, a disgruntled expression on his face that formed upon seeing you cuddled up with Jenna. Your head rested on her shoulder while her arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and he quickly covered up his expression and replaced it with a rather enthusiastic one, but Jenna caught it.

She caught every expression he gave you, seemingly only making it obvious to herself and nobody else that the boy had a crush on you. He hid it well, but not well enough to bypass Jenna’s hardening gaze she sent his way when she’d find him staring at you from afar.

Or when he’d get a little too close for comfort, his arm brushing up against yours while he eyed you with a gaze filled with nothing but love when you rambled on about a topic.

Jenna fucking hated Jeremiah.

She trusted you with her life, knowing you’d never leave her, cheat on her, get mad at her for a stupid reason, nothing. You were the light that led her from the darkness, but God, did she wish that you weren’t so oblivious sometimes? She hoped day by day that you’d notice how Jeremiah acted toward you and immediately shut him down, but that day hadn’t come yet.

Instead, you unconsciously leaned into his flirtatious remarks as your conversation furthened, not seeing them as short-indirect advances and shooting back with words he took to heart. Jenna’s blood boiled. She knew you had no idea what flirtatious situations you found yourself in with him, but it didn’t help her urge to fuck you in front of everybody to show them all that you were hers. Hers only.

So instead, she did the next best thing and excused the two of you, her hand firmly digging into your wrist as she brought you upstairs and into the bathroom. “Jenna, are you alr-”

“Shhh.” She shushed you, closing the door behind you and locking it with a click before taking you into a bruising kiss. Your back met the door with force; Jenna’s hands were digging under your shirt and roaming your skin. Her fingers flicked over your breasts, and you let out a rather embarrassing groan at the simple touch, which only spurred her on. Her hands gripped the entirety of your breasts while she redirected her lips to your neck.

You pulled away in desperation for air, eyes blown as you stared wildly at your heaving girlfriend. “Baby, are you okay?”

“No time for me to answer that.” Her voice was husky, and her hands almost ripped your shirt off as she pushed it over your head. Jenna tossed the clothing item aside, her hands quickly sliding their way to your back to undo your bra, and your nipples hardened from exposure to the cold air when she slid the covering fabric off of you.

“Tell me,” she started off, two of her fingers moving to roll your nipples, and you let out a large breath at the sensation. You’d always been sensitive when it came to your breasts, and Jenna never wasted the advantage she had to use that part of you whenever she’d overstimulate you.

“Who do you belong to?”

“¿Qué diablos?” You pulled your head back, creating space between you and Jenna, and her eyebrows furrowed at you. “Huh?”

You sighed, being the bilingual one out of the two of you, and craned your neck to the side slightly. “Why are you being possessive? I don-” Jenna's lips on yours again, her hands messing with the belt strapped to your pants, cut your rambling short. She slid the belt through the hooks on your jeans, bunching it up and tossing it where your shirt and bra sat, and your underwear soon joined the mess on the floor.

“You don’t understand how badly he wants you, don’t you?” Her lips moved from your lips to your neck, sucking directly over your pulse point. A jolt of what felt like electricity shot down to your core, the sensation too pleasurable, though you fought back, “Who is ‘he’?”

“Jeremiah.” Jenna’s reply was simple: her lips removing from your neck. She kneeled down before you, hands placed on your hips, while those big, brown, wide-gazed innocent eyes looked up at you. A small smirk tugged at her lips, and you could only let out a small huff at his name, words piling in your throat but sticking to come out.

One of her hands that sat on your hips slid their way to the outline of your core, teasingly sliding her fingers around your sensitive area. You bit your lip, fiercely trying to contain a whine from the teases. “Baby, I don’t think he likes me. We’ve been through this.”

“I know we have.” Jenna pressed a small kiss to the side of your stomach, using that as a movement to catch you off guard when she slid her thumb through your folds, pressing down against your clit. You sucked in a breath, releasing a disgruntled noise when she started to slowly rub the nub in circles. “But you’re just too oblivious to see that he wants you badly. Never as badly as I’ll ever need you, though.”

“Jen-”

“But you just don’t listen, so I guess I’ll have to fuck the obliviousness out of you, yeah?” In quick maneuvers, Jenna stood up and grabbed your waist, giving you a dark look before forcefully turning you around to where your back was to her front. You gulped at the feeling of your ass brushing against something hard, realizing what was strapped to her hips inside her pants, and your mind filled with excitement.

Jenna pushed her index and middle fingers into your cunt with ease, her demanding words turning you on more than you knew and enabling her to fuck your tight, wet hole with ease. You let out a choked-out, breathy moan. In spite of knowing that she was making you feel wonderful, she went rough, the sound of your slick against her fingers making her own mind dizzy.

“Please.” You whined out, hands gripping the sink countertop, when Jenna bent your upper body over to dig her fingers deeper into you. Your head hung low, high-pitched whimpers filling the room with the mixture of Jenna’s fingers pumping in and out of you and the bulge in her pants purposefully rubbing around your core.

“Come on, baby.” Jenna’s body was bent over yours, whispering dirty nothings into your ear and taking pleasure in the way your face rapidly contorted into different expressions. “You gonna cum for me, honey?”

You couldn’t form words, already trying your hardest not to release the loudest moans known to mankind to alert your friend group downstairs, so you dumbly nodded. The feeling that you grew used to—the burning feeling in your stomach—burned hotter and hotter with each pump of Jenna’s fingers.

“That’s too bad, honey.” Just as quickly as the pleasure came, it left, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that left your mouth at the feeling of your hole being empty. A harsh slap came to your ass a second later, causing your body to jolt from both the pain and pleasure, and you hung your head lower.

“Don’t whine at me.” Jenna spoke shortly, though firmly, and she sent another slap to your ass, the skin turning a bright red. “You should be grateful I don’t plan on leaving you edged.” One more slap was sent to your skin, but this time it was to your wet pussy. You let out a small whine at the action, and Jenna slapped the area once more. Veins popped out of your neck at the self-control you managed, keeping in your whines at that slap and instead releasing a harsh breath.

“Good girl,” Her voice purred, and you could’ve came from just her words; the way her tone was low and smooth sent an eerie spark to your spine. The tight grip you formerly had on the sink returned, and you felt the head of the silicone cock rubbing up against your entrance.

“Shit, shit.” The cock sank in deeper, stretching you out profusely from it’s girth, and you could feel every fake vein on the cock as it trapped itself in your velvet-colored walls. Soon enough, Jenna’s hip met your ass, and she halted her movements for one second, helping you adjust to the girth—and length—of the silicone deep inside of you.

She always chose her biggest, just for you.

Her movements were slow; she thrust slowly, almost unsure if you were comfortable due to the emptiness of your voice.

“Faster, please.” Her assurance was placed down, and the girl bit her lip in eagerness. The grip on your hips became more firm, with nails digging into your skin and creating crescent-shaped indents on the area. In one swift motion, she drew her hips back, leaving only the head of the cock in before thrusting it’s entire length back into you roughly.

You let out a moan that sounded as if it came out of a pornstar's mouth, too sure in your mind that somebody from downstairs had heard the noise. It’s not like you cared anymore; your mind and body were too occupied by the pace at which Jenna’s thrusts had grown.

She was giving you a deep, rough fuck while adoring the way your face appeared—eyes closed, mouth open, and emitting a mixture of moans and whines. “God,” Jenna bent herself over your back, taking a hand off from your hip to grip your face roughly.

“Look at yourself, so needy and submissive, all for me.” You were greeted by Jenna's lust-filled, glaring eyes when you faced the mirror. “Taking all of my cock so well.” If it was even possible, she grunted as she pounded into you more forcefully so she could see the way your eyes closed, uttering long, drawn-out groans.

Her eyes trailed all over your body, noticing how your back twitched through every thrust, and a big grin drew itself over her face. “So close to cumming already, baby?” Her light laugh echoed in your ears; you could feel your ears turning pink in embarrassment, letting out a drawful whine when her hand snaked under your figure to circle your clit.

“Fuck.” Jenna groaned herself, only now noticing how her orgasm was building up through the strap hitting her clit with each thrust, and now she wanted nothing more than to chase it.

Her hands rejoiced on your hips, and you let out a squeal when you were effortlessly turned over and pushed up to sit on the sink, the silicone cock never leaving it’s place inside you. Two lips met in a searing kiss, your hands snaking through Jenna’s hair to bring her closer as her thrusts began once more.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, eyes trained on your body. Her eyes watched as, with every deep thrust, the cock's head poked through your stomach. A hand found itself on your skin, pushing into the bulge of your stomach. You let out a groan, finding more pain in that movement than pleasure. Seeing your discomfort, Jenna removed her hand, trailing it around your jaw and muttering an apology before taking you in for another kiss.

It wasn't long before Jenna felt the burning rage of an inner coil wanting to snap, her mouth wide open, as she fucked into you with even more angst. She rubbed your clit in circles with more force than her thrusts, trailing her thumb in a desperate effort to get you hotter. You let out a deep moan, your hands flying to Jenna’s shoulders to keep yourself from falling due to your failing limbs.

You whined. “Fuck, Jenna, I’m gonna cum.” The moment your orgasm finally came, you flung your head into Jenna's neck crook and bit down on the skin there, causing her to groan. She continued thrusting for another second before she felt her own legs start to tremble, her hand grabbing hold of the back of your head as her head fell on top of yours, and she moaned into your hair.

You both lingered there for a short while, savoring the pleasure's afterglow, before finally separating and taking a breath. Jenna gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head while gently running her hand through your hair. “Are you still oblivious, honey?”

Your head fell from her neck to her shoulder, muttering a small “no”, and Jenna laughed at your tired state.

“Oh, honey, you can’t be tired yet.” Your head lazily drew itself up, turning to face her with your eyebrows furrowed, foreshowing your confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He’s still downstairs, is he not? When we see him on our way out, you can only trust my words when I say that I plan on doing much more to you in the car.”

☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @alexkolax @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @n0vabug @idkwimdtbh @yolehiho

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #celebrity x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jealousy trope #wednesday addams #tara carpenter #lorraine day #smut #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x reader smut #female character x female reader #tumblr #lgbtq+#jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfiction #lesbian

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libingan · 6 months ago

Text

— wolf’s den. (3)

summary: after finding yourself lost in the forest, you accidentally stumble across a wolf’s den. unfortunately for you, his intentions are dark and possessive—he's chosen you to be his mate, dragging you into a nightmarish world where escape seems impossible.

cw: kidnapping, dark content, noncon/dubcon, wolf hybrid! ghost x bunny hybrid! reader, sex is mentioned lol

a/n: i keep forgetting to add the fuckin summary yall HAHSHWSHW this chapter is p short bc i got errands to run and i wanted to finish my idea before i went out

i alr have the entire story plotted out, it has five chapters lololol

part two | part four

simon's relentless determination became a daily ordeal. every night, and often during the day, he would take you, his desire insatiable, his possessiveness unyielding. he claimed you whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, showing no regard for your feelings or your pleas. the wolf hybrid had you in every position imaginable, on every surface of the house. the bed, the kitchen table, the floor, even against the walls – no place was off-limits. each encounter left you more exhausted and hopeless than the last.

you found yourself falling into a routine, your days blending into a cycle of submission and survival. simon’s dominance was overwhelming, his presence a constant reminder of your captivity. the way he looked at you, his intense gaze always watching, always assessing, sent shivers down your spine. his touch, though rough and possessive, had a way of igniting a primal part of you, a part that you despised.

your feelings were a whirlwind of confusion and despair. you hated him for what he was doing to you, for the way he had taken away your freedom. yet, a small part of you, the part that craved touch and connection, found itself responding to his relentless advances. you felt disgusted with yourself, your mind and body at war with each other.

it wasn’t long before you started noticing changes in your body. nausea in the mornings, heightened sensitivity to smells, and an unfamiliar heaviness settling in your lower abdomen. you knew the signs all too well – you were pregnant. the realization sent a wave of fear through you. the idea of carrying simon’s pups, of raising his children, was too much to bear.

the days stretched into a monotonous blur. you spent your time tending to the chores simon assigned you, his voice a constant, commanding presence in your life. “clean this,” he’d say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “cook me something to eat.” his orders were simple, but the way he delivered them, the way he watched you with that predatory gaze, made your skin crawl.

you had learned to grow accustomed to his routines, his expectations. despite how helpless you felt, you had to survive. there were moments when you almost forgot the fear, when you focused solely on the tasks at hand, blocking out everything else. but then simon would touch you, his hands rough and demanding, and the reality of your situation would come crashing back.

desperation clawed at you as you tried to find a way out. you couldn’t live like this, couldn’t subject your future offspring to the same fate. you had to escape, for their sake and yours. you waited for the right moment, for simon to leave on one of his hunting trips, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

the day finally came. simon left early, his usual routine, and you knew this was your chance. you packed what little you could carry, your hands trembling as you moved swiftly and silently. every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t afford to be caught this time.

you slipped out of the house, your bunny ears twitching with every sound, your heart pounding in your chest. the forest seemed darker, more foreboding than before, but you pressed on, driven by a desperate need for freedom. you ran, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs aching with the effort.

hours passed, the forest blurring around you as you pushed forward. you didn’t stop until you were sure you had put enough distance between yourself and simon’s den. you collapsed against a tree, your body trembling with exhaustion and relief. you were free. for now.

simon returned home to an unsettling silence. his senses immediately told him something was wrong. he called out for you, his voice echoing through the empty house. there was no response. his heart raced as he began searching each room, his movements becoming more frantic with each empty space he found.

“where the fuck are you?” he growled, his temper rising. the realization that you had escaped dawned on him slowly, his anger boiling over. he tore through the house, overturning furniture, breaking anything in his path. his fury was palpable, a dangerous storm brewing within him.

by the time he reached the final room, his patience had snapped. he stood amidst the wreckage, his breath coming in harsh pants, his fists clenched at his sides. you were gone, and he knew he couldn’t easily find you in the vast expanse of the forest. he roared in frustration, the sound echoing through the empty house, a promise that he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

you might have escaped for now, but simon riley was a relentless hunter. and he would never rest until he had his mate back in his grasp.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #x fem reader #ghost x reader #cw dark content #cw kidnapping #cw power imbalance

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j-k-writes · 2 months ago

Note

Soulmates!au with Jaime lannister x stark male (benjen's twin brother) reader pretty please?🥺

With prompts: you're a demanding little thing, aren't you? And i will never be able to carve you from my heart. you are embedded too deep.

Summary - Jamie Lannister does not remember much of the first night he spent with Y/N Stark, but the night still haunts him for years after he stormed out of the younger man's chambers.

Warnings - General GOT warnings, implied sexual content, drinking

Jamie scarcely recognized Winterfell as he rode through the open gates.

The castle he had spent weeks in all those years ago was loud and full of life, but the one he took in now was on its last breaths. The people who bustled around the keep had no life in their eyes, their posture and eyes giving away the impending doom that was coming their way.

Jamie made himself scarce amongst the Northerners, sticking mostly to his brother’s side as war plans were made and the castle was fortified. It was during one of the war councils, that Tyrion was welcome at but Jamie was not, that he saw him.

If someone asked, Jamie forgot about Y/N Stark the moment the door slammed behind his back in a fit of rage all those years ago. But the truth of the matter was that Y/N Stark had plagued Jamie’s every waking thought and dream for the last three and half years. Jamie remembered next to nothing about his last night in Winterfell, but the feel of Y/N rough stubble against his skin and teeth against his neck were forever burned into his mind. The Northerner’s chest was impossibly warm pressed against Jamie’s skin, and his lips had tasted like the very same wine that got Jamie into his bed in the first place.

Jamie made eye contact with him across the yard, the gooseflesh that crawled down his arms had nothing to do with the cold when Y/N’s eyes lit up in recognition. From the look of him it was clear to the ex-kingsguard that he was not the only one of them to have a rough few years. His face which had been rough from labor at the wall yet still full of life and humor was scarred and lacking the warmth that Jamie remembered. All of the life that Y/N’s presence had brought to Winterfell's halls all the years ago was dead; it seemed as Jamie watched him from afar for days.

Y/N spent his days moving almost mindlessly, preparing Winterfell for siege and talking in hushed whispers to Jon and the other commanders. He didn’t join the rest of them for meals or training, and the time he did spend out of his chambers he spent with the Wildlings, comfortable enough with them that Jamie could tell there was a story there. It wasn’t until the night before the Long Night, possibly their last night, that Jamie worked up the balls to track him down and talk.

“Jon I alre-” The door the chambers opened with a clang as Y/N threw the door open, he paused at the sight of Jamie standing there, a pitcher of wine in his hand. “Jamie?”

“I brought wine.”

Y/N shook his head, letting out a short laugh, “Come in.”

They ended up splitting four pitchers of wine between them before Y/N cut them both off, “We’re fighting a war tomorrow. We’ll be no use drunk.”

Y/N leaned over to place the empty pitcher back on the table and Jamie could smell the wine on his breath as the man entered his space. The smell of wine and the sudden closeness brought Jamie back to the last time they’d been left alone drunk with each other.

Jamie could never figure out just exactly how Y/N had convinced him into his bed, but he remembers the moment where Jamie decided that it was what he wanted.

‘You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?’ The man had whispered in his ear, pressing up against the door and pushing the breath out of Jamie's lungs. Jamie had been drunk, arrogant, and controlling throughout their journey up to the room, making snide comments about Y/N’s vows that Y/N had returned tenfold with taunts of Jamie and Cersei’s relationship that he had been too drunk to deny. As soon as Y/N’s rough laugh and taunting words had reached Jamie’s ears his resolve had broken and his knees had gone weak.

“Jamie?” Y/N said cautiously, snapping the man out of his memories.

“I still think about that night.” The words tumbled out of Jamie’s mouth before he could stop them and Y/N froze. Before the wine induced bravery could leave him, Jamie continued. “It’s been three years since and you still plague my dreams. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to speak to you since I arrived, can you imagine? The Kingslayer, scared of a conversation.”

Y/N laughed, “You’re drunk.”

“No.” Jamie shook his head. “If being drunk is what makes me think of you this way, I've been drunk every waking moment for the last three years. I know what I said to you all those years ago, but I was wrong. I will never be able to carve you from my heart. you are embedded too deep.”

Y/N’s breath caught, but before Jamie could regret opening his big mouth Y/N surged forward. He grabbed Jamie’s face, bringing their mouths together. Nothing about the way Y/N was claiming his lips was sweet, it was rough bitten kisses and rough hands grabbing his hair and bringing him closer to him. It was so familiar to the way that Y/N had claimed him all those years ago that Jamie couldn’t do anything but smile and melt into the man as he dragged him toward the bed.

Jamie was hyper-aware of the war looming over them as Y/N undressed him, lips trailing down his body with each new piece of skin that was revealed. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset by the deadline, content to finally take something for himself even if it was just going to be one last time.

#x male reader #x reader #x y/n #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #jamie lannister #jamie lannister x male reader #jamie lannister x reader #jamie lannister x you #jamie lannister x y/n

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jasmines-library · 11 months ago

Note

A request where Batsibling reader is sick and can’t think straight and stuff and only wants Cassandra ? They’re also related to her and her younger sibling? Also younger then Damian

Flu Season

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Of course you can! This is a gn!reader

Warnings: Sickness, Flu

Word Count: 0.7k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

A fit of coughs sounded through the hallway. They had been echoing across the walls for the last few hours as you tossed and turned restlessly throughout the night. No sleep came to you. Your entire body ached, your nose ran and your head pounded as your stomach churned. It was safe to say that you were ill. Something had been going around your class at school. A few people had disappeared with a sniffle for a couple of days before returning right as rain. At first, you thought you had avoided it, but then it came barreling into you with the force of a truck. You had a high fever that caused a sheen of sweat to bead on your brow and your body to shiver.

Alfred had been tending to you. His eyes were tired and weary, but he continued to stay by you nevertheless. But you continued to weep, salty tears inching down your cheeks as you tossed and turned in your haze.

You muttered her name like a mantra on your tongue. Your arm outstretched, you tried to reach blindly for her, wishing for her to just pull you into her arms and hold you close. Even though you and Cass didn’t have a lot when you were growing up, she had always been there for you. Whenever you were sick, or scared, she would scoop you up in her arms and tuck your head under her chin as she cradled you. That continued once Bruce adopted you, and all of the other kids adored seeing the two of you together. But now, when you needed her, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen in the manor. It was her turn on patrol. So when another whisper of her name fell from your chapped lips, Alred tried to shush you with a gentle reassurance.”

“Shh, Mx Cain.” Alfred brushed the hair away from your eyes. “She will be here soon, I promise.”

You whined, curling up into yourself.

As soon as Cassandra’s patrol finished she was rushing back to the manor. Her feet slapped against the road as she made her way quickly to you. Dick had notified her over the comms of your state. She had noticed you sniffling a little recently, but it seemed as if the flu had overtaken you very quickly. She had been told of your restlessness and how you had practically refused help from anyone else, repeating her name. So she moved quickly, racing back towards the manor.

When she barged through the door, Cass had barely shed her suit before she was pattering up the stairs, skipping half of the steps to get there just that little bit faster. Pushing open the heavy door, Cass frowned as soon as she saw you. She immediately noticed the dark bags under your eyes from your lack of sleep and from the hair stuck to your head. She noted the way that you held on tightly to your blanket to try and keep warm despite your body running feverishly.

With a hushed tone, she made her way into the room and crouched down next to your bedside, gripping your hand gently. You twisted your head to look at her, smiling slightly with your glazed over eyes.

“Cass?”

“Hey kiddo.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “You feeling rough?”

You nodded, burying yourself further into the blankets.

With a nod to Alfred, he slipped out of the room and left you with Cass.

“Cassie?” You murmured.

She hummed in response, brushing over your knuckles with the pad of her thumb.

“Lay with me?” You sniffled.

Cassandra nodded. “Of course kiddo.”

Clambering around you, she tucked you close to her chest, placing her head atop of yours. Your body immediately relaxed into hers, feeling much safer now you had your big sister’s arms wrapped around you.

“Try and rest now, kiddo.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you .”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#batfam x reader #Batfamily x reader #batfam x sibling reader #Cassandra cain #Cassandra cain x reader #hurt/comfort #sick #flu #batfam x sick reader

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littlelordfuckler0y · 9 months ago

Text

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader fanfic #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader fluff #instagram au #jacob elordi x reader instagram au #jacob elordi x y/n #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x you

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qwimblenorrisstan · 6 months ago

Text

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

#writers on tumblr #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod fanfic #cod fandom #john price #john soap mactavish #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #soap call of duty

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lovelybunn · 2 years ago

Text

some hugs n cuddles !ㅤ- feat. howdy, barnaby and eddie

warning(s): none.

author's note: y'know i just HAD to feed on the delusional fantasy by writing for the big boy trio... (also this is lowkey established relationship)

🐛 howdy pillar .

Howdy whistles contently to himself while organizing the shelves of his store. His work is cut short by the familiar jingle of the bell at the entrance, alerting him of your presence. “Howdy, neighbor, welcome to my bodega! Anything you need, I got it for ya. How can I be of service?” Howdy greets you with a warm smile as you step inside.

You walk up to the front counter and clear your throat. “I know this is not what you're currently selling, but…” Howdy's big, buggy eyes twinkled, “What is it? I can get it in stock in a jiffy, if you'd like!” You awkwardly press your lips into a thin line and exclaim, “It's not a product.”

“Oh?” He pauses. “Then what is it?” He asks slowly, the gentle baritone of his voice flowing through your eardrums. His eyebrows furrow and antennae shuffle with worry. You snicker and wave your hand dismissively, “Hey, don't give me that look! I wanted a hug!”

The frown on his fluffy face soon molded into a bright smile. "Oh, then why didn't ya just say that, lovebug?" He rushes over from behind the counter and swoops you off your feet. Howdy's lower pair of arms kept you up as he wraps his upper pair around your waist. He gently squeezes you close. "You're the cutest, (Name)!" The two of you giggle, giving sweet butterfly kisses against each other's noses.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

getting cuddles/hugs from this man is absolute heaven for ppl that are chronically touch starved (like me—)

howdy's two pairs of arms will give all the affection anyone would need in their entire life. like boy will have two arms wrapped around your waist, one hand caressing your cheek, and the last one intertwined with your fingers <333

he doesn't wanna bend over, so he'll pick u up alot tho… (he's old and carries boxes all the time, his back don't need all that, alr?)

he's very soft. he has fur/fluff. (yes, i am basing that off of clownsuu's design, and what?)

and i feel like he would just love holding you anyway. ur just so small compared to him and he wants to protect you, y'know?

i personally see howdy being the papa of the neighborhood, taking care of everyone alongside poppy (but he's a lil bit more strict than she is about it lmao)

hear me out on this one guys…. i know that most ppl portray him as this chatterbox, but he knows how and when to listen.

howdy will make sure that u never feel unheard or unloved, the sweet boy will make it his mission to put a smile on that adorable face of urs

🌭 barnaby b beagle .

Barnaby slouches in the bench chair and sighs. He takes a bite out of his hotdog when his eyes trail to a familiar face, walking up to him. "Ah, ey, kiddo. Whatchu want?" He gives you a relaxed smile. "I wanted to ask you for something."

He tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "Hmm? Go on, I got time." You take in a deep breath, "Hey Barnaby, Can you…" You pause as he leans closer to you. "Can you hold me? I've had kinda a rough day, and you're my go-to." He takes the last bite of his hotdog and pats his lap. " 'Course, kid. You can stay as long as you like."

Just as soon as you get his permission, you're sitting with your back towards him, his big paws placed gently across your belly. His plump figure makes it easy for you to practically sink into him like a fresh new couch. He hums a contented tune near your ear; your face warms up into a joyful grin.

Barnaby glances at you, "Ey, kiddo." You hum in response. "Y'know, I think Sally got a little bit of some competition; your smile alone could light up this whole neighborhood." You roll your eyes, a slight snicker escaping from your lips. "You're just saying that to make me feel better." He held you closer, shaking his head. Barnaby's large thumb caresses the palm of your right hand, tracing circles around its surface. "Nah, hon. It's all truth. I mean, ya must be some kinda treat, cuz I always catch myself gawking at the sight of you."

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

boy's soft and plump like a giant life size pillow fr <3333 (human or dog ver, idc)

for dog ver, he loves being scratched behind his big ol ears !!!

gives bear hugs unintentionally

does that circle thing with ur palm

the dog be cooking tho. no, fr, he is the best cook in the neighborhood (and his love language is literally food) so if u need some support, he'll whip it up and serve it to u on a silver platter !!

also puns for days.. he wants to make everyone smile and laugh, u included. barnaby cannot stand a frown on a fellow neighbor's face.

Uncle-That-Smokes-Weedcore ™

he gives the best advice (when he wants to, that is. sometimes he'll say something stupid to see if whoever he gave the advice to will actually do it ;D) why do u think wally tells the man everything?

💌 eddie dear .

Eddie quickly walks to the door of his post office, filled with gratitude for another great hard day's work. As soon as he walks through the door, you rush over to give him a tender embrace. He chuckles, “Hey there, darlin'! Did my babydoll miss me?” With your face buried in his chest, you muffle out a "Mhm." Eddie's face beams, patting your back. "Well, I missed you too, honey." He places three soft kisses on you, one on your forehead, and the other two on either cheek.

Eddie tries to move forward, but you don't budge. Your arms are glued tight to him. "Uh, darlin'...? I– I gotta get unready, y'know? Please let go of me." He chuckles nervously. He tries to sneakily pull your arms away, but you speak before he's given the chance. "You've been gone all day, dear. Can't I hug you a little while longer?" You look up at him. The pleading look in your eyes melts the poor mailman's heart within seconds. "Alright, alright, fine! But just for a few minutes. I'd like to change into less sweaty clothes at some point."

The two of you just relax there for a moment, limbs wrapped delicately around each other. Absent-mindedly, Eddie guides you into somewhat of a slow dance, and your bodies sway back and forth as you and Eddie sink deeper into one and other's touch. After about a minute, he kisses your forehead again, then pulls away. "You satisfied, love?" You smile and nod slowly, "Yes, very."

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

smooches for dayssss

most days this golden retriever man will lift u up, spin u around and DROWN U in kisses, but (obv) on busier days, hes a lot more relaxed about it

his love language is words of affirmation (so lots of pet names if u couldn't tell)

hand-holding at all times (when given opportunity)

EDDIE DEAR IS A POET. BOY WRITES U LOVE LETTERS EVERY OTHER DAY, ALL OF WHICH IS HANDMADE, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE ENVELOPE.

is it weird that i see eddie and frank as my gay parents? (yeah we ARE the two gay married men w/ their autistic child trope.)

eddie would be that crazy country dad who would with zero hesitation pull a gun on someone hurting his baby

but fr, if u were feeling sad boy would pull out the arts and crafts and go bonkers with it. like "awh, yer sad??? let's make origami butterflies to make u feel better c:"

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you #welcome home howdy #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #welcome home barnaby #barnaby b beagle #barnaby b beagle x reader #welcome home eddie #eddie dear #eddie dear x reader #welcome home imagines #welcome home headcanons #for people who are inlove w puppets #no judgement #imagines #headcanons

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cailinsblog · 3 months ago

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Can you please write more Husband Nathan Mackinnon, please? I love the first one ! 😍

Omg yesss😻😻 I love people that give me requests and I love Nathan Mackinnon thank you for the request much appreciated💕💕💕

Golfing with the Mackinnons-Nathan Mackinnon

Nathan Mackinnon x reader

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in Denver, and Nathan MacKinnon was excited for a rare day off. The Colorado Avalanche had just wrapped up a string of games, and he was looking forward to spending the day with his wife, Y/N. She had suggested a round of golf, and Nathan—though not much of a golfer—had agreed enthusiastically, more for the chance to spend quality time with her than for the sport itself.

Y/N, on the other hand, had grown up playing golf and was a natural on the green. She was looking forward to showing Nathan a thing or two about the game. Of course, the couple had been married for a couple of years, and they both loved teasing each other, especially on days like this. They had planned to keep the mood light and fun, no matter how competitive Nathan might get.

As they arrived at the golf course, Nathan couldn’t help but look over at Y/N, his heart skipping a beat. She looked absolutely stunning in a simple yet stylish white skirt that flowed gracefully as she walked, paired with a fitted polo that showed off her athletic build. Her golf shoes clicked on the pavement as she made her way to the course, and Nathan couldn't help but feel a little bit proud—his beautiful wife was about to show him up on the golf course. He adjusted his cap, making sure his own attire was just as on point. He’d donned the classic golfer look: a collared shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers.

As they approached the first hole, they both grabbed their golf bags, which were marked with “MacKinnon” on the sides in bold letters—each of them with their personalized clubs. Y/N looked at Nathan with a playful smile as she swung her bag over her shoulder. “Ready to lose, MacKinnon?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Nathan smirked, holding up his own bag confidently. “We’ll see who’s really losing by the end of the day,” he replied. “Don’t forget, I’m competitive.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/N said with a wink, “but I’ve got years of experience on you.”

They both chuckled as they made their way to the first tee. Nathan went first, setting up his shot with precision, but it wasn’t as clean as he hoped—his ball veered slightly to the left and ended up in the rough. Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest with a grin.

“Not your best shot, Mr. MacKinnon,” she teased.

Nathan shot her a look, clearly not pleased with the result, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, it’s only the first hole,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mrs. MacKinnon.”

Y/N set up for her shot with a perfect stance, her form graceful and poised. With one smooth swing, the ball sailed down the fairway, landing right in the middle. Nathan stood there, pretending to be unimpressed, but his grin betrayed him. “Nice shot,” he admitted. “But don’t get too cocky.”

She laughed, turning back to him with a wink. “It’s just the beginning, Nate.”

They spent the next few holes teasing each other as they went. Nathan would challenge Y/N to a bet on who could drive further, and when she inevitably won, he would grumble good-naturedly. Y/N, for her part, had a knack for playful banter, always throwing in a compliment to keep things light, though she’d sneak in a comment here and there about how Nathan's competitive side was starting to show.

But it wasn’t just the golfing that made the day special—it was the moments between shots, the small laughs and the little jabs they exchanged. The couple had always enjoyed their time together, and days like these reminded them why they loved each other so much.

As they reached the golf cart after a few holes, they both paused for a moment, eyeing each other. They both knew what was coming—the battle for who would drive the cart.

“Alright, it’s my turn to drive,” Y/N said, already reaching for the keys.

Nathan quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path with a grin. “Oh no, no, no. I’m driving this cart, Y/N. You’ve had enough driving for the day.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with Nathan’s claim. “You know I’m a better driver than you.”

“That’s debatable,” Nathan said, crossing his arms and leaning against the cart. “Besides, I’ll drive. You can just enjoy the ride.”

Y/N smirked, pretending to be offended. “Oh, really? Because I seem to remember you almost crashing the cart last time we went out.”

Nathan chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “That was one time! And I was distracted by your terrible golfing skills.”

Y/N laughed, pushing past him to open the golf cart door. “That’s funny, because I think you’re just trying to avoid losing the battle of the drivers, Mr. MacKinnon.”

“You’re on,” Nathan said, finally stepping aside, a playful grin on his face. “But only because you’ve got me in this competition.”

She settled into the driver’s seat with a proud look, starting the engine. “Thank you, kind sir,” Y/N said, giving him an exaggerated curtsy as she grabbed the steering wheel. “Now let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Nathan jumped into the passenger seat, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you,” he teased as they started rolling down the path.

“I know,” Y/N said with a smile, glancing over at him. “You’re a lucky guy.”

The golf cart ride was full of laughter and playful teasing as they made their way to the next hole. Nathan pretended to complain about Y/N’s “reckless” driving, but the truth was, he loved every second of it. They argued over the silliest things—who hit the better shot, who was the better driver, who had the better golfing outfit—but deep down, it was just an excuse to spend time together and enjoy the little moments.

By the end of the round, Nathan had definitely won the majority of holes, but Y/N had kept him on his toes, challenging him at every turn. As they wrapped up their last hole, they made their way back to the clubhouse, both of them feeling a little bit more relaxed than when they’d started.

“You know,” Nathan said, his arm around Y/N as they walked toward the exit, “you might’ve lost today... but I’d still say you’re the better golfer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him with her elbow. “I don’t know about that. I think I just let you win.”

“Sure, sure,” Nathan said, his grin widening. “I’ll let you think that.”

They walked hand-in-hand back to the car, both of them feeling happy, content, and already planning their next round of golf together.

“Next time, I’m definitely driving the cart,” Y/N said as they got in.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you,” Nathan teased back, chuckling as he started the engine. “But only because you’re my wife.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as they drove off. “Best day ever.”

And for Nathan, it certainly was. No matter how competitive the game, he knew that the best part was simply being with Y/N.

#hockey #nhl #nhl x reader #fanfic #nathan mackinnon #national hockey league #nathan mackinnon x reader #colorado #colorado avalanche #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction

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xreaderanonaccount · 1 year ago

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yandere webttore x fem reader smut pls? I wont him....... so badly....

Synopsis: You were just a simple baker in Snezhnaya that was being harassed by a local gang. Lucky for you one of your regulars just so happens to be the 2nd Harbinger of the Fatui. All he wants in return is a favor.

Webttore is a segment of actual Dottore, Reader is wearing a dress,

Tags: NSFW MINORS DNI, DUB-CON, AFAB Reader, slight Stockholm Syndrome, P with plot, Yandere, human body parts, grinding, fingering, orgasm denial, rough s*x, Not Beta read

A/N: Inspired by that one Mafia!Bucky x Reader series here on tumblr. I can't find it and i'm sad cause i really liked reading it. This is also my first time writing a Yandere character so I hope I did a good enough job

Words: 3.5K

There’s a small bakery in a quiet street on the outskirts of the Capital of Snezhnaya. Many of the Fatui Skirmishers come to visit before heading out. They claim it’s good luck. You are always happy to do business with the Fatui, as that rakes in revenue for you. But recently you were having a slight problem. A local gang has been trying to pry money out of you, “for protection” they claim, but you do know that it's bogus. You tried to tell them no but they seem to not take that answer well. They come in almost everyday to harass you about it. At this point it’s part of your routine. You wake up, get the bakery ready, and get harassed by the gang. They normally harass you about money, always coming in disrupting business or graffiti rude and cruel messages on your windows. But you never gave in, you just sighed and fixed everything. There’s no need to cry over spilt milk, that’s what your mother would always tell you. It was one of those days where you were being harassed again by this local gang.

“Just give us the money, then your debt will be paid.” One of the gang members spatted, his temper clearly waning by the minute.

“Why would I? And what debt would I incur during this time period?” You questioned, cleaning a glass cup. You were not amused by this, it’s the third time this week and you are quite getting used to your new routine.

“For protection obviously!” Another one spat slamming his fist on your counter. You rolled your eyes at their foolish behavior.

“Oh, protection? But I do believe that the Fatui Harbingers and their men have it all covered. No?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. The gang member stuttered for a bit before another one, a much bigger one, slammed his gun on your counter.

“Listen here, you’re going to give us the money or else-”

“Or else what?” A new voice spoke up, one that you’re not familiar with. Looking over you spot a tall man with icy blue hair sitting idly in the booths stacks of paper scattered around the table.

“And who are you?” One of the members asked, storming up to the man. You quickly walked around the bar putting you between the gang and the icy haired man.

“Leave him out of this. You can threaten me all you want but the minute you threaten a customer it’s over.” You glared at them, but a small chuckle was heard behind you. You heard some shuffling before you felt a presence behind you. You looked up seeing the icy blue hair man behind you.

“See, I really like this place. It gives me time to get away from them and now… it’s ruined. By you lot.” His tone was cold as he slowly approached the gang. But they didn’t move.

“Oh yeah, and who are you, a high ranking Fatui Harbinger?” One asked, pointing a gun right to his face. You couldn’t see what the strange man did next as he gestured to something on him. But whatever it was it clearly scared the gang away. Their faces were pale as they exited the store. One muttered that they’ll be back, but the other didn’t say anything. Now it was just the two of you.

“Ha, sorry for dragging you into this mess.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. The man gave out a chaotic cackle before whipping around to see you. You finally get a good view of him. He had striking red eyes, the already described icy blue hair, and his outfit was strange. A white dress shirt with an overexaggerated collar, paired with a black vest. Strange clothing for the middle of winter in Snezhnaya. Let’s not mention the blue earring he wore that has some sort of liquid in it.

“Hmm,” The man hummed as he circled around you like a predator eyeing their prey. He stopped right behind you, you felt his hands run through your hair playing with it a bit.

“You have nice hair, and very healthy organs.” He chuckled a bit.

“Thanks?” you tried to smile, but this is totally weird. Was he trying to compliment you, or something? You gave a weary look as you watched him slide back into his booth and continue looking around his stack of paper. You sighed as you walked around the counter, you have to repay him with something right? An idea popped in your head as you smiled to yourself. As you prepare your little surprise for the stranger, everytime you glance in his direction he always seems to be looking at you at the same time. Strange, but this man is already strange already.

After a couple of minutes you approached the strange man again. As you approached him, he seemed to sense your presence and watched you set a plate down.

“This… is a little thanks for helping me with those nut jobs.” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze. But he didn’t say a word as he took a bite out of the warm pastry.

“Thanks.” He said muffled by the pastry that was in his mouth.

“No, thank you.” You smile as you walk away, going back to cleaning the mess the gang left behind. It seems that you have a new routine, you wake up, get the bakery ready, get harassed again, but now you have your new regular. The strange ice blue haired man comes in everyday it seems to work? You don’t really know, you never really pry into it. He always comes in and gets the same thing. A pure black iced coffee with a nice warm pastry. You're always confused when he asks for ice coffee as it’s Snezhnaya, the temperatures are always in the negatives. But he seems to enjoy his order. You can’t complain, he seems to help out when the gang comes in to harass you.

But for the past few weeks he hasn’t shown up.You were concerned and asked around but no one seemed to know what or who you were talking about. But something strange started to happen. Dead bodies have started showing up around your bakery. Either in your front door, in your alley way, or in the back door, wherever there is a spot a body was found. And every single time the body belonged to the gang that was harassing you. And every single time there was a message written in their blood confessing their crimes of harassing you. You were freaked out about it, thinking there was a serial killer on the loose and you reported it to the nearest Fatui station. The Fatui seemed to care for about a week but then stopped. They dropped the case saying that the 2nd Fatui Harbinger Il Dottore dropped the case. Which is strange because Lord Pucinella is in charge of the capital’s police so why is the Doctor dropping the case? You were lowkey freaked out about everything, but everytime you were scared to leave the strange man always seemed to appear. Always willing to walk you home, and if anytime you ask about his whereabouts he would just dismiss the question. Although a little freak out you didn’t question why he was here. It was nice to have someone watching over you especially when it seems that someone is clearly doing a revenge for you.

On one fateful night, a quiet night you were alone in your bakery cleaning some dishes when you heard a high pitch scream. Your head shot up as you gently placed down the cup. The screams died out, and the silence after was deafening. Did you just hear the last moments of someone's life? You hesitated to leave the backroom before you heard a little ding, it rang around the quiet bakery, you were frozen not knowing what to do.

“Darling are you there?” A familiar voice spoke up, it was that man. You quickly walked out of the room already babbling about what just happened. But you were stopped in your tracks, your eyes went wide, and face went pale. There he stood covered in blood, his face like a maniac as he held a little box with a pretty bow on top.

“W-what happened to you?” You stuttered as you slowly approached the man who gave a crazed smile holding out a box.

“I got you a present.” Completely ignoring the question he set the present in your hands. The blood smeared all over your hand.

“What is it?” You hesitatingly asked.

“Open it,”

You slowly pulled the little ribbon on the top, the ribbon fell gracefully on your blood stained hands. Slowly taking the top off you only caught a glimpse of the inside before dropping it. Falling out of the gift box was a human heart, the blood oozing out of the heart pooling on your recently cleaned floor. You scrambled back, your back hitting against the wall harshly.

“W-what is this?” You exclaimed looking over at him, all he had was a small smile as he walked around the counter getting closer to you.

“A profession of my love, darling.” His small smile turned into a smile.You were still scrambling away to the back room.

“With a human heart! What is wrong with you?” You yelled, all he did was start to laugh, a laugh that soon turned into a cackle.

“What is wrong with me? With me? Oh darling, everything.” He made eye contact with you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he continued his approach.

“Those little gang members won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered as he encaptured you between his arms against the wall. Inches away from his face as he gave a manic smile.

“You did this, killed all those gang members?” Your voice wobbled as you tried to grasp the situation.

“Oh yes, I did, made sure they won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered, his face inches away from you. You were shaking uncontrollably, you didn’t know how to react.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whispered your voice quivering with every word. The man just cackled as he rested his head against your shoulder.

“Hurt you… haha… I can never hurt. Not you, never.”

“I… don’t even know your name.” He stared straight into your eyes, his ruby red ones shining in the light, piercing through yours.

“I go by many names, but I prefer you call me Zandik.” Zandik reached out to your face, creasing it, the smell of metal filled your senses as he spread the blood all across your face. He leaned in his lips inches away from yours, you can feel his breath against your face.

“I would kill the whole world for you, I want you so badly. Please…” He pleaded, resting his forehead against yours.

“I…I…”

“Please…” You looked away for a second before Zandik let out a sound of frustration before slamming his lips against yours. It was rough, he had your arms pinned, you can’t move an inch. When he pulled away he smiled as he stroked your cheek. You’re pretty sure that the majority of your face is covered in blood.

“I want you.” He murmured against your skin as his hands trailed back untying your apron.

“Do you want me?” He asked looking straight into your eyes, you just nodded. He started to laugh, the mood completely shifting for both of you. For him he was ecstatic, but for you… you have no idea. You were scared, afraid, but also calm? Like sure this Zandik man killed a bunch of men, but he did it in your honor. He has no ill intention on harming you, and he is clearly doing it out of love. But do you love him? All these thoughts stirred in your head as you felt Zandik’s hands trailed down your dress till it was underneath the frills.

“Haa, do that again? Make that sound again, you sound so cute.” He breathed as he started to hike up your dress. The dress crumpled up to your waist as you obliged his request by whimpering again as you felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya brush against your legs. Zandik pulled back admiring how you looked. He chuckled as he leaned in towards your ear.

“You look beautiful with all this blood. So beautiful…” He whispered as he worked his way towards your panties. But was stopped your sudden grip on his wrist. He looked shocked at your audacity to stop his advancement.

“C-could you at least wash the blood off your hands.” You mumbled as you looked away, “I don’t really want someone’s blood inside me.” It clicked in Zandik’s head and he rushed over to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean of all the blood. You stood there in shock on what’s happening. Everything is settling on you like a ton of bricks. This man who you're about to have sex with just killed a bunch of people these past months, and just professes his love to you with a human heart. How… strange. You listened to him mutter to himself something about, “not wanting other guys dna inside you.” that “you belong to him and him alone.” or “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.” You weren’t going to lie, it was lowkey hot to see him like this. He patted his hands down on his pants before latching himself back onto you. His lips were back onto yours devouring you lips like there was no tomorrow. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips as he started to slowly grind against you. You could feel how hard he was against your cloth vagina.

“I can’t help myself dear, you are so perfect.” He murmured against your skin, you felt his gloved hands trail down playing with the edge of your underwear. You felt him smile against your skin as he pulled your underwear to the side and plunge two fingers into your soaking wet clit. You heard him groan as he worked your way through your vagina.

“You’re already so wet for me dear. So perfect, taking in my fingers like this.” He moaned as he fastened his pace. The moans couldn’t stop as you closed your eyes. The feeling was so overwhelming, the foreign feeling of his leather gloves pistoning in and out of you felt strange yet pleasurable. Zandik was biting against your skin, his shark-like teeth biting down on your exposed neck, you felt your blood trickle down your neck. His pace fastened with each thrust, you couldn’t hold back your moans. Whimpering his name every now and then, which seemed to get a reaction out of him.

“Ha, I’m close.” You breathed out, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. But the minute you said that you felt Zandik’s fingers ripping out of your inside. You whined at the sudden loss of his fingers.

“I know darling, but I promise you. I’ll make you feel so so much better. I swear.” He cackled as he fiddled with his pants. You intently watched as he pulled his now hard cock out. He slapped it against your clit, earning a moan. You eyed at the sheer size of his cock. It was huge. You don’t think it would fit inside you.

“It’s not going to fit.” You exclaimed, panicking looking up to Zandik’s glaring red eyes.

“Too big? Haha, don’t worry darling, I’ll make it fit.” Zandik smiled as he lined up his cock with your vagina.

“It’s not going to fit-” You were cut off as Zandik shoved his girthy cock all the way in one go. You yelled in pain and pleasure by the stretch. You tried to tell him to slow down but your cries fell on deaf ears as Zandik set a rough pace. He seemed to lose his own pleasure to listen to your pleas. You felt tears start to flow down your cheeks by the stretch of Zandik’s dick. Zandik started to laugh like a mad man looking down on you, his eyes wide like a crazed man.

“You look so beautiful like this darling, so beautiful when you cry.” He laughed, slamming his lips against yours, kissing your pain away.

“Please, I want to cum.” You cried pulling away from him, the pain turning into pleasure as Zandik continued his rough pace.

“Ha, so obedient, so perfect. You were made for me,” He moaned as he gently cupped your face.

“Look at you, you were worried about my dick fitting yet look,” He tilted your head to see his dick disappear inside your vagina with each rough thrust, “your pussy was made for me, molded just me, and me only.” Your walls flutter against his dick with his words, which causes Zandik to groan.

“And now, you’re sucking me in with every thrust. Greedy greedy girl.” He chuckled as he captured your lips again. When he pulled away, a thin string of spit kept you connected.

“I’ve been aching for you for weeks now,” He started his confession, “every night, I would imagine how perfect you would be around my cock. And-ha, just look. It’s perfect, you're perfect, just for me. You’re mine, got it?” His words fell out of his mouth in pure pleasure as he started to draw dizzy circles around your clit. That sent your nerves into overdrive, moans kept falling out of your mouth. Your senses were sent into overdrive, every touch from Zandik made you clamp down around his dick. You couldn’t help it, the pure bliss that you were feeling was out of this world.

“C-close.” You were able to get out, Zandik just chuckled before quickening his already fast pace.

“Gods please, I want your vagina to suck me dry. Please, let me cum inside you.” Zandik moaned, “I want you to bear my children. Gods please.” All you could do is nod as you felt that coil tighten again in your stomach.

“Please Zandik, I want to cum.” You moaned, the mere mention of his name made him go into overdrive. Circling his fingers around your clit faster, and faster. Every sense went into overdrive and you couldn’t hold it in longer. Clamping down on his cock you shook violently as you screamed out of his name. Zandik continue his rough pace fucking you through your high.When you came down from your high, you felt Zandik pull out of your overstimulated hole. You whine from the empty feeling, as Zandik let you fall to your knees, exhausted from everything. But Zandik wasn’t done, he stroked his dick faster and faster aiming it straight to your face. He cupped your chin making you look up at him with your fucked out face.

“So beautiful, so perfect. Just for me, tell me you want me.” Zandik breathed, he continued to stroke his dick before you stop his action. Confused, he watched as you replaced his hands with yours as you started to stroke him from base to tip. Zandik eyes blown wide from your actions he couldn’t help but start to thrust into your hands.

“I’m yours.” You muttered as you gave kitten licks on his tips. Zandik groaned as his dick twitched in your hands. The white warm semen painted your face, he had so much cum in him that by the time he finished you are probably sure your face is covered full of cum and blood. Zandik was breathing heavily as he gave a cackle. He smeared the cum and blood across your face, giving a small smile.

“You look so beautiful with my cum painted all over your face.” You didn’t respond, only your heavy breathing was heard in the quiet bakery. You two stood in silence before Zandik noticed something outside the bakery, stuff his cock back into his slacks.

“Stay down there darling.” He smiled before turning towards the bakery door. You didn’t peak up but you heard the bakery bell ring indicating someone walked inside.

“Lord Dottore! We’ve been looking all over for you.” Someone said, Lord Dottore? You mean the 2nd Fatui Harbinger? You looked up at “Zandik” who was annoyed by the disruption.

“What is it?” He sounded annoyed.

“We’ve located the gang that was harassing the bakery owner.” One of them stated, you watched as “Zandik” snatched the paper out of the person's hands.

“Very well, get to it then. I want any survivors sent to the lab. Have Prime deal with it.” He sounded a mix of boredom and anger as he dismissed the people who entered the bakery.

“Yes lord Harbinger.” They both said, before you hear them walking out of the bakery. Zandik turned back to you, giving you a wicked smile.

“Y-you’re the 2nd harbinger?” You whispered trying to scoot away.

“Oh are you scared now that you know my identity? Aw, you hurt me dear.” “Zandik” smiled, kneeling down to your level. He reached out for you stroking the cum and blood across your face.

“I promise you no one will hurt you again right?” You nodded at his statement, “Good. Now that I marked you I will always protect you… from anyone.”

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #genshin smut #dottore x female reader #genshin x reader smut #il dottore #webttore #webttore x reader

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