#he smells like tobacco. tastes like it too

[columboscreens]

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[reshinless]

(dom) stoner!kinich high sex pretty pls.... ‼️😣

i dont know what being high is like so pls forgive me if this doesn't make sense :3 fair warning this is kind of over 1k words (I think) +mostly smut

dacryphilia if you kind of squint, gn!afab!reader (no specified prns)

kinich often got high, and always offered you some. but obviously you never obliged, wanting to stay clean for the rest of your life.

you were there every time he did something, anything related to it—and you've always said to stop, yet he simply nods and continues doing it anyway.

he says it's for relief, and other times he says it's for fun.

but one night you get a little curious.

"kin'." you poke at him as he hangs his head back, manspreading into the chair, brushing excess dust away from his nose.

"mmm?" oh he was definitely into it. clear in his voice—a much more different tone was laced, yet he was still coherent, and able to reply. he wasn't the type to take too much of it anyway.

he took a drag from the white powder-like substance on the table- it was cocaine, as well as a quick puff from his cigarette, watching as he let out the huff of smoke away from you. he knows you don't really like it, which is why he was stunned at your sudden question.

"can.. can i try?" your voice was light, with a sense of curiosity. "oh, pretty, you know that curiosity killed the kitty right?" he let out a deep chuckle, you could hear the smokiness in the rasp of his voice. he had offered you a few times before, but seeing your clear distaste for such matters, he didn't try to push it any further.

"please? just once." he let out a laugh at your silly little pleading. "you sure, kitty? this seems to be a bit strong for people who are new to it." "just lemme try some!"

he reluctantly lets you near him, letting you sit near him so he can briefly put it into your mouth. at first, you sneeze at the sudden smell of tobacco. kinich can't help but let out a raspy chuckle at your cute reaction. "too strong?" "no, I'll... I'll take it!"

as you take in your first puff, it definitely felt a lot different than what you imagined. your emotions felt so... enhanced. emphasizing specifically lust, is it possible to lace a cigarette with an aphrodisiac?

well, whatever was inside it got his head buried between your thighs, while your fingers threaded, and grasped at his hair. your drunken little moans definitely only got him more pussy drunk, and drowsy. he couldn't tell if it was the tobacco smell in the air that influenced his taste, or if your essence just tasted that good.

whatever that cigarette was, it definitely enhanced whatever he felt, as well as yours. you could feel his determination to suck you dry with the way his tongue glided over every sport, fuck he hit everything alright...

he held your hips close, not letting you go just yet, no he had to get every little crevice, every little drop he could. he didn't know what the hell was he tasting but archons was it close to celestia. whatever that was.

you couldn't help but spew out pathetic mewls, it was your own fault you took the silly little dust into your system. even as you came right onto his face, you still wanted more.

fuck, squirting into your best friend's mouth like this, it was unethical! so dirty, and naughty, why were you still entertaining these stupid fantasies you had, finally letting these dreams come true.

before you knew it, he was already flipping you onto your back to fuck your tight entrance into oblivion!! he circled his finger around the very rim of your entrance, aching- almost asking for more.

it throbbed harder as you felt him enter with one digit. clenching harshly onto kinich's fingers, he let out a groan. "s'tight... and it's just my fingers..." your back instinctively arched against them, how he was obviously curving the tips of his fingers into that one spot you loved so much.

before you knew it- you were already creaming onto his very palm. the overstimulating feeling from just reaching your peak about five-ish minutes ago by his talented tongue, and now by just as talented fingers.

gosh it's always him and his heightened senses that mixed well with his excitement. his hurriedness almost shocked you frozen—yet your eyes continuously rolled to the very back of your pretty little head, his digits only fastened the pace.

his tongue licked a long stripe all over your nape as a way to tease you, as you slowly calmed down from the exhilarating feeling you had just experienced—but he didn't want you to rest just yet.

his hand leaves the ripe, soft hole. looking back up at him as if to ask for more, and oh would you be getting more.

as if dragging your hips to attach to his, he believed your legs weren't spread far enough; lifting up one of your soft legs onto his shoulder for support.

you were almost already accustomed to his wildness and let your arms go numb beside your head, as his slowly started to enter inside.

you didn't know what to do- but it felt like you had to hold onto something—now wildly grasping onto the sheets below you as your head buried further into the mattress. fuck you felt like you were being split apart right then and there!

"ahhh- kin'- fffuck it hurts..." with you eyebrows knit and a loud wail comes from your throat, he leans down to whisper how he knows that you can take it.

"c'mon I promise it'll feel good once I'm in, pretty..." each word he said, an inch entered inside you—fffuck he loved how you stretched over him so well.

"damn, you're so tight baby- ahh sssshitt..." he stops midway just to admire the little tears that trickled in the edges of your eyelids, and how your hands flailed everywhere, you yourself didn't even know where to place your fingertips on, his neck or the bed itself.

his loud groan didn't help as he pushed the last few inches into, making you shudder- your back ached as it arched once more. almost screaming his name, and lands one of his hands onto your mouth—a finger over your mouth.

"you remember we have guests over, yeah? not too loud now, baby." cold fingertips wipe your tears away, a smirk grows on his expression.

working himself in and out of your hole with a calm pace, knowing that you weren't too used to him—not to mention his size. your little mewls, shit are you begging him to rearrange your insides right now?

he admits that he had fantasized this before, and for as much as he wasn't a virgin while doing this with you right now—he can admit all the girls he fucked he only thought about you the whole time.

and not to mention how turned on he was right now- the mix of getting to fuck you and the drug he took, actually no aside the actual drug, fucking you was the drug.

he'd overdose on it if he could. if he always got to see how you would furrow your brows, your cute little eyes roll to the very rear of your head, and getting to feel your soft skin on his.

the sound of skin slapping against each other was loud, and vulgar, and probably enough to get the attention of your guests outside. even so, you still attempted to hide your wails of pleasure.

before you realize it- you've came onto him for the third time this night, as he finishes inside you as well. squirting everywhere— some of it getting onto his chest, and a bit on his face. his own head throwing back in pleasure, barely holding in his own noises, attaching your hips to his for a bit.

"f- fffuck... never seen anyone squirt like that before. y'wanna do it again?"

[frudoo]

Trapped in the forest with a feral John Price could be hot 🔥

WOOF bestie you are so right 😩

Warnings: Non-con to dub-con, John Price is stupidly big. Fem!Reader.

“I know you’re out there, birdie.”

God, you hate his taunting voice, the lilt that makes it sound like he’s singing to you. You hate your friends for abandoning you in this creepy fucking forest, you hate the way every dead leaf manages to crunch beneath your feet no matter how quiet you try to be. You’ve been sneaking away from the giant man for what feels like hours but his voice never gets further away, always right on the brink of being too damn close.

“Nothin’ to be afraid of, girlie, jus’ wanna take care o’ya.”

His call is loud, somewhere behind you, before you hear a thud and then silence follows. You stop dead in your tracks—did he fall down and knock himself out? Maybe you ought to check, make sure he’s really down and no longer on your trail. Slowly, you turn around and take a few steps where you remember the thud to have sounded, but there’s no body slumped over itself. At least, nothing human.

You gasp at the sight of a whimpering dog with an injured paw, instantly kneeling down to try and help the poor pup. You hold her paw in your hand to examine it but there’s nothing wrong, no thorns or cuts in her pads. You furrow your eyebrows and pet behind her ears, cooing softly to her.

“What’s wrong, baby? Where’s your-”

Your sentence is interrupted by strong arms lifting your body up, one hand covering your mouth. You shriek, clawing at the man’s hairy arms as you try to kick free from his hold. It’s useless—he’s so much stronger than you, and the pain you’re inflicting doesn’t even register in his brain.

He knows what he wants, and he’s going to have it.

The ‘injured’ dog stands from her place on the ground and sprints away at the man’s command, full weight on her paw. Your stomach flips at the realization. He used his dog as a trap.

“P-please don’t hurt me! I’ll do- I’ll do anything, please!” You sputter, fat tears streaming down your face as the man lays you on the ground.

“Not gonna hurt ya. No, could never hurt my pretty girl, never,” the man murmurs, and despite the fact that he’s currently binding your wrists to the tree behind you with his belt, his words are gentle and seemingly sincere.

Once your hands are secure, he leans down to kiss you, frowning when you flinch and turn away before his lips are able to meet yours. He grunts and tries again, but when you repeat the action he cups your jaw in one large hand, keeping you still and finally pressing his mouth to yours. He tastes like tobacco and smells of it too, earthy and dewy much like the grass he’s trapped you against.

“Atta girl, jus’ submit t’me.”

There’s a wide smile on his face when he pulls back, thumbing away a string of saliva that remains on your bottom lip. Then his hands trail down your body, ripping open your tank top and pulling your tits out from the cups of your bra. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your traitorous throat when he wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks, pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“N-no, please…��� you cry, trying to kick him away, but he just growls and suckles harder in response.

Damn your body for not fighting him harder, and damn your pussy for getting so wet from this. His hot tongue trails down your stomach while his large hands expertly undo your pants and pull them as well as your knickers off of you completely. He even tosses your shoes and socks aside, kissing his way from your toes all the way to your inner thighs, then planting his lips right over your clit. He groans against your cunt and you can see the way his hips buck against the ground as he tastes you.

In a similar fashion to the way he’d sucked your nipple, he does the same to your swollen bud, circling his tongue over it repeatedly. You’re gushing out abundances of your arousal much to your dismay—and his delight—and he dips his tongue into your entrance to drink it all up. You hate how good it feels, how tight the coil in your belly has gotten, how close you are to the edge. He slides his tongue through your folds and sucks on your clit once more and then you’re screaming, trying to fight off the euphoric waves as they overtake you.

The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he slurps up all of your juices. As quickly as he’d started, he pulls away, and those dexterous hands shove down his pants to allow his stupidly fat cock to bounce out. It’s obviously heavy, fully erect and yet still drooping away from his soft stomach, curved and slick with precum. You whimper at the sight, shaking your head as more pleas escape you.

“No! No, please don’t, sir, please… I’ll do anything…” You sob, legs still trying to kick at him even as he parts your thighs and settles himself between them.

“You’ll take my cock,” he responds gruffly, a low moan leaving his throat when he shoves the tip past the barrier of your pussy.

The stretch burns like hell and you scream at the intrusion, wrists desperately trying to tug free from their restraints so you can shove him off. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway, not with his strength and the determination he has to claim you. With a grunt and a hard thrust, he sinks all the way inside, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before he’s rutting into you wildly.

“Ah, so fuckin’ tight. Knew ya would be. Knew ya’d fit me so fuckin’ well.”

Cold sweat trickles down his freckled face and drips onto your cheeks, making you flinch every time you feel a drop make contact. His dick is stuffing you so fucking full, and all you can do is lay there and take it. The initial pain is gone and in its place is a revolting pleasure, one that makes you roll your hips against his. The man smiles proudly, using the backs of your knees to push your legs up to your chest.

“Yeah, feels good, don’t it, girlie? Can feel your cunt clenchin’ ‘round me. Fuckin’ cum on my cock. Do it. Give it t’me.”

His pace quickens tenfold, making your vision go white as his fat tip bullies your g-spot with every thrust. Your entire body convulses when you climax but he doesn’t relent, fucking you through your high and overstimulating you in the process. It doesn’t matter to the man mounting you, his eyes so far back in his skull you’re not sure they’ll ever return to their normal position. An animalistic growl escapes his throat and then you feel ribbons of hot cum spurting inside of you, filling you to the brim.

You hate the way his cum leaks out of you when he pulls out, spilling to the ground and wasting all of his hard work. After he tucks his dick away and gives you a passionate, tender kiss, he releases you from the restraints and scoops you up into his big burly arms, carrying you back to his little shack where his actor of a pup is waiting for him with a wagging tail.

Maybe the forest isn’t so bad, after all.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Alastor x FReader.

CW: angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), ropes, bondage, punishment, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, edging overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).

(+ aftercare for 'reader').

Word Count: 9240.

Forever Bound.

The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.

All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.

You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.

Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.

It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.

As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.

Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.

Your soul attention.

Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.

“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.

Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.

You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.

“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.

You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’. However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.

“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin freezes, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind, he almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.

You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.

You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... if not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer might take it upon himself to eject you... right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.

With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating, “that would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand, you are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.

“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.

To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.

You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.

Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him, paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.

You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.

His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.

“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more. If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.

You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.

“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”

You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it, the sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status, choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.

He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.

Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in there, and just how vast it might be... is it some sort of pocket dimension...

He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again, the warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.

“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again, feeling annoyed at your reaction, but he doesn’t let it show.

You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.

So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.

It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.

Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.

You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.

Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.

You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.

As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.

“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.

Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.

You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.

“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”

“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.

“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”

“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone, he hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.

Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.

Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.

Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”

“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.

Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.

“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”

You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.

“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.

“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.

You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.

However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.

“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.

His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.

“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.

Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.

“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”

He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.

You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.

You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.

Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.

You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”

You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.

He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.

Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.

He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.

He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.

His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.

Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.

Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.

He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.

Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.

His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.

Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.

He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.

His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”

You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you can’t comprehend what he’s talking about.

You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.

“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.

“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”

You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.

“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”

“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.

“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”

“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.

Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.

The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.

He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.

“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment.”

You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?

You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.

“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”

You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.

“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.

“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.

He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.

Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.

He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.

“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.

You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.

He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.

He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even begin unravelling what it signifies.

An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.

“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.

You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”

“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.

“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.

You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.

In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master.”

The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.

SMACK, you cry out in pain as the next strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”

The next he has mercy from you enduring and obeying on the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you Master.”

You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.

You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.

This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.

Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.

“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more, then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”

Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable precipice, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.

You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.

“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.

Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.

Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.

“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.

The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.

“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.

The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.

The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.

He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your arse at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.

“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again.

He sounded utterly euphoric, and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.

Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.

You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me my pretty Doe, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding is the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”

“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.

He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.

You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.

“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.

“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.

“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.

“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.

Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.

You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state of overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly insensible from his continued assault on your senses.

“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.

“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”

You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.

Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.

“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.

“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.

One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down onto you.

“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.

Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.

Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.

The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.

He groans in pleasure at your taste, hip hips rutting forward instinctively.

“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.

“Language darling, no need to be vulgar,” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jolting with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.

“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.

He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.

You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.

He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him.

You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.

“PLEASE!”

You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.

With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.

His hands push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.

Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.

The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.

The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.

He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.

“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more with a stuttered cry for you as he eases you through it again with his toiling cock.

Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.

His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “... Well now, you are a work of art... So weak, so pathetic, so mine... My dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.

His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.

Every pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.

You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.

“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.

Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.

Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.

The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.

Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure as he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.

Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.

Desperately your arms tugs relentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.

You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, they felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like it’s pressed under your tail too.

You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.

“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.

You break.

Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you wail through your third release absolutely bathing him in your squirt, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.

Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.

Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.

Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.

Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.

Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”

There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.

Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.

His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.

Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.

The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.

“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.

Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.

Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle, secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.

The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?

Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.

He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.

He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.

Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.

He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.

“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.

“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”

Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or barkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him...

Forever Bound.

A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜

[yamsfrecklvs]

i know that smoking is bad and gross and disgusting but i, unfortunately, am a smoker - so hear me out for a second. warning: a lil suggestive, shotgunning, reader is implied as an occasional smoker

kento nanami is a stressed man. his job is hard and he has to deal with, well… a lot.

for this reason, to try and relieve at least some stress, he picked up smoking. it’s not something he’s proud of. he finds it disgusting - he’s ashamed of it, even. he’s the kind of smoker that’s unguessable. he always smells clean, there’s no trace of the deep, strong smell of tobacco on his clothes, in his hair. he’s just so pristine.

so pristine, in fact, that when you two start dating you have absolutely no clue of this little vice of his. it’s the only secret he keeps from you: he doesn’t want you to judge him. and it’s not like he smokes a lot anyway. he usually indulges in a couple of cigarettes a day, nothing more.

but one day, when he kisses you as he picks you up in his car, you can tell he tastes different. there’s a new kind of flavor on his tongue, on his soft lips, and it’s so faint you almost don’t notice it. almost. but you recognize it, because you’re no stranger to smoking either, and when you pull away, you grin ever so slightly. you finally found a small flaw in your perfect man, and you want to tease him for it. but then, you decide to retreat. to find a better occasion to call him out and, who knows, maybe have a little fun with it too.

a couple of days later, you’re at his house, and he's just made love to you. you bask in the intimacy of the moment, his aftercare ever so thoughtful as he cleans you up and whispers soft praises in your ears, his lips brushing against your forehead to kiss it. after he's done taking care of you, he lies down next to you, his hand reaching for yours (and oh, he's such a sap, but you love it). that, you find, is the perfect moment to tease him. you crawl onto him and kiss his cheek, and when he turns to you with a shadow of a smile on his lips, you snicker.

"you know what i'd really like right now?" you ask, feigning innocence.

he hums in response, the back of his hand reaching to caress your cheek. "what, love?"

"a cigarette. i'd love a cigarette right now, ken."

his eyes widen at the weird, sudden request, his lips parting in surprise. he knows you all too well, and he's perfectly aware of the fact that you wouldn't have said that had you not known. he surrenders.

"you knew?"

"you tasted different the other day,” you explain, amused. “why didn't you tell me?"

he shrugs. "it's a bad habit."

"as if i would ever judge you."

he sighs, shaking his head before leaning over to his bedside table and opening the first drawer. "do you really want that?"

you shrug. "sure. give it to me. we can share."

he takes his cigarette pack, a lighter and an ashtray from that same drawer, places the small plate between the two of you as he pulls out a cigarette to hand it to you. you take it between your lips and look up at him as he lights it for you, and kento swears he's never seen anything sexier. you take a couple of drags, the smoke blowing from your lips and rising up in the half-lit room as kento watches you, mesmerized by your mere existence. you turn to him, and as your gazes meet, another idea crosses your mind.

you reach for him, your fingers grazing his mouth, which he opens immediately, almost as a reflex. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and lean in for a kiss, taking another drag of the cigarette instead. but as you get closer again, instead of kissing him, you gently blow the smoke into his mouth. and he drinks it in, the sharp smell of the cigarette burning mixed with your sweet scent, the way your subtle touch on his skin feels like it's burning him up alive. it drives him crazy - so much that, for a second, he loses his cool, grabbing you by the back of your head as his lips crash onto yours messily, hungrily. you can't believe how something as small as a little teasing has got him all worked up again, but you don't mind.

needless to say, the cigarette is quickly forgotten and put out in the ashtray.

the nicotine rush is nothing compared to you, after all.

@yamsfrecklvs

ash's note: lord forgive me i'm so weak for him ... also trust me shotgunning gets you a lot of game (source: me). i’m gonna go smoke a cigarette now

[teddybeartoji]

thinking about burying your face into shoko's chest when the scary movie is getting a litte too scary during the usual sashisu get-together. suguru is acting all calm, (you know his heartbeat is racing, though. he's not as cool as he thinks) surpressing a little smirk while satoru is clutching onto his sweater for his dear life.

shoko isn't focused on the boys, nor is she focused on the tv screen that's filled with blood and guts – your scrunched up face being way more intriguing. she's trying to be smooth, trying to just catch a proper glimpse of you but it's hard without making a fuss. she needs to turn her head and she knows that's gonna get your attention; she doesn't want that. she wants to look at you without you looking back. she wants to study you and your face, you and you expressions, you and your birthmarks and you and your scars. she can't do that if you're staring up at her. she can't study you like that - she'll get distracted.

but c'mon, you're right there – one hand on her stomach, holding yourself up a little while the other is lost somewhere between your bodies. she has to look at you.

and she does. from what she can see, your face is in fact all scrunched up and it is in fact as adorable as she'd thought it'd be. your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes screwed shut as the screaming and yelling continues booming from the tv. your bottom lip is a little jutted out; shoko's lips twitch. so do her fingers.

her one hand is securely holding wine glass while the other... has somehow found its way to your back. for comfort, she thinks to herself. she didn't even realize it was there. instinct, she thinks to herself.

she leans back a mere inch, eager to see more of your pained face but that's when your eyes open; staring right back at her, you feel small. you feel flustered. she has that effect on you. the fingers on your back have now found a lock of hair, twirling the ends between her fingers; surely tainting you with the faint tobacco smell. you don't care.

"scared?" she whispers. her lips move so smoothly, the dark hue of them inviting you in. maroon; the mixture of her own lipstick and the wine - you wonder how she'd taste.

"maybe..." you whisper back. she hums quietly, trying not to attract attention from the boys a few feet away.

"aw..."

it's hard not to burn at her words, her small coo.

"what about you, hm?" you hum back and she can feel it; feel it start from the back of your throat and make its way through your body and then through hers. you're so close. "your heart is beating pretty fast. you sure you're not scared?"

...

it's not often you, or anybody else for that matter, is able to catch her off-guard. this is... new.

she just blinks down at you a few times, her pretty eyelashes fluttering against her soft pale skin. her lips part, yet nothing comes out. for about twenty seconds, it's just you and her. no blood, no gore, no tv, no boys, no noise, no nothing - only her eyes and your eyes. when your own lips quirk up, ready to bark out a tease at her - satoru screams, pulling your attention from her.

while suguru is muffling trying to muffle satoru's awful noises by slapping a palm in front of his mouth and you're trying to keep your laughter from bubbling up - shoko is still staring at you.

[esteljune]

I was thinking about Johnny's scent. I don't think he wears any cologne. If you get close to his neck, right where his beard ends and his hairline begins, and you inhale just slightly, making him shiver, you'll smell a faint scent of pine mixed with industrial soap and a vague hint of tobacco. You don't know why, but it reminds you of the smell of the sun, salt water, and the sea breeze sweeping over rocky green hills.

When Soap comes home from deployment, his natural scent will be mixed with a faint aroma of jet fuel and the disinfectant he used on his new wounds to keep you from worrying.

The best way to enjoy Sergeant John MacTavish, however, is when he's standing in front of you, captivated as you slowly remove his t-shirt, revealing his broad, muscular chest. If you get close enough to make him blush, your fingers tracing the hot muscles, every scar, every fresh scratch, and his chest expanding like a bellows at your touch, you can smell his scent so strong it makes you dizzy.

That scent of sun mixed with the slightly acrid sweetness of sweat. In a kiss, when his tongue searches for yours and you let yourself go, you'll discover how intoxicating his taste can be. A bit too much scotch from the night before, that cigarette he smoked nervously before meeting you, and the coffee you made for him when he walked through the door.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Could I request a barmaid employee!reader x Tommy where he finally convinced her (pressured her) into trying opium with him and he takes advantage of her blissed out state please and thank you 👀

-Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

warnings: drug use, date rape basically, noncon, smoking, p in v

Shining the glasses behind the bar, your not so busy night was coming to end only the lonesome Shelby you could see walking toward the pub in the rain. He was drenched when he walked inside, the smell of soaked clothes and whiskey wafting through the air when he stepped inside.

Tommy had been interested in you for awhile now but hardly ever made an appearance in the pub since you were hired. Something about you kept him astray. Maybe it was the way your hair flowed effortlessly, your strands shining in the dimlight. Or the way your skirt hardly covered the bare skin of your exposed thighs, the fabric sometimes getting bunched up without you know. Such a mysterious, yet beautiful young thing.

Taking a seat at the bar Tommy pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping at the bar signaling for a glass of whiskey as if he hadn't had enough.

"Mr. Shelby, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He chuckled, lighting one, this one not having that orange hue at the bottom like most cigarettes. You'd heard of people rolling their own but Thomas was wealthy enough that there was no need.

Crossing your arms, you crossed the bar, taking a seat beside him when he offered his hand out, motioning for you to take a hit. Perhaps the man just wanted company, a stranger to share his time with from his dreary life, yet something seemed off. He hadn't even said anything to you and you'd heard the rumors about him.

“It’s just a smoke. What do you think I laced it or something?” Tommy chuckled casually, keeping his calm composure, those blue, charming eyes shining like diamonds toward you while the sound of water dripping from his hair onto the floor being the only sound in the room.

After some contemplation, perhaps one cigarette wouldn’t be too bad, besides it wasn’t often your boss even checked in with how the pub was doing. The casuals never failing to show up and drink their lives away while wallowing over women who’d left them, throwing a few flirtatious remarks in the process.

“Alright fine.” Tommy leaned over, his firm grip on the drug pressing to your lips, telling you to inhale. It wasn't even nearly five seconds later that you were coughing up a lung. You didn't normally smoke, the feeling of smoke filling your airway still new to you but this tasted different. Maybe it was imported tobacco or something, definitely not weed.

“Tom, you didn’t tell me cigarettes were going to make my mouth as dry as a fucking desert.” Your eyes were dazing, vision turning blurry from the drug. Was this how cigarettes were supposed to make you feel? It was working, Tommy was pleasantly surprised how fast the potent effects had on you.

"You alright y/n, eh?" Your body suddenly felt a euphoric rush, angelic eyes rolling back as your eyelids fluttered shut.

Noticing your head falling, Tommy sat back you temple resting lazily on his shoulder as he smoothe back your hair, other hand gliding over the bare skin of your thigh.

The last thing you remembered before everything turned black was Tommy’s fingers inching under the thin fabric of your panties.

Your vision and thoughts came and went in waves, only conscious for certain periods of his abuse.

Tommy hummed in approval, before unbuckling his belt buckle and flailing your blissed out body over the bar, ignoring your incoherent mumbles of protest. Fuck you could hardly see anything, the atmosphere just spinning, unable to form any basic thought while a numbing sensation inhabited your brain and body. The only thing you could sense was the profound danger you were in, body unable to do anything about it.

His hands grazed up the smooth skin of your thighs, landing on your perky cheeks and gripping tightly at the fatty skin. He was going to have so much fun.

"Fuck." He cursed in a low, desirable groan finally having your most private area on full display just for him.

His fingers slicked between your wet folds, stopping at your hole. Plunging his fingers in, he was surprised to feel how wet and tight your hole was, it was even better than he imagined.

Groaning and trying to bat him away with a flick of your hand, he grabbed your wrists holding them behind your back while unzipping the zipper of his pants, allowing his girthy, eager member to spring free.

“Aw c’mon sweetheart. I’m simply doing you a gratuitous favor.” You whimpered underneath him, unable to close your legs due to his tall, over powering figure standing between them.

Aligning his cock he took a deep breath in before plunging into your sweet, tight abyss. Your head rolled from the slight sting, still unable to do much from stopping him. He felt rather large, girthy even. Stretching you open wider, his eyes glued to his cock sliding in and out between your slicked walls. “Tommy-“ The only thing you could mutter out, wincing from the pain and still delirious from the effects of the drug.

“Look at my favorite barmaid taking me cock so well.” He continued to hold your wrists back, hips snapping against you roughly, hitting your cervix with each forceful thrust. You cried out from the pain that still had yet to turn into any type of pleasure.

Your ass cheeks ricocheted off of his movements each time his length pounded back into you. You were out of breath, body weak. The sight of you so weak and ar his complete mercy only pumped the raging hormones inside him, stepping closer so that he was rutting into you like a fucking dog relentlessly. Claiming what he’d wanted to for quite a long time.

His fist curled in your hair, lips just inches away from your ear as he moaned lustfully against your lobe, biting at the sensitive skin roughly.

“Gonna fucking cum in you like the whore you are…” The last thing you felt was Tommy’s cock pulsating inside of you before you passed out.

When awoke, Tommy must have layed your damn near lifeless body up against the shelves of liquor in the basement. Jolting up, your head was pounding, eyes scanning the room frantically before the shattered pieces of your memory came flooding back into your mind.

Upon noticing the bruises on your thighs, you could hear menacing footsteps walking down the stairs toward you. What else had he done to you?

"Ready for a second dose?"

[zvezda-writer]

Ex-boyfriend!Simon x Sex Worker!Reader

How big was your surprise when the door of your client's apartment opened and there was Simon, your ex.

Well, yes, it has been around ten years since you saw each other and he definitely had a glow up from the gaunt, funny boy you met back in the shitty neighborhood you two lived in Manchester. Same neighborhood, same type of family, same struggles growing up. You two had everything in common and could've ended up getting married and living in a one bedroom apartment in the same old neighborhood.

But he left.

Without goodbye, without explaining, he just left. You found out by his brother that he had joined the military. You were devastated, to say the least.

You stayed behind, having to take care of your ill mother since your father was a drunk bastard. Until he died when you were nineteen, killed during a bar fight. With the employment rate near to zero in the area you lived in, your solutions were either prostitution or drug dealing, and you refused to be involved with drugs.

That's how you ended up in the sex business. The money was good and you and your mother moved to London, and you started getting richer clients. That's how you ended up there, face to face with the man who broke your heart when you were only sixteen.

You two stared at each other in dead silence for a couple of seconds until you decided that he probably didn't even remember you, so you just acted normal, like you didn't remember him too. The money was too good to reject it.

–You're the one who called me, handsome?

You asked, your voice sickly sweet. He didn't answer, of course. At least not with words.

Without saying anything, he cupped your face with his big, callused hands, attacking your lips with his with deep, burning passion, the taste of his lips heavy with a mix of whiskey and tobacco. The taste had changed, but the way he kissed you, like a starved man, was the very same since you were both teenagers.

But, oh, he remembered you. More than you could've expected. And the moment he saw you standing right in front of the door, the feelings he had butried so deep came back to life in a explosion, leaving him blind with passion and longing.

After a moment he finally let go of your lips, pulling away just enough to get some air, his hands never leaving your face as he whispered in a raspy, rough voice who almost made you moan.

–Can't belive you're bloody real... Ten years, bunny. It's been fucking ten years.

And your heart stopped. He remembered. And hearing him call you the petname he had used with you so many times in the past made your heart twist in knots, eyes burning with tears that you refused to let fall. Your makeup was too expensive for it.

–I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for not saying goodbye.

He murmured, kissing you again and again as he pulled you inside, shutting the door close without letting go of you.

Each kiss, each touch, everything about him and his presence was an explosion of feelings and sensations you couldn't describe, ecstasy cursing through your veins at each pump of your heart, lungs suffocating with the smell of his cologne at each uneven breathing, brain melting with every sweet word that left his mouth, body shuddering with every thrust of his divine sculpted dick.

–I'm never letting you go again, bunny...–another thrust –Gonna marry you...–another thrust –Gonna fill you up and make you a mommy, yeah?

All you could do was nod, your brain barely registering his words as he overwhelmed you with pleasure and love, and even if what he said wasn't true, it didn't matter at the moment. At that moment, you were both the old Y/N and Simon again, hiding inside his father's old truck at night to have a moment alone.

Your mind turned into a puddle as an overwhelming, destructive orgasm hit her, your warm and soaked cunt clenching and throbbing around his cock, and after a few more thrusts he made his words come true, filling you up to the brim.

Sure, at the moment you didn't actually believe he would marry you and take care of you, but then six months later you found yourself sitting on a comfortable armchair, hand resting on top of your round belly as you watched the most handsome man in the world build your daughter's crib in her pink room, under your inspection of course. Guess he took his promises way too seriously because after the first encounter in two months you were married and moving to a beautiful house in a nice, calm neighborhood, and everyday he made sure to remind you that you didn't have to lift a finger, he was your man, he's supposed to take care of you, right?

[doestalker]

smoker!suguru geto headcanons

disclaimer: i smoke. i'm not promoting smoking, i know it's an addiction and that it's awfully unhealthy. this is for funsies and for the ones that wanna smoke a cig with geto. gender neutral reader!

smoking indoors fuck yeah !!

he smokes menthols, i know a fellow menthol enjoyer when i see one.

definitely a lighter thieve. just look at him. he's a little lighter gremlin with a 50+ collection.

he likes to roll tobacco too, he's just used to smoking pre-rolls, it's like meditation for him. he likes the coffee and chocolate flavored ones. and he enjoys to roll them for you too.

flips a lucky whenever he buys a new pack. before he said i love you for the first time, he gave you his lucky one.

he always buys an extra pack for you when he's at the convinience store to buy his.

cool summer nights smoking in the balcony with him !!!

he always lights your cigarettes for you.

sharing his cigarette with you but only if you smoke out of his hand, as if he was feeding you.

if you wear lipstick, he finds fascinating the way it stains the filter of your cigarettes. sometimes he asks you to take a drag out of his so it gets stained.

he strongly believes that you can't bum the last of the pack. but one time he forgot his cigarettes at home and you just finished yours, leaving the last one of your pack. you gave it to him without hesitation and he almost proposed in the middle of the streets.

smoking during sex !!!

smoking after sex !!!

he would give you a heart made of cigarette butts glued to a piece of cardboard. you would hang it on the living room unironically.

he may smoke, but a pet peeve of his is the smell of cigarette left on his fingertips, so he would wash his hands after every smoke.

he likes to taste the tobacco on your tongue whenever you make out.

[sugarbbgrl]

here's some professor!price. eat it up my little angels >:))

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ MDNI 18+ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Fantasizing about your professor is okay.

Wanting his hot tongue delved deep inside you, eating you as if it were his last meal is okay.

Wanting his hot, sweaty body against yours as he dives deep into you is okay.

Fantasizing about these things in the middle of his class is not. It's quite dangerous in fact. You can't even look at him without flashes of what could be between the two of you bombarding you thoughts, your senses.

Unfortunately with fantasies, comes dreams. You’ve had many dreams of Professor Price, some tame and some not. But for some damn reason, last night was different. It was almost as if you could feel everything, see everything. His skin was rough yet so smooth all in the same. His breath against your thighs, fingertips gripping tightly around your thighs, his lips pressing and sloppy kisses against your core. You could feel his hair in your fists as he helped you reach your inevitable climax.

You woke up with a sharp ache and wetness against the crotch of your underwear. Not even a cold shower this morning could help.

So now you sit here, in his class, your mind swirling with the dream as if it were some reality.

And it's almost as if he knows, like he’s feeding off of the undivided attention you bring to him. You try to hide your little school girl crush as best as you can, but today was damn near impossible.

“Y/N, you alright, love?” A shiver runs down your spine, the meek pet name eliciting an almost immediate reaction out of you. Professor Price was standing directly in front of your desk, head cocked to the side and hands grasped behind his back. You straighten your posture from leaning your chin in the palm of your hand and flick your eyes up to his. He wore a sly grin on his lips, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Oh- yes, sir.” You answer almost too quickly, placing your hands in your lap. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently, nothing major.” You return him a small smile and brush some hair in front of your face behind your ear. He chuckles and shakes his head slightly, looking back into your eyes.

“Love, the bell has rung.” He turns to walk back to his desk, turning his attention back to you and leans against the front of it. “You’ve been sitting here for a good bit.”

You looked around and, sure enough, the classroom was completely vacant aside from you and Professor Price. You’d been so caught up in your daydream haze that the ringing of the shrill bell completely evaded your interest.

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath while scrambling to your feet, gathering your possessions. “I-I’m sorry, Professor. I hadn’t realized.”

“S’alright, Love. I don’t mind the company.” Professor Price says and winks at you, his hands now gripping the edge of his desk. Your cheeks swell with a pink tint at the gesture, your face falling down to quickly continue to pack up your things. You really can’t be here right now, You need to get back to my dorm.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’ve got a free period, and from what I know, so do you.” Suddenly, his voice was right behind you, your breath hitching at his sudden warmth. Again, your heartbeat betrays you, but this time, beating a million miles a minute. You could sense his closeness, smell his tasteful cologne and tobacco mixture, you’d never been more aware of his presence than you are in this moment.

“P-professor, wha-” Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder, turning you in his direction. Chest heaving and hands shaking lightly, your turn to the beautiful man in front of you—the man you’d just had a wet dream about just hours ago.

Professor Price had never been this close to you. Sure, he’d come close to you, but not like he is now. Sometimes his eyes meet yours in the middle of a lecture, his eyes linger a little too long or his fingers brush yours "accidently" when you hand in papers. It's torturous, suffocating almost. His affect on you was undeniable, and this is just making this so much more complicated.

“I watch you, y’know,” He begins speaking, his face only inches from yours. “I notice the way you watch me when teaching, the way your eyes trail from my eyes to my mouth. The way you bite your lip, seemingly trying to suppress noises that your professor should be ashamed of.”

His other hand is now on your other shoulder, both of them now trailing down your biceps. You let your body shudder against his touch, your eyes fluttering up never closing. You must still be daydreaming, there’s no way in hell the man you’ve been secretly lusting over for almost a year is touching you like this.

“You’re not very discreet, love. You really ought to work on that until more people catch on.” Professor Price warns, his hands now gently gliding down your forearms as if you were some prized possession, scared to chip or crack. He pulls you closer by your hands, bringing his lips close to your ear. His breath smelled heavy of tobacco, oddly enough heating your core more.“ You have no idea what goes on in my head when I see you sitting like an obedient little girl at the front of my class.” His lips brush the shell of your ear as he divulges his deepest desires. “I want nothing more than to see your body draped over my desk, writhing beneath me as I devour you whole.”

plz lmk if this is something i should continue after that delicious cliffhanger

[yoonavii]

Flirting with fire (Pt. 2)

OPLA! Sanji x Reader

A/N: Read PART ONE first before this one. Enjoy :)

The next morning, you made your way to the Baratie’s bustling kitchen, ready to start another day of culinary adventures. As you walked in, the savory aroma of cooking filled the air, but your attention was quickly drawn to the hushed voices coming from the pantry. Curiosity getting the better of you, you lingered by the pantry’s cracked door, unintentionally eavesdropping on a conversation between Zeff, the grizzled old chef of the Baratie, and Sanji, the suave and passionate cook.

Zeff’s gruff voice reached your ears, “Little eggplant, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ve been around long enough to recognize love when I see it. I’m aware of your feelings for y/n. You’ve been taking too long to confess.” Sanji, who was usually quick with his retorts, tried to deny his feelings, “Oi, Zeff, what are you talking about? There’s nothing like that going on.”

Zeff’s eyes bore into Sanji, his tone stern, “Boy, I know you better than you know yourself. Don’t try to hide your heart from me.” Sanji sighed, seemingly defeated, and admitted, “Yeah, Zeff, you’re right. I’ve got feelings for her, but I don’t know how to confess. I can’t even find the right words.”

Zeff chuckled, “Confess? You, who can woo female customers with ease, can’t confess to the one who matters most? That’s rich.” Just then, you cleared your throat, making your presence known. Zeff greeted you with a knowing smile and gave Sanji a subtle wink before leaving the room, leaving you two alone.

An awkward silence hung in the air as you began gathering ingredients from the pantry’s shelves. Sanji, seemingly unable to contain his emotions any longer, followed closely behind you. With a gentle push, he closed the pantry doors, leaving you both in a secluded, intimate space. The tension between you two was palpable; your bodies were practically pressed against the pantry shelves, and you could smell his signature cologne, a mix of tobacco and spices, even more intensely at such close proximity.

Breaking the silence, Sanji took a deep breath, his voice sincere and filled with longing, “I can’t hold it in any longer, y/n. You mean everything to me. When I’m cooking, it’s your smile I picture. When I’m dreaming, it’s your face I see. I’ve been hiding my feelings because I was scared, but now, I can’t. I love you more than anything in this world.” Your heart skipped a beat at his heartfelt confession, and you couldn’t resist any longer. You pulled him closer by his tie, capturing his lips in a passionate and fiery kiss. The world outside the pantry seemed to disappear as the two of you lost yourselves in each other’s embrace.

As the kiss deepened, your hands explored each other’s bodies, igniting a fierce desire that had been smoldering for far too long. Sanji’s hands cradled your face, his lips fervently moving against yours, tasting the sweetness of the forbidden fruit they had longed for. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart, synchronized with your own, and the heat between you intensified with every passing moment. In your passionate frenzy, you stumbled and crashed into shelves, knocking over cans and creating a cacophonous mess. From a distance, Zeff’s voice interrupted your heated moment, “Oi, you two lovebirds better get to work before the whole ship catches fire!” Giggling and flushed with desire, you both separated reluctantly, leaving the pantry to resume your duties in the kitchen. But now, you carried a secret, a newfound passion for each other that had finally been confessed.

As the day went on, the two of you shared secret glances and subtle smiles, knowing that your love had been revealed and that your future together was now a tantalizing promise.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[heich0e]

choso/f!reader

The light from the signs that line the street around you makes a dull, irritating ache throb behind your eyes.

It’s a migraine. Or exhaustion maybe. Regardless of the cause, the pain carves its way through you like rot. You lower your eyes to the pavement, hoping that by averting your gaze from the fluorescents you may find some temporary reprieve.

It doesn’t help much.

You fish the little paper packet of cigarettes out from inside the small purse you wear over your arm. There are only three left in the pack, but you swear there should be more. You’d only bought them that morning—no, wait, yesterday morning, since you’d gone a night without sleep. You suck a little hiss of disappointed air in through your teeth, plucking out one of the last lonely cigarettes from inside the pack and then retrieving your lighter too. Though inadvisable by anyone medically qualified, you hope that maybe the hit of nicotine might help the headache while you wait.

Cigarette between your teeth, you lift your little yellow lighter to the end. Pressing down on the safety that covers the spark wheel you draw it quickly back, but the tiny flame that appears momentarily flickers out just as swiftly. You repeat the motion, pressing and dragging your thumb to light it, but you find no more success than you had upon your first attempt. Your lips pull into a tighter line, pressing into the spongey filter of the cigarette in frustration. You shake the lighter a few times, hoping that whatever meagre amount of fluid left in it might suddenly decide to make itself known.

You light it again.

Nothing.

“Here.”

You glance up.

Choso stands before you, his arm extended in your direction with a lighter in his hand. It’s green—a less neon shade than your own lighter—and has something scrawled across it in smudged ink that you can’t make out in the night. Your eyes meet, a momentary look passing between the two of you. Recognition. Greeting, maybe.

You don’t take the lighter from his hand. Instead, you steady the cigarette between your lips in the V of your fingers and lean towards him. He understands without it needing to be said, clicking his own lighter to life and holding it to the end until the cherry flares red on your inhale.

Your eyes meet again as you angle yourself into his space, closer now than before. The same street signs and their glowing lights that had been so irritating to you catch in his glassy brown eyes, framed by long lashes that flutter in a blink.

He looks tired. But he always looks tired, and you’re sure you’re not faring much better—so who are you to judge?

You pull away once your cigarette is lit, taking a drag and then blowing the smoke into the wind. 

“You’re late,” you say quietly. Not a hello, nor a thank you.

“Sorry,” he replies. “My little brother had cram school. I had to wait to make sure he got home safely.”

Itadori Yuuji—15, a high school student, not his brother by blood.

You nod a little bit, dismissive more than it is accepting, and take another long drag from your cigarette. 

Choso watches you raptly, his eyes following every movement. After some time passes, you hold the cigarette out to him in offering, though it’s mostly burned away.

“No, thank you,” he refuses you politely, dipping his head.

You finish the cigarette off, and then drop it to the ground and crush it under the pointed toe of your high-heeled shoe.

There’s a mint in your coat pocket, and you quickly pop it into your mouth to chase away the lingering taste of tobacco. You love the nicotine rush, but you still hate the bitter flavour that lingers on your tongue even after all these years. Choso watches that too—his eyes following your hand until the little white pastille slips behind your lips.

Your gazes meet.

You take a step towards him, wrapping your hands around his arm and tucking yourself against his side. It’s natural. Familiar. Easy. He smells like soap, and this close to him you can see the way his dark hair—down today, and tucked behind his ears, rather than in the two twists he often wears—is faintly wet, like he’s only just showered. 

“Let’s go.” 

Inside the shabby lobby, there’s only one person lingering—a man, standing behind the counter—who pastes on a small but notably insincere smile when you and Choso step through the door. 

“Good evening,” he greets you with a slight bow.

“A room, please,” Choso says to him, to the point but not unkind.

“For how long?”

You feel the man’s eyes on you then, and you know what he must be thinking. It’s not hard to tell, looking between you and Choso, what the two of you are doing—even less so at a love hotel on a seedy side of town where you can book rooms by the half-hour. The differences between Choso and yourself are many and obvious; what with your skimpy little dress and your heels in contrast to his jeans; raggedy, thick-soled combat boots; and windbreaker. And that’s to say nothing about the differences in your countenances: Choso looks stiff, uncomfortable even, under the scrutiny of the man at the front desk, but you’re largely unbothered by the judgement in his gaze. You lean a little more into Choso’s arm where you’re wrapped around it, tucking your face into his collar in a show of diffidence but you meet the man’s eyes with a flutter of your lashes. 

He licks his lips a little, a flush appearing just above the collar of his rumpled dress shirt, and you resist the urge to sneer in disgust.

Once the two of you receive the key to your room, you quietly make your way there—still sticking close to Choso’s side as you depart from the lobby towards the elevator. You don’t cross paths with another soul as you travel to your room on the third floor, the only sound to be heard is the mechanical fwoosh of the elevator as it climbs, the hum of the vending machine selling variously erotic wares you have to pass to make it to your room, and the quiet beep as Choso unlocks the door. 

Just as the two of you are about to step in, a door at the other end of the hall opens, and Choso swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you in front of him to usher you across the threshold first—using his body to shield you from the eyes of the man who passes down the corridor behind him as the door swings shut. There’s something almost charmingly conscientious about the gesture, though it seems to have been more unconscious than anything.

The room is just what you expect it to be. Plain. Somewhat sterile. Not uncomfortable, but not particularly homey, either. There’s a bed, two bedside tables, a television mounted at the foot of the bed. There’s a door that leads into the tiny washroom, where the shower seems to take up most of the floorspace. The room is dim, likely intentionally, even once you flick the overhead lights on.

“That guy was creepy,” you sigh, stepping away from Choso and further into the room towards the bed. 

“Who?” he asks.

“The guy at the counter,” you sniff, flopping down at the edge of the bed. You throw one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee, and lean back on your elbows against the mattress. The linen is surprisingly soft considering the inexpensive rate. “You’d swear he’s never seen a call girl before.”

Choso is still standing by the door, looking as uncomfortable as ever. He reaches up and rubs his neck, peering around the room seemingly just as an excuse not to meet your eyes.

“So,” you call to him, beckoning his wandering attention back to you. You tilt your head to the side once his gaze connects with yours. “Did you bring it?”

Choso’s hand flutters to the pocket of his dark windbreaker, and part of you wonders if he even knows he did it. You always find that part of him so curious—his sincerity. How easy he is for you to read. You can’t help but question if he’s like this with everyone, or if there’s something about you that makes him this way.

He nods.

The mint you popped into your mouth before entering the hotel has melted away to nothing on your tongue now, but the lingering freshness remains. You feel the mentholated burn as you suck in a little breath, a pleasant tingle in your throat.

“Let’s see it, then,” you say, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitates a little but then he approaches, pulling a creased envelope out from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. It’s folded in half, and theres a grease stain at the corner of the white paper envelope—not uncommon for a mechanic, you suppose.

Choso’s hands are always so clean when he meets you, though.

Inside the envelope is exactly what you came here for.

“This is perfect,” you remark, thumbing through the papers as your eyes quickly scan across the pages to surmise their contents. 

Choso is very still as he stands in front of you, towering over where you sit perched at the edge of the love hotel bed and watching as you flick through the papers he’s just delivered into your hands. There’s something sort of expectant in the way he waits for you to speak again.

“And you’re sure this is all of it?” you ask him, glancing up from the pages in your grip.

He nods. “That’s everything.”

“Gojo’s gonna lose his shit when I slap this on his desk,” you remark to yourself with a snort. You can already picture the absolute dismay on Satoru’s face when he realizes that you beat him to the punch in securing the information that he’s been after for weeks now. You’re sure he’ll be whining about it to Geto for days.

Choso fidgets slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Nice work, kid,” you commend him, looking up at him with a smile.

There’s a shift in expression on Choso’s face then—not quite a pout, but a definite air of disappointment or displeasure. He says nothing in spite of the look, and you don’t ask anything, either. That’s not what you came here to talk about, after all. For all intents and purposes, your businesses began and ended with the stack of papers in your lap.

Contained within the pages Choso brought to you is every vehicle (make, model, VIN number and plate) that Choso’s garage has worked on or modified for the crime syndicate currently wreaking havoc in the city under Sukuna’s command. 

“I’ve got your payment here,” you say, fishing out an envelope of your own from inside your purse. There’s enough cash inside the crisp manila envelop that you produce to reimburse the cost of the room he’d paid for and to compensate him for the information. “The rest of it went to the cram school to cover your brother’s tuition, as usual.”

Choso takes it from your hands, his long fingers brushing gently against your own as it passes between your grips, and he doesn’t even bother checking the contents before he slips it into his pocket. 

“Thank you, Inspector,” he says quietly, dipping his head in a bow.

Your lips purse as Choso stares down at his feet, observing the way he seems to be avoiding your gaze.

Choso’s been working as an informant for the past few years. It started off just passing small pieces of information here and there, having established a rapport with your previous chief in his late teens following the murders of his two brothers thanks to the early days of the gang that would eventually grow into Sukuna’s organization now. Choso was born into that life—cursed by his own blood—but he’s made a conscious effort in his adulthood to keep on the straight and narrow, largely for Yuuji’s sake.

You’ve been meeting him like this for a little over a year now, building your own relationship with him now that the chief retired. Choso’s mechanic shop sees all kinds of people coming in and out, good and bad, and he gleans a lot of information in his neutrality. He’s useful to you.

You understand the risk that Choso takes by meeting with you. By working for you. It’s a truth you recognize as well as he does. But he’s never hesitated to get you the information you ask for. Has never denied you anything you seek. All he asks in return is a meagre compensation and the assured safety and education of his little brother. 

You wonder why he’s willing to go so far, and for whose sake he does it.

You flop back onto the hotel bed, one hand resting over the papers in your lap to keep them from slipping onto the floor.

“I’m beat,” you complain, throwing your other arm up over your eyes and hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

“You’re not sleeping?” the soft rumble of Choso’s low voice is strangely comforting like this.

You hum. “Haven’t been home in two days.”

“You need to rest,” he chides you, and there’s something funnily maternal in the way he says it. He’s suddenly every bit the big brother you know him to be. You shift your arm so you can peek up at him from where you’re sprawled across the bed. 

He’s inched closer to you since your eyes were covered, hesitating at the very edge of the mattress beside you. He’s staring down at you with a serious expression on his face, slightly pinched in reproach but softened at the edges with concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, lifting your hand and waving it dismissively. “I’ll get there eventually, kid.”

Choso catches your wrist in his hand before you can let it drop again, suddenly kneeling against the mattress so he’s looming over you. You’re surprised by the gesture, a sudden falter in the steady thumping of your heart as he stares down at you.

“I’m older than you,” he says quietly, somewhat sullen but simultaneously sheepish. His eyes bore down into yours. “Please stop calling me 'kid'.”

You know he’s right. You know just about everything there is to know about Kamo Choso on paper, having researched him and his background extensively before you got involved with him like this. You suppose you picked up the habit thanks to the chief, since that’s how he always used to refer to him. As Choso hovers over you, his big hand still wrapped around your wrist and his broad frame blocking the rest of the hotel room behind him from view, the truth of his remark rings palpably true.

You suddenly aren’t sure how to respond, your lips parting but no words slipping out.

Choso lets your hand drop after a moment, shifting to sit beside you on the bed. There’s no other seats in the small hotel room, so it’s not particularly unexpected, but you’re strangely conscious of him now in ways you don’t like.

“You should sleep here for a bit,” he says, his eyes glancing over to the clock on the bedside table. “We have the room for another hour.”

You don’t ever leave the hotel room before a realistically inconspicuous amount of time has passed, but suddenly the prospect of spending another hour with him makes your stomach twist.

“I’m fine,” you try to brush him off, sitting up and neatly stacking the papers so that you can slip them back into their envelope and tuck them safely into your purse. Your face feels hot, and that ache between your temples is back again. You contemplate another cigarette.

A gentle touch against your elbow makes you freeze.

You glance over at Choso from the corner of your eye, and find his dark gaze on you. His eyes are imploring, soft, and seemingly fathomless.

“Rest,” he insists again. “I’ll wake you before we need to leave.”

Your eyes scan his face. Your headache throbs.

There are a hundred reasons to deny him. A thousand reasons you shouldn’t listen to what he says.

But there’s one—a distant, whispered reason, that you don’t want to acknowledge—that tells you differently.

“Move over,” you grumble, letting your purse fall to the floor with a dull thud!

Choso obeys immediately, shifting so you can crawl into the bed beside him and rest against the pillows. You squeeze your eyes shut the minute your head hits them.

“You should at least take your shoes off,” Choso remarks. You flinch a little as you feel the warmth of his hand on your ankle, holding it steady as he gently slips your shoe from your foot. He repeats the same motion for the other. 

Your eyes remain shut. 

After a moment of stillness, you feel the mattress shift slightly and the warmth of his body recede. When you crack one eye open to survey what changed, you see that Choso’s slipped down to the floor, resting with his back against the side of the bed and his legs crossed underneath him. His eyes are shut now too, and you watch his profile for a moment as he breathes.

You close your eyes again.

“Wake me up in thirty minutes,” you mumble, and Choso hums in response. “I’ll leave first."

But even in the stillness of that little hotel room, even in your exhaustion, neither of you manages to fall asleep.

[silaslich]

Words that melt in your mouth

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Wc - 2k

Summary - Simon is finally home, you show him how that makes you feel.

Cw - 18+, smut

He looks different every time you see him.

Perhaps not literally, but you’ve always seen through the mask. Both real and metaphorical; it’s as if another layer of him is stripped away with each passing footstep through the pools of blood coagulating in the sand and across the broken slabs of concrete that are left in his wake. The splintered buildings crumble and the structures give way around him, yet he never quickens his pace, as if he welcomes it - almost like he’s waiting for it.

“Deserve it” he’d grumble to you, mumbled against your throat when you question a fresh scar or open gash, because his voice is more often than not a grumble or laced with a somber tone that totally contradicts what he might actually be saying.

You’ve learnt to live with that. The self depreciation that comes along with Simon Riley. You’d learnt to live with what little value he puts on his own life and happiness for the sake of feeling like he brought this on himself. He won’t ever change - no. He was made this way, further moulded by the death and destruction he brings with him when he flies over seas and straps a gun to his chest.

He doesn’t talk about it, not much, you never dare to ask. It’s one of those things you don’t talk about, biting your tongue till you taste copper out of morbid curiosity because it’s a basic human reaction when it comes to the life he leads.

Of course you ponder what killing someone is like, doesn’t everyone?

They’re lying if they say no. It’s human. It’s instinct, long ago maybe, but instinct. Fight or flight. Predetermined to be overcome by the adrenaline or fear, so much so it’s often the urge to fight that outweighs the instinct to flee.

If given a chance, a free pass; you’d ask him about all of it.

The bloodshed and the bullets, what it’s like to bury a knife so deep into someones throat that your knuckles meet the thick corded tendons that hold their oesophagus together.

What does death smell like, exactly?

How is it that you make the split second decision on ending someone’s life or letting them live?

The foggy skies filled with rifle smoke and looming rain clouds, washing away the blood splattered stains on the sandstone and what’s left of the men, women and children killed in the line of duty.

Part of you thinks he’d tell you, he’d tell you too much, make you regret asking.

He carries that weight in a way he shouldn’t, but how can’t he? It’s like a chain-link mass of lead attached to his ankle, dragged with him wherever he goes, the clank of metal resonating in his ears as the weight almost pulls him under - soon enough he’ll sink.

That’s why he looks different.

It’s not the scars that tally up with each visit or the way his lungs rasp with the tacky sickness of tobacco hindering them that have caused him to change. Nor the length of his hair, wether it’s newly cropped or he’s let it grow a bit longer, it’s not even the sadness in his eyes that he tries to hide as anger or as lacking any emotion at all.

It’s the way he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. His guilt and his sadness; an ugly creature with jagged teeth and weathered skin, a stench of booze emanating from its skin when it hisses his name in his ear. Hissing like the snakes in his childhood, tormenting him in his bed, when the image of his guilt and resentment build themselves into a tangible image -

He’s that little boy again. Too small to stand up for himself and his mother, too weak to open his mouth and say what he thinks, and too much of hopeless dreamer to pray to god that things will get better. They didn’t. He cared too much back then, now he doesn’t care at all.

It stings, somewhat, knowing he’s not fighting to come back, but at the end of it all - you don’t think you can blame him.

He’s sitting on the sofa, a book in hand, flipping mindlessly through the pages. You linger in the doorway, drinking him in for a second, he sits in his own blanket of silence. You assume he enjoys the quiet, he’s drowned in too much noise for months at a time, it must be a nice feeling to leave it all behind. If only for a few days.

You make your way over to him, he spares you a glance, watching you come close. “Alright darlin’?” His voice is low, it rumbles in his chest when he speaks, it makes your stomach flip. Even now, after so much time has passed you both by, the novelty never wears off. “Much better with you home” you push his hand down, the one holding the book, climbing over his knees and setting yourself astride his thighs. You feel the muscles in his legs tense beneath you, so sturdy, solid.

The book is discarded, tossed aside, all the focus is on you. He tilts his head, the light catches the scars littering his face, the one that cuts through his right eyelid and the one that drives down through his lips at a sharp angle are the most prominent, you tell him that they add character- he disagrees.

“That so?” He asks with a raised brow, you nod profusely, “indeed” you purse your lips “all the other fellas that come over aren’t nearly as fun as you” he pinches the slight flesh over your waistband and you squeal, he doesn’t let up. “You’re a cheeky fucker” he smiles, slightly toothy, he dips his chin when he smiles out of instinct and you wish he wouldn’t.

You cup his face in your hands, mapping out his features, the notch at the bridge of his nose from multiple bad breaks and the speckles of honey that litter the deep walnut-brown of his eyes, everything’s perfect to you. “You’re so pretty Simon” you huff, “it’s unfair” you jut out your lip and he pinches at your flesh again, “don’t start” he groans and you lean forward to bury your face in his neck, drawing him in. You wish you could fold him up really small and put him in your pocket, a keepsake, treasured forever. As long as you remember to take him out before you stick the clothes in the washer.

He searches your eyes, there’s that vulnerability that sticks there, disguised as so many other things, but nothing gets past you, not when it comes to him. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a tender peck. “So so unfair” you say between kisses, dotting them over his face, over his scars and freckles. He groans again in annoyance and his fingers root deeper into your flesh, one big hand on your thigh while the others at the small of your back. He’s had enough, “come ‘ere” he meets you half way, back straightened as one hand moves to cup your jaw, he kisses you in that tender way that makes your bones melt into nothingness.

Simon’s efforts are never halfhearted, he starts as he means to go on, that cruel tongue and those plush lips, a deadly combination. It’s never innocent, he kisses you with intent, with meaning and passion and you can never deny him. You’d be denying yourself, still after all this time you never get tired of this, of him and his ways.

You roll your hips forward, teasing, testing. Simon moans into your mouth. Unabashed, all for your ears to hear, he doesn’t hide it from you. His hand cups your throat, thumb stroking over your neck, tenderly. Your fingers root into his clothes, warping the fabric you’re sure, you need him closer. “Fuck” he rasps, the word travels from his lips to yours, right down to your core, dropping lower. He’s hard, it’s a given, doesn’t take him much when it comes to you, it’s an issue at this point - the two of you had to return home from food shopping the other day because you made an indirect innuendo about the uses for whipped cream and he couldn’t pick his mind up out of the gutter.

It’s not as if it’s still the honeymoon phase, so much time has passed and yet you’re still both horny at the drop of a hat.

You smile against his lips, catching his bottom lip with your teeth. “Can’t wait Simon”, he growls something low in his throat. You both fumble with zippers and pants, shoving layers out of the way, as quick as possible.

It’s a sensation you hope you’ll never have to forget when he pushes home, rooted deep inside you, his cock slicked in his own spit where he wasted only a second to ensure it didn’t sting too much. It’s always too much, there’s so much of him, but you wouldn’t ever change a thing. You gasp, rocking forward as Simon hisses, bruising your flesh in his grip, it’s always so good.

“Fuckin hell” he groans, tilting his head back till the cords of his throat bunch beneath his skin, straining. You preen, “it’s so good Simon” your voice carries off, rolling your hips to a rhythm as he guides you by the thighs. It’s gotten so hot, your brow is sweating and your skin is clammy, you don’t want to rush but you need this so badly. “Wanna cum Si” you moan, leaning forward as you brace your palms on his stomach, he nods. “Yeah? Wanna cum for me love? Gonna cum all over my cock?” he smirks, eyes black as a shark, a predator - you nod like a maniac.

Your skin all but shreds itself to pieces when he brings his hand between your bodies, his touch is like electric, sending sparks right to your nervous system. He knows just how to get you going, just how to bring your to the edge and let you teeter there for as long as he sees fit - today? He’s not playing games. “Oh god” you pant, throwing your head back, digging your nails into his shirt to keep yourself upright. “Right there, that it love?” He asks, tone dripping in sex, “yes- yes!” You gasp. He hums, watching as he pleasures you, his lids are low as he watches his own show. You moan, “I’m so close-god” you groan, you’re so nearly there.

His hips rise to meet your rhythm, fucking up into you, pressing deep - it’s heaven. He’s panting, “m’close love” he grunts, lids low as he focuses on where the two of you meet. You arch your hips and it’s enough to topple you both, the way you squeeze his cock as you cum sends him over the edge just after you and the sounds he makes will forever be engrained in your memory.

You’re both heaving, catching your breath, slicked in sweat as your clothes stick to your skin uncomfortably- no time to even remove them. He leans forward again and catches your lips sweetly, big soft Simon Riley, kissing you gently after fucking on his sofa, what a good day.

[recklessmark]

Unfaithful

Summary: It doesn’t matter that you are Jeno’s girlfriend, you’ve always want something else. Read Part 1 Here

Pairing: hockey jock Mark x female reader

WC: 4k+

Smut Warning: heavy dubcon/noncon elements (don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable), cheating, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, degradation

a/n: Mark is an asshole and you’ve been warned.

It took you more time than needed to realize why Jeno wanted you to be as far away from Mark as possible. He’s a menace to society, and a dangerously hot one.

You stood in the kitchen, mixing vodka and soda together for another drink. Jeno was at the pool, having fun with Haechan, Jaemin and Jisung. Johnny, Taeyong, Jaehyun and Yuta were outside, too, and they seemed to get along pretty well without the tension of the captains whenever they’re six-foot away from each other. You smiled and waved at Jeno when he caught your gaze through the glass door.

Averting your eyes, you downed the liquid in your red Solo cup before your boyfriend noticed how distressed you were at the sight of Mark sucking a chick’s mouth on the couch while she’s grinding his clothed dick like a bitch in heat.

The match had ended with a tie. Jeno would have lost if Mark hadn't missed that last shot. You’d been restless from the beginning, not knowing what end the championship would come to. Certainly, there would be a rematch another day, but you’re safe from the downfall of their bet for now.

But did you want ‘safe’?

With the alcohol buzzing in your system, the sight of Mark lewdly licking and sucking that girl’s tongue started to get too much for you. Images of you in that position crossed your mind. How you would run your fingers through his hair, how his hands would grab your ass instead of hers, how addictive he would taste.

You had been so busy lost in your train of thought that you didn't notice the group of kids stumbling towards you until it was too late. One of them tripped over your foot and before you knew it, the t-shirt you wore was completely soaked in beer. The kid squeaked out an apology before the group scurried away. You looked down at your shirt and groaned. There was no way you could just stand around here like this, not smelling like a distillery. Your only option was to find something to change into.

Pushing through the crowd of teenagers you made your way upstairs. Finally finding an empty bedroom, closing the door behind you. You looked around the room, taking in the mess of beer cans and empty cigarette packs. The room smelled of sweat and cigarettes, which strangely wasn't off-putting. This is the fraternity house of Mark and his team, so you really have no idea whose room you’re in.

Your eyes landed on the closet and you walked over, throwing the doors open. You pulled out a black Mötley Crüe shirt and shrugged, it would do. Whoever owns this probably wouldn’t mind. Pulling your own shirt over your head, you tossed it onto the dresser before pulling his shirt on. It was a little big on you, but at least it was dry...and it smelled weirdly nice. You pulled it to your nose and breathed in. Expensive cologne mixed with tobacco. A voice from behind you startled you out of your thoughts.

"You're going to have to give that back."

Spinning around, you found Mark standing in the doorway looking you over. How he had managed to enter the room without you hearing him, you weren't sure.

"Oh…sorry, I just needed to borrow it. Some idiot spilled beer on me. I'll wash it and send it back."

Mark just stared at you, arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame. You shuttered under his gaze before you stepped forward toward the door.

"Anyway, I should get back out there."

He made no effort to move out of your way, instead leaning more into it, his gaze still fixed on you.

"Mark? Can I go please?"

A smirk spread across his lips. “Do you really want to? I saw the way you were looking at me out there."

You raised an eyebrow, taking a step back and looking at him. "I was checking on Jeno."

Mark scoffed, dropping his arms to his sides and stepping towards you, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Last time I checked, Jeno wasn't on my face, which was exactly where your eyes seemed to be fixed every time I looked your way."

"I…I was…well it's hard not to look at you when you're putting on such a big show out there."

He took another step towards you, causing you to step back away from him. "Oh yeah? You liked that?"

"Didn't say I liked it. I really have to go."

You stepped to the side and headed towards the door. Just as you reached for the knob, a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist hard.

"I didn't say you could go yet."

You tried to pull your arm away but his grip just tightened as he pulled you away from the door, shoving you towards the bed. "Mark, what the hell?"

"Oh don't play shy now, this is what you wanted isn't it?"

"You're drunk. Come on, let's go back out there."

You tried once again to push past the male, this time to have him stop you with an arm. He spun you to face him, grabbing your jaw roughly and making you look into his eyes.

"Don't think I don't see it, princess. The way you look at me in class. The eyes you make at me across the room at parties just like this. You want me, you just don't want your boyfriend to know his girl has fallen for the bad boy."

Shit. Had you really made your attraction that evident?

Truth was, you’d always had this huge feeling for Mark long before you started dating Jeno. Almost everyone on your campus knew Mark, and when your freshman year began, he was the first thing to catch your attention. You remembered clearly that he was leaning against a tree, sucking on a cigarette while you were eating your lunch on the grass, unknowingly close to where he was. Only when a girl passed by, flaunting her next-to-nothing clothes as she purred, “Looking uber-sexy, Mark Lee'', did you notice the notorious hockey captain. He then unleashed a rogue grin and a provocative whistle that made every girl who happened to be around whipped their head in his direction. You almost choked on your food there, as he was the sexiest man you’d ever laid your eyes on. Almost thankful that he didn’t notice you and terrified that you’d embarrass yourself if he ever looked at you.

It was at one of Mark’s games when you met Jeno. You were shocked that a man like him would be interested in you. To say he’s out of your league would be an understatement. One thing led to another, after a few weeks, he asked you to be his girlfriend and you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Jeno was kind, caring, and good-looking.

Thinking about it made you mad at yourself. You had a boyfriend that every girl could only wish for, and you’re still thinking about another man, who’s obviously a walking red flag. 

"Mark, let me go, I need to go check on…."

Before you could get another word out, his lips were pressed harshly to yours. The kiss was sloppy, and tasted like beer and cigarettes, but it still sparked something inside of you. He broke from the kiss, still gripping your chin tightly.

"Now you're going to shut up and let me do what I want with you."

"I…."

"Are you saying no?"

You should. You should say no, go back out to the party. You’d go home with Jeno, have dinner together, sleep on the same bed and forget about everything that happened today. But your mouth seems to run on its own.

"N-no…but you're drunk…"

"I saw the look on your face when it was a tie." He stares at you in the eyes, holding your gaze. “You look almost…disappointed.”

He pushed you backward towards his bed, and you let him. As you reached the end of the bed, you fell down onto your back, eyes fixated on the ceiling. This felt so wrong, yet so right. He dropped to his knees at the end of the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs. They came to rest at the waistband of your pants. Your stomach was turning. There were so many problems with this. Mark was your boyfriend’s worst enemy, and even worse he was a fucking asshole. Your breath stuttered at the feeling of his hands on your legs. The pressure over the denim causes you to prop yourself up on your elbows and catch his eyes.

“Mark, please,” your words come out shakily. “This is wrong. Don’t make me do this.”

He ignored your plea, a wolfish grin plastered on his face. “You’re right, this is wrong. But I think you want ‘wrong’.”

He brought one hand up to your chest, pushing you back down to the bed. You let him, without an ounce of resistance. His hands moved back to your waistband, making quick work of your button and zipper. He pulled your jeans off in one swift motion before tossing them to the side.

You squirmed against the bed, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and trying your best to cover the lacy pink panties you had chosen to wear today.

“Such a pretty girl,” he chuckled at the sight. “But a really bad one, lying to everyone. Pretend to be a doting girlfriend when you’re nothing but a slut.”

He slid a hand between your legs, almost amused by your lack of restraint. You said no, but you made no real effort to get away from him. "Hmm, seems like someone is a little more eager than she wants to let on. Your panties are soaked for me already."

Whining a little, your arms came up, forearms wrapping over your face to try and hide yourself from the truth of it all. That Mark Lee was making you wetter than you'd ever been before.

Your legs shut around his wrist now, a feigned attempt at reinforcing that he was the disgusting one. He was beyond amused at this point. Grabbing your legs, he pried your thighs apart again and brought his face between your legs, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck, you smell so sweet."

Bringing his hand close to your clothed core, he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side. "Look at you. So fucking wet. Need to taste you."

You huffed out, knowing there was no way of really getting out of…this. Whatever this was.

“I…fuck, fine. But you’re not…. you’re not fucking me." You decided in a weak attempt.

You were panting a bit now, shrieking a little when he practically yanked your legs apart and shoved his face so close to your core. “Don’t...o-oh my god..”

And then his hands were on you, cool air causing your entire body to erupt in goosebumps.

“I...shit…”

Mark chuckled, your words just egging him on. Grabbing the top of your panties, he pulled them down, giving himself full access to your wet hole. "So fuckin' pretty."

His hand moved to spread your lips apart so he could get a perfect view. "Fuck."

Mark was practically drooling at this point. He almost came off as more needy than you. But he wasn't the one laying on a near stranger's bed, practically dripping. His free hand found its way to where you needed him, even though you would never admit it. Before you could even try to protest, his middle finger slipped inside of you. It was all happening so quickly. You could have sworn you didn’t want this. Could swear you're a good person, a faithful girlfriend. You're not currently in Mark Lee's bed, wearing his shirt and nothing else. His hands were enough to bring you back to reality. Your hands twisted into his bedsheets below you. The scent of cigarettes permeated your lungs and sent a rush of slickness between your legs.

“Y-you’re...We need t-to stop Mark. I’m… fuck!”

Mark's eyes were blown with lust, all the times he'd thought of this exact situation. You, Jeno’s girlfriend, in his bed. Let him do whatever he wanted to you. He could feel his cock start to throb in his pants. Sliding another finger inside of you, he slowly started to pump them in and out. Your slick completely soaked his hand, and soon the stubble that adorned his face as he leaned in and took your clit into his mouth.

“Oh my god!”

You screamed out the moment his lips touched you. That was it, you were a goner. Hips rolled back, a half-assed attempt at seeming to pull away from his touch. Choked out moans giving away your true wants and desires. Your body admitting to all those nights you wished your hand was replaced by his. And now, all those filthy, perverted dreams were coming true. Your eyes started to water over, a lump growing in your throat now before a sob rippled through the room… you'd begun to cry. Overwhelmed by the shame, and how fucking good it felt.

“D….don’t stop, please.”

He smirked against your clit. He'd won. He knew you'd give in. His tongue swirled around your clit as his fingers started pumping into you harder and faster. If there was one thing Mark was, it was a giver. Before he went any further, he wanted to make sure you came for him. He made it his mission to make you come undone with just his mouth and hands. You could already feel it starting…that aching burn in the very pit of your abdomen. Body flushing hot and eyes fluttering shut. Feeling overwhelmed already from the few minutes with the blonde between your legs. How long has it been? Three weeks? A month and a half? A long time. It’s been a long fucking time. A shaking hand inched down into the soft mass of loose curls. Your nails weaving through till they scratch at his scalp.

“Fuck…shit, Mark…”

Your hips began to achingly slowly rock against his face. Minute movements that were just enough to amplify that growing high. He could feel your walls getting tighter around his fingers, a telling sign of your impending orgasm. Not even a full ten minutes, he was impressed. Hooking his fingers against the spongy spot deep inside of you, he started sucking on your clit a little harder, his tongue flicking back and forth as he did so.

“I’m…m…Mark...m’gonna..*”

You were so close, so fucking close. At this point your own hands were betraying you…trying to pull his mouth closer despite it being physically impossible. Your crying never ceased, only slowed down to occasional whimpers and sobs while tears slipped down your cheeks. Mark pulled off your clit with a wet pop, just long enough to whisper.

"Cum for me." Then he attached himself to your clit again, fingers starting to brutally assault your sweet spot.

“Fuuckkk! Shit! Mark!"

That was it, your vision went blurry and a mix between a sob and a moan ripped through your throat as you climaxed around his fingers. Thighs coming up around his ears and caging the poor bastard between them. Chest heaving and falling rapidly as you attempt to come down from your high.

He pulled off of your clit, sliding his fingers out of you. Prying your legs off of him, he sat up and looked down at you. "Look at you. You're a damn mess and I'm not even done yet."

Grabbing you by the chin, he leaned in and licked a tear off of your cheek. "Poor thing, already fucked out from just my fingers. Now the real fun begins."

Grabbing your hand, he brought it to his crotch. His cock strained painfully against his jeans. "See what you've done to me? Now, you've gotta fix it."

His grip on your chin pulled your attention back. A shocked gasp leaving parted lips when you felt his tongue drag across your cheek, flinching back a bit at the hot, wet streak left behind.

Unknowingly, you pulled your hand back from his own but stopped when you realized just how hard he is. “Wait..What? No, we’re not doing this.”

"Oh? You thought this was just about you? Silly girl." He smirked, letting go of your hand to move down to his belt buckle. "You think you can just look like that and I'm not going to want to fuck you?"

He quickly undid his belt buckle, and then the button on his pants before he kicked them off, leaving him in his boxers. The outline of his length didn't leave much to the imagination. He was huge to say the least, something he prided himself on.

A look of concern washed over your face. This was really happening wasn’t it. If Jeno found out, you’d be beyond fucked.

“Looking like what? It’s not my fault some drunk douche spilled his drink all over me. I didn’t exactly bring a backup…. change of clothes…” Snarky words slowed to nothing as your eyes trained on his hands, working rapidly at his belt and jeans till he was in just a thin pair of boxers.

“Shit..Mark, I don’t think.."

"Roll over and get on your hands and knees. Now."

Your protests fell on deaf ears. His barked command made your thighs squeeze together. Swallowing hard and shifting up onto your arms so you could roll over. Ass pushing high into the air now and shivering at the shift in temperature. Mark took this opportunity to rid himself of his remaining piece of clothing, tossing them to the floor.

"Good girl." He mumbled as he climbed up the bed, positioning himself on his knees behind you. "I don't have any condoms, don't worry, I'll pull out."

Though the tone of his voice told you he had no intention of doing so. But before you could say anything, he was sliding the tip of his cock between your lips, collecting your juices before stopping at your entrance. Then he pushed inside of you, he gave your ass a hard smack.

“Wait, what? No you can’t without a–fuck!”

Before there was any real time to get away, he was already pushing into you. Feeling like he was splitting you apart at the seams. “Shit...shit, fuck it hurts!” Despite your whines of pain, the harsh slap resulted in your body pushing back involuntarily against his own. Fists twisting in the sheets as tears begin to soak the mattress.

"You can take it."

He pushed deeper and deeper inside of you until his hips sat flush against your ass. Giving it another harsh slap, his hands moved to your hips. His fingertips dug in so hard you knew they'd leave bruises behind. Pulling all the way back, he slammed deep into you again. His head fell back in pleasure at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him.

"Fuck, your pussy is so perfect. Should have just done this long ago."

It wasn’t long before your forearms gave out underneath you. Upper body shaking as you collapsed against the fabric. Knees digging harshly into the mattress on either side of Mark’s waist while trying so hard to keep your lower half up. Despite your constant protests, you wanted to hear him call you a good girl again, praise you. Tell you that you make him feel good. His words were enough to gather another rush of slickness between your legs, groaning quietly and burying your face into the smoke-permeated sheets to muffle the sounds. That was useless though, the perverted noises of skin hitting skin and squelching from your near sinful arousal was probably enough to tell the entire town what was going on behind that closed door. All while your boyfriend was busy partying outside.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” He whispers darkly into your ear. ““I’d purposely missed that shot. Winning is too easy, and it feels like you’re doing this because you have to.”

A rough slap landed on your ass and you whined. “As much as I like seeing you helpless, I love making you beg more.”

He continued pounding into you. Grunts and soft moans falling from his lips. As you collapsed onto the bed, he reached down and grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you back against him. "You're such a little slut. Just letting me fuck you, not even putting up a fight. You like this don't you? Like the idea of me fucking you with so many people out there." With your body pulled close against his own, he leaned in and bit down hard on your shoulder. "Everyone is going to know just who makes you feel this good."

Scream ripped through the room at the sharp tug of your hair. Head falling back against his shoulder now and leaving the vast expanse of your neck free to his assault. Hands scrambled back, latching onto his forearm and hip to try and ground yourself. Though his taunts were enough to push you deeper and deeper into that deliciously fuzzy headspace.

“Maybe I should call Jeno, hm? Let him see how much of a cheating slut you are.”

Your eyes rolled back, jaw going slack when that all too familiar burning sensation began building up once again. His words only made your pussy clench more, tingled with desire.

“Please, Mark…I’m close…”

Mark chuckled darkly. "Oh yea? Already gonna cum for me again? Such an easy little whore aren't you?"

His hand snaked around and grabbed your throat.

"I'm not a…"

Your words were cut off by a choked out moan as the male grabbed at your throat. Rough fingers against the soft skin enough to make me desperately whimper — actually beginning to grind back against him now and actively chasing my own climax.

"Say it. Say 'I love your cock, Mark.'"

His thrusts were growing sloppier, a telltale sign that his own orgasm was approaching fast.

“L-love your cock, Mark, love having you inside me. Splitting me open, need you all the time…always need you. Dream about you Mark.”

The rambles continued, eyelids fluttering and swollen lips continuing to spew out all of your secret desires.

That was enough to push him over the edge. "Fuck. T-take my cum like the little slut you are."

Bottoming out inside of you, you could feel his cock throbbing as his warm cum filled your hole. His hand let go of your throat and moved between your legs, toying with your clit while still buried inside of you.

"Go ahead, cum for me again and then we're all done."

You whimpered almost pathetically at the way his grip tightened on your hip when he came. Mouth falling open in a long, languid moan that quickly shifted into nearly pained cries as rough fingertips found your sensitive bud. Hips jerked back away from his touch but of course, your body betrayed you. Walls clenching around his length, a filthy mix of fluids slipped out between your thighs as you came hard around his length. Quiet sobs falling from quivering lips and your shoulders and hips occasionally convulsing from the overwhelming stimulation.

Finally Mark fell onto the bed next to you, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked up at you.

"Guess I forgot to pull out." He motioned between your legs, where he watched the mixture of fluids drip down your leg.

"I'll get you a Plan B or something. Don't want any little shits running around."

Sitting up, he reached for his pants. "We should do this again. Don't worry, Jeno doesn't have to know."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bedroom door swung open.

"Hey, I...."

Jeno paused, taking in the scene. His expression instantly turned cold and hard. Mark turned to you and shrugged, an infuriating smirk tugged his lips.

"Oops. Guess he knows now."