#he's done some crazy (filthy) shit... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaysbaefie · 2 months ago

Text

your honour | psh

synopsis: in which you push the judge too far, you learn that actions have consequences—and he always delivers the sentence himself.

genre: judge au

pairing: judge!sunghoon x troubled!reader

warnings: meandom!sunghoon, cold!sunghoon, horndog!reader, manhandling, cornering, degrading (holy fuck sm degrading), crazy dirty talk, gagging with fingers, hair pulling, choking, biting, spanking ass + pussy, rough p in v (unprotected), clit rubbing, creampie, bondage, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial and no aftercare. think that’s it…

wc: 6.3k

a/n: this is so filthy!!! yall im on a plot burnout i have so many ideas i just can’t bring myself to write a proper full length fic :[ anyways… notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy <3

═══════

your arms are crossed over your chest like armor. it's not foolproof—your wrists are still cuffed, and the bruises from last week's chase are still turning the edges of your skin a dull yellow with splotches of blue. you hold yourself steady anyway, like you've already survived worse.

you have.

the courtroom is too quiet for your taste. sterile walls, tired faces, and that rusted old flag in the corner drooping like it's had one too many years of watching justice be handed out unevenly.

there's a bailiff at your side, fingers twitching near their belt, as if they think you might leap over the railing and bolt. you don't blame them. you've done worse for less serious crimes.

but right now, you're not thinking about running—not even close.

you're staring straight at him.

park sunghoon.

honorable judge. esteemed in the district. untouchable. 'not for long,' you think to yourself, a small smirk gracing your lips as you hold your gaze.

his nameplate gleams under the artificial lighting, but it's not as cold as the look in his eyes when he glances down at you. black rob, pale hands, pristine posture like he's never once had a bad day, or at least never shown it.

he speaks your name like it tastes bitter in his mouth, his plump lips pursing in distaste.

"theft. trespassing. property damage," sunghoon reads, flipping through the paperwork like it's boring him. "and now contempt of court. again."

your smirk is the only weapon you have left, "that one wasn't on purpose."

his gaze doesn't flinch, "you were caught lighting a cigarette in the bathroom during recess."

"wasn't lit," you say coolly, his gaze now piercing into you. "i didn't even get to spark it," you almost whine out.

"because the officer stopped you."

"because the lighter was out of fluid," you shoot back, offended that he'd think that you'd let some officer stop you from lighting a spark.

for a moment, you think you see something twitch in the corner of his mouth—amusement? disbelief? but it's gone before it settles. he leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, voice clipped, "you don't seem to take this seriously."

you stare him down, your eyebrows raised, "you don't seem to live in the same world as the rest of us."

sunghoon says nothing at first, just studies you, eyes narrowing the longer the silence drags. he looks at you like you're a puzzle he didn't expect to come across and now he's trying to decide whether to solve you or break you apart and pack you away.

finally, he speaks, "given the repeated offences and your inability to cooperate with court proceedings, you are hereby found guilty."

your chest tightens—not because you're surprised. you knew this was coming, it was always going to come to this.

"you're to pay a fine of $5,000"

you snort, loud and messy which causes sunghoon to look at you with what you could only assume was disgust, "you might as well say 5 million. i don't have shit, your honour." your voice drips with mockery on that last part, but it's not like you can help it. titles mean nothing to people like you. not when the system's always rigged the same way.

sunghoon doesn't react the way you expect. no fury, no raised voice. instead, he rests his chin against his hand and stares down at you, thoughtful, composed—calculating.

"then perhaps we can make alternate arrangements."

you narrow your eyes. "like what? community service? sweeping the courthouse floors?" you had heard it all before, and you'd be damned if you did any of it.

he ignores your sarcasm. "i'm offering you a deal." you don't trust deals, especially not from men like him. but you're listening.

"you're clearly resourceful. difficult, but clever." his eyes scan your face like he's making a mental file, "if you truly cannot pay, then you'll work it off. under my supervision."

you blink up at him, dumbfounded, "what?"

sunghoon doesn't smile, doesn't even shift, "you'll report here. every morning, 6 am sharp. you'll handle clerical tasks, sorting files, transcriptions. menial work, mostly. i'll be watching."

you lean forward, just a little. "and if i say no?"

his voice is ice cold, "then you'll serve time."

you flinch at that, prison isn't unfamiliar—but it's worse this time. you're older now, tired and you know the kind of people they throw you in with.

your jaw clenches, "this some kind of power trip for you?"

his eyes glint, unreadable. "no. but it might be one for you. if you can handle being civil."

you hate him for that. for the way his words crawl under your skin, settle in your ribs like they belong there. you hate him for being calm, for not flinching when you push back. for the way he makes you feel cornered even when you're standing tall.

"fine," you spit. "i'll take your little deal."

sunghoon nods, finally. bangs the gavel once sending shocks through your body.

"court adjourned."

but as you're escorted out, you catch the way he watches you. slow, deliberate. like he's already plotting what to do with a fire like yours.

and you know this is far from over.

═══════

6 am comes fast, you show up at 6:17am.

your boots echo too loud on the marble floors of the courthouse as you stroll in like you own the place. hoodie unzipped, hands in your pockets, chewing gum with all the arrogance of someone who knows they're untouchable—or just wants to see how far they can push before they aren't.

sunghoon is already waiting, of course. seated behind his desk in his chambers, reading over a case file, all rigid posture and starched cuffs. he doesn't look up when you enter, but you feel the chill in the air shift the moment he registers your presence.

you lean against the doorframe, pop your gum, and smile sweetly, "morning, your honour."

he finally looks up, no smile—no greeting. just a flat, "you're late."

you shrug, "public transportation's a bitch. and my ankle monitor doesn't exactly come with wings."

sunghoon closes the file slowly, deliberately, "your sentence began at 6 am sharp. not whenever you decide to roll out of bed."

you wander further into his office, dragging your fingers across the edge of his polished desk. "well, maybe you should've sentenced me to something more exciting. i'd be more motivated to be punctual." you snicker softly, your fingers brushing against some books before landing on a small statue.

he doesn't rise, doesn't react. just watches you with that unreadable stare, like he's already dissecting your every move.

"sit."

you raise an eyebrow before looking around the room, no chair in sight, "where?"

he gestures with his pen to a wooden chair shoved against the back wall. no cushion. no wheels. no dignity.

you scoff, "wow. luxury accommodations."

"sit," he says again, this time lower—sharper.

you do—but not before you tip the chair slightly and drag it across the floor, the screech of wood against tile sounding loud and obnoxious. you plop down and swing your legs up onto the edge of his desk like it's your living room.

"so," you say, folding your arms behind your head. "what soul-crushing task do i get to do first? file your fan mail? shine your gavel?"

sunghoon doesn't flinch. doesn't blink. just reaches over and, without warning, shoves your boots off his desk with one smooth motion. hard enough to jolt the whole chair, causing you to hold onto the desk for support.

you laugh in surprise before masking it quickly with a silly remark, "ooh. touchy."

he leans forward now, voice calm but laced with threat, "i don't care how you've gotten away with things in the past. in this room, under my supervision, you follow."

"or what?" you bite, eyes narrowing. "you gonna slap another fine on me? lock me up again?"

"no," he murmurs, his eyes not leaving yours. "i'll break you without ever lifting a finger."

you go quiet for the first time because for some strange reason, you believe him.

but that doesn't mean you're going to make it easy.

by 10 am, you've misfiled at least four court documents on purpose, accidentally-on-purpose spilled coffee on one, and whistled a highly inappropriate tune every time someone passes the open door.

sunghoon doesn't snap. he doesn't yell, but the tightness in his jaw gets worse. his sleeves are rolled to his elbows now, veins taut, hand gripped around his pen like he's imagining stabbing something with it. you allow your gaze to wander over him, relishing in his cold presence as you eye-fuck him to oblivion.

you stretch lazily in your seat across the room, flipping through a file upside down just to be difficult.

"you always this fun at parties?" you ask, eyes lazily scanning the document.

"you always this exhausting when you're sober?"

you grin, "you should've sentenced me to something harder. i get off on discipline."

he finally looks up. eyes dark and voice low.

"is that what this is? acting out so someone will finally put you in your place?"

you blink, not expecting that.

sunghoon stands now, slow and deliberate, and crosses the room to tower over where you're still slouched in your chair. he leans down just enough to make your breath hitch, his minty fresh cologne invading your senses—sending your body into overdrive.

"you want someone to punish you, is that it?" he says, voice barely above a whisper. "because you're skating dangerously close to contempt again."

you swallow harshly but you hold the smirk, even if it's faltering, "you threatening me, your honour?"

his lips twitch, not a smile—something colder.

"no," he says. "just waiting for you to slip. and when you do—when all that bratty bravado cracks, you'll beg for someone like me to be the one holding the leash."

your throat goes dry.

he straightens and turns away, already done with you for the moment, and you're left there blinking like the ground shifted under your feet.

this was supposed to be fun. a game.

but now? now you think he's playing back.

and he plays dirty.

═══════

you should've gone home.

you were dismissed hours ago. the office lights are off, most of the staff gone, echoing laughter and jangling keys disappearing down the hallway.

but you stayed.

because you wanted to see what would happen if you crossed the line, alone—with him.

sunghoon's still in his chambers with his door cracked, light spilling out in a narrow slice across the floor. you lean in the doorway without knocking, arms folded, teeth sunk into the inside of your cheek just to keep from smiling too wide.

he doesn't look up.

"still working?" you ask, voice low and sugary.

he doesn't respond at first. then, without looking away from his file, "if you're still here, it's because you want something. so say it, and make it fast." you saunter in, drag your nails across his bookshelf, pull a file halfway out and shove it back in crooked just to be annoying, "just wanted to chat. you seem lonely."

his jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise—doesn't yell. instead, he sets his pen down, lifting his eyes to you slowly, deliberately—and lets out a low breath through his nose.

"you're a desperate little thing, aren't you?"

you blink, "excuse me?"

he stands.

you don't move. just watch him stalk forward, quiet, composed, eyes cutting into you like scalpels.

he stops inches from you, doesn't touch. doesn't lean in.

but his voice? razor-edged filth.

"you dress like a brat, talk like a slut, act out like a girl who's been begging for someone to spit in her mouth and call her worthless." your breath catches and your legs almost give out.

"you're not here to talk," he continues, voice lower, crueler. "you're here because no one's ever put you in your place and you're too much of a mess to admit you want it."

you flinch, lips parting, "you don't even know me—"

"i know everything," he cuts in sharply. "i've read your records. i've seen the trail of damage you leave behind just to get someone to notice you. daddy issues, authority issues, zero impulse control. you want men to hate you just so they'll finally touch you."

you gasp, cheeks flushing hot—but not with shame.

with need.

because he's right. because no one's ever talked to you like this.

"look at you," he sneers. "breathing heavy already, shifting your legs like you're not soaking through your little panties right now. you came in here thinking you could bait me with your bratty mouth, hoping i'd snap and pin you against the wall like some filthy fantasy you've cooked up in that head of yours."

you say nothing. you can't.

"but i'm not like the boys you fuck behind bars or in alleyways," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "i don't play with trash."

you whimper.

his smile is slow and cruel, "oh? that got you wet, didn't it?" your thighs squeeze together instinctively, and he laughs—cold, low, unamused.

"pathetic. dripping just from being spoken to like the little cum-dump you are."

you try to speak, but your mouth won't work. you're breathing too fast, too shallow, clit throbbing through your jeans, nipples hard under your hoodie, and he hasn't even touched you.

he leans in, barely. his cool breath fanned against your ear causing you to shiver, "you'll come back tomorrow, won't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "all sweet and mouthy again, hoping this is the day I finally bend you over my desk and fuck your brains out like the filthy little whore you pretend not to be."

you whine—a soft, needy sound that makes his eyes darken just a little.

then he pulls back, his hands stay folded behind him. he steps past you, calm as ever, voice low and bored. "go home. you're dripping on my floor."

═══════

you start showing up on time.

5:59 am, hair damp from a rushed shower, hoodie half-zipped, eyes sharp with purpose. you slide into the office like you own the place—and every day, you find him already there, perfect as ever. sleeves rolled up, tie tight, reading over a file like he didn't just spend the last twelve hours thinking about the way you moaned for him without him even touching you.

you don't speak much now, you don't have to.

the first time it happens, it's barely a whisper of a moment—you walk past him to grab a stack of paperwork, and your hip brushes his hand resting on the edge of the desk. soft. slow. deliberate. and you don't flinch, don't apologize.

you smile.

his pen halts mid-sentence.

you don't look back.

the second time, you lean in close to hand him a stapled report—closer than you need to, your fingers brushing over his when he takes it from you. you let your thumb drag just barely over his knuckle before pulling away.

he doesn't speak, but his jaw's clenched so tight you hear it pop.

the third time, it's worse. you're leaning over his desk, too far, pretending to scan the page while your hips subtly roll back, brushing against where he's standing behind you. it's slow—not full contact but just enough pressure to feel the line of his thigh brush your ass.

you feel him freeze. you breathe out, soft and sweet, "oops."

he doesn't move. doesn't even blink. you can feel his restraint like a second heat, burning against your skin.

you straighten up with a grin and saunter off and for the rest of the day, you can feel his eyes on your back like a loaded weapon.

═══════

you live for the control—the knowledge that you're the one unraveling him now. no chains, no cuffs, no cell. just you and your filthy little grin in his clean little world.

every time your hand lingers too long on his wrist when passing him a pen. every time your fingers brush his thigh when you "accidentally" drop a file. every time you stretch beside him, moaning faintly when you reach your arms overhead like you're trying to kill him with your spine alone.

he doesn't say a word.

not one curse, not one command. but every breath he takes feels heavier. every time he adjusts his cuffs, it's slower. rougher. the one time he looks at you, really looks, while you're standing by the window with the light catching your smug little smirk and you swear there's murder in his eyes.

or maybe lust, or both.

you bite your lip and wink.

he goes back to reading but his knuckles are white around the edge of the page.

you don't stop, of course you don't. you know he's cracking. you just want to see how far before he breaks.

═══════

you don't knock today.

you walk in like always—mouth full of gum, hair half done, smirk locked and loaded.

but the outfit? oh, this is new.

short skirt, barely mid-thigh. skin-tight, no stockings. no shame.

your blouse clings to your chest with every breath, just one wrong move from spilling open—and you bend to pick up a file by the door the second you walk in, as if you didn't plan the whole motion.

you make sure your ass is pointed directly at his chair, you hear nothing for a beat. then the sound of a pen snapping in his hand.

you bite your lip to keep from smiling. "good morning, your honour," you say sweetly, rising slow, letting your tits bounce just enough. "got something for you to sign."

he doesn't answer. doesn't look up. he just sets the ruined pen down, stands in silence, and walks to the far cabinet—jaw sharp, back stiff.

he doesn't speak for an hour, but you don't stop.

you lean across the desk to file something, letting your breasts nearly spill out. you sit on the edge of the table too close, too comfortable, skirt hiked up high on your thighs. you cross and uncross your legs too slow. you sigh every time you shift, like the fabric's clinging to places it shouldn't.

and the worst part? you don't even look at him anymore.

you just know. you know he's watching. you feel his silence like a leash. and still, you test it.

again. and again.

until—

"shut the door."

you freeze, glancing over to see that sunghoon's still behind the desk, hands folded, gaze pinned directly to your face for the first time all day.

there's no emotion in his tone, just something dark.

you step back slowly, click the door shut.

"lock it."

you do, your pulse skips.

he nods once toward the chair in front of his desk, "sit."

you obey—this time, no sass, no roll of the eyes. he watches you for a long, heavy moment. then: "stand up."

you blink, but you rise. he leans back in his chair, eyes raking over you with undisguised disgust. "this what you wear to court? no wonder you can't stay out of handcuffs."

you shiver when his voice drops an octave, "i've let you act out. walk around my office like it's a runway. rub your filthy little body against me like a dog in heat. but today?" his tongue clicks, "today, you came here begging."

you bite your lip and he notices. "don't even deny it," he sneers. "you dressed like a fucking pornstar and shoved your tits in my face three times before lunch."

you blink fast, thighs press together. "you want attention so bad," he whispers, voice cold and cruel. "you'd crawl under this desk and suck cock just to feel useful for once."

you whimper causing his eyes to narrow "pathetic."

you take a shaky step forward, voice too soft. "so do something about it."

"no." the word is a bullet. sharp. final. you flinch, "what?"

"i'm not giving you what you want," he says, standing now—towering over you, eyes blazing. "not until you ask." you swallow, your breath stutters, "...i just did—" "not like that," he leans in close, still not touching, his breath ghosting your cheek. "i want to hear you beg. properly. filthy. on your knees if you have to."

your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

"c'mon," he hisses. "say it. say you're a dirty little whore who wore this skirt just to get her judge to ruin her."

your knees go weak.

"say you've been dripping for me for weeks. say you need to be put in your place. beg me to spit in your mouth and call you mine." you nearly drop right there while he watches you—smug, furious, and impossibly composed.

"but you won't," he whispers. "because you're a coward. just a brat with no bite."

you snap, you sink to your knees with your palms on your thighs. skirt riding high, head tilted up with your tongue caught between your teeth.

"please," you whisper, cheeks hot. "i wore it for you. i wanted you to see what you've been missing. i wanted you to lose control. i wanted to feel owned. like a fucking toy." his nostrils flare and you crawl forward. "i've been dripping for you since the first time you called me worthless," you breathe out shamelessly. "you don't have to fuck me. just—just say i'm yours."

his hand twitches at his side but still he doesn't touch you, he just smiles—slow and dangerous. "you're finally learning," he murmurs. "maybe tomorrow i'll reward you."

and he walks out, leaves you on the floor—aching, wrecked and obedient.

═══════

you show up like nothing happened, tight dress, high heels and no bra. you don't even bring a file, you just lean against the edge of his desk like you're here to ruin him.

sunghoon doesn't look up, not right away. but when he does—it's over.

his eyes flick up to your chest, then back to your mouth, and the moment your lips part to say something smart, he moves.

fast.

the chair scrapes back with a violent screech. you barely have time to gasp before he grabs your wrist and slams you against the desk, stomach flat against the wood, cheek pressed down by the weight of his hand. you yelp, breath knocked out of you—but it's not pain. it's heat, flooding between your legs in a dizzying wave.

"this what you wanted?" sunghoon growls, voice raw at your ear. "me snapping like some animal? you filthy, needy, shameless little—fuck." he yanks your arms behind your back, pins both wrists with one big hand and grinds you into the desk. "look at you squirming and wet. couldn't go one more day without getting manhandled, huh?"

you whine out when his free hand slides up your spine, griping the back of your neck, forcing your head to the side so your cheek stays plastered to the wood. your eyes snap open in shock when he pushes his thick digits into your mouth, forcing your mouth full.

"you've been begging for this," he snarls. "dressing like a whore. moaning when i speak. bending over like you want to get fucked in front of the whole court." you can barely breathe—your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

he laughs—low and cruel, "what's wrong? mouth finally too full of regret?" he spreads your legs with his knee, lets his thigh press up between them while his grip on your wrists tightens.

you're soaked. dripping straight through your panties, probably smearing slick across his desk — and he feels it. his thigh twitches and he groans. "pathetic," he growls. "you're soaking my leg and i haven't even touched your cunt."

you whimper into the desk, legs trembling, thighs trying to grind down on his thigh—but he pulls it back with a smirk. "you think you run this game," he whispers in your ear. "you think a few bratty looks and slutty outfits make you powerful."

he yanks your head back by the hair and forces you to look at him—eyes wild, chest rising, jaw clenched.

"you don't run shit here." his fingers trail down your jaw, not gentle—gripping your face like he wants to crush it, "you're mine."

you blink fast. your lips part as he finally removes his fingers from your mouth.

"say it."

your voice shakes. "i'm—i'm yours."

"again."

"i'm yours."

"louder."

"i'm fucking yours," you scream—thighs shaking, cunt pulsing, wrists still pinned.

he stares down at you—flushed, dripping, ruined against his desk. then he leans in, lips just brushing your ear, "you're not cumming until i say so."

you whimper in response. "and when you do," he breathes, "you're gonna thank me for breaking you."

he steps back and lets you collapse to your knees.

undone.

and he leaves you there, again.

═══════

you should've ran.

the look on his face the second you step into his office—eyes cold, mouth tight, sleeves rolled up like he's about to sentence you to death, should've sent you crawling.

but you don't run, you smirk—and that's all it takes. he grabs you before the door even clicks shut—slams you against it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other squeezing your throat until your breath stutters.

"tired of you strutting around like you're untouchable," he hisses. "you want to be fucked so bad? fine. i'll fuck you like the filthy little criminal you are."

you whimper when his grip tightens—then he spins you, throws you against his desk. your hips crash into the edge, papers scattering, your hands scrambling for balance. he's behind you again, dragging your skirt up so high it tears, yanking your panties down and tossing them like trash.

you feel his palm ghost over your ass and you can't help but push yourself back against him in excitement. "already soaked," he mutters, disgusted. "fucking slut."

crack.

you yelp—the first spank makes you jolt. second makes you moan. third has your knees buckling. he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, hissing in your ear, "say thank you."

"th-thank you," you pant.

crack.

"louder."

"thank you!"

he pulls your head back harder, exposing your throat—then his mouth is on you, biting, not kissing, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin until you cry out. sunghoon groans when he feels you twitch violently in his hold, his teeth scraping against your neck as he continues to leave violent splotches on your skin.

"that's right," he breathes. "cry for me. scream if you need to. no one's coming for you." his hand slips between your legs, finally, and slaps your sopping cunt. you wail in response, your legs giving up on you as you rely on the desk in front of you and sunghoon as support.

"needy," he sneers. "dripping all over my desk like a goddamn animal."

his fingers slide through the mess—not inside, just over your clit, slow, taunting strokes that make you tremble, "you wanna cum?"

"yes," you gasp. "yes please—"

he pulls away, completely.

you sob—back arching, thighs clenching, breath broken.

"beg better."

"please, please—sunghoon, i need it, i need you, please—!"

he laughs. cold, "pathetic."

then he grabs your waist, slams you forward until your chest hits the desk with your hands flat, legs spread, back arched—and shoves his thick cock inside you in one brutal, single thrust. in the midst you hadn't even noticed sunghoon slip out his aching cock out of his dress pants, to busy fighting for your release.

you scream at the intrusion. he doesn't give you a second to adjust, he fucks you like he owns you—hips snapping, cock dragging deep, thick and brutal and perfect. one hand wrapped around your throat, the other gripping your ass so hard you'll bruise. your walls suck him in like a vacuum, refusing to let him go causing him to hiss.

you try to meet his thrusts — you try to grind back — but he slaps your ass again, harder, and hisses, "don't move unless i tell you to."

you go still, breathless and shaking. his fingers slip down again—circling your clit, slow, taunting and just as your body starts to tighten, just as your orgasm builds—

he pulls away. again.

you sob.

"not yet," he growls. "you think you've earned it? after all that teasing?"

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat in a punishing grip. "you're gonna take it," he breathes, "every inch. every slap. every denial. and you're gonna fucking thank me."

"thank you," you cry. "please—please, i'll be good—"

he leans over you, cock still buried, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he continues his pace and fucks you rougher, harder and crueler. you lose count of how many times he brings you to the edge—how many times he lets you feel it just to rip it away.

you're drooling. trembling. begging.

and finally—finally—when you're gasping, soaked, ruined—

"cum."

the word cracks through you like lightning. your body explodes in trembles.

you convulse around him, sobbing, screaming, cunt clenching tight as he chokes you through it —fingers digging in, cock pulsing deep inside you until he curses and spills inside, hips slamming once, twice more as he fucks it all into you.

then silence, just panting. shaking. his hands still on your hips as his cum dripping down your thighs.

you lay there lifeless but sunghoon has other plans, his hands grip you tightly as he contorts and pushes your body around—moving you from his desk to his chair.

you don't know how you ended up like this, but you're tied up in his chair and you're far to fucked out to care.

not just restrained—displayed. arms behind your back, wrists cuffed tight to the armrests. legs spread open and bent at the knee, ankles locked in place with thick leather straps he probably had custom made.

you can feel his cum leaking out of you and you can't do a thing about it. sunghoon leans back against his desk like he has all the time in the world—black dress shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, eyes drinking you in.

"look at you," his voice is low and cruel. you swallow hard, your cheeks are burning. your chest is rising and falling too fast.

he pushes off the desk and walks toward you, slow.

his fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, and you twitch, already sensitive, already leaking.

"legs shaking," he murmurs in admiration. "pussy swollen. thighs sticky."

he crouches in front of you, one hand sliding under your ass, lifting you just enough to tilt your hips.

"still dripping," he sneers. "you're disgusting."

your breath catches as he drags two fingers through your folds—slick and soaked and overstimulated—and lifts them to your lips.

"open." you obey mindlessly.

he pushes them in slow, watches you suck them clean, jaw twitching with how filthy the taste is. "good girl," he mocks. then his fingers drop back down and he spits on your pussy and watches it drips down between your folds, warm and thick, mixing with his cum and your slick.

you squirm—but the cuffs hold you down, "don't move." his palm lands on your inner thigh, hard enough to sting. then he slides two fingers inside slow, unforgiving—and curls them just right.

your whole body jerks. "that's it," he breathes. "let me feel it. let me feel this tight little hole try to suck me in." he fucks you with his fingers like he owns you, thumb rolling over your clit. soaking the leather seat beneath you.

your eyes roll back and your moans turn desperate. "sunghoon," you whimper. "please, i'm—i'm gonna—"

he stops and pulls out completely.

you scream, your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. you're left dripping, throbbing, aching for him—and he just leans in, tongue sliding up the inside of your thigh like he's taunting prey.

then he bites, hard.

you cry out and he slaps your pussy in response, watching you twitch.

he stands back up, looming over you. his hand curls around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter.

"you don't cum," he growls, "until i say you do." you nod, fast.

his free hand drags down the front of his pants—slow. threatening. you're his now. completely. tied to his chair, soaked with his cum, ruined from the inside out.

"we're not leaving this room," he says, leaning in close, "until you've screamed my name so many times you forget your own."

your arms are still pinned, your thighs are still open and your cunt is still leaking.

and sunghoon? he's sitting across from you like he's watching a show. shirt off now. cock out with one hand lazily stroking himself while the other rubs small firm circles on your clit.

you scream. your whole body jerks against the cuffs, hips snapping up, trying to run from the pressure—but there's nowhere to go. he hums, watching the way your thighs tremble, "this is what happens when you act out," he says calmly. "i could've been kind. could've been soft."

he presses his thumb hard against your sensitive nub. you sob out in response, far to overstimulated.

"but no," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "you had to shove your tits in my face and moan my name like a fucking whore." you throw your head back, mouth falling open as he slides right against the bundle of nerves that are already so sore it hurts.

you're soaked, ruined, twitching. your legs keep trying to close, but the cuffs won't let you.

you cum again.

you scream—choking on the breath that never makes it out—your entire body jerking, wrists straining, tears spilling.

sunghoon finally moves, he kicks the chair until it swivels toward him, then straddles it—his knees on either side of yours, thighs wide, cock thick and leaking.

you cry in relief until he grabs his cock and slaps it against your overstimulated clit.

you howl in pain, he leans in close, lips at your ear, "don't pass out on me," he murmurs. "you're not done yet."

and then he pushes inside with no warning, no mercy.

just his cock slamming in deep, so deep—you can't even scream, just choke on the cry as your back arches, arms still trapped, legs locked wide open, cunt fluttering helplessly around the stretch.

"tight," he hisses. "fucking tight."

he doesn't ease in, he pounds you. the chair jerks with every thrust—your wrists slam against the armrests and your legs shake violently from the overstimulation, he grabs your throat to keep you still.

"cry for me," he pants. "let them hear you beg." you sob. scream. cum again and he fucks through it, groaning deep in his throat as your cunt squeezes him tight and refuses to let go.

"i should leave you like this," he growls. "cuffed to my chair. ruined. dripping. fucked open and forgotten."

you can't speak, you can barely breathe.

but then he leans in with his mouth pressed to your ear and growls, "but you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

you nod helpless and broken.

"filthy little thing." his hand slides to your face, gripping it—holding your jaw still as he fucks you rougher, meaner, hips snapping, chair rocking, desk rattling behind you.

you cum one last time your loudest scream yet—and he finally groans, curses, slams in deep and spills inside, so hard you feel it throb against your cervix.

silence, just breathing.

just cum, just slick and heat and soaked leather.

you're limp with his cum leaking out of you again. your wrists raw, thighs bruised and your head luls back.

your whole body is twitching. you're soaked. stretched. dripping down the legs of the chair, his cum leaking out of your throbbing cunt in slow, slick trails. wrists raw.

and sunghoon?he's already tucking himself back into his slacks.

not a glance spared, not a word spoken. just the quiet click of his belt and the sound of your ragged breathing. you whimper—a soft, broken little sound and try to shift, try to close your legs, but the cuffs keep them open. exposed. leaking.

"pathetic," he mutters, adjusting his cuffs. your lips part and you want to speak. to ask if he's going to untie you, if he's going to help you down—if this means anything at all.

but he cuts you off before you can even form the words, "that," he says, voice flat, "should teach you how to behave."

your stomach drops as he walks to the door. he doesn't touch you, doesn't untie you, doesn't clean you up or kiss your cheek or say anything kind. just unlocks the door, turns to look at you one last time—ruined, bound, soaked with his cum and shaking from everything he just did to you.

his expression is unreadable, cold. "next time you walk into my courtroom acting like a whore," he says, "you'll leave in worse shape than this." he pauses, walking back to you and you have a glimmer of hope that he'd untie you.

but that all comes crashing down when he reaches you and he leans in, mouth at your ear, voice dark and smug.

"court's adjourned, baby."

then he walks out, leaving you tied there, used, aching.

alone.

and still desperate for more.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

2K notes · View notes

scorpiossslut · 6 months ago

Text

OFF-LIMITS. -Rafe Cameron.

Pairing: best friend!rafe x fem!reader

summary: rafe has always been your sweet, loving best friend. until he showed you he’s way more than that.

author’s note: had a cute idea for a fic. hope you’ll enjoy. as always, this is filthy. -xoxo, cherry💋

warnings: possessive!rafe, borderline crazy, obsessive!rafe, mentions of violence, rafe being a perv in secret, mentions of JJ Maybank flirting with reader, choking, face slapping, rough, unprotected p!v, loss of virginity, praising, degradation, breeding kink (baby trapping)

Being Rafe's precious best friend meant that you were always going to get spoiled. Many women wished for the things he was constantly offering you; his undivided attention, his affection, random, huge amounts of money sent to your bank account everytime you'd tell him you had a bad day, or if you wanted to get your nails done, or go shopping, sometimes insisting he'd come along, protection, maybe a little too much of it at times, everything you could ever want.

You were the most important thing in his life, since he never really had much of a relationship with his family, all of them treating him like he was a disease, something to be avoided at all costs, only bringing pain and suffering to those around him, like they'd often tell him. But you never saw him that way, and you hated his family for pushing him away and hurting his feelings like that. You were always there for him, his biggest supporter, the only one who could calm him down when he'd come knocking on your window late at night after having a fight with his father, the one taking care of him and putting a smile on his face. And he loved you for that.

But being Rafe's precious best friend also meant that you were off-limits to everyone else. You knew he had a tendency of being rather... intense, when it comes to you. Shit, everyone knew it, too, always choosing to stay at an arm's length from you in fear of what Rafe might think. Ever since you two were kids, he was always protective of you, and he absolutely hated the idea of sharing you.

As you got older though, it got worse. You couldn't even talk to a boy without him pulling you away immediately, and if you did, he'd always make sure to claim you in some way, wrapping his strong hands around you, or placing his big hand on your ass "innocently", always throwing daggers with his eyes and making sure that whatever asshole was trying to talk to you could see that you were unavailable. That he wasn't playing about you. His pretty princess. He didn't like it when you'd hang out with Topper and Kelce either, but since they were his friends, and they definitely knew not to fuck with him, he let it slide. But only because most of the time, he was with you, never leaving your side and silently taking notes of every time one of them would get a bit too close or be too kind to you for his liking.

You never had a problem with it. Rafe always knew best. That's what he'd always tell you, and you never had a reason not to believe him. He always took care of you. Many people talked and raised eyebrows constantly around you, not believing even for a second that you two were just best friends. There was no way that was all.

To you, it was just white noise. You were so used to Rafe and his behaviour that you didn't bat an eye ever at the closeness between you. He was just Rafey, your beloved best friend.

But little did you know the lengths that he'd go through to make sure you stayed by his side. That you'd remain his. His little bunny, oblivious to the real reason he's always asking to see your phone, hiding his true intentions with the excuse of just “checking for something", or "playing music" or wanting to "take photos" of you, when the real reason was that he was going borderline crazy just thinking about you secretly talking to boys on there.

Oblivious to the real reason his knuckles were violently bruised once in a while, promising you that it was nothing, when in reality, he almost killed a few boys for talking about you or looking at you in a filthy way, or trying to spark a conversation with you.

Clueless about the way he was always watching you, even when you thought he wasn't around. Following you in secrecy, almost everytime you'd leave the house, just to make sure that you were safe and you weren't planning on seeing someone else behind his back.

Completely unaware of the way he'd steal a pair of your panties once a month, sometimes washed, but most of the time used, snatched right out of your laundry basket, just to fulfill his sick, filthy fantasies in the privacy of his room at night, when no one would be awake to hear his moans and your name slipping from his lips as he fisted his impossibly hard cock so fast that he was seeing stars.

He thought it was cute. How you never suspected anything, how blindly you trusted him. And he was fine with you not knowing just how obsessed he was, for a while.

However, his patience was starting to fade. With every pearly smile, every innocent look you threw his way, those short skirts and sundresses you liked to wear that he swore you were wearing on purpose, just to make him go mad. Everytime you'd sit on his lap, or press your cute little ass against him when you'd dance at a party.

Everything was slowly but surely driving him insane, and it was only a matter of time until he was going to finally take what he wanted, what was rightfully his, and only his.

In his mind, the moment you'd find out about his true feelings towards you was going to be romantic, he'd make sure to be careful not to scare you off, he'd make you realize just how much you need him and how much he loved you.

So why did you just have to ruin that, by letting a damn pogue, JJ Maybank of all people, flirt with you? He thought he was going to lose his mind when he'd caught you two on the beach, talking without a care in the world, that stupid pogue scanning your body shamelessly and complimenting your little outfit that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He thought he was smart and fearless, trying to get into your pants like that.

He thought.

Oh, how he hated that you had to make it hard for him and yourself by doing that. He had trusted you, showed you his love, his devotion, for so many years, and there you were, pushing him to do something so reckless that might make you hate him.

But no... he wouldn't have that. He was going to make sure you never looked at another man again, that he would be the only one for you.

Forever.

"My dumb little princess, always so fucking oblivious." He grunted, pounding into your little pussy violently while he gripped your cheeks painfully, making your juicy lips pout. "You don't know what you did to me back there, baby. You're lucky that little shit is still alive after what he tried to pull."

His tone was soft, almost mocking, but you were having trouble processing his words, too messy and too cock drunk to hear anything as you took what he gave you helplessly, your abused cunt swallowing him greedily with each thrust of his hips.

"I told you not to run off by yourself, didn't I? Told you you should only stick by my side. You. Only. Stay. With. Me." He barked, empathizing his words with harsh thrusts, knocking the air out of your lungs and having your back arch off the bed.

"M' sorry, Rafey! I... I didn't mean to, I promise!" You cried out, digging your manicured fingers into his shoulders as you used them for support.

He just chuckled, the sound dark and lacking any amusement. You didn't mean to. Of course you didn't.

"Yeah? Then what the fuck were you smiling at Maybank for, huh?! Letting him look at you, talk to you, when you know that shit pisses me off? You tryna be a whore or something?!" He snapped, grabbing onto the back of your thighs and folding them to your chest, the new angle allowing his cock to stretch you even more and hit your cervix deliciously.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your lips parted with a loud, pornographic moan.

This wasn't the Rafe you were used to. Your soft, caring, loving best friend, and even if you knew of his outbursts, his undeniable issues, he always made sure to keep that side of him away from you, only treating you like a delicate flower, worshiping you with all his heart. Now, he was a completely different person, and maybe you should've hated him for taking everything from you like that, your sweet, precious virginity, but to your surprise, you loved it. And the way your pussy was fluttering around him uncontrollably was a clear sign of that.

"Well shit, would you look at that." Rafe smirked, leaning closer and folding your legs further, the pain adding to the pleasure you were starting to feel at the pits of your stomach. He wrapped his fingers around your slim throat, applying pressure to the sides of your neck and humming in satisfaction at the way your teary eyes widened in shock. "My pretty princess likes being called a whore, huh?"

"R-Rafe! Please, please!" You begged, but you didn't know what for.

"You were just begging for some cock, weren't you? This slutty hole needed a good pounding that bad. What a shame, baby..." He tsked, shaking his head and leaning to peck your trembling lips briefly, before switching up and slapping your cheek, the sharp sound echoing in the room along with the filthy sounds of your skin slapping and your wet pussy squelching around him.

"My dick is the only one this cunt will ever see, understood?!"

You let out a short scream and clenched around him viciously, his words making your head spin.

You were sure you were scratching his back to the point it was almost bleeding, but you couldn't help it, feeling like you were going to pass out with his hand coming back to squeeze your throat and with the way his pace picked up, the bed creaking underneath you like it was going to break with the force of his thrusts.

"Yes! Yes, Rafey!" You managed to say between moans and pathetic whimpers, reaching out and grasping his wrist, your small fingers wrapping around it.

You looked so beautiful to him right now. Unreal. With tears rolling down your soft cheeks, those pretty doe eyes looking up at him submissively, not hiding the way your pupils were blown in pure lust, only for him. Red, swollen lips from his kisses, your carefully applied makeup that was now ruined on your face, an obsessive amount of marks that were going to become flashy bruises, all over your neck and your chest, a clear reminder for you and everyone else that he owned you. The sweet sounds coming from your lips were like music to his ears, the countless nights where he'd imagine how you'd sound like, how you'd feel wrapped around his cock now useless, because nothing could compare to the real thing.

"Sweet angel taking cock so well. 'S like you were made for me, baby... Don't you think so? Look at how greedy this pussy is. Taking me like a pro." He praised, pulling back a little and tilting his head to the side and watching the way he slipped and pushed into you so easily, your slick covering his entire length, a hint of pink around his base, the evidence of your innocence being ripped away from you, now belonging to him.

Letting go of your neck, you finally gasped for air, blinking stupidly at him with your long lashes. But then, he suddenly reached out and grasped your hair, fisting it and yanking your head forward with force, having you watch the way he was stretching you repeatedly.

"Look how good you're taking me. This is all mine. Mine. No one will ever get to see you like this, baby... Gonna make sure of it. You'll never think about another boy ever again. You belong to me, you always have." His lips stretched into a smirk, the look in his eyes possessed as he watched you squirm and whimper, almost unable to keep your eyes open with the tears blocking your sight.

"Say it. Say this pussy belongs to me. You belong to me." He growled, his once blue eyes that were now dark and possessed burning a hole through you, his fingers gripping your hair tighter and pushing your head back. His body pressed against yours as his other hand sneaked its way to your pussy, his thumb pressing against your puffy, sensitive clit and rubbing it back and forth rapidly.

Your thighs were shaking around his waist, and your small body was trashing underneath him as you whined and locked eyes with his.

"It's yours, Rafey! Pussy's yours. I'm yours!"

"Fucking right. You'll never get away from me, even if you tried. I own you. You're never leaving me." He spat, the possessive words only making you squeeze his cock tighter.

It was supposed to be a threat maybe, but in your fucked up state, it was the hottest thing.

You wouldn't be able to live without Rafe anyway, you were so dependent on him, on his attention, his love, that the thought of ever being without him felt wrong.

Then, a sudden thought came to him. How could he make sure that you were never going to escape him? That you were only going to need him, for the rest of your life, just like he needed you. Maybe he could knock you up. Surely you'll never be able to run away if he got you big and swollen with his baby. You'll be his forever. God, only the thought made his body shiver. You'd look even more beautiful this way. Glowing, all because of him. Carrying his heir in that pretty belly of yours. Giving him a family to take care of.

An animalistic growl escaped from deep inside him, and his hips snapped frantically against yours with a newfound purpose now as he smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your whimpers. The kiss was filled with possessiveness as he tried to claim you in every way possible, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you greedily while you tried to keep up with him, every once in a while clashing your teeth together as he rocked your fragile body into the mattress. When he pulled back, a string of your shared saliva connected your lips, and he grinned at you, but in a way that had the hairs on your body stand up.

"Think I know what to do with you, princess. Think I'm gonna get you all knocked up. Yeah. You'd look so pretty like that, you'll be so full of me you won't even be able to walk. And everyone will know, baby... Everyone will know who did that to you. That you're carrying my baby inside of you. Rafe Cameron's baby. My heir."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #bsf!rafe

3K notes · View notes

yzzart · 3 months ago

Text

｡𖦹°‧ DANTE SEEING THE SCRATCHES ON HIS BACK.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: mention of unprotected sex, blood, sexual content.

⭑.ᐟ The word “responsible” did not fit into Dante’s vocabulary, it was something that would take time for the boy to understand; perhaps, according to future events. — Eventually, “trustworthy” was better; at least, he agreed.

⤷ Dante was reliable in completing his assigned works, occupations; always maintaining a high standard of excellence, never failing to commit or doing anything half-heartedly. — Enzo was a witness, and he idolized the hunter's completed works. — So, this meant that Dante couldn't pretend there wasn't dirty work to be done.

⤷ Meaning, again, that the demon hunter couldn't stay by your side, clinging to your neck, kissing and biting you and inhaling your delicious scent — or inside you — forever. — He hated it.

⭑.ᐟ By the gods that could exist, — holy shit, Dante thought — to admire, to contemplate, you in the old bed of that old-fashioned and worn-out room, sleeping, peacefully, between, at least, clean sheets — that were brought by you for your boyfriend — so beautiful and apollonian was an image of the paradise that they say exists.

⤷ Through the transparent, white fabric of the sheet, some curves of your body were witnessed by the eldest's youthful eyes; if he had the chance, he would live only to adore you. — Being led to a memory of last night; his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to utter some coherent word, and failed terribly, the irregular breaths, sensual and so libidinous sighs. — Just remembering, he felt weak, vulnerable, and making his cock throb.

⭑.ᐟ You were insatiably, relentlessly. — Driving that poor man crazy and disorienting was ridiculous, delightful, and such an aphrodisiac. — Dante had to crawl back, coerced, to his next job that Enzo had sent him; did he really need it?

⤷ Stepping on the aged, and also filthy, wood, causing a terrifying and agonizing noise, worried if you were still asleep, Dante only saw you turn your back, remaining asleep. — Now, a piece of your bare back, and the curves of your ass, perceived by the emerald eyes.

⭑.ᐟ Where had you thrown his shirt? — Dante searched, unhurriedly and with little interest or convenience, for the gray piece of clothing, which you had removed and left somewhere inconspicuous. — The demon hunter, during his search, passed by the piece of broken mirror stuck in the wall structure; it didn't hurt to pay attention to his appearance before anything else, right?

⤷ Dante's charming, lazy, and bold frown was always there, just like an incontinent and unruly mess in his white hair; nothing that could bother him. — The piece of reflective glass didn't show his entire image, so his attention was fixed on the attention on his neck with small bite marks and hickeys made by you.

⤷ On Dante's lips, a smug smile, so debauched, curved; of course he could just walk out with those traces of pleasure on the street. — Upon learning to use his regeneration suit, the cursed man would love to show it off. — You were trying to mark your territory, what a beautiful thing; well, he couldn't judge, since he performed the same action. — Displaying the visible muscles, Dante turned his body frame to see his back. — Holy shit.

⭑.ᐟ Marks, scratches from nails, had a deep presence on your boyfriend's back; thin, thick, some incomplete, but they were there. —The reddish lines, some showing thin trails of blood, against his skin were something divine. — Evidence of the pure pleasure, excitement, desire that had risen in your chest the night before; sensations that only Dante could give you, and would be the only and last one to do so. — Oh, he remembered.

⤷ Your moans, — which sounded identical to meows, melodic whimpers — were melody, harmony that Dante learned to be obsessed with. — While he was, perfectly, with his balls inside you, feeling more and more, and making him crazy with desire, your beautiful and so delicious pussy squeezing his cock, Dante knew, from the first day he looked at you, that you would be the death of him. — And he never had so much pleasure at the end of his life.

⤷ Dante was a drunk, fucked up, and needy — and also miserable — for you, for your pussy; don't blame that poor guy. — The wet, dirty, dirty noise caused by the fast thrusts was too much for you; like the stretching, which never got used to, delicious in you. — Or when you stuttered, begged, with so much affection, allowing, and sweetness for Dante to cum inside. — Dante would never deny anything to his beautiful girl.

⤷ For mercy's sake, Dante felt his dick swell, ache with excitement and throb even more as he looked at the marks.

⭑.ᐟ Now, his canines stood out in his proud smile, pure lust — experiencing an electricity of debauchery, taking on an almost feral sensation — in front of the broken mirror. — Dante did not need his regeneration with that gift.

⭑.ᐟ The beautiful kitten showed her claws, wanting to signal a territorial marking that would only be seen if Dante wanted it to be; in other cases, leaving a reminder so specific to him. — Only him.

#dante #dante sparda #dante dmc #devil may cry #devil may cry netflix #dmc #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante x you #dante smut #dante sparda smut

3K notes · View notes

quarterlifekitty · 6 months ago

Note

Hey! i really love your writing and im not sure if you've done something similar but like im curious as to what you think their like main romantic/sexual fantasies are, like their fake scenarios to help them sleep ya know? Like what their favorite tropes are :)

This is SUCH a good question man…. So many possibilities.

Gaz I think is into tales of chivalry, to be honest. Has been since he was a boy. Watched a lot of sword and sorcery movies as a kid. So yeah— maybe he does fantasize about riding up on a horse, slaying a dragon, meeting the lovely princess that was kept in the tower, and ravishing her thoroughly. Not that it’s any of your business.

Soap is into omegaverse, but he doesn’t know that. He fantasizes about being out at some pub or something, brushing against someone in the crowd and smelling them and just knowing— and they know it too. And then they can’t keep their hands off of each other. Or their fluids. Depends on how crazy he’s feeling.

Ghost fantasizes about having sex where he’s comfortable not covering anything. His face or his body. Where he can act like an animal, say all the vile, filthy shit that’s in his mind— and the person he’s with isn’t scared or put off by any of it at all— his words or appearance. His kink is acceptance.

Price fantasizes, to the surprise of no one, about having a wife with a baby. And them putting the baby down to bed together (after they both give baby a kiss on the head, and get a good whiff of baby smell). And as they hold hands and walk back to their room. And she leans into him and whispers, “I want you to put another baby in me tonight.” You can imagine what happens next— and he certainly does!

Rudy thinks a lot about the sensual act of undressing. Very slowly, carefully stripping his lover, starting with any shoes and stockings. Carefully slipping each button free, kissing the exposed skin in his wake until they’re completely bare— vulnerably laid on clean sheets. Both of them, naked as the day they were born and with all of the time in the world.

Nikolai doesn’t feel bad about it. He fantasizes about taking apart a crying girl. Kissing, heavy handed petting— making the world outside of their bed disappear as she drops into the comfortable, warm, amniotic embrace of his care. Sometimes it includes sex, sometimes it doesn’t.

1K notes · View notes

zentraex · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman.

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday.

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake.

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account.

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains.

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

"No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened.

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him.

"The keys?"

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him.

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes.

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know."

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.

What were you going to do now?

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped.

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer!

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks.

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall.

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors.

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger?

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance:

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window.

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles.

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles.

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.?

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye.

Shit.

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down.

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol?

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they?

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again.

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear.

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen.

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away.

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call.

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone.

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name.

You pressed the green button.

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear.

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him.

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning.

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you.

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore. I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him.

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day.

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that.

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened.

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special.

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black.

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes.

But honestly?

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman.��

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #yandere #milkman #milkman x reader #that's not my neighbor x reader #yandere francis mosses #yandere milkman

3K notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 11 months ago

Note

what if rafe found kook!sweetheart!reader’s girl blog? omg and he see’s some nsfw reblogs…

warnings: use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (just once), reader is just a girl, 18+ links

“i still think i should join you in the shower..” you looked up at rafe’s reflection from your vanity, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “we both know how that’ll end.” you laughed, adjusting your robe before twisting the door knob of your bathroom. “i’ll be right out.” rafe watched as you closed the door behind you, collapsing onto your bed with a sigh. he wanted nothing more than to get you underneath your sheets and, hopefully, have his head between your thighs.

just as he felt himself growing hard at the thought of you gasping his name, he heard your phone ding!

thinking nothing of it, he glanced at the device on your nightstand, a few more notifications coming in. his eyebrows knitted in confusion. you always had your phone silenced at this time of night. fingertips itching to check what was making your phone go off, he muttered a quick ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the damned thing. “tumblr?” he narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar app icon.

[11:41 PM] lanasweetheart liked your post: “something about a manly man getting the bestest sleep in a pink hyperfeminine bed (he’s so babygirl 🎀)”

rafe clicked the notif, a ‘what the fuck?’ falling from his lips when a picture of him sleeping next to you lit up the screen. tapping on the profile icon, rafe was in for a surprise when all your posts were now at the tips of his fingers. “three thousand notes?” he was in disbelief that a photo of the back of his head peeking out of your pink comforter had gotten so much traction. “girls really go crazy over that shit?” he laughed, full on scrolling now.

rafe thought it was cute that all your posts consisted of photo dumps of your nights out with your girlfriends, cute selfies with freshly done makeup, nail pics, some rant posts here and there about drama he already had the full scoop on, but then he came across a tag that said ‘୨ৎ thinking thoughts’ that completely flipped his brain inside out.

bf looked so dilfy today, should i ask him for babies?

“you totally should.” he whispered to himself, tongue running across his bottom lip as he kept reading. the next post was a reblog.

gorgeous gorgeous girls pout and whine and whimper instead of using words

“yeah, you do.” rafe could feel heat starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. you were always so sweet and graceful, your boyfriend couldn’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy that an app got to see this side of you before he did.

i just want him to break me sometimes. slap me, choke me, degrade me.. rough me up a little bit that’s all :(

“holy shit.” he cleared his throat, his cock now straining against the denim material of his jeans. he would’ve happily done all of that for you if you asked, but then again maybe that was the problem. you shouldn’t have to. apart of rafe felt bad for invading your privacy like this, but man was he glad that he did.

love when daddy picks out my lingerie for the night <3

rafe’s jaw was on the ground. ‘daddy’???? oh, you were so going to get it. “what are you doing?” rafe jumped at the sound of your voice, having not heard the water to the shower stop. you were in nothing but a robe, the scent of your strawberry shampoo filling up his senses. “what am i doing?” he repeated your question, getting up as he placed your phone back on your nightstand.

“yeah.. did i get a text message or something?” your heart started pounding in your ears as you watched rafe’s eyes grow dark. “no. no text message. ‘was just looking through your filthy tumblr account.” you blinked, chest rising and falling as your blood ran cold. “oh?” you backed away with each step rafe took until you were finally blocked by your wall. “mhmm, turns out my sweet little girlfriend wants to be treated like a whore in bed.”

you swallowed thickly, a gasp leaving your lips when rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat. “wanna be roughed up?” he laughed, dragging you over to your bed before ripping the robe off of your body. “i’ll fuckin’ rough you up.”

3K notes · View notes

kurooh · 3 months ago

Note

OOO OMG I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRTIE FOR DENKI, but if you do, could we PLEASE get some morning wood action. im talking denki wakes up and its full shaft bro. he either grinds into you, or jerks off cause ur away, creative freedom! 😇 LMAKDOAOAA okay im leaving now

⊹₊˚. SNOOZE ! — mornings with kaminari denki

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, gn! reader, consensual somnophilia, grinding, light fluff, pet names.

xoxo, juno: nonnie come back 😭 this is like a month late ahhhh, i hope you see this

“babyyy, you just look so good,” denki murmurs into the slope of your shoulder, voice sleepy and soft. “it’s too early to be losing my mind right now.”

engrossed in your dream, you let out a sigh and barely shift against him. he thinks your quiet snores and even breaths are so cute, but his palm coasts down your side and lands on your hip. it’s late enough for the sounds of the morning rush to have passed already, but too early to get out of bed just yet.

denki probably couldn’t even get out of bed in this condition, though—neglected and heavy, his cock is as hard as a steel flagpole between his legs. it’s just so sensitive this morning that he’s too aware of the precum bubbling at the tip and the extra heartbeat that can’t seem to stop increasing.

he experimentally tickles your stomach with his fingers, light as the brush of a feather—and you shift again, pressing your ass into him before moving away. it’s only a simple touch, the kind that would ordinarily do everything but make him sick to his stomach with desire, but denki chokes out a gasp.

“if you just—if you knew,” he says dumbly, curling his fingers into your hip and pressing his crotch into your ass, “how easy it is for you to make me crazy. i never used to be this hard when i woke up, but you fucking—ooh, you changed me.”

truthfully, denki doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying.

he’s still half asleep and just disoriented from such a rush of testosterone through his body, but he still feels the need to talk to you. it’s difficult to understand what’s coming out of his own mouth with the way all of his brain cells are exploding with bliss—in an attempt to keep himself grounded, he nibbles at your shoulder and tucks his nose into your skin.

of course, this does nothing but make the friction on his cock feel even better. your natural smell mixed with faint traces of your soap makes him nothing short of feral.

“babe, babyyy,” denki cries, fingers digging into your skin as he humps your ass more desperately, “‘m no good at talking, really. that’s your job—haa, shit—i know it’s not good to assign jobs during sex unless it’s for a blowjob, but it’s your thing! i don’t even know how you don’t get confused in the middle of it, but that’s why it’s your thing, i—fuck!”

denki knows he’s absolutely done for when he feels that familiar tightness taking root in his balls. your ass is just so perfect, so plump and perky and wonderful to get off on. it’s good, so damn good, and the relief that washes over him in warm waves with every stroke is even better—denki’s gonna cum, and he’s gonna cum hard.

stray tears fall down his cheeks as it occurs to him, just how fucking filthy he’s being—so desperate, all for you and only for you. denki’s actually about to cum, and he just needs one final push to successfully make it over the edge. although he’s hazy with so much lust that it’s excruciating, he does notice the intentional press of your ass against him.

you’re awake, and you’re helping him out. oh god, you’re even whispering sweet, sleepy nothings to him to encourage him to cum—denki squeezes his wet eyes shut and emits a whine so loud it may not even be considered human.

“oh fuck, oh fuck,” denki’s sobbing now, fingernails digging into your skin as if you’ll fade away like a dream, “gonna cum, baby—ugh, you feel so fucking good—can’t hold it..”

with one final rut of his hips into your ass, denki cums. a series of shudders rock his whole body and leave his hands shaking uncontrollably, until you envelop them in your own to calm him. spent and too weak to get up and change his soaked boxers, denki curls into your side, still coming down from his hysteric euphoria.

“sorry i . . made a mess,” he heaves out, chest working hard to breathe, “i’ll clean it up.”

an easy laugh slips out of you as you fully turn to cuddle him. “you better. anyway, would now be the right time to ask what the hell got into you?”

he’s falling asleep again. “it’s always you. like, just seeing you beside me when i wake up—i can’t.”

“denki, i think it’s time to get up. alarm’s going off in less than five minutes.”

“don’t care,” he huffs, pulling you in with the last of his strength before you can pull away. “if you stay, i’ll make it worth your while when i can feel my legs again. they’re numb.”

“okay, but what does that have to do with—”

denki clears his throat and peels an eye open. “silent snuggling time. just snooze the alarm and relax with me, babe.”

#kurooh #denki x y/n #denki smut #denki headcanons #denki x reader #denki kaminari #mha smut #mha imagines #bnha smut #bnha imagines #smut #gn reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

639 notes · View notes

spookykoolkat · 1 year ago

Text

summer breeze | eddie munson 18+

wrote a drabble cus im just thinking about drugdealer!eddie at a party (ones that hes tired of going to) to sell and make money, but you take him completely off of his game once he notices you.

drugdealer!eddie x plus sized!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact or get BLOCKED. pwp (sorta), eddie and reader are both in their early twenties (eddie is a year or two older than reader), flirting, p in v (protected pls wrap it up!), fingering, mentions of oral (fem receiving), descriptions of feminine fat bodies, itsyyy bit of body issues (reader isn't insecure just aware of her body), very light choking if you squint, dirty talk (i think hes filthy here), body worship, use of pretty girl, daddy, baby, sweetheart, etc lmk if i missed something.

please do not forget to read and educate yourself on the genocide in gaza! please do your daily clicks and donate to families in need for sudan, congo and palestine + more. https://arab.org/ scroll down on my page for resources and posts about palestine! it will always be free palestine and boycotting the show stranger things as there are three raging zionists on set! no longer taking requests for stranger things or tlou!

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

i definitely see eddie munson being the one that's invited to the party to make money, find customers, manage to provide the entire party with weed and other drugs people wanted. maybe he's not the most fun, given he was burnt out after his teen years from doing crazy shit like trying pills and psychedelics to skipping class to drive two towns over, drinking and partying to make up for a life time.

he's not there to necessarily party. he's there to make money, drink, and observe. he doesn't even really miss the partying, or the people. since he was the plug, it was only ever about business. how much can someone get, what can they get, for what price, thanks, have a good night. he didn't get much socialization done in his life right now, so his best bet was to just watch.

he took his place on the couch, somewhere in the clouded area of the living room of whoever's house he's in right now. it was almost deja vu for him.

eddie would be SUCH an observer. quiet, listening and watching to everyone and everything since he was always in the corner unless he was needed. so when his eyes scanned the room after taking a puff of his blunt, it wasn't odd that his eyes latched onto you first.

you were wearing your usual, tube top, fishnet and jean shorts that rode up your ass and hugged the dips of your hips and waist. i think eddie tried to stop looking at you, especially when you saw him staring from your spot where you poured yourself another drink. but even you catching him didn't make him have any shame.

he was checking you out unabashedly. he was staring at the way your tits squeezed against the fabric of the tube top, how your tummy poked out of your shorts because they squeezed into your curves, how the fishnets had holes in some spots on your legs probably from stretching over the width of your thighs.

i think eddie would definitely try to make a move on you, his confidence wasn't lost on him, but he would wait. and while he would wait, he would think about touching you, talking to you, maybe even talking you through it.

he was a freak.

he waited until you finally decided to dance with a few of your friends, getting up from his spot and mixing in between the bodies to get next to you. eddie wasn't a dancer. not in these settings, even he surprised himself.

the obsession was mutual. your hands couldn't stop touching him as you two danced, whispering little things in each other's ears.

"you're really fucking pretty, you know that? like, insanely pretty. i couldn't stop looking at you from across the room." his voice was all you heard even when the music tried to drown it out, he was the only one you could listen to.

"eddie right?" you asked in his ear and your voice was even sweeter than he thought. he just nodded and let his hands fall onto your hips.

"you think i'm pretty?" you asked, your eyes fluttering up at him and biting your lip.

eddie only put his hands on your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him and smiling as you both danced together. putting your hands on his chest as he moved his hands to the lower part of your back and dipping his finger tips into your shorts, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"more than pretty. can't even focus on my job when you're right there in front of me just begging for me to come and take you away."

your eyes flutters again, this time with your lips parted and small hitch in your throat.

it was the same expression you had that night, upstairs in the guest room as everyone partied below you when he pushed his fingers inside of your heat.

"oh, ooh baby," he would say as he watched your cunt suck his fingers in, coating him in your juices and making a mess over his hand.

"i-i'm, eddie, oh my god eddie," you groaned, jean shorts discarded and panties moved to the side as he played with your cunt.

his hands ripped the fishnets between your thighs, letting his fingers spread the thick of your cunt and press his finger pads onto the glistening pearl that made you flutter your eyes shut.

it was the same expression you gave when he pushed his length into your sopping heat, and grabbed onto every inch of skin he could. once he entered you after making you cum on his fingers, he got eager.

eddie pulled your top down and let your tits free, becoming even more obsessed you might end up having to put a restraining order on him. it turned out, eddie was a tit man. he played with your tits as he slid in and out of you, squeezing your pebbled nipples and teasing them. sucking on his fingers just to play with your nipples, grabbing your tits and pushing them together to watch them bounce as he fucked you.

he was in love.

you didn't know eddie much, but he took his time with you. even when the party seemed to get even more rowdy, he only fucked into you harder. his hips snapping against your thighs, now calves on his shoulders as he quickly grabbed a pillow and slid it under the small of your back.

"my fucking god, sweetheart, look at you," he said, slipping back into you and adding a stretch that added to your pleasure, "even fuckin' prettier like this, you know that? goddamn, i'm gonna fucking get addicted to this pussy,"

the wind had been knocked out of you, breathless and scrambling for something to say but without missing a beat eddie ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs wide beside him to see you open for him.

"i, i, daddy please, i can't, too much, can't breathe," you could feel his cock in your throat, punching into you and making your legs twitch at his lace.

"just like that, pretty girl, hold yourself open like that, be good for daddy." he groaned, sitting on his knees to slide back into your gaping hole as you placed your hands on the back of your thighs.

"there we go, so fuckin' good, so pretty," he whispered to himself, watching as tears ruined your perfect makeup and sweat collected on your forehead and chest. you were ruined, aching and throbbing, still begging for him even when he was giving you what you wanted.

"please, please, so fucking good s' so fucking big," you said, out of breath as he moved to your liking.

he couldn't fuck you like that for long, not when he was watching the weight of your tits bounce and move to the rhythm of his thrusts, not when you begged for him, not when he looked at the way your legs pressed against your stomach that was so soft and round for him—now becoming his favorite part to touch as he lifts himself from his knees and putting his weight into your waist.

he got a good grip like this, you thought, feeling how his hands molded into the skin you bashed for so long just to fuck you deeper and more relentlessly.

it was when someone knocked on the door, asking for eddie, (after your second orgasm) when he decided to flip the two of you over so that his back was now against the random headboard of the bed and your thighs sat on top of his.

you were positioned at his tip, most of him sliding out after your orgasm pushed him out. you couldn't help but feel yourself drip onto his length as you looked at the state of him, hearing the man call for his friend outside of the door, and watching as eddie got lost in your curves and softness.

"fucking hell. goddamnit, look at you," he breathed, hands moving all over you, "this will never leave my mind. i'm telling you right now. gonna be thinking about this for fucking ever, thinking about this pretty fucking body on me,"

he was touching everything, all over you, squeezing parts of you you'd never though you'd let anyone see. kissing the stretch marks and moles and the extra flab of your arms and leaning you back to kiss the width of your tummy.

"sit down on me, baby, please, let me have it, let daddy have it, i've been real good for you, baby," he begged, whined, pressing the side of his face into your tits and gently suckling on the skin.

he was growing tiresome, feeling your hole clench around his weeping, red tip that ached for you. eddie didn't even realize he could throb this hard for anyone, or that he even wanted anyone as bad as he wanted you when he saw you. he didn't even know he could last as long as he did, not with you being right in front of him begging for him to fuck you.

you were beautiful, you had something about you that he couldn't take his eyes off of, something he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about even if he tried.

"but, they're asking for you," you whimpered, fingers dragging through eddie's hair and fingernails scraping his scalp as he groped your tits and sucked on them. "the party, you have customers,"

he leaves kisses when he speaks again.

"the fuck does that matter, hm? as far as i'm concerned," he said and leaned back, watching the way your cunt looked so he could remember every detail. how juicy your cunt was, how he could palm it and rub your clit at the same time, how well your cunt wrapped around his cock when he gave everything for you to take,

"i got the prettiest, juiciest fucking pussy i've ever had in my fuckin' life right here about to sit on my cock, you think i'm gonna stop trying to make you cum so i can get a 20 dollar bill?" he scoffed, "absolutely fuckin' not. fuck that party. now let me fuck that pretty cunt baby, please, let me feel it again,"

he whimpered when he met your eyes, desperation for a nut especially like this, and you melted. you clenched around his tip and he winced as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. you were gasping at this point, trying to fight for air while you let your cunt take all of him until your clit was pressed against his thatch of hair.

"oh fuck, FUCK, fuck baby," he practically yelled, throwing his head back against the headboard and you couldn't help yourself. his hands were gripping your asscheeks so hard they left hand prints, pulling and spreading them apart just to leave slaps to imagine how your ass would jiggle with it.

it left him moaning even more.

your lips attached to his neck and kissed everywhere you could, licking his pale skin and sucking on his neck and chest. you left hickies where you could. the soberness in you wanted him to remember this, to be looked at so people can know someone fucked him this good and it was you.

the drunk in you just wanted to claim him as yours. let everyone know he was fucking you. and only you. or so you convinced yourself to think.

as you buried your face into his neck and suckled and licked, your cunt clenched around him and slowly you lifted your hips up, just to slam them back down and make lewd noises fill the room. his moaning was turning you on even more, knowing his was sounding fucked out like this because of you.

"eddie, yo what the fuck? i'm tryin' to get some weed man! come on!" the obnoxious voice was drowned out by eddie's moans and whimpers as you decided to speed your bouncing up.

you did it for a hot minute, rolling your hips and bouncing your ass on your knees as you took him in with every lift of your hips. he was so much more filling this way, so much more bigger and reaching places it felt like was your stomach.

"eddie, e-eddie, p-p-please, eddie," you were crying into his neck when you whined and it only made him release a guttural groan as he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body down to his.

"eddie, what, wh-" you tried as he fixed positions, planting his feet and raising his hips before continuously slamming up into your cunt.

"oh, oh, oh my, f-fucking, mmphf, my," you really tried, to make sense of what he was doing until your mind went blank, until you felt the head of his pink cock hitting your cervix over and over again until it began to mix pleasure with pain.

it was delicious, it was everything, and yet the man was still at the door. "eddie, eddie," you moaned, sort of forgetting about everything else but the man ramming into your sore hole, you corrected yourself quickly as he fucked you harder, "daddy!"

"woah, hey, are you, are you fucking in there?? eddie!!! my man!!" the man cheered through the door but to you it was muffled.

you couldn't hear anything but the messiness of your cunt, the squelching, the groaning and crying, the moaning and whimpering, his words making you tighten around him.

"take that fucking dick, baby, take what daddy's giving you, yeah?" he growled in your ear as he kept his pace up, your tears hitting his shoulders and your whines being muffled by his chest.

"i know baby, you're taking me so well, being so good, feel so fucking good,"

"cmon baby, let me have another one, cum again for daddy,"

"next time i'm gonna bury my fucking face between those thighs and let your ride my tongue, just wanna taste my pretty girl the right way," he was breathless, and listening to you cry from his words and beg after every sweet nothing he couldn't hold it anymore.

"get it man!" again. eddie was almost getting pissed off. actually. he was pissed off.

this random man was able to hear the way you sounded just for eddie, the way you called for him and said his name, the way you cried when his cock hit your spot over and over again in this angle.

"get the fuck out of here, fuckface!" eddie screamed angrily away from your ear, only making you clench harder as he then flipped you to lay on your side.

his cock was still inside of you, only now he laid behind you in the same position and lifted your leg by the thickness of your thigh and held it there as he lifted his thigh and slipped further inside of you.

"m' the only one that should hear you like this, not him, nobody else. look at that," he says in your ear as he uses his other hand to point your head downwards to see the way his cock slammed into your cunt over and over again, barely being able to see it over your tummy, "see how she's crying for me? god i wish you could fuckin' see yourself, how fuckin' pretty you are,"

"daddy, daddy, fuck, fuck me, fuck my pussy please, make me feel good," you managed to get out as he moved his hand from your hair to your throat, forcing you to throw your head back against his.

eddie puts his chin right at the top of your head, somehow seemingly bigger than you and crowding you as he kept his pace.

"touch yourself, princess, touch that pretty little clit for daddy, daddy's gonna make you cum all over his big fucking cock, how's that sound, pretty girl? you like that?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

it only grows deeper when he sees your weak hand move to your messy cunt, finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into her. eddie can feel you clench and drip onto him, covering his cock in your cum and juices as you reach your climax for the third time.

you didn't know eddie. he didn't really know you. but in this moment, holding you to his chest as you leaves kisses in your hair and on your cheek sweetly, fucking you roughly and messily, palm still at your throat.

you were crying by now, tears slipping down just for eddie to dry them back up.

"i know, i can feel you baby, can feel you gettin' close for me," he boasts, his own thrusts getting sloppy and missing the rhythm as he struggles to hold his own release back.

"so good, feels so good daddy," you gasped, voice dry and strained, "gonna make, fuck fuck, baby i can't, too much,"

"uh-uh baby, what were you gonna say? gonna make you what? cum? gonna make this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock again?" eddie's balls pulled taut, fighting back his orgasm until you clenched hard one last time and yelled out.

"yes! yes! yes! make me cum, you're making me cum, i'm cumming, daddy please," you shouted, body shaking in his hold as you move your hands to grab at his wrist and try to wriggle out of his grasp, his thrusts becoming too much too fast.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, fuck," he whimpered, wincing and releasing a string of moans and groans as he cums in the condom; desperately wishing he could've painted your walls. you were still shaking in his grasp, whimpering when eddie pulls out of you and moves his hands to fix your hair.

eddie moves you to lay on your back as he sits up on one arm and admires you, the lipstick smeared and eyeshadow messy, eyeliner running and your face makeup staining whatever pillows were there.

eddie wasn't the type to think he was going to call back. thats for sure. he wasn't a dating man, a 'see you more than once in a year' man. eddie was confused for the most part, not knowing where this was gonna go next depending how he went about this last part of the interaction. he especially wasn't a girl. not that girl who asked what we are on the first hook up. not the girl who day dreamed about someone when they weren't near.

he wasn't a girl. he especially wasn't that girl.

you opened your eyes to him staring with a lopsided smile, scanning over your face and chest.

"what?" you smiled, breathlessly and sleep pulling at your eyes.

he shakes his head with a small smile and drowns out the music playing from downstairs, watching you scan his face.

"so, are you gonna call me after this? when can i see you again?"

1K notes · View notes

inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 5 months ago

Text

Chishiya X reader: Crawling back to you

a/n: just finished alice in bordeland and i just had to write some angsty Chishiya.

Warnings: injuries (nothing graphic), pain, angsty, the games, mentions of blood, happy ending, gn reader, no use of y/n, kissing

Word count: 1.5K

“Chishiya.”

His name comes out as a whisper, followed by a groan of pain. Your leg is throbbing but you chose to ignore the pain. You can finally see him, his body slumped against the car Arisu had hid him behind. The king of spades had managed to mess you up pretty good. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. You had to get to him. Even if it met dragging yourself towards him, one miserably tug at a time. He can’t hear you, he’s too far and you're too weak to manage anything other than a sigh of his name but you call out to him anyway.

“Chishiya, i’m here.”

Your leg snags on a piece of rubble and you groan. You turn to look at what's inhibiting you from moving, eye falling on the metal that's caught onto your pants. You tug yourself forward, hearing the fabric rip as you move. A trickle of blood runs down your tight where the metal managed to scrap it. You don’t notice the sting of the new cut. You'd be surprised if you managed to feel your leg at all after this. Your shirt rides up your stomach, causing your skin to rub onto the rubble below. There will be cuts, you’re sure of it. The floor is incredibly filthy. But you push on. You can see him perfectly now. His head is turned to the opposite side and he’s eerily still but you can tell he’s still alive. His chest moves up and down slowly as he breaths. Just a bit more and you’ll be with him. You can do it.

“Chishiya…”

Chishiya hears your voice and for a moment he wonders if he’s about to die. He feels like shit, sure, but not weak enough to be hallucinating your voice. He lifts his head, eyes squinting towards the place where Niragi was. He must be going crazy. Surely that's it. But then he hears it, a little louder now, your voice calling to him. His head snaps towards the noise, eyes moving over the road as he looks for you. He almost confuses you with a corpse until he sees that you're inching closer to him. Your name escapes his lips without hesitation. And you hear it.

A rush of relief fills your heart. He’d seen you. Even if you didn’t make it to him. Even if the injuries ended up being too much for you, he’d know you tried to come back to him. He’d know you’d kept your promise. A promise you’d whispered to him in the darkness of the night when you were feeling a bit too melancholic about things. One you’d keep, even if it killed you.

Chishiya wanted to move towards you. He wanted desperately to help you close the distance between your bodies but he couldn’t move. And even if somehow he’d managed to lay down his arm wouldn’t have the strength to pull him to you. So he stayed put, watching to crawl to him and hoping time would pass faster.

“Chishiya i-”

“You’re almost there. Just a bit more.”

“I don’t think i can…Shiya i’m so tired.”

“Just a little more, come on.”

Your body sagged slightly into the ground,your breath coming uneven. You didn’t want to give up but everything hurt so bad. The sound of your name caused you to raise your head. Your eyes found Chishiya’s face, observing the look on it. Was he crying? No. Not Chishiya. He wouldn’t cry. Would he?

“You promised.”

The way his voice broke as he said the words was the motivation you needed. You took a deep breath in, clenching your teeth as you dragged your body forward the rest of the way. You grabbed onto his leg, using it to hoist yourself next to him. Just the feeling of his body beneath your hand made you relax. You’d gotten to him. You’d done it.

Chishiya helped you drag yourself into a sitting position as best he could but with his injured arm you had to do most of the work. You let out one last groan as you settled next to Chishiya. You turned your head so that you could look at him. He was already looking at you, his eyes glossy with tears he denied himself to shed. You placed your hand on his cheek, ignoring the sting that ran through your arm as you lifted it.

“I made it. Like I promised.”

Chishiya smiled at your words. He couldn’t help it. Being around you always seemed to put him in a good mood. You leaned your head against his,eyes closing as you enjoyed his proximity. You were both on the verge of death, your bodies banged up beyond anything you’d ever imagined. You were stuck in a game you didn’t know the reason for. But none of that mattered. Not when you could feel his hand wrapping around yours. Or his lips against yours as you finally allowed yourself to kiss him.

“I’m so tired.”

“Me too.”

You moved so that your head could rest against his shoulder. He gave your hand a small squeeze as he settled his head on top of yours.

“Can’t believe it took me getting shot for you to kiss me.”

“Shut up.”

Chishiya tried to laugh but the movement caused him to groan out in pain. You couldn’t help but smile. Even in pain Chishiya couldn’t help but tease you for liking him.

“Plus, it's not like you made any attempts of your own Shiya.”

“Would you have let me if I had?”

“Of course I would have.”

The two of you became silent for a moment, listening to each other's breath. You closed your eyes, your loss of blood making your brain fuzzy.

“Chishiya?”

“Yeah?”

“Wake me up when Arisu and Usagi beat the game ok?”

“Okay. Just don’t go dying on me.”

“I won’t.”

You awoke to the sound of a robotic voice. It took you a while to remember where you were, you’d been consumed by a pleasant dream minutes before waking up so you were a bit disoriented. You felt Chishiya squeeze your hand, causing you to shift to look at him.

“They did it. They beat the queen of hearts.”

“Of course they did. They’re Arisu and Usagi, together they can do anything.”

“Players please make your choice. Do you want to become a citizen of this place?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer, you’d known you wanted to go back since the moment you arrived.

“I don’t want it. Keep your damn citizenship.”

Chishiya let out a huff of amusement beside you. You looked at him, a small twinge of dread entering your heart as you analysed his face. He would deny it. Right? He called out your name, eyes tracing over yor face as you looked up at him.

“Yes?”

“Promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“When we get back to the real world make sure you find me.”

You smiled at him, inching yourself closer so that you could place a kiss on his lips.

“I swear Chishiya. I’ll find you again.”

He smiled at you before turning to face the sky.

“I deny it.”

Everything was dark. And then all of a sudden you could hear the sounds of monitors. You blinked at the harsh lighting, trying to get your eyes to adjust to it. Once you'd managed to get over the sudden brightness you glanced down at your body, eyes catching on the cast around your leg. A doctor made his way into the room.

“Oh good you’re awake.”

“What happened?”

“There was an explosion. You broke your leg but luckily it wasn’t too bad. You’ll be able to walk normally in a couple months.”

You felt like something was missing. Something important. But you couldn’t remember what. You gazed out the window, seeing the way the sun shone brightly outside. You turned back to look at the doctor.

“Could I go outside?”

“Sure, I'll go get you a wheelchair.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor had tried to help you get outside but you guaranteed him that it wasn’t necessary. You could handle it on your own. You were wheeling yourself towards the exit when something caught your eye. Through one of the room's windows you caught a glimpse of a young man. You didn’t know why but you felt pulled towards him. One of the nurses caught you looking inside the room and opened that door for you after you’d told her you knew the man. It wasn’t a complete lie. You were sure you’d never met him but you felt like he wasn't just a stranger.

You wheeled yourself to the edge of his bed, watching him in silence for a moment. Your hand twitched against your thigh, a need to reach out and grab his hand almost consuming you. After a while you allowed yourself to follow the urge. Your hand wrapped around his, squeezing it gently.

Chishiya’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling of something around his hand. He looked down, searching for the culprit of the contact. His eyes fell onto your hand, his gaze following your arm until he was looking at you. He squinted against the sunlight, trying to force his eyes to focus on your frame. A small gasp left your lips as he looked at you. The memories didn’t come rushing back but before you could stop yourself your lips opened to whisper.

“Chishiya.”

The young man smiled up at you.

“You found me.”

#chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya x you #alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #aib fanfic #shuntaro chishiya #fluff #agnst

270 notes · View notes

fxndxm-axg · 6 months ago

Text

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

MODERN AU Arthur Morgan NSFW Headcanon’s

(GN!POV, mostly)

I thought I’d do Low!Honor next, but I got inspired and did MAU because oh my god would he be the perfect lover in this godforsaken hellscape that is dating and sex nowadays. I also renamed this post to NSFW instead of “sex” so if can reach more aspects of the sexual experience outside of just oral/anal/penetrative sex, etc. Also isn't it crazy just how realistic this photo I took of Arthur is holy shit-

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Doesn’t watch porn often nor as the hankering to. But in those really lonely moments, especially after a long, stressful day at work (definitely some blue-collar job), he knows masturbating is a decent source to help relieve some of his stress. His preference of porn is relatively simple, opting for soft core genres, not enjoying the roughness imposed upon especially women in the videos. His favorites genres include POV cowgirl-position videos for immersion, amateur lesbian as he appreciates the softness many of the women have towards one another, and mutual masturbation. He does feel ashamed after watching porn, though, wondering how he’d stoop so low to his own desire to do something so “silly.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Does not and will not send nudes unless in a long term, committed relationship. The first time his lover asked for some, he was staunch in his disapproval for them, as he can’t find any enjoyment in looking at his own body for long, ramping up his insecurities. But after so long, he came around to the idea to please them, needing his lover to send them first in order to get hard- which he does relatively quickly. They’re usually faceless, sometimes not even shirtless, but god does he grunt and stroke himself hard and good in those video swaps. Phone sex is definitely on the table though- if he’s worked up enough anyways, those filthy words just flow out of him. Arthur’s more than fine imagining his lover across the line doing exactly what he tells them. (“Yeah, bet you miss me so much. Miss this cock buryin’ deep in your hole… Louder, baby, let me hear you touch yourself. You sound so pretty moanin’ for me.~”)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Definitely didn’t care for using toys on his lovers in his youth. His ego only allowed himself to be the one to get them off. But as he grew older, and became more informed and sometimes even lectured by lovers, he became more open to them. But now, he revels in how easily they can help his lover get off, using them both for and against them. As a simple service top, adhering to their wants, he’ll use the toy against or in their sex (“Bet that feels good, huh?,” “You want it stronger, darlin’?,” “Is it too much, heh, ‘cuz you’re squirmin’…~”). Also uses the sex toys while taking a dominant lead, chuckling and teasing at how worked up they his lover gets while being edged and/or overstimulated by him, finding drunk from of it (“C’mon, ‘ya can hold on a bit longer, don’t cum yet, sweetheart~,” “I’m not lettin’ ‘ya up ‘til you’re screamin’…”).

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Often shoots down their partner’s refusals to sex on account of them not being shaved. Snorts, and waves off their words, pulling them close by the waist as he says, “Darlin’, I’m a grown man. A lil’ hair ain’t gonna bother me.” He truly will take his lover in any state, if he’s so horny enough.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Will always use a condom. The fear of pregnancy and STDs permeates his mind before and sometimes in the middle of any sexual encounter. If he has any sort of fear that he came in a female, especially if the condom breaks, Arthur has no qualms in buying them a Plan B, pregnancy tests, and checking up with them through the scare. (It’s always negative.)

I hope y’all enjoyed these! I can go on and on about the shit I’ve done in MAU roleplays with this man, but I’d rather not embarrass myself too much. Yes pegging him was so so fun though omg

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #headcanons #modern au #rdr2 modern au #imagine him in carthartt or magellan #IM DROOLINGGG #i wish he was real

141 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 9 months ago

Text

Good girls punch hard (1) - Kinktober 7

Summary: You. A baseball bat. An admirer.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warnings: light violence, lust at first sight, stalking vibes, mentions of drugs/weed

Kink: Lust at first sight

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Raymond had better plans. A cup of tea, a good smoke. Maybe he’d indulge and have a glass of his favorite wine.

Instead of enjoying the fruits of his labor, he’s walking along a filthy hallway. Raymond scrunches up his nose, asking himself why he must play babysitter for a junkie.

Push Pete and Bunny follow him hot on his heels. They were prepared to use force if they must. They are silent on their way toward the apartment.

“We go in, get the girl, and get back out,” Raymond makes sure the men know he’s not up to violence. This should be an easy job – junkies and a princess in need—a classic.

“Open the fucking door or I’ll tear it down!” The men stop in their tracks watching you yell at the closed door. One of the bastards dared to slam it in your face. “I know Jasmine is in there. Send her out, and I won’t smash your skull!”

“Boss?” Bunny asks. “What do you want us to do?”

Raymond dips his head. It’s been a while since he found something amusing. He smirks when you swing your pink bat, hitting the door with full force.

“Wait. Let her have her fun. We’ve got some time,” Raymond smirks as you kick the door. The man gasps as they hear a cracking sound. You kick it again, and the door flies open. “Whoa, she’s stronger than she looks like.”

“Lady! What the fuck!” One of the junkies jumps up to block your path, but you use your bat to shove him out of your way. “That’s my home!”

“That’s a rat-infested and stinking shithole!” You snarl in his direction before turning your attention toward Jasmine. One of the other guys tried to push a needle in her arm, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. You twist it until he screams in pain.

“Aunt Y/N,” Jasmine mutters. “I only tried to have fun and get a little high. You partied too. For once, I wanted to be cool.”

“If you want to get a kick, do it like everyone did. Smoke a big fat joint helping you relax and make you feel good. No one shoots that kind of shit into their veins to try. You’ll get addicted and end up like those assholes.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten addicted,” she whines. “Why do adults always have to ruin all the fun for me?”

You grit your teeth. Jasmine isn’t the smartest, but she was a good girl before she met the losers shooting dirt into their veins.

“Do you want to waste your life, youth, and brain to get addicted to stuff making you go crazy, or offer your ass to the next best guy for the next shot?”

That makes her flinch. Her eyes flick toward the guys promising her a good time.

“She wanted to be a big girl and get dick, mommy!” One of the junkies’ snickers. “Good girls don’t get dick.”

You swing the bat, almost hitting his head. “I was a good girl too, asshat. I got the best dicks in town because smart and eloquent guys know a good girl’s worth. She doesn’t need a limp dick to ruin her first time.” You snap at the guy, making Raymond and the others chuckle.

You twirl around, to face the men entering the dingy apartment, instinctively shoving Jasmine, behind your back to protect her. The leader furrows his brows. He looks at your niece behind your back and then at you.

“Whatever business you’ve got to do with these crackheads, it’s your turn. I’m done here. I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t seen me.” You look the leader straight in the eyes, not showing any sign of weakness.

“Does she have anything to do with these,” the leader scrunches up his nose as he looks at the boys, “people?”

“No,” Jasmine blurs out. “They wanted to show me a good time, and make sure I’ll be cool soon but…I didn’t mean to…”

“Got it,” he says and nods toward you. “What’s your name?”

You size the man up while tightening the hold on your baseball bat. “I told you; I’m done here. It’s your show now. We shouldn’t exchange pleasantries, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” One of the boys laughs as you shove Jasmine toward the door. “I bet she’s a good little bitch if you give her the good shit.”

Raymond backhands the boy. He gets a wet wipe out to clean his hand before turning his attention toward the girl they came for.

It doesn’t take Raymond long to convince the missing princess to agree on following them out of the shithole.

“So, now that the princess is gone I got one more question for you,” he points his index finger at one of them. “What’s the aunt’s name?”

They glance at Bunny, a fridge of a man standing behind Raymond.

“Do I stutter?” Raymond gets a little louder. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and huffs.

“No, but we know Jasmine’s name, and I took a picture of her hot aunt,” Raymond snatches the phone out of the grinning boy’s hand. He narrows his eyes because it’s a picture of your ass and legs.

Raymond pockets the phone and turns around to leave the dingy apartment. After being here, he’ll disinfect his whole body and burn his clothes.

“He’s not so useless after all,” Raymond talks to himself as he looks at the picture of you on his laptop. Your car is in the picture too. He can see the license plate.

Raymond leans back in his expensive armchair, debating whether to find out more about the woman swinging the bat or not…

“I thought we agreed on forgetting that we met.” You glare at the man standing in front of your door. “Did you not listen?”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” Raymond replies with a smirk. “I let you and your niece go because you didn’t have anything to do with these creatures.” He steps closer, stopping you from closing the door with his foot.

“What do you want here?” You glance at the baseball bat standing next to the door. “How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he casually replies. “I thought we could go for tea. I know a nice tea house not far away.”

You blink a few times. “Buddy, did you hit your head?” You question. “We met at a junkie shithole, and you come here to ask me out?”

Raymond adjusts his glasses. He looks at you, waiting for an answer. “Which sort do you prefer?”

“Sort?” You furrow your brows.

“Tea.”

“I don’t even know your name. Why would I agree to go anywhere with you?”

“Name’s Raymond,” he holds out his hand. “If you come with me, I don’t have to follow you around town.”

You sigh. “You’re another love-sick puppy, huh? Is it the baseball bat?” You dip your head to look him up and down. “Fine, if you pay for my tea, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Tags in reblog.

#raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #the gentlemen fanfiction #raymond x reader #raymond smith x fem!reader #Good girls punch hard

180 notes · View notes

naughtyneganjdm · 1 year ago

Text

For I Have Sinned

Summary: Since Negan was brought to Alexandria, you have been attracted to him. One day you find Negan dressed up like Father Gabriel and instantly find yourself turned on by the attire. After fantasizing about him all night, you decide to admit your feelings to Negan in a confession.

Characters: Negan, Aaron, Father Gabriel & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57469084

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, breeding kink, dirty talk, priest! Negan, Public Play in a Church, Rough, etc.

Notes: This is more so Negan as a priest in training lol, but I just ran with it. It's just another filthy one shot from me. I hope you like it!

The unbearable heat was starting to break you down. It had been one of the hottest summers that you could think of in years. After the world fell to shit you thought there would be a lot of downtime, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Living in Alexandria meant you were working all the time. Non-stop. More than you would have ever done before when the world was normal. But it exhausted you. Being a sweaty mess and sore at the end of the day only to know you had to do it all over again tomorrow didn’t appeal to you. It was exhausting.

“Pick up the pace,” Aaron’s voice called out to you when you took a minute outside the gates of Alexandria to catch your breath. Shooting a glare at Aaron instead of fighting with him, you just pushed forward and headed back into town. Aaron slowed down to keep up with you and you kind of were just ready to be done at this point. You liked Aaron and he was a good friend of yours, but you were just exhausted. “Do you need a day off tomorrow? You look whipped.”

“I am,” you confessed feeling Aaron stopping, reaching out to grab your arm to get a look at you. “I don’t mean to whine Aaron, but I’m completely drained. It’s been non-stop with little to no rehabilitation for my body. I’m willing to do some smaller work around here, but out there I’m really putting my everything into things.”

“I’ll get you a week or so working inside the walls,” Aaron promised starting to talk to you about some things, but in the distance something else caught your eye. It kept you from hearing whatever Aaron was saying to you when your eyes followed the movements of what looked like Negan working on the church at the center of town. What shocked you the most was seeing that he wasn’t dressed like what you were used to seeing him in. He was wearing all black with the white collar of a priest. Almost like he was wearing Gabriel’s clothes. It had been a while since you had seen Negan but seeing that shocked you. You must have been gazing away too long because suddenly you had Aaron’s fingertips snapping in your face to get your attention back. “I lost you there.”

“You did. I won’t lie,” you pointed toward the church where Negan was hammering something in. Once Aaron saw what you were focused on, he rolled his eyes and huffed out loud. “I’m floored to see Negan wearing what he’s wearing. Is this a joke of some kind? Is it Halloween or…something?”

“No, this is Gabriel’s way of trying to fix him and prove that he’s changed,” Aaron scoffed, folding his arms out in front of his chest. The disgust over Aaron’s face told you everything about how he felt about the situation. “Gabriel is putting him through the trials of becoming a priest.”

You couldn’t help but laugh hearing that one. Negan? Of all people being a priest? Yeah, that was a crazy thought. Only if hell froze over. After all the time you spent with Negan when you would be the one that brought him his meals and talked with him, him being a priest was almost joke worthy for you.

"I still can’t believe the two of you are friends. You have very questionable taste in people,” Aaron grumbled under his breath and it made you smirk.

“You know, you’re my friend,” you reminded him, tilting your head to the side to get a good look at Aaron, arching your eyebrow in a mischievous way. It made Aaron roll his eyes and he dropped his arms down at his sides. “I like Negan. I think he’s a different man and I got to know him when I went down there with him.”

“You were down there with him because no one else could stand him,” Aaron noticed the way you were staring at Negan again. You were gawking at Negan who dropped the hammer down at his side and reached up to wipe sweat away from his forehead. When he slicked his hair back you felt your pulse leap in your chest and a moment later Aaron was hitting your shoulder. “You are smitten with him. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Language, that’s a priest you are talking about,” you teased Aaron, still keeping your attention on Negan never realizing before that you had some kind of kink for a priest, but with Negan wearing that you were starting to believe that you did. “Negan is a very attractive man. I’m not blind.”

“But you’re crazy,” Aaron commented and you tipped your head from side to side before shrugging. “For the love of God…”

“Now that you say that…” you stepped forward toward the church feeling Aaron reaching out for you. “I guess I could go show God some love.”

“Oh come on,” Aaron called out to you when you pulled away from him. Waving him off without looking back at him, you approached the church and leaned in.

“Working hard?” you whispered causing Negan to jump and he looked back at you. When he noticed it was you, a smirk tugged at his lips and he turned on his heel.

“Don’t you know to never scare someone holding a fucking hammer?” Negan waved the hammer about before moving forward to wrap an arm around you to pull you close to hug you. Having his short beard rubbing up against the side of your face made your eyes slam shut. God, this was what being close to him would always do to you. “Where have you been stranger?”

“Working my ass off,” you informed him with a sigh. It started to make you panic with him hugging you wondering just how much you may have smelled back with you working hard outside all day long.

“Oh?” Negan’s eyebrow arched up, his dimples sinking in when he pulled back to look you over. Urging you to turn on your heel, you weren’t sure what he was going with when he looked down at your bottom. “Nope, it’s still there.”

“Negan,” you laughed when you felt him smack your ass in a playful manner. Turning to face him, you watched the wolfish smile expand over his handsome features. “That’s not very God like. With you being a priest now and everything.”

“I…oh,” Negan looked down at what he was wearing. His face flushed over and he grumbled to himself. Lifting his head, his dimples sank in and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m brand new at this whole thing. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but why did you do this? You look…ridiculous,” you couldn’t help but giggle seeing the way that his eyes avoided you. “I mean, not ridiculous. You’re very attractive and I like the whole look going on here for you, but you as a priest?”

“Yeah, I know,” Negan frowned, shrugging his shoulders while he tried to figure out what to say to you. “Because of everything I’ve done, Gabey boy thought it would be good for me to get in touch with God. So I guess I’m a priest in training. It really just means that I work on the church, clean things up, pass things out…”

“Did you even read the bible?” you wondered drawing his nose to wrinkle and he laughed.

“I did during my time locked up,” Negan answered with a sigh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark pants after he set the hammer down. “I had a lot of free time and Gabriel thought it would be good for me. There were some ridiculous fucking things in it, but I read it. I don’t agree with all of it, but if this helps people give me a chance and become a better person—I’m willing to try.”

“You don’t need to become a priest in order for you to become a better person,” you suggested to him hating to hear him say something like that. “I think you were already a better person, you just let these people get in your head.”

“I just want somewhere I feel like I belong,” Negan confessed with a saddened expression, lifting one of his hands to wave it about. “No one has really given me a chance here. You have, but I don’t get to see you much. Judith and Gabriel are the only two that have really put some effort into things with me. Gabriel was always preaching to me and he thought this was the only way for me to purify my soul.”

“So what do I call you now?” you reached out to playfully shove into the center of his chest causing a scoff to fall from his throat. “Father Negan?”

“Haha. Laugh it up,” Negan pulled his right hand out of his pocket and waved it about. “I think I look good you know. Black is my color and while I’m sweating my ass off in this, I can feel my soul purifying as we speak.”

“Oh, I see,” you smirked folding your arms out in front of your chest while gazing him over. “You know, it would be a lot hotter if you tore the arms off of that shirt. It’d be like you stepped right out of my dreams. A stripper priest. I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

“Fucking hell…” Negan breathed out, his thick eyebrows bouncing up when he inhaled sharply. “You shouldn’t be talking like that. I can’t…I can’t be thinking the way you’re making me think right now with the way you are saying things. We talked about this in the past. The two of us…”

“The two of us kissed and I would have been okay with going the whole way, but you stopped me. Every time,” you reminded him of your past and he sighed, shifting on his feet. Rocking back and forth on them, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed dramatically. “I was never quite your type, huh?”

“That’s not true,” Negan immediately denied, shaking his head and letting out an irritated breath. “I was never good enough for you. That was the problem. This? This feels almost like a punishment doing this whole priest thing. It’s what I deserve. Someone caring about me and wanting to be with me? I don’t really deserve that. You know that just as much as I do.”

“Negan,” Gabriel’s voice called out breaking up the conversation between the two of you with Negan looking over his shoulder. Wiggling his fingers at Negan, Gabriel urged him back toward the church and Negan sighed. “Come along. I need to teach you some things.”

“Sure thing boss,” Negan was sarcastic in his response, giving you one final smirk before walking off. When Negan got to the door of the church, he stopped and let out a long sigh. It seemed like he wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t. Instead of looking back at you, his head slumped forward and he spoked quietly. “Goodbye.”

After that discussion, you stood there for a moment and pondered the things that Negan said. This really didn’t feel like something that Negan wanted. It was more so something he was punishing himself with. You could have gone after him, but you didn’t. You were tired. You needed a shower and you needed to rest. But all night long you thought about Negan. How wildly attracted you were to him and as fucked up as it was, you were extremely turned on by the whole black get up with the white collar he was wearing.

The more you thought about Negan that night, the more enchanted with the idea of Negan you became. And when you woke up in the morning you had a plan to get Negan’s attention. You were given a day off before you had to start helping out around Alexandria, so you were going to take advantage of it.

You made sure to dress in something that brought attention to some of your best assets. Something you knew that the old version of Negan would have liked. And you headed off to the church. You knew that it would have been best for you to stay home and rest. Hell, they were giving you some time off. You should have taken them up on their offer, but all you had on your mind was Negan.

Once you were inside the church, you were surprised with it being empty. Empty except for Negan at the front of it sweeping something up. With how hard they had been working to fix up the church, you assumed that there would be more than just Negan in there.

Clearing your throat managed to get Negan to lift his head up. When his eyes fell upon you, his eyebrows bounced up in surprise. Setting the broom at the back corner of the church, Negan moved across the way to step before you. A weak smile tugged at his lips and his eyes fell to the dip in your shirt that showed off your breasts. Well that was a success.

“Uhm,” Negan spoke uneasily, forcing himself to look away from your breasts. “What are you doing here?”

“You know, after our conversation, I got to thinking last night,” you looked around the church and saw that Negan’s head tipped, his eyes hooked on you when you nodded toward the confessional in the back corner. “It’s been a long time since I did a confession and I was thinking maybe I should do one.”

“Oh, I don’t really do that,” Negan looked over his shoulder, his body shifting uncomfortably like he was looking for someone else. “I’m really just like a priest in training so to speak or some shit. I don’t know. You might want to grab Gabriel and do that if you really want to talk to someone.”

“Well, I’m not really all that religious so we can train together,” you suggested pointing back toward the booth that was there and Negan cleared his throat. “What do you think? You want to give it a try? I can confess my sins to you and you can help…”

“Absolve you of your sins?” Negan finished for you having your smile grow larger over your face and you nodded. Looking around, Negan seemed nervous before he shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. “I guess we can do that. Gabriel is around here somewhere and he doesn’t have a service for a while. So…why the fuck not.”

“Are you supposed to be talking like that?” you teased him, moving in beside him when his hand pressed in over your lower back to lead you toward the confessional.

“I’m pretty sure someone said swearing makes you closer to God,” Negan spoke up, his head tipping from side to side. “Or some shit like that.”

“That sounds fake,” you noted, stepping before the confessional with Negan. He let out a long, expressive exhale before looking to you. “You should go first. Since you’re the priest and everything.”

“Right,” Negan frowned, moving forward, opening the door to the confessional that was there and when he closed the door you smiled.

Moving into the other side, you heard movement through the screen that was between the two of you showing that Negan was trying to get comfortable. Once you sat down, a warmth surrounded you and you realized that it wasn’t all that comfortable in here.

“Do I just talk through this screen or…?” you were confused how this thing was supposed to go since it had been so long since you even stepped into a church considering the circumstances.

“I don’t fucking know,” Negan pushed at something on the other end before the screen opened and revealed him sitting at the other end. “Maybe this is wrong. Maybe the screen is supposed to stay closed or…”

“Let’s just…do this,” you calmed him, throwing your hands up in the air noticing that he was looking down toward the ground as if trying to give you some privacy to talk about whatever it was you wanted to confess to him. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

Negan was quiet, but it made him smirk and his dimples became more prominent when you started. He was amused. Which was better than him actually taking this seriously, “It’s been a really long fucking time since I’ve done one of these things…”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say,” Negan offered and you gave him a glare. Throwing his hands up in the air, Negan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Go ahead my child.”

“God don’t say that,” you snickered hearing him laugh in return before you got even more comfortable where you were sitting. “You see father, I haven’t been a very good girl. For the longest time now I’ve had feelings for this guy that I met. He was a prisoner…” a bit of color flushed into Negan’s face when his dark eyes slowly lifted to meet your stare. “And yesterday I saw him in his priest get up for the first time and I was so very turned on by it. After talking to him, I went home and all I could think about was him. I could barely sleep.”

“What are you doing…” Negan breathed out, his long eyelashes fluttering when you hushed him and shook your head.

“You see father, I kept thinking about his hands. He has the nicest hands and they are so big. At first I thought about him undressing me with those hands. I thought about how long it would take him to caress all over my body. And then I started to touch myself…”

You made sure that Negan was looking at you when you dragged your fingers down over your shoulder, over the center of your breasts before dragging your hand across one of them. It had Negan shifting uncomfortable, licking at his lips.

“The way I wanted him to touch me,” you whispered squeezing and palming at your flesh leaving his lips to part. Nothing came out, but you could tell that you had him hooked. “I thought about his hand traveling lower between my thighs…”

The movement of your hand followed your words with you dragging your palm down over the lengths of your abdomen between your thighs. Pressing your legs further apart, you palmed in over your body purring out causing his breathing to grow louder.

“And then all I could think about was him using his fingers to pleasure me,” you panted, biting down on your bottom lip while your caress continued over your body. “But then I got to thinking about his cock. And how hard it would be straining against his pants. How badly I wanted to take him out of his pants and into my mouth.”

A grunt fell from Negan’s throat and you couldn’t help, but smile seeing the way he looked like he was sweating on the other side of the confessional, “I want nothing more than to have his throbbing cock in my mouth. I want it so bad. And the very idea of it just makes my pussy wet father. Once I get his cock nice and wet, I want him to fill my tight little cunt with his cock and fuck me senseless. I want him to fill my pussy with his cum until it is seeping down my thighs…”

“This is wrong,” Negan went to get up, but you shifted quick, stretching your arm out to curl your fingers around the back of Negan’s neck. Pulling him to you brought his lips to yours. Over and over again you tried to kiss him into temptation. And at first it seemed like he was fighting it, until the flick of your tongue drew his lips to part. Accepting the warm brush of your tongue over his, Negan growled against your flesh and it had your heart hammering away in your chest. “Fuck it…”

Pushing further at the window that kept the two of you separate, Negan managed to grab a hold of you to pull you into his side of the booth with him. You both laughed at the way you struggled to fully get in before Negan fell back into the corner of his side. Once you were firmly on your feet in the cramped space with Negan, your hands palmed up and over Negan’s body hearing him breathing loudly.

“How hard is your cock right now?” you whispered, lowering your palm over the front of his pants to give his body a firm squeeze. It had his hips bouncing forward into your grasp with a proud smile tugging at your lips. “You’re meant to be a daddy figure Negan, not a priest. No matter how fuck hot you look in this.”

Negan was breathing loudly, his hands squeezing at your hips while his lips hovered just over yours, “Your cock is just begging for a release after this long, isn’t it?”

Teasing him, you brought your lips close enough to drag them over his and swiftly worked to open the belt in Negan’s pants. Unhooking it, you undid the button and his zipper, pressing your body up against his with his breathing growing louder. His thick eyebrows furrowed when you started nibbling at his bottom lip. Dipping your hand beneath the material of Negan’s pants had him moaning out when your fingers curled around the warmth of his flesh.

“You’re meant to be a bad boy Negan,” you slurred, working his erection from the confines of the pants that he was wearing. Unhurriedly you started to caress over the length of his manhood, taking your time to watch his reactions while you touched him. “Your cock is too big to waste. You’re meant to breed Negan. Not preach.”

“Breed?” Negan muttered, the vein at the side of his neck bulging when his eyelids grew heavy. “But the people here…”

“The people have no idea what you are capable of and you shouldn’t give a shit what they think,” you urged him, the motions of your hand over his body growing stronger and it had him biting down on his bottom lip. Bringing you two closer together, Negan lowered his hand and it pressed between your thighs touching you in the ways you had wanted for so long. “Good boy.”

Pumping your hand over Negan’s cock, you got a nice throaty moan out of him with his forehead pressing up against yours.

“You have a choice Negan,” you licked your lips hearing him moan faintly under his breath. “Do you want to continue to sweep the floors and be these people’s minion or do you want to put that fat cock of yours inside of me? Because more than anything, I want to fuck you so bad it hurts. My pussy is throbbing just thinking about it…”

“Fuck me,” Negan hissed out, his hands desperately pulling apart your pants so he could make enough room to push his hand beneath the material. It had you stepping up on your toes when he palmed in over the warmth of your flesh. It had his eyelids growing heavier, his breathing louder when his fingertips traced over the length of your sex.

Reaching for Negan’s wrist, you pulled it from your pants and lifted his hands to his lips. Urging him to take his finger between his lips had him groaning out when the taste of you lingered over his tongue. Humming out, Negan dropped his hand and you lowered down to your knees. Instead of the worried glances he had before, a wolfish smile tugged at his lips when you press a wet kiss at the tip of his cock. Dragging your tongue out, you teased at the slit before taking him between your parted lips.

“Fuck,” Negan hummed out, his head dropping back. Both of his hands pressed against the walls of the booth and you took your time to lower your head over the length of him before pulling back. Grasping firmly to the base of his cock, you gradually allowed your movements to grow harder and faster. Wincing out, Negan dropped his hands down with one hooking into your hair and the other caressing at the back of your neck. Starting to thrust his hips up toward your mouth had you gagging with the way his cock hit the back of your throat but you were doing your best to pleasure him while he fucked your mouth. “That’s enough.”

A wet popping sound filled the small booth with Negan pulling you up. Swiftly pushing at the material of your pants, Negan pressed you firmly against the wall of the confessional and reached for his girthy length. Teasing the swollen tip between your slick folds had you purring out.

“Come on daddy, take what you want,” you urged and it had Negan chuckling faintly before working one of your pant legs away from your body. Pressing you against the wall, Negan persuaded your leg around his waist before eagerly sinking into the warmth of your body. The moan he made was loud, there was no hiding it at this point. Holding tightly to Negan, the first thrust of his manhood inside of you was hard and you didn’t want to fall over. Then the next thrust followed suit. “Don’t hold back. Just fuck my pussy as hard as you can. With how long it’s been, I want you to be balls deep inside of me by the time you come and fill me with all that you’ve been holding in.”

“As you wish,” Negan’s nose nuzzled in against yours, his thrusts starting off hard and fast. It had your flesh smacking together while you desperately tried to hold onto him. Your lips met his and you tried to kiss away your cries of pleasure. He was doing exactly as you asked of him. Fucking you hard, fast and it felt so fucking good. The extra added sensation of knowing that this was in a church in a confessional just turned you on all the more. Crying out, you tipped your head back feeling Negan’s hand loosely wrapping around your throat. Once the pressure started to be applied you hummed out in pleasure enjoying the pain that came with it. “God you feel so fucking good.”

Gasping out, you felt Negan tugging at the material of your shirt at the neck. Pulling it down, Negan managed to drop his head low enough to take your breast between his lips. Kissing, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until he had your nipple into a tight peak. Tugging at his hair, you brought his mouth back to yours and dragged your tongue out over his lips.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me since the first day I met you,” you informed him with a purr, wincing out when Negan’s hips bounced firmly up toward you having him fill you completely with his cock. An amused expression flooded Negan’s face when you shook your head. “You don’t need to be a priest to be close to God Negan…”

Dropping your hands, you tugged at Negan’s black shirt using the strength that you had to rip it open. It had the buttons hitting the ground and an amused rumble fell from Negan’s throat, “All you have to do is be inside of this pussy and it’s yours. It’s all yours…”

“I like the sound of that,” Negan growled as you pushed into the center of his chest to get him to fall back onto the bench. Crawling in over his lap, your nails bit at his chest and he growled out. His hands palmed in over your ass when you took advantage to lower yourself over his throbbing length. “You make a good sell…”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make a hot priest,” you sucked faintly at Negan’s bottom lip, wincing when you allowed him to fill you again. Smacking at his shoulder, you weren’t used to the sensation of this since it had been so long, but you enjoyed the small amounts of pain that came with it. “But I want you to be mine.”

“You want to be mine,” Negan corrected you, his right hand reaching up to grab a hold of your jaw while you bounced your hips over his. Eagerly, his hips matched your movements and you let out a surprised sound at the sound the booth was making with the two of you inside of it. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan smiled and a moan fell from his throat. “I accept.”

“Good boy,” you complimented him, brushing your fingers through his hair to mess it. Adjusting your position, you found a way to move that made both of you louder in the way you expressed your pleasure. Each plunge of his cock into your depths had the two of you crying out in unison. “Come on Father Negan…”

Reaching back, your fingers caressed over his testicles having him hum out at the sensation with his thighs flexing beneath you, “You know you want to come inside of me.”

“So fucking much,” Negan growled, his hazel eyes hooked on yours dropping his hand down between the two of you. Circling the rough pad of his thumb over your clit, Negan was working on your sensitive bundle of nerves having you pant out with every movement you made. Your hips bounced up toward his thumb when you would allow his cock to pull out of your body before you swiftly dropped them back again. “You take that cock so good honey.”

There was a fire building in your belly and you rolled your hips faster over his, desperate to reach a moment of bliss that had been building up for you. With a cry, you threw your head back and Negan hungrily kissed over the side of your neck. Your orgasm hit you hard, but it didn’t give you the time to relax when Negan pressed you slightly back so that you were pressed against the wall opposite of him. Reaching down for your wrists, Negan hooked his fingers firmly around them and started bouncing his hips up toward you over and over again. His testicles smacked up against you with every hard pounding thrust and you couldn’t hide your moans.

“Almost there,” Negan informed you, his jaw tensing and the lines in his forehead growing. By how hard he was holding onto your wrists and with his jaw clenching you could see that his orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Make that pussy yours Negan,” you urged with his thrusts growing even stronger. You knew that you would be feeling this later, but you didn’t care. You wanted this so bad and you were thankful that you were able to make it happen.

Pulling you forward, Negan had you falling in against his chest with your head resting against his shoulder. Squeezing his hands firmly over your ass, Negan continued his thrusts until his groan filled the air and one final thrust upward had you bouncing upward feeling the throbbing of his cock inside of you. Moaning into the side of your neck, Negan stroked his fingers over your hair and you reached back to feel his balls straining while he filled you with line after line of his cum. You both were soaked with sweat. It was like a sauna in this thing, but neither of you seemed to care.

“Is everything okay in here?” the light from the church flooded into the confessional with you gasping out and pulling yourself in closer to Negan after the door was opened. Negan’s hips were still partially bouncing up toward yours with his orgasm and you whined out. The voice you knew too well and you knew that it was Gabriel that had just found the two of you right at the end of your sex act together. “What the hell Negan?”

“Goddamn it,” Negan grunted one final time, biting at your chin when you felt your thighs twitching over Negan. “Gabey boy, you are incredibly bad at timing.”

Negan’s breathing was loud, but you could tell by the sound of his voice that he was amused that Gabe was still there. Stealing a quick look you could tell that Gabriel was shocked and locked into position. Burying your face again had Negan laughing and he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Can we fucking have a minute with God here?” Negan requested and Gabriel shakily reached for the door to close it. It had Negan laughing against the side of your neck and you felt like everything was spinning. “Well that was…”

“Unexpected,” you finished hearing Negan snickering against the side of your neck. Lowering your head, you looked down between the two of you to see Negan’s cock still filling you. Keeping your eyes locked on it, you slowly lifted your hips enjoying the way his cock looked as it slowly left your body. When you reached the tip, it pulled from you with a wet sound and smacked up against his lower abdomen. Whimpering out, you watched some of his cum dripping from your body onto his thighs and you licked your lips.

“Did that feel good?” Negan lowered his hand to rub at your sensitive flesh. It had you whining out and he smiled when two of his fingers pressed inside of you to thrust them into your already highly stimulated body.

“So good,” you replied, meeting his lips in a drawn-out kiss that had him humming against your flesh. “I feel like you’re capable of more though.”

“Is that a challenge?” Negan smirked, looking down at his cock twitching and he growled out.

“That’s me begging you to do your worst,” you alerted him and he smirked. Tipping his head to the side, Negan shook his head and then passionately kissed you. Giving you a minute to gain back your strength, the both of you got dressed to the best of your ability before Negan reached for your hand. Once you moved out of the confessional with Negan, you could see that Gabriel was sitting at one of the benches giving you both a disapproving look.

“Sorry Gabey boy,” Negan reached for the white collar that was in his shirt, tugging it out and tossing it to Gabriel who fumbled with it. “There are some things I won’t give up, even for God. We’re going to my cell so I can actually fuck this beautiful lady right.”

Dropping his hand down, Negan squeezed over himself and you felt a rush of heat flooding into your face, “My crystal balls are telling me that we are going to be so fucking naughty that it’s something your eyes wouldn’t want to see again. These babies are aching after years of not being used, so they are ready to flood this hot little pussy with ready and willing swimmers.”

“God,” you choked out at the expression that Gabriel gave after Negan blurted all of that out.

“Also, there is cum all over that confessional. You might want to clean that up before you even think of using it,” Negan pointed back toward the area that you were in together when he started to lead you toward the door to church.

“Negan!” Gabriel called out to him and you could tell that Gabriel was not happy with how this was ending up.

“Sorry father. I’m on a mission from God here and I’ve got to do this right,” Negan hooked his arm around you, throwing you up over his shoulder and firmly smacking his hand over your bottom. “This whole father thing…it’s just not gonna work for me. I’m sure you understand.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

#Negan #Negan fanfiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #Negan x you #negan x reader #negan imagine #Negan Smith #Negan smut #The Walking Dead fanfiction

382 notes · View notes

ghostgirl-22 · 4 months ago

Note

art being obsessed with how patrick smells! stuffing his face in his armpits… licking his happy trail… burying himself in his bush as he gives him head! ohhhhhhhhh

Ay!! <3

CW: 18+ NSFW, EXPLICIT, tw: mention of piss (since y’all were talking about it so much i couldn’t resist), not proofread, basically, Art goes a bit crazy over dirty laundry

—-

There’s something about Patrick’s smell that drives Art a little crazy. Strong, fresh, heedy, masculine. It’s all over their bedroom now. Like he’s marking his territory. All of it used to smell mostly like Tashi, soft, airy light and feminine, lotions and perfumes and fruity smelling hair products and soaps which Art loves. But now Patrick’s smell lingers, competing with hers even when he’s not at home. All over the mass of clothes exploding out of the duffle he tossed carelessly on the floor of Art’s closet (“I’ll get around to folding em”), right next to his well worn sneakers. He bought new ones but hasnt thrown the old ones out yet.

It’s all over the bathroom, his deodorant spray, the mess of products he keeps in the bathroom for his beard, little bits of hair everywhere from his trimmer. A mess.

Art has always been a bit of a neat freak by comparison, clean and put together even when they were kids. Washing his gym clothes frequently, he was the only one to clean the bathroom and the bedroom regularly, folding and organizing when their mess got to be a bit too much. Patrick, not so much. But Art never minded it. Even liked it a bit. Patrick definitely tries to be good when they have sex, always after he’s clean, often just out of the shower because he thinks thats what Art wants.

Art knows he’s actually going insane though because his favorite smell right now is the laundry, Patricks used t-shirts. The smell of his dirty boxers. Sometimes when he knows no one will be home for hours he sits in the closest and sniffs them, inhaling the sharp thick smell of his sweat and body odor.

“Fuck Patrick… you’re such a dirty boy,” he hums to himself, eyes shut taking full deep breaths as his imagination runs wild.

He pulls his sweatpants down and slides his cock out. He’s so fucking hard, he wraps the fabric of Patricks dirty boxers around his cock and starts jerking. “Fuck you’re so gross, bet you get hard when you’re playing. Bet you just get so fucking horny when you nail a good shot, fucking precum stains all over your sweaty boxers. Fucking dirty boy. You can fuck me on the court.” Art breathes. “Fuck me right after you make an impossible shot… when your dripping with sweat. Wanna smell you. Fuck. I wanna taste you.” He can practically feel it, Patrick pinning him down, skin golden in the sunlight, sweat glistening all over his lean, solid, muscular frame. Pulling off his sweaty t-shirt and tossing it on Art’s face.

“Oh Patrick, oh fuck,” Art whines. “I can smell it all over your filthy boxers. I bet you fucking shake after your done pissing. I bet some still dribbles out after. You’re so gross I bet you fucking like it… I bet you wish you could use my mouth after. Let me lick it all up for you. Bet you’d get hard in my mouth if I got on my fucking knees for you. Oh shit.” Art shivers, thinking about it swallowing it down right after Patrick relieves himself. Tasting that bitter salty tang. Sucking the full length of him, as much as he can as Patrick grows bigger. Choking on it. Pressing his nose into the scruff of his pubic hair and taking a deep breaths while Patrick fucks into his mouth. “fuck.”

He jerks his fist faster. ”Mm Patrick. I’m getting your boxers all filthy too. Oh fuck. I do it all the fucking time and you don’t even know,” Art groans, deep in the fantasy. “You don’t even know I’m getting ‘em all wet. Feels so fucking good. My cock all covered in your raunchy sweat. ‘m gonna make a fucking mess all over em. You like that? ‘m gonna be so dirty for you. Stain your dirty boxers with my cum after they’ve been all over you…. God.

Filthy rich boy, you don’t have any fucking home training. Don’t know how to clean up after yourself. You just make a mess everywhere. I wanna be filthy too. Wanna feel your filthy sweaty dirty body all over mine… wanna smell you…lick your sweaty pits… wanna… Fuck.” Art moans, as the fabric fills up with his warm sticky seed. “mm yes, oh fuck yes. ‘m so sorry. Made a big fucking mess.” He sighs and stretches out his legs, taking deep breaths, it smells even stronger than when he first started. He blinks his eyes open.

Two feet away Patrick’s standing there, goofy smirk on his face, water bottle in hand and his tennis bag still slung over his shoulder. “Hey so… she let me leave early so she could go have lunch with her mom.” Patrick says, shit eating grin couldn’t be broader.

“Mmhm,” Art manages, his skin heating up as he pulls his sweats back up, lips pressed together because he knows there’s no talking his way out of this one. “How much did you—“

“All of it,” Patrick shrugs, he drops his tennis bag and steps closer, his sweaty shorts clinging to his thick muscular thighs. He brushes a hand idly over his visibly erect cock, barely contained by the waistband of his shorts. He taps his barefoot on the dirty boxers Art discarded on the floor between them. “So… you were saying?”

#tw: piss #challengers smut #art x patrick #artrick #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut

107 notes · View notes

whoisneo404 · 1 year ago

Note

im so obsessed w sub!nick and enemies to lovers rn pls work your magic 🙏

Stupid and Idiot.

Summary: Nick decides to bother you at a party so you decide to shut him up :3

Tw: reader drinks a bit, NSFW. Degradation? Oral sex, eating out, belt used as collar. (idk, I went kinda crazy).

The music is loud on my hears, people dancing around me as I walk to the kitchen to get another drink. The kitchen was surprisingly empty, most people were dancing on the living room or making out on random bedrooms. I open the fridge and take out a bottle with vodka and some orange juice, when I turn around and place them on the kitchen counter, I see Nick standing on the door frame smiling at me, I roll my eyes, that guy can’t leave me alone.

‘’Great, the idiot is here. Do you like me that much you came running here just to see me?’’ I say while starting to make my drink.

‘’Don’t be so full of yourself, in your dreams I come running to you.’’ He walks slowly towards me.

‘’In my dreams you don’t exist.’’ I take a sip of the drink and it burns my throat; I pour a bit more vodka on it.

‘’Sure, I bet you dream about me every night.’’

‘’Yeah, you are the creepy guy of my nightmares, the one that never leaves me the fuck alone so I punch in the face.’’ I smile at him. ‘’How about that? would you like to make my nightmares true?’’ this time he is the one he rolls his eyes at me; I finish the glass in one go to get out of the kitchen as fast as I can.

‘’You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.’’ Nick laughs and starts walking outside of the kitchen but I grab him by the shirt and push him into the wall, his chest and face against the tiles, my chest against his back.

‘’You would like that, won’t you? You filthy bitch. You just love railing me up.’’ A soft moan is muffled by his lips, I can feel him shaking against me and I smile against his ear. ‘’That’s why you are so fucking annoying? You just wanted to get fucked?’’

‘’S-Shut up.’’ He moans out, his hips backing up to meet mine, drawing tiny circles against my bulge.

‘’God, you are so pathetic.’’ I bite his neck playfully. ‘’Laundry room. Now.’’ I turn around walking to the door close to the fridge, I feel Nicks hands on my lower back, pushing me inside the room. I hear the door closing and locking behind me. I turn around and lean into the washing machine, crossing my arms over my chest and spreading my legs a bit. Nick is locking at the door and taking deep breaths. ‘’What? Not so brave now. Is the idiot to shy to talk?’’

‘’I’m not an idiot, you stupid fuck.’’ He turns around, his cheeks are red and he is clearly hard. I smile and tilt my head. ‘’Stop smiling! God, you are so fucking stupid.’’ He takes a step; he is standing right in front of me. ‘’I hate you, you are entitled, egocentric, arrogant and narcissistic.’’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘’You done, sweety?’’ Nick doesn’t say anything, he just looks away from me and crosses his arms. ‘’I’ll take that as a yes, then.’’ I grab him by the hips, turn him around and press him against the washing machine. His hands grab my shoulders, his eyes are wide and I feel him punch my shoulder not too hard. ‘’I don’t like brats. I prefer them more submissive and willing, but I think it will be fun to convert you, don’t you think so?’’ I whisper against his ear, my voice lower on purpose. My hands slowly pushing his shit up a bit.

‘’See, egocentric as fuck.’’ He murmurs and I laugh. I press my lips against his, my knee pressing against his bulge, his hands wrapping around my neck and playing with my hair. One of my hands slide down his shirt and up to his chest, a soft pant escaping his lips, my fingers playing with his nipple, his hips rolling and humping against mine. ‘’Fuck you.’’ He moans when I squeeze his nipple.

‘’I will, darling. Don’t worry.’’ I undo his belt, taking it out and putting it around his neck.

‘’W-what are you doing?’’ he grabs my hands softly.

‘’Don’t tell me nobody has done this to you?’’ he doesn’t answer. ‘’Oh, I’m sorry baby. they haven’t been fucking you good enough. You will love this; I just know it.’’ I buckle the belt around his neck, with enough room for m to fit three fingers between the leather and his skin. ‘’See, now I can move you around however I want to.’’

‘’Entitled idiot.’’ He mumbles and pulls me into a kiss, it’s sloppy and rough. He bites my lips and I bite back, our hips rubbing against each other. One of my hands slides down his pants, rubbing at his clothed cock.

‘’Want me to fuck you? Tell me, tell me how bad you want it.’’ I growl and he shakes his head.

‘’No, fuck off.’’ I smile and squeeze him before backing off. My back touches the wall and I pull the belt making him trip against me.

‘’On your knees.’’ I push him down and he kneels in front of me. ‘’Go on, if you suck me good enough, I might consider fucking you.’’ He frowns at me but undoes my pants and takes out my dick, his mouth opens and takes all of it, his head moving up and down rapidly. ‘’Fuck, you are such a whore.’’ My hand pulls on the belt a bit making him gag, his saliva running down his chin, muffled moans dying on his throat. ‘’God, you love this, don’t you? Bratty bitch.’’ His tongue moves around my length with experience, his blue eyes looking up at me in the dark room, I let out a pant and grab him by the hair, his hands move up from the floor to my thighs, form my thighs to my stomach, massaging up and down. I start moving his head up and down, feeling myself getting closer I pull his head away and his tongue hangs out. ‘’Not yet, get up.’’ He whines but gets up. ‘’Turn around.’’ He turns around and I push him against the washing machine, his back against my chest, both of my arms caging him in. ‘’See? Not so hard to be obedient.’’

I push him gently into the cold metal, bending him, his back arching. I pull down his jeans and boxers, his bare skin touching the cold metal, he lets out whimpers and soft moans, his whole-body shivering. ‘’Fuck me already.’’ He demands.

‘’Baby, you had it in your mouth, you know it won’t be that easy.’’ I massage his hips softly, taking in the sight. I kneel down, kissing softly at his thighs, I feel him squirming, I bite here and there leaving red marks all over him. I kiss his entrance and leave tiny licks all over it, he moans loudly when I finally push my tongue in, his hips sticking out and moving against my face while I eat him out, his moans get louder and louder, I leave one last kiss on his cheek before standing up again.

‘’Wha-Why did you stop?’’ he whines and I roll my eyes, so needy.

‘’Shut up, suck my fingers if you wanna be fucked.’’ I shove two of my fingers on his mouth and he doesn’t complain, his tongue starts moving around them, getting them wet really was, after a few more lips I pull them out. My hand travels down to his already wet hole, the two of my fingers slide in easily, I pump them in and out as fast as I can, his back arching, loud whines and moans leave his mouth pleading for more. His hands grabbing my shirt and pulling at it, I grab his arms and hold them behind his back with my other hand.

‘’Faster! Please.’’ I laugh, curling my fingers a bit hitting the right spot, a breathy moan scape his lips. ‘’Fuck! Right there, please, more.’’ His legs are trembling and his hips are buckling back at my hand.

‘’You gonna cum?’’ he moans in response. ‘’Yeah? Ask nicely.’’

‘’Please, I’m close, please, please!’’

I lean in so my mouth is against his ear. ‘’Good fucking boy.’’ He lets out a loud moan, his hips trembling more, I stick my fingers out and spank his ass. ‘’God, I didn’t even touch your dick. So filthy.’’ His ass is wiggling, backing up against me. I stand up, letting go of his arms. ‘’Want more, sweety?’’ he moans softly. ‘’Words whore. Words.’’

‘’Yes, yes. Please, want you inside.’’ He rubs himself against my hard dick, moaning softly. I spank him again.

‘’Don’t move then.’’ He stops moving, I grab my cock and pump it softly, pre cum falling into his hole, I slap my dick against his ass and slide it. ‘’That’s it. Good slut, arch your back, come on.’’ He raises his hips a bit, his back arching prettily. I reach out and grab the belt, my hips moving slowly against his, I roll my hips and trust slowly, his whimpers loud and his body sensitive.

‘’More! faster, please, please.’’ I tug the belt a bit, moving my hips faster and deeper, knocking the wind off his lungs, he is panting and drooling all over. The washing machine smashing rhythmically against the wall.

‘’That’s it babyboy, moan as loud as you want, no one will hear you.’’ I grunt, his hips moving on circles, buckling against mine, practically fucking himself on my dick. Our moans are loud, his legs shaky, the room is filled with the wet noises and the slams of our bodies, the music entering from the cracks of the door. I feel him twitching around me. ‘’Not yet, hold it in for me. Hold it.’’ He whines and I slap his ass. ‘’Good boy.’’ I move my hips a bit slower, but deeper. ‘’Were do you want it, baby?’’

‘’Inside, want it inside. Please, I need it.’’

‘’Good whore.’’ I lean in, my face against his ear, grunting and whispering at his ear. ‘’Cum for me, cum again.’’

‘’Fuck, fuck, fuck!’’ Nicks face goes down against the cold metal, his legs trembling. He is whinnying because my hips haven’t stopped moving. My grip at his hips tightens and with a few trusts more I feel myself go inside of him, as I slowly pull out, I can see white drops come out of both of us.

‘’Shit.’’ I chuckle. ‘’God, all I had to do to shut you up was this. You should have told me sooner.’’

‘’Fuck off.’’ He pants, holding himself up with his elbows.

‘’You okay there, brat? Want me to clean you up?’’ I coo near his ear, my hands rubbing his lover back and hips. ‘’Just so you know, good boys get to be cleaned up by my tongue.’’ I kiss his cheek and I feel the warmth of his blushed skin against my lips.

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

I almost died 5 times while writing this.

#sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo smut

200 notes · View notes

narcolini · 1 year ago

Text

white room - pt. 1

johnny davis (the bikeriders) x reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 2.8k words, 1 of ? johnny as a miserable bisexual divorcee and reader as someone too chilled and lonely to give a fuck a/n: it's written to be gender neutral, but there are a few references implying they may be afab (not overkill its just a very gendered landscape)

“Go fuck your good self, then.”

The door slams behind you and the window pane shakes with it, piece of shit car that it is, with an equally large turd of a guy running the thing.

“Crazy bitch,” is the cab driver’s goodbye call, and yeah, maybe. But he’s the one dumping you in the wrong end of town—and after dark, no less. All you’d done was get a cab after a party, knowing you left all your cash in one of the boots under your bed, with the mad hope that the guy behind the wheel might just be kind enough to let you ride along on a promise. You had every intention of running upstairs to get him his fee, while he kept the engine running, mind you, but that uptight jack didn’t wanna hear a thing about it. Even had the nerve to ask you to comp him 'with those pretty lips o’ yours’, which is round about where you started calling him a filthy no-good perv, and he started pulling over in the middle of nowhere.

Now you’re standing in the dark in nothin but your too-cheap denim jacket, that you never should’ve bought ‘cause you got shirts thicker than this, staring at a corner side bar that’s almost definitely filled with a hundred more of those cab driver types. Not in the driving sense, but in the fuck anyone that isn’t a man like us sense, you know?

But what can you do? It’s in there, or out here, and you’re not in the shoes for walking, never mind running, so it’s not much of a choice at all.

You go up in a way like you been here before, like you know the name of the place even though the paint’s chipped off and the light ain’t lighting anymore, and in the time it takes to cross the street, you see three guys go in, three come out, and not a single woman or anyone else, so much as look at the place. It’d be a lie to say your heartbeat was going a speed anywhere near close to normal. Which is another thing you try and hide as you push through the door into the chaos of it all.

It’s not a bar, it’s a God damn wolf den.

You make it two steps and already you seen enough beer, and enough skin, and heard enough dogwhistles to consider just how bad it could really be to run barefoot across town. Your feet would only hurt a little bit, right? They seen you now though, and with the amount of bikes they got lined up outside, you wouldn’t even make it to the next block before one of them caught up to you. And then what? Might as well try talking wolf while you’re in here, better that than squaring up with one of them in some stinking alleyway.

“You got a phone, big guy?” you ask, to the first one that really looks at you. He’s a head taller than you but it seems like that head’s spinning, so you figure he needs a little more explanation to get going. “Behind the bar or something? A payphone?”

He takes a while to reply, like you’re speaking some other language, then he says, “I got something you can ride, honey.”

And now you’re back in the cab all over again, and you’re still going fuckin' nowhere.

“Forget about it.”

You shove past him, and another two men smelling of liquor, until you can plant both hands on the edge of the bar and speak to the owner directly. At least, you think it’s the owner. Cause he’s stood back there, with a towel slung over his shoulder, and he’s the only one giving all of these animals their liquid feed for the night.

“Hey," you start, “do you got a phone? One I could use?”

Instead of answering, he looks right over your head. Imagine that, like you ain’t there at all, right over and into the space behind. It takes a second, but then you realise it’s not just bad manners, it’s only that there’s someone else coming up to the back of you who’s much more important, to him anyway.

And now, that’s a guy you look twice at.

He’s not tall, but he’s not short neither, something in the middle that suits you just right, if it mattered. Face like he’s seen some things too, but his hair’s combed all neat like he hasn’t seen nothin. If it weren’t for the bent pinky on his one hand and the scar on his knuckles across the other, you might think he was some sort of regular guy. But he got a walk like he owns the place, more than the barman, that's for sure, and the shirt he’s wearing is plastered with the same exact name as the rest of all these guys: VANDALS. Doesn’t take much to figure that he’s top dog of them. Vandal of the Vandals.

He slides right up to you like you asked him to, sitting his forearms on the edge—next to where your hands are.

“Nah,” he says. Just like that. Nah.

You feel like laughing. “No?”

“Nah,” his head shakes, “you don’t wanna be in here.”

If it’s advice, it kinda feels like a threat and, well, if it’s a threat, it sorta feels like advice. A decent bit of it at that, cause he is right. You don’t wanna be in here.

“Don’t want doesn’t make up for need,” you tell him. “And I need to use a phone, if you got one.”

“What for?”

“A cab?” Then you do laugh. “What? You worried I’ll ring your bill up by calling international?”

He makes a strange, sorta dismissive noise as he’s pushing off from the bar. “Worried you’d call some little boyfriend of yours,” he mumbles, then he walks round to the serving side and pulls a phone from under the lip of it.

“No boyfriend, sir. Just a mighty need to get home.” And the fuck outta this place.

He picks the handset up, spinning the dial without asking you for nothin, his eyes sitting on something you can’t see right in front of him. A number maybe. “Not many drivers will pick you up from here,” he says. "This one…yeah, well, you can try it.”

Any hope you had is fast disappearing on you. “That bad, huh?”

He passes you the phone, the twisty cord going all the way straight just to reach you.

It connects as you put it up to your ear, and some lady with a voice all too quiet for telephones greets you on the other side, rushing you to the point before you can even try and warm her up a little.

"Hi, yeah, so I need a cab but I won’t be able to pay the guy until we get there, is that something your—hello? Hello?” You tut. The empty tone in your ear is a stinging slap to the face, right there, right across the cheekbone. “Motherfucker,” you say, but she’s already all the way gone. She didn’t even hear you out.

And this guy? Well he’s smiling when you look back at him, doing an awful bad job at pretending like he ain’t been listening. “Yeah," he clears his throat to hide a laugh he won’t laugh, “you should’a said you had no money. No cab’s gonna—”

“I know,” you snap. “Still had to ask though, didn’t I?”

He shrugs, nodding at sorta the same time like he agrees with you, even though his face is fixed like he don’t agree at all. Like you’re awful naive for thinking they might even listen to you in the first place.

“Guess I’m walkin’ then,” you decide. You pass him the handset, but he’s too slow to take it, so you go on your toes to lean over and put it back yourself. Hard and pissy with it. Shitty taxi service. Shitty phone. Shitty bar.

“You want a drink?”

Your heels hit the floor again. “What?"

He puts his hand out like he works here now, pointing to all the dingy bottles waiting behind him. “A beer…or?”

“Yeah," you test, “what’s the or?”

“Or,” he says, slow with it, "you sit round drinking nothin’ and wait until I can take you home.”

Your brows shoot up like he’s told a lie bigger than any you’ve ever heard. “You gonna take me home?” you ask, thinking yeah, he’s gonna take you home, and you’re gonna be the next big Santy Claus.

He nods and it keeps going, like his head gets away from him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I can give you a ride.”

For a second, you find yourself worrying about it. “That code for something else?”

He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and sets one in-between his lips. “No. S’just a ride.”

You watch the lighter flip, the cigarette catch. Watch him take a drag and blow it out again. He isn’t acting drunk, and he don’t seem like he cares either way, whether you take a ride from him or not. All he seems bothered about is finding the end of that smoke, and popping the cap off another beer.

If these are wolves, then he’s the oldest of them. The most tired and nicked with battle scars. From where you’re standing, that makes him the least threatening too, cause you come with a whole load of baggage, and he looks like he’s got even more than that. And anyone with all that shit on their shoulders? Yeah, they’re not gonna be no sort of trouble at all. They just wanna get home at night with their head pinned on straight still.

"Well alright,” you say. “I’ll take a beer and the ride, too.”

“Beer and a ride,” he grumbles back, not moving the cigarette and losing his words because of it. “I’m Johnny."

“Johnny?”

He nods, handing you the beer he just readied for himself.

“Thanks.” You give him your name the same way he gave you his, and he says it back to you, the way you did with him, though you know you didn’t mumble it the first time. He heard you just right. “This the part where I tell you how far away I live, and you say actually, I don’t got the gas for that, right?”

“How far d’you live?”

“Other side of town.”

He shrugs. “I got gas enough.”

And that’s how you end up on the back of his bike, clinging on like some sort of koala bear thing, with the town going past like it’s made of nothing but air, cold, loud, air. Flooding your ears and the collar of your jacket, even the ends of your pants are filling up with it. Going so fast nothing feels like anything, only that, everything feels of everything. Way too much. By the time you’re pulling up to the house, your head’s spinning like you had ten beers, not two, and he has to offer his hand just to get you off in one piece.

“God,” you say, “does it feel that crazy every time?”

He looks like he wants to smile, but something inside don’t let him. “Guess so.”

“Well, you got bigger balls than me, that’s for sure.”

Then he really wants to smile, you can see it in the little crinkles by his eyes. “Night, kid.”

“Not a kid,” you tell him, cause you lived through too many years of shit to not get the respect an adult deserves, plus, you ain’t even that much younger than he is. Anyone without a stack of lines down his forehead must look like a kid to him. “Thanks for the ride. You really saved my ass.”

He waves it off, like it really was nothin, though actually it was a pretty big something, a real good favour. “Ah. Wasn’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.”

“Oh yeah? Saw me walking in like some sort of square and the alarm bells went ringing?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

You hum a little, shrugging while you think on it. “I could’a handled myself,” you tell him. Which isn’t all the way the truth, but it’s not too far from it neither. You can get mean when you have to.

“Maybe, but you didn’t have to, did you?” He kicks the bike to life again, and there goes that engine, so loud his ears must be working half as good as they should be. “See you around,” he says.

You nod. As far as last words go, those are some pretty boring ones, but it’s later than late now, and you’re not feeling like standing outside any longer until one of you comes up with something better. So he gets a “see-ya” and that’s the last thing either of you will ever say to each other, cause when are you ever gonna find yourself in the middle of some roughed up, leather wearing, bike club, ever again?

____

Well. Turns out you got a whole lot wrong when it came to figuring Johnny out. Not even a full day goes by, and you’re hearing that rumble, that big bru-bru-bru, clattering noise coming right back down your street. And Mrs Saccone, who’s normally deafer than deaf, is banging a broom on your wall telling you to get rid of it. To get rid of him. Can you imagine? Old lady, never done nothin wrong in her life, as far as your Pops ever knew, and suddenly, big mean man on a bike, sitting outside and ruining her TV dinner.

You couldn’t get out there fast enough. Half-dressed, you know, you were ready to settle down for the night. Work stuff off and replaced with those big, old man type boxer shorts. If it weren’t for the bathrobe, wrapped all up round yourself, you’d have blushed so hard it’d burst a blood vessel.

“You forget something?” you ask, parking your feet and slippers right onto the concrete next to him. “I got neighbours, you know.”

He frowns, pursing his lips as he looks you over. “I wake you up?”

“No. But I’d be lying if I said you weren’t disturbing my peace.”

He nods, still running that engine, one foot on the ground to keep him in one place there. It goes so long without him saying nothin that you start thinking maybe it’s your turn, and you forgot which one of you spoke last or something.

“Can I help you, Johnny?”

“Let me take you out,” he says. Not a question, but not bossy with it neither, just ‘let me’. If he’d said it like an order, you would’ve told him to stick it where you told the cab driver to stick it last night, but he seems to know better than that.

You pull the robe tighter, right up to your neck. “I’m not going back to that bar,” you tell him.

“No, not there.” He flicks a gloved hand over the bars of the bike, imagining some fancy, high-class sort of place, right there in front of him. “Somewhere nice. You and me.”

It’s a good thing your mother is on a whole other continent, because without thinking much about it at all, you say, “Alright, sure. You can take me out.”

He smiles, and it might not be, but it feels like it’s the first one he’s shown you, all real and bunched up in that stubble of his. “You should go get dressed then.”

You feel the life drain right out of you. “We’re going now?”

“I’m here." He shrugs. "So, yeah, why not?”

“You know most people would hate you for that,” you say, “giving a person no warning.”

The bike goes quiet then, and he swaps the keys for a pack of smokes in his pocket, leaning back like he got all the time in the world. “D’you hate me?” he asks.

“I might.”

“Oh, might.” He says it back like you don’t mean it, and won’t mean it, with another one of those funny throwaway noises following on after it. “I’ll take my luck with might.”

And what d’you say to that? Nothin, you say nothin, all you can say is, “Give me ten minutes.”

Then you’re trotting back up the porch steps, hoping Mrs Saccone isn’t peeping through the curtains, and wondering what the Hell you’re gonna put on that’s any kind of suitable to go to a nice place with a Vandal on your arm.

If it weren’t your life already, you wouldn’t believe any of it. This time just yesterday, you were at some square neck, office party, saying goodbye to some upper-level fucker—who never learned your name, and didn’t even thank-you for the half serious farewell note you left in the communal goodbye card—and tonight? God, if you weren’t so used to shit going unusually, you’d be pinching yourself. Real hard, too.

Some man called Johnny, who you don’t know from Adam, swinging by to pick you up on his motorcycle. Yeah, ‘crazy bitch’ really is starting to feel like an appropriate title for you to have. Who would’a known?

........................

part two here

tagging: @drabbles-mc @garbinge

#the bikeriders fic #johnny davis x reader #johnny davis fic #the bikeriders x reader #johnny davis

156 notes · View notes