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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

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WILDEST DREAMS.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x pregnant!Reader

Neither of you would have thought you‘d ever end up like this — dating for hardly a year and you pregnant with Aegon‘s child. Yet he still has another surprise up his sleeve.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, pregnant sex, pregnancy, lactation kink, semi public sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: Thanks to @lovelykhaleesiii for this amazing request! This can be read as part of the Mine and Mine only universe. 🤭

White Harbor has never looked more peaceful than it does at this moment.

Just two days ago, the sky above the harbor was lit up by fireworks with thousands of people watching, and now the only lights you can see are the ones on the docked boats, and the street lights and buildings surrounding the harbor.

Instead of a formal dinner with his friends, just like he has celebrated every year, Aegon has chosen to invite his younger siblings and their respective families to White Harbor to celebrate the New Year, renting a penthouse overlooking the impressive harbor. It was meant to be a trip no longer than three days, however, all parties involved have quickly decided that it would be better to extend the trip by a few more.

You and Aegon have been dating for hardly a year, meeting by chance in the very same spot you sit in right now, and, after you have found out that you both live in King’s Landing, decided to enter a situationship because you enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t looking for something serious.

Until he got you pregnant by accident.

After you both agreed to keep the child, you could swear you had spotted a few tears brimming in his eyes as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, you could observe from day to day how he became more and more absorbed in the father’s role.

You’re seven months pregnant by now, and, except for the ridiculous amount of milk your body already provides for the child, you have little to no symptoms. The child has been moving quite a bit ever since you’ve hit the six month mark, but you have gotten used to it by now.

Aegon’s arm is draped over the back of your chair with his fingers drawing mindless patterns along your upper arm, and you two bask in each other’s company and the silence surrounding you. You’re nursing your second glass of non-alcoholic wine, one hand resting on the swell of your bump and feeling the kicks of your child.

While your eyes are fixed on the tv in the adjoining living room, the Disney movie still running that was meant to keep Helaena’s children occupied during dinner, Aegon has his eyes solely locked on you, watching you gently caress your protruding bump.

He places his hand over yours, the sudden warmth prompting you to meet his loving gaze.

You lean into his embrace, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his all too familiar, comforting scent.

“You know they won’t come back, right?” you ask, voice slightly muffled because of the position of your face.

Aemond and his wife left two hours ago to feed their little boy and bring him to bed, and have not returned ever since to do God-knows-what. Helaena and Cregan were a bit more persistent with both their children occupied by the television, before they eventually departed to bring them to bed, too.

That left Aegon and you all by yourself without the hurry to get to bed.

He chuckles at your words. “I figured as much,” he says, pinching your chin to bring your lips up to his. “We have this evening all to ourselves now.”

Knowing exactly what he is hinting at, your eyes take over a half-lidded gaze almost immediately, your hormones having you feel positively bubbly.

“And I suppose there are plenty of ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime,” you purr against his lips, pecking them once. He has parted his lips when you pull back, clearly having anticipated you to deepen the kiss and not pull away after just one chaste peck.

A growl rumbles in his chest as he’s figured out your teasing, and his voice is husky when he speaks again, “are there now?”

His eyes spark with the joy of mischief at his own words, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

Aegon’s hand drops lower onto your hip, drawing you closer to him to the point you have to get up to straddle his lap. Just at the sight of the pregnant you climbing him, he could feel his crotch growing tighter, much more at the realization that it was his seed doing this to you.

The skirt of your dress rides up your thighs as you make yourself comfortable to accommodate the space your bump creates. The fabric rucks up just below your belly, and your bare skin is too inviting for your boyfriend not to rub his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs.

You rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean in to connect your lips with his. Aegon meets the kiss with passion, his arms snaking around your frame to pull you closer. Your lips press together with urgency, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

You run your fingers through his short, silver curls and hold him tight to you as the kiss deepens. You’re both eager to get as close as possible to each other, and you feel the evidence of your proximity and his desire pressing against your clothed and swollen pussy.

Aegon draws back slightly, and you chase his lips for another kiss. It was passionate but short-lived with him lowering his head to kiss your jaw.

He caresses the swell of your belly as he trails his lips to your neck, shoulder and then your collarbone. You whimper and whine at the heat on your skin that follows his lips, tilting your head to the side to grant him even more access.

Teasingly slow, he hooks his index finger beneath the strap of your dress and drags it down your shoulder, completely unphased as he starts to nibble your skin. He proceeds to do the same with the other strap, letting them dangle in the cooks of your elbows with your arms bent.

He brushes his hand over the side of your bump up to your heavy breast, cupping it through the fabric. “You haven’t worn a bra all day long,” he rasps against your collar bone, looking up at you with dark blown eyes. “Such a little minx. Bet you didn’t even think about how badly I would have to hold myself back, huh?”

The touch to your breast sends a tremble through your body, and you arch your back into it. Biting your lip as you look down at him, you whisper teasingly, though there is a hint of glee audible in your words, “not one second.”

His piercing blue eyes widen for a moment, the true meaning behind your words slowly settling. When he squeezes your breast, you tug on his hair in return, causing him to groan, and with his head already tilted up, he presses his lips to your jaw.

“You’re a very, very naughty girl… mommy.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, and his words make your body hum with desire.

You lick your lips, and bow your head to meet his, kissing him deeply. You start to grind over his clothed cock, eliciting sharp and heavy breaths from him and quiet whines from yourself whenever your lips parted for air.

Resting your forehead against his, you rub your hands over his shoulders, squeezing them. “Mommy can be very naughty,” you say, pecking his lips once. “If she gets what she wants…”

“And what does she want?” The grin he has on his lips is perfectly audible, you don’t even have to see it. He knows all too well what you’re going to say, he just wants to hear it.

“You, daddy.”

You can tell he’s taken by surprise at the nickname, since you’ve never used it with him before, his eyes widen as he pulls back to regard you. But nevertheless, a low groan leaves his lips.

Having always been insatiable and hungry for each other, it’s no surprise which direction it all takes when Aegon cups your ass and lifts you up to carefully sit you down on the table, standing between your parted legs. You bury your fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck again, and watch him carefully.

“Say that again.”

With a cheeky grin on your lips, your eyes visibly trail from his to his lips and then down to his crotch, the bulge perfectly visible. “Daddy,” you reply to the command, innocently batting your eyelashes at him.

Aegon groans again, and when his hands tug on the front of your dress, you shimmy out of the straps to allow him to free your full breasts. It’s impossible for him to tear his eyes off of them, watching mesmerized how your nipples harden as the chill air hits them.

You don’t even have to say anything for him to lean in and wrap his lips around one bud, skipping the teasing to suck on it immediately, swallowing your milk like a man starved. The stimulation and relief it brings has your back arching once again, all but shoving your breasts against his lips and into his hand.

He’s pinching your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing drops of your milk to dribble down the curve of your breast while his lips greedily lap at your other.

“Fuck,” you mewl, scratching your fingers over his scalp in a comforting manner.

Aegon’s spurred on by the way your body writhes beneath his touch and your legs clamp around his hips, locking him in and prompting him to rut his hard cock against your clothed pussy.

But as much as you yearn for the relief his lips bring you, the aching between your legs is too much and needs to be soothed by him.

“I need you, Aeg,” you whine, grinding yourself against his hard-on.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest at your words, stoking the already blazing need you have for each other. To your surprise, he pulls back from your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your hard bud and his swollen lips.

They are curled into a smug smirk, the expression that so often blesses his chiseled features. “What was that?”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You know what he wants to hear. “I need you… daddy.”

Like a man possessed, Aegon pushes the skirt of your dress up and reveals your cotton panties. You haven’t worn thongs in ages, and he’s used to them by now, though it took him some while.

Noticing the damp spot in the center of them, Aegon scoffs. “God, fuck, how I‘ve missed you,“ he husks, his eyes solely focused on the outlines of your swollen folds against the cotton. He‘s not talking to you, obviously. “So eager to be filled by me, baby, mh?”

He fists the fabric between his fingers and just rips it apart as if it‘s nothing, briefly meeting your pouting gaze. “I’ll buy you prettier ones,” he replies.

His hands curl around your thighs to pull you closer towards the edge of the table, and you lean back and prop yourself on your hands, watching almost eagerly as he undoes the zipper of his pants and pulls out his cock. The tip is covered in an angry red, beads of pre cum glistening at the slit, looking all too painful and begging for relief.

Fisting the base of his cock, he drags it through your swollen folds, soaking it in your arousal before he presses the tip against your entrance, meeting resistance. You brace yourself for the delicious stretch, and release a shuddered breath when he finally breeches your hole.

Aegon doesn’t know where to look and touch you. Every inch of your body looks far too inviting, and he’s sure he could cum just knowing that he’s the one responsible for the swelling of your body. The half lidded gaze you flash at him doesn’t help either, driving him mad.

A husky groan slips past his lips as your walls squeeze him ever so tightly, throbbing and twitching as you choke him like a vice. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps.

One hand comes up to grope at your breast, while the other rests on the swell of your bump, splaying over it.

As he pulls his hips back, you wrap your legs around them in a fruitless effort to force him back into you, but he is stronger and merely keeps the tip of his cock inside of you.

“So eager to have me inside of you?” he teases, and your reply dies on your tongue as he thrusts sharply back into you.

There’s a suppressed urgency in the way Aegon snaps his hips into yours so quickly and harshly, repeatedly bullying the sweet spot inside of you that makes you putty in his hands. The vigorous pace of his pounding leaves you scrambling for support, and you opt to prop yourself up on your elbows instead of your hands to steady yourself.

Your head tilts back, and your mouth falls open, but you quickly clamp it shut to stop any wanton moans to fall from your lips. You can’t risk being too loud, as you don’t want anyone in the bedrooms far down the hallway to hear what you’re up to.

The pleasure envelops you, and when you look at him, you spot him biting his bottom lip harshly, clearly struggling with staying quiet just as much as you do. What seems to distract him at least a bit is the way your breasts jiggle each time his hips meet yours, sending tremors through your body.

Toe curling pleasure overtakes your body, and you can’t help but fondle the breast that isn’t groped by him, teasing your nipple to the point beads of your milk dribbled out of it again. The sight has him groan out, a tad too loud for the both of you.

“So fucking pretty carrying my child,” Aegon grunts, the praise making your pussy throb with pleasure and your head fuzzy. He gathers some of your milk on the pad of his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to suck his digit clean. “Pussy or tit – you just taste divine.”

The obscenity of his words coax a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your cunt, soaking his throbbing cock and the table below. You don’t want it to end just yet, but with the knot in your belly tightening, there’s no way to escape.

Your heels dig into Aegon’s ass cheeks to slightly decelerate the pace of his thrusts and force him to go even deeper, intensifying the sensations you feel.

“Fuck… please,” you whimper with your face contored in pleasure.

Aegon wrinkles his nose, looking at you from under the strands of hair that have fallen into his face. “Need something, mommy?”

Your hips roll against his as best as they can, the swollen belly not making it easy, and your mouth falls open again with breathy whimpers leaving it. “I-I’m close,” you mewl, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Wanna cum, daddy… please.”

You spot the hint of a smile dancing over his features, before he peels your hand off of your breast to bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

His other hand has found its way down to your pussy, skilled fingers dragging over your bundle in the rhythm they have long internalized. He knows you like clockwork, knows what gets you going and what makes you take just a little longer.

“Cum for me,” he pants against the back of your hand, not once breaking eye contact with you.

You collapse on the tabletop, the coldness of the wood hitting your flushed skin sending a shiver up your spine that goes so devilishly well with the fire that suddenly courses through your veins.

Just in time with your orgasm washing over you, Aegon places his hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans and whines, knowing damn well that even though he can hold himself back, the same doesn’t apply to you.

You squeeze his cock so tightly as you fall apart beneath him, your back inevitably arching off of the table.

“That’s it, mommy,” he coos while he fucks you through the orgasm, the toe-curling pleasure overtaking your every being. He watches in awe as your face contorts in pleasure, taking pride in it since it’s him that’s responsible for it.

Only as he feels your body relax and your breathing turn more shallow than heavy does he bring his hand back down to your breast, the aftershocks of your high clearly subsiding.

Aegon keeps on going despite the overstimulation taking its toll on your body now, clearly racing for his own completion. His other hand shows mercy on your sensitive clit and instead pays attention to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Taking me so well, fuck, just a little longer,” he rambles, his head bowing forward to watch where he‘s repeatedly disappearing inside of your tightness.

Your head lulls back again, and your walls flutter and clench from the overstimulation, in dire need to take his seed and bring it to an end. Both your hands fly to the edge of the table for leverage, while his hands grope every inch of your body they could grasp.

Being overstimulated by him isn’t new to you, yet the moment the discomfort melts into plain pleasure always mesmerizes you.

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with the knot in your belly tightening for a second time, the high approaching faster and harder than before.

“Would’ve fucked a child in you if you weren’t pregnant already,” Aegon mumbles, and you can hear the strain in his voice, seemingly having troubles staying quiet.

You whine in return, and it must have been the way your walls choke him for a second time, but Aegon brings his hand between your bodies again, pressing his thumb to your sensitive clit.

“Cum with me,” you all but whine, eager to have his seed paint your walls. “Fill me up, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

The interplay of his cock bullying your sweet spot and his thumb dragging over your clit has you toppling over the edge once again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to silence yourself.

But even if you wanted to moan, you couldn’t, not with the white, hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your lips part with no sounds leaving them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

It’s not long after that Aegon comes undone, announcing his own orgasm with a stutter of his hips and a hoarse “Fuck, I–” escaping his throat.

Your clenching walls are milking him for all he got, making sure every drop of his cum is accommodated and doesn’t go to waste.

Two more thrusts are given to your fluttering pussy before Aegon stills his hips, collapsing forwards with his hands braced right next to the swell of your bump.

He’s towering over you, a lazy smirk on his lips as he meets your gaze, and beads of sweat cling to his flushed skin.

You rub your bump in circles as you look up at him, calming yourself as you regain your breathing.

And you want to speak, but Aegon beats you to it.

“Marry me.”

A gasp escapes you as you process the words, and your belly immediately churns with arousal and desire.

As his words ring in your ears, you lick your lips and gaze up at him lovingly, though something mischievous glints in your eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His face softens, but his lips curl into a smirk. “I was waiting for the right time, but I didn’t know whether it would come at all.”

You giggle at his words, and also roll your eyes, as it was typical Aegon. But even if the moment isn’t perfect, your heart still beats rapidly, having a hard time to handle the overwhelming emotions his proposal causes you.

“But there’s still going to be a real proposal, right? With a ring and all that?” you tease playfully.

Aegon chuckles and helps you sit upright again, cupping your belly with both hands. “Of course, you’ll get a beautiful ring and everything else that comes with it. You really think I’d half-ass something like this? You deserve the most extravagant proposal.”

You sigh, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, his softening cock still inside of you and the weight of his words.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

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tonyboneysblog · 4 months

Text

MOTHER HEN: PART SEVEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: none

notes: daddy’s…home? genuinely so excited to write the next chapter cause if you notice the timeline, something big is coming😈😈

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

You haven’t gotten a text from hawks in the past four days, which puts you in a sour mood.

technically it’s a little bit of your fault for kissing his forehead- but if the little shit would have just let you explain…

what’s even worse is that your unable to watch the sports festival- fucking hospital job.

And when you finally get home from that hellhole, Fumikage will be sassy cause you weren’t able to watch him.

He wouldn’t be angry just..slightly disappointed?

Then when you cuddled up in your nest yesterday you see that damned hawks plush you spent 30 dollars on…

So here you are at this amazing place of work! against your will of course.

Currently you’re at the water station- until you were rudely pulled away due to a pro hero getting hurt…as usual.

You open the door to see a younger, dark skinned woman with white hair and the cutest bunny ears on her head.

She looks at you and starts waving happily…your heart would feel warm if it weren’t for the blood on her face.

“Names Mirko!” Oh, you know her! Your sister used to be obsessed with her…well for a short period of time but still obsessed no the less.

“Mirko, how you feeling today?”

She sends you a thumbs up, “terrible!”

You chuckle softly and walk over towards her, accompanying another one of the doctors.

“What’s her condition?”

The doctor sighs, “nothing too serious, we ought to check her for a concussion though..and she’ll have to at least spend one night here.”

“With those injuries it should be longer no?”

The doctor shakes his head, “can’t keep Mirko tied down for too long.” Then proceeds to just…walk out.

But Mirko doesn’t let it stay too quiet.

“So, your name is?”

You smile softly, “ Y/N Tokoyami.”

Mirko looks like she’s pondering for a moment..looks as if she knows you from somewhere.

“I swear I’ve heard that name before..” she says quietly.

You smile again, “you probably have, so is there anything you need?”

Mirko puts her attention back onto you, “nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Really, Why’d the doctor call me in then?”

“Because I complained my ass hurt, I’ve been laying in bed all day.”

You chuckle, “that all?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get a bed sore kay?” You shoot a thumbs up towards her, same she did to you earlier.

Then you walk out, wondering why she even needed you…

But Mirko knew why, hawks told her you were nurse and she wanted to she what all the fuss was about.

Truthfully, he’d been talking about you every time she saw him while on patrol.

She supposes his ramblings are correct, you’re cute.

Then again Mirko has never really pinned hawks as the mamas boy type, and you echo the motherly type.

But you’re sweet, maybe that’s why he’s so attracted to you?

So, Mirko pulls out her phone to bother hawks about his little high school boy crush.

she took it the the group chat though, little asshole.

BEST PROS.

carrot foot

Found ur gf hawks

caw caw bitch

what

caw caw bitch

where

jorts

who?

carrot foot

Hospital

INCOMING FACETIME CALL

Mirko sighs and answers it.

“Where is she, she look cute?” Hawks says frantically.

Mirko shakes her head, “again hawks, get a grip.”

Mirko can hear the wind howling into the phone, of course hawks is flying while on the phone.

“Answer me.” Hawks says sternly.

Mirko immediately starts rambling about the very small amount of information she has on you, “Damn you got a mommy kink or something, cause that woman is a MILF. I mean M.I.L.F.”

“What- what the hell does…no?” Mirko can pick on hawks confusion through the phone.

“Hawks, man, that woman echos mother. Here she is mothering throughout the halls of a hospital!”

“Mirko, what’s your point here.”

“I mean she’s hot dude, get your head in the game…or in her i don’t-“

Mirko can then her hawks yelling loudly out of shock, “GROSS MIRKO, DONT MAKE JOKES LIKE-“

If he yelled any louder you could probably hear him in the halls.

Mirko laughs loudly, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m joking.”

Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the phone, a little too long for comfort.

but then of course hawks breaks it- as him usually does.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

Mirko starts laughing again, “aha! Damn dirty bird- go get your wings ruffled elsewhere man!”

Hawks responds quickly, ignoring Mirko comment.

“I gotta go- I see a best jeanist and I’d like to go pull his ear.”

Mirko huffs, “fine, but he isn’t your wingman-I am.”

Hawks laughs softly and hangs up, leaving Mirko in silence.

Until you walk in.

“Oh, there’s my favorite nurse!” She beams.

“Do you mind if I watch the sports festival in here? My kids in it..”

Mirko nods her head, “I don’t mind- need to look for recruits anyways.”

So, there you and Mirko sit watching the sports festival together.

Many times throughout it you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and alerting the others your not technically working at the moment.

but during every break in the sports festival, you rushed and did your actual duties as quickly as you could.

Then when you came back, and the 1V1 battles have already started.

And of course your gorgeous boy conquers and destroys the competition.

One after another, what was most surprising to you was seeing todorokis and midoriyas fight, aggressive and raw.

made you vividly remember that was the boy who tripped on his own ice..

You were a little scared that’d he have to face your Fumikage.

Instead it was Katsuki Bakugo who faced him, and after that fight he’ll be the only kid who doesn’t get your end-of-semester cookies.

I mean cmon! Grabbing your son by the beak?! Unbelievable…angers you to your core because who does he think he is?!

But it’s fine.

Fumikage would’ve won if it were anyone else.

But Fumikage still got third, and you can shove it in all your friend’s faces that your son is awesome and that they could never.

Because Fumikage is one of a kind.

You look over to Mirko after jumping for joy for your son’s new shiny medal.

“He’s a good fighter, y’know I know someone all birdy like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea, hawks.” She says bluntly.

You can feel the color drain from your face, hawks low key, high key broke your heart after your last interaction.

“Oh… well I’m sure Fumikage will consider an invitation from him.- if he wanted to work with him.” You say while tapping your fingers together.

Mirko pulls out her phone, typing something, you don’t know exactly what but…it’s whatever.

carrot foot

yea your cooked bud

caw caw bitch

what

Mirko seats down her phone next to the table, where you can hear it buzzing loudly…

“Uhm are you gonna check that?” You say nervously.

“Nah, he’s fine.” She says as she finally relaxes into the bed she had been complaining about all day apparently.

“Ah…okay?” You then hop out of the seat, making your way back to your work.

You should get him an apple pie to celebrate, or maybe just straight apples cause Fumikage will go crazy either way.

Hawks briefly crossed your mind again, what was his favorite again? Wasn’t apples you know what…it was probably something dumb- just like him…

dumb, dumb, dumb man.

enough of him, you have work to do…

right after you call Fumikage!

It rings, but he doesn’t answer? Which is weird because Fumikage always answers his phone unless it’s dead.

Yes that’s probably why, he’ll call you right back when it charges.

But Fumikages phone was in-fact not dead, he was just…distracted?

Fumikages eyes squint slightly, “What could you possibly want.”

It’s hawks he’s being so standoffish with, but hawks just sends him a soft smile.

“It’s the sports festival, of course I’d be here.”

“You decide to stalk me instead of my mother?”

Hawks goes quiet, his carefree smile faltering.

“Not exactly..we got in a small spat.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk to her for you, it’s not gonna work.” Fumikage starts to walk away before hawks grabs his shoulder.

Then dark shadow comes out.

Hawks steps off slightly, “that’s kinda freaky…”

“Kinda like your face.”

Dark shadow looks over to Fumikage, “that wasn’t even a good comeback.”

“Shut up dark shadow.”

Dark shadow scoffs and folds his cute little shadow arms with what looks to be a pout on his face.

Hawks face completely loses the carefree smile, “I’m serious when I say I’m not here for you…well not technically.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Yea, what do you-“

“Dark shadow…”

Hawks lets out a small breath, “I was interested in you being my sidekick due to the skills you showed off on the fie-“

“Not interested” Fumikage says curtly.

Dark shadow whips his head over to look at Fumikage with surprise, whispering something in his ear.

“He’s number three- you can’t just reject an offer from him!”

“I can, and I just did.”

Then it’s silent, Fumikage doesn’t mind though.

Hawks sighs softly, putting back on the smile Fumikage hates so much.

“Well if you ever rethink it, my agency will always be open.”

“I hope retribution comes for you in the darkness of your home.”

Hawks stays quiet but then his face twists into confusion, “what does that even mean..?”

Fumikage huffs and if he had hair he would most likely flip it whilst walking away.

Fumikage leaves hawks standing outside, utterly confused in what Fumikage was even talking about.

Maybe that’s what you meant when you said Fumikage was unique…

speaking of you, you were still at that darn hospital.

Fumikage was aware of that, you always worked a lot but the times that you weren’t working you tried your best to spend them with him.

Until Mr. Pro-Hero decided to come into your life..

The first time Fumikage really noticed your relationship with hawks was when you had the talk on the balcony.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy when he thought someone was under a blanket, a blanket you don’t even use may he add.

Then the next day when he went up to your balcony, the blanket was in-fact no where to found.

Then he caught him in your kicthen, Fumikage debated on even eating the cookies because maybe hawks terrible aura rubbed off on them.

They were delicious but that’s not the point!

Then hawks wanders into Fumikages home, which was locked, uninvited looking for you.

Only time Fumikage could tolerate hawks was when he had to save you from the bar.

But then his tolerance shot down when he walked in on the two of you coddling each other.

Then he heard the “little spat” you and hawks had which is why he rushed into your room so fast.

Honestly, who does that damn fowl think he is?!

Fumikage explains all of this to poor dark shadow, who truly just wanted to watch a movie with him.

“Sounds rough.” Dark shadow says quietly.

Fumikage huffs, “It’s worse than rough dark shadow, it’s appalling.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so…extreme with hawks- Momma seems to like him.”

“Correction, liked, my mother will never participate in any romances with that man again.”

Fumikage ends the conversation there, but dark shadow would like to expand on the topic.

“It was nice of hawks to offer you that side kick position.”

“well being nice doesn’t cut it.”

Finally, the conversation about hawks is finished, Fumikage only ranted for 4 hours this time!

And he’d finished 3 movies in that time as well…maybe the hospital will let you off early.

So Fumikage and dark shadow fight the urge to rest, which they both utterly fail and fall asleep on the couch.

You come in around 5:30 so they never stood a chance, not after the day Fumikage had.

You walk into the door, spotting only Fumikage.

You stumble over towards him, sitting on the floor and brushing your hand through his feathers.

Fumikage is knocked out, so he won’t wake up if you pick him up.

You use all your remaining strength to pick Fumikage up, making your way towards your bedroom.

It’s been a minute since Fumikage got cuddles from his mama.

And also you seriously doubt you could carry Fumikage back to his room, then walk back to yours without passing out onto the floor.

You place Fumikage under the warm covers, then yourself.

You then wrap your hands around Fumikage as tightly as you possible could, as if someone would take him away if you didn’t.

Then you rest, same as Fumikage.

Same as hawks.

And hawks truly needs to thank you for whatever you did to make him stop having those nightmares.

barely dreams now, and if he does it’s always weird shit.

usually has you in it too.

nevermind, you probably cursed him and overrode whatever put that nightmare spell on him.

a curse that just makes him dream about you.

Now he really wishes he talked Mirko into getting a picture of you, he misses you bad.

Maybe a text wouldn’t hurt? No, too risky- you’re probably still mad at him.

Maybe he could worm his way back into your life with that weighted blanket, if his plan worked he could probably steal it back anyways.

It still smells like you, which is weird because he’s had it for awhile.

That’s probably his favorite part of the day now, getting home, taking a shower, cuddling into his mostly bare bed and just sniffing that shit like it’s coke.

Kinda like how some people spray lavender onto their beds to get sleepy, he just smells the hell out of that blanket.

He wishes he was able to snatch another item from your house that smelled like you.

Fumikage doesn’t really smell like you, he noticed.

He smells kinda like wood? And also a little fruity too.

You wouldn’t really guess fruits and flowers from looking at him but maybe your scent rubbed off on him too.

Honestly, hawks kinda feels like Edward when Bella first walked into that classroom though- hawks wouldn’t be covering his mouth to avoid the smell, he would be INHALING that smell.

He would never admit that the night that he comforted you out on that balcony he didn’t even go home and change, he kept that uniform on.

The coat didn’t truly smell like you, but the under shirt did.

Maybe he’s going a little crazy, sure he’s real kept together most the time but- the things you do to that poor man.

And Mirko- peacefully sleeping in the hospital, she may be hawks wingman but she needs her rest too!

And when you wake, you’ll have to go right back to the hospital.

doesn’t men’s you can’t talk to your son before you leave though.

“Mama.” Fumikage says sleepily, awoken from you moving all around the room.

You perk up now your son’s awake, “Fumikage?”

Fumikages eyes a still closed, fighting to go back to sleep.

“Did you see me, in the sports festival?”

You run your hands through Fumikages feathers, “Course’ I did.”

Fumikage smiles softly, “guess who talked to me after..?”

“All might? I saw it on-“

“No it was hawks, invited me for an internship.”

You jaw slacks slightly, “did you accept?”

“No, not after what he’s done.” Fumikage says with a little rasp in his own voice.

“You should’ve.”

“What?”

You sigh, “hawks is number three- doesn’t matter what he did to me Fumikage.

Fumikage stays silent, suddenly now regretting telling you.

“But…”

You kiss his temple, “thank you for thinking about how I’d feel though. Don’t let my emotions or relationships get in the way of your future.”

Fumikage nods, understanding your point of view.

“Are you leaving for work?”

“Yep, it’s not a long shift though.”

You open your bedroom door, “I’ll see you later, Fumi.”

Then walking out of your own house, making your way to the hospital.

Once you walk in, your infact greeted with Mirko!

and hawks.

“Ah, my favorite nurse!” Mirko cheers excitedly.

“Mirko! Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

Mirko chuckles, “glad you’re worried about me toots.”

You gasp a small bit at the nickname, “Oh!”

Mirko places her hand onto her hip, “Hey, didn’t I see you hear like 7 hours ago, why you already back?”

“Duty calls?”

Hawks chuckles at that, wasn’t even funny.

Mirko throws an arm around hawks, “this was the birdy boy I was talking about!”

“We’ve met.”

suddenly there was an awkward silence.

Hawks wanted to throw himself out a window, you wouldn’t even look at him.

Mirko taps her foot nervously.

“Hawks…” you say his name softly.

His head perks up form Mirko hold, “yeah?”

“Sorry that Fumikage rejected you…I know how he is.”

Hawks can feel his heart beating in his ears, “it’s all good- doors always open.”

You nod softly, looking away.

The three of you just stand there in silence, Mirko foot tapping repeats.

Then she breaks, “Mrs Tokoyami, sorry for holding you up-You got a job to do!”

You jump in surprise, “ah- your right, it was nice talking to you both!”

You quickly walk away to clock in, Mirko and hawks make there way outside.

She scoffs, “had the perfect opportunity.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t gonna apologize to her in a hospital.

“I’m going to put you in the hospital/ what the hell even was that back there?!” Mirko exclaims.

Hawks pushes her arm away, “I was nervous.”

“Doors always open!” Mirko mocks him.

“Oh quiet down.”

“I’m your wingwoman- giving you a perfect chance and you fuck it all up.”

“It wasn’t that bad-“

Mirko smacks the back of his head, “Hawks, shut your trap.”

Hawks doesn’t reply, walking next to Mirko throughout the less populated areas of town.

Mirko snaps her fingers, “You know what, I can fix this.”

“You can?”

“Of course I can, I’m Mirko.”

Hawks groans softly, already annoyed by the days events.

Mirko starts her plan, “clearly she cares a good bit about her son-but there feeling are mostly separated for different things.”

Hawks nods along.

“So instead of getting all cushy with her son again, you need to fix it with her- clearly your not gonna getting through with her son based on what you told me earlier.-“

Hawks interrupts, “her son is always home though.”

“Don’t interrupt me, he goes to U.A. I bet they have some trip for passing the exam.”

“How are we supposed to find that out?”

Mirko groans, “let me talk, I’m always going to that hospital for some reason- I’ll find something out…she likes me unlike you.”

Hawks looks away with a pout, “Don’t say that…”

“I’ll say whatever I want, I’m your wingwoman.”

Hawks and Mirko continue their walk up until they get to his agency, since Mirko doesn’t have one.

Though Mirko continues walking, “See ya later, Hawkey.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my house?- don’t fuck up anything else while I’m gone.”

Hawks huffs lightly, walking into his own office.

He has so much paper work to do, then the commission will be badgering him later for “doing it wrong” according to them.

He can’t wait to just be home.

Be home next to you.

or…your blanket at the very least?

…he really needs to fix this.

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mlmxreader · 4 months

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You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised | Dean Winchester x m!reader [NSFW/MDNI]

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↳ ❝ You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised, Warrant with dean Winchester please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ After ten years of living with Bobby, you decided to join the Winchester brothers with hunting; four years later, things between you and Dean start to get a little more complicated than just hunting partners.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ alcohol consumption, praise kink, swearing, blowjobs, cum swallowing

↳ word count: 1545

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It was such a vivid memory that you could hear Bobby talking in the twilight hours of the night, hushed tone and grumbling with every other sentence, almost as if he had ever regretted taking you under his wing the same way that Rufus had; they were the closest thing that you had to parents, and with Rufus halfway across the country working on a case, it was down to Bobby to keep an eye on you.

But you couldn’t tell who he was talking to, you couldn’t hear who was on the other send of that fucking phone, but you figured that it was likely to be either Rufus or John Winchester - an old friend of his who had a little bit of trouble with his own boys, the youngest of which was the same age as you.

“It’s time that boy was shippin’ out,” Bobby grumbled, and you knew without seeing him that he was shaking his head and stressing himself out. “And I mean come hell or high water. He’s old enough now, he should be in his own home with a good damn job. Not still bouncing between my place and Rufus’ place… set him up with Dean and Sam? Are you stupid? He isn’t a hunter!”

You waited for the inevitable as you scratched the side of your neck and chewed at the inside of your lip, not really sure how to react to such a suggestion yourself; you had known Dean and Sam since you were kids, but it was different now you were all grown up.

You hadn’t seen them for years, and there was no doubt in your mind that they had changed a lot more than you ever did.

“He smokes and spits and drinks and fights, sure,” Bobby scoffed. “But that’s on me - I let him get away with it and don’t tell him off properly… yeah, no, no, his friends do all look like trouble - but I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less… no, he sleeps pretty much all day and he’s never around at night - you’d think he was a vamp til you saw his teeth… I just… where’s the boy I used to cuddle? He was so little, and such a nice kid… where’d I go wrong?”

You wanted to go down and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault how you turned out; Bobby and Rufus did everything for you, they never gave up on you no matter what you were like.

You could understand why he was so frustrated, but you didn’t want him to sit there blaming himself at all. So, you crept down to where he was in the kitchen, and waited for him to hang up before you hugged him tightly and shook your head.

“You didn’t go wrong with me anywhere, Bobby,” you murmured to him. “You and Rufus are the best dads a guy could ask for.”

Bobby sighed heavily, although he couldn’t help but to hug you back as he frowned. “Ten good years you’ve been with me, kid - and it’s like suddenly I don’t know you no more.”

You pulled away and cleared your throat, nodding slowly. “I’ll go find the Winchester boys. They’ll put me on the right track, don’t worry.”

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Four years, you had been on the road with Sam and Dean, now; you checked in with Bobby and Rufus as often as you could and went to visit whenever you got the chance, but you were happy with the boys in all honesty.

But it was a slow night tonight, on the way to the next town hoping that there would be a case, you and Dean were forced to share a room, as there were only two left in the motel and Sam was… preoccupied with someone who worked at a local pub.

“You’re not the only hell Bobby ever raised, y’know,” Dean chuckled, shaknig his head as he took a long swig from his bottle of beer.

You shrugged as you hummed softly, nursing your glass of vodka as if it would last all night. “Yeah, Rufus tried to tell me that - but you know me, I only ever do things that my way… and to think, Bobby thought I was a good boy just goin’ through some phase.”

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh as he quirked a brow. “You? Good?”

“You can’t say much anyway,” you mused. “You’re the only hell your mama ever raised.”

He nodded, pursing his lips slightly as he struggled to hold back the laugh. “Maybe so, but at least I didn’t try and pretend to be good.”

You shook your head as you licked your lips, quirking a brow. “Remember when your dad used to dump you at Bobby’s and we’d sneak out all the time?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were always doing it so I went along - it was only fair,” he pointed out. “But you know how it went down when Dad found out I snuck out… wouldn’t let me have no fun.”

“Don’t worry,” you told him. “Two more years to make it sixteen, then you’ll see - we’ll both have changed our ways.”

Dean put his beer bottle down, crossing the room as he raked his eyes over you, swallowing thickly before dropping to his knees between your legs. “Well, if we only got two more years to make some trouble… why don’t we raise a little hell ourselves?”

You started to chew at the inside of your lip, breath hitching in your throat as you looked down at him and noticed that sparkle in his green eyes; you nodded, which only earned you a playful smack to the side of the knee.

“C’mon, be a good boy and don’t act coy,” Dean told you softly. “Tell me.”

You nodded again, clearing your throat and almost gulping. “I’m sure we can raise a little hell.”

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs, settling his fingers between them so that he could feel the outline of your cock; gently and carefully, he started to palm it through the dense and coarse fabric. “This okay?”

You stifled a moan as you nodded. “Y-yessir.”

He grinned. “I like that. You want me to keep goin’?”

You couldn’t even stifle your moan anymore, letting it out with a shuddering breath as you raised your hips a little and practically squeaked out for his touch; Dean helped you slowly, pulling your jeans and boxers down to your ankles before wrapping his hand around your cock and giving it a few firm pumps.

With great control, Dean slowly licked a stripe from the base to the tip and hummed softly.

“Don’t stop,” you groaned out softly, and when he finally took you into his mouth, you felt like that was it.

Fuck raising hell, you never wanted the sensation to end; his mouth was so warm and wet, his tongue worked you so expertly and when he used one hand to massage your balls and the other to wrap around your cock and stroke it - fuck.

You didn’t want anything else in the world. Your hand managed to find its way into his hair, tugging at the short brown strands softly as you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes tightly shut.

Letting yourself drown in the feeling of his mouth around you. The soft sounds of his mouth as he took every inch of you one bit at a time; his eyes closed as he focused on nothing but making sure that you felt as good as possible.

Even the soft little moans he made around your cock only spurred you on more and more as your breathing grew more ragged and harsh by the second, doing your best not to buck your hips and fuck his mouth as hard and fast as you could.

But fuck, when he started to twist his hand a little bit, you were nearly completely over the fucking edge.

Dean’s movements picked up as he realised how close you were getting, almost desperate to taste your cum in his mouth; his spit and your precum mixing so that his mouth squelched a little around you; you could already feel it coming, your toes beginning to curl in your shoes as you heard him gag and grunt around you.

Your grip on his hair grew tighter as you gently bucked your hips against him, needing nothing more than to know what it felt like to cum in that pretty and smart mouth of his. You buckled, thighs shaking as you yanked at his hair one last time and, without warning, finally came.

To his credit, Dean didn’t stop, still sucking and licking your cock until it was perfectly clean, a long trail of spit from his mouth when he pulled away at last, looking up at you with a massive fucking grin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, wiping sweat from your forehead as you realised just how fucking weak you were from your own orgasm. “You weren’t kidding about raising hell, huh?”

Dean shook his head as he laughed softly. “Nope… but if you wanna, we can keep goin’, maybe see just how far we can get until the morning.”

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even if it's £1, then please consider making a donation to help Tahani to save her family. Please, every little contribution does genuinely help!

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 2 months

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“Hello, Nurse!”

Y/N, the fresh faced medic on the Jackass set, cannot seem to catch a break from the guys on set, especially after Knoxville comes up with a plan to welcome her into the family. But who can blame them? She’s pretty fun to mess with…

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, angst)

1.9k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, blood kink, medical settings, wound description, hazing, nudity, premature ejaculation, snakes, hangovers

An: Thank you so much for sending in requests!! I find that I really like writing Y/N’s with vivid personalities, wether it be very outspoken or, like in this fic, shy ones! I think there’s a lot of really cute and funny scenarios that could come from reader inserts that are just as vivid as the guys themselves! XD Anyways, thank you for the requests and please keep sending them!!

Your eyes went a little wide at what was sitting in front of you. At the time you took up this job, you were expecting to disinfect superficial wounds and, worst case scenario, have to splint a sprained ankle. Tending to an anaconda bite wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, much less eight of them at a time, but today that’s what Johnny was sporting when he walked into the medic trailer and hopped up on the exam table. Looking up at you through the tint of his sunglasses, he seemed oddly at ease as he watched you carefully inspect his muscular forearms- the way his blood trickled down in thin, shiny ribbons to drip off of his fingertips and onto the floor. Sensing your concern, Johnny tried to crack a joke after you nervously mumbled something about getting him on some antibiotics, “Y’know, they oughta get that snake on antibiotics!”

Going about cleaning Johnny’s wounds, you gently steadied one of his hands with yours, dashing the thought of how the way his hands were bigger than yours made you feel as you doused his arm in rubbing alcohol. “Did that hurt…?” You knew grown men to wail like babies when you disinfected their wounds, but the only reaction you got out of Knoxville was a wince and a slight flexing of his muscles. He shook his head, although you could tell from the way he was half talking through his teeth that he was trying to play it cool in front of you, “No, ma’am. Not a bit.” With nimble fingers, you wrapped Johnny’s arms in gauze, trying not to fumble at the way he was staring at you while you worked. “I swear, Y/N- you’ve got the hands of an angel…” A pink blush spread across your cheeks as you tried to hide how the affection in that comment got to you, much to his satisfaction.

Johnny’s sense of humor made you feel the most constérnale around him out of all the guys, but that isn’t to say you were totally at ease. Not only were you new on set, you had never worked on a set in the first place! Fresh out of med school, you were searching for a job and caught an ad in the yellow pages for someone with basic medical training. You ended up taking the place of the previous medic, Ed: this big, rough and tumble old dude whose job didn’t so much entail bandaging injuries and handing out ice packs as it involved handing out pills for a living. I mean, he was good at it, but there’s only so much OxyContin and Percocet can take care of.

So when he got moved onto another set by the union, that’s where you came in. Cue a week of everyone asking where the medic was, only for you to have to tell them that yes, you were the medic- and given the fact you were on a Jackass set, there was no way you were avoiding getting pranked. It was actually Bam who discovered your skittishness first given his general brash personality, but that gave Johnny this genius idea: you were the perfect person to fuck with! Consider it a friendly bout of hazing to welcome you into the family. He got all the guys together one day before filming, whispering barely out of your earshot, “Okay- this girl is really nervous, so next time any of you get hurt, just- fuck with her a little. It’ll be hilarious!” Everyone agreed that it would make for some good footage and they all enlisted to try and find fun and inventive ways to freak out the cute medic girl. Nobody was more excited for this than Bam.

Your nose was buried in one of the horribly unorganized medical kits you were given on your first day when your ears perked up at the sound of Bam’s voice, “Hey, Y/N-'' When you turned your head, he didn’t even make two steps into the trailer before he turned his back to you, dropped his baggy jeans to his ankles, and bent over, “I got stuck in the ass with somethin’- does it look alright?” Hell, before this, Bam did nothing but tease you day in and day out, and now you were staring at his essentially naked body.

“U-uh…Looks good!” Your voice jumped nearly an octave when you responded. Given the fact none of the guys ever wore shirts on set, you got a good look at the way his toned back muscles flexed with his movement as he turned around to you, entirely deadpan, “I know it looks good- but what about the injury?” At least to your trained eye, you couldn't discern anything wrong with his pasty white ass, so all you did was mumble something about how if the pain persists he should come back later, while you ushered him out. Stumbling as he pulled his pants up, Bam chuckled, “Oh, I will!”

The second he stepped out of the door, Knoxville was standing there with the camcorder, barely out of your line of sight. Bam was still buckling up his pants as he gleefully recounted to the camera, “Dude, she was freakin’ out so bad- I thought she was gonna pass out!” I mean, it was kinda expected, given the way he had been chasing you around and pestering you like some kinda schoolyard bully for the past week, but god it made for some amazing footage. “D’you think we could get Steve-O in there ne-“ Johnny was cut off by the sound of shattering glass somewhere onset. “Nevermind.”

Besides Knoxville, Steve was the only one who had a major injury when he walked into the trailer- well, walked as well as he could. See, they were filming this awesome stunt which involved him going through a bunch of tube lights on his skateboard, as he explained to you from where he sat on the table, and the obvious happened- lots of glass, even more blood. “It looks rad though, right?” Just like Johnny, he didn’t seem that perturbed by what happened, idly swaying his legs as blood ran hot down his calves and soaked into his socks. Swallowing, you were at least happy to finally be able to do what you were being paid for and you set to work on, inspecting the damage.

It was mostly his legs, but the tiny shards of glass stuck in Steve’s skin that shimmered like crushed ice littered the whole left side of his body. The part you were most concerned about was his face- I mean duh, he’s a movie star and to your knowledge that’s how he makes a living- so you started there, leaning close and gently tilting his head to one side. And the thing is it’s not that often a girl like you gets that close to a guy like Steve- sure, he made out with sluts at the bar every other night, but to have this absolute angel of a woman right there, tending to him so sweetly, looking at him with those pretty doe eyes- god, he could practically feel your breath against his skin. It was just too much.

“I can’t do this. I’m out.” Excusing himself, Steve hopped off of the table, leaving you blinking in confusion. “But- we’re not finished…?” Turning back to you, he spoke over his shoulder, “Yes, I am.” In your head, you wrote it off as another case of celebrities being divas, but he was long gone before you could stop him and Johnny was eagerly waiting outside. “Hey, man- how’d it go?” Steve’s sigh of defeat told him it was mission failure even before he mimed out what happened: jerk off motion in front of the crotch, then palms in the air. And as Steve went off to go clean himself up, Knoxville set to work on a new plan.

“Y'know, I was a nurse once too!” Chris chuckled, leaning against a counter top, “I was in Thailand working at this monkey hospital, which isn’t all that different from what you do now that I think about it!” You first assumed he was stopping by to chat, which you didn’t mind because he was a nice guy and you always loved listening to his stories from Wildboyz, but that wasn't the case. “Anyways, the reason I came here was-“ Your eyes went wide and you let out a little squeak as, for the second time that day, a man dropped trou in the medical tent, “Y’see, a snake bit my snake!”

Well, they didn’t cover this in medical school. Stumbling over your words, you asked him the routine snake bite questions- it wasn’t a venomous snake and the wound wasn’t even bleeding, but it was certainly an infection risk, so you ended up settling for applying some neosporin and bandaging him up. The feeling of the cold goo on his skin made Chris giggle a bit as you gingerly dabbed it on, and right as you were kneeling down in front of him in maybe the most intimate position you could be in, he decides to speak up, “Y’know, you’d look great in one of those little nurse uniforms!” Averting your eyes as hard as you could, you stuttered, “ I’ll, uh- I’ll think about that…” From the looks of it, Chris was probably thinking about that right now.

And of course someone just had to stumble in on that scene. It was Ryan, who didn’t seem to pay any attention to the incredibly suggestive display going on in front of him. He nonchalantly took a seat in one of the plastic chairs in the corner of the room and leaned his head back, waiting patiently with his eyes closed. Once you got Chris’ pants up and rushed him out, you grabbed a new pair of nitrile gloves as you went to where Ryan was sitting, “How can I help you?” Blinking awake behind his sunglasses, he sat up a bit straighter, “Oh, yeah- I’m just,” Ryan sighed, “really hungover right now…can I get some aspirin or something?”

Finally, something you could take care of! “Oh, of course! If you’d like, you could lay down for a few minutes.” Ryan watched you grab some pills from the cabinet and a Dixie cup of water with a smile on your face. God, Steve was right - this chick really is an angel. “Thanks.” He threw the pills back and took a swig of the water. “You know, I don’t know how you do it- takin’ care of us idiots.” To put it this way, if he had your job, stitching up morons who hurt themselves for fun, he would’ve put in his two weeks a while ago. But the fact that they hurt themselves on purpose never seemed to get in the way of the fact you were genuinely happy to help, no matter the circumstance. “Really, it’s no problem! I, uh…I guess I just like making people feel better.”

“Dude- what’s the holdup?” Two hours elapsed from the time Ryan went in the tent to the time he left, and Johnny heard nothing from him in that time. That was because shortly after you gave him those pills- think ten minutes- he was out cold. But the day was slow, and you didn’t see any purpose in waking him, so you decided to let him sleep off whatever was bothering him. Half awake, Ryan put a hand on Knoxville’s shoulder. “That woman needs a raise.”

#jackass #johnny knoxville #bam margera #steve o #chris pontius #ryan dunn #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #jackass x reader #fluff #angst #johnny knoxville x reader #bam margera x reader #steve o x reader #chris pontius x reader #ryan dunn x reader

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seungkw1 · 11 months

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halloween night — ksy

⛧ pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader ⛧ theme: strangers to lovers, nonidol!au ⛧ word count: ~2.5k ⛧ warnings: smut, swearing, praise kink, oral (m. & f. receiving), softdom!hoshi, petnames (f. receiving - baby, pretty girl, etc.), unprotected penetration (stay safe kids), tiny bit of fluff at the end

your halloween night is going pretty lousy — that is, until you meet a handsome, tiger-print-wearing stranger at a party

♡ moodboard by @myhimbomingi ♡

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“You look fine. Stop worrying, you’re gonna have a good time tonight!”

You stop fiddling with your skirt and look up at your best friend with a sigh. ”I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this stupid thing.”

Halloween is, in your humble opinion, the greatest holiday ever invented. You always love putting together your costume, something unique and creative each year – which is why you feel like a fucking idiot standing here dressed in a cliché sexy nurse costume. But, you needed to get your shitty ex off your mind – it had been two weeks since you found out he was cheating on you – and what better distraction than alcohol. Hell, you might even find someone to make out with if you drink enough. Not your usual M.O., but fuck it.

Now that you’re here though, you’re starting to have second thoughts. Your best friend Mina is bubbly and sociable, so she thrives naturally in a party environment – you, not so much. To make matters worse she’s the only person you’ll know here, so you’re now realizing how awkward this whole thing is going to be. Wishing now that you had worn something more comfortable, you slap on a fake smile as you step inside. Here goes nothing, I guess.

—

Mina spent about 15 minutes introducing you to everybody as you did your best to engage in polite small talk, but she eventually got absorbed in chatting with some old friends while you inadvertently joined a very boring conversation with some cryptocurrency bros where some guy named Chad or something was going on about bitcoin. You pretended to be interested in whatever Brad was saying, but you kept zoning out. Stifling a sigh, you went to make your escape.

“I’m gonna use the restroom, I'll be right…”

Nobody even looked at you. Brent had moved on talking about stocks or some shit. You rolled your eyes as you walked away. Assholes.

The other room was too crowded for your liking, and so was the kitchen. Spotting the back door, you quickly made your way outside before anyone else could talk to you.

—

The cool October breeze hits you as you practically burst through the door and out onto the patio. You know you’ll probably get chilled before too long, especially in this dumb miniskirt, but the crisp air feels delightful. The relative quietness is a relief too. Taking a few moments to breathe, you start to relax, but soon enough your mind drifts back to your ex against your will. It’s not like you miss him – you’re definitely over that jerk – but you’re still extremely pissed off about the whole thing. You feel tears starting to form as the anger wells up inside you – you hate that you cry when you get mad, which only makes you even more upset.

“God fucking dammit,” you mutter under your breath as you go to wipe your tears away before you start full-on crying. You know bottling up your emotions isn’t ideal, but neither is having a breakdown at some stranger’s house.

You can have your breakdown later, you tell yourself firmly. Just not right now. Don’t make a fool of yourself, just hold on out for a couple more hours and then-

“Are you okay?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. Quickly turning around, you find yourself face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome stranger. The man is so striking it takes you a few seconds to process the horribly tacky, bright orange tiger-print shirt he’s wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” you say as you collect yourself.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he says, his sentence trailing off.

You both stand there for a moment in silence. You find yourself trying not to blush at how good-looking he is, but you notice him noticing your low-cut top but trying to act like he didn’t notice it. Yeah, that is not helping…

The man clears his throat. “You just seemed like you were crying or something and uh… sorry, I guess that’s not really any of my business…” he apologizes, turning red. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’ll leave you be…”

“No no it’s okay!!” you blurt out, perhaps a bit too fast. “I mean, you can stay, I don't mind.”

“Are you sure? If you want to be alon-”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupt before he goes to turn away again. “I mean, I did originally, but uh…”

What are you doing?? You literally don’t even know this man.

You ignore the voice inside your head. Fuck it, didn’t I say I wanted to find a hot stranger to make out with tonight? Here’s one right in front of me.

You introduce yourself and stick out your hand. His face turns into a soft smile as he takes your hand in his – he shakes it firmly, and you try not to think about how strong he feels. He locks eyes with you and holds on to your hand for a few moments too long. Your heart seems to skip a beat.

“Soonyoung,” he replies. Letting out an even bigger grin, he finally lets go of your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

—

You don’t even know how long you two have been sitting on the patio couch talking. All you know is that not only is Soonyoung incredibly handsome, he’s also funny, charming, and easy to talk to – and, he’s clearly very attracted to you. Usually it takes a number of drinks before you get flirty, but the tension between you two is too strong to resist. It’s taking all of your willpower not to drop everything and kiss him – and the way he keeps stealing quick glances of your lips tells you the feeling is reciprocated.

Despite how flustered you are, it is pretty chilly out, and eventually you start to shiver. Soonyoung notices and gives you a concerned look.

“Oh shit, we should probably get you inside.”

You glance back toward the chatter of the house party regretfully, not wanting to go back in and be amongst everybody else once again. But you are getting cold.

You look back to Soonyoung and you both sit there in silence for a few seconds. A sly smile creeps back onto his face, and he hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “Or… we could get out of here.”

You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

And so you find yourself on Soonyoung’s couch, straddling his lap, making out with him – the cheesy horror movie you had put on in the background long forgotten. Time seems to be at a standstill as you press your lips into his – softly at first, but more intensely with each kiss. His muscular arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body even closer to his, and a small moan escapes you as he pushes his hips into your core.

Soonyoung stops kissing you momentarily so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

His low and raspy voice sends a jolt through your stomach. Your skirt has risen up over your hips, leaving your underwear as the only barrier between your pussy and the growing bulge in his jeans – you push yourself into him even further and this time he lets out a moan as you feel his cock twitch against your aching cunt.

Grabbing onto your waist he pushes you over onto the couch and rolls over on top of you. He kisses you again, his hand cradling your face, his body weight pressing down on you as you feel the blood rushing through your veins. He kisses you for a few moments more before he jumps up, pulling you along as he leads you into his bedroom.

He stops right before the bed and pauses to look at you, his hand delicately tracing your neckline. “You know, I really like this costume, but I think I’d like it more off of you.”

You let out a laugh as you roll your eyes at him. You begin to unbutton his shirt as you reply, “Well I don’t really like it at all, so you can definitely help me get rid of it.”

He grins back at you. “You look incredible, but I will happily oblige.”

Grabbing the hem of your top, Soonyoung pulls it up over your head and tosses it behind him. He pulls his shirt off too, disregarding the rest of the buttons, and you have to keep your jaw from hitting the floor – to say he was toned would’ve been an understatement.

He grabs you by the arms to pull you in for another kiss, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. You slowly run one hand down the defined curvatures of his abs until you reach the waist of his pants. Your lips still pressed against his, you begin to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.

Getting down as you undo the zipper, you pull down the band of his underwear and his cock springs free. You run your tongue up his length, your mouth stopping to take just the tip in between your lips as you taste his juices before taking him in your mouth. Soonyoung lets out a groan, and you begin to slide his cock down your throat – slowly at first, but as you begin to pick up the pace he places his hand on the back of your head, making sure you take his entire length with each motion.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You look up at him, his cock halfway in your mouth still, your lips red and your eyes teary from choking on him.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and low.

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls your head back up, his cock glistening with your spit.

“Stand up for me.”

You quickly stand up – it’s impossible to ignore how wet you are at this point.

Soonyoung takes you by the hips and gently pushes you down onto the bed. “Get comfy baby.”

You rest your head against the pillows as he situates himself between your legs. He lifts your skirt up just enough to reveal your visibly soaked underwear.

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me huh?” he says he starts kissing your inner thighs, close enough to your entrance to make your clit throb but just far away enough to drive you crazy.

He teases you with one finger tracing over your clothed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. Not giving what you want just yet, he reaches his hand behind your back and unclasps your bra, taking it off of you.

“God, you’re so hot,” he says as he begins to kiss your breasts. You let out a small whimper as his hand makes its way back down to your clit, his thumb circling over the fabric gently.

Finally, he reaches his hands under your skirt and slides your panties off, his face resuming its position right in front of your cunt. You let out a hiss as his tongue makes a stripe over your folds, slowly taking in your wetness – you cry out suddenly as he begins to suck on your clit.

Soonyoung goes down on you for what feels like an eternity, only stopping here and there to shower you in admiration.

“You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Pussy so pretty for me.”

Just as you feel the heat welling up inside your body, he slides his fingers inside of you. The vibrations of his mouth moaning on your clit combined with the pressure against your g-spot nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum…” you cry.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm rushes over you as you grab him by the hair, cumming hard on his mouth. Out of breath and seeing stars, you start to come down and your body relaxes into the bed – you run your hand through his hair as he delicately kisses your soaked pussy, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.

Soonyoung comes up to give you a few soft kisses on the lips. Wrapping your arms around his back, you pull his warm body into yours. His erection presses up against your still-throbbing core – you try to position your entrance right on top of his cock but he teasingly pulls away and starts kissing your neck instead.

“Please Soonyoung,” you beg.

“Please what baby? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you on the neck once more before slipping his cock inside you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

“Mmm I made you so wet baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

He slowly starts sliding his length in and out of you, but before long you find yourself trying to ride his cock, trying to make him go faster – which only makes him slow down even more. He smirks, locking eyes with you – undeniably addicted to how much you need him.

“Such a little slut, you want me to fuck you harder?”

You nod, looking up at him – desperation in your eyes.

“Use your words baby.”

“Harder,” you plead.

“That’s my good girl.”

Soonyoung thrusts into you, picking up the pace this time, until he’s fucking you senseless. Your cries fill the room from the overwhelming pleasure, and much to his enjoyment you start to whimper out his name.

“That’s right – say my name babygirl.”

You repeat his name as every inch of him continues to pulse into you, stronger with each stroke.

“You’re taking me so well. My cock so good to you baby?”

You cry out something, presumably some form of yes, but you don’t even know at this point. You feel yourself start to climax once more.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum again.”

“Cum with me, pretty girl.”

Electricity rushes over your entire body as your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock pulsating as his cum fills you up inside. You both lay there for a few moments, his strong arms wrapping around you as you breathe heavily together. He slowly removes himself from you and rolls over to pull you into an embrace – him as the big spoon. You giggle as he holds you tightly and gives you little kisses on your cheek.

“You know,” you admit, “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

“I am too,” you say as you begin to yawn. You are completely worn out in the best way possible.

He nuzzles into your neck, clearly also getting sleepy. He pauses a moment before he asks.

“Stay here with me?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay,” you reply softly.

You drift off to sleep in Soonyoung’s arms – blissful and content.

[end]

you can also find me on ao3 ♡

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wonusite · 2 years

Text

(Not) A Gentleman

❝ Your boyfriend is the sweetest man alive—a perfect gentleman. However, you’re determined to show him that he doesn’t always have to be a gentleman. ❞

pairing: lee seokmin x female reader

genre: established relationship au, smut

word count: 4.2k

warnings: seokmin literally invented the word simp, big dick!seokmin, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, begging, overstimulation

a/n: this is for brookie and tulip nonny! thank you for making this happen! love you both <3 based on this and this. minors dni!

“Okay, you have to be lying.”

You purse your lips, swiveling the wine glass in your hand to avoid eye contact. “I’m not.”

Embarrassing as it was to admit (even to your best friends), it was true that you hadn’t had sex since you and your boyfriend officially got together. Technically it hadn’t even been that long. It wasn’t unheard of for people to take things slow. But even you had to admit Seokmin had the pace of a snail.

Seungkwan looked completely appalled while Jihoon and Jeonghan could only gawk at you like you’d grown another head. You awkwardly clear your throat and take a large drink of the wine you’d been nursing all night. It’s not like you meant to say anything, but when the conversation of sex lives came up, you were left with no choice.

“Seokmin is literally obsessed with you.” Jeonghan scoffed. “How can you two not have done anything yet?”

“Maybe he’s shy.” Jihoon says with a gentle shrug of his shoulders, eyebrows still twitching with confusion.

“The same guy who told Vernon he was engaged to Y/N so he would stop flirting with her is shy?”

You all laugh at the memory. It happened only a little over a year ago. Seokmin still hadn’t asked you out at the time, but there was something there. He had invited you a party where you met a lot of his friends from back home. The night had gone smoothly until he saw that his old friend was getting a little too comfortable with you.

“What if…” you swallow thickly, the wine forcing out your biggest insecurities. “What if he’s not attracted to me?”

For a moment it’s silent, then your friends let out collective cackles that have you scowling at them. You allow them to act like the drunken fools before demanding to know why they found your insecurities so funny.

“It’s just that—” Seungkwan cuts himself off with an amused wheeze. “There’s no way Seokmin doesn’t find you attractive.”

“He gets hard any time you wear something that shows off your legs.” Jeonghan pointed out as he went to grab the wine bottle on your coffee table.

“It’s true. I’ve seen it.” Jihoon confirms with a drunken giggle.

You furrow your eyebrows. If attraction wasn’t the problem, then what was?

“Okay, so how do I get him to fuck me?”

Jeonghan chokes on his wine while Jihoon lets out another round of giggles. Seungkwan is the only one calm enough to answer you. “I’ll help you, but he can’t know I told you what I’m about to say.”

After making you swear on everything you hold dear, your friend finally tells you the secret to making the gentleman you call your boyfriend snap.

“So, here’s what you do…”

You’ve been out on dates with Seokmin plenty of times, but somehow you still got butterflies as if it was the first time. Everything about dating him feels like new and exciting. You even spend what seems like hours picking out the perfect outfit and getting ready to look just right for him despite knowing that your lovely boyfriend doesn’t care what you wear. He’s just happy to be with you.

The overnight bag you packed rests on your bed, and just the sight of it leaves you feeling giddy. Again, it’s not the first time you’re spending the weekend with Seokmin, but you still feel a jittery excitement whenever you do. It’s packed neatly with all the things you needed. Including some more enticing pajamas.

Part of the reason you also feel these unwavering butterflies is because tonight you were determined to fuck your hot boyfriend. Your lovely friends had helped plan it all out, and they were adamant that you had to keep your cool. It was harder than expected because all you wanted was to get your hands on Seokmin’s cock.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You swallow nervously, hands smoothing over your outfit. The new lingerie set you bought is snugly resting against your skin underneath the pretty dress you chose. Psyching yourself up, you grabbed your things and headed to the door.

Don’t make it obvious like you always do!

Seungkwan's words kept echoing in your head, and you have to force yourself to stay calm as you opened the door. You suck in a breath when you saw Seokmin dressed in a white button down shirt that accentuated how big his upper body was and black fitted dress pants. In that moment, all you could think about was how insanely lucky you are.

“Wow.”

You blink back into reality only for your heart to lurch when you see Seokmin staring at you like you’re some goddess. Which, to be fair, to him you pretty much are.

“You look so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” Seokmin’s voice is so full of awe and affection that your knees nearly buckle.

Seokmin grins when you bashfully touch the underside of your jaw. “I should be saying that to you. You’re so handsome that I just—” Just want to give you the suck of your life. “Just can’t handle it.”

His pretty laugh fills your ears as you suddenly feel your duffel bag being taken out of your hands. You furrow your eyebrows as you boyfriend slings it over his shoulder. “Babe, I can carry my own things—”

“I know, but as long as I’m around you won’t have to.”

You can’t really argue with his sweet words, especially since you know you won’t win. Seokmin has a strange way of getting you to back down with his placating actions, and you still can’t understand how you give in so easily every time.

Seokmin smiles fondly when he sees a pout forming on your face. “If you really want to hold something then here.”

It’s so stupid and corny how he holds out his beefy arm at you, but you’re so disgustingly endeared by him that you grab his arm anyway and follow him out the door. His triumphant grin makes a smile of your own form on his face.

When you get outside, Seokmin stops you before you can open the passenger door. He pulls the door open before unexpectedly lifting you and placing you on the seat. You feel your face burning as he gentle sets you down as if you’re made of glass.

“There’s a puddle.” He explains as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “I know those are your favorite heels.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he closes the door and gets into the driver side. Seokmin places your bag in the backseat before turning on the car and driving off. Your friends had insisted that you act calmly, but they didn’t know what it was like to date the sweetest guy alive. Every one of his sincere actions made you feel like your heart was going to burst.

This feeling hadn’t gone away with time, and you’re pretty sure it never would.

You feel like you’re floating on air by the time you get back to Seokmin’s apartment. He always takes you to these amazing restaurants that you always end up loving and never lets you pay. Every time you two go out you feel like you’re being swept off your feet all over again. It’s a feeling that hasn’t dulled over the course of these past few months, and you hope it never does.

The nerves you felt from the beginning of the night resurface when you enter his bedroom with your bag. You have a plan set out, but now that it’s time to execute it, you feel more nervous than ever.

You only become distracted when you go into the bathroom and see that Seokmin has a whole array of new products on the counter. “Baby?” You call as you inspect the very familiar skin care bottles. “When did you get these?”

Seokmin walks into the bathroom, a subtle blush suffusing his face when he sees what you’re holding. “I… I know you sometimes forget to bring all your products when you stay over or when we don’t plan for you to stay, and I just– I wanted you to always have them.”

The shy look he has on his face is so adorable, and at that moment you think that you won’t ever love anyone as much as you love Lee Seokmin.

You practically pounce on him, lips messily connecting with his own. Seokmin is quick to melt into you as you domineeringly back him onto the bed. He falls on his back with you on top of him. The movements of your lips become rougher and needier by the second. It’s dizzying the way you kiss him like you’re addicted to his taste. Like you won’t ever be able to get enough of him.

The heat in his gut expands up in his chest and spreads through his whole body the second you start to grind down on his hardening cock. As much as it pains him, he has to pull away. “Babe—”

You recognize his tone. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to say something particularly disappointing. But you won’t let him do what he’s been doing since you two became a couple. You’re going to get him to fuck you no matter what.

“I want you.” You say as boldly and confidently as you can. “So stop being a gentleman and fuck me already.”

Seokmin is looking up at you with wide eyes. You can see and feel how much he wants you, but you can also see that he’s hesitating. So you do something you really hope works because if not then it’s going to be super fucking embarrassing.

“Please, daddy?”

Your boyfriend freezes, eyes becoming dark and filled with an unmistakable heat that makes you clench. The way his cock seems to grow even bigger under you makes you want to buy your idiot friends a gift in thanks because in the next second you’re being flipped over on your back with Seokmin’s tongue back in your mouth, his hard cock grinding against you.

He pulls back, swiftly taking his shirt off before he pauses to look at you. Your boyfriend’s eyes seem to shine as he drinks the sight of you laid out for him so prettily. Seokmin licks his lips as his hands gently caress your upper thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

You suck in a breath because his voice is soft and sincere. The way he’s staring at you makes your heart warm with affection. You’ve never felt so exposed, but you’ve also never felt so desired and wanted. Instead of feeling insecure you feel safe—loved.

“Take my dress off.”

And he does, slowly and carefully. Seokmin feels his heart jump up into his throat when he sees what you’re wearing beneath your dress. The lingerie makes you look like his very own present, and Seokmin is pretty sure he’s on the verge of coming in his pants.

“Angel…” He breathes, pressing his clothed cock against your core.

You bite your lip, feeling like you’re about to burst. “I guess you like it?”

“Fucking love it.” Seokmin groans as he starts to trail his lips down your body, kissing and licking at your exposed skin.

The way he’s taking his time to fully get you naked is making your mind turn into mush. You feel so hot and turned on that you’re pretty sure all Seokmin would need to do is grind down on your cunt and you would come.

Vaguely, you feel him tugging off the lacy bra you were wearing. He wastes no time in swooping down to capture one of the hardened buds in his mouth. You moan his name as he licks and sucks your nipple while his giant hand pinches and pulls the other one. His teeth slightly graze your hardened peak before he soothes over it with his flattened tongue.

Your head is swimming and all you can do is buck you hips up to his covered dick. “Fuck!”

Again, that carnal look appears in his eyes. He gently nips at your nipple before he continues to kiss his way down your body. It feels like forever until he gets to the part where you need him the most. Your aching cunt feels like it’s pulsing with need as Seokmin gently grips the edges of your underwear and slides it off.

Your hot pussy is finally exposed to the cool air, and for a moment Seokmin only stares at you with his smoldering eyes. You lick your lips and spread your legs wider. “Don’t you want a taste, daddy?”

Seokmin groans and places a gentle kiss on your clit before his tongue is splitting through your wet folds, lapping up all your sweet juices. Your boyfriend lets out another deep groan as he indulges himself in your taste, the reverberations sending a burning heat up your body.

“I knew you’d taste good.” Seokmin moans against your cunt, long nose bumping against your clit. “So sweet.”

Another gush of your slick coats his chin and mouth. You feel your eyes roll to the back as his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth to taste more of you. Seokmin is lapping at you with an ardent hunger that has you digging your hands into his hair. You arch up into his mouth as you let out a loud moan. “Daddy!”

The way you’re tugging his locks paired with the sweet sounds falling from your lips have him grinding his aching cock down on to the mattress. Seokmin fucks his tongue into you until you’re screaming his name and coating his mouth with your orgasm.

You’re breathing heavily by the time Seokmin sits up to look at you. The sight of you completely fucked out and sated is something he’ll engrave in his mind forever. At that moment he knows he’ll never get enough of how you look post orgasm.

Seokmin runs his thumb along his wet lips and sucks the remnants of your essence off his finger. Your cunt clenches at the erotic sight. He’s so hot and you can’t wait until he’s inside of you.

Admittedly, you’ve known Seokmin has a big dick. You’ve seen the imprint of it when he wears sweatpants, not to mention that you can even feel it’s massive size through his pants. Still, nothing can prepare you for how big it actually is when he takes the remainder of his clothes off. Your jaw drops, mouth instinctually salivating at the sight of his literal monster cock.

“Will it fit?” You can’t help but ask because right now as you’re looking at it, fitting all of him seems like it’s next to impossible.

Seokmin laughs as he aims his fat tip at your entrance. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be gentle.”

Is it bad that part of you doesn’t want him to be?

You let out a soft mewl of pleasure when the fat head of his cock catches along your puffy lips, gently nudging against your swollen clit. His slit is oozing with beads of his arousal, evidence of just how much he wants you. Seokmin’s long fingers circle your clit, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

Slowly, Seokmin eases into you, groaning lowly when your cunt clamps down on him like it doesn’t ever want to let go.

By the time he fits half of his cock inside you, you’re already a moaning mess. The stretch stings a little, but ultimately feels so fucking good. You feel entirely full despite him not bottoming out yet. All at the same time, your heart is fluttering as much as your cunt is with the sweet encouragements Seokmin is whispering into your ear as he keeps forcing his cock into your pussy.

Impatient as ever, you wrap your legs around your boyfriend’s waist to shove the rest of him inside you. The loud groan he lets out mixes with your scream of pleasure. Seokmin’s cock throbs where you two are connected, plugging you full of your wetness and his own precum that’s dripping from the fat head of his cock.

“Fuck me, daddy!” You moan as you start to grind up into him.

That’s all the encouragement Seokmin needs to start fucking into you deep and hard. His thrusts knock the air out of your lungs, the thick girth of his cock splitting you open deliciously with every passionate thrust. The amount of pleasure you feel as Seokmin’s large hand spreads your legs so he can fuck you deeper is astronomical. The action stretches you out more, and your boyfriend can’t help but moan loudly as your sweet cunt clamps down on him.

“You’re so damn tight, baby.” Seokmin moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as he continues rolling his hips against you.

He’s already drunk on the feeling of your tight walls suffocating his cock. Your hot cunt is massaging his the entirely of his cock in delicious pleasure that licks up his pelvis and pools in his abdomen. Seokmin’s pace becomes rougher when your loud moans turn into nonsensical babbling.

There’s just something so hot about the sight of you spread out under him, your pretty little cunt barely taking his big cock as you whine for him with those fucked out eyes of yours. His hips are snapping into you without losing pace even as he gently caresses your cheek, practically melting into you. “You’re taking this cock so well, baby. This sweet cunt was made for me.”

It’s insane how his voice can still sound so sweet while he’s balls deep inside you. The loud squelch from your cunt is filling the room, and it just turns you on even more. Seokmin moans when he feels your fluttering cunt clench down on him again.

“You close, angel?” He asks through his groans as he looks down where his cock is sliding in and out of you. “Fuck yeah you are. I can feel you squeezing me real tight.”

“Fuh-Fuck! Make me come, daddy!”

You can’t keep your mouth shut, moaning and whining almost incoherently. It feels like you’re on the verge of coming any second, cunt so sensitive and stretched to the max. The pressure in your lower abdomen builds when Seokmin stars to thumb at your lips.

“Come for me, baby. Cream all over daddy’s cock.” He groans, so fond of you that he feels like his heart might implode.

His coaxing makes the coil in your stomach snap. The intensity of your orgasm is prolonged as Seokmin continues to fuck you through it, never once stopping those snapping hips of his.

Seokmin’s mouth falls open with a loud moan when he looks at your pretty pussy filled with his thick cock, your cream coating his veiny dick. You let out a moan of your own when he hooks his hands underneath your knees and pushes your legs against your chest.

“Pl-Please!” You cry out as he pounds his cock into your hot cunt. “Give me your cum! Fill me up!”

Your aroused pleas trigger something primal in him, and he goes wild at the thought of breeding you. “You want daddy’s cum, angel?”

His heavy balls slap your ass as pathetic mewls tumble from your lips. The way you desperately arch into him as your body trembles has his cock twitching inside your cunt.

“Want it so bad, daddy!” You moan, not caring that you sound needy and pathetic.

Seokmin abruptly releases his cum inside you, orgasm triggered by your neediness. His warm seed fills you as he slowly grinds his dick into you to make sure all his cum stays inside you. “That’s right, baby. Take daddy’s cum like a good girl.”

He goes still for a moment to allow you to gather your senses before he reluctantly pulls out of you. The sight of his cum dripping out of you makes his still hard cock twitch in need. Seokmin is too busy looking at your swollen pussy to see that you’re eyeing his cock hungrily.

You smirk a bit, knowing that the monster between his legs couldn’t possibly satiated with one orgasm. Luckily, you were the same way.

“Daddy.” You whine, fluttering your eyelashes slowly. “Want more.”

It’s so cute the way Seokmin goes red. This was the same man who had fucked your brains out not seconds ago, and you absolutely love it. You bite your lip before coyly speaking again. “Can I be on top this time?”

“Look at my pretty angel.” Seokmin coos, voice dripping with honey as you whimper in his tight hold.

Your boyfriend dragged you along the length of his thick cock, soaking it in your essence. Slick dripped down to his heavy balls before it fell to the sheets between his parted thighs. Seokmin can’t help but to smirk at your needy, fucked out expression as he swirls his wet tongue around your tits. His large hand is pressed flat between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer to him to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Daddy, please! Want to ride you!”

His lips gently suckled at your taut bud, slurping around it before he pulled back without releasing you. The wet disconnect and hot pressure from your breasts shot through your body until it was making your pussy clench around nothing but frustrating air.

“Beg me properly, baby. If you want my cock," he shifted his hips to allow the blunt tip of his pulsing cock to catch against your clit. “then say it clearly.”

Your hips rutted with a pathetic mewl. “Please fuck me, daddy. I want your cock so bad!”

Seokmin, ever weak to your desires, slams into you in a toe-curling thrust, forcing your walls apart with an guttural groan. “That’s it, baby. So fucking needy for daddy’s cock, huh?”

Your face is hot against his neck, still trying to get used to his big dick splitting you open. Apparently, your boyfriend is the impatient type.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, angel.”

That’s all it takes for you to start bouncing on his massive cock, lost to a rhythm that was forced upon you. There was no slow up and down, not when your man was in the mood to fuck you completely dumb. Not that you were complaining. This was what you wanted all along.

“So good, daddy.” You moan as you toss your head back.

Seokmin has never felt better than now with your sweet cunt gripping his dick. He thinks he’ll never get enough of you now that he’s had you. That primal thought has him smacking your ass with such force that you rocked forward and fell across his brawny chest. He grips your hips and starte to fuck you up and down on his dick like an animal in heat. The delicious drag of his cock hits directly against your sweet spot that has you seeing stars.

"Daddy, please," you beg in a broken moan.

“What, baby? You wanna come?”

“I, no—yes.” You stutter through your moans and gasps. “But I want daddy’s cum more!”

Seokmin practically growls and starts to fuck his cock up into you at a savage pace. Every clap of his heavy balls on your ass jolts you, forcing you to brace on his strong chest and endure this roughness.

A gentle hand pulled you to his lips where Seokmin devoured you in a lust-fuelled kiss. He swallowed your squeal as his thumb found your aching clit, rubbing at it in precise and fast circles. The wet gush of your orgasm forced past his bullying cock was so intense that the world seemed to spin off its axis as you dived into free fall. You were only dimly aware of the hissed praise from the man still fucking into you.

Sensitive nipples graze across his hard chest, eliciting keening noises as you rutted every time your hips meet Seokmin’s thrusts. Your dripping arousal made the sound of skin slapping utterly carnal in a room that smelled of nothing but sex.

“Daddy’s not done yet, baby.” Seokmin grunts against your lips. “I still have to fill you up.”

You let out a loud moan even though your pussy is fluttering and aching from the overstimulation. You can’t help but buck your hips to meet his thrusts because all you really wanted was him to fuck his cum into you again.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Seokmin moans as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, so lost in the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around him that his mind started to go hazy. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. My sweet, perfect angel.”

The grip Seokmin has on your hips is tight as he continues to piston his cock into your hot cunt at a an animalistic speed, relishing in every single centimeter of you. He give you one final harsh thrust before he spills his sticky cum inside you. You two moan together, both loving the feeling of his seed painting your walls white.

“Stay inside me, daddy.” You mewl, clenching down on him when you feel him trying to pull out of you.

He moans when you smash your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You two lay together like that for a moment before Seokmin looks at you with those puppy like eyes of his.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You snuggle into his chest while shaking your head. “No. You were the perfect gentleman.”

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

#seokmin smut #seokmin x reader #svt smut #svthub #seventeen smut #seokmin x you #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt fanfic #seokmin fic #seokmin fanfic #svt fic #svt x you #seventeen fic #seokmin imagines #svt imagines

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Note

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake.

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?”

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking.

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart.

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed.

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away.

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?”

She nodded, “Something like that”

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him.

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time.

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me"

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed.

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts.

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together.

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself.

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised.

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it, “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it.

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor.

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine.

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch"

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor"

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Ettore Taglist:

*Let me know if you want to be added to any taglist! Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x y/n #Ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life movie #high life 2018 #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ewanverse

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goldenchunkycat · 2 years

Text

Jake with a pregnancy kink

[Okay last thirst before I actually write a oneshot go to sleep…

Edit: Lmao I knew it, it actually flopped ! It was too good to be true, I’m crying]

Jake. Pretty Jake. Daddy Jake. Close your eyes and imagine him being conflicted about the way he should fuck you. Cuz ur pregnant, and Jake loves when you are round with his child.

He loves knowing the fact that everyone knows that he knocked you up and filled you with his cum. He loves watching you waddle and still act like you’re a mighty warrior when in fact you are just his perfect little wife, his perfect mate who will open her mouth and swallow his cum when he will wake you up in the middle of the night because he got hard dreaming about you ♡

"Babe, wake up ? I’m sorry, you just looked so pretty in my dreams I couldn’t restrain myself…"

"Open that pretty mouth of yours and take me in. Yeah, just like that."

Okay going back to that Pregnant!Reader thought (I might do a somniphilia kink, who knows). I think that Jake is a sickingly sweet man. He might look like the big boss, scary and all, but he just wants what’s best for you ! You’re tensed because of the rude day you had ? He would make you cum three time on his tongue and the only thing he would ask you is to let him cum on your swollen belly. Once your belly is too big for him to actually lay on you (missionary), he would gently fuck you against the nearest surface, your back on his chest and his hand on your stomach - cuz seeing you bearing his child just makes him so horny, he have- no he NEED to fuck you somewhere, RIGHT NOW.

"I’ll be quick, I swear."

"Babe, I- I can’t resist you, you’re so pretty, your body is beautiful."

"Don’t let it drip or they will now something happened, you wouldn’t want that, do you ?"

If you are in the confort of your tent he would bend you over and hit it from the back, tugging on your tail and nipping on your ears while whispering and panting about how good you are at carrying more and more of his children.

"We’ll have a whole litter. Little you and little me, don’t you want that ? I can’t hear you, you’re gagging around my fingers."

"Can’t wait to see you nurse our child with that hot milk, mommy."

[Jake, if you weren’t an asshole in Avatar TWOW I would have marry you… Hum, never mind, you can still have me.]

Masterlist

#avatar way of water #avatar 2 #atwow #avatar 2022 #avatar 2009 #x reader #avatar the way of water #jake sully smut #avatar smut #jake smut #jake sully #jake #golden’s brain is loading #avatar the way of water smut #jake sully x reader #atwow smut #daddy material jake

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year

Text

Little Monsters

rating: 18+ Explicit

pairing: dieter x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

warnings/tags: pregnancy, Dieter has children and is actually a really good dad, director!reader, 1st half is mind numbing tooth rotting FLUFF, 2nd half is straight filth and dieter has a nasty nasty mouth, masturbation, camera/phone sex, slight breeding kink, one single use of ‘Daddy’, if I had an ounce of shame left in me I would not have posted this

a/n: special shout outs go to @spookyxsam for showing me about how babies work and to @lunapascal and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for talking me off the daddy dieter ledge. this is my first pregnancy fic and i do not know what came over me (she lied, knowing damn good and well what happened to her brain chemistry)

from @yoursoulsunbreakable 's request: Hello sweetie, congratulations on your milestone <3 Here's my request for the little drabble: 5. “Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” With our precious Dieter and smutty? Hope it'll inspire you 😘

🤍Masterlist

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, Dieter, I’d – I’d –,”

“Yeah?”

You let out a burst of air from your lips, flopping back against the pillows. “I’d ask you for a foot rub,” you whine into the camera.

He chuckles, the sound a bit garbled through the speakers. He leans forward into the camera, as if trying to see down your body, the angle of the phone against the hotel’s lamp not quite right.

“Is Bravo Baby number three giving you trouble?”

You eye your swelling feet over the steadily swelling bump. Well into your second trimester and the list of shoes in your closet you could still wear is shrinking rapidly. This also happened with your second child and when Dieter made one joke about keeping you barefoot in the kitchen, you nearly threw a butcher’s knife at his head. You stroke the left side of your stomach to preemptively soothe the little brat before they start wailing on that spot all night, sighing into your husband’s sympathetic, pixelated face.

“They’ve been grouchy all day. Tom had to leave me in the car for a bit after we scouted a potential place for the exterior shots to finish taking pictures because somebody was having a grand old time wearing me out.” You narrow your eyes at him through the camera. “As if there was any doubt this was your child.”

This is a constant inside joke between you. Your first kid, a girl, was a beautiful blend of both you and Dieter. His eyes, but your hair, your cheeks, and his nose. He also got to name her – said it came to him after he bought some chocolate and water at the hospital lounge –

“Zelle, Dieter, ‘Zelle’?? Like the money transaction service?”

But you had been too zonked out on painkillers and endorphins to object (you thought it was beautiful at the time), and he signed the papers anyway. Neither of you had come up with a fitting name before then and he swears the instant he held his baby girl in his hands for the first time, it came to him, as if the stars rearranged themselves in the sky with that name. Incurably a romantic at heart – your husband – you found it sweet and also idiotic, but it was too late now.

Your second one, Orion, had his name written down on a post-it note you carried in your purse for months and you made sure to show the nurse when you were admitted. Not that Dieter would intentionally go against the name you had agreed on if the baby was a boy, but there was a slim chance he’d get so caught up in the moment and, with watery eyes, tell the nurse to write something like Mars Bar on the birth certificate.

And, for all that, Orion could have been a carbon copy of you.

The joke started when Dieter picked him up from his crib one night and brought that gurgling little mouth right up to his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t just spontaneously create this one? I don’t see a single hint of me in this little guy.” To which Orion giggled around a drool-damp fist and promptly bopped his father on the nose with it.

“Are you saying you don’t remember what happened the night he was conceived?” You asked with a smirk over your shoulder as you returned some baby bibs to the drawer.

Dieter snorted and slid Orion into the crook of his arm, those onesie-white feet seen kicking over his forearm. “Now Mommy is just being plain silly.”

That was five years ago and you couldn’t exactly deny you were excited for the smell of newborn to be all over your husband again.

“I’ll be glad when we hit the last trimester,” he says, chin propped up on his wrist to stare down at you in his other palm, “so I can wave that doctor’s note in your face when you try to work too hard . . . like you are now.”

You shift onto your side to face him, rolling your eyes. “You only like the third trimester for the sex hormones.”

After spending most of your first pregnancy, and at least half of your second, trying to claw Dieter’s eyes out if he so much as breathed in your direction, he was delighted to find that by month seven, the hellcat who had taken over his wife’s body turned into a needy, whiny little kitten.

Some of the best orgasms of his life come from those months, he swears up and down.

“I’m not going to complain,” he grins, peering down at you from those prescription sunglasses. The Dieter you used to know wore them because he was constantly hungover; your husband wears them because he keeps accidentally misplacing his actual prescription glasses. “All I’m saying is you better be back in time so Daddy can play house with Mommy.”

The shrill cry is heard through the phone, the closed bedroom door, and at least one hallway:

“Is Mommy on the phone?”

Barely a second later, you watch over his shoulder as the door flings open and a wild blur of arms and legs dogpiles Dieter onto the bed. You hear him grunt, the camera flips up to the ceiling, as Zelle and Orion clamor for the phone. Chuckling to yourself, you take up the phone from the bedside table and hold it in your palm as you lean back against the pillows and your children’s faces flash over the small screen.

“Mommy, I made a bug out of noodles and string today.”

“Mommy, I saw a cat that looked like a cow today.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s broccoli tasted funny - you cook it better!”

“Hey!” He lunges for Zelle’s little ankle and pulls her up around her waist as she giggles helplessly.

You can barely see them, Orion’s pudgy little finger over most of the camera, Dieter’s hair and Zelle’s kicking feet visible only in flashes.

“You better go help your sister, Orion!”

Needing no other prompting, he drops the phone against the pillows and leaps onto his father, squealing at the noise Dieter makes. Where Orion got your looks, he had all of his father’s mannerism. You blinked twice when as a toddler Orion’s purposeful pout had looked so similar to his father’s, you wondered if they had practiced it together. Orion is ruthless when it comes to the tickle wars and immediately goes for Dieter’s neck.

“Help!” he chokes, “I’m being overrun by tiny monsters!”

Zelle roars at his hip and Orion howls – he’d be a werewolf for Halloween a third year in a row if the tradition continued. Despite more frequent and loud protests about his poor back, Dieter lunges forward and yanks Zelle under his arm like she’s a football. He does the same to Orion and faceplants with both of them successfully pinned. It’s the oldest trick in the book and you muse what he’s going to do when they are too big to do that to anymore. But, as Dieter likes to say, one colossal nightmare at a time.

“Peace treaty?” His voice is muffled by the blanket.

“Stand and deliver,” they repeat, breathlessly and red faced. He lets them go and the two bodies barely move, grins still plastered to their faces. Cheeks pink, Dieter crawls over and snags the phone.

“See, darling?” he says between heavy breaths, “this parenting stuff is easy.”

“Mommy, when are you coming home?” Zelle pops her head between Dieter and the phone, her cheek pink and her little hands pushing her hair off her face.

“Yeah!” Orion pipes up, crawling over Dieter’s back, hooking his tiny hands over his father’s throat. Dieter’s eyes bug out for a moment before adjusting the five year old’s grip. “Are you done chasing the dragon?”

At that, Dieter snickers and you can’t glare with fire in your eyes like you’d like to so you plaster on an overly sweet smile on your face.

“Rori, we asked you not to say that. It’s a stork, remember?”

Orion frowns into Dieter’s curls. “But I want a baby brother or sister that comes from a dragon’s egg.”

“Yeah, Mom, a dragon baby is way cooler than a stork baby.”

Oh, you are going to kill him.

This was another ongoing joke . . . for Dieter. Orion’s teacher called home one night after Orion proudly announced that his mommy was off chasing the dragon. Understandably concerned about the phrase, she called to make sure everything was alright, only to find out what he meant was that his mother was expecting a new baby and instead of a stork, his father told him that Mommy was going to find a dragon to put a new egg inside her tummy, and then the new baby would eventually pop out from the egg.

This was something you had to relay through the phone to the teacher . . . because Dieter was curled up on the floor, laughing so hard he went mute, tears rolling down red cheeks. This had been his ‘stork’ story for Orion, and apparently unaware of just how impressionable a five-year-old is, told him that Mommy was chasing the dragon for a new egg. Dieter says his greatest regret in his life is that he wasn’t there to see the look on Orion’s teacher’s face.

After that, you (and Dieter once he recovered) tried to alter the story enough so that he wouldn’t accidentally imply his mother was off on a drug binge, but evidently too much stuck.

“I’m meeting with the dragon tomorrow, okay? I’m not chasing after anything. We’re having lunch. Right, Dad?”

“Absolutely.” He nods seriously at Orion and kisses that fat little cheek.

“When is the dragon gonna give you the egg with my baby sister in it?” Zelle asks, matching Dieter on her stomach. Dieter’s confidence manifested perfectly in his daughter; you and him had told her many times that the baby might be a little brother, but she just stuck her nose in the air. “I know it’s a sister,” she said, with a characteristic roll of her eyes.

“A couple more months, baby,” you smile, unconsciously rubbing at your stomach again. Baby Bravo is suspiciously quiet. Not soon enough. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, but you two have to be good for Dad until then, okay?”

Orion nods from Dieter’s shoulder, but Zelle smirks up at her father in a way that is well beyond her six years.

“I promise to eat all of Daddy’s nasty broccoli!”

Dieter’s own impish nature, thrown right back at him. The one solace you found is that your husband might have finally met his match.

He grabs her, flips her on her back, and blows a strawberry on her tummy as she shrieks with glee.

“Alright – that’s it – it’s bath time for all naughty monsters!” He hikes Orion over his shoulder and picks up Zelle by her waist. He glances back over at you, his eyes bright and a giant smile on his face.

You swear every time you see Orion, there’s less and less baby in his pudgy face, his little hands. Zelle is constantly saying and doing things that surprises you with the depth of their awareness and you know it doesn’t all come from you or Dieter.

Your heart actually aches from missing them so much.

“Monsters, say goodnight to Queen Monster–,” more yelling, roaring, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay, baby?”

You nod, your eyes suddenly hot and tight. “O-okay – love you all.”

“LOVE YOU!” The three-headed monster yells in unison as it lumbers out of the bedroom.

You end the call, just before the tears spill. Again on your back, you stare at the ceiling feeling incredibly sorry for yourself when the baby rolls over and kicks you in the ribs.

Hey, I’m here too!

You laugh, a little watery, and you wipe your eyes with your palms. Just get through tonight and you’re home.

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get ready for bed, would you like that?”

It’s late. You know you should be asleep already, but the shower had taken longer than expected. The phone call with your husband and children lingered in your mind when you turned on the water and stripped down. Your heart was so full to see Orion’s pout and Zelle’s mischievous grin, especially after such a long day on your feet and for all his teasing, Dieter’s own ease and confidence as a father, as well as a husband, left you feeling . . . warm. In fact, your mind’s eye lingers on him in the memory of the call: his beautiful, rich curls – those square black glasses that made him look annoyingly mysterious and so goddamn hot – his biceps flexing as he throws around his children with ease, his shoulders broad and straining against his shirt — his bulging forearm making his triangle tattoo pop – his wedding ring that replaced all the other rings –

The good news is the baby was almost here. The bad news is that you’re suddenly irrationally horny and your all-too-eager husband was a plane ride away.

Entirely naked besides the white hotel robe around your shoulders, you sternly ignore the plush tingling between your legs and try to focus on rubbing in lotion into your legs, your hips, over the old and new stretch marks over your stomach. Your fingers rub underneath the curve of your stomach and accidentally brush the damp curls, sending tiny shock waves up your pelvis. You gasp lowly, freezing, eyes tightly shut, fighting back that wave of arousal.

Goddamn it.

At first you think the ringing is between your ears, your blood rushing hard and fast, and then you realize it’s actually your phone going off.

Daddy Dieter, the screen reads.

You frown at the clock – if it’s late for you, then it’s very late for him. When he said he’d call you later, you didn’t think he meant literally later tonight. Still frowning, you put down the bottle of lotion and answer the phone.

“Dieter?”

“Hey, baby. How’s your night?”

He pulls back the phone and your mouth flushes with spit. He’s shirtless, sunglasses replaced with his actual glasses, that silver earring glinting in the low light. In the center of your bed, he’s propped up on several pillows with his arm tucked behind his head. He has thickened over the years, his chest and shoulders taking on a new weight as if he physically grew into fatherhood — and God, if his bicep was bulging before –

“Dieter –,” your voice is hoarse at first and you have to clear your throat to get anything out of your mouth that isn’t a whine. “Dieter, what are you doing up?”

He shrugs like he’s just been bored at home. “Bath time was easy. Orion wanted just one story and Zelle didn’t put up a fight when I told her it was bedtime and she had to put away the crayons.”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you slip them Benadryl?”

“Wow! No! Did you ever think that maybe I’m just that good of a dad?” He scoffs, mildly offended. And then he smirks. “I told them you’d come home sooner if they were good.”

“Ah, the old Santa Claus trick.” You nod sagely and sit down on the edge of the bed, the movement tugging the robe slightly. “Always a classic.”

“Yeah, I –,” Dieter’s eyes widen, edges going dark. “Are you naked?”

You swallow, his sudden shift in tone causing your thighs to clench. You cross your legs as tightly as your belly will allow, your chin held high.

“I’m in a robe, Dieter. Took a long shower.”

His eyes glitter with interest, the tip of his tongue running on the edge of his bottom lip. “How long?”

Feeling hot and swollen for months now, you flush pink, an overripe peach beneath the slightest pressure of his thumb.

“Dieter–,” it’s a whine but you shake your head. “Please don’t tease. I’m so . . . sensitive right now, and I won’t be home until tomorrow and–,”

“Baby, baby, breathe. I know it hurts.” He sits up, his eyes big and dark. “I remember how wet you get around now.”

Your cunt drools onto the robe below you, thighs sticky, his words ringing in your ears.

“Dieter, don’t –,”

“I know I can’t help you but what if I showed you how to help yourself?”

You whimper, arousal now hot and warm in the pit of your stomach. The strength of it makes your pelvis ache. You know it won’t be the same as him, but his voice, it might be enough. You nod, your heart pounding, hand holding the phone shaking.

“Then lie back, baby.” Dieter purrs and it’s almost like he’s pushing you back with his hands. You shift up the bed, careful to not step on your robe with your heels as you center yourself in the covers. But Dieter’s moving, off the bed, and he’s adjusting something behind his phone.

The baby inside you can feel your heartbeat racing and they turn, uneasy. You soothe them with small circles just above your hips, your lips between your teeth. But that touch on your skin, the look in Dieter’s eyes, you brush lower on your skin and immediately you shudder.

“Baby, please, hurry, whatever you’re doing, hurry –,”

You drop your fingers over your thighs, curling and uncurling, drawing imaginary lines like he does in the mornings against your shoulders and back.

“Just a second, sorry, almost got it.”

Then he steps back, the phone hovering in the air. Dieter sits on the bed and the camera holds the entire bed in view. Dieter is nothing if not a performer, bringing a tripod into the bedroom when he knows you need him the most. He’s so fucking hot.

“Can you see me, baby?”

You nod stiffly. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way is comfortable,” he smiles and it’s almost as hot as his smirk. Fuck, he loves you so much. You slide the robe off your shoulders, exposing the tops of your breasts as best you can and still keeping your phone up. “Perfect, baby, that’s perfect.”

Your hand drops to your thigh again, dragging your nails up under the swell of your belly and you twitch.

“T-tell me what you would want to do,” you begin, your voice shaking, arousal smooth as it licks up your spine, “if you were here right now.” You feel warm all over, the sheets cool against your calves.

This far away, you can’t see his eyes clear enough to watch them darken entirely, but his low grunt is enough. It’s time for him to perform for his pregnant and insatiable wife.

He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the bedside table, where they land with a clatter. You can’t even think of scolding him when he lifts his hips and yanks his gray sweatpants down his knees, then to the floor. He’s half-hard as he shuffles back to the pillows, nearly in the same position you are. You shift to match him entirely, needing the immersion to be total and complete. You’d cry if he could actually touch you.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod again. But Dieter shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs. “I can’t see you this far away, baby. I need you to say it. Talk to me.”

He was usually the one vocal enough for both of you, any coherent language impossible with the mess he makes out of you. You can’t imagine what you’re going to sound like, not when you’re this needy and desperate already.

“O-okay, Dieter, I’ll try.”

“Good girl.” You whimper again, trying to restrain from touching yourself before he tells you to. But you’re throbbing, the heat blooming from your cunt rushing to the rest of your body, the baby in you restless. As if mother and child can only be soothed by their father. “Now, breathe, darling, you’re flushed.”

You inhale, the air notching on every bone in your spine, and exhale, your lungs shuddering, eyes shut. “Dieter, please, tell me what you’d –,”

“I’d touch your thighs,” he says with such immediacy, your eyes spring open. He’s got the knee farthest from you bent up, as if putting himself on display, turning his hips towards the camera slightly. His other leg is stretched out long beside him and his left hand strokes his cock. Hair and shoulders backlit from the far lamp, the image of him like this alone — just for you — has your cunt clenching, a moan spilling from your lips. “Touch your thighs, baby.”

You can’t grab as much skin as he does, but you try. You lift your knees, and massage the backs of your thighs, then up to your knees, and back down. You can almost feel his breath on your calves and you shudder. “What else? W-where else?”

“I’ve been thinking about your tits for days,” he groans, the sound strangled, his cock now fully-hard and red. He cups himself, twisting as slow as he can take it. “Tell me what your tits feel like.”

“Sensitive,” you gasp as you draw two fingers across your nipple and squeeze gently. Dieter only uses his mouth now on them, so you wet them with yours and return them to your swollen bud, slowly twisting and pulling.

He’s watching you through the camera, eyes wide, breath sharp when you suck your fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, that’s right. Get them wet. What are you thinking about?”

“You. Your lips around my nipple, under my breast. Your teeth. They’re so heavy, Dieter.”

His hips jerk under his hand, his fingers moving faster now. You can’t quite hear what he’s muttering, but you catch weak mumblings, “gonna feed our baby”, “yeah, your tits”, the baby” —

“Dieter, please–,”

“Touch yourself with your fingers wet from your mouth. T-t-tell me what it feels like.”

With a relieved cry, you slide your hand down from your tits, over the swell of your belly, and in between your thighs. Wetness clings to the curls, to the curve of your ass, your body so ready to take him, and it locks up when you slip a finger inside.

“So wet. Warm. How many fingers can I put in?”

“One, but – can you already do two?”

You nod, the huff arching into a whine. “Yeah, baby. You have no idea how wet I am. I can slip in two with no resistance.”

“Jesus,” he pants and slows down, his hips rocking of their own accord. “You’ve got me so hard.”

You curl your fingers inside of you, searching for that spot made and found and praised by him. Your folds plump and achy, you twist your wrist, scissor your fingers, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as his three fingers plugging you up, readying you to take so much of him, it’s enough to ease the sharp ache for a bit. You moan, fucking yourself more. He hears it, sees it, and grunts.

“You can come wherever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his own hand hesitant to match your speed. He tugs on his balls and his toes curl, his neck long and tense. “Fuck, I need your hands.”

“Me too,” you sob, real tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It feels good but it’s not the relief you need. It’s pathetic but you don’t want to stop. You can’t get in deep enough, even if you could get around your big belly. “Dieter, I can’t reach. It’s – I’m –,”

“Breathe, love, it’s okay.” His voice is soothing, calming. The same one he uses when you’re in labor and the sweet honey warmth of it sinks into your bones, easing the panic. You slow, gasping, tears pooling down your temple. Your orgasm is harsh, sunken in the dark, waiting for you to draw it out.

“What can you reach?”

“My clit.”

“Then touch that. Can I see?”

You nod, angle the phone down as you rub that electric nub.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I know it’s frustrating and I know it hurts, but you look so fucking good. So wet for me. Your pussy is perfect, pink, just how I like her.”

“Yeah?” you spin your fingers faster. That hot arousal returns steadily, melting back the resentment towards your own body the longer he praises.

“Oh yeah.” You can hear the slap of skin on the other end of the phone and you can picture Dieter flat on his back jerking himself off to your pulsating cunt and you moan, loudly, tension evaporating from your body. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Tight. I just need a bit more.”

“Me too. Let me see your face, pretty girl.” You turn the camera and gape at the sight on the screen.

Precum drips out of his now-purple cock, his chest flushed and neck sweaty. He’s twirling the head around with his thumb at the pace you’ve set with your fingers against your clit.

“Look at what you’ve done to me. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Can’t wait for you to be home so I can eat you out for hours.”

“I want your cock in me, Dieter,” you gasp, furiously rubbing on your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your cunt clenches in time with your thudding heartbeat. “You’re so thick. I wanna feel the stretch.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you hard.” The confession is a low snarl, a promise made between the ridges of his teeth. He fucks his fist faster, the noise over his labored breathing obscene. “Gonna put your hands on the headboard, your pussy in my lap and I’m gonna fuck up into you until I fill you full again. Wanna make you pregnant twice.”

Arousal floods your veins, your thighs a gooey mess. You toss your head back, back arching, and you moan as loud as you can.

“Oh– shit, oh, oh, shit–,”

“You’re gonna leak all over my thighs and when you’re done coming so hard you can’t see straight, I’m gonna lick it up all off you, my wife. Mine. My baby. Mine. Fuck, you look so good full of me.”

He’s never this possessive, never angry that he can’t have you but he sounds livid. He fucks his fist, his hips bucking into nothing, his other hand squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles go white.

You circle your clit one more time and finally — your orgasm crests, your body locking up, your cunt gushing – and it leaves your mouth before you can stop it –

“Oh, Daddy–,”

You hear him gasp as if electrocuted, and you have to drop your phone to steady yourself as the weight of white-hot pleasure explodes across your body. You rock, breath gone from your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, and everything slams back into you and you gasp, high and loud, every inch of your skin hot and trembling. You don’t realize you’re sweating until you feel it drip off your neck.

All you can hear is Dieter panting from your phone amongst the covers, the sound muffled. Your eyes flutter as the warm waves languish, then curl, and finally, you sigh as the last waves drain out of your body. If you weren’t lying down you’re sure you’d be dizzy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly to no one in particular.

“B-baby, you still there?”

You blindly feel around for your phone, arm so weak it’s trembling as you pull the camera towards your face

Dieter looks about as fucked out as you feel. Cock limp and still dribbling, his stomach and chest are covered in cum. He pushes his damp hair off his forehead, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

“Holy shit, baby, that was …”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing your dry tongue, wishing again he was here so he could get you a glass of water. “I hope that wasn’t all of it because I really want you to say all of those things again tomorrow when you’re inside me.”

He groans and adjusts his limp cock. “You say that now but wait until Baby Bravo kicks you in the kidneys. You’ll be feeling a lot less generous towards this,” he gestures aimlessly to his naked body, “then.”

You chuckle. “Let’s just hope for the best. Besides,” you say, groaning a bit as you sit up to wipe the sweat off your neck with the robe, “I’m pretty sure I can have you eating out of the palm of my hand. Now that I know your secret . . . Daddy.”

Dieter groans as you laugh. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by now when you make me discover new kinks.”

“Mhmm hmm.”

He rolls his eyes as he gets up and picks the phone off the tripod. Holding the phone to his face, he wipes the cum off with his sweatpants before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you? Feel better?”

“Much better.” You stretch and lean back in the bed. If he was here, you’d probably be asking to eat you out, but at least the knife’s edge of desire has dulled. You can at least wait until nap time to jump your husband’s bones.

“Good,” Dieter sighs, satisfied. “I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport tomorrow, okay?”

He always gets like this the nearer the due date comes, as if he can’t stand to see you lift a finger unnecessarily. You smile and nod, never wanting it to be any other way.

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“Okay. Good night, my biggest love. I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Dieter.” Goddamn hormones, making you cry again.

“Now lemme say goodbye to our little traveler.”

You wipe your eyes with your thumb as you tilt the phone to your swollen belly.

“Good night, Baby Bravo. Can’t wait to have you around.”

And, at the sound of their father’s voice, they stir. Not kick or hurt. Just a tiny foot against your tight skin.

You are officially crying now.

“They said hi, didn’t they?”

You’re nodding, crying, and he can’t see a damn thing. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “They said good night, Dad.”

He’s patient with you as you wipe your eyes, cheeks flushed again.

“Baby, don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart.”

“You’re just a really good dad. And I’m so lucky,” you blubber. “This is it! I’m never leaving to go scouting again. I can’t take it.”

“Mhmm. Let’s revisit that when you’re about two months postpartum and clawing at the walls.”

You laugh with him, your own sticky and goopy. “Fine.”

“Go to bed, love, and for the record, I’m the lucky one. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” You blow a kiss and he catches it. You roll your eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You stay like that for a bit, cradled by the pillows, and your phone on your chest, thinking about everything from Dieter to the next school picture day, to the next family vacation, and of course, the zillion things you have to get done with work before the baby comes — hopefully all from the home office.

She kicks.

You smile, wondering how you and Zelle both just know it’s a girl. Dieter has his own suspicions, he says, but he’s saving them. Orion would probably be thrilled to have a dragon in the family. You snort, hand over the place where she put her little foot.

“I miss them too, sweetie. And once you’re here, we’ll outnumber those silly boys. Maybe we’ll have to get a dog. You’ll like dogs.”

She’s silent, maybe sleeping, maybe thinking about what the heck a dog is. You smile, turn off the lamp, and peel back the covers. The sheets are cool and soft.

You fall asleep, dreaming of little feet, and hands, and wedding rings.

#dieter bravo #daddy dieter #gonna make this an official tag if its the last thing i do #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #100 followers event

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sanjoongie · 10 months

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Dual Courtship: Heart in your throat

A Sci-Fi Medley Chapter~

The Cast~

Yeosang, Jongho- Predators Yunho, San, Mingi- Furyans Hongjoong, Wooyoung- Alien (Hunter status) Seonghwa- Alien (Queen status) Ot8 x captain/pilot! Reader

ღPairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f) x Kang Yeosang ღGenre/Au/Trope: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope ღWord Count: 3,034 ღWarnings: Warnings: cnc(consensual non-consent), predator/prey play (no pun intended ><), double penetration (two cocks one puss), fingering (f receiving), slight mxm, marking (blood, claws digging into flesh), fear kink, sub! Reader, doms! Jongho and Yeosang, penetrative sex with no protection, aftercare (for both the sex and the wounds), creampie ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot ღSynopsis: the predators version of flirting/foreplay with their beloved captain is to hunt her and fuck her. This is what precedes their decision ;) ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii who will always read the crazy shit that comes from my head, the perfect beta readers ღA/N: I blame haru @stardragongalaxy once again for reviving this in my head. If you only knew the dirty sex scenes that have been planned. Please note: this scene takes place before Seonghwa lays his eggs

You felt as if you were being followed all day. It was a weird feeling to be nursing while you were on a ship, which had limited suspects, and on yours, which you knew every screw and plate of metal. But that didn’t take away from the fact that you were alone in the cockpit right now, and the darkness of space was not comforting as it usually was.

“San?” You called out cautiously.

San did enjoy sneaking into the cockpit with you when everyone else was sleeping. He would approach with a sly and coy smile and always managed to get what he wanted. Which usually contained either fucking your mouth while he was in the captain’s seat or fucking you while you were in the seat.

When nothing but silence met you, you attempted to shrug off the feeling of being watched.

You checked the star map for the umpteenth time but your course was still correct. You were flying outside the regular shipping routes, looking to stay below any other aliens' radar. You checked the local radars for any threat of another ship or meteor shower but it showed complete peace out in nearby space. So you could not credit your feeling of impending danger on that either.

Your instincts usually led you to the right conclusion so you were really confusing yourself. The ship creaked and a shiver ran straight down your spine. The ship creaked all the time but this sounded like stress from added weight in the vents. You were familiar with this sound because of how much Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Wooyoung frequented said vents.

You were about to mutter under your breath about living with aliens when you felt a presence behind you. You whirled around in your chair but there was nothing behind you but you swore you had felt a rush of air pass you.

“Ridiculous,” You cursed and got up from your seat after ensuring the ship was on autopilot. You were going to move to the mess hall and make yourself something warm to sip on.

However, while walking along the ship that you had begun to see as home with your found alien family, you didn’t feel any better. You swore you could hear brief susurrations above you, like someone was walking along the high upper railings when you moved through the cargo bay but the stray ropes and electric wires simply swayed with a small bump of the dual engines adjusting and maintaining balance.

Why were you getting so creeped out? Was it because you were so used to having one of the aliens that lived here near you at all times? Perhaps you should wake up Mingi to play cards with and help him win a hand finally…

You whipped around, swearing you felt a breath of air on your neck and this time you did seem to catch a foot on a pipe above before it disappeared.

Suddenly everything clicked. There had been a conversation a while ago, with all the races seated in various positions scattered before you in the mess hall. No aliens on this ship intended to harm you in any way, but they were aliens, and most of them were natural hunters. They needed to keep their instincts and talents sharpened and honed, and that included being approved to ‘hunt’ you. The perimeters included ‘struggling’ and ‘denying’ that you agreed to any of this. It thrilled the aliens and turned on a few, to seemingly take you while you were attempting to get away. You agreed with them, on all levels.

You straightened your shoulders and finished making your drink in the kitchen part of the mess hall. You gripped the cup and made your way back through the mess hall and then through the cargo bay. Once you were back in the smaller confines of the hallway, however, the kid gloves were off.

Yeosang, in his full Predator gear, dropped down in front of you, cloaking device clearly powered down already. Your instincts had you drawing your gun, treating this as if the Predator was a true threat. However, what you did not call for was that the Predators were hunting you as a pair. Jongho put a firm hand over yours, halting your gun from even being removed from your holster. You felt this rather than saw it because Jongho had not disabled his cloaking device.

“Got you,” Yeosang whispered into your ear. As your head turned, you watched him remove his helmet completely, drawn in by the slow reveal of the beautiful Predator.

“Let go of the gun,” Jongho ordered.

You allowed him to lead your hand away from your gun and pull your arm taunt behind your back, almost to the point of over extending it. Jongho didn’t want to break the mold quite yet, it seemed.

You had eyes only for Yeosang at this moment. You couldn't help yourself. The way his arm muscles bulged as he tucked his helmet under his arm was making your heart spike in rate.

“Are you more scared or turned on, little mouse?” Jongho asked, lips whispering along your trapezius, your neck muscles.

Yeosang laughed but it was definitely mocking. “Check how much of a mess her underwear is because of how scared she was.”

Jongho, after appearing visible to you finally, stuffed his hands down your pants mercilessly and you moaned when two fingers swiped along your inner folds. “She’s soaking wet,” Jongho announced.

Yeosang cuffed your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. “You’re a fun prey to stalk, moonlight.”

“You sensed us almost immediately,” Jongho said with a sense of pride. “Your instincts are worthy of a non-Predator mate.”

You whimpered as Jongho pushed his two fingers into you without further ado. Your pussy adapted immediately to the intrusion, genes long since changed to taking large appendages within your cunt from Seonghwa’s saliva absorbed through kisses.

Yeosang didn’t let you go, instead he confidently smirked before he brought his lips to yours. His lips ate up yours but whimpers continued to slip from your lips as Jongho finger-fucked you slowly.

“Like being taken advantage of in the middle of the hallway, don’t you, little mouse?” Jongho whispered to you seductively.

Your muffled noises of disagreement could be heard but that didn’t stop Yeosang from drifting his hand from cupping your head to running a claw along your collarbone. “Your quickening pulse is alluring, moonlight,” he said upon releasing your lips finally.

“Please--the ship!” Your protests sounded weak even to your ears, but that could have been because you felt very weak between the two Predators right now.

Yeosang lifted an eyebrow up at your statement. Jongho added a thumb to strum your clit while his fingers moved in and out of you and you were like putty in his arms. That caused Yeosang to frown. “Stop hogging the captain,” Yeosang growled.

Jongho chuckled. “Come and take her, then, brother.” The two often referred to each other as brothers-in-arms, shortened to brother when the timing called for it. The camaraderie the two had felt for each other while they had hunted you was clearly fading now.

Yeosang physically pulled you from Jongho’s grasp, pressing your back up against the cool metal of the ship. You gasped as your exposed shoulders in your tank top experienced the temperature play. Yeosang dived in to capture your lips once again, eating up your moans as he grinded into your now sensitive core, covered only by the thin material of your pants and underwear. “Why have fingers when you can have me?” Yeosang tempted you.

Jongho released another chuckle, folding his arms over his armored chest. His stance was wide, his thigh muscles adjusting under the fishnets covering them. “Why don’t we test just how well developed her genes are now? The scanner showed she’s changed quite a lot.”

“Wha--” You paused to swallow and brought moisture back to your mouth. “What exactly does that entail?”

Yeosang appeared intrigued as he stared back at Jongho. “Do you want us both to be stuffed within her sweet cunt?”

You cursed under your breath, not prepared for that at all. “What? Excuse me?”

“Come on, little mouse, you can take the both of us at the same time, right?” Jongho crooned convincingly.

You pressed your lips together. “I’ve never tried…but I want to.”

“Me first,” Yeosang announced. He licked and sucked your neck as he grinded into you some more, until he couldn't take your sweet moans any longer. He easily ripped your pants and underwear off, your tank top being ripped down the middle, to make you completely available for him. He pushed down his own armored loincloth and his girthy cock sprung free. He did his best to rub himself against your wet folds but once the tip of his cock flirted with your eager hole, he pushed right in.

“I’ll never get enough of this sweet cunt,” Yeosang grunted, already quickly moving in and out of you.

One of your legs curled around his waist instinctively, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “You’re driving me wild, Moonlight,” Yeosang snarled.

Jongho patiently stood by as Yeosang had his fill but put a firm hand on Yeosang’s shoulder to stop him before he could release his seed inside of you. “Brother, it is time.” He dropped his loincloth to the floor, stepping neatly out of the confines.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled out of you and you spared a brain cell to wonder if they had already made plans for this before Yeosang took a stance behind you and Jongho in front of you now. “Hello again, little mouse.”

“Jongho,” You couldn't help but pout at the loss of Yeosang inside of you.

“Did Yeosang stretch you out enough for me?” Now Jongho was smirking.

“How about you focus less on my dick and more on your own,” Yeosang suggested.

Jongho placed his taloned hands around your waist and helped you hop up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your slippery cunt rubbed up against his straining cock. The both of you groaned at the feeling but now was not the time to indulge. You had already been stretched out by Jongho’s fingers and Yeosang’s cock, but you still enjoyed the delicious stretch it was to take Jongho’s cock inside of you. You made pleased noises and Jongho’s gummy smile came out to play. “You always make the best noises for me, little mouse.”

Once Jongho was fully seated inside of you, Yeosang kissed your shoulder. “Get ready, moonlight.”

Jongho kissed you in distraction, sucking on your lower lip, even so much as pulling it gently with his teeth and growling. Yeosang angled his cock from behind you, prodding your hole and you moaned into Jongho’s mouth when Yeosang slowly entered you.

“Just a little bit more, you can do it,” Yeosang encouraged. He didn’t sound any better, his voice tight and high.

When the two of them were deep inside of you, everyone was breathing heavily. Your mind was simply white noise, adjusting and simply drinking in the feeling of both of the Predator’s cocks within your cunt.

“Ready for some movement, little mouse?” Jongho asked, your head having fallen on his shoulder and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Please,” you whimpered and then there were truly no thoughts in your head.

Jongho moved slowly whereas Yeosang’s thrusts were quick. They moved in the opposite rhythm of each other, somehow in sync with each other. You could hear the pathetic mewls leaving your mouth but you found that you couldn't care less about how you sounded. The two cocks fucking you felt so good, you were almost sure you were being spoiled, and one cock might not do moving forward.

“So good,” You whimpered, causing both Predator’s to chuckle a chuckle only men have when a woman is weak for them. “Wanna come. Will you come inside of me? Both of you?”

“Mark her first, then we can come inside of her,” Yeosang commanded.

Jongho stared at you adoringly. “Little mouse, these are badges of honor. We respect your instincts, courage and most importantly, your ability to bring all our races together. It will hurt for a bit and we will have to be gentle with you while they heal, but I hope you wear them with pride, my mate.”

You nodded, bracing for the pain of being marked. Yeosang cupped one side of your waist, Jongho the other, as their opposite hands prepared to cut you with their talons. Jongho’s carefully sliced your breast, the long claw marks moving from your side and under your boob. Yeosang claw marks drew up and around your shoulder, deep only enough for a scar but not as deep to cause any permanent harm. You winced and cried out but the pain was soon washed away as Yeosang bucked up into your heat.

“It’ll be okay, little mouse,” Jongho assured you, holding still while Yeosang set his pace.

“It hurts,” You whimpered but Yeosang kissed up your neck as a distraction this time.

Jongho was soon moving inside of you and you moaned in bliss. Yeosang was playing with your pussy, pulling out completely and then pushing back in, making your pussy accommodate both girths over and over again. Jongho was the constant inside of you, thrusts remaining deep inside but due to this, he was closer to coming first.

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed, biting down on his lip.

Yeosang laughed in derision. “Gonna come already, Jongho?”

“Shut up,” Jongho snapped, eyes closed as he attempted to pace himself.

“Is it because our captain’s tight little heat is so good or do you enjoy my cock sliding along yours inside of her?” Yeosang teased his fellow Predator.

“Shut the hell up, Yeosang, and fuck our captain’s pretty pussy,” Jongho snarled.

You had slipped so deep into your headspace, being stretched so deliciously with two cocks, that their conversation was simply passing over your head. You groaned lowly, some spit dripping from the corner of your mouth, head lolling slightly like a ragdoll.

Yeosang smirked and continued to play with you and seemingly Jongho as well. His dick stayed inside you, thrusts pushing against Jongho’s cock and thus your g-spot. Jongho and you were a moaning wreck soon enough, Jongho’s milky cum mingling with your own as your toes curled and your back arched. Yeosang came next, placing his hands on your ass and spreading your cheeks. You could feel all their cum dripping down their cocks and out of your hole, leaving a puddle on the ship’s floor.

"Am I interrupting?" A voice cut through your orgasm-induced brain.

"You are," Jongho murmured.

Yunho said dryly, "Well, perhaps you would consider having your rituals not in the middle of the hallway." He walked around you three, arms behind his back.

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you it’s not a good idea to pass by a Predator when their back is turned to you,” Yeosang snarled.

“You’re not threatened by my presence…are you?” Yunho couldn't help but poke.

Slowly, both Predators adjusted until Jongho had you in his arms, careful of both your shoulder and your breast. His large arms were more than ample coverage to hide your nakedness, at least for your sake. Yeosang’s stance was one that was battle ready. You opened your mouth to halt Yeosang but Yunho was already on top of it.

“I am jesting,” Yunho laughed, “I am no threat. I will simply pilot the ship until our captain has recovered.”

Yunho walked down the hallway, taking the same path that you had been working on with your drink, long since dropped and spilled.

Yeosang turned to Jongho, with a quizzical look on his face. “That’s not like a Furyan to turn down a fight--or a fuck.”

Jongho ran a finger down your cheek tenderly, “I think our captain has changed us all, Brother.”

The two Predators took you to their quarters, quickly ripping their bedding from their bunks and gathering it together so that all three of you could rest together. A wet cloth was given to you to wipe away any access cum but they both supervised to make sure you did not wipe more than necessary to be clean.

While Yeosang discarded his armor, Jongho pulled a bottle that looked to be self-made. “This is a remedy we make on our homeworld,” Jongho explained, motioning for you to lean over so that he may dress your shoulder wound first. “First, you make the bottle from a beloved hound's skin and then the tree that sacrificed its sap for you. You sew the bark and skin together. The mixture is the sap of a tree known for both its healing properties and for its sticky factor. We introduce some nanos that also speed the healing. It’s only made for brief wounds, or marks we would like to keep from a battle.”

You watched for a moment, enamored with the blue-green glowing fluid as Jongho spilled some onto his finger to apply to the claw marks. Jongho pursed his lips sympathetically when you winced but he promised you would feel better come morning.

Yeosang had removed his armor and was about to take off some of the netting when you halted him. “Keep that on?” You asked shyly.

Yeosang smirked, ducking his head and allowing his hair to fall in his face. “Anything for you, Moonlight.”

Once Jongho had removed his armor as well, you laid on your back on the makeshift bed, Jongho and Yeosang turned on their sides to gaze at you. You were already slumbering, moving to a deep sleep to heal your body.

“She did well today,” Jongho said, pride in his voice once again.

“She took her marks and our cocks like a proper mate should,” Yeosang agreed. “You still never answered my question, however, brother.”

Jongho sighed loudly but ultimately admitted what Yeosang already knew to be true. “I enjoyed the slip of your cock against mine.”

“Good,” was all that Yeosang said and promptly fell asleep.

“You bastard,” Jongho cursed but followed suit.

All Posts | A Manic Queen

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @k-pop-ology @pyeonghongrie

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #kang yeosang smut #sci-fi medley #ღatz #topaz's work #atz smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #haru🌠#ateez x reader #choi jongho x reader #kang yeosang x reader

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klaustozier · 2 years

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memories ; chishiya

SUMMARY: you go to the hospital for medical check-ups, chishiya comes to check on you, and for some reason he feels like he's met you, but he can't remember quite well from where.

this is smut, be aware of what you read!

warnings: chishiya x fem!reader, daddy kink, big cock!chishiya, light spit kink, praise kink, degradation kink, quickie, begging, breeding kink, creampie, face slap, masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism

this was a request, so i hope that the person who asked likes it!

english is not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistakes

word count: 2.2k

i hope you enjoy it!

You were waiting for your doctor to come back to do your checkups, but apparently he had been called to see another patient, and the situation got worse and they sent another doctor to attend to you.

"Hello, miss, good morning", he said as he entered the room, you were sitting in front of the doctor's desk, you smiled at him when he greeted you, "Nice to meet you, I'm Chishiya", he offered you his hand and when you touched it, something happened, he frowned at you and smiled without understanding, "I feel like I know you… have we met each other before?"

Your cheeks flushed instantly, letting go of his hand as, for some very inopportune reason, your mind had come up with a very inappropriate scenario where you were bent over a desk in an office you didn't know, getting fucked by him and whimpering his name, asking for more.

"I don't think so…", you chuckled awkwardly, "Maybe I have one of those faces."

"I don't agree… I would never forget your face", and he smiled making your face feel flushed even more, and that's what he wanted to see, "So", he continued, happily following the conversation so you didn't have to say nothing, "can you sit on the gurney over there, please?"

You got up from your chair and climbed onto the padded gurney against the wall and waited. Chishiya took your blood pressure, checked your breathing, and assessed your reflexes, as you tried to push all rude thoughts away like the one where you both were making out on a bed in what seemed like a hotel room. Where did you get those ideas from? What was your problem? He was very handsome, but damn, wait a minute to think like that.

"Let's do a complete blood count", he said after writing things down on his clipboard, "is that all right? Are you fasting, right?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Just call me Chishiya, please", he smiled, "I'll have a nurse take you to get your blood drawn, ok?"

"Yes, Chishiya", you smiled, making him sigh.

Something inside of him told him that the thoughts of fucking you on a table weren't just his head making a wish of its own, it felt like a memory, and he wanted to relive them, "Are you going somewhere to eat?", you frowned at him, "You can't go home without eating."

You laughed, "Oh, yeah, I was going to eat at a convenience store nearby."

"Can I make you a proposal?", you nodded and waited, "Here at the hospital there is a restaurant for employees and the breakfast is wonderful", you raised your eyebrow doubtfully, making him laugh, "I'm not lying, it's really good. Pinky swear", and he lifted his pinky making you smile.

You laced your pinky with his, "But what if I don't like it, what do I get?"

"If you don't like it, I'll take you out to dinner."

"I think I already hated it", he smiled, and, fuck, his smile was beautiful.

"I'm going to call the nurse, as soon as you're done wait for me and I'll take you with me, ok?", you nodded, "See you in a bit, miss."

You had to force yourself to stay still as the nurse drew your blood, your legs shaking non stop with anxiety. All you could think about was him, you could see so clearly his eyes devouring you as you knelt before him, blowing him. You were going to need to talk to a psychiatrist soon.

"Can we go?", asked the blonde as he approached, smiling.

You nodded and took a deep breath as his gaze devoured you from top to bottom, could you make that erotic fantasy in your mind come true? And with him in that lab coat? Could that happen?

The staff restaurant was quite small, with four four-seater tables and a small counter with a black menu on the glass with various snacks, there was no one to offer them, the staff could get them on their own, the people who worked to make them were in the kitchen behind the counter, so they were alone. He chose a chicken salad sandwich each and sat down next to you.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be eating here? I'm not an employee", you commented feeling guilty, you hadn't thought about that when you were invited, you only thought about his blonde ponytail.

"It's okay… I'm the best doctor here, I have privileges", he said jokingly.

"Says who?", you mocked back.

"I said and I'm the best doctor here so you have to believe me."

You smiled and accepted the sandwich. The two talked softly while eating, everything was fine, until his voice started to get smother. His hand went up to your wrist, being gentle.

"I know this is going to sound weird… but I have memories with you", at the same instant your eyebrows rose, the fact that you knew exactly what he was talking about made your heart race, "But they're not memories that I remember having, if that makes sense", he chuckled, "I think you know what I'm talking about… I introduced myself and you started blushing."

"Chishiya", you whispered, looking at him in amazement, your cheeks flushing again, your skin glowing.

"I think you saw what I saw", whispered the doctor, his lips approaching your ear, "You riding my cock, your pretty face contorted", his hand slid down your jeans-covered thigh, "you kept moaning my name in such a cute way, begging to be spanked and choked… if I'm not mistaken, you called me 'daddy' too."

"Chishiya, I don't… we can't…"

"Can't we?", he repeated, laughing softly, "I can do whatever I want, I'm the best doctor here", and he brought his face close to yours, "Are you doubting daddy, princess?"

"No, daddy."

Chishiya smiled and stood up, pulling you by the hand, "Come with me, I need better memories of you blowing me."

"Chishiya, keep it down!", you asked in a whispered scream.

"I will not…"

You were taken to a private room for employees, where they could sleep in short breaks on very long shifts. The door was locked and he kissed you, desperately, his hands grabbing your thighs and placing them around his waist, laying you down on the bed. His lips dominating yours, your tongue rubbing against his, your legs wrapped around his waist, your hips grinding against his, feeling his erection pressing against your pussy, the thick material of your jeans rubbing against you, but not that satisfying.

You parted your lips, sticking out your tongue, purring as Chishiya let saliva slide from his tongue onto yours.

His hands pulled your shirt up, revealing your bare breasts, making him smirk, "Oh… still with that braless thing, huh?"

He sighed, took his tongue to the delicate nipple and licked it, being delicate while his hands went to your pants, opening them and then took them off along with your panties, returning to suck your breasts, while his fingers started to fuck you. They didn't have much time to be in there and he didn't want to wait until his shift was over, if he didn't fuck you right now, he wouldn't going to be able to concentrate all day.

"Daddy", you whispered, your fingers sliding through the his fringe, sliding the blonde strands back, whimpering, your hips rolling against his fingers, which quickly fucked you.

"You're so fucking hot", he whispered, licking your nipples, sighing, "Such a fucking slut."

"Daddy", you whimpered, "let me blow you, please."

Chishiya smiled, one of his hands squeezing one of your breasts while his hand was still working on fucking you, your body squirmed under his, "Do you want to suck my cock, little girl?", he asked, you nodded, "Then ask for some more."

"Please daddy, let me suck you", you began, your hands sliding through his blonde hair, "please, please, please, let me choke on your cock, please, I need to remember what it feels like to have your cock pounding my throat."

"Fuck", he whispered, darkly, "You know how to beg, baby girl", and chuckled as he sat down on the small bed, "You can do whatever you want to me."

For a second, you thought about his clothes, he looked so handsome in that lab coat, he looked so important and serious, so the only thing you did was open his pants. You were kneeling on the floor between his legs, his cock pulsing in front of your face, your hand gently touching it, the red tip leaking pre-cum, begging for attention.

You sighed and let your tongue run the length of the thick cock, smiling as the blonde whimpered softly, your hair being stroked as your mouth moved up and down, his body tensing whenever you allowed his cock to reach your throat. Saliva glided over your lips, drooling over his skin, helping the movements of your mouth and hands, one helping to massage the part that didn't fit in your mouth while the other massaged his balls.

Your jaw ached, your eyes were teary and your pussy throbbed, it hurted, you could feel your pleasure wetting your thighs. Your eyes rose to Chishiya's and you purred softly, the vibration in your throat caressing his cock, making him moan.

"You were made to suck cock", he whispered, "Look at you", his thumb slid along your lower lip pulling it down so he could see your tongue, "with that perfect little mouth", and he whimpered rolling his eyes eyes of pure pleasure, "Don't you want to ride me, baby?"

"Please, sir, I want to be stretched out", you whispered, rolling your tongue around the tip of his cock.

"Come here, kitten", he asked, pulling you by the waist, placing you sitting on his lap, your legs wrapped around his, your arms hugging his neck. The two kissed, one of Chishiya's hands was on your ass and the other was holding his cock, pulling you down to sit on it.

You moaned, feeling yourself being stretched out as you wanted. When you were all sitting on it, you tried to move, but Shuntaro grabbed you by the ass, keeping you in place, getting separate whimpers from you.

"Chishiya", you whispered, "Fuck me…"

He smiled, one of his hands letting go of your ass while the other wrapped around your waist to keep you in place. His free hand caressed your face before slapping, "No… beg nicely and I'll do whatever you want."

You whined, "Please, mister Shuntaro, fuck me, I already said I wanted to be stretch by your cock, don't be mean to me."

He smiled, "I would never be mean to my little doll."

And Chishiya started to move. The memories you had and didn't know from where, didn't do justice to what you were feeling at that moment. Your moans grew louder, but you kissed him to try not to make a scene while you clung to his lab coat, feeling your pussy being punished.

"Fuck", whispered the doctor, "such a tight pussy…"

"Daddy", you purred, your body moving more with the man's strength than yours because he had a rhythm he wanted to follow and who were you to go against his will?

"Where did I meet you?", he whispered softly, giving you a peck, "Where was that office I fucked you in? I wanted to go fuck you there again."

You smiled, laying your forehead on his, moaning and panting heavily, "I have a nice home office…"

The blonde grinned, "It will do", he whispered.

Chishiya came first, his cock sunk inside you, panting softly, but you still hadn't cum and he had a plan to satisfy you. He laid you down on the bed and spread your legs, kneeling in front of you, watching your pussy all fucked and wet.

His thumb pressed onto your clit and started massaging it, "Fuck that little pussy so I can watch, c'mon, princess."

You moaned and nodded, your hand going to your pussy, two fingers sinking into you without difficulty, the massage on your clit never stopped, your free hand squeezed your own breast as you moaned for him. You looked at him, feeling like a piece of meat, he looked at you hungrily, watching you fuck yourself. His cum slipped between your fingers, slicking your pussy even further.

"I'm going to cum, daddy, may I?", you asked slyly.

"Of course, my baby girl, cum for me."

It didn't take long, your orgasm hit you hard, moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you felt your body burn. You didn't even have time to catch your breath, being kissed with desperation by the blonde.

"Did you like the sandwich?", he asked, giving you a peck.

You shook your head, "I hated it."

"Fuck…", he sneered, "I'm going to have to take you out to dinner."

"Too bad", you whispered, kissing him again.

He waited while you got dressed and exchanged phone numbers with you. The doctor accompanied you downstairs and said goodbye. Fifteen minutes later, he received a message from you. It was a picture of you, in the hospital bathroom, in front of the mirror, showing your breasts, making him smile and shake his head. How he was going to pay attention to his work until it was time to leave, he had no idea.

…

tags: @rinmoeii @proseinborderland @thereeallink @kalinkavx @butttttterbean @chishiyasbbg @aichiomei @sp1ng @ehddsnys @smiley-roos @bowscale @itzz-me-duh @crybabyyzey222 @smh-anon @rainqissedd @marigoldflwrs @xxxsecuritybreach @bo-mitski @zooni92802 @ang3liclov3ly @gold02

please reblog and leave a like if you enjoyed it! and leave a comment with your thoughts, i would love to know!

see ya next time.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

♡masterlist♡

#chishiya #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro #aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya fic #chishiya imagine #chishiya x you #aib #alice in borderland season 2 #alice in borderland #aib s2 #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #imagine chishiya

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punishereditz · 2 years

Text

Black Blue And Bloodily

Gif by me

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Nurse!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Smut. A little bit of blood. Mentions of violence. Praise kink. Praise kink. Strong praise kink. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Breeding kink. Frank being needy. Dirty talk.

AN: This is so much longer than I planned. I promise it gets better. This took me two days to write but it was so worth it.

Summary: Your use to hearing 'Pete' stumbling around next door, but today is different. Today you find him almost dead at your doorstep. Right when you think things couldn't get any more interesting, it does...

You huff frustratedly as your keys drop to the floor from trying to get your door open. Your hands full with grocery bags. You look across the hall to see that Pete's door is open. You don't think much of it, shrugging it off. You finally get your door open. Going straight to your kitchen to sit the bags down on the counter. Starting to put everything away.

Once that is all done. You flop down face first on the couch. Sighing in relief of being off of your feet after standing on them for over 12 hours straight with no break.

Your eyes get heavy as the sleepiness starts to wash over you. Somethings off. Your eyes open at the sound of silence. This is weird. Normally when you get off of your night shift, you always hear some type of commotion coming from across the hall. But your greeted with dead silence. It's so quiet that you could hear a fly in the room. You never know what the man is doing. Rather it's long hours and he gets in at the same time as you, or he is bringing woman home. There is always some type of noise. Now there is nothing. You remember that his door was open when you got home. You can't help but start to worry.

You try to brush it off. It's none of your business. You try to go to sleep. Not even worrying about changing or walking down to your room. But the worry keeps you from drifting into sleep you want oh so badly. There's this feeling building in your gut that something is wrong. It's your 'nurse' instinct. Like a power that comes with your job to know when something is even the slightest bit off.

You stand from the couch. Rubbing your eyes. You hear a bang at your door. Your instantly on high alert. Running to your door. When you open the door and look down at your feet. You're greeted with the sight of Pete passed out, covered head to toe in blood. You drop to your knees. Placing his head in your lap. You place your fingers over his pulse. Luckily his heart is beating, but it's not beating fast.

You stand. Grabbing the under of his arms and dragging him into your apartment. You struggle. Swearing the man is made of stone. You somehow get him on your couch.

"Shit," You mumble under your breath to yourself. You quickly start searching his body. Cutting his clothes off. Looking at what injures he has. You try to stop the questions from running through your mind. You have never seen the man without bruises, now he is barely holding onto life on your couch. It makes you wonder what else there is to him.

You somehow manage to sort everything out with work. Making sure to stay home in case he wakes up.

You sit at your table looking over some documents. Doing what work you can at home. You notice Frank moving around. Seeing his eyes start to flicker open and his face growing confused with the different surroundings. You quickly move over to him. Putting on a pair of gloves. His eyes meet yours. Looking at you perplexed.

He tries to raise up, but you put a hand to his chest pushing him back down. "Slow your role. You need to rest. No moving around, okay?" His face softens hearing your nurturing voice and he rests his head against his shoulder. He has no idea what happened. He's not sure if he is even alive right now, he swears he has been met with an angel.

"What happened?" He mumbles.

"You were passed out at my door." You explain. Not looking at his eyes that are glued on you. You stay focused on what you're doing of taking care of him.

You finish. Silence growing in between the two of you as you lean back. Sitting at the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

"Why did you help me?" His voice is groggy and low. His eyes have been searching yours since he woke. Like he is compelled by you. In a trance. All his attention on you.

"Why would you say that? I wasn't going to leave you for dead. It's my nature to help." He smally smiles up at you. His hand dangling from the couch. Coming up to rest on your knee.

"You a doctor?"

"ER Nurse." You correct him.

"Do you mind explaining to me why every time I see you, you are black blue and bloodily?" Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you ask the question you're dying to have an answer to.

He hesitates, but he tells you everything. Explaining that his name isn't Pete, but his name is Frank Castle. That he is the punisher, and that he pissed off the wrong people and got out number by about 50 men. He explained a little bit of his past as to how he got here. Only telling what you need to know. Not getting into detail, and you respect that.

Throughout the day, you go about your work. Checking on him every hour. Talking to him when he is awake. Making sure he doesn't do too much. He tells you how he is fine and how he appreciates it, but he doesn't need the help and that he wants to go back to his apartment.

You stand your ground, telling him that he cannot leave until he is well. His injures are to serve for him to just stand back up and walk away. He is hurt enough that he needs to rest for the next three days at least. You two have gone back and forth. You winning the argument every time.

The next four days pass with ease. But you notice that Frank has something on his mind. Like he wants to say something but not saying it. He is hard to read. So, you don't know.

You sigh angrily. One cut on his ribs being stubborn and not wanting to heal right. And of course, it's the biggest cut on him. "This cut... it's not wanting to heal like the others." You say more to yourself then him.

You look when he doesn't respond. Seeing that his eyes are already on you. Your heart skips a beat at his dark eyes boarded on you. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His lips parted but no words coming out.

"Why doesn't it bother you?" He asks the question he has had on his mind for the past five days.

"I'm a nurse. Remember? I see a lot of things every day." You explain but he shakes his head confusing you.

"No, no, I mean... when I told what I had done. You... didn't seem bothered. I've done terrible things. Awful things and you treat me so... nicely. Why?" He stutters. His hand resting on your knee like every day when you sit in front of him.

"You only kill men, correct?" He nods in response. Watching you carefully, reading you very closely to see if he can find something else that might be there.

"Okay then." You shrug. He looks at you confused.

"That doesn't bother you? What I've done?"

"Well, did they deserve it? Were they terrible men?" He only nods.

You don't say anything. Neither does he. You only look into his eyes. Thinking about how he has you running in circles. The past five days his gaze and cocky remarks have made you flustered. You slap yourself every time he gets to you, trying to pull yourself together. But he seems to pull you back in.

You go to stand, but his hold on your knee stops you. You look at him confused. Seeing his Adams apple bob, his lips parted, and his eyes looking over your body at your scrubs that you're wearing because you had to make a trip to the hospital to sort out a few things early.

His hand moves from your knee up to your lower thigh. Your heart skipping a beat and your breath catching. His touch on your skin smoothing but his eyes say something else as he watches his hand exploring your leg. His gaze lustful on you. His hands keep moving up until he is holding your hip. Lightly squeezing it.

You know you shouldn't. You shouldn't want to kiss him. Your taking care of him. It feels like you're on work hours. Doing this, doing more would feel like breaking the rules. But the heat growing is speaking louder than your thoughts. Your body is talking for you, and you don't like it. Yet, at the same time, it almost feels good to be doing something on the edge. But before you can make any sort of a move, he's doing it for you. Beating you to it. His other hand pulling you down so that he can capture your lips in his.

It surprises you. The sudden move by him. But you quickly relax under his touch. Leaning into the kiss. Your shocked at how soft his lips are. At how gently his hold is. How ruff he is, his whole body scarred, yet his lips are so soft on yours. All the things he's done, his hands are so gently on you. He holds you as if you are a fragile glass piece that could break.

You cup his face. Kissing him softly. You pull away. Your breath heavy. You look at his eyes to him already looking at you, then down to his lips. Seeing how they are pinker and plumber now from where he has kissed you. You know you already pushed it too far. That there is no turning back. So, you kiss him again. This time more needy and not as slowly as before.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip, and he opens his mouth a little more, letting you slip your tongue in. He moves his hand from the side of your neck to your hip. Holding both of your sides now. He puts you on his lap with ease.

"Frank..." You moan into his mouth. He hums into your lips as a response. He doesn't pull away until you do. "This isn't right. Your hurt. We, we can't do this." You try to control your breathing. Watching him study you.

"It's just a little cut." He tries to kiss you again, but you pull away. You can't believe yourself for allowing yourself to do this. You know better than this. Yes, you want it, but you should have just controlled yourself and not let those stupid beautiful eyes get to you.

"Your hurt. Oh my God..." You mumble. Trying to stand up but he keeps you in place on his lap. His lips coming to yours in hope to stop your nerves.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. I'm alright. Think you can stop nursing for second, huh?" His reassuring words are teasing. Making you laugh. You think about it. At a war with yourself.

"I'm not hurt. Please... you have no idea how long I've wanted this." He tells you after you don't say anything. He brings his lips up to hover over yours. Desperation in his eyes. In his body language as he moves closer to you.

You kiss him. Dragging it out. Keeping his lips on yours. Wanting to never lose the feeling of his kiss. You pull away, "If you start hurting. Even a little bit. We stop. Do you understand? I'll only do this if you promise you'll tell me if you're in pain." Your voice is firm.

"I promise." He kisses you. But instead of kissing your lips, he kisses your neck. Gently placing kisses on you. He stops at your jawline. Starting to suck on the skin. He pulls at your shirt, desperate to see more. Touch more.

You pull away long enough to pull it over your head. Your black laced bra revealed to him. He groans at the sight of you. His cock fully hard now. His hands move up your sides to your back. Unhooking the garment and throwing it to the side. His hands coming up to your breast and his mouth back to your lips. He leans up with you. Sitting up straight against the couch. His hard cock pressed to your clothed pussy. You both moan into each other's mouth. His hands coming up to your pants. Tugging at them. You stand in front of him for him to pull them down. He makes quick work at his pants. Pulling them down, you help. Getting them completely off.

You can't hold back the gasp when you see his size. Seeing how big he is. He pulls you back on his lap. Spraddling your legs around him. Without a word, he has his fingers in-between your folds. His finger quickly finding that sensitive bud. You brace yourself. One hand on his chest and the other on the couch. You can't hold back the moans that escape from your lips.

"Attagirl. So wet," He coos in your ear. Praising you. His finger moving down to your entrance. He pushes one finger in. Watching your face pinch together in pleasure. He keeps pushing until his whole finger is in. He adds another. His two fingers starting to curl and pump in you. You moan his name. Trying to grind your hips into his movement but he holds you still.

He uses his thumb to make circles around your clit. Adding just a little bit of pressure. His fingers curling just right. Between his fingers fucking you and his thumb on your clit, your overwhelmed with pleasure. Never feeling this good.

"That feel goods... doesn't it? My pretty girl." He says just as if he just read your mind. As your climax builds. Seconds away from coming. He stops. Pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth. Sucking your wetness off of his fingers.

"Are you okay?" You ask him with concern in your tone. He laughs at you. Kissing your lips. "Never felt better." He lines his cock up with your entrance. You lower yourself down on him. Taking every inch of him. Slowly filling you up.

He bottoms out. Taking all of his cock. You pull up. Moaning, you move your hips back down. Starting to move on his cock. "Attagirl. Just like that. That's it. Take your time. Uh, fuck, uh, you're doing so good." He holds your lower back. One hand coming up to get a handful of your hair.

His words do something to you. You somehow get wetter. His words playing over in your head. You start to go a little faster. Swirling your hips. He groans. Holding you tighter. He looks down. Watching his cock going in and out of you. He groans again.

Using all his strength to let you do it. Fighting the urge to move your hips with his hands and thrust up into you. Fighting the urge to grab you and flip you over so that he is on top fucking you deeper. He controls himself.

"Frank." You moan his name. Kissing him. Your hands rubbing his abs. Your movement on his cock almost teasing. Your lips moving to kiss his jaw. He moves one hand to hold your side. The other on your throat. Lightly squeezing. He can't take it anymore. He wraps his arm around your waist. Flipping you under him. Laying you on the couch. He holds your legs up to wrap around his waist. Pounding into you. His hips thrusting into yours. The new angle, the sudden change of him taking control makes you moan loudly.

"Uh, goddamn. Uh, sweetheart, you feel so good. Such a good girl." He groans into your neck. His thrusts starting to get sloppy as he starts to get closer to coming undone.

His cock twitches. Hitting that spot in you, making you cum. Moaning his name as your climax crashes over you. Your body tensing and your nails dragging down his back. Your climax, his name on your lips, and your nails in his back sends him into his. Thrusting into you harshly, he fills your pussy up with his come. Moaning your name. Your back arched off the couch, your breasts pressed against his bare chest.

He slows down. Stopping, he lays over you. Shifting his weight so he doesn't crush you. He kisses your salty skin. His hand rubbing your side. Coming up and lacing his fingers in yours. You go to get up to clean, but he doesn't budge. He doesn't let you get up.

"Can we just stay like this? Just for a little bit longer?" He mumbles against your chest. You can't help but laugh. Melting in his hold. Using your free hand to play with his wild hair. You kiss his forehead. Continuing to play with his hair. He purrs against you. Leaning into you. He closes his eyes, and your smile grows. Holding him close to you.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #the punisher smut #the punisher #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #the walking dead #mcu #marvel #marvel story #marvel cinematic universe #mcu smut #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #smut #one shot #punisher

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jessybarnes · 1 year

Text

Fandom: The Gray Man

Title: Bound

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 782

Tags: Smut, slight angst, dirty talk, bondage, bound and gagged, Blindfolds, choking, make up sex, fingering (female receiving), orgasm denial, begging, implied oral (male receiving), drinking, explicit language, explicit sexual content, and I think that's it

Written For: @kinktober2023, @anyfandomgoesbingo, @anyfandomangstbingo, @anyfandomdarkbingo, @badthingshappenbingo, and @thebo3bingo

Squares Filled: Kinktober Day 1 - I4 Bondage // Any Fandom Mixed Bingo - G2 Dirty Talk // Any Fandom Angst Bingo - G5 Blindfolds // Any Fandom Kink Bingo - G2 "I can be good, so good! I swear!" // Any Fandom Dark Bingo - I2 Bound and Gagged // Bad Things Happen Bingo - I2 Choking // BO3 Bingo - B4 Make Up Sex

Beta: Just Grammarly

Title Card: Yours Truly

A/N: I apologize that this is posting a day late. I had to go to the doctor and couldn't get this edited in time to post it. Day 2's drabble will be posted later tonight. :)

"I told you to stay still, Sunshine."

Lloyd sits in a chair across from you nursing a glass of bourbon. His posture is calm, but the stern look in his eyes tells you he's anything but.

You've been mounted to the St. Andrew's cross for nearly a half hour now, and you're getting antsy.

The mission you two had gone on was a success in your eyes, but Lloyd isn't focused on the computer you two were able to recover. No. He's choosing to focus on the unnecessary details.

"Baby, I've been up here since we got home. Please, can I get down?"

He takes a sip of his drunk, swirling the ice around in the glass.

"I'm admiring the view."

You sigh. "I know why you're mad, and I'm telling you, I didn't mean it. We wouldn't have gotten the damn laptop if I hadn't flirted with that idiot."

Lloyd's jaw ticks. Just the memory of seeing you, his girl, dancing with some other asshole makes his blood boil. He downs the rest of his drink and relishes the feeling of warmth in his chest.

"Will you just punish me already? I really need a shower."

He slams the glass down on the table so hard that you're surprised it's not broken. His eyes are dark with possessiveness as he approaches you, his hand wrapping around your throat.

"I don't care if you didn't mean it, Y/N! His fucking hands were all over you, touching what belongs to me!"

Lloyd loosens his grip on your neck allowing you to take in air again. He brings his thumb up and puts pressure on your bottom lip until it opens.

"You're mine. And I'm gonna keep you up here until it sinks in, you got that?"

You huff and roll your eyes making his narrow to thin slits.

"Better watch it, Sunshine, you're askin' for it."

"I am asking for it, Lloyd." The tone of your retort makes his cock twitch.

He grabs a ball gag and a blindfold off the dresser and fastens them in place.

"You oughta be using that smart mouth of yours for something more useful. Maybe I should stuff it full of my dick."

His voice is teasing, but you can't help but want him to do just that. Your panties are soaked from the feeling of the leather cuffs and the sensory deprivation, and you can't help the strangled moan that fills the room when his fingertips brush your clothed clit.

"Oh, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just like you liked dancing with that other man earlier, didn't you?"

You shake your head no and he chuckles.

"Yeah, somehow I don't believe that, Sunshine. You may not have liked the dancing with him part, but you knew it would piss me off and lead me to punish you. And you like being punished, don't you?"

You huff and give him a nod before rolling your eyes once more. He notices and growls deeply.

"Roll your eyes at me again and I'm the only one who gets to cum tonight. You got that?!"

You whine and nod as he pulls your panties to the side.

"Look at this fuckin' mess you've made. Soaking wet and I haven't even done anything. You're hungry for it, aren't you?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer as he plunges two fingers inside you, pumping them fast and hard.

"Look at me, Y/N. You're mine. This pussy, these tits, this ass, this whole body belongs to me. I'm the only one who can make you cum like this."

Your strangled moans echo throughout the room as you feel yourself about to cum, but right before the dam breaks Lloyd pulls away making you whimper.

"No, not yet. You don't deserve it, but if you're a good little girl and ask very nicely, Daddy will let you suck his cock."

You try to talk around the ball gag and he chuckles.

"If I take that off are you gonna be polite?"

You nod eagerly and he removes it from your mouth. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips and Lloyd's eyes hone in on the movement.

"Go on, Sunshine. Tell me why you think you should get to cum."

He thrusts his fingers back inside you but keeps them still. A soft moan falls past your lips and he chuckles as your pussy clenches around them.

"I can be good, so good! I swear!"

Lloyd clicks his tongue and leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Oh, I'd be very good if I were you, Y/N. That's the only way you're getting what you want tonight."

#j snow writes #kinktober 2023 #anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomdarkbingo #badthingshappenbingo #thebo3bingo #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut

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crash-and-cure · 2 years

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If I Were You Part 2 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Reader tries to navigate the immeadiate aftermath after that fateful night with Elvis, to varying success. WIth his return to performing on the horizon reader questions is if there is a way of forward that causes the least amount of damage for both parties. Elvis sees only one path forward.

Note: This is based on @venus-haze One shot If I Were You. Please go read that before this because it’s absolutely incredible. And yes before anyone asks I had her full permission to continue the story and she has been on board the whole time. I swear on my life this was originally a one-shot to continue on and let it be known what I saw for reader and Elvis’ future. Then about 5k into this story and realizing there were so many scenes I wanted to add within the first week alone for these two, I just went all in and decided to restrain this chapter to a week. There will be at least one more chapter following this. Reader is cis female, and aside from that no other descriptors are used. Full disclosure I do use this song, which, while never performed by him, has all the makings of one, and it fit to well in the scene it’s in. I do have a Bachelor’s in Psychology, but I am not a therapist, so nothing here should be treated as genuine mental health advice. That being said there is alot more focus on reader this time around. Please read the warnings before deciding to read.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: Yandere fic so there are themes of obsessive , manipulative, and delusional behavior as well as some heavy allusions to blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. There is an informal therapy session depicted here as well in which topics such as performance anxiety, sex, exploitation, and substance abuse are discussed. Depictions of drinking that may be seen as delving into alcohol abuse territory, as well as some other erratic behavior on readers part. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes oral (f. recieving), pentrative sex (m/f), spanking, some daddy kink, and other dom/sub undertones sprinkled throughout. And of course Elvis’ mommy issues and readers daddy issues (truly aa match made in hell). Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, manipulation, and uses of coercion. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

My Masterlist

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You kept that bottle of wine, you can’t fully explain why though. Worse yet you kept it in the bottom drawer of your desk, and every time you opened that drawer these past few months you were always secretly hoping that it wouldn’t be there and would always feel the disappointment when it continued to be there out of your sight. How poetic you thought idly as Elvis forced open that locked drawer after curiosity over the glass clinking sound had gotten the better of him.

Recognizing the bottle he let out a dark chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought you didn’t take gifts from us patients, Doc?” he said, very much amused as he used his teeth to take the cork out. “Don’t worry though mama,” he paused taking a swig, “I forgive ya’. Least I could do after all ya’ gave tonight.”

Shaking both in shock and humiliation, you grabbed the bottle and after nursing it for a beat too long, you proceeded to ride him to oblivion as he sat in your own desk chair in some twisted attempt to regain control of the situation. Though the closer you got to your peak, it became clear that this was all in vain. The way he sat there, lounging back, one hand behind his head and the other leaving finger-sized bruises on your rear, guiding you as you desperately chased your release, he was the very image of a King on his throne. It was on that thought that you proceeded to shatter around him once again that night, drifting as he whispered in your ear what a good girl you were.

The rest of the night proceeded as a blur as the next conscious thought you had would be wondering how you were going to get to work the next day as he drove you home in his own car. You don’t quite remember giving him directions, but for the sake of your sanity you just assumed you did. And in some perverted form of chivalry, he even walked you to your front door and gave you a tender, almost sweet, kiss as though he didn’t have you bent over your own desk not even an hour ago, before departing into the night.

You’re in a fugue state as you work toward your nightly routine. You don’t taste your dinner, you don’t hear the music from your neighbor’s radio, and you especially don’t feel his cum flaking on the skin beneath your blouse. Nope. Definitely not. You’re too ashamed to even look at yourself going so far as to shower with your lights off.

As you settle into bed that night, your sleep is fitful as you try your best to decide what to do about this night. In the end, with all the evidence of your tryst washed away, you resolve to ignore these feelings at the very least until you have to see him again.

What you can’t ignore the next morning is your car, that had no business being there, in its usual spot, along with your keys in the ignition. Not really trying to think too hard on the implications you would rush to work hoping to clean up before your first client of the day.

To your surprise everything in your office is already in order: No furniture askew, no suspicious stains on the desk or chairs, not even the panties that you swore didn’t come home with you anywhere in sight. The only proof that last night even happened at all was the broken desk drawer and the slight tenderness on your ass.

The days following that session were hazy at best to you as, even during work, your mind was occupied by him. You formulated plans as to how best to address what happened and why it must never happen again. Elvis has always had a reputation as a bit of a cad, so perhaps you can both treat this as a one time thing. Something that he had to get out of his system in order to successfully further his treatment. Even in session he confessed that he had trouble with maintaining monogamy to almost all of his previous partners - though, you thought, he did immediately follow that up with the justification that he was looking for the “right” girl.

You pushed that notion away, he will understand - he has to understand - that it would be better to return to the previous professional relationship. So come Thursday morning, you take steps to effectively unsex yourself; no makeup, loose fitting pants and blazer, hair in a less than flattering style, the whole nine yards. All of this done in an effort to make yourself a less viable option for a sexual partner .

As you leave your apartment you catch a glimpse of your ill-fitting attire and you can’t help but be reminded how as a child you would wear your fathers suits and declare you were going to be a Doctor like him. As you would swim in his oversized coat, you remember feeling lucky to receive a dismissive glance your way and monotone orders to return the clothes back where you found them. You rush out to your car before you can dwell on that train of thought.

If your other patients noticed your sudden change in style that day, no one mentioned it. You had previously taken pride in the level of professionalism you were able to maintain, but in the grand scheme of things, looking frumpy for one day of work could hardly be deemed the worst thing you have done.

As 4 PM rolled around you were still in the process of convincing yourself that you were ready to confront this head on by not confronting it and acting as though nothing ever happened. You can do this- you have to do this- you told yourself.

4:15 PM, you were ready for the knock on the door that would not come that night.

4:30 PM, you were still waiting in a rigid state with your pen and notebook clenched in your hands, full attention at the wooden door, like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. You shudder at the comparison.

4:45 PM, you were justifying his tardiness with his upcoming concert, and even with your barebones knowledge of performing, you realize that these types of things are planned weeks, even months in advance. And so you wait.

5 PM and you’re already mentally packing up to go back to your apartment. You know that all of your things are sitting at your desk but you wanted to spend as little time looking at it as possible. These past few days, you had the irrational fear that even so much as looking at where your indiscretion happened would tip off everybody. You disregard that reflexive response that makes you clench your thighs together when you look in its direction.

5:15 PM you can no longer ignore the stiffness in your back but you're doing your best to disregard the feeling of rejection that has settled in the pit of your stomach. Because this seems to be the place where you make your worst decisions, you decide to pull out that damned bottle of wine. You see the teeth marks on the cork, and you push down the part of you that blushes at the thought of putting your mouth where his was.

It is in that moment with the stopper wrenched free and you thinking about a man you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about, does the shrill tone of your office phone ring. It’s embarrassing really how quickly your hand shoots to answer it, moreso when you answer with a mouthful of cork.

“Hww-” you quickly spit it out. “Hello this is Dr. Y/L/N.”

It is little comfort when you recognize the voice.

“Baby I’m so sorry that I missed tonight, but I coulda swore I told one a my boys to let ya’ know I wouldn’t make it.” he said apologetically. “We got rehearsal’s all this week for Saturday and my minds been all over the damn place.”

Baby, you thought as you took a quick gulp of wine. Early on, he had slipped and called you tha, maybe a month or two into his treatment. You, as gently as you could, informed him how you would appreciate it if he wouldn’t refer to you as such. He reassured you that he meant nothing by it as he apparently calls everyone that from time to time. You accepted that answer and didn’t say anything the few times he would say it later on.

Looking at the bottle in your hand, you had spent the last few days blaming it for being your first misstep in your career, but retrospect is funny like that and you’re now realizing it was one in a series of many over the last year. With him continually elbowing his way back into your life, you doubt it will be your last.

“That’s alright Mr. Presley, just please don’t let this happen again in the future.” is your response, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you for your next session on Monday.”

“Speakin’ a that. I was hoping we could reschedule today for Saturday,” he said before you could lift the receiver from your ear.

“Mr Presley, I don’t work on Saturday’s,” you half-heartedly protested.

“Then you’re free,” he quickly countered. “Doc, it’s just that… I’mma need some help gettin’ my head straight before the show, cause it’s been over a year since I done this, and even longer since I done a show sober.”

You immediately clock what he’s trying to do, and for all the ill-advised actions you’ve taken in the last week, you didn’t get your license out of a cracker jack box. “Elvis, that is in no way appropri-”

“Well it’s the show,” he quickly cuts you off. There is a dark edge to his tone as he continues. “And what happened on Monday. I think I really need to talk to someone ��bout it.”

It doesn’t have to be you, goes unsaid.

He’s got you there and you know it, and currently you’re in no state of mind to try to find a way around this. So rather than doing anything semi-responsible and enforcing the boundary you have set, you down most of what’s left of the bottle and agree.

“Darlin’ that’s perfect. If there’s one thing I can promise, it's a helluva show” You can almost feel the self-satisfied grin over the phone. “I also been thinkin’ ‘bout what you said with not lettin’ people know that you’re my therapist, and you’re right.”

The neck of the bottle is clenched so tightly in your fist, you’re concerned it may shatter at this point. That earlier feeling of rejection being quickly replaced with dread.

“So I think I best I send you a lil’ somethin’ to wear for the show, I want them knowin’ you’re my girl, not my shrink, and you don’t exactly dress the part Doll.” he says this with such a cool authority that leaves no room for argument.

You stared off into space with this offer. You’re idly reminded of months ago when you had him practice an exercise in control. He did, you observed, have an excessive need for control in almost every aspect of his life, but this mindset also held the detrimental effect that everything that went wrong was also his fault due to the control he felt. So you came up with this exercise so you could both figure out where it is reasonable to be in control, and in which places he could relinquish it a bit. One aspect he mentioned that he often controlled was the way his girlfriends dressed, which you will admit made you do a double take. The only thing you commented on that detail was that so long as both parties were consenting he was truly not in control of the entire situation.

Doll indeed, you think bitterly. Did he take it as a challenge? Whatever the case may be, one thing becomes evident. You have no doubt what his intentions are anymore, no overwhelming emotions clouding his judgment, nor any post-orgasmic high having him say things he doesn’t mean.

As you look at the near empty bottle of wine while you sit in the room where your career has lived and will inevitably die, you can hardly say the same thing about yourself.

Mark had insisted you keep it that night months ago, and after realizing that there was no way of returning it to Elvis without bringing up the incident again, you kept it in your office for the sole reason that it felt wrong to keep it in your apartment. Too Intimate, you had thought. You begin to wonder how your life would have been had you told Mark why you wished to refuse the wine. Maybe you would have been strong enough to put your foot down and keep this relationship professional… or maybe he would have taken the same approach you took, and let it slide under the guise of Elvis not knowing any better at the time. Elvis seemed to have that effect on people, of wanting to justify his actions in spite of it everything.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way he sounded when exhausted, or just maybe it was looking into Pandora's proverbial drawer and finally finding those lost panties with the evidence of your attraction to him stained into the fabric. Whatever it was you found yourself finishing off the bottle and agreeing to his requests - demands really- and drunkenly trying your best to rationalize to yourself why you shouldn’t burn your license to ash at this very moment.

The next day rolls around and you return to your normal wardrobe. Though that morning you can’t help but take an extra long look at it as though the promised new addition will change it fundamentally. You chalk that thought up to you still being hungover. As the day continues, you try your best to be more attentive to your patients that day, because even if you failed to do so once, these people deserve a space free from your own personal issues.

You’re not surprised to be met with a package at your doorstep, though the colored box and large bow it arrives in are a bit much for what you assumed to be a single dress. What you’re met with inside is in fact a full outfit complete with even the undergarments you assume you’re expected to wear. The style itself so far from your typical business professional taste, it circles into the territory of a disguise. You even have to admit that there is an air of brilliance to it, since you doubt even you would be able to recognize yourself in this outfit.

Though in that regard, you already have a lot of trouble doing so lately.

Your tentative plan as of right now is to attend the concert and take part in this impromptu therapy session, and you will discuss with him what happened and explain why it is in fact critical to his mental well-being that this affair goes no further. You begrudgingly admit that come Monday, you will have to start from square one with him, but this is the only path forward you can see anymore.

That Saturday morning is devoted to running in and out of grocery stores, trying to gather as many tabloids featuring Elvis as possible, if you’re going to -temporarily- play the part he wants you to play, you will have to look like it. The rest of the day is devoted to primping and preening to get said right look. This brings back memories from undergrad, you and a friend preparing for a double date and Priscilla, along with various other celebrity faces, taped to the mirror for inspiration. Specifically you remember after being able to achieve her dramatic cat eye, your friend joking that if this college thing didn’t work out for you, you could put in an application for being Elvis’ next girl. You laughed at how preposterous that idea was at the time.

Your thoughts of the past are quickly interrupted by rapid knocking at your front door, and you quickly put the finishing touches on your makeup and throw on the ensemble. At the door you’re met with a familiar blonde whose apparent agitation swiftly surpasses whatever momentary discomfort he clearly feels at encountering you once again. Though in that moment you’re at least grateful Elvis had the good sense to not involve anyone else in this matter (that and the fact he didn’t send a limo).

Getting into the car you’re praying for a long and silent trip to the show. Jerry not reading the room says to you “Sorry for rushing you out the door back there, um…” he says. “It’s just been a bit of a crazy week, and the Boss is just wigging out about every single detail.”

“I understand” you attempt to placate, wishing for this exchange to end as soon as possible. “You have a job to do.”

“By the looks of it, so do you,” he says in an attempt to joke, though he quickly cuts himself off after seeing you tense up. He quickly apologizes and as you turn to look out the window, you hear what sounds like a flask being opened and Jerry downing a good portion of it.

You resist the urge to demand a shot of whatever he’s drinking because, as poorly timed as that joke was, you are on the clock. And for as unprofessional as you have been lately, you don’t think you’ve quite gotten to the level of drinking right before a session. Because that’s what this is: an emergency/supplemental session that will precede a momentous occasion for your patient, and out of respect for his privacy, you are in disguise so that no one will know he’s even seeing a therapist. You’re hoping the more you tell yourself that the less ridiculous it will sound.

And due to the fact you're on the job you reason, it may be best to get an idea of his state before going in. “How has he been today? I’m sure the stress of the event is getting to him,” you ask.

“Yeah, uhh… he’s been in a bit of a mood all day,” he says carefully.

“Meaning?”

“He’s basically been sayin’ that he wouldn’t perform until he saw you,” he says, looking anywhere but at you.

And there it is, you think. You give a simple nod in acknowledgement to Jerry, as he is all too happy to let this conversation peter out. You now recognize what Elvis is attempting and using Jerry as a proxy for. Despite all your training that tells you that you’re not responsible for any actions your patients take, you feel yourself start to shoulder the burden of getting him to perform tonight. Not only that but it seems you also bear the responsibility of putting him in the right headspace to perform well tonight.

The rest of the ride to the show itself is quiet, which you’re grateful for, as it gives you time to steel yourself. Jerry as well seems to ease into a more relaxed demeanor the way one would when doing something that has become routine. It seems he’s no stranger to ferrying women to the King of Rock and Roll.

Regardless of the slight pang of sorrow you feel momentarily at that observation, you try to see the upside to it. That this… thing with Elvis, your patient you have to remind yourself, will be short-lived.

Arriving at the venue, you are immediately led backstage, and you’re not sure you can write off the feeling that everyone was watching you to paranoia on your part. Whatever it was, you surmised, there were more than a few people beyond Elvis expecting your arrival. As you were ushered to his dressing room, you felt equal parts dread and anticipation as to what would be on the other side.

What you weren’t expecting was your office. Though that may be a stretch, you can’t seem to find the logic in a dressing room having two chairs facing each other with a small table between them complete with a box of tissues right on top. The entire arrangement takes up an inordinate amount of space in an already cramped room, and you can’t help but conclude that it is intentional.

You find the man of the hour in an open robe (sans shirt, though thankfully with pants on) sitting cross legged on the sofa in what you recognize to be a meditative position. You wouldn’t say he is quite disheveled, but every time you’ve seen him, he’s looked nothing less than immaculate. So finding him in this state with his hair undone and no ostentatious clothing is slightly jarring. Upon hearing the door open he cracks open one eye, and seeing you his face breaks into that handsome grin you’ve become far too familiar with. “Y/N, baby you’re here.” he says feigning surprise.

Not even acknowledging what he just said, you make your way into the room and Jerry, clearly just as disturbed by the setup, closes the door behind you. You glance at the clock on the wall showing that you had a little over 2 hours until the concert was set to start, just enough time for a full session and then some for him to get ready for the show. There is no way this was not meticulously planned, you conclude.

You sit down placing your bag on the floor, as he takes his time to stretch out for a bit before he strolls his way to sit astride the chair across from you. There with an amused look on his face, he says nothing apparently wanting you to start.

Considering there is no protocol as to how to conduct a session in this highly specific situation, and not wanting to immediately open with the elephant in the room, you decide to begin with just idle chit chat. “So… um, I didn't know you practiced meditation.”

“Yeah, it was somethin’ I picked up in San Diego,” he says off-handedly.

“I’m glad that it works for you,” you say as neutrally as possible.

“Oh, it don’t,'' he clarifies. “It works in gettin’ everyone to leave me the fuck alone for awhile. But not in the other ways it’s supposed to.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as he continues. “I got into yoga when I was down there too.”

“Do you find that works better for you?”

“Yeah,” he verifies. “When I feel somethin’ real bad, I gotta move. It don’t matter how.” This makes sense as he's a very physical person. You are aware of his love for Karate, and you briefly consider recommending he pick up Tai Chi as a happy medium between meditation and martial arts to help him in achieving mindfulness. Your thoughts are interrupted as he continues. “Too bad I ain’t been able to practice in a while.”

“And why is that?” you softly probe.

“I been needin” a partner,” he said with a sly grin, very much an offer.

There’s your opening, you think to yourself. This is the moment you can make a bid to reinforce some level of boundaries between the two of you. Where you can tell him that Monday was a mistake and should never happen again. That this infatuation with you is in fact detrimental to his mental well-being and will destroy your career. And most importantly that there is no future between the two of you.

“Elvis, please” you say, exhaling in frustration. “About what happened on Monday… I think it would be best if we-”

“Well,” he chimes in, “I think it best we save that talk for another time,” his severe delivery leaving no room for argument. Fear grips your throat as he continues in a notably softer tone, “Everything out there is ready for me to play, but up here,” he says, putting two fingers to his temple. “I don’t know ‘bout. Darlin’ I need your help right now, because I can’t do this without you”

Almost everything within you says to push forward no matter what, and tell him right here and now. The one thing that stops you is knowing for a fact he will be devastated with what you have to say. And then what? You leave and he’s unable to perform, leaving hundreds devastated. And come Monday will he even show up, or will he make the call and have you immediately reported for your part in this whole ordeal. Not to mention the long-term variables of if he will even want to continue therapy should you fail to get him ready tonight.

You sigh in defeat, as it appears you have no choice but to concede on this matter and focus on the immediate task at hand. “So you mentioned over the phone that your head’s been all over the place this week. Tell me, is this how you normally feel in the days leading up to a performance?”

He looks pleased with your question and answers “Not in the last few years no. I mean, first time in Vegas it was a little like this, but after a while that all became routine.”

He leans his chair back and reaches behind him to the vanity table to reach for a glass of water. This angle puts his full chest on display and you can’t help but rake your eyes over the hair there and follow the trail of it down to his-

Focus, you think to yourself.

He offers you a glass, and in spite of how dry your mouth feels at the moment, you are trying to no longer accept anything from him at this point regardless of how small, so you refuse. “Tell ya’ what though,” he says, taking a sip. “I ain’t feel this nervous since my early days of performin’ and I would shake somethin’ fierce on stage,” he laughs a little at this statement. “That’s actually parta where all my dancin’ came from.”

“I see.”

It’s unsettling how you could almost mistake the rest of your time together as a typical session with him. The only cosmetic differences being the harsh lighting from the vanity behind him and the uncomfortable feeling from the leather chair sticking to the back of your thighs. You’re also at a bit of a loss as to what to do with your hands without anything to take notes in, and the outfit has you feeling particularly vulnerable. As for his part you doubt you’ve ever seen him this relaxed in your presence before; leaning back with his legs spread and his robe exposing a mouth-watering amount of his torso. If you had to guess, it may have something to do with you being in his territory so to speak, as opposed to the typical setting of your office. Or maybe he’s just into your humiliation.

Aside from those factors, you would have even labeled today as a successful session… that is until the conversation takes a turn.

“I’ve done what feels like a thousand shows, most of them without all that crap Nic was pumping me with, but it feels like… I don’t know. Like that was some other guy that was performin’ and that he ain’t here tonight.”

“This ‘other guy’ has he always been a part of the way you perform?”

“I ain’t feel like myself on stage in a long time.” he said morosely.

“Elvis, I want you to try to recall a concert where you did feel like your true self. It doesn’t have to be the last time you felt this way, just the most memorable.” You replied leaning forward.

The half smirk that creeps on to his face makes you regret that question though. “Actually the show that comes to mind is the comeback special. You seen it before?” he asked.

Yes. “...No, I-I believe I missed that one,” you manage to stutter out.

He grins knowingly, “Well they had me in front of an audience, maybe less than a hundred people and had me dressed all in leather with only a small square for a stage. In spite all that I felt free especially since Parker had almost nothin’ to do with it,” he said wistfully. “He chewed me out later for it, sayin’ shit like how it was no real audience and that they were told when to clap. But I knew…”

His hungry gaze meets yours and you feel a kin to prey about to be devoured. “You wanna know how I knew?” he said.

In spite of your gut instinct that you are delving into dangerous territory with this conversation, you’re far too curious at this point. So you try to swallow that uneasy feeling and reply in the affirmative.

“I came in my pants,” he says, taking a sip of his water, as neutral and matter of fact as if he were just telling you what he ate for dinner last night.

“Wh-what?” you said, for the first time in your career, truly at a loss for words.

Sex certainly wasn’t a taboo subject to discuss with your patients, and it wasn’t even the first time you discussed it with Elvis himself. But those conversations typically surrounded your patient's fears of intimacy with a new partner, and even though that wasn’t a concern for Elvis, he did make reference to it when discussing his need to please others. Most importantly though when discussing sex with a patient, you’ve never actually had the experience with them.

“It was the weirdest thing, Doc. Never happened before, hasn’t happened since,” he said, at complete ease with himself. “Sure a few close calls here and there, but it never got to that point. Hell, it mighta been the suit itself that did it for me. What ya’ think it means doll?”

And what can you say to that really? You try to even out your shallow breathing as your mind races through the possible implications of this reaction. You have certainly never met another performer before so you’re unsure whether this is even unusual to those in his line of work, but at the same time most people who do what they love for a living also aren’t sexually aroused by it, let alone reach climax through it alone. Previously you would have labeled yourself as firmly within that category, but that damp feel beneath your dress proves otherwise.

Across from you, he waits patiently for your reply, but he is also openly delighted by your squirming state.

“I-” you clear your throat. “Um… Sex is a perfectly natural thing.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiles rakishly.

“Yes I…” you say, briefly losing your train of thought. “A way of interpreting the… arousal you feel on stage is that being there and performing in front of an audience comes just as naturally to you. As for what happened at your special, it may have been the moment you felt most acutely aware of your desire to be on stage.”

He nods his head and you continue. “You’ve mentioned previously how you were unsatisfied by your movie career by that point in time. So the return to the stage may have also acted as a cathartic release of all these pent up frustrations you were feeling up until that moment.”

He raises an eyebrow at that in the way he typically does when he’s confused by your wording. “Basically you were feeling unhappy for a long period of time, so when you felt the joy of being back on stage, you’re…” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed. “Body, as a result misinterpreted that joy as arousal. And adding to that, Parker’s disapproval as well as the feeling of being free that you described. It all culminated into that… reaction.”

He sits on your presumption for a moment, before chuckling a bit. “I see where you’re comin’ from on that doc. Though I gotta ask.”

You pause, apprehensive to what he may ask. “Ask what?”

“What are my chances for a repeat performance tonight?” he asks in a way you could almost mistake as innocent. As you feel close to hyperventilating, he continues. “I mean those things you brought up from the special are here tonight sooo…” he quirks an eyebrow, putting it on you to continue.

“...well… um” you draw out, truly dumbfounded and without any words to respond to that. You’re only saved from this conversation by hurried knocking at the door behind you.

“Well, looks like we’re outta time here doc,” he said standing up, prompting you to stand up as well. With a hand on your lower back guiding you to the door, you don’t miss the fact he’s effectively dismissing you. “Baby, thank ya’ for comin’ down here tonight and settin’ me right. And I just want you knowin’ that this whole show is because of you. I don’t think I woulda made it this far without my girl” he said looking down at you and bringing you close while his other hand was on the doorknob.

Your primary focus is trying your best to collect yourself before you need to go out there, but you’re so astonished by how he just so casually slipped in “my girl” into there. You know then you have to say something.

“But… I’m not your gir-” you quickly cut yourself off as you see his jaw clench, the previous look of satisfaction on a dime replaced with one of intense indignation at your denial. Before you can even begin to feel regret for your refusal, his expression just as rapidly shifts to one of downright mischief.

Not wanting to find out what that look meant, you attempt to turn towards the door, only to be halted by an iron-like grip on your jaw. “Not my girl, huh?” he says, forcing you to look at him, as he brings his face closer to yours. He then whispers, his lips just barely brushing yours, “tell that to them.”

You can’t say you weren’t expecting him to bring his lips closer to yours, but you can say you weren’t expecting to be such a willing participant this time around. You can tell yourself all you want that you did it to save him from the embarrassment of being walked in on with a less than willing woman, but it seems, deep down, the both of you knew better. So you played your part as you grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck as your lips came together, and he was all too willing to believe in your role as his hand snaked down your back. You’ll never fully know (or at least admit) who closed the distance that night.

All you really know is that being in here with him as he was now, was nothing short of intoxicating, in a way it had never felt in your office. You were not one to participate in drugs, but as his tongue slips past your lips to wrap around your own, you truly believe you could become addicted to this. His scent, his taste, his touch, all of it threatened to consume you whole and never let you go.

He was so all consuming in fact, you barely registered the sound of the door opening beside you, but you definitely don’t miss what feels like a dozen sets of eyes in full view of the both of you. You’re aware that you should in fact be more embarrassed of your compromising position with your arms thrown around his neck and his hand firmly on your ass. But with all the shame you’ve been feeling this past week, this hardly registers as the worst. Though you do feel a spark of it when he pulls away, and you let out a small whine from being denied his plush lips, until you feel them near the shell of your ear.

His breathy demand for another session after the show is hard to deny in your state, and more so when you see the color of your lipstick haphazardly smeared across his downright sinful smirk. It goes without saying what that will entail, but you surprise even yourself by not immediately running for the hills. Instead you, with all the grace of a newborn fawn, stumble past a line of people rearing to get in and do their job. This venture, not at all aided by the playful swat he gives your behind. The “knowing” looks on some of their faces tells you what they are all assuming. Part of you wishes they were right, because doing that would somehow have been less shameful than what actually happened.

After that “session” you try to compose yourself as best as you can, and make your way to the ladies room. Alone in the restroom you see your face in the mirror and to your relief aside from the smudged lipstick, you look relatively fine. You reach for your bag to touch it up, only to realize that you forgot to grab it when he was leading you to the door. As you shudder at the thought of going back to retrieve it, you finally realize how much of a sopping mess you’ve made of your underwear.

Insanity is truly your only defense for your next course of action, as you quickly remove your panties and dispose of them.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you end up wandering around backstage with a new resolve to not think about him. You still have roughly another hour to kill before the show is set to start, so unsure what to do with yourself until that time, you attempt to strike up conversations with your fellow VIPs. Your attempt at keeping your mind off of him proves fruitless though, as it becomes apparent that word travels fast behind the curtains, and their interest in you begins and ends with Elvis. You’re flooded with questions as to what he’s going to wear tonight, what he’s going to sing, if there will be an afterparty at Graceland and subsequent requests for you to try to get them invited. The only time any questions are directed at you, it’s simply polite inquiry as to where you met him and how long you’ve known him, and you try to be as vague and non-descript as possible.

One woman remarks how she thinks she saw you in a magazine last week along with “the big man himself.”

“Guilty,” you reply with a nervous laugh, because you truly are. How would you even begin to try to explain the truth?

You are able to meet most of the members of the so-called “Memphis Mafia,” and get the rundown as to who does what in the group after asking in an effort to get a basic conversation going. It doesn’t go unnoticed that none of them ask what you do for a living, only mildly interested in the fact you’re the new girl, as though being Elvis’ “girl” is supposed to occupy the totality of your existence. Usually you would take offense to this, but under these circumstances, you know the fewer in the know, the better.

You don’t think you’ve ever truly considered the world he lives in until this moment. A world in which he’s surrounded on all sides by women that want him, and by men that admire and/or envy him. What does that do to a mind when everybody he meets falls into one of those two categories? How would one handle someone who doesn’t fit into either category?

Eventually though Jerry finds you and brings you to your seat, front row and center, because of course Elvis would. You know from his stories about his Vegas residency that he would often kiss women in the front row, and you already have a feeling as to how this is going to play out. As Jerry leaves, you contemplate making a break for it at this point, but without your purse, that idea is quickly tossed out.

You look around your area and breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that all are virtually unrecognizable. You know from the tabloids that this concert was deemed one for the ages already, being essentially his second comeback and with rumors flying around that there would be more than a few international attendants this fact is not all too surprising. There’s a small swelling of pride within you knowing that he is so loved worldwide that you quickly try to stamp down.

As the curtain goes up and the music starts to blare, you make the conscious decision that at this moment you are not his therapist, and that you are merely a fan. That you will be without worries at the state of your career right now, without fear that the APA is breathing down your neck, and definitely without any guilt to the sexual attraction you feel for him at this moment. Afterall you’re a fan, isn’t that just par for the course?

So as he steps on stage and immediately makes eye contact with you, you play your part. You get lost in it even, as you dance and sing and make a fool of yourself. He’s just… incredible doesn’t even begin to describe what he is as you’ve never seen someone move like he does, never felt music as you did in this moment. There’s not a single inch of the stage that’s not occupied by his presence as he’s able to keep the crowd fully enraptured for music they’ve undoubtedly heard hundreds of times before. His command over everything truly brings a new perspective to his King epithet.

Despite your best efforts you cannot help but think of the comeback special incident and in the brief moments between songs you can’t help but observe and this makes you feel all the more like a voyeur. In spite of the fact that there’s a couple hundred people watching the same show you are, they aren’t cursed with what you know. Unintentionally you read into every gyration, every hip thrust, even every time he throws his head back looking for any indication. You had thought about what he looks like in the throes of ecstasy an inordinate amount of times already this week, so you even compare every face he makes up there as well.

Eventually, after two demands for an encore, Elvis merely has to put a finger to his lips to command the rowdy crowd down. “Now before I go,” he pauses with a slight quirk in his lips as he hears their protests, but continues with “I’m gonna leave y’all with somethin’ new.” This statement is met with uproarious applause as he gestures to the band behind him and begins.

Want me to love you in moderation?

Do I look moderate to you?

Not even two lyrics in, you know you’re in trouble. Previously he had the decency to not single you out as he worked the entire crowd in front of him, but as he sings you know exactly who he’s directing this song to.

And are you any better? Like the other women in the front row you move to the stage, as you're overpowered with the urgent need to be as close to him as possible. You’re overwhelmed with just about everything at this point: the audience, the song, him, and all your conflicting emotions this past week all reach a crescendo as he kneels on the stage before you. You’re crowded by his fans all reaching out to touch him as though he were some divine being. But you knew better.

Girl, you better learn

Can’t hold it in,

And girl you better learn

I just can’t win

Cause I don’t see the worth

I don’t see the worst

He is something monstrous, demonic almost. Elvis is a siren-like creature who is leading you to your doom. As he leans down closer to you, you stand on your toes, willing your knees to not give in at a time like this. The women around you flock even closer, all trying to get a piece of him, while he puts a hand underneath your chin, his eyes challenging you to stop him. He may very well be a siren but you’re his victim who is all too happy to drown at this point.

And I’m still tryna figure out if it

Always

Has to hurt

Unlike the last few times, you were very much prepared for this kiss. At least you were, until he proceeded to lean away from you and plant the kiss on the woman directly next to you. Time slows at this moment, truly forcing you to take in every single detail of what is happening not even a foot away from your face. He kisses her with all the filth and passion you were craving in that moment, and she just as enthusiastically kisses him back.

His face is glistening with sweat from his performance that runs down onto her, but this woman doesn’t seem to mind. She will leave this concert and forever be able to have an interesting anecdote to tell at every party she will ever attend. This will be her one crazy story to tell about Elvis Presley, and the more logical side of you truly envies that about her.

Finally, after what was perhaps only seconds but felt like an eternity, he breaks away from the kiss, though that doesn’t ease the heavy stone that has settled in your stomach. You want to cry, you want to scream, and judging from the state of the women around you, you wouldn’t be at all out of place. You’re upset that you’re in this position, you’re devastated over the fact that this is the man who holds your career in the palm of his hand, and most of all, you’re heartbroken that you even wanted him to kiss you at that moment.

Did he not see you? Did he mistake her for you? Shouldn’t you be glad about this new development? That hundreds of people weren’t witness to you flagrantly breaking every rule and ethical responsibility you made upon becoming a therapist?

He answers all these questions with the single look he gives you as he stands before you, his lips now stained red from that random woman.

You want looove

You feel a tug at your elbow as Jerry once more guides you backstage. Elvis for his part shamelessly watches you walk away all the while belting out those final lyrics of his song. As the lights from the stage blink out, and the crowd proceeds to explode in near-deafening screams and hollers, and you see him bow out as the curtain drops. You try to make yourself numb to it all as you make your way through the bustling corridors, but in reality you can’t ignore your heartbeat thundering through you, nor the uncomfortably slick feeling between your thighs.

You have to get out of there and you know it. But you also want to stay and there’s no denying that. You have accepted that he has an unhealthy attachment towards you, and you naively thought you could work to dismantle it over the next few months to get him back on track. But seeing him kiss that other woman made you realize that this attachment threatens to be mutual, and that is truly where it will derail.

Before you can figure out what you’re going to do, you’re back in front of his dressing room door and you walk in not even having bothered to knock. You find him along with several members of his crew already in there but upon seeing you he grins and a simple wave of his hand has them all scurrying out, leaving the two of you alone. He stays seated at the vanity, too comfortable apparently, with his feet propped up, the upper half of his suit peeled off of him, and a towel around his neck. He doesn’t even bother to fully turn around to look at you directly, he simply watches you through the mirror.

“You enjoy the show Darlin’?” he says, lightly dabbing himself with the towel. “It sure as hell looked like you did out there.”

Despite knowing he saw how you behaved, you still try to lie with an indifferent, “You did good up there.”

“Ahh, baby” he draws out in a light teasing tone. “Don’t be like that. Why don’t you come over here and tell daddy what’s wrong?” Your breath hitches at his casual use of that word and you find your feet making the decision for you. You make your way over to him and you finally find your purse on top of the vanity. You go to grab it but in one fluid motion he grabs your hand and you find yourself on his lap. As he leans forward for a kiss, you see the red that still paints his lips and without even thinking you use the towel to wipe some of it off.

He makes a pleased hum at that, believing that this is what has you acting this way.

Is it not though? You think sarcastically. After rubbing off most of the color you drop the towel letting it fall back into place on his chest. He takes your hand into his, and your heart does an embarrassing little skip as he gives it a sweet kiss.

“Baby, I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said, adopting a chivalrous affect. “If my bestest girl don’t like me kissin’ others, all she’s gotta do is say so. Then I ain’t never gonna do it again.” His eyes pleading as he waits for your answer.

So that’s what his plan was, you think bitterly. You’re resentful over the fact that it worked at all. But he doesn’t need to know that.

You rip your hand away from him as you reply with as much resolve as you can gather, “You can do whatever you want Elvis,” before mulishly looking away. He evidently didn’t like that answer, as he stood up to prop you onto the vanity and placed himself between your legs. You try to escape his grasp only for him to place his hands at the top of your thighs, effectively pinning you in place.

“I can do whatever I want?” he says in a low, challenging voice, looking you directly in your eyes. It is only then do you regret your wording. Were you not so petrified, you would have admired his ability to quickly turn your own dismissive words into seemingly an invitation. There is no denying the trembling force in your body at this point and with the way he’s holding it is only inevitable that he will find your secret. And as though reading your mind, you feel his thumb brushing your inner thigh, and he finally notices the slick feeling in between. If you're going to be honest with yourself, you think you’re even more wet than when you walked in.

He makes an approving hum as he flips your skirt up, and you get the momentary pleasure of seeing his eyes widen at your lack of underwear. That is until he quickly bunches up the material past your hips and you feel mortified at being naked from the waist down in a room you don’t remember locking. You’re even more mortified as he kneels down and begins to pepper your inner thighs with light kisses. You instinctively try to close your legs, but his grip makes it impossible, and he notices your effort.

“Ahh, sweetness none of that,” he drawls out, emphasizing his point with a small nibble at the sensitive flesh that has you cursing. You feel his hot breath waft over you and as you’re trying to wrap your head around what’s happening, he teasingly licks a stripe up your slit, giving you a taste of what he has to offer. You gasp for air as though you’re about to drown.

“I can do what I want, can I?” he asks knowing you’re far too preoccupied to answer. “Well I want this,” he purrs, emphasizing his point with a soft kiss to your clit, which you meet with a strangled moan. He chuckles at your reaction before resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. “But I gotta know what my girl wants,” he trails off.

Your muddled mind cannot even begin to process the question itself before he follows up with. “What’d ya’ say mama? Do you wanna be my girl?” he says looking up at you with those piercing blue eyes of his, and you know there is not even a choice anymore. You’re so far gone at this point, you hardly hesitate in saying yes. “No, no mama. I wanna hear you say it.”

You can already feel a few shameful tears trailing down as you cover your face with your hands, as though that will absolve you of your next words. “Yes… I want to be your girl,” you cry out desperately, and he dives straight in.

All of your composure is tossed out the window the moment you feel his mouth on your needy cunt, you moan and shout freely, no thoughts given to the people undoubtedly outside of the door. He’s going at an unhurried languid pace, exploring your nether regions, seemingly trying to learn what gets the biggest reaction out of you. He’s apparently indifferent to how desperately you need to cum. You grab at his hair and try to bring him closer, desperate for some control of this situation but the noticeable tightening of his grip on your legs make it clear that he’s going to take all the time he wants.

You’re there for what feels like hours before you’re at the point of begging him to let you cum. The King finally takes mercy on you as he stuffs his fingers into you while simultaneously nursing at your clit as you are finally allowed your release.

You’re a mess after that devastating orgasm, and as he brings himself back up to you, you don’t put up a fight to this kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, and the smallest, pettiest part of you feels victorious over that woman whose name you will never get to learn. Before you can dwell on that part of yourself, he spins you around so you’re facing away from him. Despite all of that you still feel yourself wanting for more, and as you look over your shoulder at him, you know he is very aware of that.

“Were you watching mama?” he said, pressing kisses to your neck as he undoes his belt. “Were you sittin’ there, wonderin’ if I did it again, and that’s how you got this wet?” You let out a small keen as you feel his cock just barely brushing at your entrance, and he presses a hand on your back, prompting you to bend over the vanity fully. You give a slight shriek as you feel a sharp swat on your ass. “Answer me,” he growls out, sending another shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you say, pushing yourself backwards to him.

Another swat on the other side, “Yes what?” he rasps.

“Yes daddy,” you nearly cry out and you bury your head into your arms in shame as he drives into you. Once slotted fully inside, he pauses giving you time to adjust to him. The stretch of him burns only slightly this time around, though mostly you feel satisfaction as he feels achingly familiar.

“You don’t gotta worry mama,” he pants next to your ear. “I saved it all for you,” he says as he slowly begins to push his hips back and forth into you. You find yourself just as eager as you push backwards to keep him within. You close your eyes to the sensations, as this feels like the closest you’ve come to a reprieve in this whirlwind of a week he’s caused. You want to lose yourself here, and for once want to believe as he does that this is any way healthy or sustainable for the both of you. This delusion has the ability to ruin you, but for the moment you truly just want to indulge yourself in it.

Reality will always win out though. At some point he thrusts so hard, your feet no longer meet the ground, and you have to brace yourself on the mirror. Here in this position you’re truly forced to look at yourself for seemingly the first time as you truly are. You see your eyes bloodshot and pupils blown, your mascara trailing down your face, and, mortifyingly, you're drooling from the pleasure at not only what he’s doing to you but the sight you're met with in the mirror. You also see him behind you, looking more animal than man with the way he forces your hips to meet his pace and the snarl that mars his face. It’s all too much for you to handle. The only way to describe how hard you came in that moment would be violently, as you convulse and sob terribly at all the shame and pleasure you’re experiencing in that moment.

You feel him pull out, and moments later you hear a shuddering howl as he paints your lower back with his cum, effectively marking you as his. You sob even harder with the realization you had not even been thinking about protection in the last week, and now you fear that there will be another cord that will forever tie you to him.

If he sees your tears he ignores them and places a kiss on your cheek before sitting you down in front of the mirror. He lets you know that he has a press conference soon, but that he will meet you back home for the afterparty. He quickly dresses himself while you use a tissue to fix your makeup and try to make the wrinkles in your dress less noticeable. Once outside the door he hands you off to one of his men with orders to take you back to Graceland.

It is only as you’re pulling up to Graceland do you realize you gave no resistance whatsoever to his whims and didn’t even try to insist you go back to your own apartment. You pay no thought to that as you see there are already many of his people there to celebrate his astonishing performance, and the last thing you need is to draw more attention to yourself by being the one woman having a breakdown at the party.

So you slip back into your role as his girl, though can you even say that it is simply a role anymore when you fully agreed to it.

Eventually he arrives home and is met with all the praise and glory he has earned tonight. Yet he barely looks at anyone before he seemingly sweeps the room to zero in on you. He grins and approaches you to sweep you into a hungry kiss which is met with various wolf whistles and cheers from those around you. You are still playing your part for the audience you tell yourself.

The rest of the night is spent on his arm essentially advertising to all attendants that you're his. Eventually he announces to no one in particular that he is starting to feel tired, and it feels like only moments later when a mass exodus occurs, no one daring to stay past their welcome. The grip he has on your waist though tells you that he has no plans of letting you go.

That night and the following day in Graceland you spend in a daze of fucking and resting and even more fucking, interspersed with conversation between the both of you. Surprisingly you find yourself opening up to him as well, and with the conversations being not so focused on him, it’s easy to pretend that this is even remotely natural.

You do make a few attempts to leave that day, each time met with some pushback on his part to get you to stay. Each attempt is met with some excuse on his part be it being too early, his fans outside the gates, his exhausted state etc., and immediately following your concession, you are bombarded with physical affection and compliments as to how understanding and what a good you are for him. You allow yourself to indulge in this fantasy for a little while longer, and stay another night with him.

The next morning, reality sets back in, and there is no denying your active part in this anymore. He kisses you good morning and he reminds you that you have work today. You’re amazed that he hasn’t already made you cancel all of your appointments today, until you remember who you have your final session with later. You shower and use his toothbrush, no longer hesitating to do something you would previously labeled as far too intimate to do with anyone, let alone a patient.

You are however disturbed but not surprised when you exit the restroom and find a full outfit ready for you. This one is more in line with your regular work attire but the blouse does have a rather loud pattern, a far cry from your admittedly limited, colorwise, wardrobe. Without the tags, you briefly wonder if this is something left behind by the previous stand-ins or if he bought it for one of them to better pretend they were you. You push that thought aside as you finish getting ready for the day. Being early on a Monday morning you are able to be driven to your office without the worry of any ogling eyes. He even gives you a parting kiss at the door and it feels far more domestic than it has any right to be.

You would deem that day almost normal. You are of course exhausted from the strange weekend you had, but somehow you also feel unfettered when compared to the stressful week you had previously. You receive some compliments on your blouse, and you are able to, through tightlips, confirm yes when someone asks if you got it from someone special.

Other than that you are able to get back to your standard attentive self for your patients. Having worked with Elvis for nearing a year at this point, has had the unexpected benefit of making your other patients seem easier in comparison. You laugh at their funny stories, you dole out advice and insights when asked, and you comfort them when needed. These moments in between your nearly all encompassing thoughts around Elvis, you find, are a welcome respite from the looming black cloud that is your future as a therapist.

Eventually though 4:30 PM arrives and you hear a knock at the door.

#my fic #elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #for once #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere #yandere!austin!elvis

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