#i say drawing him with his spine exposed and a large hole in his chest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

argisthebulwark · 2 months ago

Text

You'll Always Get The Best Of Me

summary: testing out some modern au ideas! gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Brynjolf, Farkas warnings: vague allusion to violence in Bryn's, sexually suggestive but not explicit a/n: mafia Bryn 110% inspired by @skyrim-forever <3<3 masterlist

"Is this step absolutely necessary?" Vilkas mutters, the defiant tone of his voice utterly betrayed by the patient way he sits beneath you. Large hands steady your hips when you lean closer, carefully applying the perfect smear of eyeliner over his lid. "Yes." You insist, running a careful thumb along his lash line until it matches his other eye. Your back already aches from being cramped into the tight car but he'd gotten off work late and doors open at 6 so there wasn't time to apply makeup at home. "Finished?" "Nearly." Making a few last minute checks over your own makeup, you clamber off his lap and out of the car. You're a bit taken aback when Vilkas stands at your side, stretching his arms above his head just enough to allow a glimpse of his lower stomach. "You're staring." He comments, adjusting the black shirt to cover his happy trail. He's always been attractive but gods, you had no clue what you were getting yourself into dressing him up for a hardcore concert. Dark jeans show off his muscled legs, chains dangling over an ass usually hidden under thick work pants. One of your favorite band shirts is hardly big enough for his torso and scuffed shoes look far comfier than his hefty boots. When Vilkas offers you his hand, black paint already chipping off nails you'd painted only a few nights before you're eager to grab for it. With his build and a few well placed sidesteps it's fairly easy to get to the barricade. Vilkas' arms rest easily around you when the crowd mills about during opening bands, checking merch or ordering drinks but you're locked in. You've been to enough concerts, you've learned the hard way that getting to the front as soon as possible is your only chance of staying there. He only leaves your side for a few minutes to fetch a drink, easily finding his way back as soon as the line slows down. Vilkas' strong arms steady you against the barricade, bodies swaying and shifting as crowd surfers make their way toward the stage. Somewhere far off you see a hole open in the crowd - a pit's opening up as the main band kicks off their second song but Vilkas keeps it all at bay. His muscled chest rests against your back, deep brown eyes shimmering in the reflective stage lights as he marvels at the musicians. "It's loud." He smirks, lips pressed to your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine when he hugs you close, one arm raised to keep a crowd surfer from landing on her ass. When he kisses you he tastes like cheap beer and sweat. Your heart thrums in time with the frantic drums resonating throughout the shitty venue. Familiar lyrics fall from your tongue until your voice is thrashed, evening sinking into night as band after band appears on stage. Vilkas' strong arms steady you when it's finally time to file out of the venue. Overhead lights reveal smudged eyeliner and flushed cheeks when he draws you close, easing a bit of pressure from your sore feet. His voice is a little too loud when he tells you he loves you, sharp teeth exposed in a rare smile.

"Let's get this over with," Brynjolf sighs, kneeling before the poor sap struggling against his restraints. You're enraptured, watching Brynjolf's rings glimmer in the white light filtering in through cracked blinds as he knots back his messy hair. "Wait - you don't have to do this, I swear I won't say a word." "I'm not an unreasonable man." The smoothness of his voice betrays what you know lies beneath, a rage simmering dangerously close to the surface. "I heard those filthy things you were sayin' to my partner, no point in lyin' now." "I didn't know." The man pants, pleading eyes finding you. As if you have an ounce of mercy to offer him. "Please, you've gotta believe me - I had no clue who you were." "Eyes on me, lad." Brynjolf shifts, one hand lowering to pluck at his sleeves. Your heart catches when he begins to roll up his sleeves, exposing the deliciously scarred skin of his forearms. The man's eyes bug out of his head though you doubt he's having the same response you are. "You came onto my turf, make advances on my partner, and insult my family in the process?" "No -" "What exactly did he say to you, my love?" "'You're hot enough to do better than those sewer rats'." You quote, enjoying the way his face blanches. His lips flop open uselessly, panicked eyes whirling back to Brynjolf. "Sewer rats." Brynjolf sighs, standing to his full height. You know the black outfit is to fit in with the rest of the Guild, one of the many methods he employs to intimidate anyone daring to go up against the powerful group he's cobbled together, but goddamn it makes him look good. Leather straps bearing holsters for his assortment of weapons are strapped tight, creating a beautiful silhouette at his waist. "What an awful thing to say about my family." Brynjolf's voice is velvety soft, dripping with faux melancholy when he draws a dagger from his side. Skilled fingers flip the blade to and fro, allowing you to enjoy this offensive man's fearful eyes as they track it. "I'm not one to get my hands dirty." He sighs, deep green eyes finding you amongst the shadows. "Lovely, do you mind?" Featherlight fingers pressing a blade into your hand and a swift kiss falling to your cheek. Brynjolf's rings are chilly when his hand curves around your waist and draws you into his side. Brynjolf is the face of the Guild - he's the one making deals and handling recruits, so it's easy enough to let everyone think he's the only Guild Master. Most folks don't know about your shared office or the long hours you spend negotiating deals, that you are the one lurking in the shadows while he acts. The public doesn't need to know about you - his partner in crime, his love, his everything.

3 New Messages from: Farkas💕💪 Your phone nearly vibrates off the nightstand. Half awake and scrambling for the device you swipe furiously at the mess of your hair. With blankets twisted around your waist you force your eyes to focus on the too bright screen, trying to decipher his messages.

8:49 - morning, sleepyhead 9:12 - at the gym, be home by 11 9:13 - One image attachment

Before noon and he's already blessing you with gym pics? Without thinking you're opening the picture, scrubbing at your eyes to get a clear look at him. Occasionally you'll go to the gym with Farkas but you'd been stuck at work until past midnight last night cleaning up someone else's mess - there was no way you'd be doing cardio so early. Gods, you could just eat him up. Farkas' grin is barely in frame of the picture he's sent you, shirt tossed over the bench behind him. The familiar scars and tattoos all look too good in the picture, muscles glistening with sweat. One arm is raised in a stereotypical flex and his sweatpants hang dangerously low on those hips you love so much. Just as you're trying to form a response another image comes through. He's shameless - which is perfect since you're hopelessly addicted to seeing him in this state. One hand holds the pretty pink phone case you'd picked out for him and the other combs back his messy hair. His head is angled back just enough to give you a generous view of his throat and chest, sweat shimmering across his stomach where he reclines against the bench.

10:16 - are u tryign to kill me?

You're struggling to type, too busy staring and the godlike images he's sent you. He has to know how hot he is, right? Flopping back into bed you save them to the ever increasing folder of gym pics he's sent over the years, a happy sigh escaping you.

10: 17 - nope💕 10: 17 - wouldn't mind a second workout when i get home, tho

#writing #skyrim #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #brynjolf #farkas #vilkas

54 notes · View notes

dourpeep · 3 years ago

Note

Howdy! Could I request a soft!dom!kazuha x sub!male!reader? I’ve noticed how little content there was for kazuha, especially the male readers. It could be a series of headcannons, a oneshot, Drabble— whatever you feel more comfortable with! :) I suppose thats all I need to complete the request?

And thus, the long awaited reply! My apologies for the long wait, dearest anon, but it's appropriate, in a way, to finish this the day that Kazuha's debuting!

I ended up writing a full-on fic because the woeful lack of Kazuha fics and even bigger lack of Kazuha x amab!Reader. And we can't have that, now can we? So without further ado, I hope you enjoy! :DD

Hold Me Tighter

Summary: A sweet, intimate night spent in the arms of the one you love.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Kazuha x amab!Reader, soft dom!Kazuha, sub!Reader, grinding, frottage, rimming, sweet & romantic

In the moonlight, you’re draped in the soft silence wearing a thin robe, watching the clouds make their journey across the endless dark of the sky.

Up here, standing on the balcony with the view of the city spread out like a million stars, you can breathe.

It’s nice. But not quite as nice as the familiar warmth of the hand that slips within yours and the lips that press so sweetly to your cheek. Kazuha settles behind you, wrapping his arms securely around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Good evening, something on your mind?”

You lean to the kiss, then turning to rub your nose against his. This little home of yours feels warmer when he’s around.

“Not in particular...” Another kiss finds itself on your jaw just below your ear and he hums in satisfaction. “What are you doing, Kazu?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?”

His lips brush down to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him better access. They trail over your pulse and stop at your shoulder. Shifting, Kazuha reaches to gently move your robe to reveal more of your skin.

Then he stops.

The question of why dies on the tip of your tongue when he drapes your robe back in place, instead replaced by curious confusion.

“You should come back inside, this—” He mumbles, tugging at the thin, silky material of your robe. “Will make you catch a cold out here. The air tonight is brisk.”

So you follow him inside the warmth of your home, humoring his worry.

With you in the safety of his arms now, Kazuha hums with a satisfied smile. You lean back to rest against his chest, your hand sliding up to rest on top of one of his.

Breathing in deep, he noses at your hair, mumbling about the subtle smell of your shampoo. He was right, it’s much nicer to relax inside where the cool breeze doesn’t nip at your skin. Instead, the chill is replaced with the gentle heat radiating off of your lover and a comfortable ambiance.

But the soft silence only lasts so long with the telltale feel of fingers playing with the ties of your robe, a warm puff of breath brushing against the exposed skin of your neck. They leave and trail up to trace over your collarbone and the fabric partly covering it.

Throat bobbing, you relax as his other hand slides from under yours to guide the fabric away from your shoulder.

Before he can drag his lips along the newly exposed skin, you wiggle from his arms, taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the bedroom.

Clothing quickly finds its place in a pile on the floor, leaving no room between the two of you as you lay on your back.

Tender, Kazuha leans down over you, cock pressing to your thigh and lips melding against yours. You gasp into his mouth and buck your hips when his start to roll slowly against yours, grinding down on your own aching member.

With each bump of hips, you moan, tilting your head back.

“Kazuha…”

Dragging his lips over down to the fluttering pulse beneath the surface of your neck, he breathes you in, smiling against your skin. You’re warm, pleasantly so against the length of his body, and the hand that’s settled on your hip slides down to cup your ass and give it a squeeze. Languid, he pulls your hips up against the rhythm of his thrusts.

Every slide of his skin against yours feeds the growing desire but soon his hips stop and your brows furrow at the loss of friction.

Watching as he pulls away, sitting up, your eyes drift between you. Oh, you whisper, seeing the shine of precum spread over your cock and his, how it’s messily leaking over your stomach.

Your cheeks flare and he chuckles, removing himself from between your legs. “No need to be embarrassed. Can you turn around for me?”

Nodding, you shift, pressing your chest to the soft surface of the bed with your arms tucked beneath the pillow under your head. Immediately, his hands are back on you, rubbing up your thighs and massaging your ass. They waste no time in exploring the expanses of skin with teasing brushes and squeezes.

When he lowers himself down onto the bed, his lips meet the round of your ass with a kiss. His hands slide to cup each side.

Holding the soft flesh in his hands, he spreads them, leaning down to trail his lips from where his thumb settles besides your puckered hole. He swipes the pad over it, marveling over the shaky sigh the sensation draws.

He licks his lips and locks eyes with you, chuckling when you advert them and press your face against your arms.

Kazuha’s tongue traces along the sensitive seam beneath your shaft, hot breath puffing against heated skin. He can’t help the way that his lips knowingly curl up when your cock jumps at the feeling.

“Ngh..”

As he laps at the sensitive skin, he blows cool air gently only to place warm lips back. The shift in sensation draws a moan from your lips, though muffled by the pillow, then a gasp. A bite to your thigh trails back up to tease just beside your hole, waiting for a whine to slip before his tongue circles around it. Tensing, you arch your back to press closer to him.

“Patience, dove.”

But as soon as he says that he plunges his tongue into you, groaning at the way you breathe his name.

He works his tongue, thrusting it into you before pulling it away to swirl around your entrance. Eyes closed, he presses another kiss to one of your cheeks.

When Kazuha finally pulls away, a thin thread of saliva left between his tongue and you, he slides his hands from your ass up your back, leaning over you.

“Left drawer?” A few moments are spent missing the feel of him.

The cap of the bottle opens with a sudden pop.

“It’s a little cold, okay?”

You jump at the feel of the cold gel pressing to your hole, and he quickly apologizes. But the temperature is fleeting and soon warms as he circles his fingers around.

“I’ll just use one first.”

Gingerly, he squeezes out a bit more lube before his touch returns to you. His fingers aren’t particularly large, so the first slides in with some ease. It pushes in, to the first knuckle, waiting for you to relax before continuing. When you let out a breathy moan, he pushes it in all the way.

The way you squeeze around the single digit makes his head spin.

“You think you can take another already or should I relax you more?”

So aroused, you urge him to continue.

A second slick finger prods and pushes into you, his hand twisting so his palm is facing up. Already you’re tempted to move your hips, to take them in further. He starts pumping his fingers in you, spreading them to drag along your walls and coax you to relax. Each movement draws a sigh from your lungs and your eyes flutter closed.

“Feels nice…”

But he clicks his tongue, teasing. “Just nice?”

The aimless stretching turns into the slow, careful drag in and out, fingers curving to press just a bit more against your walls. Another crook and—

Oh! Judging by the way your laugh hitches and your hips tilt back, he tries to brush against that spot again. And again, and again, until you’re effectively fucking yourself on his fingers.

“Getting close? I want you to tell me, use your words.”

“Ye—yes- Kazuh—hahh-“

The knot in your stomach tightens and breaks as you tumble over your peak, cock messily leaking white onto the sheets below, and your body trembles at the intensity of your orgasm. A third finger presses in and massages you through the haze of pleasure, making you whine.

Just the three make you feel so full.

“Feels good now, hm?”

But the smug tone hardly registers when you’re so focused on the added pressure pressing into your ass. He continues fucking you with his fingers, prolonging your pleasure, only slowing to a stop when you sob his name and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

A shaky breath of relief accompanies the withdrawal of fingers.

Wiping his hand on his thigh, he settles besides you, kissing your shoulder and gently nuzzling his cheek against you.

“Was that too much…?”

You shake your head, still dizzy from your high. He shifts again, hardness pressed against you. But he makes no move to continue, instead smoothing his hand over your back in soothing motions. A few moments pass where he peppers you in gentle affection while you catch back up.

When you find the strength, you pull your knees up. Burying your face in the pillow, you mutter an okay.

“Relax for me…” He murmurs against your skin, kisses pressed along your spine to help calm you. “I’ll go slow.”

Guiding the tip of his cock along the cleft of your ass, Kazuha takes his time to swipe it along your taint. His heart pounds in his chest, urging him to hurry and feel you around his cock, and he’s sure that yours does the same. But he continues, deliberate, sliding back up your ass and back down. You press your face into the pillow to muffle a frustrated moan and he chuckles.

“Too slow?” You shake your head accompanied with the short chirp of a ‘no’.

When he finally presses against your ass, you’re relaxed and ready. With a murmur of your name, tender and sweet, he waits, letting you prepare. Lips on your shoulder, he carefully tilts his hips closer to yours.

And archons, the feel of him finally pushing past that first ring of muscle…

Kazuha watches the way you react, ruby eyes flickering over your back and thighs for any sign of discomfort. A sigh of relief puffs from his lips when you don’t tense up hard. Good.

“Keep going—”

Impatient tonight, then? But instead of laughing, since his own patience is being tested by the ache of his own desire, he hums and lowers his body to brush against yours.

Just a bit more and—

The sound that leaves your lips sends a rush of heat straight through his body.

“Mmnh!”

Ah, so he did find the right angle.

Focusing on shallow thrusts, he cants his hips back to hit that spot, each stroke slow. Every movement makes your head grow fuzzy and hips try and press back against his for more.

Drinking in your moans, Kazuha rubs and squeezes at your hip, murmuring sweet words of praise in your ear. You’re doing so well, taking him so well—

But right before the white-hot feeling of your pleasure spills over, he instead bottoms out in a fluid motion.

Frustration is quickly overridden by the realization of his hips pressed flush to your ass and his warm forehead between your shoulders. With the suddenness of your tight heat squeezing around him there’s only so much that he can do to will himself to calm down.

Blindly, one of his hands reaches for yours to intertwine fingers.

The cool of the air around you makes you so much more aware of the way heavy panting draws puffs of warmth against your skin, his lips just barely hovering over your flushed skin.

One second turns to five before his hips shift and start a slow pace and you melt against the sheets when he rolls his hips deeper, hips flush to hips.

Each thrust is so deliciously slow, his cock dragging against your walls and pressing up against that spot with every push back in.

Breath ghosts over your pulse as he rocks into you, pulling out and pushing back in entirely. Though the slight twinge of friction makes your breath hitch, the pleasure that washes over you quickly quells any discomfort. The feel of him going so deep with every movement leaves you gasping.

Slow, deep, he takes his time. Kazuha’s lips press to the back of your neck, blowing gently into your ear.

“Love you—”

As he murmurs, his hands travel along the length of your body, reaching to rub at your chest, at your thigh. His voice soft, he whispers these words like a prayer, over and over again as if their truth would only grow with each utter.

With the feel of you so tight around him, he can’t help but quicken his thrust, the slide of slick lube and your moans like music encouraging him. Your still intertwined hands press into the soft sheets of the bed, shifting with every meeting of his hips to yours.

He hits the spot again and you can’t help the plea that slips from you. “Touch me please-“

So he does, the hand on your hip sliding to meet your cock, teasing at your sensitive tip leaking precum and then up its length to wrap around your shaft. Every thrust makes it slip between his loose grip. Each thrust coaxing that familiar pressure to build within you.

You angle your hips more, closer to his. Though his hand leaves yours to grip your waist, he peppers kisses along your shoulders and whispers soft praise. So good, always so good for him.

The next brush against that spot makes you see stars and you’re left with shaking legs. When Kazuha pulls out of you, hissing at the way you clench around him in desperate attempt to make him thrust back in, the hand stroking you leaves.

“Wait—I’m so-“

He presses his cock between your spread legs, tip teasing against your shaft. He guides you to press your thighs together. Chest flush against yours, he thrusts quicker, gripping both of your cocks and stroking to the pace of his hips.

His moans pick up, raspy with need. So close—

Movements quickly become sloppy and his hand squeezes around both shafts to draw another moan from him and a gasp from you, edging closer and closer. The tension builds fast.

With a final slam of his hips against yours, pushing his cock between your soft thighs, he cries out your name and comes undone with warm white painting his hand and the sheets below you. Though sensitive, he weakly thrusts and continues to slide his hand along your shaft until you too feel the pressure in your belly snap and your spend mingles with his.

You let yourself collapse on the bed with limbs pleasantly numb, bringing a startled Kazuha along with you.

Ignoring the way your cum puddles beneath you, you laugh even though you’re already breathing hard as is. He rolls off from on top of you.

“Bath?”

While you try to catch your breath, your lover takes the hand closes to him in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. It brings heat to your cheeks.

“Yes please.”

So after a few blissful moments spent just laying besides each other, you’re settled in the bath with Kazuha beside you. The hot water burns pleasantly against your skin.

Dragging a soft towel up along your arm he gently wipes, every movement slow and steady. The suds the cloth leaves smell sweet, light. When he finishes wiping the sweat and grime from you, his lips press to your temple.

“Want me to wash your hair?” A hum of approval from you is all he needs to hear before he carefully cups some of the water to pour over your head. “Close your eyes—”

It flows, wetting your hair and flowing over your features in little rivulets.

The pop of a cap follows as soon as he’s satisfied with his work.

As soon as his hands find their way into your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp, you can’t help but lean further into his touch. Kazuha chuckles, the sound pleasant in the way it reverberates in the room. He’s always so attentive, so soft.

Sighing, you smile, basking in the afterglow and comfort that he provides, morning still far ahead.

#anon asks #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact #genshin impact fics #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact smut #hehehee just in time for Kazuha's debut #dom!Kazuha #genshin impact x male reader

1K notes · View notes

touyasdoll · 3 years ago

Note

Okay, but why the heck do people think that Izu would be a sub!????? Like dude!???? If anything, I can guarantee you that he can and WILL Detroit smash your pussy. And I BET that he has fucking many kinks and just imagining the riding his thigh is gjghjftujkouhmll mmmmmmmmmmm like gimme moreeeee, and I think he is a big TEASE like he will tease you until you are a mess and only then when you are whispering for him, is when he will touch you and also, he would knowingly go as slow as he can to tease you, like no getting faster and slowly thrusting in and out.

AHHH YES! Anon, I whole-heartedly agree with you. I’m convinced that sweet, innocent ‘Zuku is actually a fucking terror in bed & that’s a hill that I’ll die on 💚

NSFW, Minors DNI

A Break

Pairing: Izuku x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: smut, nsfw, minors dni, orgasm control, teasing, bdsm dynamics, thigh-riding, praise, daddy kink, unprotected sex

“Hey, baby,” Izuku smiled as you breezed through the door to his office. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I remembered you said that you’d have to stay late tonight,” you strolled up beside him at his desk, where he was hunched over various files and loose sheets of paper, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “So I just thought that maybe I’d come and join you for dinner here. Figured we could order something in and you could take a little break.” You leaned down, kissing him sweetly. “You look pretty exhausted, hon.”

He sighed, leaning back in his office chair as he looked you over with a tired smile, “I am, a little bit.” He swiveled in his chair, sitting upright and reaching out to place his large hands behind your thighs, guiding you closer to him. “A break does sounds nice..”

"For dinner," you placed your other hand on his opposite shoulder, quirking an eyebrow when his hands began to traverse up the back of your thighs, creeping beneath the hem of your dress. "What're you hungry for?"

He chuckled, a deep and sensuous rumble in his chest that sent a shiver up your spine. His hands cupped just below your ass, suddenly yanking you toward him, throwing you off your balance until you came to rest securely on his thigh.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear as he took one cheek in each hand, squeezing as he pulled your hips towards him, guiding you into grinding against his thigh, "I'm absolutely starving for a taste of you right now, baby."

"'Zuku," you sigh, taking your lip between your teeth.

"Ah, you know that's not my name, babygirl," his breath fanned over your cheek just before his lips pressed to your jawline, "but I'm willing to overlook it if you'll be a good girl and grind that pretty little pussy on me."

"Yes, Daddy," you mewled, happily doing as you were told.

You never could resist him for long and this was exactly why. The pleasure. That addictive sensation building between your thighs, spurred on by the delicious friction of your clothed cunt rocking against his flexed, muscular thigh.

He sat back and let you roll your hips to your heart's content, allowing you to chase your ultimate high while he cooed words of praise.

"Look at my good girl."

"Behaving so well for Daddy."

"You look so pretty when you're about to cum, baby."

But then came the pain. The pain of disappointment as he stilled your hips, stopping you just short of where you so desperately wanted to be. The peak that he never let you fully ascend on the first try.

You whined, tossing your head back as your fingers clenched around his shoulders.

"Something wrong, darling?" His voice was deceptively sweet, a sadistic habit of his by your standards.

He knew full well what was wrong, as he always did each time you did this song and dance. One that you knew nearly every routine too, but yet it never bored you. You never grew tired of going through each motion, eagerly bounding towards the next, because for all the suffering his tortuous teasing brought you, it always brought you far more pleasure in the end.

"Need you, Daddy," you whined, running a hand over his pecs, pleading with watering eyes. "Please, wanna cum. Need to."

"Need to?" His eyebrows jumped, his smile as gentle as ever. "I don't know about that, sweetheart." He placed his hands beneath your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his desk, standing between your parted legs. "I'll tell you what though," you watched as he dragged a finger up your torso, between your breasts, "I do feel like making you cum on my cock tonight. So, I'll make you a deal." His finger curled under your chin, bidding you to look up at him and you could see his green eyes glinting with devious intention. "No more whining."

You frowned, but he only smirked in reply.

"No whining," he repeated, a smug smile on his face as he retracted his hand to work himself out of his hero costume, peeling it down to reveal his scarred torso.

His hardened cock sprang free as the fabric dipped below his hips, taking the boxers he wore with it as your eyes ogled the beads of precum seeping from his tip.

You had to remind yourself not to whimper as your mouth fell open, his eyes regarding you expectantly, as if he knew you were about to fail the very first trial.

"I promise, Daddy," you spread your legs further, leaning back on your elbows as he stepped closer to you. "No more.”

Your chest heaved in anticipation, your breath hitching in your throat as he leaned over you, capturing your lips and letting out a low groan as his cock rubbed against your soaking panties.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled, two fingers hooking into your panties to tug them aside, allowing his throbbing tip to slip between your folds, but only barely.

You cried out, moaning as your eyes trained on his thick cock, slowly pushing into you. For a moment, you thought maybe he might actually sink all of himself inside, but he withheld.

He drew his hips back, dragging the bulbous head of his cock back along your walls as it came out of you with a sinfully wet noise.

You screwed your lips shut, closing your eyes as you willed yourself to remain quiet. To withhold the needy words piling up in your throat.

“You like that, babygirl?” Two hands skimmed along your sides, taking your dress up and over your breasts as you felt the familiar stretch between your thighs once more.

His hips thrust forward unexpectedly as his massive hands pulled down the cups of your bra to palm your breasts, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Love it, Daddy,” you whispered, your voice soft and quiet as you balled your hands into fists, squirming beneath him.

He gazed down at you, one corner of his lips pitched up in a crooked grin as he raked his eyes over your exposed frame, “You can still tell me how much you want it,” he pushed in a little deeper, stopping at about the halfway point. “I just don’t wanna hear you complain about me taking my time with you. It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

He began thrusting at a slow, steady pace, never fully sheathing himself inside you. Slow and shallow was all that you he offered you, but it was enough to have you babbling anyway.

“F-feels so good,” you cooed, eyes locked with his as your mouth fell open, ushering moan after moan past your lips.

“You want more?” He slid his hands behind your back, pulling you closer so he could hold you in his arms as his lips moved against yours, drowning out your sinful noises with his heated kiss.

“Always,” you spoke breathlessly between kisses, “Always want more of you, Daddy.”

He groaned, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. As much as he loved to draw out these moments with you, he was quickly losing his resolve.

Each gasping breath. Every contraction of your walls around the head of his dick. The way you were looking at him, so obedient despite how desperately you clearly wanted more.

He wanted to give it to you, to really give it to you.

“Oh, fuck,” you threw your head back, arms encircling his neck as the pressure in your belly began to build in earnest. “Daddy, I-I think I’m gonna cum.”

The broken sob that heaved from your chest was the last straw.

Calloused hands seized your hips, digging in to your supple skin as he finally thrust all of his length inside you.

“Did Daddy say you could cum yet?” He held himself there, fighting the feral need to impale you until you were screaming his name. The tears pricking your eyes only made it that much harder to hang on.

“No,” you sighed, clenching your eyes shut, aiding a single tear in its descent over your cheek.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, baby,” he wiped the tear away, cupping your face with both hands now as he pulled his hips back at a glacial pace, until he’d completely removed himself from your core.

His mouth hovered just over yours, catching every shaky breath you expelled and the moans that accompanied them. He could still feel you clenching around nothing as he rutted his length between your folds. It had him nearly fit to burst, seeing how needy you were, how badly you wanted to suck him back into you.

For a moment, he contemplated just finishing himself off there. Splattering your pretty tits with his cum and watching it drip down your torso, into that sweet cunt of yours for him to lick clean.

But instead, he tucked that idea away. He’d come back to it when he was feeling a little more patient, because all he wanted right now was to barrage your cervix until your pussy milked him dry.

In one fluid motion, he lined his cock up with your dripping hole and snapped into you, immediately setting a relentless pace.

You could feel the smirk on his lips as you cried out against them, grasping onto him for dear life as you keened louder and louder, hoping the outpouring of cries would lessen the need to come undone.

“Cum for me,” he growled, finally taking mercy as he captured your lips in a proper kiss, his hands dropping away from your face to come to rest on your lower back as he felt his release fast approaching.

He swallowed the strangled moan you let out as you finally let go, pulling away only to hear your wanton cries as tears streamed over your cheeks. Your fucked out face almost giving him a greater sense of satisfaction than the way your walls spasmed around him as he painted them white with his hot, thick ropes of cum.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours as you both floated back down, collecting your breath. “I needed that.”

“Mm, anytime, love,” you laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “But now you definitely owe me dinner.”

635 notes · View notes

katsukisprincess-archive · 4 years ago

Text

need | kiribaku x reader

a/n: jo asked me to reupload this from her birthday last year! for @lady-bakuhoe

summary: kirishima is hit with an aphrodisiac quirk on the job and bakugou knows exactly who can help him out.

pairing: mostly kirishima x reader, slight bakugou insert

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nasty. dubcon, rimming, fisting, implied pegging, dirty talk, squirting, slight threesome

“Shut up, shitty hair, you’re going to wake her.”

“I can’t help it, dude, look at her.”

The voices peaked through your consciousness, followed by a cold whisp of air that caused bumps to rise on the exposed skin of your leg. You let out a groggy noise, finally allowing your eyes to blink open to the scene in front of you. You tried to focus in and when the spinning shapes of morning turned into figures, you found it hard to believe that what you were looking at was reality.

Katsuki Bakugou, your husband, was sitting across the room from you in a chair. His arms were crossed against his chest and he had a classic smirk on his face, already alerting you that something was off. What it was, you discovered, was the grown man in bed with you- one that smelled like battle and sweat and everything you didn’t want against your sheets.

Eijirou Kirishima was someone you were very familiar with. He had been your friend alongside Katsuki since the Yuuei days and up through the present; he was at nearly every house function and worked in the same agency as Ground Zero. Kirishima was no stranger at all, but you just weren’t used to him in your bed.

“W-What? Eijirou? Katsuki?” Your voice was so innocent, so meek, that it went straight to his already-stiffening cock. His reaction made your head snap to him, and then to your husband, and back and forth until Katsuki finally stood up at joined you at the side of the bed.

His hot palm brushed your hair back while the other cascaded your stomach, easing the goosebumps from the open window. His lips came down to your forehead where he pressed a rough kiss before speaking. “Got hit by a quirk on the job today.” He motioned to your friend, who was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of your bare torso.

“And?”

“Help me.” Eijirou rasped. “We joke about it all the time- fuck- right?”

He wasn’t wrong. Conversations about your sex life were in no way private and in no sense of it all had Katsuki ever been closed off to the idea of his best friend joining in on the fun. You had just figured that when- if- it had happened, it would have happened on… different terms.

But how could you say no to Red Riot on his knees for you, thick cock straining through his shorts and leaking through the fabric?

You crawled over to Eijirou as Katsuki sunk back into his chair on the other side of the room. Leaning back and legs spread, he watched as you closed the distance, your grabby hands urging Eijirou’s massive length out of his shorts. It was so large you could barely wrap your fingers around it, truly. He was bigger than Katsuki was, but you were sure that he had much less experience using it compared to his belligerent best friend. As you took in the sight of his meat, Katsuki was pulling his own out of his pants across the room.

One upward tug on Eijirou was all it took for his first orgasm to hit him- and it hit him hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across the mattress and over your thighs, marking you up for the first time that night. He came with a guttural grunt, but by the time he was finished, you could tell he was in no way even close to being satisfied.

“Fuck,” Eijirou exclaimed, toppling you onto your back and laying his weight on yours, attacking your neck with his teeth and drawing blood on the first plunge. “This quirk. I’m sorry, shit, I can just smell you from here-”

Eijirou pulled himself off of you to yank your lacy panties off of your frame. With a yelp your hips landed back on the bed and you watched in shock as he brought them up to his nose and smelled your essence that was dripping against the material. A visible shiver ran down his spine and you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together, strangely turned on by the sight of Red Riot sticking his tongue out just to suck on your panties.

“Taste her, Eij, it’s like fucking candy.” Katsuki’s voice was strained, and it only fueled your lust further to see him lazily jerking his own girthy cock in his hands. It was one thing to fuck your partner, but it was near etheral to watch them pleasure themselves with an outside perspective. With his hair fanned back and dirt still sticking to his skin, Katsuki looked delicious.

You didn’t have much time to think on your husband as Eijirou quickly tore your legs open, dipping his head down to lick a clean stripe up your folds. You gasped at the sudden intrusion and your thighs moved down to clamp around his head, but they were immediately slammed back open and shoved back against your chest by two large, hot hands.

While unexperienced, Eijirou was passionate. He was moving so quickly and so harshly against your sensitive skin that you couldn’t keep up, instead deciding to crane your neck to watch him suck and slurp. His eyes would come up to meet yours occasionally, shooting you a desperate look from under lidded eyes. Mewls and whimpers fell from your lips like a song, and you were unable to stop yourself from bucking up against his face and forcing your juices to coat his cheeks and chin.

“Get her ass, too. She’s a dirty little slut, aren’t you, princess? You want Eij to rim you?”

Both of you on the bed groaned instantaneously at Katsuki’s lewd notion. Since Eijirou’s hands were planted flat on your thighs, it was easy for him to push you up and use his thumbs to spread your cheeks apart, your back arched into the air and your ass leveled with his mouth. His tongue moved to prod at your tight hole before he began running circles around it. One hand moved to rub at your clit at the same time, and before you could react, you were cumming. Eijirou groaned as your asshole flexed against his tongue and waited for you to settle down before dropping your back onto the bed once more.

“You felt so good Eijirou, let me feel your cock~”

Before you could continue, he had slipped three fingers at once into your cunt. It was tight, and it hurt, but he looked absolutely desperate above you, holding his weight on one arm and pummeling his hand into your heat to chase you along.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He muttered, his cock twitching as he watched his fingers disappear inside of you. A fourth finger was slipped in and you cried out loudly, your hands flying down to grab at his wrist. Pain soon fell into pleasure and Eijirou climbed up on the bed, resting his forehead on yours and fucking you until he was sure you were warmed up enough for his thumb as well.

“Gotta stretch you out, babe.” He was so deliriously lost in lust that he was unable to form full sentences, but you got the gist of what he was saying. Under him, his cock looked dauntingly thick, and you wondered how it would feel inside of you compared to what was now his entire fist inside of you.

Tears broke the surface and cascaded down your face as Eijirou’s pace picked up, burying himself wrist deep inside of you. Katsuki couldn’t keep his eyes off of the scene- it was so fucking dirty and something he had been dreaming about for so long. Watching his best friend wreck his little princess was a fantasy buried deep in his brain that was finally breaking the surface.

“Please, please, please, Eijirou, please-” Your begging turned into sobs, unable to hold back when he was stretching you further than you had ever been before. “Please give me your cock, Red Riot. Ple~”

The use of Eijirou’s hero name snapped something inside of him.

You had never felt an orgasm hit you harder than your third of the night, almost immediately after you began swiping at your clit in time with his thrusting. Eijirou didn’t slow his pace as you began to gush over the sheets, squirting all over his torso. “That’s a good girl, fuck, babe. Fuck.”

The feeling of his fist pulling out from you left you feeling empty. His hand was covered in slick and your stomach churned as he brought it up to his mouth and sucked off as much as he could before bringing it to your mouth and making you taste yourself. Dizzy and overstimulated, your eyes drifted to Katsuki, who was covered in his own cum and panting heavily.

Eijirou was reaching a breaking point. He wanted- no- he needed to cum again, and while the idea of him shoving his length down your hot throat sounded like a dream, he couldn’t pass up the way your gaping cunt was currently clenching around nothing.

“Fuck her, Eijirou, or I’m going to do it for you.” Katsuki hissed from the other side of the bedroom, already growing hard again at the thought of either option. There was something so fucking sexy to him about watching you get thrown around and used like a fuck doll, not being able to say anything to complain with his friend’s massive frame towering over yours.

“I haven’t done this much.” Eijirou muttered as he positioned his cock to your entrance and adjusted himself accordingly. When you gave him a questioning look, he continued. “Haven’t been able to fit it in.”

His words partly made your stomach flip while also sending you into desire overdrive, causing you to help pull your legs apart to give a better view. You wanted to watch his girth stretch you once again, this time helping his current problem and getting your husband off at the same time. He already knew you’d be getting him back for this all at some point, especially when your eyes drifted over to see that it was just past three in the morning, but you were going to enjoy it while it happened.

Eijirou pushed the tip in slowly, watching your face for any signs to stop. You only dropped your jaw and whined, pulling your legs closer to you and trying to get a better view of it. His cock was fucking insane, truly, and it was an thought in your mind that was finally being satisfied. “You are huge, Red Riot.”

With a grunt, he thrusted himself all the way in. You should have known that your games were misplaced, especially during a time where Eijirou was in a completely different state of mind. He didn’t really know that his dick was so fucking thick that is was going to split you in half, and when he crawled forward and slammed you into a mating press, you knew he really was completely oblivious.

“Tight fucking pussy.” His words were sloppy, but the force in his thrusts made up for it. His thighs felt enormous on either side of yours and you wondered how much cock he couldn’t stuff inside of you as you felt nearly overwhelmed with the sheer weight of it. “Gonna fucking tear you apart.”

Animalistic was an understatement. His thrusts were so loud that it rang through the room and between his noises and yours, you were sure you could be heard down the street. Katsuki had moved over to you, watching and jerking his cock. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, watching you suck down on him as his hand moved frantically.

“Fuck her harder, Eij, she’s not crying.”

You would be crying if you could breathe. He was so close to you, radiating so much heat and so much force that you were lost for movements. You laid limp as he took you, his cock dragging against your walls and stuffing you beyond repair. His mouth found your nipple and soon his hand found your other tit, giving both so much attention and bruising while still tearing away with his thrusts.

Katsuki pressed his hand down onto your forehead, giving him access to see your tear-stained cheeks and watch as your face morphed into one of serious pleasure. He was bearing his teeth as he came closer to you, signaling that he was about to cum and it was going to be all over your fucked out expression.

Eijirou pulled out at the same time, crawling up your body to angle his swollen cock at your face and join Katsuki in covering it completely. You stuck your tongue out to catch both of them as white strings coated you, both of their scents mixing and both cumming enough to leave you overwhelmed.

After he was finished, Eijirou fell back on his heels before crawling off the bed and over to your dresser. You watched in curiosity, still covered in cum but realizing that Katsuki must have mentioned that was where your toys were kept. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to pull out of there, but it definitely wasn’t a strap-on.

“It’s our turned to be fucked, don’t you think, babe?”

#kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #tw: dubcon #tw dubcon #tw:dubcon

2K notes · View notes

2goth2moth · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! How are you doing?🤗

This is my first request that I ever made soooo I hope I'm doing everything okay😅

If I may ask for an alpha!werewolf x reader smut where the reader just flirted with another wolf to make their alpha jealous? And his reaction is.. i would say special😂 lot of teasing, dirty talk, rough sex and so on😊

Thank you!☺

Here you go, I hope you enjoy! :-)

In a String of Bad Ideas (M!Werewolf x GN!Reader, NSFW)

Word count: 2834

Includes: Jealousy, dirty talk, marking, scent kink, face-fucking, thigh fucking, rough sex

You had never exactly been known for your good ideas. It certainly wasn’t that you were unintelligent, but your years growing up could be read as a roadmap of ideas that would have definitely gone better if you thought them through. In a word: impulsive. But in retrospect, this particular idea was definitely one of your less thoroughly considered.

It started at a party. Well, if you were splitting hairs, it started with Finn. With your boyfriend, and with him not paying enough attention to you. You had both been busy, so you couldn’t really fault him, but still. You hadn’t had sex in a month, and even when both of you were free, he hadn’t really taken you up on offers to even hang out. Enough was enough. So there you were, at a party. Trying to make your boyfriend, your alpha werewolf boyfriend, jealous.

Another alpha werewolf was standing in front of you. In the pulsing lights of the party, you couldn’t really make out any features other than abnormally tall and solidly built, both very much standard for werewolves. You didn’t remember his name, if he’d even told you yet, and you hadn’t really heard the joke he’d just told over the music, but you still laughed indulgently. Your hand found a place on his forearm, and a little flicker of satisfaction went through you as his eyes came to rest on your exposed chest. The shirt you wore was unbuttoned a hole or two too far to be decent, your shorts cuffed an inch or two too high to be entirely appropriate. All on purpose. You weren’t sure where Finn was at the moment, but you had to make the scene look right. You let yourself drift closer to the wolf’s large form, rubbing your hand along his hairy arm.

He began to move his hand down to just graze your hip when another hand, broad and clawed, yanked you away and into a large, distinctly wolfish form. A quick glance up revealed Finn towering behind you.

“Hands off,” he growled, lips pulled to expose sharp teeth in an obvious display of aggression.

The no-name wolf you had been flirting with flashed his own teeth back. The air became so heavy with alpha pheromones that even you could start to smell them. “Why? It’s not like they’re yours.”

Finn’s claws dug into your waist and pulled you flush back against him. “Actually yes,” he said, tone steeped in possessiveness. “They are.” He leaned down to lick the side of your neck messily, keeping eye-contact with the other werewolf the whole time.

You knew that where he ran his tongue was roughly where scent glands would be on a werewolf omega. Such explicit and public claiming was something that he had never done before. It sent heat licking down your spine. He stayed there, staring down the other wolf, lapping at your skin, until Mr. Nameless dropped his gaze to the floor in submission and backed away.

The wet strokes against your neck let up. “Hey Finn,” you said, a little breathless, “Where were you- HEY!”

What you began saying was cut off with a yelp as Finn locked a hand around your wrist and began dragging you through the house after him. You went along with it, hoping that this reaction would lead to something fun. He threw open the door to an empty bedroom and pulled you inside, locking the door behind you.

“What was that?” He asked, backing you against a wall.

You feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking coy. You were all over that guy. You’re basically half naked. What’s going on?”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell him at some point. “I was trying to make you jealous. You haven’t really been paying attention to me lately.”

He crowded even closer to you, wedging his thigh between your legs. You were completely flush with the wall now. “So you let some other wolf’s filthy hands on you...to make me jealous? Why? Are you that desperate for me to fuck you?” His voice was perfectly even and dangerously quiet.

You knew that you were still playing with fire, but you barrelled on ahead. “Yeah, so? It seems to have worked out well enough,” you teased, grinding slightly against the leg he had tucked between yours.

Finn dipped his head down to run his lips along the shell of your ear. “And what exactly makes you think I’m gonna fuck you?”

“Um, this?” You asked, slightly confused, pressing your leg even closer to his groin. His cock was was hard and heated against you.

“Oh, ‘this’?” He said. His breath fanned out over the side of your face and he ground against you properly, letting out a harsh little grunt. “This is getting dealt with, but I certainly won’t be fucking you.”

A whine broke from your throat. “What? Why not? I thought that you would have wanted to prove I was yours.”

“Believe me, I do. By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know who you belong to. But you actually want me to fuck you, and what would be the point in me rewarding bad behaviour?”

“Finn!” You complained, trying desperately to not buck your hips into him.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck. “Shhh. Maybe if you ask me nicely, I’ll let you cum sometime tonight.”

You barely had time to let out a whimper before Finn crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. It was messy, almost violent, more tooth and tongue than proper kiss. You moaned helplessly into his mouth, grabbing at the hem of his shirt to steady yourself. He quickly moved down to your neck, the skin completely exposed by your own mostly-undone shirt. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses fell along your collarbone before he latched onto the soft patch of skin under the corner of your jaw. Right where he had licked earlier, right where a werewolf mating bite would go. You gasped loudly as he began sucking a mark there. It was only seconds before the skin felt swollen and bruised. He pulled off with pop and a harsh nip.

“You’re mine, do you understand?” He growled.

Not trusting yourself to say anything, you nodded helplessly. He kept assaulting your neck, leaving hickies and shallow bite marks on every inch of your neck that he could reach. It all felt so good that you didn’t notice his hands wandering until your shirt was ripped clean from your body.

“Hey!” The cold raised goosebumps on your flesh. Finn’s hands began to roam your bare torso, claws lightly scratching lines too soft to really hurt. It was getting difficult to stay fully composed. “I liked that shirt. And I don’t have anything else to wear back home.”

“I’ll buy you a new fucking shirt. And you can wear my shirt back,” he snarled. His hands landed on your hips and he bodily flipped you so that your chest was pressed against the wall. Your shorts and underwear were yanked down your legs in a single motion. “Or walk back naked, I don’t really care.”

Claws dug painfully into your hips as he pulled them back enough to make your spine arch. A single messy kiss on your shoulder was the last thing you felt for several seconds before Finn was licking a slow, broad stripe over your puckered hole. The sudden feeling made you moan and arch even further into the wall.

He took the meat of your ass between his teeth and bit down, hard enough to sting, before soothing the mark with his tongue. “Do you want me to eat you out?” He kissed your other cheek. “Want me to drive you crazy with my tongue?” A bite to the top of your thigh. “I’ll make it so you’re so turned on that you’re dripping, then I’ll fuck your thighs.” Another lick to your hole. “If you really beg for it, maybe I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“P-please!” You pleaded, mind getting fuzzy with what he was saying.

Finn dipped his face back to lap at your perineum. The very tip of his tongue caught on your rim on a particularly teasing upward drag. “I won’t knot you properly, only good little omegas get knots.” You weren’t an omega-- you weren’t even a werewolf-- but the term being thrown at you so casually sent sparks through your blood. It felt so right. “But I’ll mark you so completely that you won’t even be able to burn my scent off of you. No one is ever going to forget who you belong to. Especially not you.”

You barely got to choke out a “Please, Alpha” before he shoved his face back in your ass. His tongue teased your hole on each slow lick, tip not quite breaching the rim. He was definitely just teasing you now, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you beg. At least not yet. You sank your teeth into your lip to stifle any noises and let your head drop forward against the wall. Your attempts to maintain composure were quickly broken down by the feeling of a hot, slippery tongue plunging into you. A strangled moan broke out of your mouth with each flick against your insides.

“O-oohh God.”

Finn’s answering hum was muffled. His jaw kept working against you, slowly drawing more noises of pleasure from you. Saliva was steadily dripping out of his mouth where he moved. It ran in thick rivulets down the inside of your thighs, and with a desperate little movement you ground your hips back into his face.

Claws dug deep into your ass where he was still holding you. With a loud growl and another hard bite to your leg, he pulled himself up to stand behind you. A zip and the sound of fabric rustling sounded before he plastered himself against you, cock hard and leaking against the small of your back.

He kissed the side of your throat, wet and open-mouthed, with the barest scratch of teeth. “Keep your thighs together.”

You obeyed, squeezing your legs together as tightly as you could. You could feel Finn adjust his stance before pushing himself into the miniscule space between them. Despite how tight it was, the movement was slick, aided by his pre-cum and the spit that had dripped down from your ass. The shaft dragged against you on its way through, making you groan low in your throat. The feeling of him fucking your thighs and kissing your neck was good, especially when his hard length ran against your crack and groin. But the touch was just barely a tease. It was nowhere near satisfying to you, and the gentle grazes were making you writhe in a fruitless attempt to get something-- anything-- more fulfilling. The head of his cock appeared between your legs, shiny and glistening red. Pre-cum was beaded at the tip, and you couldn’t help but swipe your finger over it, gathering the clear fluid, and putting it in your mouth. The taste was one you were intimately familiar with, musky and rich, supposedly the same as Finn’s alpha pheromones.

A sharp smack landed on the fullest part of your butt. It felt equal parts painful and pleasurable, and the shock sent you jolting forward into the wall with a yelp.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Finn huffed into your ear. He began pistoning his hips even harder, dragging his shaft between your thighs, making your legs shake with each stroke. You shook your head. Another hard thrust slammed your chest into the wall. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“No, A-alpha,” you choked out.

“No, I didn’t.” He aggressively sucked another hickey onto your neck, right under the hinge of your jaw, so high that there was no way you’d be able to cover it. “So why exactly did you think it was okay?”

“I want you, Alpha, so bad. I just couldn’t wait.” There was no doubt that your voice was whiny and more than a little pathetic at this point. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You could feel Finn’s mouth curl into a vicious smile on your skin. “Do you want to suck my cock that bad? Filthy little omega can’t wait for me any longer?”

That word again. “Omega”.

You squirmed in his hands and shook your head, not completely trusting your voice. The way that Finn was talking to you, the way he touched you, like you properly belonged to him, was turning your mind to goo. For a split-second, you wished that you were a werewolf omega so that you could take his bite, so that he could take yours, so that you could possess each other the way mates did.

“Do you want to suck me off?” You nodded, a little shakily. “Hmmmm, I’m not sure I believe you.” He stopped thrusting through your thighs, just standing at your back, massaging your ass. “You may have to convince me.”

Determination crystalized in your chest at the challenge. You turned to face him and sank to your knees. The dick in front of you was massive, flushed and slick with pre-cum, knot beginning to bulge at the base. You kept yourself carefully levelled with the shaft and stared up at Finn through your lashes. This was a dirty move, you knew, he had told you numerous times that seeing you kneeling like this drove him wild. The ball was back in your court, even if you were the one desperate and begging.

“Please, Alpha,” you whined. Exhaling into the sound, you drifted forward slightly, letting his dick hit your cheek, leaving a trail of slick pre-cum on your skin. “Fuck my mouth, cum all over me, please. Make everyone know whose omega I am.”

At the end of it, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out. Finn held for a breath, staring down at you. In one swift, sudden movement, he seized your jaw and plunged his cock inside. The intrusion made you gag for a second, but you relaxed your throat around him, settling comfortably into your usual rhythm for this. One clawed hand stayed locked around your chin as he began driving his length into your mouth. The girth of his shaft stretched your mouth uncomfortably. Each stroke sent the head into your throat, making you choke and spasm around him. The feeling sent little spurts of gloriously rich pre-cum shooting into you with each forward thrust. You could see his knot swelling in front of your nose, already close to popping from when he fucked himself between your thighs. You began swallowing around him as well as you could, trying to milk him to completion.

His grip on you was getting harsher, biting into you with those big, sharp claws, and his thrusts were getting sloppier by the second. Each ragged breath was edged with an animalistic growl as he became more desperate for release. He wasn’t talking anymore, just fucking into your open mouth, chasing his pleasure with single-minded determination. You moaned wantonly around him, the sound muffled by his heated flesh. Spit was leaking out of your mouth, mixing with pre-cum and sliding down your chin and dripping down.

“Gonna- fuck- gonna cum!” Finn snarled above you. He dragged you off of his cock, leaving you panting, covered in saliva, mouth hanging open. He pumped himself a few times before squeezing his knot and cumming all over you with an aggressive yell. Pearly ribbons of white, the same thick musk as his pre-cum and pheromones, fell across your face and hair, catching on your eyelashes and landing in your waiting mouth.

You swallowed what landed on your tongue. A large hand swiped cum away from your eyes and rubbed it into the warm skin behind your ear. Opening your eyes, you looked up into the warm, adoring face of your alpha. He brought his hand up to your mouth, coaxing you to lick it clean. Your thighs were still sticky from his mouth and cock, and cum was now dripping from your face onto your chest and legs where they were folded beneath you. Hickies and bruising fingerprints littered your neck and hips. You looked so thoroughly fucked-out, and yet…

“Was I good enough? Do I get to cum now?”

Finn grinned at you, toothy and wicked, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure. “I’m going to take you home now, omega. And I’m going to tease you until you cry, until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you cum. And then I’m going to leave you there for hours. And only when you’ve really learned your lesson will I let you finish.”

He hauled you upright and kissed you, deep and filthy, swallowing up every whimper that fell from your lips at the threat.

#exophilia #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #werewolf boyfriend #smut #nsft #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #bigots dni

163 notes · View notes

lokislastlove · 3 years ago

Text

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x Reader) p.3

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: ok last chapter! It’s just smut basically... or my attempt at it. @darkficsyouneveraskedfor did the best she could to clean it up for me. Poor girl.

Chapter 3:

You squeak in surprise as your weight is supported mostly by your ankles, head slipping dangerously close to the knife above you. He laughs as he watches you wiggle on the board, blood rushes to your head quickly.

“Perfect” he says as he removes the knife from near your scalp and cuts the lace bra from your body.

He lets out a low hum, dragging his long fingers over your tits. He pauses a moment to pinch each nipple, twisting harshly and pulling before letting them go. You hiss at the slight pain while he admires your hardening buds.

He draws tantalizing circles around each nipple with the knife as you try to keep still, afraid he might cut you. You can’t fight the goosebumps that rise due to the cold knife on your hot skin.

“Stop” you sob as tears run across your forehead and into your hairline.

“I thought all women enjoyed a little foreplay” he jokes.

“No, I don’t want this, please stop” you try to shake your head but your cheek grazes a knife still implanted in the wall next to you.

“Lies” he says tossing the knife to the ground.

He brings both hands up, tickling along your chest and gives a harsh slap to each breast. He cups them roughly, digging his fingertips in to the tender skin as he squeezes them.

You try not to scream at the overstimulation, you’ve never had someone give them this much attention before. He plays with them until they are so sensitive you pant and push your back into the wooden wheel to try to get away from him.

You bite your tongue to hold in any noise, knowing that is all he wants. He wants you to submit.

“Let’s see what else you have for me to play with” his large soft hands slide down, or up, your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

More tears fall as he slips his digits into your shorts and teases the sensitive skin of your pelvis. One finger slips down your slit, dipping in to find your clit. You flinch as he rubs slow circles over it.

You try not to react, but the adrenaline, the blood flowing to your head, and the shadow of his touch on your chest makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he touches your clit.

He slips one hand out from under your shorts but leaves the other to play with you as he unbutton them. Your head tilts to look at what he’s doing, he can’t possibly get the shorts off in this position.

To your horror, he grips the fabric on each side of the zipper and tears the shorts straight down the middle. You let out a startled scream at the display of pure strength, the fabric tearing along the seam and he pulls each piece away until you feel the cool air along your panties.

“Mm, already wet for me,” he hums in delight seeing your wet undies cling to your lips.

He crooks a single finger and pulls the underwear aside and leans in to lick a firm line along your slit. His tongue is warm and slippery and you tense as you try to fight your growing arousal. He licks long and slow and brings his hands to pull your lips apart, exposing your pussy to him fully.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he smirks before diving in.

He alternates between circling your bud and dipping his tongue into your hole. Each time he changes it makes you twitch and without thinking you arch your back. A moan finally breaks free as he sucks on your clit hard.

“That’s it. Sing for me,” he orders, voice deep with desire.

He feasts on you, getting more wild with each sound you make. It’s as if he wants to push you to your climax as quickly as possible. He pulls your clit into his mouth again and shakes his head side to side and you wail as you push your pelvis against his bewitching tongue.

You tense as you prepare to fall over that pleasurable cliff but you are left wanting when he pulls away suddenly. You sob as the ache of your orgasm fades away and your head snaps up to look at him.

“Wha-?” You mumble.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come before me,” he laughs at the pathetic desperation in your eyes.

You close your eyes, disgusted at yourself for falling for his tricks. Just a few light touches and he has you burning for him.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the gentle zip of his slacks. He slips his hands into his briefs and pulls out his throbbing cock. You watch as he pumps it a few times, precum dripping from the tip as he nears your face.

“Open wide, darling,” he lilts.

You bite your lips and close your eyes again, just to spite him. You aren’t sure you can take all of him, and your head is already pounding.

“Not wise to fight me with those knives so close to that pretty face,” he snickers as he taps his velvety tip against your mouth.

You open your mouth, let’s just get it over with, you think. He slips inside slowly and lets out a long breath. You can’t see his face from this angle but you feel himlooking at you.

He gently places his hand on your neck as he pushes in steadily, and plunges to the back of your throat. You gag as he fills your mouth and you hold back a heave. Your eyes roll back as he blocks your ragged breathes. The lack of oxygen and the pulsing of blood in your head is intense and uncomfortable.

He stays there, deep down your throat for a few seconds, his public hair tickling your chin, as you struggle against your bonds.

With a sigh he pulls back allowing you a choking breath. You cough as you try to recover.

“Would you like me to spin you back upright?” He asks softly and runs his fingers lightly over your lips and down your neck.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“So polite,” he praises. “But no.”

He cackles as he shoves his cock back into your mouth and fucks your face. You can do nothing but hang there as he pounds the back of your throat, slowing now and again to push further down making you gag around him. He speeds up at every cough or gag.

“You pretend not to like it, but look at this dripping cunt,” he says slapping your pussy and you scream around his dick.

The stimulation of your voice tips him over the edge and he pours his seed in the back of your throat. Gravity makes it difficult to swallow so you cough and spit up his cum as he pulls away.

You’re still coughing and dizzy when he twists the board back into place so you are upright. The pressure in your head takes a moment to subside. You make a show of spitting out as much of his seed as you can, aiming in his direction. He smiles at your attempts and proceeds to remove the remaining daggers from the wall, using the last one to slice away the stray bits of your clothes.

He tosses the knife away and kneels down in front of you and you tense in anticipation. With a smirk, he pops open the cuff on your left ankle, and moves over to release the right, letting your feet drop back to the center so that you can support some weight on your toes. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bite of the metal around your feet relents.

“You know, you make me almost miss performing,” he grins and flashes his sparkling white teeth. “I loved making the crowd hang on my every move. Oh, the way they used to gasp or cheer with just a flick of my wrist. Mmm, maybe I’ll keep you as my assistant.” He hums as he stands in front of you, taking you all in.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d make a very good hooker,” you insult.

His eyes flicker at your comment and his smile fades so fast it almost makes you regret your jab.

“Let’s see how long you can keep that fire” he growls deeply, grasping your hips.

His fingers dig into your bones before he drags them down the outside of your thighs. He hooks them under your ass and lifts up your lower half. He pins your legs around his hips as his hardening cock prods at your entrance. His green eyes bore into yours as he finally sinks into you.

He is larger than any other man you have encountered and he relishes in the pain painted clearly across your face. As he brings his pelvis flush to yours, he pauses and hums at the feeling.

“I knew you’d have a tight cunt. Hng. It’s delicious, darling.” He groans as he slides in and out.

“S-stop calling me that,” you grunt.

You shriek when he responds with a jarring smack to your ass. You clench around his cock by accident. He laughs and pounds into you harder between spanks. You can feel him beating against your cervix and you twist your hips as you try to relieve the pressure.

“Please, oh god, it hurts,” you sob as you shake your head.

“You love it,” he hisses.

“No, no. Please!” You scream and pull against the cuffs, trying desperately to put some space between his cock and your cervix and wiggle his hands from your ass.

He digs his nails into your ass cheeks and picks you up and drops you on his dick until you scream in agony and pleasure. The pleasure catches you by surprise but you feel that coil twisting in your stomach no matter how hard you fight it and no matter how much it hurts.

He sees your eyes go wide and you bite your lip when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and he focuses his attention there.

You gasp when he drops one of your legs, opting to use his fingers on your overstimulated clit. He rubs hard circles until you are crying and pleading him to let it end. A shiver rolls down your spine as you race to your peak, your body tensing and your breathing erratic. Just a little more, anything to push you over that last hurdle.

“Should I let you come this time, darling?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes. Fuck. Please, please,” you beg frantically, terrified he will deny you again.

You no longer recognize yourself, reduced to a needy pathetic mess. Nothing else matters except for that ache, the desperation to come overloading every other sensation or thought.

His deep chuckle in your ear makes you cringe and your pussy clenches as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Very well, come for me now, darling,” he commands and pinches your clit between two fingers.

You curse and scream as the squeeze tips you over the ledge, your cunt constricting around his length as your body arches into him. He pumps into you as you continue falling, toes curling and shoulders scraping the chipped wood board at your back. You delight in the euphoria and relief that washes over you all at once.

You come down from the longest orgasm of your life, your pussy easing slightly as your vision returns slowly, though your ears still buzz. Through your lashes you see his face, smug and cruel, as his hips stutter announcing his own release.

“Yes. I think I’ll keep you for a while longer.” He breathes into your neck as you feel him pull out of you.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

#dark fic #dark loki #dark loki x reader #tom hiddleston #come one come all

277 notes · View notes

lovieebby · 4 years ago

Text

The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

#poly!oscar x pedro fic #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fic #poly!oscar x pedro x reader smut #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fanfic #Oscar issac fanfic #oscar issac smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fanfiction #poly!oscar x pedro x reader smut fic

616 notes · View notes

hisoknen · 4 years ago

Text

kinktober day 3: predatory prey pairing: shindou x fem!reader warnings: noncon, vampire au, blood, gore? (you get bitten) wc: 2.1k

a/n: i was imagining of kol from vampire diaries while writing this oop. thank you @tomurasprincess and @10millionyearsdungeon for both beta reading and feeding me your thoughts. i am so fortunate to be in your webs. the running scene was fun and challenging as heck to write i hope you enjoy reading friends!!

You stumble against a bed of rocks at the forests entrance, quickly twisting your neck around to make sure you still have distance between you and your assailant. The crunch of leaves under your feet and shallow breathing is filling the air, hand pressed against the leaking wound spilling out at your neck.

You were out walking, the time had escaped you and the weather was beautiful. The fall air was chilly, and leaves were scattered about. Taking a deep breath, you could smell the earth heavy in the air, the breeze crisp and flooding your senses.

There was a feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach the second you saw the man. His skin was pale and soft, eyes piercing and dark. The smile he gave you as he glided toward you made you feel weightless. His voice was deep and commanding, pulling you into him.

You looked around and noticed that you’d gone too far out this time. There were no houses around you, no people in sight except for him. You were drawn in, and he inhaled softly against your neck, his nose trailing the sensitive flesh, licking a line to your pulse point before biting down.

The searing pain that jolted through your body quickly melted into pleasure, your mind fluttering as you leaned into his touch. The sound of a crow cawing broke you out of your trance, and in your pained confusion, you pushed him away from you and began running.

The blood was steadily dripping down your neck, covering your collarbones and soaking through your shirt. You didn’t believe in a god, but that didn’t stop you from frantically mumbling prayers under your breath in hopes that something, anything would save you. Your lips tremble, and adrenaline spiking through your body as you trip over roots and stumble across the uneven ground.

“You have fast legs, little thing,” his gravelly yet cheerful voice seemed to echo all around you. You stop cold in your tracks, turning your head to search for the direction he was coming from.

Your throat burns and tastes like blood. Heart is pounding against your eardrums, beating so fast it feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

Crouching down you try to take breaths, willing yourself to take air into your lungs. Blood seeping through your fingers, dripping everywhere. No matter how much pressure you applied, it just wouldn’t stop. There was a soft dripping against the leaves below you like raindrops lazily falling from the sky.

"Wow, you’re really quick. I might have to take this serious huh," shooting up from your spot, you begin sprinting blindly ahead, scrambling over large rocks and jumping over fallen trees. A branch catches your arm, tearing into it, legs cut from the tall grass and weeds you'd pass. Your clothes are tattered from the falls and catches on sharp edges around you.

The further you go into the forest, the foggier it becomes—your anxiety spikes when you slip on mud. The crows scattering from the trees as if they, too, are trying to escape the presence that is following you. You can no longer feel the sting of the branches hitting your face, only the shaking of your numb limbs desperately trying to stay upright on the uneven landscape.

"It's really too bad that you're leaking blood everywhere," his voice whips around you like the air rushing past your face. Your legs are jelly, only running on adrenaline to push you forward out of harm's way. Your vision was becoming spotty and tilted. Each breath you take threatens to send you to the ground.

“You can’t run forever, little thing. Aren’t you getting tired?” A dark sadistic chuckle encases the space surrounding you. You lurch forward, your foot tangled in a tree root. You’re wheezing as you grab onto a tree to hold yourself up.

Where were you running to? If anything, you were running even further into the forest, where no one would hear your pleas and screams. But what other choice did you have? You had to get away from that thing.

“I do have to say, you’re making this fun.” Your knees buckle below you, chest rising and falling quickly as you try to draw in ragged breaths. You had to take a break before you could keep going, but there wasn’t time.

The moment you relaxed, your head swam with dizziness. You had to get out of here before he found you. The forest was silent, only the crow's sound cawing in the distance with the sun beginning to fall out of sight entirely.

“Hey, there, little thing.” You let out a shrill scream, throwing your body to the side. He was looming over you, crouched down where you once sat. He was right behind you, and you hadn’t even heard him coming.

“You smell amazing, you know that?” His attention is focused on the runny handprint on the tree, his fingers gathering up the blood as he brings it close to his face. He dips his tongue out to pull in his finger, closing his eyes and sighing as he tastes the crimson stain.

“So sweet, leaving a trail behind for me to follow,” the taste of copper begins to crawl up your throat, your hand losing its strength and falling to your side, blood spurting from the wound he left behind. A raged sob escaping from your trembling lips, you try with all your might to scoot away from him.

He stares at you like an eagle watching its prey struggle in vain, studying its movements for the right time to attack. Elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, head cocked to the side. He smiles at you, sharp pointy fangs catching your eyes. There is no longer much in light, only the sun setting behind his form.

“While hide and seek was fun, I think I’m done playing for now,” He reaches out, squeezing your leg and tugging your body toward his. With such little effort, he’d swiftly pulled you away from your safety.

He climbs onto you, grabbing your hands as you try to slam weak fists against his chest. Pushing them over your head, he bends over, running his tongue across your jaw and inhaling deeply.

“Plea-” you sputter out, blood leaking from your lips.

“What’s the matter, little thing?” his hand reaches behind you to tug the shorts down to your knees. Your breath comes and goes in small whimpers as he traces your bundle of nerves through flimsy panties. Wincing when you hear the fabric tear and a cold breeze catch your skin. He stares deep into your eyes, gauging your reactions as he begins to probe your cunt, running his fingers over your slit.

“It looks like you enjoyed the chase too.” He’s not asking you a question as he pulls his soaked fingers up for you to see. Warmth spreads across your belly as he picks up the speed, rubbing and tapping at your clit while you let out garbled gasps. His finger teases your hole, a vibration coursing through his fingertips snaps you out of the lust-driven trance.

“I didn’t,” You try to look at him through tear-filled eyes, chest rising and falling as you wait for his reply.

"No?" You cry out as he thrusts a cold finger into your tight hole, curving his fingers up and rubbing lightly at your gooey insides. There was only gruff moaning above you as he coaxes your insides, searching for the places that will make your head spin.

Your cunt opens wide for him, sucking the digits in. There seems to be something inside of you that pulls you against his fingers in rhythmic pulses like a desperate whore seeking her release.

He retracts his fingers moving down your body. You try to move, but your body is overcome with the chase's exhaustion, not a single muscle moving no matter how much you beg your body. He pulls your numb legs apart, running his fingers along your dribbling cunt absentmindedly. He sinks his fangs into your inner thigh. You let out a silent scream laced with a moan as his tears into your flesh.

The bleeding at your neck has clotted, caked dried heavily against the skin. Each time he bit into you, it felt like your mind was being pumped full of aphrodisiacs. Unwilling to comprehend the fear you were feeling, turning hot and sensitive as he fed on your body. His tongue lapped at the skin in his mouth, sucking in your life force bit by bit while you writhed in pleasure underneath him.

He flips your limp body over with ease, you taste the dirt and leaves mixing with the lingering copper setting in your mouth. He rubs his cock against your glistening hole, gathering your arousal before plunging into you. His cock slowly sliding into your unwilling core, bottoming out impossibly deep.

You try to buck against him to get him off of you, helplessly clawing at the dirt. With each struggle and bite, your energy is sucked away from you. Forcing you to only feel what he’s doing to you.

“You really hate this that much, little thing?” He holds your hips tight, pushing them against the damp ground as he grinds against you. The motion has your head spinning despite your desire to escape. In some twisted way, your body is responding to each of his movements. Bile rising in your throat at how strongly your cunt is tugging him in for more.

“So how about this? If you don’t cum I’ll let you go.” His hips grind against your clit, his tongue trailing across the back of your shoulder. “But If you do cum, I’ll go ahead and kill you since you hate this so much.” He purrs, trailing his fingers across your exposed skin.

“Fair enough?” He ruts against you, his ice-cold skin almost burning against you, a cold chill running up your spine. You were just a toy to him—a thing to play with. You shudder, taking a sharp inhale through your nose to slow your breathing.

He was using you against your will. He was going to kill you either way, yet you couldn’t stop letting out pathetic mewls each time his hips snapped against you, cunt to be drooling onto his balls.

He tugs your hips off the ground forcing an arch in your back. Hands finding yours and pulling them behind your back. He uses them to drag you onto him with each thrust. His cock begins to shake inside of you, rattling against your walls uncontrollably. You bring your thighs together, trying not to focus on the pleasure riddling your veins.

The coil inside of you begins to tighten. If you came from this, he would kill you. Thick tears run down your cheeks as you play his words on repeat in hopes that something in your body would obey you and stop responding. You start to feel cold, your vision spotty from the blood loss, arms numb being tugged relentlessly behind you.

“You were such a good thing to play with,” His voice rings in your ears. “But I don’t think you’re going to last much longer.” He chuckles darkly, tugging on your arms and arching your back against his chest.

You let out a whimper as his cock grazes your cervix. The intensity of the vibrations pick up as he latches onto the other side of your neck, the breath from his nose tickling your skin as he feeds from you.

There is a weight building up inside of you. The small pulses of your cunt on his cock turn into a wave of pulses as you pull him in further. The coil in the hollow of your belly snaps weak, whines rippling past your lips as he stills against you, letting you swallow his cock.

“Fuck little thing,” he slowly thrusts in and out of your sopping pussy, your quivering walls hypersensitive to the veins on his cock. The agonizing pain you felt before begins to fade into numbness, your body growing cold.

This was it. This was how you died. Pathetically wrapped around a stranger's cock, begging him for more while he bled you dry. Your eyes feel heavy as the soft numb overtakes you.

Shindou looks down at your abused body. He pulls up his pants, scooping you into his arms. He pauses, looking down at your closed eyes, and sickly completion. Biting into his wrist he holds it over your mouth. The blood trickling in rapidly, his wound healing almost immediately.

The color starts to return to your face. Your breathing not as shallow. Your bites begin to slowly close, only the crimson stains remaining caked on.

"I think I'll keep you around just a little longer, little thing." He quietly hums to himself as he carries you further into the forest.

—

kinktober masterlist

tags <3 @linestrider @pleasantanathema @idratherliveinbooks @mx-minxx @kenmasmyvibe @leeswritingworld @katsukis-sad-angel @trafalgar-temptress @dabis-kitten @stainedglass-wings @thirsthourdemon @zyrielwolf

#shindou x reader smut #shindo x reader smut #shindo yo x reader smut #shindou yo x reader smut #tw noncon #tw blood #bnha x reader smut #bnha smut

619 notes · View notes

darkisrising · 3 years ago

Text

BobaDinLuke bdsm fic, by DarkIsRising

Can’t decide if this is something to continue or if this is as far as it goes. So, I’m just gonna dub it a Tumblr fic for now. If it picks up steam then I’ll add to it, edit it, and throw it onto ao3. CW: Very very spicy, bdsm, a host of other stuff probably but rest assured everything here is consensual.

They meet at a sex party, which in hindsight shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s just about the only time Luke can be talked out of leaving the house these days.

He shows up in a hood that hides his features save for somber brown eyes and the plush spread of his lips; the black latex so shiny that Luke can just about see his own reflection in it. He wears leather like a second skin and even without being able to make out a single feature on his face, save those eyes and lips, or a single detail of his body, save his exposed cock, he is the most beautiful man Luke’s ever seen.

Luke, of course, is naked. His knees are hitched up to his chest, held there by his own arms that he knows better than to lower, and the words Load Count are scrawled in extra wide Sharpie from one nipple to the other. He’s already gone two rounds and there’s two lines beneath the words to show for it. Boba’s turn came first, of course. It was his privilege as Luke’s dom and he'd taken it with one finger hooked around the collar that marked Luke as his. And then after Boba there had been a guy that Luke hadn’t recognized with a nice enough cock and a regrettable tribal tattoo across his shoulder.

There’s something about this third man that gives Luke pause. Something in the way he takes his place at Luke’s ass— something so hesitant and careful and precise and apologetic as he pulls himself hard enough to sink into Luke’s body— that is awfully endearing. Luke wishes he could tell him it’s okay. That he’s here because he likes doing this sort of thing. That his dom is somewhere nearby, watching from the shadowed corners of the room, to make sure that despite all the calls to wreck that twink’s ass and fuck him up! and do it so hard he won’t be able to walk no one actually does anything that Luke isn’t into.

He can’t, of course, because his mouth is where Boba’s left the Sharpie, a neat solution since the last time they’d played this game the Sharpie had been lost to the dungeon’s dark and sticky floor within the first five minutes. Instead he tries to show it with a widening of his eyes and an encouraging grunt for every tiny thrust he gives as he fucks inside of Luke, the wet from lube and release slicking his way. When he’s all the way in he rests for a moment and it feels like the kind of moment that Luke could live a lifetime in for the way he meets Luke’s eyes, the way his gloved thumb reaches down to rest against Luke’s chin, the way he stretches Luke’s ass with just the right amount of cock to set the base of his spine sparking, but not so much that Luke’s worried he’ll be split in two.

“Ready?” he asks and his voice is so low it very nearly gets lost to all the moans and groans and demands for more that writhe like eels through the air. His eyes gleam dark in the dim dungeon and Luke can’t look away. He nods, entranced, and for the first time that night Luke’s not thinking about all the men that are going to follow, he’s only thinking about the one that’s inside of him.

I want to kiss him. The thought hits him— blinding as a bolt of sunlight that’s been hidden behind a cloud— and it’s the most that Luke’s wanted something so chaste in so long he doesn’t know what to do with it. Not that he has many options in this position with a Sharpie clenched between his teeth. All he can do is stare at this man’s lips and yearn with an intensity that carves into his chest as this man’s cock carves into his ass and Luke can’t say of the two sensations which is more intimate.

“You’re so tight,” the man rasps out and Luke can’t stop himself from clenching down, his hips jerking at the compliment. It’s something he’s heard a million times from countless, faceless other men, but oh the way this man says it makes him flush all over.

It’s over before Luke’s really ready, but one glance over the man’s shoulder and Luke can see a line is forming. Usually it would make him hard in anticipation, to see so many that want to use him and fill him until he’s leaking. This time he wishes he could have more time with just this one.

The man takes the marker out from between Luke’s teeth and Luke wishes he’d replace it with two of his leather-covered fingers. He doesn’t, though, only marks a line on Luke’s chest and then in the same soft, sincere way he’d told Luke he was tight says “Thank you,” and in that moment Luke is pretty sure he’d do just about anything for this man.

Which is a terrifying, thrilling thought. And a dangerous one, seeing as his rash, unchecked impulsiveness is why he needs a guy like Boba to keep him in line to begin with.

Before the man can cap the Sharpie again, Luke darts to snatch it out of his hand. The weighted shape of Boba coming out from the shadows, called forward by this change of script.

Luke ignores him. He ignores the line of waiting men stroking themselves hard as they watch Luke with interest as he grabs this man’s hand.

“May I?” Luke asks in as submissive a voice he can muster, and Boba would be so surprised to hear it come out so easily, but Luke can behave when he wants to. Most of the time. “Please, sir,” he adds when the man says nothing.

A slight incline of his head is all the answer he gives, and Luke wastes no time in peeling away his brown leather glove. He writes out his cell number as clearly as he can with a marker that’s a little too thick for it and then, when he’s done, he holds that brown gaze as he bends down to blow the ink dry.

“Thank you, sir,” Luke husks, heart beating wildly. The man doesn’t say anything back, he only takes his glove and works it back down over his hand and then he’s gone, swallowed by the dark.

“Is there a problem?” a voice growls near Luke’s ear. Tugging on the collar around his neck brings Luke’s attention to Boba’s familiar, scarred frown.

“No, sir,” Luke says, turning his face into Boba’s neck, nuzzling in, but Boba steps away, keeping him at arm’s length.

“That’s only for good boys that finish what they start. Are you going to finish what you started, little one?” It’s a warning as clear as the shake of a rattlesnake’s tail: dangerous and low.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Two hands take Luke by the shoulders and lay him back down. The marker is plucked from his hands and recapped with a snap. “How many loads have you had tonight?”

“Three, sir.”

“And how many did we agree you’d take?” Boba asks, catching Luke beneath his knees, hoisting them back up against his chest and into position.

Luke shivers, as the humid air meets the wet of his hole, breathing cold, while the hot, hungry gazes of the waiting men meet among the slick. “Eight, sir.”

“Then get to it.” The Sharpie is slid back between his teeth and then Boba’s hands are winding through his hair, pulling just enough to bring a jolt of pain. Luke’s breath catches in his throat. “No distractions this time.”

Soon enough another guy is penetrating Luke, brought forward by Boba’s commanding nod. He’s rocking into Luke, fucking him with an intensity that makes a dull thwack every time their bodies meet. The next guy is huge, so big that Luke has to bite down on the plastic hull of the marker in his mouth to keep from screaming. Tears squeeze from Luke’s eyes, wrested out with every incredible thrust in. Luke loses track after that. The pain becoming pleasure, the pleasure never quite becoming enough to spill over into satisfaction, only transforming into something else. Something intense and terrible and blessed and more. The men change, the girths and lengths that hold him open and fuck him apart change, and Luke takes them all.

Through it all Boba stays where he is, supervising with an unforgiving hand in Luke’s hair, the pain a constant that Luke can depend on, focus on, until it becomes awash with a dull, glowing haze. This is what he’s here for— this feeling— this euphoria where he’s horribly small and he’s unfathomably large, together. He’s an object to be used and discarded. He’s more precious, more vital, more necessary than he can comprehend.

A kiss on his forehead cuts through the fog, and Luke realizes he’s not being fucked anymore for all that he can still feel a phantom grinding between his cheeks. His fingers are made to unclench from where they’ve dug like claws onto his flesh and his legs are lowered. The wet mess that’s been left to leak out of him is a turn-on but even that is a distant thing. There’s no immediacy to it, no driving need to slack his lust, just a thrum of appreciation for this proof that every man that’s had him tonight has left behind.

Drawing him in, Boba cups the back of his head until Luke’s pressed into the cradle of Boba’s neck. He was denied this privilege earlier. Now it’s being freely given. The difference sets him shaking, or maybe that’s just the come-down.

“That was good.” Boba’s voice is a rumble that Luke can feel through the places they are pressed together. The steady jump of Boba’s pulse is calming against the bow of his lips and Luke closes his eyes to savor it.

Time gets away from him again, and somehow he’s been cleaned enough to stuff his legs into pants and a warm sweatshirt is pulled over his head. The black hood comes up, as good as blinders on a horse, and then he’s led out to where there are sofas and water and people speaking soft as a passing brook.

The lip of a water bottle is pressed to his mouth and Luke obediently drinks from it without thinking. Boba sits in a plush armchair and though he’s shorter than Luke, there’s so much of him that Luke can curl into his lap and disappear behind the safe, steel beams of his muscular arms.

“Your boy did good out there,” Fennec says, dropping into a nearby seat and Boba’s agreement is another rumble for Luke to savor with his eyes closed. “I haven’t seen you two in months, I was surprised to see you came out for this.”

There’s a question in her words, a careful line to walk between curiosity and concern, that normally sends Luke into a tailspin in the outside world. Here, though, he isn’t Luke Skywalker: wounded veteran and broken hero. He’s a pet— Boba’s pet— and he lets his dom navigate the social interaction while he sinks deeper into his embrace.

To Boba’s credit, he makes no mention of the malaise that’s grabbed hold of Luke lately, pinning him to the bed and keeping him there for days. Instead he huffs a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well. Maybe if Fortuna hadn’t turned this place into such a shithole we’d be over more.”

“Can’t argue with that. Say what you like about Jabba, but at least things weren’t always breaking on his watch. Did you hear about the ceiling that collapsed a month ago? When someone was in the sling, too.”

“Oh, shit.” Boba says and then they are off, trading gossip and wry quips. Luke is content to close his eyes and listen, secure that the only thing he needs to do is exactly what he’s doing right now. Every now and then Boba strokes his back through the thick cotton of his hoodie or turns to nuzzle at Luke’s temple, and every time Luke’s contentment spreads thick like molasses.

He surfs this subspace all the way back home where he lets Boba get him clean and dressed in pajama pants and poured into bed. The last thing he does is release the buckle on Luke’s collar and then, with one final squeeze to the scruff of Luke’s neck, the scene is over.

“How are you doing? Want me to grab the ibuprofen?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” Luke answers, shifting so that the ache in his ass becomes a little more noticable. “Been awhile since I did anything like that.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Was proud of you, though.” There’s a chair by the bed and Boba sits there, staying close but careful to give Luke his space now that they’re done for the night. “That’s two more than the last time you took on a train.”

“Mmm,” Luke agrees lazily. The writing on his chest hadn’t totally come off in the bath, and he pushes his blanket down enough to trace the lines on his chest, lingering on the third one.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about with number three?”

Number three. He of the shiny latex mask and the deep brown eyes and the lips that Luke can almost feel against his own for how much he’d wanted them to be. It’s enough that he almost asks Boba to bring him his phone so that he can wait around like a lovelorn teen for a call or a text, but he’s still coasting enough on endorphins from earlier that he doesn’t want to completely tank his chance at sleep by keeping vigil over the glow of a phone screen all night.

“Not really,” Luke admits at last. “Wasn’t anything bad,” and Boba accepts that with a nod.

“Fine. Keep your secrets. Let me know if it becomes anything I need to worry about.”

“Always.”

Boba stands to leave, a lumbering swing to the motion that Luke knows means his prosthetic is giving him problems, but he knows better than to mention it. “Don’t worry about making breakfast tomorrow. Sleep in. I’m in meetings all morning, anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.”

When Luke closes his eyes, the ache from his over-used, well-fucked body is finally enough to quiet his demons. For once, sleep is swift as death, and just as inescapable.

#bobadinluke #spicy #darkisrising fic

36 notes · View notes

august-bleeds-red · 4 years ago

Text

Tag Team

In which the AFAB!Reader discovers what Bo and Vincent can achieve when they work together.

Dedicated to the fabulous @quiveringdeer for being my sounding board and general awesome human, and to the absurdly talented @thesightstoshowyou for igniting my love for these boys with her phenomenal writing! ❤️ NSFW under the line.

You know you’ve been in the Sinclair household too long when you can identify the person behind you by how they grab your ass.

“Bo,” you sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the smug bastard smirking at you. You’ve been cleaning almost all afternoon, sweeping and scrubbing under the kitchen units, and the stove is your final task before you allow yourself some rest. “Really? Right now?”

“Hell yeah right now,” he chuckles, smoothing a large hand over your jeans-clad ass cheek. “You’re puttin’ on too much of a show here for me to wait, darlin’.”

Setting down the dishrag you’ve been scrubbing the stovetop with, you wipe your hands on the ratty old T-shirt you’re wearing and turn to face him. You can’t lie – even after all these months, he’s still more than a little intimidating to you. Six-foot-one of sinewy red-blooded Louisiana male, leering down at you like a fox cornering a baby rabbit.

“Now, what made you think I was interested in seein’ your face?” he says, gripping your hips and swivelling you back round to face the stove. He’s undoing the button on your jeans when a shadow falls across you from the doorway. You both turn to see Vincent staring at the two of you. He’s dressed casually, meaning in clothes that aren’t caked in wax, his long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail at his neck.

“Little busy here,” Bo warns.

Vincent looks to your face, already flushed with expectant arousal.

It’s my turn, he signs.

“Fuck off it’s your turn,” Bo snorts. “Go on, get.”

But Vincent’s not budging this time. Three long strides and he has his hands on you, jerking you from Bo’s grip and pinning you to his chest.

“The fuck?” Bo looks genuinely annoyed now. “Y’think you can just barge in here and blue-balls me?”

You groan in exasperation. Usually this kind of She’s Mine play would have you feeling hot under the collar, but it’s been a long day. “Look, one or both of you just do it or let me get back to work, okay?”

A thread of silent communication seems to pass between the twins, and Bo’s lip curls mischievously. “You want front or back?” he asks.

Vincent holds his hand out flat in front of his face and moves it downwards to his chin.

Bo shrugs. “Fine by me.”

Before you can so much as question what’s happening, Vincent hauls you up and over his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes to the ancient shag-pile rug in front of the TV. Setting you down, he quickly pulls off your T-shirt while Bo tugs at your jeans. You step out of them almost automatically, the cogs in your weary brain piecing together what’s about to happen. Forcing you to your knees, the brothers both unbuckle their belts.

“Eldest first,” Bo grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding you to his waiting erection. Your mouth opens automatically and you take him inside, bracing yourself against his thighs as he drags you back and forth along his length.

“Ahh yeah, that’s it, baby.”

Knowing what’s expected of you, you scramble blindly for Vincent, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking it. He lets out a rasping moan and thrusts into your loose grip. Bo allows you to break free and you turn your attentions to Vincent, sucking on him until he’s rock hard against your tongue. You’re vaguely aware of Bo rummaging for something in a nearby drawer, and when your eyes focus on the blue bottle he unearths you realise “front or back” was not referring to Vincent in your mouth and Bo in your pussy.

“Wait—” You try to pull away, try to stand, but Vincent already has a hold of you.

With a strength that always manages to surprise you, he drags you down to straddle his hips, one hand already on his cock, nudging the tip at your slit. Despite your disquiet at the way Bo is approaching leisurely from behind, you can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips as you’re impaled on Vincent’s impressive girth. He may be the quieter of the twins, but he’s by no means merciful – not with his victims, and not with your body. You thank stars for the natural lubrication of your arousal that allows him to penetrate with little resistance, the sting of the stretch lasting only a moment before the warmth of pleasure blankets you. Vincent’s hands settle on your waist, easing you slowly – but firmly – down, until your thighs meet his hips. You unconsciously push upwards as he lifts you, chasing that spark of bliss that curls through your lower belly. Vincent’s thumbs paint patterns in your skin, hips thrusting to meet your downward strokes. You cry out, palms flat against his chest, the muscles in your legs burning with the effort to keep elevated.

“Room for one more?” Bo’s liquor-smooth voice murmurs in your ear, and you feel the straps of your bra ping loose. Throwing the offending undergarment aside, Bo cups your breasts and squeezes hard. You gasp and he claps one hand across your mouth, slipping two thick fingers inside. You taste traces of engine oil and tobacco, the smoky-sweet scent you’ve come to associate with him. Combined with the aroma of wax and clay that clings to Vincent, you’re deliciously trapped in a cloying fog of aphrodesia.

Releasing your mouth, Bo’s hand traces the curve of your spine, pressing between your shoulder-blades to force you into a more accessible position. Your heart pounds and you glance anxiously over your shoulder at him. His eyes glint wickedly back at you, one hand stroking his cock with obvious intent.

“Bo,” you whisper. “Please. . .”

“Please what, baby-doll?” he purrs.

“Don’t hurt me.”

“Now why would I do a terrible thing like that?”

He rubs the tip of one finger, wet from your mouth, against your rear hole; Vincent slows his thrusts to a slow, crawling pace, just enough to keep the fire lit. You squirm as Bo’s digit pushes past the tight ring of muscle, the intrusion not big enough to hurt, but enough to feel unusual. When he adds a second finger, however, you flinch.

“Aw, too much?” You can hear the gleeful grin in his voice. Pushing both fingers in to the second knuckle, he splits them into a V, stretching you in preparation. You guess you should be thankful he’s giving any at all. You feel strangely empty when he pulls them out, but only for the briefest moment before you feel something bigger take their place. Vincent falls still as a figurine, his one sky-blue eye watching your face intently. Reaching between your bodies, he rubs the fore and middle fingers of one hand against your clit, sending a hum of pleasure murmuring through you to counteract what’s happening behind.

“Oh fuck, baby,” Bo grits his teeth as his cockhead disappears inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

By the time he’s fully sheathed, you’re trying to remember your name. You’ve never felt so full as you do now, you would go so far as to say . . . complete. Vincent drinks in your kaleidoscope of expressions like a man dying of thirst; the holy sequence of pain and pleasure that crosses your face more beautiful than any art he could create alone. He gives an experimental thrust and you see Heaven. When the brothers begin moving together, you can just barely cling to your sanity. The warm, soothing ecstasy from Vincent integrated with the sharp, gratifying pain being served to you by Bo takes you to a new plane of experience.

“Y’like that, huh?” Bo threads his fingers through your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck. “Y’like being stuffed like a little slut?”

“Nng . . . uhh . . .” Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

“Say it,” Bo licks a long stripe up the side of your neck. “Tell us what you are.”

“I-I . . .” the tempo of the two of them inside you sends lights popping before your eyes. “I’m— I’m a slut.”

“And who owns your pretty little pussy?” He deals a sharp slap across your ass cheek. “Who does this ass belong to?”

“You!” You’re almost sobbing, your pleasure rising within you like the sun. “Oh God, Bo . . . Vince . . .”

Bo quickens pace, hips smacking into your ass with ruthless force, and Vincent hand is almost vibrating with the speed at which he’s massaging your clit. Your combined gasps and moans rise in harmony, Bo turning the air blue with lustful curses.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” you whimper, white heat radiating upwards through your body from where you’re connected. “I’m— I’m gonna cum . . .”

“That’s it, baby,” Bo grunts, his thrusts evolving into mindless snaps of his hips, jerking so sharply you wonder if you’ll have bruises there tomorrow. “You’re gonna be drippin’ with cum after this. Gonna fill you so fuckin’ full.”

Your scream must echo to the church when you finally finish, your inner walls pulsating against Vincent’s cock and drawing his own orgasm from him. The warmth of his seed fills you, spilling down your thighs.

“Gonna cum in your ass,” Bo’s breathing is ragged, you can tell he’s close. “Gonna fuckin’—”

The sensation of cum shooting deep into your ass is an interesting one, but the wild howl of ecstasy that emits from Bo more than makes up for it. Both brothers are twisted, broken, often cruel, but God if they don’t give you pleasure the like of which you’ve never known; or likely ever will again.

You collapse onto Vincent’s chest as Bo pulls out of you, unable to keep your balance any longer. Vincent’s softening cock is still inside you, twitching occasionally when you move. Bo staggers to his feet and cups your jaw in his palm, claiming a feral kiss from your dry lips.

“You’re ours, Y/N,” he says.

“Yours . . .” you nod dazedly. You think you might pass out.

Both of you glance down at Vincent. It’s not often that he speaks, but the monosyllabic moments he does are always worth the effort. Lifting his wax mask from his face, he gives his own interpretation of Bo’s signature smug grin.

“Ours.”

#house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent x reader #horror #slasher fic #my fics #slasher community #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher x reader #bo x reader #vincent sinclair x reader

340 notes · View notes

ghoultramp · 4 years ago

Text

sing for me [hawks x reader]

▷ bnha

↳ pairing: hawks (keigo takami) x f!reader

↳ content: light subdom, cum play, choking, biting, consensual force

↳ words: 2.3k

⇢ summary: a bit of shameless smut, to be quite honest with you. just a good fuck in keigo’s apartment, not sure what else to tell you - aha (originally written around oct. 2020)

also available on ao3

You have never seen such hunger in his molten amber eyes, his markings bold against the smoky remnants of eyeliner.

He looks feral as he moves closer toward you on the giant sofa. It suddenly feels like it engulfs you as your heart thuds against your chest, a warm tingle ignites in your core. Your thighs twitch when his hand grips your right one, his body leaning just enough over you.

Keigo notices, clearly he does, and squeezes ever so slightly. He leans in and brushes your ear with his lips, hot, ragged breaths escaping his throat.

Your own are short, broken, pathetic breaths.

"To think I've barely even touched you," his voice is a low growl. It sends shivers down your spine that causes you to twitch beneath him. Keigo likes this and rewards you by inching his hand closer to your arousal. "But why don't you sing for me, y/n?" He presses down hard on your clothed clit with his thumb, his impeccable aim elicits a breathy moan from your lips.

Your fingers fumble as you unbutton his shirt, Keigo successfully distracting you by leaving a trail of butterfly kisses along your jaw while teasing your clit. His thumb circles gently, yet with enough pressure to make you squirm; the stiff fabric of your trousers causes a pleasant friction against the silkiness of your underwear that tickles against your clit. Keigo knows this and flicks his thumb expertly at the seam, he wants you to writhe beneath him, he wants you to submit. To break.

You begin to feel frustrated as you get to the last button and with impossible speed, Keigo shrugs off his shirt and grips both of your wrists with one large hand.

As he holds your restrained hands above your head, his body looming over you, you feign struggle; his knees keep your legs wide open and ready for him. You squeeze your thighs against him playfully and he tightens his grip, he smirks when you respond with another, pathetic whimper.

"I think you can do better than that, baby bird."

You feel your eyes flutter at the way he draws the last words, honey dripping from his lips. With one hand, he expertly slips his fingers under the waistband of your trousers, tugging them away from your hips, down your legs. You don't move when he lets go of your wrists briefly to completely free you from the garment.

His knees knock your inner thighs as he climbs back on top of you, his blond hair a tussle of loose locks that he no longer bothers to style; it frames his face in shadows that make him look all the more sinister as he wraps his free hand around your throat. You anticipate a squeeze you hope is coming.

"Oh," he draws the word out with a low moan, a half-smirk forms on his lips and his hand tightens, but it's not the hand you want it to be. He makes his point by lifting your arms and bringing them back down on the back of the sofa with a thud.

Your eyes travel down his scarred chest, drinking in his perfectly toned abdomen; a hint of dark blond hair leaves a trail down to his waistband, the button and zip are undone, where it disappears beneath the band of black boxer shorts. You inhale sharply at the bulge that's barely contained within the v-shape of his open trousers.

Keigo's hand grips tighter around your throat, putting enough pressure on either side for your breathing to become just a little more than a wheeze. You try to squeeze your thighs together to quell the sharp jolt that strikes your cunt but you fail. You whine in defeat and arch your back into Keigo, almost brushing against his throbbing bulge.

Keigo is quick to remove his hand from your throat to press down hard on your mound with his palm.

His eyes are ravenous, intense.

"Now, now y/n," he chuckles when he says it, a deep, throaty chuckle that makes your body thrum. "Is this what you want?" You watch his hand slowly slide against the silky fabric of your underwear to the seam between your pussy and thigh. A cry catches in your throat as your pelvis twitches ever so slightly beneath his touch.

"Keigo, please," your voice is barely more than a broken yelp.

Keigo obliges you this once, he curls his finger under the seam and pulls them back to reveal your ready, wet lips and you notice his breathing changes as he drinks in your scent; faster and heavier. You feel the pull of the waistband against your lower back and think nothing of it until you hear a ripping sound.

"No need for these, is there?" he says, holding your bundled underwear in his fist.

He lifts them to his nose and breathes in deeply, he lets out a satisfied groan before throwing them to the side; you feel your pussy clench and your clit throb to the beat of your erratic heart.

He grips the bottom of your shirt with a balled fist and tugs it up over your breasts, your bra lifting with it. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and you suddenly feel vulnerable beneath him. He flicks a thumb against an erect nipple, the hiss of your inhale is music to his ears. Keigo gently cups your left breast as his mouth makes contact with the supple flesh.

You can feel him trace patterns around the areola, teasing you. He squeezes and tugs at your breast as he engulfs your sensitive, swollen nipple in his mouth, tending to it with his skilled tongue. You feel the smirk on his lips when you try, again, to pull against his restraining grip. You stifle a moan by biting your lip when Keigo's teeth make contact with your nipple.

He lets his grip on your breast fall, and he traces the contours of your body as he brings his head up to look at you.

He wants to watch you come undone.

The thought sends a shiver straight down your spin, you can't anticipate any of his movements or motivations. You watch him, his eyes are glued to your breasts that rise and fall with your heaving breaths. Keigo catches you off guard when he gently hovers two fingers against your entrance, pressing the pads of them against your hole.

You barely have the time to notice that the glistening tip of Keigo's long, hard cock is now peeking above his waistband when he pushes his fingers inside you, up to his second knuckle; you hear him groan in unison with your own strangled sound of pleasure. He pushes a little further, gently kissing your forehead.

Keigo curls his long, thick fingers inside your tight cunt, hitting the spot that makes you quiver and mewl. You can feel his hot breath against your neck now and you can't help but let a moan escape your slightly parted lips. You can hear the cockiness in his voice when he speaks.

"There it is."

He nips at your neck, a lick with his tongue for a flourish.

Your hips betray you as they grind into Keigo's hand, his rough palm rubs against your swollen clit as you do so. You feel his fingers twitch inside you and a whimper catches in your throat. Keigo brings his head to look at you and his face flushed with arousal, his eyelids heavy.

"Eager, aren't we," he coos, grinding his palm harder against your clit.

He watches you intently as he quickly pulls his two fingers out of you with no grace, slick with your juices. You groan in protest at how empty you feel, Keigo notices; he only smirks when he rams three fingers into your throbbing wet pussy. You don't have time to react before his mouth clashes with yours, hungrily requesting access with his tongue.

Keigo growls when you bite his bottom lip and he forcefully pulls his fingers in and out in one quick motion. You yelp, bucking your hips violently. You feel Keigo at your throat again as his fingers make delicate circular motions inside of you. You feel his breath against your skin once more before he sinks his teeth into your flesh; he moans into the bite when he feels your pussy tighten deliciously around his fingers.

You feel a gratifying pressure as he begins to suckle at your neck, his tongue flickering like lightning bolts against the already bruising skin. Your pussy grips tighter and tighter around him until his fingers can barely move. Your breath is sharp and all that escapes your lips are fluttering little moans.

"Someone's close," Keigo says against your neck, but the abused skin being exposed to the air sends you over the edge.

Keigo's hand bottoms out against your clit and he smirks down at you, watching your face contort beautifully in your orgasm. He relishes in your long drawn out moan as he removes his fingers; he grunts at the loud, wet noise it makes.

You watch him bring his fingers toward you and you obediently part your lips for him; Keigo gently rubs his wet fingers along your lower lip before diving in with his lips, he kisses you with so much ferocity your body falls limp beneath him.

You can hear him fumbling with his undergarments and you smirk into the kiss.

"Don't think I'm letting you go, baby bird," he tells you, releasing his cock from its cloth prison. You watch it spring up against his abdomen, the pre glistening on the head; you inhale sharply and bite your bottom lip in an involuntary response. "At least not just yet."

You watch Keigo as he traces the tip of his cock with his thumb, the rest of his fingers barely holding the girth. You whimper in protest, now thrashing against his restraint. Keigo is quick to put you in your place; he holds your face between his thumb and first two fingers.

"What did I tell you."

It isn't a question. His hand is quick to your backside, lifting you to one side to scoot onto his knees; you straddle him. He manoeuvres you to fold your elbows and holds your restrained hands behind your neck, you wince at the pulling heat from your muscles as they ache in this awkward position.

He hunches slightly, holding the pre dribbling head of his cock against the wet, pink hole of your pussy. Keigo pulls you into him with his restraining arm, his girthy cock slips further into your pussy than either of you anticipate, a slick, wet noise fills your ears as he bottoms out immediately. He holds you tight as your body shudders under the force of the unexpected shunt, a drawn-out guttural moan escapes your mouth.

You hear a satisfied groan from Keigo as he releases your wrists; your heavy arms fall limp at your side. He envelops your waist as he holds you up with his strong arms, guiding your movement as he begins to thrust. He chuckles under his breath when he feels you tighten up as he gently pulls out half of his length.

"You fought so hard against me to be free and now look at you," he teases before thrusting hard again, hitting past your g-spot. His pelvis smashes against your inflated, abused clit.

You let out a sound that's a mix of a scream and a moan, writhing against him, your hands find the back of Keigo's neck and they stay here, holding yourself against him.

Breathless.

You both begin to pant as Keigo quickens the pace, you feel his cock open you up with every thrust, burning pain turning to uncontrollable ecstasy as your bodies grind and collide with each other. You mewl as pumps hard, stopping as he hits your cervix. You feel his cock twitching against the sensitive insides of your pussy. You're close and so is he. He's holding himself back but your impatience takes over.

You whimper as you straighten yourself up against him, your clit riding hard against his pelvic bone; Keigo inhales sharply as you begin to grind against him.

"You're gonna make me come," you can barely make out his words as he buries his face in your neck.

He digs his nails into your sides only causing you to grind against him harder, fluttering moans escaping your lips when you hit your spots just right. Keigo grunts, digging his nails in even harder. You work well to ignore him as you rake your fingers through his hair, traveling down his neck, to his shoulders and his scars.

You gently lift your hips, a sickly squelch when his cock pulls away from your cunt, you slam back down on him. Keigo gifts you a long, guttural moan, you feel his cock twitching more inside of you.

"I see how it is," he breathes, growling.

Keigo takes control of your movements by holding you with purpose. He raises his head to look at you as he lifts your body up and down, a calculating movement as he pumps his fat cock in and out of your throbbing wet pussy, ready for the finishing blow. You feel yourself clamp down hard on Keigo as he thrusts one last time, his cock spasming hard against the walls of your pussy, releasing his thick, white seed.

Your back arches against his arms, a searing white-hot sensation burns through your insides, your voice is coarse and barely recognisable as you moan his name through your wave of climax. You twitch and let out a soft cry as you collapse into him.

As you rest against Keigo, both of your bodies slick with sweat, he gently brushes a lock of hair away from your face. His eyes have a glassy look to them and you can only imagine you have the same fucked-out look on your face as he does.

"That's the song I like to hear."

183 notes · View notes

arthur-edwards · 3 years ago

Text

I have finished my first fanfic. It’s lewd and pretty long. Arthur Edwards x Female Reader. I welcome any criticism.

It’s been too long since you last saw the Constant. His busy schedule doesn’t allow for many intimate meetings with his favourite Providence operative but, finally, here he is and there you are kneeling naked in front of him. The guard down the hallway will ensure that nobody enters your office or even exits the elevator onto your floor. The two of you can be as loud as you want.

His fingers slide along your tongue while you purse your lips and suck. The feeling of pride that warms your chest when one of the world’s most powerful men smiles down at you is enough to make you swoon. Spit glosses your lips and keeps his fingers slick. Edwards palms the column straining the fabric of his pants and you notice a growing wet spot darkening the navy fabric. You suck faster, gazing up at him with doe eyes.

“Good girl. There we go,” he coos. “I think you’re ready for more. Are you ready for me, pet?”

He pulls out his fingers and your response is quick to follow.

“Yes, sir.”

The clinking of his buckle and the zzzzip of his pants sends a shiver down your spine. He pulls the waistbands down and his cock flops out as the clothing pools around his ankles. It’s obscenely large on his thin frame.

The first time you saw it was on the Isle of Sgail, and even through your mask he could see your apprehension. You hadn’t expected it to be that… substantial. He scoffed, and you had seen in his eyes how high he was on himself, but his face softened quickly. That night, he had been so gentle. In many ways, you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen before. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to take it all, and you hadn’t, but he praised you anyways, whispering into and kissing your ear while you lay cosy in his arms, falling asleep to the sound of waves lapping at the tower. Each time you met you got better and better at pleasing him, until it was a private source of pride how perfectly he fit inside of you.

You pepper kisses along the length and cup his balls. It’s as gorgeously speckled as the rest of his body and you press your lips to the spots, sucking lightly. Every freckle is shown love. You memorized where each one was a long time ago. But soon, Edwards places his hand on the back of your head and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that he needs more.

You wrap your lips around the pink head, savouring the salty taste of the clear sap that leaks from the tip. That’s much better; he sighs and runs his fingers through your hair. You work the head with your tongue, lapping all around and flicking his slit, drawing out hums of pleasure from the older man. All the while your hand slides up and down his length. You rotate your wrist with each pump, twisting from the bushy base to your lips, pausing to spit on your palm every so often. His balls hang heavy in your other hand and, ever so gently, you squeeze and massage the sensitive pouch.

His smooth thighs twitch as he breathes your name. Each time you slide your lips down his shaft, you take a little more of Edwards into your mouth. You gaze up at him, watching his eyebrows pinch and his jaw go slack at the sight of you.

“F-fuck, it feels so good. You’re so beautiful…” he whispers. His fingers rake through your hair, making your scalp tingle and sending sparks down your back.

Your eyes water while you lean in and slide him along the pad of your tongue.

“Relax your throat… that’s it, good girl,” Edwards coos. His knees wobble and his breath hitches as you take him further and further into your hot, wet mouth.

Before you know it your throat is bulging and your nose is nestled in his brown-grey curls. He’s not at all unclean, but there’s a natural musk that makes you swoon. Few people get close enough to notice the scent of his sea spray cologne. You’re the only one he trusts enough to allow even closer.

In one swift motion, you rear back and he slips out of your mouth with ropes of spit connecting the two of you.

“Breathe. There we go.” Edwards gazes down at you with soft eyes. “You’re doing so well, darling. You’re being so good for me…”

Your throat is sore and your jaw aches but you’re eager to hold him inside you again, to hear him moan in a way only you can make him.

The sunlight cast through the blinds illuminates the two of you in golden stripes. His groans and the rhythmic, wet noises from your mouth fill the office. He rasps encouragement as you bob your head and slide your fist along any part of him you’re not quite ready to take into your throat again.

Edwards is noisy. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t rob you of what you’ve earned. For that, you’re thankful. You feel every gasp, whimper, and whispered curse between your legs and soon you’re so wet that your upper thighs are slick. He doesn’t notice, not just yet. With a satisfied sigh, he cups your chin and guides you up off your knees. Maybe next time he’ll come in your mouth but today he has other plans.

When his fingers slip easily inside of you, his eyebrows raise. He gazes at you with that familiar, arrogant glint in his eyes. That smug look that disgusts others but makes you flood his fingers even more.

“So eager,” he purrs. “So needy.” He slides in and out, palming your swollen clit each time he enters. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallow hard, placing your hand on his chest, right by the dove pin, to steady yourself as his fingers plunge between your thighs.

“I want you to fuck me, sir. I want you to cum inside me. Please… I can’t wait any longer.”

Your breasts heave as you pant. They don’t escape his notice and with a firm hand he guides you onto your desk until its cool surface makes your bare skin tingle. He leans over you, keeping his rhythm between your legs while he reverently kisses your chest. Big, wet smooches. Sharp, sucking pecks.

Edwards takes each nipple into his warm mouth. He squeezes one breast and sucks the other, making the most delicious wet noises while his pink lips pucker around the buds.

“Arthur, please. Sir…”

He hums and the way it rumbles against your perked nipple makes your back arch. With a wet smack, his lips retreat and he withdraws his hand, fingers shiny with your arousal. It’s time to treat you to something better.

He sinks down to his knees and sighs between your legs.

“Such a pretty, little pussy. And so wet for me.”

He thumbs the hood back and flicks his tongue against your clit. The squeak he forces out of you makes him chuckle. With firm hands, Edwards grips your waist. He doesn’t want you to move, doesn’t want you to wiggle away as he buries his face into your warmth. He hungrily laps at your juices, smearing it all over his speckled cheeks and chin.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the Constant eat you out. He’s like a man possessed. Ravenous between your shaking thighs. Licking, sucking, and kissing you all over. He takes your swollen clit between his plush lips. The way you jerk and moan draws a lustful growl from Edwards that rumbles against your nub and has you squirming in his grasp.

You’re dangerously close to coming and it wouldn’t be the first time the Constant gave in to his cravings and made you come with his tongue before fucking you into another orgasm, but his cock is aching and he’s just as eager to fill you as you are to be filled. Still, he likes to tease.

It’s almost infuriating how slow he moves. How he grasps his cock and slides it all along your silky flaps, avoiding the areas that count. Lining it up against your relaxed entrance only to waggle and slap the head against your pussy. Taunting you with a devilish smirk while you obediently keep your knees to your chest, your ass at the edge of the desk, and your holes exposed for him.

He slides into you. Just when you think you can’t stand the anticipation any longer, he enters your cunt, deeper and deeper until his thighs press against your cheeks. He fills you completely in one slow thrust and it’s what you’ve wanted for so long that you can’t help but sob.

He pulls out slowly and slides back in. In and out, in and out, and you gaze up at his blue eyes wondering how you got so lucky. The Constant… the Constant. One of the richest, most powerful men in the world is murmuring praise to you as he seeks his release inside your body.

“You’re so pretty… and you’re all mine. You’re mine. God, yes, you’re mine.” Edwards whispers it over and over to you like a mantra. The thud thud thud of the desk lurching to his beat grows louder as he pounds into you.

“So beautiful. I’m gonna make you cum. You deserve it, y-yes… fuck you make me feel so good. It feels so good.”

He’s coming undone. Sweet nothings tumble from his lips and his hips buck wildly, thrusting into you with abandon and making your eyes roll.

Realizing that he’s fast approaching his climax, he reaches down and thumbs your clit, swiping it with just the right amount of speed and pressure because you truly are his and Edwards knows your body better than anyone else, and soon you, his prized possession, are coming, wailing and clenching so tightly around his cock that he yells.

His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth hangs open. As you shudder and bask in the rolling waves of pleasure, he shoots his load deep inside of you. You can feel him coating your walls, feel his cock pulse with each squirt. Your pussy throbs and squeezes him as the two of you moan.

The Constant slumps against your flushed body. His cock slips out of your warmth and he nuzzles his forehead into your cheek. His breath is as rapid as your own, but gradually your panting eases. You sigh. He raises his head to admire your face through hooded eyes and you pet him, running your hand from the high-widows peak down past the smooth patch of scalp on the back.

He has to leave for the airport soon. You both know it. You wrap your legs around him, regardless, hugging his slim waist with your thighs.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” And with the way he kisses you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he means it.

#arthur edwards

13 notes · View notes

whitecrowapothecary · 4 years ago

Text

Bottled Delights (3)

Jaskier is more than meets the eye, and Geralt learns how to communicate. I think.

Tag list: @love-more-today-than-yesterday

Read it on AO3 here!

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Geralt finds that their relationship… doesn’t really change much after his confession. Jaskier was never one to hide affections before, but now Jaskier is touching him constantly. A hand on his arm when he passes by, a kiss on his cheek whenever Geralt comes back from town. Geralt hasn’t slept a single night in his actual room, mostly because Jaskier says the bed is too comfortable to just ignore. Geralt doesn’t point out that the bed in his room is just as comfortable. The best part of their new relationship is the kissing. Jaskier might say the sex, and Geralt can’t deny it, but sex he’s had before. He hasn’t been able to kiss Jaskier before, not in any reality, so he finds his eyes drifting, watching the way that Jaskier talks or sings and looking away quickly when caught. Jaskier seems to delight in the attention, and he’s more than willing to kiss him when Geralt isn’t truly paying attention, just to bring him back.

They’re laying in bed, legs twined under the blanket and Jaskier laying practically on top of him. The night air blows through the room, raising goosebumps across Jaskier’s exposed back, but that could also be because of Geralt’s fingers, sliding featherlight over the bumps of Jaskier’s spine.

“Why don’t I get to go out on hunts with you?” Jaskier’s tone is airy, light, but Geralt can smell his disappointment.

“You could get hurt. Or recognized.”

“I’ve been on plenty of hunts before, for far more dangerous monsters than some nekkers, Geralt.” A pout begins to form on Jaskier’s face and Geralt’s hand slides up and down his back in soothing strokes. Jaskier relaxes against him, but his eyes are shadowed and Geralt frowns.

“Why do you want to see nekkers?”

“I don’t! I want-” Jaskier cuts off in frustration, forehead thumping against Geralt’s chest as he hangs his head and sighs. Geralt prods gently between Jaskier’s shoulder blades in a silent request, and Jaskier lifts his head after a moment. “I want to go out with you, not be stuck here waiting for you to get back. I want to see you fight, even if it’s just some stupid nekkers or spiders or or-”

“What happens if I can’t protect you, or a knight happens by and sees you?” Geralt’s other hand comes up to gently touch Jaskier’s neck. The bruises from their first night are long gone, but they’re fresh in Geralt’s mind, and Jaskier can tell with startling clarity that the witcher is scared.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t need protection?”

Geralt makes a noncommittal noise at that, gaze unfocused, and Jaskier sighs heavily. He tucks his head under Geralt’s chin, Geralt’s arms going around him more securely, knowing he won’t get much out of Geralt now. He’s seen it before, the way that Geralt loses focus when his past drags him down, and there’s almost nothing he can do to yank Geralt back to the present. He closes his eyes instead, knowing the best that can be done for either of them is a little sleep.

Jaskier wakes up with the sun, used to the routine, and finds Geralt already up, pacing. He’s in his armor, blades strapped across his back, and he turns when Jaskier shifts, holding out a silent hand. Geralt comes over, takes it in his and presses it to his lips as he crouches by the bedside. Jaskier hums sleepily, rolling fully onto his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, love. I pushed you too hard.” Geralt can feel guilt clawing in his stomach, and he doesn't like leaving Jaskier here, but he doesn’t know what he would do if a knight less understanding than Damien were to find the two of them in Toussaint. He’s surprisingly less worried about the monsters- Jaskier has seen many, read through Geralt’s bestiary more than once and knows the common ones on sight.

“I won’t take long. Back before lunch.” Jaskier hums, cupping Geralt’s cheek with the hand he still holds and drawing him in for a kiss. Geralt lingers for a moment longer than he should, and eventually Jaskier has to tell him to go. He ducks out of the house into the early dawn morning, heading for the stable where Roach has already been prepared. He lifts himself up into the saddle easily and sets off on the road away from the vineyard. As far as he knew it was just going to be a simple hunt- one that wouldn’t take him long at all, and would have disappointed Jaskier to watch.

It’s farther out than his other contracts have been, and closer to the city as well. He’d tried to say that, to tell Jaskier that, but the words had gotten too tangled in him and he hadn’t been able to find a way to get them out. Geralt rides through the morning, watching the sun rise in front of him as he heads east, further inland toward where the villagers had instructed him. The monster seemed far from any kind of civilization, but a contract was a contract and they’d need coin when they left in the spring. The trees begin to thin more the closer that they get, and Geralt stops when the scent of decay hits him. He leaves Roach near the treeline, not bothering to tie her. He’d rather she run away if a nekker gets too close than stay and be eaten. She’ll come back eventually.

He follows the scent further out of the treeline, and he breaks out into a clearing filled with nekkers. More than he’s ever seen before in one place. He swears colorfully, unsheathing his sword when the first one notices him. Nekkers are annoying at most, but Geralt counts at least twenty of them and large groups can be deadly alone. His only hope is going to be to isolate with his signs. Geralt cuts the first three down with relative ease, but they keep coming, swarming around him, and where Geralt dodges one another waits, slashing at him with sharp claws. His armor takes the brunt of it, but one slashes a gouge into his thigh and he grunts in pain. A blast of Aard gets most of them away from him and he doubles down, cutting through the crowd of them and whittling away at their numbers. He sees a flash of teal in his periphery, and he turns in surprise as Jaskier leaps nimbly back from the claws of a nekker and dispatches it with a long, sturdy dagger.

“Jaskier!” Geralt has no clue how he managed to keep up, or when he’d followed, but Geralt fights his way through the rest of the nekkers, using a small bomb to destroy the nest before storming over to where Jaskier stands, wiping his blade off on a piece of cloth before sheathing it. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, Geralt! You seemed like you could use some help.” Jaskier turns to him with a grin, but Geralt growls, scowling.

“How did you get here?”

“I walked? Really Geralt, I’ve kept up with you for years, doing it now is child's play.”

“I told you to stay home. They could have killed you.” Geralt takes a step closer, thigh protesting, and Jaskier’s gaze flicks down. He sees Jaskier’s pupils go wide and his nostrils flare.

“You’re hurt.”

“I will heal. If one of them had bitten you, you’d be dead Jaskier. You aren’t- built the same as I am.”

Jaskier’s eyes flick up to him, and for a second Geralt sees hurt flash over his face before anger replaces it. “I am well aware of our differences, Geralt. But I can handle nekkers, as you’ve just seen.”

Geralt growls, shaking his head. He isn’t sure how to get it through Jaskier’s damn head, and his heart is thundering at the thought of Jaskier being here. “Why don’t you listen to me?”

“Because I am tired of being left behind!” Geralt hides the flinch at the way that Jaskier’s voice raises, and he meets Jaskier’s glare with one of his own.

“I am not-”

“One day, Geralt, you are going to leave on a contract without me, and you won’t come back. And I don’t know what I’d do if I weren’t there to do something.” jaskier’s voice is fiery with his wrath, but his voice cracks at the end and Geralt can feel his anger freezing in his veins. Geralt takes a step forward, sighing heavily, and his eyes widen at the stench that hits him. He lunges forward as a shape blurs behind Jaskier, and he tries to yank him out of the way- but it’s too late. A grotesquely clawed hand punches through Jaskier’s chest, the sound of bone crunching resounding in Geralt’s ears. Jaskier looks down as if surprised, brow furrowing at the pain, and his hands come up shakily to touch the bloody claws still stuck through him. Geralt sees Jaskier grab onto them, as if holding them will keep him steady as blood blooms across his chest, staining the white chemise beneath.

“Jaskier-”

The sound that comes out of Jaskier’s mouth at the sound of his name is inhuman, and Jaskier jerks as the creature behind tries to yank its hand free. Jaskier’s hands stay steady, keeping the hand firmly stuck through his chest. “Geralt, I am going to say this as calmly as I can. I am not human. I would very much appreciate it if you would stop gawking and kill this thing.”

Geralt reels back, eyes widening, and he moves automatically on Jaskier’s command, as if he can’t control his own body. Geralt uses one quick slice to detach the beasts arm at the mid forearm and another to stab it through the heart, his silver blade coming away coated in black blood. When Geralt turns back he watches, detached, as Jaskier pulls the arm through his body, dropping it into the dirt with a scoff. Jaskier’s entire form seems to be wavering, shimmering like waves in the Toussaint sun. The wavering stops all at once, and years fall from Jaskier’s form like leaves in the fall. His wrinkles smooth away, his back straightens a bit, and he turns to Geralt, ever the youthful nineteen year old that Geralt remembers from Posada.

“That was my favorite doublet.” Geralt stares, horrified, as the hole in Jaskier’s chest knits itself back together, until all that’s left is the hole in his clothes and the red blood smeared across his skin. Geralt feels himself sagging, thigh protesting at holding him, and Jaskier reaches out to prop him up one handed. Geralt’s nostrils flare, an automatic bolt of apprehension shooting through him, and Geralt is backing up, out of Jaskier’s grip before he knows what he’s doing. “Geralt, please, I can- explain everything.”

“What are you?” Jaskier grimaces, whistling and waiting as Roach comes trotting up. He doesn’t answer until Geralt pulls himself up into the saddle, and he takes the reins to lead them home.

“A higher vampire.”

“Like Regis.” Jaskier’s head dips in a nod, and he glances every so often up at Geralt to ensure he’s still on his horse.

“Regis and I hail from the same clan. He’s a… well, for lack of a better word he’s like a brother to me.”

“How old are you?”

“Just shy of three hundred.” Jaskier’s voice is wry, and Geralt can see that Jaskier wants to say something about asking people their ages, but he refrains. The trek back to the vineyard seems to take half as much time as the trip out, and Geralt’s head is swimming from blood loss by the time they get back. Jaskier has to help him slide from Roach’s back, and he tucks one of Geralt’s arms over his shoulder as they hobble back inside. No one is in the house when Jaskier pushes open the door to Geralt’s room, depositing the witcher onto the bed. “Stay here.”

Geralt doesn’t have the strength to argue with him, and he instead works to shed his armor, leaving it on the floor. He’s panting by the time that’s done, and his fingers shake as he peels his pants off, snarling as the fabric pulls across his cut. He should have just cut them off, but if he can salvage them he’s going to. His thigh is a mess of blood and torn flesh, and he realizes with faint fear that his artery has been cut. How he’s made it back here is a feat in itself, and he’s staring numbly at his wound when Jaskier comes back. Geralt sees Jaskier pause, stumbling, and when he looks up Jaskier’s pupils are blown so wide he can no longer see the blue of Jaskier’s eyes. The bowl of water and towels is set hastily on the nightstand before Jaskier drops into a crouch beside Geralt, grabbing at his thigh and twisting it to get a better look. Geralt hears himself gasp in pain, but his head is growing fuzzy and his eyesight is fading.

“Jask-”

“You’re losing too much blood.”

“Already lost too much.”

“No. No. I can-”

“It’s okay.” Geralt reaches a shaking hand up to touch Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier leans into the touch.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier says, and Geralt wants to ask him what for, but then teeth are digging into his thigh and his pain increases tenfold. It only lasts a moment, and then cold spreads through his thigh. Geralt watches in morbid fascination as Jaskier pulls back, eyeing the cut and then licking a long stripe through the bloody mess. Geralt’s other thigh jerks in surprise, and he has no clue what Jaskier is doing but he does it again, and then again before sitting back and pressing a hand to his mouth. His fingers are trembling, covered in blood, but Geralt’s bleeding is already slowing, and he watches as his thigh heals until all that’s left is a long, pink scar. Jaskier brings the bowl of water close now and wipes the blood from Geralt’s skin, stripping off his boots and his ruined pants. His hands are gentle as he tucks Geralt into bed, and Geralt sees tears sliding through the blood still on Jaskier’s face, pink drops staining his shirt.

Geralt has heard about vampire saliva before- it’s a powerful healing aid, one near impossible to harvest. He’s never seen it in action, never had any reason to let a vampire get close enough to use it, but his fingers trace over the scar on his thigh over and over again. A hand smooths over his forehead, pushing his hair back, and Jaskier leans down, blue eyes locking with Geralt’s. “Sleep, love.”

Geralt’s eyes close before he can protest, and he slips into a black, dreamless sleep. He faintly realizes as he drifts off that Jaskier has coerced him, and he tries to feel angry, but the thought slips away from him.

His room is dark when Geralt wakes later that night, and he sits up in bed, pressing a hand to his thigh as a dull ache settles into his skin. “A bite will only take the pain away for so long.”

Geralt jerks at Regis’ voice, and he looks to see Regis leaning against the wall by the window. Geralt’s voice is rough as he talks, and he lays back in bed carefully. “How did you get here?”

“Jaskier summoned me. He needed someone to watch over you while you recovered.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“The blood.” Geralt remembers then, Jaskier’s pupils blown wide, mouth covered in blood, and his stomach twists harshly at the thought. He has no clue if Jaskier broke an oath by helping him, some personal creed, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to ask him. He can feel anger present as well, festering in the back of his mind, but he can’t quite put to words what is making him angry, so he tries to push it back.

“Where is he?”

“He needed some time to collect his thoughts. He should be back momentarily.” Regis steps away from the window, moving to stand by the bedside, and Geralt pulls himself up to a semi sitting position, propped up against the headboard. “Geralt, you are one of my dearest friends.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, and Regis reaches out to lay a hand on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Remember that when he comes back. And when you talk.” Geralt hums, nodding, and that’s the best that he can offer right now. Regis leaves him once he knows Geralt isn’t on the cusp of death, and Geralt spends the time he’s left alone to think. He idly rubs at the muscle of his thigh, trying to work the ache out and knee jumping every time he touches the sensitive scar. It will deaden eventually, hopefully, but even the brush of the blanket sends flares down to his toes and the sensation is uncomfortable. A knock sounds a bit later, and Geralt calls a soft ‘come in’ to allow whoever it is to step in. Geralt can already smell who it is, and his heart lurches in his chest. Jaskier is subdued, quiet when he steps inside, closing the door behind him and wringing his hands. He’s clean of blood and in a new change of clothes, but his eyes are shadowed and his steps measured as he comes closer.

“How does your thigh feel?” Geralt grunts, not wanting to say that it hurts, but Jaskier knows him too well and he nods, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I can numb it again, if you’d like.”

Geralt shakes his head, and Jaskier sighs, glancing up at him. He squirms under Geralt’s gaze, seeming more and more nervous, until he’s on the verge of babbling, and Geralt stops him before he can start. “You didn’t tell me.”

“How do you tell? Should I have said ‘Geralt, love of my life, I’ve been lying to you our entire lives, I’m a higher vampire.’ I- couldn’t.”

“Regis is my best friend.” Geralt points out, and Jaskier sighs in frustration, raking his fingers back through his hair and not caring when it stands up oddly.

“I didn’t know you knew him until you brought me to meet him. I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn’t find the right moment and-”

“You didn’t trust me.” There it is, what’s been gnawing at the back of Geralt’s mind. Anger rises in his throat, and his words come faster and faster until he’s choking on them. “You followed me for twenty years, and didn’t trust me enough with this secret. Watched me let others go, refused to kill them. And you lied to me.”

“I trust you with my life.” Jaskier snarls, dragging his hands down his face and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The part of Geralt that loves Jaskier wants to reach out and comfort him, but Geralt’s anger is a beast of its own and he can feel himself trembling with it. “But I- I’m a coward and how do you tell the witcher you’re madly in love with that you’re a monster?”

“With words. The things you claim to be so good with.” His words are cutting and he can see Jaskier flinch, but his heart hurts and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think. He doesn’t care that Jaskier is a vampire, doesn’t care that he isn’t human in the slightest. He just- wanted to be trusted. To share everything that he could with Jaskier. He withdraws into himself then, wanting to protect the gaping, bleeding wound in his chest. He doesn’t know what of Jaskier is a fable meant to make Geralt trust him and what’s real, and the though carves its way deeper into his chest. “Who are you? Really?”

“I don’t know.” Is all that Jaskier can say, and Geralt turns away from him then. Jaskier leaves the room without saying anything else, and his steps are silent where before Geralt knew them by heart. Geralt spends the day in his room, hiding away and unable to face anyone else. The pain in his thigh ramps up when he stands, and he practices footwork until he can’t bear his own weight anymore, and then he collapses back in bed. The pain is a welcome distraction, and Geralt sinks into the oblivion it brings, curling up in bed and fingers digging into the muscle so it won’t fade. He leaves the room at Marlene’s insistence on the second day, joining them at the breakfast table but hardly saying a word. B.B. seems worried, but knows better than to ask questions, and Marlene hugs Geralt until the man finally hugs her back, shuddering. She sees the horror in Geralt’s eyes that he won’t say, and she sends him out to the garden to harvest plants, telling him that doing work will do him some good.

The sun is warm on his back and for as muddled as his mind feels, being outside helps, and he picks all of the plants that are ready before retreating to the lab in the cellar. The sharp alchemical smell of the old equipment is familiar, and he spends the morning crafting as many potions as he can with the supplies on hand. His mind processes while he works, mulling over Jaskier’s words. He hasn’t seen the bard since Geralt sent him away, and his scent is stale throughout the house. He wonders where he is, if he’s safe, and it feels like a sword through the chest to think about how he’d pushed the man away. Geralt has to face what he is every day of his life, face the stares and the threats, but Jaskier.... Jaskier doesn’t. He blends in as easily as any human would, moving through the world invisible, outlasting friends and in constant fear.

No wonder Jaskier didn’t tell him. He’d pushed Jaskier away immediately, just like the man expected, and the vial in Geralt’s hand shatters in his grip when he thinks that. He really wasn’t any better than the humans that Jaskier has no doubt dealt with before. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to find Jaskier, to beg him to stay and apologize for being an ass. Geralt cleans up the mess that he made in the lab before heading inside for lunch. He’s sitting at the table, plate still in front of him when lavender fills his nose, sharp and new, and his head whips up. He follows the scent, but it’s everywhere and Geralt can’t pinpoint where it ends or begins. He checks the guest bedroom, but the sheets are freshly made, undisturbed, and Jaskier’s pack is still on top of the dresser where it belongs.

Geralt goes down to his room, hoping, praying, but Jaskier isn’t there either. The source of the scent seems to be a stack of books on his nightstand, a piece of paper folded on top. Jaskier’s scrawling, elegant script is obvious, and Geralt snatches the note up to read it.

You need time, and I aim to give it to you. You asked me who I was, and I couldn’t answer. Maybe these can.

Geralt’s gaze goes to the books and he picks the first one up off the top. It’s old, the pages yellowed and the spine protesting when he opens the cover. He looks through it, and most of it is in a language Geralt doesn’t understand. But there, near the end, it switches to common, and Geralt realizes with a shock that these are journals. Journals dating back almost three hundred years exactly. Geralt pours over the journals, wanting to know more, to hear Jaskier’s voice without him speaking.

The first journals from when he’s young are hopeful, optimistic, and Regis is talked about more than Geralt would have expected. It chronicles Jaskier’s lessons in controlling his emotions around humans, fighting the draw of blood, and hiding what he is. It mentions something about magnetism a few times, but Geralt isn’t sure if that’s referring to a vampire's inherent powers of coercion, so he tucks that away to ask Jaskier about later. Despite how old the journals are, Jaskier’s personality shines through in his words, the small snippets of complaints about Regis being hard on him, the lamenting of passing fashion or music. There’s plenty of music, scraps of paper tucked between pages with the names of songs or little snippets of sheet music that Geralt can’t read. Geralt lights all the candles in his room when it gets dark, unable to put down the journal he has laying in his lap.

Jaskier’s tone shifts around his 200th year, the joy fading from the pages. His words become melancholic, morose, and his journal entries become shorter and shorter. An entire year is missing before Jaskier writes again, and it’s only to lament his long lifespan. To point out how Regis refused to let him go. Geralt’s heart pounds at the insinuation within those words, and he finds himself reading faster and faster. The next entry is a short story about a ball that Jaskier went to, but in it Geralt can feel hope struggling to rise. Jaskier had finally played for an audience for the first time, and had been paid handsomely for it. Music begins to crop up intermittently, songs that Geralt knows vaguely from childhood. Songs that Jaskier wrote, published under a dozen different names. Then near the day that they’d first met in Posada, Jaskier bursts into multicolor life.

His journals are smaller, but the pages are chock full of stories- embellishments of Geralt’s heroics but also observations. Questions about Geralt that Jaskier never voiced aloud, little notes on what Geralt likes and dislikes. Drawings of him, of Roach, of various plants Geralt had pointed out for collection. The melancholy hanging around his earlier entries falls away entirely, and Geralt remembers half the conversations they’d had, Jaskier scribbling in his journal for no apparent reason. He’s staring at a drawing of his sword, rendered in incredible detail when he flips the page, eyes drawn to the entry.

Geralt talks in his sleep. Nothing that would embarrass him, but he calls out for his family. I hear him beg sometimes for people I know are dead, beg for people to make it stop. It breaks my heart to hear him this way, so sad, but when I ask in the morning he looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. I suppose I overstep too much.

Geralt frowns at that. He had nightmares frequently, but he didn’t know he talked. Didn’t know that Jaskier was even awake to hear him. Though, as a vampire he doesn’t really need sleep, and judging by how full the journals are, he spent more time writing or drawing than ever sleeping. He skims through the newer journals, knowing most of what happened between the two of them, but lingers on the newest entries. The ink is fresher, darker, and they’re dated only a couple weeks ago.

Geralt took me to a cemetery today. I wanted to call him crazy, because what would we possibly find in a cemetery? But we found more than I could have expected. Regis is here, in Toussaint, and apparently good friends with Geralt. Knowingly. Geralt doesn’t seem to care that he’s a higher vampire, and that should be good, right? So why does my heart pound at the thought of telling him?

More is added later, and Geralt’s heart kicks up in his chest.

He loves me. I know it now, after their conversation while I was carried home. How can I continue this sham, lying to him? I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I have to tell him in the morning when he wakes. If I don’t, I fear I never will, and he deserves better. So much better.

The last entry in the journal is longer than others, and he flips past just to make sure there isn’t anymore before he reads. It almost feels like an invasion to read Jaskier’s thoughts, but they’re all he has at the moment and reading them seems easier than making Jaskier talk.

He kissed me today. I wanted to tell him, but his touch was so soft and my coward’s heart buckled. His lips are as tender as I’ve always imagined, and I found myself kissing him back before I could tell him to wait. I worry for him when he goes off on his own, and I want nothing more than to yell at him, to shake him and tell him there is no way he’ll lose me to a monster. That the only one in danger is him. He’s the best man that I’ve ever met, and the day that he finally leaves this world is the day that I leave it too. I love him too much to endure after he’s gone, and I only hope that if he goes, I’m there to send him off. To hold him in his last moments, to kiss him and tell him it will all be okay. Oh, to kiss him. I have to do it more, as much as I can, because if I don’t I fear I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.

He feels tears escape him then, and he wipes them away quickly, breath shuddering in his chest. He closes the journal, tucking it back with its brothers, and hears soft footsteps on the floor outside his room. They linger by his door, the scent of lavender and sadness drifting to him. Geralt is up and out of bed before he can doubt himself, and he nearly rips the door off the hinges opening it.

“Jaskier.” Geralt breathes, staring wide eyed as Jaskier freezes in the middle of the room, near the door. He looks haggard, dark shadows under his eyes and hair a mess.

“Geralt. I was just-”

Geralt is moving forward, feet carrying him unconsciously. His hand comes up to cup the back of Jaskier’s head, and he’s kissing the bard without another thought. Jaskier freezes, making a soft, wounded sound against his lips, and Geralt shudders. He’s still moving, doesn’t stop until Jaskier’s back hits the wall and Geralt presses him bodily into it. Jaskier arches up against him then, hands scrabbling to grab onto Geralt’s shoulders as Geralt hoists him up into his arms. Jaskier’s thighs are snug and warm around his hips, and Geralt kisses him harder, lapping into his mouth and tasting the moan that escapes. Jaskier uses a hand to shove them away from the wall while the other buries in Geralt’s hair, and Geralt finds himself stumbling back, holding Jaskier’s full weight in his arms easily. Jaskier’s thighs flex around him, lift him slightly so that Geralt has to tilt his head back to kiss him properly.

Geralt hears furniture scraping across the ground as Jaskier’s fingers twitch, and he’s guided back into his room, the door slamming and locking behind them. Jaskier kisses him greedily, like this is the last chance he’ll get, and Geralt responds in kind. He presses Jaskier up against the door and Jaskier moans into his mouth, grinding against him and tugging at his hair. Geralt pulls back then, huffing a laugh when Jaskier chases him.

“Jaskier- hold on-”

“For what?” Jaskier’s voice is breathless, and he looks as gorgeous as he did twenty years ago and Geralt’s heart constricts, threatening to burst.

“I can’t- do this without- apologizing.”

“You don’t-’

“I do,” Geralt interrupts, cupping Jaskier’s cheek and brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. “I pushed you away. I was in shock and- I was awful to you.”

“It wasn’t as if I didn’t deserve it.” Geralt shakes his head, kissing Jaskier again and pressing their foreheads together. Jaskier pants softly, lips parted, and Geralt can see that his teeth are pointy and sharp, just like Regis’. How he never noticed before with how much Jaskier smiled he doesn’t know.

“You didn’t. You don’t. I read the journals.” Jaskier’s eyes flick over to the neat stack on the nightstand, and his eyes are scared when he meets Geralt’s gaze again. “I know who you are. Always. It was cruel of me to say anything otherwise. Will you- forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me for being so foolish for so long.”

“Done.” Jaskier laughs then, relieved, and Geralt tilts his head to kiss the laughter from his lips. This time when they fall in bed together, hands roaming and lips kiss bruised, it’s with new eyes. Geralt explores Jaskier slower, holds him tighter and presses deep into him. Jaskier shakes in his lap, trembling and twitching with each feeling, and Geralt chases the experience of leaving Jaskier speechless. Geralt doesn’t let Jaskier get far, even when they’re done, and he sleeps with Jaskier tucked against his side.

-*-

He wakes to slow, soft kisses being pressed into his neck, and he arches to allow Jaskier more room to work. Jaskier hums in thanks, taking his time to explore, and Geralt slides fingertips up and down Jaskier’s side lazily.

“How did you hide so long?” The question has been in his head for days now and Jaskier chuckles, smiling against Geralt’s skin. He nibbles at a particular sensitive spot, making Geralt gasp, and his fingers press into Jaskier’s ribs in warning. Jaskier kisses the spot in apology, and goes up onto an elbow to look down at Geralt.

“Magnetism.”

“You mentioned it in your journal.”

“Mhmm. It allows me to cloak my features, make people see what I want them to see.”

“Isn’t that something all higher vampires can do?” Jaskier shakes his head, smiling.

“No. Remember from your bestiary? Each higher vampire has an innate ability-”

“That makes them unique and impossible to classify. Like Dettlaff’s herd mentality.” Geralt can feel sleep sliding from him, and he grows more and more interested when he sees the grin on Jaskier’s face.

“Precisely.”

“Explain it?” Geralt phrases it as a question, but he’s curious and it sounds more like a command than anything. Jaskier laughs though, leaning down to kiss Geralt softly before he settles against Geralt’s side.

“I can manipulate how others see me, how they perceive me. I use it as sparingly as I can, really. It’s a lot of work to keep up, so I don’t go over the top with it. Wrinkles for the most part, because a human who doesn't age is suspicious.”

“You aren’t using it now.”

“No. I don’t think I have to.” Jaskier’s voice quirks as if asking should I be? and Geralt hums softly. “Let me show you. Give me the name of someone we know.”

“Triss.” Jaskier raises a brow, but Geralt shrugs. “She looks the least like you.”

Geralt sits up with Jaskier, and he watches as that same heat-like shimmer overtakes Jaskier. Only this time it isn’t kept to his face; it envelops him completely, and when it subsides Triss sits before him, curly hair loose around her shoulders and an arm clasped over her chest. Geralt reaches out to tug on a strand of hair, and his lips part in surprise when he actually feels the strands between his fingers. Triss shimmers again, and the illusion slips away, leaving Jaskier in her place.

“Making people see is one thing. Making them feel, and believe? That’s an art all it’s own.”

“Does that carry over to your music?”

Jaskier scoffs, offended, and he gives Geralt a withering look. Geralt raises his hands in surrender and Jaskier huffs. “No. Music is something that I happen to be good at.”

“I have another question.”

“And you haven’t asked yet?” Geralt hesitates, unsure of if he really wants to, but Jaskier prods him gently and he takes Jaskier’s hand in his.

“When I woke up, after the fight. Regis was here. He said you needed to clear your head because of the blood.” Jaskier hums, goading him on, and Geralt can feel heat rising up his neck and onto his cheeks. “Do you- have the same problem that Regis does?”

Jaskier is quiet for a moment before he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on Geralt’s neck. “No. I don’t drink if I can help it. It doesn’t appeal to me much.”

“Then, when you uh, licked my wound?”

“That’s different.” Jaskier’s voice is defensive, and Geralt finds heat pooling in his stomach when Jaskier noses at his neck and takes a deep breath. “You appeal to me. Very much so.”

“And if I- wanted to let you?” Jaskier’s lips quirk in a smile against his skin, and Geralt shudders when sharp teeth just barely prick at his skin.

“Then we’ll have to empty the house.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #higher vampire jaskier #chapter update!#gore #depictions of violence

28 notes · View notes

frywen-bumbles · 4 years ago

Text

No More, Please...

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Relationship: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Word count: 5739

More warnings and tags on AO3

Written for Whumtober 2020 prompt:

No 6. Please... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

"Geralt, you're back!"

"Run," Geralt grits through his teeth, stalking closer, his movements stilted, wrong.

"Don't be an idiot, you're obviously hurt, let me help." Jaskier steps closer, lifting his hand to help Geralt sit down. Or that was his intention. Geralt grabs his arm and flings him against a tree hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and before he can even take a breath a hand on his throat pins him to the tree.

"I told you to run," Geralt growls against his neck, nosing under Jaskier's ear, burying his face in Jaskier's hair. The stubble on his chin tickles and Jaskier tries to squirm away, only to be held tighter, a knee pressing between his legs and he can feel something hard against his thigh.

"Ah, Geralt, not that I'm not enjoying myself but what's going on? Are you hurt? Didn't we need to flee?"

"You..."Geralt growls and of all things Jaskier thought he would do, licking his neck was definitely not one. "Smell too good..."

"Geralt...?" Jaskier tries again, trying to push Geralt's hand away, only for him to hold on tighter, choking him, "Geralt, please, you're hurting me...?" he manages to wheeze as he hangs on Geralt's hand, trying and failing to push it away, panic creeping on him as the witcher stays as immovable as ever.

"This was a perfectly fine chemise, you brute!" Jaskier tries his best to be angry instead of scared but the panic starts to raise its ugly head as Geralt's hand travels down his bare chest gripping his waist hard enough to bruise. He's not one to deny lovers even if they want to be rough, but this is not Geralt.

Geralt is always gentle, minding his strength around normal people. Minding his strength around Jaskier, his touch soft, gentle, like he's afraid Jaskier would break. He would never hurt Jaskier, not intentionally.

"Ah...!" Kisses which are more teeth than lips pepper his neck, his throat, his cheek, his shoulder as soon as Geralt rips the offending fabric out of the way and it feels so good, Jaskier wants to sink onto this feeling clouding his thoughts.

But this is wrong. Something is wrong with Geralt and he can't ignore it even if the hands and lips on his naked skin make him want, make his skin burn with desire like nothing he has ever felt before, make him want to be devoured whole.

"G-Geralt... please, stop..." he whines and is rewarded with a bite strong enough to draw blood and the jolt of pain brings him back to his senses, the earlier panic raising its head again as he cries out in pain.

"Can't," Geralt grits out and licks the blood dribbling down Jaskier's throat and grinds on him, the silver studs of his armour digging into Jaskier's exposed skin and Jaskier shivers but not from arousal.

"Geralt, Geralt, please, talk to me, I'm really not into this and I would very much prefer if you'd let me go right this instant so I can run away as fast as I can just as you suggested, but plea- ahh!" His rambling is interrupted by Geralt pushing a gloved hand into his pants and squeezing his arse.

"Can't... a curse..." Geralt kisses up Jaskier's cheek and Jaskier knows, can feel the exact moment the witcher tastes the first tear on his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know you don't want me... you don't want this..."

"...I do. I do want you..." Jaskier admits, his voice barely a whisper. But he knows Geralt can hear him, can feel him relax just the tiniest bit. "...But not like this... please..."

"Can't..." Geralt chokes out, "can't stop... Thought I'd reach a whore house... but smelled you... I'm sorry..."

Geralt sounds pained, his hands still but his lips keep kissing every bit of skin he can reach like he can't be apart from Jaskier, from his smell, whatever that means. Jaskier can feel Geralt tremble with the effort of staying still, his rock hard cock rocking gently on Jaskier's hip and Geralt whines, a small pained sound. That's what breaks Jaskier, breaks his heart, breaks his resolve. No matter how scared he is, Geralt is in pain. And if there's anything he can do to help he will.

"...It's okay. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't." Geralt whispers in his ear, biting his earlobe, his sharp fangs grazing at the sensitive skin ever so gently.

"I know..." Jaskier draws a sharp breath when Geralt noses behind his ear and buries his face in his hair, "What would... what if you stopped?"

"Can't," Geralt grits through his teeth, "the smell of you drives me crazy... I can't control it... I thought you'd run and... almost lost it..."

"But whoever made the curse, they must have said something? Could I like, give you a blowjob and be done with it?"

"That bastard... wanted me to slaughter the entire village..."

"And instead you just what? Became horny? What the fuck? How does that even work?"

"Jaskier, please... I need... I'm so sorry, I can't... I don't want to hurt you... I feel like I'm losing my mind... Fuck...!" Geralt sounds needy, grinding against Jaskier, every muscle in his body trembling. And still, the hand which strokes Jaskier's cheek is gentle, wiping away the tears. A stark contrast to his other hand, gripping Jaskier's arse with need, pressing himself more firmly against the bard.

"If you could... there's oil in my bag... please..."

"You shouldn't..."

"Geralt you're literally holding my arse hostage. If we're doing this I'd much rather enjoy myself," Jaskier says with as much bravado as he can muster. It's not much. Especially when his voice wavers. He has no idea what he has promised himself into. But Geralt needs him, needs him more and more and who is he to deny him.

Geralt drags him to their bags, his hand curled firmly behind his neck, like an animal dragging its young where they belong and as much as Jaskier wants to touch Geralt, to ease the pain he seems to be in, he has priorities. He unlaces his trousers as fast as he can. They are very nice trousers, no need to ruin them just because some idiot cursed his witcher horny. He only hopes there's still something left of him after tonight to wear the trousers again, but that's a worry for the morning him, not the current him.

He barely has time to step out of the fabric pooling at his ankles before he's pushed against a tree, face first, and a generous amount of oil is poured over his arse. Geralt pins him against the tree and he can feel the witcher's massive cock press against his arse and he won't survive this. He can't even see but even feeling the cock against him tells him there is no way he'll walk away from this unscathed.

"G-Geralt...?" he tries, not daring to even hint at escaping, the witcher's earlier words clear on his mind. He will not survive if Geralt loses it. Even if being fucked to death sounds great in theory, that is no way how he wants to end his days, thank you very much. So he stays very still, trying to relax while a very large, very strong man grinds against him, intending to fuck him until whatever curse this is has run its course.

"I'm sorry..." Geralt whispers in his ear as he pushes Jaskier's legs together, his oiled cock slipping between them the same time a well-slicked finger pushes into his hole, too fast, too much and too little at the same time, the finger pushing deeper on every thrust of Geralt's hips.

"I'm so sorry..." Geralt whispers again, while biting his ear as another finger pushes in, working him open, stretching his slick hole and it feels good but also too much, and it's definitely too much when a third and then fourth finger slips into him, and Jaskier cries out but Geralt doesn't let up, doesn't slow down, but he apologises over and over again and Jaskier can't even reply, all he can think of is the stretch in his hole, of the fingers, the hand slipping in in-sync with the thrusts of Geralt's cock between his thighs.

Geralt bites hard down his shoulder, muffling his groan and Jaskier feels him spill on his thighs and he thinks he can get a moment but to his horror, Geralt stays rock hard even after all his seed has spilt.

"I'm sorry..." Geralt murmurs again as he lines his cock against Jaskier's hole and kicks his legs apart, spreading his cheeks wide and pours more oil. Geralt grips tight on Jaskier's hips so he couldn't run even if he wanted to and he sheaths his entire slick length in on one push and Jaskier cries out, digs his hand on the tree to hold onto something as Geralt slams into him again and again, his cock so hard and big fingers could have never prepared him enough even if they had more time.

It's too much.

Too much.

He can't take it.

He thought he could, but he can't. It's too much.

"Get it out, stop, please...!" Jaskier sobs, desperately trying to relax despite the onslaught, but Geralt only holds his hips tighter, pulls his ass up and fucks into him harder than anyone has ever before and growls.

In any other circumstances, Jaskier would find it hot. So hot. But now? Being devoured by a cursed witcher? He does not. It makes shivers run down his spine and Geralt must have felt it because the bruising grip he has on Jaskier's hips eases and he leans to kiss between his shoulder blades despite maintaining the brutal harsh rhythm.

"Can't... stop... sorry..." Geralt grits out and Jaskier feels as he trembles. This is not Geralt's fault, he reminds himself. Or tries to. But it's hard. Despite Geralt not being the cause of it, it's still Geralt's body holding him down, Geralt's cock slamming painfully hard into him and no amount of kisses on his back will make it better.

"G-Geralt it hurts..."

"I'm sorry... I'm trying... I'm so sorry..." Geralt sounds pained, sad and it breaks Jaskier's heart, but it hurts and he can do nothing but to try to stay still and hold onto the tree.

"Please... no more... please..." Jaskier pleads with every thrust but the onslaught just keeps going until finally after Jaskier doesn't even know how many pleases Geralt stiffens behind him and thrusts one last time.

Jaskier could cry. He thinks he does when he falls to his knees on the ground as soon as Geralt lets go of him. Geralt tumbles after him, turning his face towards him, hands on his cheeks, frantically wiping the tears still falling.

"Jaskier? Jaskier? I'm so sorry I never meant to hurt you, I never wanted this to happen, blame me all you want, I deserve it, I'm so sorry.., I'm so sorry.., I'm so sorry.., I'm so sorry..."

Jaskier looks up, at golden eyes staring at him with pupils blown wide, worry and terror and guilt written all over his stoic face and he wants to do nothing but relieve those feelings but he can't. He can't, the horror of the situation is still firmly on his mind and he can feel himself tremble, the torn chemise bringing no warmth to his bruised skin and he hugs himself, willing to take any comfort he can.

"Is it over...?" Jaskier asks, his voice a hoarse whisper he knows Geralt can hear.

"...No. It isn't. This is all my fault. If I... if we survive this you'll never have to see me again."

"I... Geralt, that's not what I want. This is the fault of... of whoever made that curse... but please... I can't... not like that, not again, please... I could run now, be as far as I can before the curse takes a hold of you again... could I?"

"...No. It's... I could kill you if you run. Even the idea..." Geralt growls, a deep sound in his chest and he collects Jaskier in his arms, gently, carefully, but giving Jaskier no way to escape. "I can't... you should hate me..." Geralt buries his face in Jaskier's hair and Jaskier revels in the moment, just for a while, it feels safe to be held in strong arms, in the arms which have protected him more times he can count, in the arms of the man he has loved for so long.

The moment is all too short.

Jaskier can feel Geralt's cock poking at his thigh, ready for another round and Geralt holds him just a bit tighter, kissing his hair, drawing soothing circles on his back, hand securely over his chemise as he whispers, "I'm so sorry... I'll be gentle this time... as much as I can, I promise..."

Geralt lifts Jaskier carefully off the ground, grabbing the bottle of oil and lays him out on his bedroll. He slicks up two fingers and pours more oil on Jaskier's abused hole, massaging gently on the rim. Jaskier can feel every muscle in his body tighten, anticipating the pain sure to come. But Geralt leans forward and presses his forehead on his, hand flat on the bedroll beside Jaskier's waist and hushes him like a frightened animal and somehow it works.

Jaskier spreads his legs wider, giving Geralt more space to work and given how sore he is, it takes surprisingly little time for Geralt to insert one finger without any pain. Geralt loosens him gently, methodically and soon three fingers are in him, spreading him, preparing him for the onslaught sure to come.

Jaskier almost cries when Geralt's fingers leave him. They felt so good, so gentle and he was so relaxed, so turned on, but all good things must come to an end.

"Geralt..." Jaskier gasps when the witcher grabs his legs to spread them even wider and Geralt looks so pained, so guilty, his fingers pressing too tight on Jaskier's skin and Jaskier can see the sweat beading on the witcher's forehead, can see the painfully hard cock between his legs. "It's okay... I forgive you."

"You shouldn't..." Geralt murmurs and closes his eyes. "We don't have to... when you can see me. Or do it any way you can feel it's easiest to relax."

"This is alright, Geralt. Come here." Jaskier reaches his arms and Geralt falls into his embrace surprisingly fast. He trembles in Jaskier's arms, even when he lines his cock with Jaskier's hole and pushes it inside, slowly, only a little bit at a time before he pulls out again and with every slow, shallow, gentle push Jaskier can feel him tremble more and when finally, after what feels like an eternity, at least for Jaskier who is so slowly and carefully worked open, Geralt whines, a sound full of pain and restraint about to snap, his cock almost fully sheathed in Jaskier.

"Jaskier, Jaskier... I need... I'm sorry... I..."

"Hush, it's okay," Jaskier cups Geralt's cheek, trying to soothe him, trying to ease his guilt and Geralt grabs his leg, lifting it up under the knee, pushing deep, deep inside of him, and Jaskier cries out, the feeling somewhere between pain and pleasure and something seems to shift in Geralt who thrusts again, just as hard, just as deep making Jaskier cry out with every thrust.

"Geralt...! Geralt! Just a little slower, please, I can't... I'm..." he doesn't even know what he's trying to say, just that it's too much.

"I'll try... I'm so sorry... Jaskier..." Geralt soothes him, presses their foreheads together and pounds into him just as fast, just as hard and Jaskier moans, tears falling to his cheeks, his hard cock rubbing against Geralt's jerkin.

"Ah! Geralt... please... please...!" Jaskier's not even sure what he pleads, just that he needs, wants, desires.

"Can I..." Geralt starts but Jaskier grabs him, holds his cheeks in his palms, buries his fingers in Geralt's hair and tugs.

"What... what do you need?" Jaskier manages to choke out and opens his eyes to look at Geralt. The witcher looks guilty, sad, pained and it breaks Jaskier's heart.

"Can I... can I kiss you?" Geralt asks, so ready to be dismissed, to be rejected.

"Only... only if you really mean it... I can't... not if you don't mean it..." Jaskier says, not expecting anything to happen. But Geralt kisses him, desperate, passionate, like he wants, needs to devour Jaskier whole and he pulls Jaskier to sit up in his lap, still impaled on his cock and he holds Jaskier's hips still, pushing up, up incredibly deep, his lips never leaving Jaskier's lips, not even when he tangles his hand in Jaskier's hair and holds him still and there's not a hair's width between them and the silver studs dig into Jaskier's skin but he doesn't mind because Geralt is kissing him.

Geralt is kissing him and fucking so deep into him Jaskier feels like he'll lose his mind, like at that moment he would do anything Geralt asks of him, anything to make this moment last longer, to make Geralt his if just for tonight.

He has no words, no desire to speak, all he wants to do for eternity is to kiss Geralt, kiss Geralt until he knows nothing else and he whimpers, whines into the kiss.

Geralt pulls back like struck. "I'm so sorry..." he pulls Jaskier to him, burying his face in Jaskier's hair and Jaskier can hear his ragged breath in his ear even though all of the moans every thrust forces out of him.

"Geralt... Aah...! Geralt..." Jaskier moans and grasps Geralt's hair to tug him back, to look at him and he comes willingly, his eyes so full of guilt Jaskier can't take it. "Can I... a-ah! Can I take off your- Ah! Your clothes... It's awfully unfair... Ah! Unfair to be the only one... the only one naked...!"

While he is, in fact, not fully naked, the torn chemise still on his shoulders, he knows Geralt will not point it out. Instead, Geralt lets go of his hair and Jaskier hurries to hold his hands around Geralt's neck, as Geralt strips surely and efficiently and soon Jaskier can feel the witcher flush against him, his cock getting trapped between them as Geralt renews his hold, pulling Jaskier as close as he can.

Jaskier tangles his hands in Geralt's hair and kisses him fully on the lips, moaning into his mouth with every thrust and he's so close, so close.

Jaskier pulls Geralt's hair and he can feel the witcher tremble, a moan escaping his lips between kisses and Jaskier can't help himself. He reaches between them and takes his cock in his hand, stroking in sync with every thrust and he can feel Geralt lose it when he squeezes around the cock inside of him. Geralt grabs his hips and slams into him, holding him still in a bruising grip but Jaskier doesn't mind, all he can think about is the pleasure building inside of him, of the cock ramming into him, of the witcher kissing him, devouring him and he comes, spilling his seed between them, screaming.

Geralt doesn't let up, not even when Jaskier can feel cum drip from him with every thrust, the witcher holding him like his life depends on it. And maybe it does, Jaskier still hasn't got the slightest clue what the curse was about, only that whoever cast it wanted Geralt to murder an entire village.

"Geralt... Geralt... Geralt... I need... I need a break..." Jaskier begs, digging his nails in Geralt's shoulder, trying to hold on, to stay sane when every hard thrust hits him just painfully right, his body trying to respond in vain, the overstimulation making his eyes water and he cries out when Geralt tightens his hold, his teeth grazing his throat a low growl rising from deep within the witcher's chest.

"No..." Geralt growls, this time with words and sinks his teeth in Jaskier's throat, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and as hot as that is, as much as Jaskier has fantasised of those teeth in his throat, he cries out in pain.

Geralt looks up, startled, and Jaskier can do nothing else but to kiss the sadness, the guilt away from the witcher's lips, holding onto Geralt as best as he can even when he feels like everything is too much, too fast, too... everything and he knows he whines, whimpers into the kiss but still, despite that, despite everything he never breaks the kiss, not even when he feels Geralt stiffen under him and push into him the last few times and he could cry with relief.

Geralt all but collapses on the bedroll, Jaskier underneath him, all that's preventing the mountain of a man crushing Jaskier are Geralt's forearms beside his head, his elbows on the ground and Jaskier can feel Geralt's breath on his face, small, fast puffs of air.

Jaskier looks up. Geralt's eyes are closed, sweat glistening on his furrowed brow, his breath ragged like he'd run ten miles with a gryphon chasing him.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks. Geralt doesn't answer, doesn't acknowledge him but Jaskier keeps going, "Geralt, are you alright?"

Geralt hums in response and shifts, his softening cock slipping out of Jaskier and collapses next to him, nuzzling his hair, an arm slung lazily over his waist.

Jaskier lies very still.

He doesn't dare to move, frightened he'll awaken the witcher from his slumber. His body feels like it's wrung dry, like he wrestled with a witcher... which he sort of did. Wouldn't mind doing again. But in very different circumstances.

A snore at his side startles Jaskier out of his thoughts and he dares to take a peek. Geralt looks peaceful. The light of the dying flames of their campfire illuminates his white hair, half of his gorgeous face and Jaskier can't help but admire him.

"I forgive you, my wolf..." he whispers, running his fingers whisper-light on Geralt's cheek. Geralt doesn't even flinch. He's deep asleep, more relaxed Jaskier has ever seen him. Even in his haze, Jaskier notes, Geralt has set himself between Jaskier and the forest, providing defence from whatever might lurk in these woods.

Valiant, Jaskier admits.

But tonight, the scariest thing lurking in the forest is the cursed witcher fast asleep next to him and despite what he wants to feel, Jaskier is scared, terrified, of what might happen if Geralt woke up again. Terrified of how long the curse will last, of what would end the curse.

He makes it to the other side of the camp, trousers barely on (after all one cannot run around the woods naked) before he's caught, tackled to the ground by a deadly silent attacker. He doesn't have time to scream, to protest, to make the terror freezing his body known before he hears a growl, a deep sound no human should be able to make, despite the clearly human hands holding him down by the scruff of his neck, despite the human hands ripping his trousers to his knees.

"Geralt...?" Jaskier tries, only to be responded with another growl and icy cold dread freezes him, tells him to run, to escape from the monster behind him and he tries.

Oh, how he tries, his fingernails chipping when he claws the ground, claws the hands holding him down, kicks behind him but it's all in vain.

"Geralt!" Jaskier tries again, desperate, but all he gets as an answer is a growl. "Geralt, please... please..." Jaskier begs, begs as his ass is hoisted up, begs as his cheeks are spread to reveal his hole.

"...Please..." it turns into a moan as a wet flat tongue licks him as if to taste.

"Please... please..." Jaskier begs, moans as he is slowly, meticulously licked, teased, fucked with a tongue, held firmly in place by strong hands and it feels so good.

Jaskier would rock his arse into Geralt's face, but he's locked in place, forced to take anything Geralt wants to give him and he whines, whines with fear, with lust, with frustration, with confusion all at once. He can't move to touch his aching cock but it doesn't matter because Geralt fucks his tongue into his hole and he comes undone, crying aloud as his cum spills to the dirt.

He doesn't even realise the witcher has moved behind him, too focused on his afterglow, on the pleasure still running through his veins and suddenly, it's too much.

"Geralt! G-Geralt no, it's too much... too much, I... I can't... I'm only a human... please stop, please, please... no more, please..." Jaskier knows he's blabbering, knows half of the words he's saying won't even make sense but he can't.

Geralt's knee is firmly between his legs, pushing them apart as much as the fabric of his trousers bunched at his knees allow, his cock already halfway in Jaskier's spit slicked hole, rocking back and forth, every thrust going in deeper, deeper until Geralt is balls deep in Jaskier and Jaskier cries out.

"Please, Geralt... please, please, get it out, I can't... I can't anymore... please..."

Geralt growls again, but this time, there are words, or at least a word, "Mine..."

"Yes...! Yes! I'm yours but I can't, it's too much...!"

Somehow, Jaskier buries his face in his arms to muffle his cries, his moans and whimpers and whines. To hide his shame and fear and confusion at the utter betrayal of his body, of his mind because he enjoys this, enjoys the rough hands on him, enjoys the borderline painful overstimulation and above all when Geralt called him mine he was sure he was losing it.

A hand on his hair tugs hard, pulls hard enough to force his head up from the safety of his arms and Geralt leans over him, bracing his weight on the ground, hand on the ground behind Jaskier's arm so he can't move and the new angle hits him just right, tears streaming down his face at the overwhelming pleasure, lust and when Geralt growls in his ear only a single order Jaskier is sure he will die.

"Sing."

Jaskier cries, moans, screams. Every sound he makes drives Geralt on, his cock slamming hard into Jaskier, hard and fast, the hand on his neck holding him tight enough he couldn't escape even if he tried, even if he wanted to.

"I'm yours... I'm yours... please... have mercy..." he begs and moans, Geralt's breath hot on his shoulder and he knows Geralt can hear him, can hear every plea, every affirmation, every sound he wrings out of him.

Jaskier doesn't even know what he's saying, if he's saying anything at all, but he obeys his witcher, sings, until his voice is hoarse, until his body can't take it anymore, until everything turns black.

***

Jaskier wakes up, slowly, blinks his eyes open, trying and failing to understand what he's seeing. He's not in their camp. He's not in fact outdoors at all, but in a decent straw bed, in a warm house. A woman is sitting next to him, watching over him, but it's not her he wants to see.

The woman sees he's awake and points towards a corner.

Geralt.

Geralt sits in the corner, deep in meditation, no emotion visible on his face.

"Is he..." Jaskier's throat feels raw, the pain stabbing him with every word but he forces it down. He doesn't know what he wants to ask. Obviously, Geralt looks okay, looks unharmed.

The silence stretches on and Jaskier tears his eyes away from Geralt, to look at the woman. She has a frown between her brows and she looks sad as she pets his hair with gentle strokes.

"I can help you. Whoever did this to you, you can't go back to them. You were lucky the witcher found you and brought you here. I will give you everything you need and help you to leave, okay?"

"I... It's not like that..." Jaskier tries to deny, his voice rasping in his throat but the woman's eyes turn sharp.

"It never is. Until it is the next time. And the next."

Jaskier looks over at Geralt who hasn't moved an inch. But Jaskier can see he's no longer meditating, but listening to every word as carefully as if he were on a monster hunt.

"How long... how long do I have to stay?" he asks, dreading the answer. Sure Geralt is here now, but in an hour? Tomorrow?

"At least a couple of days. You took quite a beating, it'll take a while for you to heal."

"No, I need to..." Jaskier tries to get up, but moving hurts, hurts everywhere, in places he didn't know could even hurt, in muscles, he didn't know he had and cries out.

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul you're here, no matter who comes to ask."

Jaskier isn't looking at the woman, his eyes are fixed on Geralt, who's standing up, eyes open and alert, silent as ever. The woman looks over at Geralt and frowns.

"Ease up, Witcher. He'll be fine."

"That's not..." Geralt starts but stops himself. He looks like he's searching for the right words, not sure what he needs to say. "Could I talk to him? In private?" He finally asks.

"I'll go get some food and painkillers for you, love," the woman pats Jaskier's arm gently. "I'm just over there, shout if you need anything."

Geralt looks as the woman walks to the next room, leaving the door ajar.

Jaskier doesn't even dare to hope, to wish for Geralt to look at him like he used to, with kindness and fond exasperation. And he isn't wrong. The short look Geralt gives him from the other side of the room is so full of guilt and fear Jaskier feels it'll suffocate him.

"...You stink of fear." Geralt says, never stepping closer. He isn't wearing his armour, only trousers and a shirt, swords laid against a wall.

"I'm not afraid of you," Jaskier says, more out of habit than anything. Geralt takes a step towards him and in an instant, his heart is in his throat, hands grabbing the blanket laid over him, feet kicking him further away from the witcher.

Geralt backs away and sits against the wall, as non-threatening as he can appear. It calms him. Despite him knowing it's all false, Geralt could leap at him in an instant and there would be nothing he could do, it still calms him.

"Did you really mean it?" Jaskier asks. Geralt closes his eyes and... slumps, covering his face with his hand.

"...I'll come back and pay Aniela after you're gone."

"That's not what I asked."

Geralt doesn't answer.

The woman, Aniela, Jaskier guesses, comes back with a bowl of stew and a vial of... something.

"Eat. And drink this, it'll take the edge off the pain. And hopefully, keep the nightmares at bay." She helps Jaskier sits up and places the tray on his lap, keeping a keen eye on him until he has eaten everything. It takes surprisingly little time for Jaskier to get sleepy, his eyelids heavy, but he doesn't want to close his eyes because when he'll open them up again Geralt will be gone.

"The witcher won't bother you, I assure you. He's as good as they come," Aniela assures him, "He saved you, brought you here. Wouldn't stop pestering me until I told him you'd be fine with some medicine and a bit of rest."

"Yeah... okay... good..." Jaskier mumbles, sleep threatening to overtake him. Aniela pets his hair and leaves again leaving him with Geralt.

"Geralt...?" Jaskier asks and untangles his hand from his blanket, "hold my hand?"

Geralt gets up and walks to him slowly, every step making a sound on the wooden floor. Jaskier can feel his heart hammering in his chest, fear tangling his insides in a freezing knot but still, he holds his shaking hand to Geralt who kneels at the side of his bed and takes his hand like it's the most delicate thing in the whole world.

"It's over, right?" Jaskier's voice sounds small in his ears but he knows Geralt can hear him just fine. He can't look Geralt in the eyes. It feels like too much, too soon. So he looks at their joined hands, focuses on Geralt's warm hand in his and tries to imagine everything is just like it used to.

"Yeah."

"And the... who did it..." Jaskier doesn't know how to ask. How to use words which is ridiculous because words are his thing, it shouldn't be this hard but it is. He doesn't know what to say, what to ask, every word feels wrong in his tongue, hurts his throat like poison.

"I'll take care of it."

"...Good." He doesn't have any other words. He doesn't even want to know. Whoever did this can choke on their tongue for all he cares. They deserve whatever Geralt decides to do and he won't ask.

"Did you really mean it?" Jaskier needs to know if it was real. If Geralt wanted to kiss him. He dares to look into Geralt's eyes, into the deep golden glow he loves so much it hurts. Geralt looks back at him, this time with gentleness and guilt and Jaskier can't help but feel frightened and hopeful, not sure which feeling is worse.

"...I did." Geralt admits. He holds Jaskier's gaze and Jaskier blinks to stay awake, to memorise this moment he thought he'd never get and smiles at Geralt, fear melting away one drop at a time and when Geralt reaches to pet his hair, slowly, giving him enough time to refuse he lets his eyes close, too tired and happy to fight it anymore.

"Go to sleep, Jaskier," Geralt tells him, voice gentler than Jaskier has ever heard.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Jaskier murmurs, voice already heavy with sleep.

"If you want me to be."

"I do."

***

Partially inspired by amazing art by @spielzeugkaiser in tumblr

Thank you @kazeetease for betaing!

@whumptober2020

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #Please...#the witcher #fanfic #rape tw #noncon tw #nsfwhump #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier

33 notes · View notes