#just. shaking him shaking him shaking him

[sttoru]

𖠵 I’M YOURS.

𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you visit your husband during his work hours to hand him his lunch which he forgot at home. his subordinates are surprised to see their superior act so gentle with you—a total opposite to how he usually is when finding and punishing outlaws.

tags. wild west sheriff!kento nanami x wife!female reader. fluff, smut. set in the wild west (1860’s - 1890’s). blǒwjob. size difference (reader short), p in v -> unprotected, breeding themes, creampié, semi-public, hair pulling. traditional views of marriage. nicknames: darling, sugar, sweetheart. wc: 6.4k

the southern parts of the county are sweltering under an unrelenting sun, and most of the townsfolk have retreated indoors to escape the heat. kento nanami - the town’s sheriff - is taking a quick break, having just returned from breaking up a violent brawl at the local saloon. damn drunkards, he thinks as he shakes his head. they have been causing havoc all afternoon, threatening to turn the place into a shooting gallery. he had to put them in their place.

kento strolls to a nearby window, silently critiquing the poor job done on the grimy glass. his eyes scan the wagons that roll in and out of town to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. but before long, his thoughts wander, and he found himself thinking of you. his dearest. his beloved. his world— his wife.

the blonde man wonders what you’re doing right now. are you preparing supper, or perhaps knitting him another one of those scarves in preperation for the colder weather?

one of his hands slips into the pockets of his slacks, fingers brushing against the handkerchief you gifted him. he smiles as he traces the embroidered flowers. their colors are still vibrant despite the constant wear. it has become his lucky charm over the years.

kento sighs as he catches a glimpse of a couple in the distance. they share a kiss, the woman waving her partner off with a handkerchief of her own as her husband leaves on his horse. the sight has his jaw clenching as guilt creeps in. he had left home in such a hurry this morning, that he hasn't kissed you goodbye properly. he hopes that you didn’t take it personally.

it is a small thing, but he makes a mental note to apologise for that later.

kento turns around from the window he’s been staring out at for the past couple minutes as one of the deputies hustles a trussed up outlaw into the office. the other male slams the wooden door shut behind them which rattles the place. the outlaw is a scruffy looking fellow and his wild eyes dart nervously between kento and the shotgun-toting deputy.

the blond sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. just when he thought he could have a peaceful break... duty calls.

“got ourselves a lil’ troublemaker here, sheriff,” jake says and gives the outlaw a rough shove forward. the man stumbles, nearly falling to his knees before catching himself.

kento’s jaw clenches as he looks the outlaw up and down, his hazel eyes hardening. he aims to keep the peace in this small town, and that means dealing with the dregs of society from time to time. anything to keep the folk safe. especially if it meant protecting his dear wife.

“ye damn pieces of shit,” the outlaw spits, glaring defiantly at the two authoritive figures standing in front of him, “i ain't done nothin’ wrong, ya hear?”

there it is; the cliché line nearly every sentenced outlaw utters whenever they’re caught. kento runs a hand through his hair and scoffs as a muscle in his jaw ticks. one thing he hates are shameless outlaws who claim to have done no wrong.

this man before him has been on countless bounty posters, plastered all over the county. wanted dead or alive, for assault, murder and robbery. bart cavanaugh, the thug’s name is.

kento barks out a harsh laugh, but his face doesn’t show an ounce of emotion. the deputy shifts on his feet. the young man had seen that face on the sheriff countless times before. it’s intimidating and scary, the tension in the room palpable.

“done nothin’ wrong? boy, y’ve been stealin’ and killin’ yer way through half the damn county. and now y' got the audacity to stand there and lie to my face?”

kento steps forward and looms over the outlaw, his broad shoulders squared. his hand drifts to rest on the butt of his holstered revolver. the metal is cool and reassuring against his palm.

“jake, go fetch the preacher. tell him to start diggin' a new grave,” kento orders without taking his piercing eyes off the outlaw. his free hand shoots forward to grab a good handful of the man’s matted hair, yanking it back roughly. the sheriff’s eyes are cold and calculating, “looks like we got us a hangin’ to do ‘fore sundown.”

the outlaw’s eyes widened in fear and he tries to take a step back, but kento’s strength is not to be matched. “but... but you can’t!” he stammers, “i got my rights, i-i'll have ya know that!”

“rights?” kento huffs and releases the thug with a rough shove, dusting his hand off on his blouse as if he touched something filthy. “the only right ye got is the right to wait here and take what's comin’ for ya.”

it did not take long before the outlaw is sentenced, hauled outside and led toward the gallows. kento stretches his arms above his head, feeling the tension slip from his shoulders. another task crossed off the list. he can only hope that the rest of his break will pass quietly without any more disturbances.

the exhausted sheriff drops into the wooden chair behind his desk and leans back with the nth sigh of the day. his fingers fumble with the drawer, and after a moment of rummaging, he pulls out a cigar. he strikes a match and lights it up before placing the stick between his lips. kento closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting the burn of the tobacco settle his mind.

minutes slip by in silence—just the quiet flicker of the lamp and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. then, the front door creaks.

kento’s eyes flicker open. a loud prayer sounds in his head; please lord above don't let it be another caught outlaw. not another deputy or bounty hunter with some new problem to throw his way.

however, when he looks up, all the weight on his shoulders vanishes in an instant. there you are - his wife - standing in the doorway like an angel sent to pull him from the depths of his workday hell. the stress, the frustration, all of it fades away in your presence.

kento squints through the haze of cigar smoke as you walk inside with a beaming smile on your face. fuck, you're beautiful. a dream come true.

he takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs before exhaling slowly. the smoke curls around his tired face. his hazel-colored eyes narrow as they rake over your figure. a little provocative, he thinks, not wearing a shawl on your exposed shoulders. especially around these parts of town—with other men lurking that aren’t your husband.

“well, well, if it ain’t my sweet lil' wife,” the blonde rumbles, setting the cigar down in the ashtray. kento leans back in his chair which causes the wooden furniture to creak under his muscular frame. “what brings you ‘round these parts, darlin'?”

it is unusual for you to visit him during work hours. normally, you’d be at the house, attending to your duties. taking care of your cozy home, or perhaps socialising with the other wives around town at one of your regular gatherings. kento didn’t expect to see you here, yet the sight of you is a welcome surprise. even more so when you look so radiant, as if the sunlight itself has wrapped around you.

“ah, you forgot your lunch dear,” you explain with a warm smile. your voice carries a familiar tone that always seems to soothe your husband. you nod politely to his colleagues who’re staring at you in awe and curiosity. you continue, “i started to worry. i can’t possibly have my husband starvin’ at work, now can i? ain't so proper as y’r wife.”

your words make kento’s heart lighten. the smile that has faded from his face the second he left you this morning, finally finds it way back. his entire demeanour softens and his body relaxes.

the two deputies, who have been going about their duties in the background, can’t help but glance over at the scene unfolding. they exchange a bemused look as they watch kento’s demeanor shift the moment you walked into the office. it’s almost comical how quickly the stern, commanding sheriff transforms into a doting and affectionate husband.

kento stands up, his tall, imposing figure towering you as he approaches. the gun belt slung low on his hips clinks softly with each step along with the spurs on his boots. he reaches out, taking the cloth wrapped box from your dainty hands. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“well, much obliged, sugar. yer a real sight for sore eyes,” kento comments, his deep voice lowering to an intimate rumble. he sets the box down on the desk before stepping closer to you. his eyes search for yours while his hands gently rub your sides.

“any time,” you shyly duck your head as you sense the tension between kento and you building up. it’s always like this between you two. the honeymoon phase? for you it’s not a phase, it’s a forever thing. until death do you part.

your hands reach up, slithering from his sides to his chest to straighten his sheriff’s badge. “has work been okay, hun?” you murmur in a honeyed voice, the one that drives kento crazy. neither of you seem to care about his co-workers standing around, lost in your own little bubble.

kento’s hand slides from your side to your throat, fingers skimming over your pulse point, enjoying the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch. “work’s been a pain in the ass, darlin’. same ol’ song and dance,” he replies while his half lidded eyes dart all over your pretty face, “but now that y’re here, it's startin’ to look up.”

your conversation is casual, yet the underlying tension tells you there is more to it. even the deputies become aware of what’s playing in the middle of the office. or more so, what's about to happen if the passion in both kento and his wife’s eyes come to life.

kento can’t help but smirk as you press yourself against him. your soft curves mold to the hard planes of his muscular body, a stark contrast to the gentle hands that hold you close. his eyes darken once he catches you looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. that’s his damn weakness.

“y’know, seein' you here, lookin' like sin in that dress—it’s making me think all sorts of improper thoughts,” he starts in his deep voice. your husband lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “thoughts about bendin’ you over my desk and showin’ ya what happens to naughty little wives who distract their husbands at work.”

a shiver runs down your spine even though this is exactly what you wanted. you came here to deliver kento’s lunch, yes, but you've also missed his attention, affection and most importantly his touch. due to his job, he’s not at home for almost the entire day.

you don’t want to come off as clingy, but when you have a man like kento to call yours, you can’t help but want to be greedy.

the same goes for him as well. kento is ever the devoted lover, head over heels for you, and that includes feeling a great sense of physical attraction to you. he can’t help it—especially when you look so adorable, playing the role of the dutiful wife, visiting him at work to drop off his lunch. it’s a massive turn on.

“l-later. there are others here,” you try to play your erotic interaction off, even as you feel the insistent press of kento's clothed cock against your lower belly. your cheeks heat up as you realise that this bit of proximity had already turned your husband on.

kento licks a stripe up your earlobe, his teeth grazing the flesh before he soothes it with his slick tongue. he knows he shouldn’t be so explicit with you, not here in his office where anyone could walk in. but he simply cannot resist your charms. that pretty body and voice of yours are like a siren’s call to him.

however, he also notices your hesistance because of the company you have. kento, ever the thoughtful man, glances up at the deputies sitting around the office. his gaze hardens and his voice is filled with authority, “don't y’all got better things to do than sittin’ ‘round here?”

it’s a hidden message that all men in the room clearly understood. kento wanted them out and as soon as possible so he can take care of his wife. his duties are put on hold for as long as you need him by your side. he trusts his coworkers to deal with the rest while he’s busy attending to your needs.

the deputies scramble to their feet and grab their stetsons, hurrying out of the office with a chorus of 'yes, sir!' and 'right away, sir!' some smirk knowingly as they make their way out into the muddy streets. they know all too well about kento’s soft spot—the one woman he’d do anything for. even if it means that he ignores his work for a while.

within seconds, the office clears out, leaving kento and you alone. he turns back to you and his eyes instantly roam over your feminine curves. from the swell of your soft breasts to the flare of your hips. oh, his mouth immediately starts to water.

“now, where were we?” the blond man hums. he stalks forward until your back hits the wall with a inaudible thud. you swallow thickly as you look up at kento, who’s staring back at you like you’re a five course meal.

but beneath that passionate gaze is something so intimate. so much more gentle and loving. with every touch, his eyes still search for yours, wordlessly confirming your consent. it’s a habit of his—ever since he took your innocence on your wedding night.

kento’s hands slide down to grab your thighs. he hoists you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around the dip of his waist, holding you between his body and the wall. his eyes flicker downwards to where the skirt of your dress rides up and exposes more of your soft skin to his greedy touch.

“i need you,” your lover breathes against your lips. his mouth is an inch from yours, eager to capture it in a kiss. kento groans the second he feels your clothed cunt press against his throbbing bulge. his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass, “shit. i need you now.”

not a second more is wasted as your husband crashes his lips against yours. he presses you back against the wall, moaning into your mouth. this is what he missed the most. your touch, your taste— it makes him feel alive. like all his hard work is worth it.

your fingers curl into his blond locks, tugging at them as your lips move in sync. your tongues roll around each other and your lower bodies move accordingly, grinding for fiction. “are ye sure? right here?” you ask between gasps, voice muffled as his lips interlock with yours repeatedly.

kento pulls away, but not fully. he can’t let you go in any way or form. his head instantly dives into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. he immediately latches onto your throat and kisses his way down to your collarbone.

this is exactly what he needs after a hard day. the familiar perfume mixing with the faint scent of your arousal and something so homey—it’s dizzying.

“never been more sure,” your husband groans once he feels your nails gently drag down from his nape to his back, slipping beneath the collar of his blouse. little minx, he thinks, knowing exactly what makes a man weak.

kento tilts his head back so he can look into your eyes. your gaze catches his and you’re taken aback by how handsome he looks. he always does, of course, but this sight just makes you clench around nothing. it leaves you throbbing in your underwear.

the way his neat hair has now turned messy, locks covering his half-lidded eyes, biceps straining against the material of his blouse, sharp jaw clenching with the effort to hold himself back from completely ravaging you. . .

you’re soaked.

kento grins at the way your kiss-swollen lips fall apart in a small ‘o’ as you admire him. he knows he looks good and it boosts his confidence. “keep lookin’ at me like that,” he encourages as his lower body grinds against yours.

you can feel the thick outline of his dick pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt and it causes you to jerk in place. your moans get swallowed by your husband’s lips once more, his mouth not giving you a moment to breathe as he kisses you more demandingly this time.

kento carries you to his desk, not once separating your lips from his. he sits down on his chair and settles you down on his thick thighs. your arms immediately wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss.

the steamy make out session continues for a while, both of you breathless. you finally pull back for some air and open your eyes to meet your husband’s. the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his entire world, makes you weak in the knees.

“let me take care of ya first,” you suggest in a hoarse whisper against his lips. you feel kento stiffen beneath you, his cock throbbing impatiently in his slacks at the implication.

“go right on ahead,” he bites his lip and watches your wandering hands drag down from his shoulders to his chest. the muscle in his jaw ticks as he tries his best not to intervene—to grab and bend you over his desk already.

kento’s breath catches in his throat as your delicate hands worked at his belt, the leather creaking softly as you undo the buckle. he watches, transfixed, as you tug his pants down.

suddenly, his large hand reaches out to wrap around your smaller one, squeezing it. “wait,” kento hisses and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. he’s trying so hard not to lose control.

he takes a deep breath after closing his eyes, hips bucking lightly against your warm palm as it rests against the deliciously big bulge in his undergarments. you gently drop to your knees in front of him while giving him some time to regain his composure.

when kento opens his eyes again, he lets out a low growl from the back of his throat at the sight of you looking up at him with those big eyes. so ready, so eager to please your husband. it can make him bust a nut in his underwear.

“go on,” he whispers gruffly, letting go of your hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. that gentleman side of his never fails to make an appearance, even during sinful moments like these.

you nod and smile in excitement. you lick your lips before hooking your fingers beneath the material of the jockstraps. you slowly tug it down and free his aching cock from its confines. the thick length springs up, gently slapping against his lower stomach and leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on the fabric of his blouse.

kento’s cock was a thing of beauty—long, thick, and girthy, with a bulbous head already glistening with arousal. veins puls along the shaft, and a faint clump of blonde curls dusted the base. the musky scent of his desire fill your nostrils, making your head swim with need.

the pre-cum trickles enticingly from the slit of his tip, a drop slithering down slowly to his heavy balls. it’s evident how much you affect the man and it makes your tummy do a flip.

“mmh— kento. y’re so hard already,” you moan as your pink tongue lolls out to lap up the sticky liquid from the head. you give it a couple small licks to tease your partner, a coy grin playing at your lips.

kento growls, one hand coming down to tangle in your hair at the contact. “fuckk, sugar,” he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock brushing against your soft cheek, leaving pearly drops of pre-cum on your skin. “been thinkin’ about this sweet lil’ mouth all damn day. dreamin’ about them pretty lips wrapped around my dick,” he breathes heavily.

the once composed sheriff is a total mess. he squeezes the base of his dick as he gently taps your cheek with it, trying to coax your lips to part. “c’mon. ye can’t keep this from me any longer,” kento grunts with his brows furrowed.

when you blow some warm air on his tip, he throws his head back at the contact. he’s aching for relief and sitting there teasing him. he could manhandle you to comply, but he’s simply too needy for your touch to do so.

kento gulps before looking down at you. his expression is a mix of frustration, pleasure and neediness. his cheeks are flushed, blonde locks covering his eyes. he breathes out his plea in a shaky tone;

“please.”

your jaw drops at that unexpected moment of vulnerability. it’s thrilling and causes you to immediately give in to his charms. you silently hum in agreement before wrapping your lips around his tip, swallowing inch after inch slowly.

a guttural groan tore from kento’s throat as your hot, eager mouth engulfs his twitching cock. the sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre that still leaks steadily from the head, was almost more than he could bear. his fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the strands as he fought the urge to thrust deep into your throat and take his pleasure.

“awh shit,” kento growls. his voice is strained with pleasure at this point, not even able to say things properly. “yer mouth feels so fuckin’ good ‘round my dick.” he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you take him deeper, his thick length disappearing inch by inch between your plump and kiss-swollen lips. the sight of you, on your knees before him, servicing him with such enthusiasm, sends a surge of pure primal satisfaction through him.

you redouble your efforts and bob your head. up and down, up and down—a hypnotic rhythm that has the man in front of you wrapped around your little finger.

“such a good little wife—yeah, jus’ like that,” kento’s hips rock up to your downward movements, driving his cock deeper into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

he can feel the wet muscles fluttering around him, could hear the obscene sounds of your gagging and slurping as you struggle to take him all the way. but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. instead, you start sucking him with a fervor that has him seeing stars.

kento’s eyes roll back and he’s trying his best not to cum on spot. he wants to last longer, wants to relish the feeling of you pleasuring him and most importantly—he wants to spend his cum well. in a place where it can take root, where it’d serve its intended purpose.

inside you.

but it’s hard. so hard. especially when you’re watching his every reaction, eyes so captivating and alluring as you suck the soul out of him.

“don’t—oh lord,” kento grits his teeth as your hands cup his balls and squeeze them, rolling them in your palm. the dual sensations of your mouth and hands working in tandem had his breath coming in harsh pants, his muscular chest heaving with the force of it.

your husband’s head tilts backwards, the chair creaking beneath him as he grips the armrests with white knuckles. he’s lost in the sensation of you worshipping his dick, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you slurp and suck with abandon. he knows he will not last much longer at this rate, knows he is going to paint your mouth white with his seed any second now.

kento doesn’t really want to, but he also does. he’s conflicted, though it’s already too late. one particular suck and his tip hitting the deepest parts of your throat sends him over the edge.

“ah, fuck! cummin’, sweetheart!” he moans loudly, his eyes squeezed shut as the first spurts of his hot seed flow from his cock. he can’t stop it, even as he tries to pull your head off due to the overstimulation.

when you finally let his dick go with a lewd, wet pop, kento gasps for air, pushing the hairs away from your face. you’re looking so debauched, so lost in the pleasure, it sends his blood rushing southwards. again.

“there ye go. swallow it all down f’ me,” he mutters quietly, voice rough as his thumb swipes away at the cum on the corners of your mouth. he watches your throat work as you drink down the taste of him.

before you can catch your breath, kento hauls you up off the floor and onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist tightly. he feels the renewed throb of his erection pressing insistently against your thigh, already aching for more.

“dammit, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue, his voice rough and ragged with lust. “y’ve got me so fuckin’ worked up— can’t hold back no more.” his callused hands slide down to grab your round ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he grinds your clothed cunt against his wet dick.

kento stands abruptly and sweeps the contents of his desk onto the floor with a crash. papers flutter everywhere as he bends you over the now empty surface, the rough wood digging into your soft skin. he can’t care less about those important documents. not when he has his wife in front of him.

he flips the hem of your dress up, the material pooling around your waist to bare your underwear-clad ass. you’re already so wet, your pussy lips clinging to the soaked fabric of your undergarments, outlining your cunt perfectly. it’s a sight that makes kento weak in the knees.

“look at this sweet lil’ ass,” the blonde man rasps, delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. the sound echoes through the office, followed by your startled yelp. “she’s g’nna be hurtin’ when i’m done with her, i bet.”

you arch your back in response to the slaps against your bottom, “mhh, kento. need you real bad.” your ass rippling with each smack to it, along with your soft voice begging for him, makes your husband dizzy.

with a muttered curse, kento rips your underwear off, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper in his large hands. he tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed to his ravenous touch. his callused fingers delve between your thighs, finding you dripping wet and ready.

“tsk. would ya look at that,” he groans, plunging two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. “yer fuckin’ soaked. practically beggin’ for my cock like the needy lil’ slut you are.”

you can only moan in response, your hips bucking back against his invading fingers. those nasty words being said by your usual sweet lover makes you crave more. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the air as he pumps his digits in and out of your fluttering pussy. you can feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they stretch you open so well, preparing you for his thick cock.

“that’s it, baby,” kento encourages, his thumb finding your clit beneath its hood and rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles. “get this sweet cunt nice and ready f’ me. am gonna make you feel so good, i promise.”

kento’s fingers pump faster, plunging in and out of your dripping pussy with wild abandon. the wet, sloppy sounds of your arousal fill the room as your slick walls clench greedily around the invading digits. he can feel you getting closer, your body tensing and quivering as he worked you towards a peak.

“cummin’ already? naughty girl,” kento growls, his voice a low, dominant rumble, “can’t have that.”

with a harsh tug, he yanks his fingers from your weeping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. “kennnn,” you whine as your fingernails dig into the wooden desk beneath you. you wiggle your hips back in frustration, needing more.

kento can see your hole clenching around air, trying to draw something back inside. the sight makes him groan, his cock throbbing painfully between his thick thighs. he’s such a weak man when it comes to you.

“i hear ya— i hear ya,” he mutters, giving in quickly to your needy whine. your dear husband can’t tease you when you’re basically begging him to take you. he grips himself in one hand, stroking his shaft as he rubs the swollen head over your dripping slit.

kento slides the engorged tip teasingly along your slick folds to coat himself in your arousal as he aligns your lower bodies. with a single thrust of his hips, he buries himself fully inside you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with a faint, meaty smack.

“fuuuck!” kento cusses and his voice echoes off the office walls as he hilts his dick in your wet pussy. no matter how many times he ruins your cunt, it’s still as tight as the first time. “fuckin’ hell, sugar,” he breathes out shakily.

your silken walls grip him like a vice, the slick muscles fluttering and clenching around his fat dick. he pauses for just a moment to savore the exquisite sensation of being buried inside his wife's perfect little cunt.

however, he cannot hold back for long. gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped dents on your flesh, he begins to move, his thighs flexing as he sets a relentless rhythm. the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room as he fucks into you. the ancient desk creaks and shakes with each forceful thrust. it’s a wonder that old thing isn’t breaking.

“tha’s it, take it,” kento snarls. he punctuates each word with a sharp snap of his hips. the feeling of his slick dick slamming into you over and over has him nearly tearing up from pleasure. this is the way to forget about all his earlier problems

“doing so good, honey. yer squeezin’ the life outta me—good girl,” he praises in-between movements. no matter how much he gets lost in the haze of lust, he’s still the sweet nanami kento you know.

his fingers dig into the meat of your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he drives into you again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the stretch, the pure pleasure of his dick molding your insides to fit him and him only.

your toes curl as you struggle to lay steady on your tummy. “o-oh, mmh. right there,” your eyes roll back and your body jolts back and forth in sync with his thrusts. your lower tummy and cunt are tingling, needing more stimulation to build up to that mind-blowing orgasm.

“faster, deeper, please— please,” you mewl. you can’t bring yourself to care about the possibility of others hearing you outside the sheriff’s office. let the town folk gossip and whatnot. at the end of the day, you’re the one winning by having a husband like kento.

your lover leans over your arched back, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against your shoulder blades. he kisses the back of your head with a smile playing on his lips, “as you wish.”

one hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair. kento fists it tightly, using it as a handle to yank your head back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch. the new angle lets him drive even deeper into you, his hard cock kissing your cervix with each rough thrust.

kento’s dick plunges inside your cunt with wild abandon and you’re loving it. your sweet noises intensify and you can’t think about anything else but the feeling of you being split open. the tip of his dick touches the deepest parts of you and it’s painful—but the pain is nothing compared to the mind numbing pleasure.

“there we go. gotta get all up in there, aye?” kento pants harshly against the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. his other hand reaches around to flick your clit before coming to rest on your lower tummy, “that way i can ensure y’re g’nna end up with a swollen belly.”

the implications of his words make you shudder. you know kento’s always been a family man. always dropping hints of wanting to start a family with you when you’re ready. and he never misses the opportunity to pump you full of his potent cum when you do try for a baby.

“k-ken,” you bite your lip at the thought of it. of succeeding to conceive this time. it’d be because of this lewd moment, in his office out all places. it’s so naughty to the point it’s driving you insane.

kento notices how your body is reacting to his dirty talk and grins to himself. he isn’t clueless—he can feel the way you clench around his dick, as if you’re trying to suck every drop of cum out of his sack. “hm? yer cunt is agreein’ with me, it seems,” he hums.

your lover bites your shoulder as his hips pound against your rear with a strength that’s nearly inhuman. your insides are being turned to mush while you’re drowning in ecstasy.

“yer g’nna make such a good momma,” kento continues to whisper those words in your ears, simply to drive you to the brink of an orgasm. he kisses your earlobe lovingly as his deep voice carries on, “can’t wait to see this beautiful body change to carry my child.”

the dirty talk sure is working. he can feel you tensing, could hear the breathy moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he brings you closer to the edge. he knows your body—knows every inch of you—and he uses that knowledge drive you utterly mad.

“ah, fuck, ken! honey,” you whine. the contrast between his honeyed voice and rough thrusts that send electric jolts down your spine, is maddening. you can feel the knot tightening in your belly, threatening to snap any second now.

kento’s eyes darken and he grunts in response. the hand that’s been playing with your clit moves to hold onto your hip again for leverage, pounding into you with a passion you’ve never felt before.

“i know,” he mutters gruffly as he watches his cock disappear into your greedy cunt, “i know, sugar. just give yerself t’ me. let go.”

that’s all it really takes. kento feels your body go rigid beneath him as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your walls clamp down around his pistoning cock like a silken vise, fluttering and rippling as you cum hard.

you cry out due to your mind-blowing orgasm. your thighs tremble and your body convulses uncontrollably on the desk—eyes closed as your senses focus on the remaining pleasure.

“fuck, yes— yes yes yes,” kento grunts as your slick fluids gush out around his dick. he can feel the warm, slick heat of your juices splash against his balls and drip down his thighs. the sight of you coming undone on his dick, the sound of your screams of ecstasy filling the room, pushes him over the edge as well.

kento slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, sensitive pussy. his cock jerks and throbs inside you as thick ropes of cum erupt from the tip. he can feel each spurt of his load, can count the pulsing jets of cum as he pump you full with it.

“take it—let me breed ya real good,” he pants while grinding his hips against your ass to properly empty himself inside your pulsing cunt. kento shudders as his hips lazily move in small, shallow circles, “get it all nice ‘n deep in there.. yeaaah, good job.”

his grip on your hair tightens for a moment, forcing you to arch you back even more as he slowly rides his orgasm out, his release seeming to go on and on. he senses his hot seed sloshing inside you, can already picture it flooding your fertile womb and taking root.

finally, with a shuddering groan, kento collapses against your back. his large frame easily blankets your smaller one. he notices your body trembling beneath him, could hear the soft whimpers and mewls spilling from you lips as you came down from your high as well. despite that, he stays buried inside you, not wanting to lose a single drop of his cum.

“yer so perfect,” your lover whispers and nuzzles his face into your neck, “the most perfect woman a man could ask for.” that gentleman side of his now makes a full return, as it always does after a particularly rough session. kento takes aftercare quite seriously.

his hands rub your sides and massage your body in places he knows will be sore later on. his lips leave trails of kisses from your neck to your shoulders and back—a testament of his love for you.

after making sure you’re okay, kento eases himself up off your back, his softening dick slipping from your tender folds with a squelch. he looks down to see your combined fluids leaking out from your slit, dripping down your thighs to pool on the rough wood beneath you.

the sight makes him bite back a groan. if it wasn’t for the ounce of self control left inside of him, he’d go for a second round. but he can’t. his coworkers will be back soon anyway.

kento helps you up as well, his hands gripping your waist to steady you as your shaky legs find their footing. “mmh, my lovely wife,” he smiles at you as he cups your face into his hands. he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you into a hug, “thank you so much. don’t think i would’ve even survived today if ye didn’t show up.”

you giggle at kento’s dramatics and hug him back tightly, body slowly recovering from the intense passion you two just shared. the fog on the nearby window, the steamy tension and the scent of sex still lingers in the air—something you have to take care of soon before others come to visit.

but for now, you’ll just enjoy the warmth of your husband’s embrace. that’s all what really matters.

[gospelica]

"i don't think you know just what you do to me."

stepdad!kento's hands on your body are searing hot and desperate,, to say the least. he has you on the dining table, your half eaten dinner pushed aside to make room for you to sit back and accommodate your stepfathers large frame between your thighs. he's so hard it hurts, but you only have so long before your mother finishes up in the shower and comes down to join the both of you for desert.

little does she know, her sweethearted kento is having his fill of desert early. he gropes you with large hands, tweaks at your nipples as he kisses down whatever exposed skin he can find until he's face-to-face with your pretty pussy: his favourite sight. but you're needy and impatient and despite having been licked and worshipped by your stepdad for weeks now he still hasn't stretched you out on his cock.

"you could just fuck me," you whisper, as if your mother could somehow hear you over the running water of her shower upstairs. "im already wet for you..."

he shakes his head, blond hair messing a little as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. you reach down and take his glasses off to avoid any obstacles between your sensitive clit and his eager mouth.

"you know i won't fuck you, sweet thing."

"why-" you gasp as he licks a stripe through your folds up to your clit- "why not? i want it."

"i'm your step-father. it's wrong," he presses a kiss to your clit. "improper," kiss, "an abuse of power."

"you're literally eating me out right now," you whine. "it's wrong anyways. you want it too, i know you do."

"more than anything," he hums against your pussy. "bet you feel as sweet as you taste, but it's not happening. you need to start respecting the ground rules i lay down, so shut up and let me make you cum before your mother comes back down."

you groan, but lean back on your elbows and let your legs drape over his broad shoulders. kento eats you like he hasn't just indulged himself on your mothers cooking; with needy moans pressed against your clit and lots of spit and tongue and enough kisses to tell you this isn't just sex to him. he digs his fingers into your thighs to pull you impossibly closer to his greedy tongue, but you gasp when the cold of his wedding band presses against your heated skin.

of course, he moves to take it off, mostly out of guilt, but you manage to catch his wrist in your hand before he can. you can feel his sharp exhale against your pussy as you shake your head, something filthy playing behind your eyes. "don't take it off."

your stepdad frowns and you slowly guide his hand to your heat. you mould hiring and middle finger out and press the rest against his palm and tease your own entrance with his hand as if he were only a toy. his wedding band glistens with your sweet nectar, and he can't manage to pull his hand away like he should. "you're cruel," he whispers.

"i know," you sigh and lean back, letting go of his wrist and trusting him to know what you want. "stop if you want to. go join mom in the shower, maybe you could get off with your—"

"don't." kento pistons his fingers into you with a pace that makes you dizzy! your head is falling back and he's reattaching his lips to your clit and showing off that added experience that being so much older than you gives. your fingers drag through his hair, messing up the delicate blond strands in a way you almost hope he doesn't remember to fix before facing your mother again.

and before you know it, he's bring you to the edge of your climax and pushing you over into ecstasy with an ease that makes it feel like you're the one who he should be claiming with jewellery instead! you cum hard around his fingers and greedy kento nanami laps up every last drop of your release like a thirsty dog.

he rests his forehead against your knee and closes his pretty eyes tight. he's trying to will his erection down.

"i can fix that," you offer, already knowing he'll shake his head and tell you that this is for your pleasure, not his. though you know if you had the time for a second round that your taste alone could make the man cum in his pants: it's happened before.

but before he can protest and you can push any further, the sound of running water from upstairs halts and you hear the shower door opening and shutting as your mother finishes up. it's an almost comical race to get your clothes back on and your appearances tidied up, but by the time she's dressed and rejoining you both in the dining room, you're sat in soft chatter about... the economy.

that's okay, though! because your mom quickly gives you a new subject to discuss when she tells you she's going to spend the summer abroad on a business exchange! she hates to leave you two alone like this but it's the opportunity of a lifetime.

and you'll be damned if you get a whole summer alone with your stepdad and don't get him to fuck you properly within the first week :)

pt 2 soooooooon

[amaranthinespirit]

size difference with Ghost 😈

size difference with simon riley

simon riley is massive, not just in terms of height, but muscle and dick too. this man is a wall of muscle, impenetrable and daunting the way he looms over a crowd with his plain, black balaclava. yet you find yourself with your arm looped around this brute of a man, his smitten gaze peering down at you, his arm twice the size of yours, and his hand too.

you hadn't thought about how difficult it'd be to take him until your nervous eyes gazed on his thick, engorged cock oozing with gooey arousal. fuck, you couldn't even think. you swallowed thickly, barely managing a whisper, "'s not gonna fit, si."

he chuckled at your whispered words, the way your eyes seem to stay stuck between his legs, large, veiny cock throbbing and aching to be inside you.

"mmm, it'll fit, baby, j's trus'me, hm?" he cocked his head to the side, a wicked smirk on his face, "such'a pre'ty lit'l cunt's made f'me, y'can take it, sweet girl."

he consoled you, but promised first to ease up your tight cunt on his thick fingers and sloppy tongue, eliciting pretty noises, and it wasn't until multiple orgasms later that he deemed you okay. your walls stretched around his digits, each new fingers added causing a whine to spill from your swollen lips and your walls to further constrict around him.

three orgasms in and your legs are jelly, trembling around his waist as pearly slick drools from your slit, puffy clit overstimulated and sensitive. sweat beads drip down your skin, creating a sheen across your even flesh.

you can barely register the low, gruff chuckle as he hauls you closer by your legs, underside of your knees resting now on his forearms, his large cock grazing through your slick folds.

a whimper strained from your throat, and all he did was shush you, "shh, lovie, you'll b'fine," he cooed, teasing his angry tip over your entrance, watching your hips buck up from the pillow under your hips, "nice and gentle, yeah?"

he waits for the nod of confirmation, the small hum that barely leaves your closed, swollen lips as you look up at him sweetly, your eyes hazed over and hair tousled.

"good girl," he praises, holding you firmly as he forces his fat cock past your folds, groaning at the way you seem to swallow him, walls constricting so tightly around him, he worries you might force him out, "fuckkk, s'tight, are ya, love? gettin' messy b'fore didn't 'elp, eh?"

he merely chuckles, watching the way your face contorts, jaw dropping as throaty noises slip past, your body writhing under him as you struggle to handle his meaty cock penetrating you, practically tearing you in two.

"not even halfway, swee'eart, c'mon, y'can take more, surely?" he teases, his eyes glancing down to where your bodies meet, entranced in the way you suck him in, lewd, flithy squelches as your pussy swallows him further.

you can only whine, tears brimming your eyes as you stare up at him with pleading eyes, "s'full," you can only manage.

"already? tha's n'good, baby..." he tsk's, shaking his head as he rocks his hips, thick, engorged cock slowly punching against your velvety, gooey walls, watching the way your tummy bulges with every small rut of wide hips, "can handle more, yeah? tha's m'girl."

he doesn't wait for an answer, using his leverage of your knees over his forearms to pull you down on his meaty cock, grunting lowly as he bottoms out. his full balls lightly slap against your plush rear, your skin already reddening as he fucks you down into the mattress, hips plowing into your warmth.

you can no longer register his words, his voice becoming another blur in your cock-drunk haze, your eyes rolled back as he continues to utter praises as his hips continue their relentless abuse to your sweet cunt, drooling around him and swallowing him whole.

see, he told you you can handle it, yeah? listen to him, he knows best.

[moechies]

karasu and his violent and nasty size kink ♡

yes, he will cum the moment you tell him he’s too big and it hurts. he doesn’t mean to but god — you’re too damn cute with the way you’re squealing and pressing at his abdomen. as if you would have any chance to push him away even if you wanted to.

yes, he’ll apologize briefly but no, he won’t be pulling out. if anything, he’ll just use his spurts of sticky nut as extra lubricant to make things easier for you!

yes, he’ll kiss you all over to distract you from the gruesome stretch. your pussy struggles to accommodate even his tip, groaning when you’re shaking your head and begging for mercy.

yes, he’ll take this chance to pull out and re-prep you, only because you look so cute. with your big doe eyes, round and watery with your fluttery lashes batting at him. your cheeks all blushed and your bottom lip tucked under his teeth — he’ll take mercy on you this one time. but if you quit on him again, he’ll just have to utilize that pretty mouth of yours.

yes, he’s quick to scissor his middle and ring finger inside your swollen pussy to help you prepare for his cock. he’s just that nice! his thumb rubs at your clit, helping you get off and he can’t help but feel a tad jealous when his cock is sitting against his thigh, lacking of simulation and warmth.

yes, karasu grins from ear to ear when you finally whisper a meek, ‘think ‘m ready,” so sweetly. he lines himself up with your pretty slit once again, gaping and leaking slightly from his crude preparations, and slides his rudy cock head up and down your slit.

“forcing it in through a tiny hole, huh . . that’s hot.” ♡

karasu mumbles when he finally presses himself in, guttural moans leaving his parted lips.

[youleftmenochoicebut]

NATIONAL ANTHEM.

pairing. — husband!hwang in-ho x wife!reader

summary. — you always cherish the times your husband is home, and not away dozens of miles away from you, overseeing deadly games.

warnings. — smut (eating pussy), fluff, prolly ooc, its bad.

a/n. — yes, i too, caught the squid game brainrot. i try to work on the requests! schools been kicking my ass tho, sorry. this is too short and def not proofread!

you love when he wakes you up like this. his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into him, lips crashing into yours the second your eyes open and he knows you’re awake.

he hasn’t been sleeping for almost an hour, watching your chest raise and fall with a steady rhythm of your breathing, the expression on your face changing in your sweets dreams.

and so, when you roll onto him, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling away quickly. “morning breath. ew.” you whisper, a sleepy smile forming on your face as you look down at him. he’s always so composed, even around you, and still it’s the softer side of him, the one only you see (and the one his family once saw).

he knows how much you hate the smell, and he nods, getting out of bed with you in his arms without a problem, and the way he’s still so fit in his mid fourties always makes you sigh. you, only in your twenties, could barely go a day without complaining of back pain or leg pain, or generally any pain.

he carries you to the bathroom, letting you drop onto your feet when you’re in front of the sink, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. the both of you brush your teeth, and then he’s pulling you out to the kitchen. you sit down on the stool while he makes you a coffee first, handing it to you with a low hum before moving to make a cup for himself.

“any work today?” you mutter after you take a sip of your nectar of gods, a content sigh escaping your lips, your eyes set on In-ho. he shakes his head, leaning his hip against the counter, holding his mug.

“only making my wife the happiest person on earth.” cheeky bastard. for a man who tends to be closed off even with you, you have to admit he’s smooth. it makes you smile, how only the corners of his lips raise, and you set your coffee down in front of you.

“where the hell did you learn to be so charming, huh? damn sweet-talker.” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully as he approaches you, settling his coffee next to yours. he puts his hands against the counter, on either sides of your body, trapping you in a close embrace.

“i’m a natural charmer, darling.” his smile widens, and it actually looks like a proper smile now, as he leans in. before you can react, his hands are on your waist, swiftly picking you up for you to be perched up on the edge of the kitchen island, and you rest back on your elbows.

coming back to your thought from earlier, you’re always amazed at how much stamina your man has.

“you know, i don’t think that’s gonna count as a proper meal.” you chuckle, looking down at him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs and you kick them off once they’re at your ankles. he prompts your legs open with a single pat to your thigh and you oblige right away, spreading them just for your husband.

“still, it’s my favorite.” In-ho mutters quietly, taking a deep breath in when he brings his head to your bare pussy, as if the scent is what he’d want to breathe for the rest of his life.

“don’t tease.” you chuckle, and you feel his nose nudge your clit, a shiver running down your spine. you tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to tug him closer, but he lets out a tshk sound. his hands force your legs over his shoulders, and after a moment of silent contentment, he puts his lips on you.

it makes you arch your back the second he does, even if it’s just a kiss over your pussy lips. he backs away slightly, planting more and more soft kisses over the insides of your thighs, his fingers now grazing on your hips in soothing circles.

“shh… shh. you gotta be a good girl for me, remember?” his voice is a murmur against your skin, and soon his lips go back to your cunt. you only nod, your eyes meeting once he starts sucking on your clit. it’s light, the sensation barely there, and you pull at his hair again. a chuckle leaves him, the vibration against your sensitive bud making your pussy clench around nothing. it truly feels degrading, knowing how much power he holds over your body that a feeling like that brings out a reaction like this.

once he finally stops teasing you and really begins to lap at your intimate part, you moan, the sound low and breathy. you know it won’t be nice now. he spits onto his palm, then his finger pushes inside you soon enough. that one finger stretches you out good, almost painfully, from how thick and calloused it is. he has your body and its’ reactions memorized by now, and so he adds a second finger when the first one is soaked in your juices.

“i love that look on you.” In-ho’s fingers speed up the pace, sliding in and out of you faster, crossing over inside you and curling to hit that spongy spot that makes you tremble. you only glance down at him, watching him through half-lidded eyes, moans and whimpers escaping your mouth more regularly. the man works wonders on you, lips focused on your clit, fingers ruthlessly driving into you with a fastened rhythm. it’s not long until you’re seeing stars, your fingers in his hair drawing him in against your cunt even more to stop him from pulling back, and your climax hits you hard. you’re a panting, dazed out mess as your husband helps you ride out your orgasm, only pulling away when the shaking of your legs subsides, licking his fingers clean of your essence. you let out a heavy sigh as you sit up, unable to form a coherent thought.

“i’m not done with you yet.” your man wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest, rubbing your lower back gently. “we have a new armchair i think needs a proper… trying out.”

[bi-writes]

*GRABS YOU* more ghoap x reader with the pregnancy right now I'm coming to your house on my knees begging praying

"open."

your mouth drops open on instinct, and you whine shyly when there's a resounding "heh heh" that follows. you close your mouth, blinking up at simon, and he hums lowly.

"wot's wrong, swee'eart?" he asks. you jump a little when a big hand cups your lower belly, and you bite your lip when he thumbs at the curve there. "i said open."

your mouth falls open again, slowly this time, and when johnny comes up behind you, you lean back at the tastes of his thick fingers on your tongue.

"she likes when 'er mouth's full," simon mutters, and you suckle on johnny's fingers. you shake your head a little, and simon chuckles. "wot, not wot y'want? y'want somethin' else?"

you nod, pressing your hands against simon's chest, and he nods his head at johnny to let his hand down. when his fingers are out of your mouth, simon leans down, and you dig your nails into his pecs when he licks into your mouth and kisses you hot.

you shiver a little when you feel johnny press up against your back. you feel the cold bite of the air when he hikes up the dress you're wearing, his big hands smoothing over the fabric of your panties. your knees buckle a little when you feel simon's hands just under johnny's--spreading your cheeks apart.

"open up for johnny," simon whispers between kisses, and you arch your back a little, your ass spread just enough for johnny to slip his cock between your thighs and wet it.

"fuck--'m no' gonnae last--" johnny chokes. "she's too pretty."

"and wet, huh, love? y'r soaked," simon murmurs. "don't remember you droolin' so much before."

"got our wee one in there, LT," johnny hisses. the tip of him slips in, simon's hand guiding his cock, and you cry against simon's lips. "makes 'er so much needier...makes 'er so...fuck--gonna come--"

"don't make me punish ya, johnny, yeah?" simon snaps. "tha's no' the rules."

"the rules..." you're so dizzy, surrounded by foggy pleasure, and simon cups the back of your neck so he can glare at johnny behind you.

"she comes first, johnny," simon kisses his teeth. "'s good for the baby."

"the baby--" you mewl, and simon brings your mouth back to his.

"tha's right, love. our baby. remember tha'? did so good for me. now open up, let him in--" simon guides johnny in, fingers smoothing against the place where you're connected, and you cry with relief when simon's fingers slip over your clit in achingly slow circles.

"gonna c-come, LT--"

johnny's never been able to last. you think he came a full thirty seconds after getting inside of you the first time, and he's only ever made it to a minute since. he's so cute--you love when his baby blues get all shiny and big and embarrassed.

"no--simon--let him--" you say against his lips. "please--please, i want it--"

johnny chokes behind you. he squeezes your ass hard, digging his fingers in, and your mouth drops open when you feel him spurt and fill you up. johnny's so messy. he always comes too much, too fast, and you can hear him pant behind you as he tries to catch his breath. you can see him already, red cheeks from shyness, apologetic with those big, pretty eyes.

"'s like ya want another one," simon laughs. "doesn't work like tha'. wish it did, huh? you want another one, love?"

"i-i--"

"olways got t'be full," simon continues. "we should go again."

"mmm--" you giggle, but it turns into a sigh when you feel johnny getting hard again, still inside you, still hissing behind you as he watches you kiss his lieutenant.

"one more time, johnny. make it count."

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[servicpop]

correcting wrongs nsfw teacher ! zhongli x student brat ! bttm m reader

Clad in a brown turtleneck with an almost unamused expression on his face, your professor was nothing short of being “the best in the business.” His stoic nature paired with those strikingly sharp features made him easy on the eyes, and strangely attractive.

He wasn't soft spoken, but his words were always delivered gently, tinged with a rasp from his low speaking register. A real heartthrob of a teacher.

Though he was kind to others, you seemed to be the one thing that made him slightly annoyed. Every conversation you had with him usually ended with a pinch of his nose bridge, a sigh, and a dismiss with the wave of his hand. Your bratty attitude towards him was almost bearable until it wasn't.

In a cliché fashion, Zhongli had asked you to come to his office in the afternoon when classes finished, and you did.

“Are my teaching methods not good enough for you?” You can hear the exhaustion weigh on his words as he pushes himself off the chair to stand.

You don't respond, the words seem to dissipate in your throat the moment he begins to scold you.

“What is the issue? I'm trying to understand,” A hand grabs your shoulder, and you lift your head to glance at Zhongli's face. He wears the classic 'teacher expression,' one that oddly reminds you of a parent.

“I'm more of a hands on learner,” you shrug, and its apparent in Zhongli's face that he picks up your little tease. There's a slight confusion in his eyes before it's masked to be unreadable. A sigh leaves his lips as his hands move to cuff the edges of his sleeve up, sliding his watch off and placing it on his desk with a small thud.

“I'm willing to adjust my methods if it means you'll behave more accordingly.” He carefully grabs your wrist, guiding it towards the papers on his desk, planting your hand firmly onto the sheet. Zhongli stands behind you, his chest almost touching your back from how close he was. He lets your fingers trace the printed letters to study the content on the page, but it's all a jumble of useless words to you, especially when your attractive teacher is right behind you.

“This is boring,” you whine, trying to pull your hand from underneath Zhongli's.

“Are you having difficulty concentrating?” He asks, the velvety tone of his voice violates your ears like it's crawling through your brain. It's a tingly feeling you can't shake off.

“As if it would be that—” You're cut off by the involuntary hitch of your breath as his cold fingers grace the side of your waist. They travel down to your hips, sneaking under your pants before they retreat.

“Maybe some concentration exercises? To help you stop getting distracted.”

You swallow. Thickly. You're about to jab a snarky remark at him before you feel his hand push down the back of your head, forcing you to look down at the worksheets on his desk. His free hand wrangles his tie, pulling it off to bind your wrists together. Zhongli rests his hands on your hips as he leans into your ear, his breath hot against the shell.

“Do you want me to stop?” Zhongli's fingers rest lightly on the waistband of your pants, like he's waiting for the greenlight to pull them off. He's too patient with you—he doesn't pry at all—and when you don't give him a response he kindly removes himself from you.

“No— um,” You stumble over your words as he pulls away, unable to conjure a coherent sentence in your head to respond. It's almost like your pride is blocking your throat but you push out a few words, just so he knows.

“It's fine,” you breathe, quickly turning your head away from him to save yourself some dignity.

You don't see it, but he smiled ever so slightly, returning to his previous position. Zhongli's fingers slip down, slowly dragging the zipper lower as he watches your eyes fixate on the pages infront of you. His hands—oddly soft and warm—meets your pelvis before they slide down to the elastic of your underwear. With a small flick of his wrists, he's able to pull your boxers off and down low enough that it sits neatly at your mid thigh.

Your breath hitches and you drag your eyes away from the text and to his hands that are gently running up the sides of your thigh. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, using his free hand to tap the sheet infront of you.

“Focus. Eyes on the paper.” His hands pull away from your body—only to unbuckle his belt, though you misinterprete his actions—and you spin your head around to question him. He's already pulled his belt off and taps your forehead with the end of it. “Needy,” he scolds.

Fabric noises fill the empty office and you see him reach over to dish a packet from his wallet—he keeps those on him at all time. You recognise the sound, the latex rolling on, the slight snap as he fixes it to be more comfortable, and the feeling of wetness against your skin.

He uses his hand to push the back of your head down once again, “Don't pay attention to what I am doing, focus on the content.” He's probably mentioned the word 'focus' five times by now.

Zhongli uses his thumb to part your flesh, giving way for him to nuzzle his head against your hole. He's exactly how you imagined him to be, except all you can really feel is the condom rather than his skin, none of his veins and all—which was, really, the more important details.

Its a slow movement as he slides himself into you, gently kneading the plush of your waist—an absent-minded habit you assume. He's not excruciatingly thick; he's rather average, but there's something about the way he could reach so deep without causing any external pain makes your knees buck just a little.

All the words and educational paragraphs all become a blur the moment he fully sheaths himself inside of you. He pauses, letting you soak in the situation before he pulls out, only just to slam himself back in. Your little gasps and moans earns another cruel thrust, forcing you to arch your back as he holds you in place.

“It's difficult, is it?” He's using that teacher tone on you, but you can tell there's a slight mock in his voice as he watches you disregard the paper, crumpling it under your hands as you grip at anything you can.

“I can always assign you easier work if that makes you feel better.” He tilts your head back, letting you see him through the corner of your eye as he continuously pounds into you, the obscene sound of skin against skin loud enough that you started to worry the janitors wold hear.

“I can do it,” you grit through your teeth despite the pants and whispers.

“I don't think you can,” he cooes, gently holding your jaw as he lets you rest your head against his palm. The only reason he's holding your head up is to ensure you don't get a headache from how hard your body is recoiling from his thrusts.

He practically drags his cock in and out of you, angling his hips in a way that would hit your prostate almost every single time. His hands were gentle on your skin, holding you like you were a porcelain doll, but his thrusts were punishing.

As your whines grew, he knew you were getting close, seeing the way your legs trembled underneath you, barely holding you up. The hand Zhongli had on your hip moves to pick up your leaking tip in his hands, smoothing his thumb over the slit. He holds it there, denying you of any release.

“Are you ready to listen in my lectures?” He hums, leaning his head down to get a good look at your face.

“No more talking back?” he adds, marvelling in the way you're eyes dip in and out of focus. You nod, unable to find your voice from how hard you were yelling while he was hitting all the right spots. He flashes a polite smile, removing his thumb from blocking your urethra and gently massaging your tip to coax out a orgasm.

It hits you like a train, sparks darting across your vision as your dick stiffens, spurting out a copious amount of white all over Zhongli's desk. You go limp in his hold, chest still heaving from the intensity of your high. It takes a few more, slow pumps before he's pulling out, taking off the used plastic and throwing it into the trash can underneath his desk.

“How was that? Did I do your 'hands on learning' correct?” He could really enchant someone with that voice.

a / n : sorry this was short T T I just needed to get something out . I literally forgot how Zhongli acted halfway through so this is probably very ooc . . .

[allhopesforlove]

Farewell, my love: part 2

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, jealousy, and just more angst than before I’m sorry (not) :)

part 1

———————

He couldnt breathe. It was too much, too many feelings flooding him at once and it felt like little needles were prickling him all over his skin. It was getting hot and if he hadn’t been leaning on Elain he was sure that he would’ve actually fallen down on his knees. He was breathing faster and the constant flood of emotions and thoughts weren’t making this any better. He was scared. Scared to even think what this meant.

“Azriel, sweetheart, talk to me.. hey, hey look at me.”

But he couldn’t. He, he needed air. He needed space, because this didn’t make any sense. Why now? Why when he finally found the happiness he was looking for, for so many years? Why when he finally settled his heart for another and dared to bare his soul to her? Why now, when his fucking mate decided to take on something that’d cost her her life? Why was he put in a position where he couldn’t decide what and who to choose?

He still heard her heart, how it beat almost the same as his. Warmth spread around him and he looked up again to see the cause of all this turmoil inside of him. There, he saw her. His mate. His. Oh god, he had a mate. He felt tears already rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. Somehow, only looking at her already made him much calmer than before. She still looked at him with wide eyes as if she herself couldn’t believe what had just transpired between them and he couldn’t blame her, because neither did he. There was a sudden urge to just hold her and take away all her pain and-

“Azriel.”

He felt two soft hands cradling his face and turning it to the side to make his golden hazel eyes meet with brown ones. It caused him to break out of this bubble that was forming and he was brought back to reality. Elain, oh Elain. He- oh god- he really forgot about her for a second, because everything, well everything was so sudden and he actually didn’t mean to, because he loved Elain, with all his heart- his heart, he already gave it to her, he was hers as much as she was his- and he already felt another set of tears forming in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I want to help you, but you have to help me here a bit yeah?” She said while looking at him with soft shiny eyes and a small smile. The smile he fell in love with.

“Try to breathe along with me.” He was still shaking as Elain lead his hand towards her chest- her heart- to make him calm down and follow the same rhythm as hers. He tried to focus, he really did, but the constant flood of emotions really distracted him. So with all his strength he breathed in and out just as Elain did. He brought his forehead towards hers and closed his eyes. In. And out.

“Just like that, you are doing so great.” He felt a kiss on his nose and he had to smile at that. He was calming down a little.

“Thank you ‘lain” he rasped out.

And when he opened his eyes, Elain looked at him with such intensity that he needed a second to think. He really does love her huh. While the heartbeat of another was becoming more silent, it still was there. He took a deep breath and took the hands on his face in his own. Looking her in the eyes, he kissed the inner part of Elain’s hands and mustered up another set of words to reassure her.

“I am feeling better.” Elain smiled at that, however the confusion was still present in her eyes, and- oh god- she didn’t make this easier for him when she looked up at him with that soft gaze.

“Would you mind sharing with me what just happened?” She asked in an almost hushed tone, as if she didn’t want the other’s around them to know.

How was he supposed to explain to her what had just happened, when he himself still hadn’t any time to think. When so many thoughts were whirling around in his head and he couldn’t grasp to control them.

Elain must’ve noticed his confusion and hesitation as she reassured him.

“Its okay you can take your time. But you really got me scared here for a second Azriel and I, I just want to help you and know if you are-“ she choked on her last words and something in him felt so bad for not telling her instantly. For not choosing her instantly. For having thoughts of another in his mind. For feeling what another woman is feeling, for hearing a heartbeat and feeling a connecting string to another and it not being her? How could he tell her that it took all the strength in him to not just turn around and walk towards his mate to hold her in his arms, while on the other hand his mind and heart is yelling at him for forgetting all the promises he made to the woman standing infront of him for a second. A second that is a second too much. Because all the space in his heart is already reserved for Elain, there shouldn’t be any space left for another. But how could he explain to Elain that with every growing second he itches to just follow his instincts.

“I know this is confusing, trust me, I- I am confused but I, I- can’t and-“ he tried to stay calm and took a breath. Elain took his hands in hers again and encouraged him to go on with her eyes whenever he felt ready.

But ready he would never be, because just as he thought that he had everything under control, something inside of him jolted and made his head turn around sharply towards y/n. Alongside that, he felt a disgusting amount of hurt rolling over him that it took his breath away.

There she stood, tears rolling down her eyes while still looking at him. While Cassian was holding her wrist and trying to turn her towards him. He saw that he was saying stuff to her, but all the voices were quieted down by that ringing noise again. Now, if only he understood that she was crying because she saw her mate seeking comfort in another woman and that Cassian, along with his other friends, was only trying to understand the situation, was trying to comfort his friend, he wouldn’t have swatted off Elain’s hand this fast. He wouldn’t have taken charge towards Cassian. No, because this? This was pure male instinct taking over him. A male was touching his mate. She was crying.

His brain screamed at him to think for a moment before he took such rash decisions, but again, the bond had just snapped and all his emotions were running high, thoughts suppressed down by instincts. So he did what every mate would’ve done in his situation. He went to protect his mate.

—————————

The last thing y/n heard was the sound of Mor’s cries and Emerie’s words, because after that everything seemed to go silent and only a ringing was heard. A ringing from her opposite site, right where Azriel was standing. So she looked at him, looked how his eyes widened and how a string was forming to connect them. No. This, this couldn’t be right?

But an overwhelming amount of woody notes hit her nose and she became painfully aware that Azriel was unconsciously sending over his emotions. So much confusion and helplessness. She… she was his mate?

She felt the tears forming in her eyes while she didn’t know how she should feel about this revelation. The shadowsinger, the one person she has loved desperately for decades, the one person whose attention she never fully got, the one standing besides another, holding her hand, that person was his mate? And the bond snapped right before she signed her death warrant? Oh how cruel. How cruel all of this was, hasn’t she suffered enough?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, this was too much. And then Elain had to cradle her hands around his face. Her mate. She was touching her mate. She was furious, but realized too quickly that she couldn’t do anything about it. Because why did she feel less and less of Azriel’s emotions as he leaned his forehead against hers? This hurt, this hurt so much. Someone should’ve just gotten a knife and pierced it through her chest, because it would’ve promised her a less hurtful death.

This was agony, as she felt her brain carving in this sight in her memory so that she always remembered that even when the bond snapped between them, something so sacred, Azriel still chose another woman over her.

There was no place for jealousy in her when she saw Azriel placing little kisses in Elain’s hands as she only felt an enormous amount of pain and loss and grief, grief for something she didn’t have to begin with.

She felt like she was dying if it was not for Cassian noticing her sudden silence while the others were still arguing.

“Hey.. y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Hey-”

but she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t understand… why was his mate not looking at her? Why was it that another male was seeing her and not him? So she tried to look for something inside of her, she had to try breathing again, she needed to pull, pull on something.

And finally, Azriel turned her way, finally he looked at her. One moment he still had that sad look on his face when it suddenly turned into this eerie and intense gaze that felt like a predator sizing up his prey. She had never seen that look on him, his stare sending shivers down her spine. And suddenly he was moving.

—————————

His expression was carved in stone, a chilling coldness radiating from his gaze. Fists already clenched and ready to pounce on someone, feet moving with fast precision and his target clear. The bond in him shining brighter and encasing him completely. He was going to protect his mate and make the male pay for hurting her.

“Y/n you are scaring us, what’s going on- oh- Az what are you- YO WHAT THE FU-“ and Cassian felt a scrunch in his nose. But before he could stand up from the ground he felt Azriel already pouncing on him. What. the. fuck.

Azriel didn’t care. Didn’t care if the male in front of him was nearing his death with every punch he threw his way, and when he felt other arms trying to force him away from the male, he growled and felt so much strength course through his body, because no matter what, he was going to make this male pay and no one could prevent him from doing it.

No one; but apparently a strong pull within him. Because he felt his mate again and looked up instantly from the ground where he was just punching Cassian. And from this near he could see her eyes more clearly- a green color with a soft touch of brown and blue. She was ethereal and he was mesmerized by this woman standing in front of him. His mate was gorgeous. Just like that his heart started pounding faster again and for a moment he felt his ears reddening, because how could this beautiful being belong all to him?

“Are you alright?” He almost wheezed out at her, because he lost all his stamine to fight Cassian- wait. CASSIAN. Almost instantly he scrambled up and looked down to see a bloody faced Cassian laying on the ground.

“What has gotten into you Azriel?!” Rhysand screamed at him. And rightly so. The High Lord had struggled to get into his shadowsinger’s mind to yell at him to stop after he couldn’t get him off of Cassian. But he had been met with an iron wall, which is why he couldn’t reach Azriel.

“Brother I don’t know, if you just got possessed by something but damn if you needed to let off some steam, warn a guy beforehand yeah?”

Cassian tried to lighten up the mood a bit, because what had just transpired was far from normal, far from the Azriel they knew. And quite frankly it scared him and made him worry for his friend. From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta rushing out the tent she was in with what looked like some healing supplies. Thank god, he couldn’t feel his face.

Azriel looked frantic. His head was spinning and he couldn’t think clearly. What had he just done? He looked around him and saw his friends attentively staring at him, some worried, some scared of what he might do next.

“What were you even thinking?” He met the cold stare of his mate. Of y/n. God. A mate. She wiped the tears of her face with fast movements and stood tall again. And before he could respond her

“Azriel..?” And there, the voice that made his toes curl whenever he heard it. However, he wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face her. Amongst all, she had seen him do this. She had seen this side of him, but most of all she was probably confused by his actions or maybe she got a clue, he didn’t know. He needed to get out of here, but their situation didn’t really allow him, as he was reminded of their conflicting conversation before the bond snapped. As if nothing happened, as if the bond hadn’t snapped, and as if he hasn’t caused such a big scene mere minutes ago, y/n turned to Rhysand once more.

“Breaking this to the soldiers will be a tough one, I am sure all of them will understand that our charge means nothing but promised death. I just hope they’ll follow along.”

Then a pause. He saw her trembling slightly but whatever it was she snapped out of it and a deathly coldness radiated off of her.

“I will wait for your command Rhysand.” There she stood, like a perfectly trained warrior, someone who was drilled into this role.

“Y/n are you just going to ignore wh-“

“Rhysand.” She really was going to do this?

“We are in the midst of something bigger. Our enemies-” she pointed towards the Northern side, where she knew Hybern soldiers resided.

“-they won’t wait for us to take our sweet time to discuss these matters. We don’t know when they will charge next, but damn it if they get to us before we get to them, all of us will die on this battlefield, I can assure you that! We need to move and we need to do it faster than them.” She heaved out.

Rysand looked at her with an expression that pained her, he looked conflicted, like he was struggling to switch between his role’s of a brother and friend and his role as the High Lord of the Night Court.

Of course he knew that all y/n was saying was true, but damn it, he’s got the feeling that if he doesn’t interfere now, if he doesn’t press on the matter more, he would regret it for the rest of his life. That Azriel may regret it for the rest of his life. He looked at him then, at Azriel’s disheveled and unmoving form, as if he was in a trance. He waited for him to intervene again, but when nothing came out of his brother’s mouth, he made the decision.

But not before talking to his mate. Are you sure of this? She asked in his mind. We’ve got no other choice Feyre he returned sadly but determined. And then he spoke out what he always feared most towards a member of his close circle.

“You may leave whenever you feel ready. Thank you for all of your services soldier.” He had to. he needed to switch to his High Lord tone, because if he didn’t get ahold of himself it would mean their ultimate death. Of everyone.

Y/n just sharply nodded towards him, because they couldn’t do emotional farewells now, not now, when she knew that she and all the others would break down and they wouldn’t actually let her go. And by that she would just endanger the lives of everyone. She didn’t want that. So she and Rhysand had to act their roles. With that, without taking another look at her friends, she turned around and headed towards their military base.

But she was suddenly grasped by another force that turned her around once again.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll just let you go!”

The way her heart started fluttering faster when he hold her hand was almost too pathetic. However, she couldn’t do this with him. Before, this was always what she had wanted, but now… now everything has changed, she couldn’t get herself to be influenced by his sweet words.

She looked him in the eyes then.

“Please let go of me Azriel, you are making this more difficult than it already is.”

And she told him the truth. This was difficult for her. Knowing that her mate stood right before her, that she may have a chance to maybe, she didn’t know but .. but it hurt that only now, only now that he was forced by the bond he started to care for her. This is definitely not what she wanted, not this way. So against everything that the bond demanded of her, she pushed his hand out of the way, but he grabbed for her again.

“Difficult? I am making this difficult? Are you out of your mind? So you want me to stand here as if nothing happened between us? As if we aren’t-“

“Don’t end your sentence shadowsinger.” And he looked pained that y/n almost surrendered to kiss his frown away and take away all the sadness in his eyes. She snapped out of it. She couldn’t do this to him.

“You want to act like I belong to you all of a sudden? Who gives you the right to tell me what or what not to do? I made my decision, end of discussion. So now if you would please kindly let go of my hand.”

But he didn’t. Rather he strengthened his grip around her.

“Y/n, I understand that this is very bad timing, I understand your anger, but we need to talk about this before you make decisions of life and death, don’t you understand!”

He was trying so hard to find the right words, afraid of saying something that may aggravate the situation even more. Afraid of losing his mate before even having a chance at life with her. God, he still couldn’t believe it.

“Okay, then I got a question for you and you have to be honest with me.”

She needed to stop, she needed to stop self sabotaging herself.

“Ask me and I’ll answer truthfully y/n, I swear it to you.”

He didn’t know what came over him, but all he wanted for now was bring his mate back to safety, have more time to think this through more thoroughly.

“You want me to come back with you, but can you actually promise me that you are going to accept this bond with me? Are you actually going to leave Elain for me? Someone you chose out of love rather than obligation? Be truthful shadowsinger.”

Whatever he expected her to ask him, it wasn’t this. He- no he, he couldn’t make that decision now, not now, he needed more time to think, for the past minutes he hasn’t been in his right mind so how .. how could he possibly answer her without giving her false hopes.

“I…” and he looked into her pain filled eyes. He visibly shook as he felt her side of the bond. He was causing this pain?

“Y/n, you need to understand that I can’t- I can’t promise you that now. I don’t want to hurt you, but Elain she-“ he thought of choosing his words carefully “We have been together for a while now, and I can’t lie to you that I suddenly stopped loving her because the bond snapped. I am confused and I need more time-“

she gasped at that and god he wished he could make this easier, could prevent her from getting hurt

“-and I am aware that this is the most selfish I can get. Please, just, please don’t go there-“

her tears were already falling uncontrollably and he couldn’t hold back his own ones. He wished someone just ended him right then and there, so that he hadn’t had to see the agony in her eyes.

“-please allow me to just have more time so that I can sort this all out, I don’t want to hurt any of you, it is the last thing I want-“

“Do you actually hear yourself?” she whispered in a tone that made him want to stab himself for making her sound so helpless.

“Do you hear how selfish you are? I tell you what shadowsinger, if I can’t be your first choice I dont want to be a choice at all. I have loved you for so many years already, I have desperately wanted what you gave other women in your life, but if a bond is what gets you acting all caring towards me, then you can go to hell with that.”

What.

She loved him?

How come he never noticed her, how did he let it get to this point?

“… for how long?” he asked with widened eyes.

He was scared of the answer and judging by her reaction it wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Too long for me to count.”

She sounded almost resigned, almost like she just wanted to be put out of her misery.

She felt the stares of the others, so she looked behind Azriel and saw how everyone was holding their breaths and waiting for something to happen.

One piece of eyes, however, pierced through her, one pair of hurtful glassy eyes that made y/n happy and sad at the same time. But she couldn’t blame the woman, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame Azriel as well. They chose each other and she was the other woman. She tried to stay calm.

“Azriel… you have to forgive me for my outburst, but try to see it from my perspective. I know our situation isn’t quite fair, but we can’t choose fate. This is where it has brought us. Do yourself and everyone a favor and go back to your woman. She is waiting for you.”

It took everything in her to choose these words, to fight against her will, to fight against her desires, her want to sling her arms around him and claim him for herself, to show everyone that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him, to love and care for him how she had wanted to for so many years. To look him in the eyes and and declare her love to him and to finally feel that mouth of his on hers to test if it tasted how she had always imagined.

But she couldn’t.

While her words pierced through his soul, his grip on her loosened and she took this as her chance.

“I am sorry, I wish.. I just wish I could have been better, but- but y/n this doesn’t mean that you have to die for this.”

“I’d rather not live when my mate loves and nurtures another, Azriel, so please forgive me for-“

“But you don’t know what the future holds!”

She applauded his resilience and to be frank she didn’t expect this much fight for her from him, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Dont act like you would actually choose me Shadowsinger, you never did.”

And with that she broke the last piece of his soul that was still standing. Because, because she was right. He never chose her so why would she believe him? This beautiful, strong woman in front of him, who has carried so much hurt because of him, was he selfish for asking her to live?

He was numb. And he just wanted this anguish to end. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jolt, while he heard y/n talk again.

“Let go of me, let go of that little piece of me that has formed in the past minutes. It will be easier this way.” Y/n told him with resignation.

No he- he couldn’t do that, this couldn’t be the end for them. He wanted to step forward but the hand on his shoulder held him back, so he wanted to swat it off, because he had to get to his mate.

But another pair of hands was stopping his way to his mate, so now he got really irritated and tried to fight them off.

“Get your fucking hands off of me-“ and his vision suddenly became blurry as he heard his High Lord’s voice in his mind you need to let her go, she has already made a decision for herself. No, no! He was not letting her walk off to her death, he-

and while he tried to fight off every force trying to hold him back from her, he heard her distant voice Farewell, Azriel.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her blurry form walk off and disappear from his vision.

—————————

A/n: Whewww here is the second part! I never imagined I would go this direction or this far with the story but here we are 😭 First of all I want to thank everyone for your sweet reactions to the first part, this really means a lot to me, because this is my first time writing ever so thank you for your kind words <3 Secondly, I hope this was what you expected for the continuation of the story and that I didn’t leave you hanging. I am also open for any ideas and suggestions, so please don’t shy away from suggesting <3 The third part will probably come out a bit later than this as I have to focus on uni stuff again, but dont worry I wont leave this story as it is!

Again if you have some feedback, I would love to read what you think, and if you want to be added to the taglist just inform me :)

Oh and please tell me if the taglist worked!

Tag list:

@kingshitonly @phoenix666stuff @blackgirlmagicforever @dragonsandrinks @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @isa1b2h3 @curlyhairkk @jencole214 @willowpains @thestartitaness @romantasyreader28 @highladyofhogwarts @wrenisrad @minaaminaa8 @meritxellao @blepskies

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-eight —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

France feels just as haunted by ghosts, the kind that cling to silence.

The next morning, you follow the road south near the Belgium border under a punishing sun and suffocating humidity. Sweat pools under your clothes as you leave the coastline behind, passing overgrown rose bushes and grand estates crumbling to rotted beams. Without the raft or truck, supplies rest on everyone's backs, lighter now with all the food you’ve already gone through—a stark reminder that you’ll need more soon.

You were the last to wake, stirred from a deep sleep by the sounds of bags being packed. It shouldn’t be surprising—you’d slept well after two orgasms. It’s a miracle the night’s events didn’t spill into your dreams, but now, in the daylight, keeping them at bay is harder. Thankfully, Kyle and the two kids create a buffer as you all follow Price’s lead. Their presence helps keep your eyes from drifting to him. You force your gaze on the passing signs, making a mental game out of trying to pick up on some French. It's distracting enough. So far you've gathered that sortie means exit and allez means something like go. 

The first break comes when your shoulders burn from the weight of the backpack, the straps biting into your skin. You slip it off with a groan, sinking to the ground, and nurse the canteen of water. Just enough to wet your throat and keep the dizziness at bay—rationing is a habit.

Price's plan echoes in your head: Méteren by nightfall. That’s ten hours of walking, minimum. Your toes throb at the thought, each step promising fresh blisters, but you force yourself to focus. The faster you reach Switzerland, the safer you’ll all be. If the place they heard of is actually waiting there.

"Hey. Do you want this?"

Blue lowers beside you, offering a near-empty jar of peanut butter she was snacking on.

"Not much left but it's really good," she shrugs. 

"I'll finish it off, thanks."

The salty taste is not exactly refreshing, but you choke it down anyway, the boost of protein more of a necessity than a pleasure. Blue pulls at the grass beside you, her gaze drifting to Ari, who’s sharing food with Kyle. You try not to look, but your eyes flick to Ghost anyway.

The mask is still on, as always. Why is he obsessed with it, even after you just saw him naked? Despite its presence, you can still see the furrow between his brows as he pores over the map with Price. Sweat rings the collar of his black tee, and his biceps flex as he gestures down the road. You’re definitely checking him out when he catches your eye mid-conversation, adjusting his mask, and without missing a beat, you turn your attention back to Blue.

She is staring at you, her brow furrowed.

You instinctively touch your neck, your thoughts racing to the bruise hidden beneath your hair. 

“Do you think he likes him?” she asks abruptly.

You blink. “What?”

“Ghost,” she whispers, leaning closer. “Do you think he likes Ari?”

Relief floods you. “Oh. I mean, sure. He's a good kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” she corrects with a huff. “He’s thirteen.”

“That’s still a kid, Blue.”

She rolls her eyes but hesitates before adding quietly, “He kissed me.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down. And don’t tell Ghost.” She pinches your arm, her cheeks reddening.

“I won’t,” you assure her. “But… when? How?”

“The other night, when we kept watch. Just on my cheek, but still.” She pulls her knees to her chest. “He's cute. I think I like him, but… what if he doesn’t actually like me? What if he just sees me as a kid?”

Her uncertainty tugs at something deep in you. “Have you talked to him about it?”

She shakes her head, looking horrified. “No way. What if he doesn't feel the same? It could get weird.”

“Then kill him,” you deadpan. At her glare, your lips twitch. “Fine, I’ll kill him.”

She snorts despite herself. “Be serious.”

“Okay, how about this—just ask him, ‘Why did you kiss my cheek?’ Keep it simple.”

Blue considers this, her expression softening. “I could do that. But it has to be when Ghost isn’t around. Which is almost never.”

You're telling me. You pick at your nails, avoiding her trusting gaze as your chest tightens. 

The sound of Price's boots back on the gravel ends the break.

Even after the brief rest, your limbs drag with exhaustion for the next few hours, but the extra calories push you forward. You make it to Méteren before nightfall. As the guys pitch tents, you rip off your socks to survey the damage. Open blisters stare back at you. With only so much gauze in your kit, you've been hesitant, but you cut a conservative strand and wrap up your heels. 

Behind a bush, you change from your sweaty clothes and hope there is freshwater somewhere to wash them in the morning. You dab a rag with a bit of water from the canteen and scrub the biggest offenders; armpits, between your legs, the back of your neck. Changing into a clean shirt, the sound of them unpacking the sleeping bags beckons your heavy shoulders and sore legs. You head back to the tents, ready for sleep, when you overhear Ghost volunteer for first watch.

"Twix will help me."

You hope the surprise isn't visible on your face as you nearly drop your backpack, swinging your gaze at him.

"I will?"

"It's been a few days since you've taken watch."

Your lips roll together then flatten, shoving down the blush that crawls your neck at the thought of being alone with him. Kyle looks like he is ready to take your place, but you nod in resignation, clear your throat, and finish tugging on the zipper over your clothes. "Yeah, of course. I'll help."

The others disappear into the tents, and you turn to sit on a fallen log, bow in hand. But before you can settle, you feel his presence—a shift in the air just behind you, then the solid pressure of his hand curling around your forearm. Without a word, he guides you forward, pulling you with an ease that leaves no room for hesitation. Your body moves instinctively as he leads you out of earshot of the tents, behind an abandoned car. It is now you realize he's changed into a black hoodie and shedded the tactical vest. He leans his rifle against the side of the car and looks down at you, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"Did you take away my chance to sleep and pull me over here just to stare at me?" you whisper, arms crossing against the gentle breeze that has cooled with the fallen sun.

He exhales through his nose before responding. "About yesterday."

You blink at him, hoping you don't fail at hiding how even the mere mention sets your nerves alight. "What about it?"

The way his eyes move slowly over your face suggests he is searching for the words. Finally, he says flatly, "It was just fucking. A distraction."

"A distraction," you repeat slowly under your breath. The bluntness hits you harder than expected. You bite the corner of your cheek, a bit too hard, and you narrow your eyes. "You really think I don't already know that?"

His broad shoulders roll back in a shrug and his tone shifts far too casual for your liking. "I just didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

The wrong idea. You rip your gaze away, scraping your fingertips into your arm, before looking back at him with a forced shrug of your own. "I can handle fucking, Simon. Like I said, I'm a big girl."

There is an audible inhale, then a low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he leans in, his darkened eyes locking onto yours. He cages you in with his arms, the familiar heat radiating from his touch and already making your brain fuzzy. His hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you onto your toes as he tears off the mask and lays it on the hood of the car. The glimpse of his strong jaw and the flick of his tongue wetting his lips sends a shiver through you despite the lingering irritation at his words. 

"Yes. You are," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, before capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that feels like the deep, soothing release of sinking into warm water after aching for relief.

You could kiss him for hours, you quickly realize, pleasantly fascinated by how hot and demanding his tongue feels against your mouth. He tastes like how he smells. Pine and salt. You submit to the pace of his lips, every graze of his teeth making your heart thicken. You move your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp, pulling him closer.

"There's something I need," he mumbles, voice etched with a tremble of impatience, and his fingers clench your shirt. With his other hand, he blindly reaches for the car door and forces the rusted thing open with a few tugs. 

"What do you need?" you breathe out, secretly thrilled that he wants you, again, even when it's been only twenty-four hours since he last had you. The mutual desire erodes the fatigue in your limbs and awakens your arousal. 

Without an answer, he spins your bodies, easing into the passenger seat, then pulls you in with him, closing the door with a soft click. The position is awkward at best—your head bumps into the roof, one knee wedged painfully into the center console from the lack of space. The car smells like stale leather and dust, but thankfully not like rot. It's far from enticing, but none of that matters when he forces the seat to recline, creating just enough room for you to lay on top of him.

You can feel him, hot and straining within his jeans, as you kiss him again and begin to move your hips instinctively. It is a thrilling notion, that you have made him hard so quickly, and you wonder if he ever touched himself like you did, stroking his cock with a callused hand that he imagined as you. The image of it, in combination with the friction on your pussy, has you greedily reaching to undo his belt buckle. 

He breaks from your lips with a grunt and grabs your wrist. "Not that."

Huh?

You don't have the chance to question him before the notch in his throat bobs, and he begins unzipping your jeans, instead. "My face. Sit on it." 

The blush on your cheeks is hidden in the car's small, dark space. His half-lidded gaze lifts to yours, and you nod absently before helping him push your pants and underwear to your ankles, shifting awkwardly to discard them to the floor. His hand immediately moves between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your wetness with a sharp inhale. It should make you embarrassed, but it doesn’t—not with the way he watches you, his other hand peeling off your shirt, the whites of his eyes flashing over your naked body with such unabashed hunger that you realize it must’ve been simmering in him for as long as it has in you.

Again, you're the only one undressed. His hands knead the plush of your ass, the massage to your sore glutes drawing a moan from you. He pushes you up his chest and you move your knees, until his face is level with your cunt, nose caressing your throbbing clit. You have to grip the headrest of the backseat to keep yourself steady, neck craned. His palms cup the backs of your thighs, keeping them apart. 

He's already put his mouth on you, but for some reason, this time feels more vulnerable. You become unconsciously alert of the fact you are not the girl you used to be, the one who shaved every inch of her body before going on a date, and scrubbed her skin with perfumed body wash. You have been sweating all day in the French humidity, and not a single part of you is hairless. When he attempts to pull you to his mouth, you resist with a wiggle of your hips.

"You don't—we don't have to do this, you know. I mean, I haven't shaved in years and—"

He bites your thigh. "Stop talking."

"Ghost, I'm disgusting."

His brows furrow, confused, before he exhales a soft laugh, breath fanning your cunt. "I don't care."

You writhe. "No, seriously—"

"I'm a big boy, Twix," he throws back you.

His tone is final, and with that, he ignores your protests and tightens his hands on you, pulling you to sit on his jaw. His tongue licks a bold stripe from hole to clit, then back down to your hole, where he swirls it a few times before pushing in. Your mouth hangs open in a silent surrender. It is you at his mercy now. His mouth feels even hotter on your cunt for some reason, causing your head to lull forward because of the ceiling, hair dangling. 

Your nails scrape into the leather. His tongue fucks you, nursing the sore flesh that his cock had stretched. He pushes you down with more force, and meets the juncture of your thighs with an arch of his neck, pressing his face deeper. There is a small worry that he might not be able to breathe, but it is erased when his tongue visits your clit with a heady groan, the vibrations of his vocal chords making your muscles flinch. He circles it with a light pressure. You reach down to grip his hair, silently demanding more. He listens, pressing his tongue harder.

"Fucking... yeah, like that."

One of his hands glides up your stomach and squeezes your breast. He keeps sucking, toiling with your puckered nipple at a similar pace. Despite the uncomfortable position, your hips buck and thrash. Your hand slaps against the window as he makes a sloppy mess out of you. The overgrown stubble on his jaw scrapes between your tightened thighs and the sting adds to the overwhelming sensations. You attempt to lift off, seeking a break, but he growls and strikes your ass, forcing you back down.

He licks at you expertly, as if having figured you out in just a few minutes. You screw your eyes shut, a small but swift orgasm rolling through you when you hear him slurp at your folds. He gathers it with a sweep of his tongue, humming. The aftermath leaves your trembling, breath jagged, as a larger one grows towards release.

"Been thinking about that all day," he whispers against you, continuing his ministrations. "Got another one for me?"

His tone feels mocking and desperate at once. Your nails press painfully into the condensation-painted glass. Your other hand fists back in his hair, curling and uncurling, but there is no point in trying to fight it, not when he parts your cunt with his fingers so he can lick more of it. You cum again, harder, almost convulsing as your head bangs upward. It feels never-ending, your moans uncontrollable. He laps you through it, even more relentless, drawing the pleasure for a near-minute, until your lungs can hardly function and you feel like you might collapse.

Your body is pliant and jelly-like when it finally fades. He takes hold of your waist to keep you upright, and pulls his mouth away with a dribble of leakage down his chin. Already, you know it will be impossible to forget that sight, his eyes dazed as if he is the one who just came twice. 

His touch turns somewhat tender when he helps you back down to his lap. He doesn't bother wiping the obscenity from his mouth when he kisses the corner of your lips, firmly, then helps you slip back into your clothes since your brain doesn't seem to have full control over your limbs yet. It's when you place a hand on his thigh to shimmy on your jeans that you feel a distinguishable wet spot.

He finished, too.

The discovery makes your chest swell, and you nibble at your lip as you finish changing. 

"Thanks," you whisper to him. 

He doesn't say anything. He keeps the seat reclined and allows you to lay limp against him, feeling the uneven pace of his heart that matches your own. Clearly, he is a man of his word. This will not be a one time thing, even if it is just fucking. You sigh in sheer exhaustion from the day's activities, unable to ignore the weight in your eyelids as you inhale the residual musk in the air between your bodies. His chest feels firm and warm, a decent place to rest your head, and you think you feel a touch caress your hair. 

You are supposed to be staying up to keep watch, but he doesn't seem ready to move you. Somewhere between wondering how long you can keep this hidden from Blue, and dreading how far you will have to walk again tomorrow, you drift to sleep.

When morning arrives, you are not curled up in a car, but tucked in a sleeping bag. 

Ghost must've put you here, but you have no recollection of it, squinting your eyes against the harsh incoming of sunlight through the nylon walls. Nereida is in the bag beside you, not Blue, which offers a thread of relief. You carefully extricate yourself without waking her and join an awakened Price and Kyle for breakfast.

This morning feels slower than the last. Satisfied with the distance covered yesterday, Price is content with just making it to a town called Englos today. Then, you can focus on finding food and water during the evening. 

Your energy is replenished with tomato soup and stale crackers. Blue sits with Ari to eat, and you casually glance at her, but she gives you a subtle shake of her head. No, she hasn't talked to him yet. You offer a small, forced smile and look away.

The day's journey begins after what you would guess is around 8 am. As you walk, you redo your braids, tucking the strands into place so they don't stick to your forehead. Kyle falls in step beside you in comfortable silence, while Ghost moves to the front of the group. He treats you exactly as before—offering only the rare glance of acknowledgment. As if you hadn't just sat on his face last night. As if he hadn't ate you out like you were a source of sustenance.

Though, you’re grateful for his distance. It makes it easier to stay discreet. If he were to look at you too long, you might give yourself away.

It's just fucking.

Nothing but small towns and sprawling fields surrounds you. You pick up a few more words of French and think back to how your parents took you here, but never to the countryside. It's beautiful. Picturesque, even, except for the occasional skeleton tucked between ambery stalks of wheat. You pass through a place called Bailleul, where the remaining buildings remind you of England, when you spot black graffiti inked on a small clock tower.

N'allez pas à Fleurbaix.

"Allez means go," you murmur, stepping over some broken glass. "So what does n'allez pas mean..."

"Picking up a new language?"

You swing your head at Kyle, blinking, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction. 

"Yeah. I thought it might come in handy when chatting with the thriving local population."

He shakes his head in amusement. "Have you been here before?"

"When I was a kid. Once to Paris, and once to a ski resort."

"Ah. So you were one of those kids."

You frown. "What kids?"

"The kids who had money to go skiing."

You shrug, thinking back. "I mean, we weren't rich by any means. Just comfortable."

He nods, the companionable silence resuming as you replay the graffitied words in your head. N'allez pas must mean do not go. Do not go to Fleurbaix. You are about to ask Kyle if that is where you are headed when he speaks first.

"Are we good, Twix?"

His question throws you off guard. You make eye contact and he raises an expectant brow as if he is referring to something...

Right. He kissed you. It feels like forever ago since it happened, but it was only a week maybe. The memory almost makes you cringe, especially in comparison to what you've done with Ghost the past two days.

"Yeah," you dismiss breathily. "Yeah, of course. We're good."

He seems genuinely relieved by your answer, smiling with a sliver of teeth. "Good. I'm glad. I was an idiot and not in the right headspace. But still, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I've been trying to give you space."

"It's fine, honestly," you tell him. "We are all under a lot of stress."

He releases a breath, then brushes a shoulder against yours. "So we're friends, you and I? Or something like that."

You nod with a little laugh, shifting the backpack. "Something like that. By the way, do you know if we are going by a place called—"

"Gaz. Come here for a moment," Ghost calls.

His tone is abrupt, causing everyone to halt. Without question, Kyle jogs over, his boots scraping against the gravel as he moves toward Ghost, who is crouched on one knee, fingers brushing over the matted grass at the side of the road. You squint, trying to figure out what’s caught their attention, and step closer to get a better look.

"A lot of them," Kyle says quietly, his palm pressing gently into the flattened vegetation. Now, you can see it—clear signs of something recently passing through. The ground is torn up, the plants bent and trampled. "It can't have been long ago," he adds, frowning as he observes the damage.

Ghost doesn't look up as he responds. "A horde went through here. Maybe in the last day." He inhales the humid breeze, and shifts his gaze toward Price. "I can smell them from the east."

"We could run right into them if we keep following the D231," Price mutters, drumming his fingers on the rear of his gun. He glances at the nearest road signs, then unfolds the map. "We could shift west for a few kilometers, through Fleurbaix, then cut back toward Englos."

"I just saw something that warned against going to Fleurbaix," you speak up.

Ghost's brow rises. You ignore the nerves that prickle your cheeks beneath his stare. 

"I mean, there are signs saying keep out of everywhere by now," Kyle reasons. "That's probably from the start of the infection."

"It's either Fleurbaix, or risk a run in with the horde," Ghost says.

You nod, more so to yourself, and murmur under your breath. "Fleurbaix it is, then."

Bailleul fades at your backs as you keep moving.

The scent of Greys lingers in the shifting air, but it is difficult to detect amid the strong aroma of flowers that pop up in every shade, replacing the fields of wheat. Roses, violets, and some yellow one you don't recognize ornate the rolling hills for as far as you can see. The buildings turn more upright, strong stone that has yet to falter from neglect. You keep reading the signs, even though you don't have the map to refer to, and your spine tightens when you read Fleurbaix: 1 km. 

You unsling your bow without thinking, tapping your nails against the wood.

The road becomes a bit windier as it cuts through some small farms. You even spot a few cows roaming the overgrown pastures which Blue seems curious by. You notice more painted words on the sides of the homes: Nous devons expier nos péchés. It repeats a few times, but you fail to translate it. The only part that clicks is nous, which you think means we.

We something... something...

After crossing a small bridge over a dried creek bed, you excuse yourself to relieve your bladder.

"Keep going, I'll catch up."

You step over what looks like a metal dog chain left on the road and situate yourself between a tree and old BMW. Squatting burns your thighs, and reminds you of your dried cum on them that you've tried, yet failed, to completely wipe off. You clench your teeth as you pee, when there is a sudden sound behind you that makes you flinch, and you quickly zip back up before whirling around. A rat—your shoulders sink. It sits up on its hind legs and stares at you with beady eyes.

"I guess I'm just jumpy sometimes, little guy," you whisper, leaning in. "You would be, too, if you've had to deal with what I have." The rat doesn’t blink. "Right. Well, I’m sure Ghost would think this is incredibly sexy—me having a talk with a rodent."

You sigh, watching him scurry away, but then another rat darts over your boot. You jerk back, gaze following its direction to an old building—a schoolhouse or chapel, judging by the circular stained-glass window below the roof. Beautiful shrubs lines the sides, seemingly well-kept. The door hangs ajar, with more vermin pouring out in an endless line.

"Jesus. Quite a lot of friends you have, huh?"

You glance down the road. The others are still close but walking ahead. You should catch up. It's not safe alone. But against your better judgment, you step toward the door, pushing it open. Rats scatter underfoot as a thick, rancid smell hits you. Death—fresh and cloying, even more so than the flowers.

Blood streaks the stone floor inside, pooling where vermin feast. Splintered pews lead to an altar. You freeze. Lying there ceremoniously is what's left of a body, hardly recognizable—ribs torn through flesh, a dangling optic nerve, a mangled groin. A plethora of bite marks cleave through the remains. Bile rises in your throat as the sound of gnawing echoes through against the sun-lit walls.

But what truly grips you is the writing, in blood, draped over a small cross.

Nous devons expier nos péchés.

You whip around and run, the door closing heavily behind you.

"Simon!" His name claws up your throat.

[hellishjoel]

taste you

514 words // joel miller x f!reader

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word: book

warnings/information: smut!!! pussy pronouns!!! joel being a book boyfriend!!! oral f!receiving!!! fingering!!! dirty talk!!!

a/n: joel miller, you will always be famous. my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

Joel slowly nudges your legs open with a gentle guide of his hand, his lusty eyes flicking between your sleep shorts and the flustered look on your face. 

“This how they do it in your books?”

Your mouth is watering. You’ve never felt more attracted to Joel, all broad with his chest puffed and looking to prove something.

He’s noted how enamored you’ve been with a particular book series. One book after the other, he swears he sees you clutching one with new cover art every night. But whenever he asks about it, you clam up. 

He thinks, it’s just a book, right?

But after leafing through the pages of your most recent obsession left on the nightstand, he’s intrigued. 

There’s a lot of fucking sex in here. A lot. 

No wonder you always wiggle around in bed when you read it. You’re turned on as hell. 

This book was clearly written for the female perspective, but thinking about doing these things with you was getting him a little riled up, too. 

Now, he’s here, quoting similar lines from your book while his mouth makes out with your cunt. His tongue works slow and precise movements up and down your seam, moaning at the taste of you as your fingers comb through his greying waves. 

You whimper his name as he gently suckles on your clit, his tongue and teeth flirting with your sensitive bundle of nerves while his thick fingers stretch your throbbing pussy. 

“Joel,” you pant breathlessly, digging your head into the pillow as your stomach only tightens with immense pleasure. 

“Know she likes this,” Joel mutters with a smirk against your folds, his lips lacquered in your arousal. “Know this pretty pussy likes bein’ taken care of. That’s all she needs, someone to take care of her.” He curls his fingers, the tips gently massaging that special spot only he can service.

“Oh— shit,” you gasp, your thighs beginning to shake as your impending orgasm sinks low in the base of your stomach. “Joel, fuck, your goddamn mouth,” you groan his name as he attaches his mouth to your pulsing clit, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head. 

Everything he spoke was pure filth. 

“She’s so damn pretty, baby. Wet just for me. You know how much this turns me on? You laid out on this bed, takin’ what I give you. Eatin’ this pussy so good, you can barely talk.” 

Joel’s taunts make you whine, your body writhing against his possessive hold as he reaches up your front, his fingers toying with your peaked nipples. It’s just enough to push you over the edge, every nerve in your body set alight simply by what your books have taught him. 

“Holy hell,” you pant as he licks his fingers clean, a smirk painted on his lips as he writes the letter J on your thigh in your sticky arousal. 

“You can have your book boyfriends, I don’t mind,” Joel mutters as he runs his fingers along his square jawline, “but you’re mine off the page. Okay, baby?” 

What do you say?

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[beqitos]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♥︎ ͜͡⠀ㅤ ㅤ̤ㅤ⠀𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍?

𖥔 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇━━━𝗐𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺'𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

엔하이픈 형선 ─────⠀ㅤ 699 (in total) ♡ ◞ 𝗴𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 >< 𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲!𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗮 , 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, & 𝗲𝘀𝘁. 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽⠀⟡​ ⠀ℒ𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄

재즈 : not proofread !! i have massive writers block ㅎㅎ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 needless to say, he would be very shocked. you'd never have done that, nonetheless thought about it, so of course he'd look at you weird, glaring at you. "baby, give me a kiss." he'd pout, turning your head with his hand. once he did and you'd wiped it off, he'll most definitely tell you something about it. "did I do something? are you mad at me?” he'd say, being extra clingy, wrapping his whole body over you, peppering kisses all over your face, neck, just anywhere he could. when you wiped all of them off, that was his last straw, “yn. baby. what did I do to make you mad? are you mad?” he got up, pouted and thought back throughout the day. you tried to hold back your laughter, finally bursting out laughing once you saw his pouty face. “I'm sorry, it was just a prank.” you pulled him in a hug and gave the biggest smooch on his lips

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 he wouldn't notice it at first, unless you made it very obvious that you were wiping his kisses away. he'd had just come home, seeing you all comfy on the couch, slouching. “hey, baby, whatcha doing,” he said, flopping down next to you, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. “nothing, how about you?,” you wiped off his kiss. of course, since you did it immediately after he kissed you, he looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. you avoided eye contact, trying not to laugh, pressing your lips in a fine line. he pecked your cheek to make sure it wasn't some mistake. you wiped it off, and jay pouted now, knowing you were doing it on purpose. “can you stop wiping my kisses away.” you kept avoiding eye contact until he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “is this one of your pranks again? or are you mad at me?” he pouted even more. you ended up bursting out laughing and apologized to him with kisses.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 oh, he'd notice so fast that it'd give him whiplash. you'll just be sitting on his bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, until jake came in, and walked over to you. “hey, baby,” he pressed a kiss on your lips as you turned your head to face him. “I'm going to go wash up, I'll be right back.” you nodded, and not even a second after he turned around, you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, and jake noticed immediately. “what did you just do?” you furrowed your eyebrows to play along and shaked your head. “hmm.. okay.” he muttered and pressed a kiss on your lips before turning right back around. not until you wiped it off again, and jake definitely noticed this time. “why did you wipe off my kiss? don't you love my kisses?” he pouted, his eyes like puppies wanting something. you tried to keep your composure still, but making eye contact with him made you laugh out loud. “im sorry, baby, it was a joke” “well I don't like your jokes.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 at first, he wouldn't care, but if you kept doing it and doing it, he'll definitely say something. the first time you did was in the morning, when he was getting ready to leave and gave a soft kiss on your lips. you were half asleep so he didn't really mind it, but throughout the day, he noticed you kept doing it and decided to confront you about it once you both got home and you did it again, he glared at you. you were chilling on the seat of your vanity, retouching your makeup, and sunghoon getting ready to play on his pc. he gave you one last kiss since he was going to play for hours, and you wiped it off this time. sunghoon spoke up about it. “yn. why do you keep wiping off my kisses? I didn't do anything wrong that I'm aware of.” he muttered, waiting for your response. “no? why? and no, I'm not.” he pouted and went to give you a kiss again, and you shamelessly wiped it off. “YN STOP IT,” you laughed and apologized, giving him a million kisses.

© beqitos 2025. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[rafecameronssl4t]

C&L Airways || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: inspired by that scene in 50 shades of grey when Christian casually says he bought an airline lol

Warnings: just some rare fluff 🥰

Word count: 986

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the spacious room. The soft hum of the tv playing, accompanied by the occasional clink of plates and utensils as breakfast was underway. You stood at the counter, a damp towel in hand as you carefully wiped down Madeleine’s small fingers after she’d managed to smear blueberry puree across her cheeks.

Rafe stood across from you, leaning against the marble counter with a cup of coffee in hand. He was shirtless, his toned chest and defined arms on full display, the golden hue of his skin catching the morning light. His other arm was casually crossed over his chest, his expression relaxed but sharp, the way it always was.

Leo sat at the breakfast bar beside Madeleine, swinging his little legs as he dug into his scrambled eggs and toast. Occasionally, he glanced up at his baby sister, giggling when she babbled nonsensical sounds in response. Madeleine, perched in her high chair, was busy waving her tiny hands in the air, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every movement.

You brushed a stray hair from your face, glancing over your shoulder at Rafe. “Do you want to go shopping with the kids and I later?” you asked, your voice casual as you worked on Madeleine’s stubborn curls. Rafe took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on you. “Sure,” he replied, his tone low and easy.

You looked at him, a little amused. “When was the last time you went shopping, though?” Rafe’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “Houston, last week.” That caught your attention. Straightening, you turned to face him, an eyebrow arched. “Houston? What did you buy there?”

His smirk deepened, and he took another sip of his coffee, drawing out the moment just long enough to intrigue you. “An airline,” he said casually, as if he were talking about buying a pair of socks. You froze, blinking at him in disbelief. “You bought a what?” “An airline,” Rafe repeated, his tone nonchalant.

He placed his coffee mug down on the counter, crossing his arms fully now as he watched your reaction with clear amusement. You let out a breathless laugh, your hand resting on the back of Madeleine’s high chair for support. “You’re joking.” “I’m not,” he said with a chuckle. “Thoughts on C&L Airways?”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around what he’d just said. “As in Cameron and Loughrey?” “Yeah.” He shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Thought it had a nice ring to it.” Your gaze darted between him and the kids, who were entirely oblivious to the weight of what their father had just casually announced.

“You literally just bought another yacht and business jet like… last month,” you said, fixing Rafe with an incredulous stare as you adjusted Madeleine’s bib. “Yeah,” Rafe shrugged, utterly unbothered. “That’s for the kids.” You paused mid-wipe, turning to him with an incredulous laugh. “A yacht and a private jet, Rafe. For the kids? You know they’re still in booster seats, right?”

“It’s an investment,” he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Shaking your head, you placed the cloth down and gave him an exasperated look. “Rafe, you don’t just buy an airline.” “Sure you do,” he replied smoothly, his smirk growing. “When the opportunity’s right.”

You placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head as a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re unbelievable.” “And you love it,” he teased, his voice dropping slightly. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small laugh that escaped. Rafe chuckled, pushing off the counter and walking over to you.

His hand brushed your waist as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he turned his attention to Madeleine, who squealed with delight at his proximity. “Well,” you said, still a little dazed. “I guess I’ll have to add ‘flying on our own airline’ to my to-do list.” “Sounds like a plan,” Rafe murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

He glanced at Leo, who was grinning at him with toast crumbs on his face. “What do you think, buddy? Want to fly on C&L one day?” Leo nodded enthusiastically. “Can I fly the plane, Daddy?” Rafe laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. “Maybe one day.” You watched the interaction, your heart softening despite your earlier shock.

As much as Rafe could drive you crazy with his larger-than-life decisions, moments like these reminded you why you’d grown to love him—his undeniable charm, his devotion to the kids, and the way he always kept you on your toes.

[ditzydoe444]

jason notices mid sex that you are clutching your teddy bear so tight with tears in your eyes, it causes him to lose all since of control

MDNI 18+

mean!jason's little sweetheart ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

jason x reader

jason todd smut

you and jason had been going at it for hours like rabbits, the room was filled with the most lewd noises coming out of your mouth, skin slapping against each other and the bed creaking under his harsh thrusts. you were overstimulated to say the least, your puffy swollen folds getting abused by jason hitting all of your sweet spots. you may have pushed your luck by attempting to get on his nerves by prancing around in the tiniest silk slip on with nothing underneath just to get his attention, and now it came back to bite your ass.

“think you can do anything and just prance around however you like?” jason groaned as his large hands squeezed your waist so tight you were convinced it was going to leave marks. you shook your head, “n-no jay,” you whined pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut. jason let out a low tut, “well that’s what it seems like,” his tone sharp and unforgiving.

the sensation was all too much, jason was addicted to the way your cunt took him in, the small puffy folds accomodating his large size so well. “this fucking cunt loves me so much,” he grunted, “you’re just gonna sit there and take it? like a little whore?” jason muttered darkly. you turned to your side to see your brown fluffy teddy bear laying beside your pink frilly pillows, the innocent toy completely unaware of the lewd acts you are currently doing.

you were a mess, hair clinging to your forehead, tears streaming down your cheeks whilst saliva dribbled down the edge of your mouth. jason who was too distracted as one of his large hands went to rub your swollen clot, resulting in another pathetic whine from you, didn’t see how your fingers were itching to grab the teddy bear. the moment your fingertip tips reached the bears fluffy body you held it tight to your chest, your arms cradling it.

the moment jason’s eyes wandered up, seeing your body hugging the teddy bear so tightly like it was your lifeline, whilst your tears streamed down your face something inside him snapped. “this too much for you sweetheart? can’t even take dick can you?” he taunted, knowing how much of a brat you were at times, you shook your head, a small pathetic whine leaving your lips. “i-i can take it,” you mumbled, completely breathless whilst your body bounced with his thrusts alone.

jason let’s out a low chuckle, his head shaking slightly l, “doesn’t look like it sweetheart, you look like a whore you can’t even do her job.” a small pathetic attempt of a protest left your lips, your vision was already going blurry just from the pleasure. “can’t even take dick without hugging your teddy bear,” he raised a brow at the sight, there was just something about you hugging it that made his mind go insane. it was an adorable sight, and god he just wanted to fuck the brains out of you for it.

jason had pulled a few orgasms out of you since seeing you hug the bear, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear. “fucking you so good you need to hug a teddy bear?” he groaned, as his thrusts continued, his balls hitting your ass. “j-jay,” you whined, as you clung onto the teddy bear tightly once more. jason scoffed, “what now sweetheart? you’re already so pathetic clinging onto that.”

“ ‘m close,” you whined, your heels digging into his lower back. “then come, isn’t that hard doll, or do you want me to help?” he grumbled on your ear, “n-need help.”

jason would coax an orgasm out of you by simply squeezing your lower stomach, for some reason you always held it in, refusing to come. you felt his rough calloused hands touching your lower stomach, squeezing it softly.

in a matter of seconds you came, squirting on his cock, coating it. “there we go, wasn’t that hard was it?” jason whispered softly as he kissed your neck, admiring how you looked with your post orgasm look.

“can’t even get yourself to come alone hm?” jason taunts as he admired watching your come leak, “j-jay, need kiss,” you whined softly with a pout. it was a thing you guys did, he would treat you like a toy, degrading you and would kiss your tears away. “i know, i know,” he cooed softly before kissing your cheeks and wiping the tears away.

[yeoningz]

𝓑US𝓣 𝓨𝓞UR 𝓚N𝓔𝓔 𝓒A𝓟S 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 방찬

you can't seem to get away from your ex husband, no matter how hard you try.

⧼ 🩹 ⧽ 一 𝓹a𝓲r𝓲n𝓰 ⸝⸝⸝ ex husband!bang chan 𝓍 fem!reader 𝓲nc𝓵u𝓭e𝓼 ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ unnamed oc daughter

𝓰e𝓷𝓻e ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ non-idol au, smut, angst, porn with plot

𝔀arn𝓲n𝓰𝓼 ⸝⸝⸝ dubcon, street fighter and underground boxer!chan, criminal!chan, mentions of jail and gangs, graphic descriptions of blood and injury, toxic and possessive behavior, toxic ex!chan, manipulation, explicit language and sexual content, soft dom!chan, degredation and praise kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, dirty talk, breeding kink, impregnation mentions, clit slapping, daddy kink, squirting 𝔀𝓸r𝓭 c𝓸un𝓽. 6. 2 k | ⧼ 🥊 ⧽ 一 𝓽𝓸 𝓵i𝓫rar𝔂.

♫ 𝓫u𝓼𝓽 𝔂𝓸ur 𝓴nee ca𝓹𝓼 ❪ 𝓳o𝓱nn𝔂 𝓭on'𝓽 𝓵eave 𝓶e ❫ 一 𝓹𝓸m𝓹𝓵am𝓸𝓸𝓼e

[n𝓸𝓽e𝓼.] my first fic on my new blog! something shorter to start out with <3 this took me a little too long to write i'm afraid since it's my first go at angst themes but i'm pretty proud of how this turned out! this isn't proofread, so please lmk if there are any mistakes! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

THE KNOCK ON THE door makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, cutting through the peaceful quiet of your kitchen like a knife. You drop the pot you were scrubbing in shock, clanging loudly as you grip the edges of the sink in a futile attempt to calm the pounding of your heart. At first you think— hope— that you were simply just hearing things, your little skyline apartment falling back into an uncertain silence sprinkled with the pouring rain outside, an atmosphere that no longer felt comfortable. But the knocking starts again, loud enough to be mistaken as thunder, ringing in your ears like alarm bells. You nearly jump out of your skin, your hands shaking as they reach out to turn off the water faucet. There’s only one person who would ever show up at your door this late at night, and you’ve done everything you possibly could to avoid him for the past four months.

It couldn’t possibly be him. It had to be someone else, your landlord or a neighbor or a maintenance man or anyone. You hadn’t told him your new address, hadn’t spoken to him since the day you packed up your daughter and what little you had and left him, never looking back. But you hadn’t called for maintenance, and you hadn’t heard from your landlord, and the way that his fist beat on the door as if it had somehow offended him was unmistakable.

You consider, for a split, mindless moment, that you could simply ignore him. He’s just a man, after all— a weak, spineless one at that, underneath that intimidating façade he loves to hide behind. He’ll give up and leave eventually, you try to convince yourself, but you know him far too well to fall into that blind hope. The knocking only gets louder and more aggressive to the point that you begin to worry that he’ll wake the baby.

The thought alone is enough to get your blood boiling, a red-hot anger overtaking any amount of fear or trepidation that kept you back. You refused to let this coward affect your daughter, wake her up without a single thought or care when you had just spent hours gently rocking her to sleep. Not after everything you’ve went through to keep him away from her.

You hurl the sponge into the sink with a scowl before spinning around and storming to the door. You wrench it open mid-knock, leaving the man on the other side of it standing there with his fist outstretched and blinking at you owlishly.

The sight of him shocks you to your core, despite how much you had tried to prepare yourself— blood drips into his bruised, swollen eye from a large cut on his forehead, just barely visible behind his wet hair sticking to his skin. The rain washes it away, down his chin to drip onto your welcome mat, staining it a faded red in the outline of his scuffed sneakers. He’s drenched down to the bone, the sharp ridges of his pecs and abs visible through his white tee shirt, the thin dark jacket he had draped across his shoulders doing little to protect him from the ever-worsening downpour. His dominant hand he curls protectively against his bloody abdomen; the knuckles are busted, and his pinky finger is twisted unnaturally to the side.

You look back up to his face just in time for him to flash you a weak, wobbly smile, a wounded ghost of the ones that used to send your heart soaring and fill your stomach with butterflies. His plump bottom lip is split down the middle, a jagged crater that threatens to open even further with every movement he made.

“Hey.” he croons, dropping his fist to his side, pained little smile dropping into more of a wince.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” you hiss venomously, praying to any god that would listen that he couldn’t tell how badly you were shaking. “How the fuck did you get my address? Go away before I call the cops. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Come on, baby, wait—” you try to slam the door shut, but he catches it with ease, and even one-handed he’s stronger than you could ever hope to be.

“Don’t fucking call me that, Christopher. Answer my question.” You sneer, biting back hot, painful tears.

If any of your words hurt him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he extends his wounded hand, prying open his fingers with some effort to present you a bloody, crumpled wad of bills.

“For her.” He says simply.

Your eyes rake over the bills as if they were alien, hardly able to muster up the breath needed to scoff at him incredulously. “I don’t want your dirty money.”

You had a sneaking suspicion of just exactly where he had gotten that money from, it was written all over his busted, bleeding face— under no circumstances would you line your pockets with the bettings from street fights, feed and clothe your daughter with money that people had shed blood for. You had told him this when you had left him, given him the choice to leave it all behind or lose everything.

He chose the streets, and you kept your promise.

Yet you don’t have the strength to slam the door in his face, no matter how much you ached with the desire. Chan keeps the bills outstretched, the blood-smeared faces printed on them winking up at you, taunting you.

“Who told you where I live.”

“…A friend. Please, just take it.” He whispers, just short of begging. “I know how badly you need it. He told me you were struggling.”

“You don’t know anything.” you spit, but there’s no fire behind your words anymore. The rain has put it out, left you defeated, feeling betrayed, admiring how the streaks of lightning illuminate Chan’s hunched over silhouette. Your mind wracks itself for whichever one of his goons could have possibly caught sight of you, but you come up empty. You fear he may have found you through an inside source.

 Thunder booms in the distance, much like your heart. The helpless, desperate look in Chan’s big brown eyes sends the rest of your defenses crumbling to dust.

he tries to shuffle his way inside, and you let him— everything inside of you yells at you to stop him, shove him away and close the door, never to look at him again. But you don’t. You slide submissively to the side, open the creaking door open further for him to step into your living room. No matter how hard you try to convince your muscles to move or your mouth to open and retort, all you can do is stand frozen by the door, watching with wide eyes as he drips blood onto the carpet.

He tosses the stack of cash onto the coffee table, the bills unfurling and flying everywhere. You count six, maybe seven million won, all those zeroes staring up at you as your mouth goes agape.

You had been losing sleep for days over having to tell your landlord that you would be late on rent for the third time this year. Somehow, you feel like Chris knows that, though it was impossible to tell how— it brought you back to all the times before where you swore that he could read your mind.

It seems that he still could, even out in those dark alleyways, on the other side of the city. Tethered to him. Just what you were afraid of.

“You’re getting blood everywhere,” you finally manage to say, your usually strong voice timid and weak. “at least let me clean you up.”

Mindlessly, you scamper back to your kitchen, bending down to rummage through the cabinet beneath the sink. your first aid kit was still in there somewhere, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies and spare bottles, something from your old life that you had held on to just in case. It was as if you were moving in a trance, just sheer muscle memory, the situation all too familiar; you couldn’t count the amount of times Chan had come home just like this before, back when you were still together, beaten and staggering but grinning victoriously as you carefully clean and bandage him up. It used to excite you, even, in some sick, dark way. He never lost a fight.

But that was before you had gotten pregnant. Before the danger that lurked beneath the surface of your husband’s lifestyle creeped up on you and became all too real.

“I’m fine.” Chan replies gruffly, though the pain in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just want to see my baby girl.”

Your fingers freeze around the first aid kit, all the heat and color draining from your face. “You’re not seeing her.”

“You can’t keep me from her.” Chan replies coldly. “She’s my daughter, too.”

You jump to your feet so fast that your vision goes fuzzy, spinning around to watch with wild eyes as he balances his good hand on the wall and limps his way to the nursery. You hate how he still remembers where it is.

He smears a trail of blood across your tattered wallpaper. The sight of it shocks you into action.

“You get away from her!” You snarl, nearly leaping across the dining table to grab onto the sleeve of Chan’s jacket. “Don’t you dare go anywhere near her!”

He shoves you off effortlessly, his sheer strength nearly sending you flying back against the wall. “Stop acting like I’m going to hurt her.” He growls, making it to the nursery door in the time it takes for you to regain your senses. “You know I’d never let anyone lay a single fucking finger on her.”

He quietly cracks the door open and steps inside, leaving you to follow him biting your tongue— you can’t bear the thought of her waking up, especially now with Chan in the room. She hasn’t seen her father since she was born, and that was only because he had forced his way inside of the delivery room. He was essentially a stranger to her.

And, quite frankly, how she might react if she lays eyes on him again scares the shit out of you.

Chan staggers to the crib, quiet as a mouse, his large frame bending over the railings to look down into it. Your daughter lay on the mattress peacefully asleep, her little chest rising and falling with her soft, steady breaths. You’ve stared at her for hours before, studying every freckle, every wispy eyelash that brushed against her rosy, round cheeks. The way her nose is already starting to look like her father’s, his dimples forming around the upturned corners of her dainty little lips, always giving the impression that she was enjoying her dreams. Whatever they were, you took some comfort in knowing that they were, they’re better than what waits for her when she opens her eyes.  

Chan is nothing short of entranced, grabbing ahold of the crib’s railings with both hands, so tightly that his cracked knuckles were threatening to split back open. He gazes at her sleeping little form with a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before— a fire burning, but not one that hurt or destroyed. Not anything like the fire in his eyes you were used to. It was one that warmed and protected, the watchful, dutiful stare of a weathered knight in armor.

Something warm and heady swirls in your gut, unwelcome but in no way unpleasant. You fixate on his face, unable to look away, and watch awe-stricken as your ex-husband refamiliarizes himself with his daughter’s face.

“She’s grown.” He whispers, undoubtedly able to feel you breathing over his shoulder. His voice is flat and lifeless, but it starts to break at the end— he blinks hard, and you swear for a second that you saw his eyes shiny with tears.

“Oh, she’s a monster.” You reply easily, the rampant emotions swirling around in your head calming down at the sight of your baby peacefully sleeping. Talking about her is soothing, almost therapeutic. “Always hungry. The doctor says she’ll be nearly nine kilograms by the time she’s six months.”

“My little girl… she was so tiny in my arms…” Chan laments, lowering his eyes to look down at his hands. It was like he was looking at someone else’s, shocked by the dirty, bloodied state of them. He suddenly wrenches them from the railings and shoves them in his soaked jacket pockets, the act causing him to grimace with pain. In the peripherals of your vision, you see faint bloody fingerprints smeared across the white wood.

You struggle to keep your voice calm. “She’s gotten so big so fast… it feels like that day was just yesterday.”

Chan’s gaze hardens and grows cold again, his head spinning to stare you down with an ironclad sharpness. “Not to me!” he spits, gritting his jaw. “Not when you wouldn’t let me ever fucking see her, wouldn’t tell me where you were, how you were doing. I’ve been looking for you two for months. How am I supposed to keep you safe, my baby safe? I had to track my family down like dogs. What kind of mother keeps a father away from their child?”

Your shoddy mask of calmness cracks, red hot anger flaring back up again and rising to the surface. Your voice trembles terribly, but the disgust in your words is palpable. “She’s not your fucking baby, Chris! That’s my baby. Mine. You made that call before she was even born. You’re not her family, you’re hardly even her father— you’re nothing to her.”

The last comment strikes a chord within him. He stalks towards you, his dark eyes boring into yours, all that stormy emotion churning in them focusing directly onto you. Chan isn’t exceptionally tall, but you feel so incredibly small underneath him; he looms over you like some kind of predator, his lip curling back into a nasty snarl. “I’m nothing to her because you made it that way.” He seethes, his deep voice growing louder and louder. “Don’t you ever try to put it in my baby’s head that I don’t love her. Stop trying to convince yourself, for fuck’s sake— you both are absolutely everything to me, you know that. Everything that I do is for our future.”

You scoff. “If you really care that much about “our future”, you would have stopped this. Fighting for these clubs. The racing, the gangs. You would have listened to me and left it all behind, gotten a real job. Show me that you actually give a shit and aren’t just blowing smoke up my ass. You’re addicted to this, all of it. It’s sick.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Chan sneers, shoving his face up against yours. “You just can’t get it into your dumb, pretty little head. What kind of “real job” is gonna take an ex-con? Even if they do, I wouldn’t make nearly as much money as I can out on the streets. All I want to do is provide for you and our daughter; can’t you see that? I’m doing what I have to do to survive. My own future is fucking ruined. You two are all I have left.”

“And you’ll ruin ours too!” you laugh incredulously, directly in his face. “With all your blood money and all the enemies you make. You’re going to get arrested and locked up again, destroy mine and my daughter’s lives— fuck, you’ll get us all fucking killed! What if someone you beat wants revenge?! These are dangerous people, Chris!”

“That’s what I’m trying to protect you from!!” Chan roars, slamming his fist against the crib’s guardrail. His voice and the loud thump startles you, all three of you— you and Chan both peer down into the crib to see your daughter’s peaceful sleeping face screw up, her mouth opening to let out a shrill wail as she kicks out her little chubby legs.

Chan’s face falls, all the bitterness and anger leaving his body in a rush, like he had a bucket of cold water poured over the head. He looks the part, anyway, still dripping wet from the rain, tearing his eyes away from your own to stare down at your daughter as if she were a ghost. Your rage overtakes you to the point it can no longer contain it, your entire body shaking as you manage to grit out two icy words;

“Get out.”

Surprisingly, he does. He takes one last long look at your fussing daughter before slowly turning and shuffling out of the nursery.  Your eyes bore holes into his back as he retreats, expecting him to turn around at any moment with some more nasty words to sling your way… but he never does. He stays completely silent as he shoulders open the door, doesn’t even turn to look back at you as it clicks shut behind him.

Part of you wants to follow him, chase him out snarling and snapping like some guard dog, but your daughter’s frightened little cries tug painfully at your heart strings. Tears of your own pool in your eyes as you carefully lift her out of her cot and snuggle her against your chest, soothing your hand down her quivering back as she hiccups into your sweater. “Shhh, it’s okay… you’re safe, Mommy’s got you…”

You rock her until she falls asleep again, fighting the entire time not to break out into sobs yourself, and when you finally place her back down into her crib and slip out of the nursery, you’re not at all surprised to see Chan still in your apartment, hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands.

Your apartment looks like a fucking crime scene. For the first time tonight you’re able to take everything in, all the blood dripped on the floor and smeared on the walls. All the muddy shoeprints and puddles of rainwater. The cabinets under the sink are still swung open, your first aid kit left forgotten on the kitchen floor.

You don’t have the energy to be mad at Chan anymore, your gaze lingering back on his weathered frame. You don’t have the energy to feel anything except empty. Depleted.

Wordlessly, you pick the first aid kit off the floor and make your way to Chan. He lets you cup his face without a fight, raise it out of his hands so you can dab an alcohol pad against the cut on his forehead. The sting makes him wince, but he doesn’t try to move away, looking up at you with eyes full of stars as you wipe away the dried blood from his skin. The dim lamp by the couch cast dark shadows across his handsome face, bathing him in a sensual, intimate light. You can’t bear to look back into them, the way they make your heart twist painfully in your chest, deep chocolate brown so effortless to get lost in. You busy yourself with bandaging up his forehead, and then his lip, and then his busted hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Chan whispers softly, the question making you stop in your tracks.

“I… don’t know.” You admit after a long pause. You do it without thinking, just like when he first stepped inside. Your natural response after seeing him hurt so many times before, playing nurse while he boasts to you about his triumphs, fills you with empty promises and proclamations of love. Your hero, swearing to you that you were his savior. Everything in you still aches to soothe him, heal his wounds and numb his pain, be his guardian angel like you used to be before his suffering became your own.

If he were addicted to the fighting, you would be addicted to what came after.

“I know you still love me.” Chan professes boldly, a wild spark in his eye. “I know you do, baby— you know I love you too. More than anything. Why won’t you let this— us—work? Why are you trying to run away from me?”

Your fingers pause in the middle of wrapping up his knuckles in gauze, quivering slightly as you let out an agonized sigh. “It’s not about whenever or not I love you, Chris. I have to put our daughter first. I have to make sure she’ll be safe and happy.”

You barely manage to finish bandaging up his hand, your knotting work far from the best. The minute you let go of him he pulls you right back, his big hands enveloping yours and squeezing tightly. “She will be, I promise. I’ll keep both of you safe, never let anything happen to either of you— I’ve got the means to keep you protected no matter what happens. You’re my everything… I’m so lost without you.”

His bandaged hand slides up to caress your cheek, his skin so bitterly cold. “Channie…” you warn, but you’re the weakest you’ve been all night. Chan can see it in your eyes.

“I was so fucking worried about you.” He continues softly, hushed like he was kneeling for confession. “I’ve missed you so bad… please, baby, don’t ever leave me like that again.”

Breaking feels a lot like letting go. Dropping all your fear and worry, any semblance of rational thought to finally allow yourself to nuzzle into Chan’s touch. He knows you too well, always knows exactly what to say to get your walls to come crashing down, what to do to when the smoke clears and you’re left defenseless amongst the rubble. Because, underneath all the piling resentment and hatred, the divorce, the distance you’ve been fighting for, you truly do still love him. You fear you always will.

Your eyes flutter closed as you bask in Chan’s affection, preen under his loving gaze and delight in the way he cradles you as if you were made of glass— you feel so precious yet so fragile, yielding to a man strong enough to shatter you completely, leave you nothing but a pile of dust and broken shards.

You’ve never felt safer.

“God, you’re so pretty…” he whispers awestruck, under his breath almost as if he were talking to himself. His thumb maps out the curve of your cheekbone, down, down, down to your pliant, pouting lips. The pad of it is hardened and calloused, rough against the soft skin of your bottom lip, but the sensation leaves you aching for more; you open your eyes to bat your eyelashes up at him, open your mouth to invite his thumb to creep inside.

The flash of carnal, animalistic lust in his eyes sends a wave of liquid fire coursing through you, down your spine to where it pools heavy in your belly. You purse your lips around his thumb and suck it in deeper, hollowing your cheeks as if you were sucking on something else entirely. Chan groans deep in his chest, his other fingers curling tight around your chin to pull you towards him. “Fuck. Come here, babygirl.”

You surge forward to capture your lips with his, and he meets you halfway; the pillow softness of his lips are hauntingly familiar against yours, yet somehow they feel completely brand new, like uncharted territory in a land you’ve ventured in countless times before. Any chastity is quickly tossed to the side with the heady sensation of his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, the warmth in your belly heightening into a wild swirl. You’re shocked by your own eager response, opening up immediately to let him ravish your mouth with a forceful domination that left you weak. He pulls you effortlessly onto his lap, your legs spreading to wrap instinctively around his waist, the closeness of your bodies maddening. Your blood pounded in your ears, leapt from your heart with a scalding fire, and made your body tremble, senses reeling as if you had short-circuited. Clashing emotions whirled around in your head, but your consciousness had left you the minute your lips made contact with his. All you can think of is how passionately Chan devoured you, the force of his kiss almost punishing, like a soldering heat that bonds metal. Yet it felt like anything but a punishment, doused in a honeyed sweetness that called to you like a drug, dragged you under the waves of dreamy tenderness, filled your head with thoughts of how good it would feel to let yourself drown.

You kiss him back with reckless abandon, hands reaching out to hold him, anywhere you possibly can— the wispy hairs at the base of his neck, the worn leather of his jacket, the grooves of his defined muscles through the fabric of his wet tee shirt. He crushes you against him, swallows you within his big beefy arms, one of his hands running down the small of your waist to grab a fat handful of your ass. You gasp against his mouth as his touches grow bolder, massaging the globes of your ass and guiding your hips to glide against his. The outline of his half-hard cock pokes at you through his jeans, growing thicker and stiffer with every passing second, pressed perfectly against the curve of your cunt. Your sleep pants are thin enough to where it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all, and when Chan cants his hips up his bulge grinds right against your clit. He does it again, and again, until you’re squirming helplessly against him, panting and moaning into his mouth.

“Chan, we can’t do this…” you manage to stutter out between kisses, the reality of the situation finally beginning to dawn on you again. But Chan ignores your plea, his lips leaving yours to sear a path down your neck and shoulders. He nibbles at your skin, kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of your throat, distracting you enough to slide one of his hands to cup your pussy.

“Yes we can.” He croons against your heated skin, hot tongue escaping between his lips to lick a tantalizing stripe up your neck. “I can feel how wet this pussy is, baby, how needy you are for me. Just let me in, princess, let me take care of you…”

He slides his fingers down your covered slit, your clothes sticking to your mound with your sopping juices, drenched to the point you can’t possibly hide your arousal. Your engorged clit aches, empty hole clenches around nothing… you whimper pathetically in defeat.

“Come on, say it. Say you want me.”

You really were nothing but an addict. Addicted to the power he holds over you.

“fuck, oh f-fuck— right there!”

Chan knows every single spot inside of you to make you scream, his thick cock hitting each one expertly with each of his powerful thrusts. The angle he has you bent in makes you see stars, his big rough hands clasped tight around your ankles to push your legs up against your chest and spread you wide open— he’s never fucked you this roughly before, his feet planted on the mattress to pound into you animalistically, but even then there’s still a bitter tenderness to the way he holds you up against him, gazes down at you in rapture as you fall apart beneath him.

“Yeah? Right there?” He coos, deep Aussie accent dripping with poisoned honey, “Feel me all the way in your tummy, baby? Feel this fat cock splitting you open? Fuck, you’re so tight, sucking me in. Greedy little cunt.” He lets go of one of your ankles to press down on the bulge he’s made in your belly, your trembling leg curling over his shoulder in ecstasy as the pressure in your core increases.

“So deep!” you hiccup stupidly in reply, fisting the sheets as your world explodes and shatters behind your eyelids. His bulbous cockhead slams repeatedly against your cervix in a punishing rhythm, so deep inside of you that you mindlessly fear that he’s pushed through and was fucking your womb. “Deep! S-so fucking big!”

Chan growls like a beast, his efforts doubling in speed and intensity, “Missed this cock, didn’t you, princess? God, listen to how fucking wet you are. Hear how badly this cunt needed me?”

He emphasizes his claim with a particularly harsh thrust, your pussy squelching obscenely around him and filling your dark, quiet bedroom with loud, filthy noises. “C’mon, tell Daddy how badly you missed this.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you worry that you’ll wake up the baby again. Chan fucks you loudly and shamelessly, like he doesn’t care that your daughter sleeps in the room just across the hall... the thought reignites your anger.  You want to accost him, defy him, tell him that you didn’t miss him at all. That you weren’t desperate for him to make you cum and finally leave you satisfied after months of frustration. That you didn’t think of him at night when you played with yourself, or when you took another man to your bed, because as much as it agonizes you no other man has ever made you feel as good as he does. But you couldn’t string the words together, could hardly even think with how pleasure coursed through every fiber of your being. Besides, Chan knows when you’re lying.

“M-missed your c-cock,” you admit between whimpers and moans, your face burning with shame and arousal. “M-missed Daddy’s cock so fucking much, needed it so bad— oh, fuck, Chris, Daddy, please—!”

Chan snatches your hips and tugs you roughly towards him, lifting your bottom half up off the bed to fuck into you impossibly deeper. Your mouth falls open in a gasp of sweet agony, arching your back and tossing your head against the pillows. The show of sheer strength gets you impossibly wetter, your juices coating his heavy balls as they clap wetly against your ass. “Good pussy.” He grunts, his fingers digging bruising indents into the flesh of your waist. “Love this pretty little pussy— gonna fuck it ‘til it’s molded to my cock. Gonna ruin you for anyone except for me. This cunt belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby? God, look at you… taking it like such a good girl.”

His words make your head spin, a searing need building in your core, molten lava beneath your skin heating your thighs and groin. It feels divine, better than you ever remember… but it’s not enough to send you over the edge, give you that release you crave so desperately. “Need more,” you keen, “More, Daddy, please!”

“Greedy girl.” Chan chuckles darkly, the sound going straight to your cunt. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

You can’t respond, fucked so stupid you don’t know what you’re begging for— Chan tsks like he’s disappointed, letting go of your hips with one hand to grab a rough fistful of your hair. He tugs your head up to look at him, dark eyes dripping with lust and delicious dominance; you struggle to keep your eyes open, your vision swimming and your eyelids drooping from the onslaught of pleasure Chan continues to pound into you. “Too dumb on cock to speak? C’mon, pretty girl, tell Daddy what you want him to do to you.”

He tugs on your hair again, pain erupting across your scalp. It blends with your pleasure to create a heady, dizzying cocktail of ecstasy. You cry out in delight, letting go of the bedsheets to scramble for something sturdier to hold on to, ground you— your hands find purchase on your own tits, bouncing with Chan’s thrusts, and you knead the plump flesh with a wanton sob, your fingers twisting and pinching at your nipples hard enough to make you shake.

“My clit!” you finally manage to whimper out, broken and pathetic. “My clit, my clit— touch me, touch my clit, please!”

He does as he promised, leaning back to spit messily on your clit before letting go of your hair to circle the bud with his thumb. Your head falls back limply onto the pillows, hazy eyes rolling back in your head as you sob and hiccup in uncontrollable pleasure.

“Gettin’ close, babygirl? I can feel it, pussy squeezing me so tight— I’m close too, fuck, gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you!” Chan’s thrusts grow sloppy, his chest heaving as he pants open-mouthed like a dog. “How about that, hm? Want me to put another baby inside of you? So everyone knows not to touch what’s mine? I’ll breed this pussy so fucking full you’ll be dripping my cum for days…”

His words should scare you, should break whatever spell he’s put you under and have you begging him to pull out. But you’ve slipped away from reality, floating mindlessly in an erotic fantasy you’ve convinced yourself is too good to be true. You don’t want to wake up, don’t want to think about what lies ahead of you once Chan leaves your bed once again. You babble and beg for his cum, for him to bring you to your own climax, scratching deep red marks into his chest. They look at home amongst all the bruises.

“Tell me you love me.” Chan grunts abruptly, the rhythm of his thrusts slowing down to barely moving, his cock dragging along your gummy walls deliciously buy far too slowly.

You blink up at him in shock and confusion. “H-huh?”

“Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum.” He repeats, his eyes boring into yours, a knowing look in his eyes like he can see into your soul. “I love you so much, and I’m gonna show it with all this cum I’m gonna pump into this sweet cunt… don’t you love me too? Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, what you need…”

You’re just on the precipice of orgasm, teetering on the edge but unable to push yourself over, and your poor heart feels so exposed and raw… you can’t help but relent to him, succumb to his desires like you always do.

“I love you! I-I love you, Channie, Daddy, love you s-so much— ah!!”

His hips pick up to a speed that seems nearly superhuman, rutting into you wildly like an animal in heat as he grunts and groans, pinches your clit hard between his thumb and forefinger to make you scream. It feels so good, too good, and big watery tears roll down your cheeks as your body begins to vibrate with your orgasm. You’ve never cried during sex before.

“Let go, my love.” Chan croons, slapping your clit lightly. “Let it all out…”

Your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of explosive hysteria— with a shriek you squirt everywhere, all over Chan’s hand, belly, thighs, creamy droplets flying with every nasty wet thrust. Your gummy walls spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper as if to ensure you milk him dry. “That’s it, babygirl, cum for daddy!” Chan howls, intent on talking you through it even as he creeps closer and closer to climax himself. “Fuck yes, such a good girl, making a mess for me— gonna cum now, too, gonna breed this pussy! Ready for it? Gonna take it all, right princess?”

“Yes! Yesyesyes, please, please! Give it to me, daddy!”

He shoots his load deep inside of you with an animalistic growl, hot and thick painting your walls creamy white. It feels never ending, fat cock twitching with every spurt of seed he dumps into your womb, filling you up so much that thick globs of it spills out around him and drips down his balls to mix with the puddle forming on the soaked bedsheets. His legs give out and he collapses against you, gasping for breath with his face buried in your chest; you wrap your weak, trembling arms around his neck, and the two of you dissolve into breathless giggles as you slowly grind against each other ride out your highs. When Chan finally pulls out you see a foamy white ring around the base of his softening cock, sticking in his pubes.

You can feel your spent cunt leak his seed, dripping down your ass— Chan stares at in in awe, his fingers sliding up your sensitive folds to collect it and push it back inside.

“So beautiful…” he whispers, grinning as he admires your creamy bred pussy. His fingers at your hole makes you whimper in overstimulation, and you try to close your legs and squirm away, making him laugh. His eyes crinkle in that adorable way you hate to love so much. “You’re so beautiful.”

You don’t have the heart to make him leave, not when he runs you a warm bath and cleans you up so nicely. Not when he strips the bed and changes the sheets for you so you can lay comfortably, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Not as he promises to you that he’ll change, that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in his arms, that white picket fences are just over the horizon. You feel weightless, floating, satisfied… and that makes you feel sick.

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[amdiriel]

lonely

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: Reader, the second Archeron sister, finds herself overwhelmed by the sight of her sisters in their respective happinesses one day. Luckily Azriel stops by her room in time to comfort her.

WARNINGS: feelings of loneliness (real), fluff, Azriel being hot (that’s a given), slight suggestiveness at the end, first time writing

NOTE: hey, i’m diri! been sort of a silent spectator on this tag for a while but then i wrote this and thought hell why not!!

WORDS: 2.5k

main masterlist PART 2

•••

The emptiness of loneliness burned hollowly in my chest, blooming when I entered my room at last, stumbled onto my bed.

Pathetically, I just wanted what my sisters had. I didn't dare show it, but I ached to be held, loved, to love fiercely and be happily, healthily devoted to someone.

I wanted to be touched and adored. I wanted to build a life with someone. To not have to look, wish, hope, or dream about it anymore.

My knees curled up under my chin as I sat there in the nest of my bedding, looking blankly at the wall as the tears came.

I hadn't realized that I had been softly weeping until the knock came to my door. Fuck. I heard his soft, beautiful voice announcing himself, asking to come in.

When I don't reply, frozen in terror that he'll come in and see me in this state, Azriel calls my name again in question. I know he can sense me behind the door, and when I sniff, he calls lowly, "I'm coming in."

Panic sweeps through me as he pushes open the door, eyes falling on me in concern as I wipe at my face. The book he borrowed from me goes from his hand to a side table as he comes to me, forgotten. "Hey. Hey, what's going on?" he asks with the softest tenderness I've ever heard him speak. To know that it was reserved for me makes my chest ache for it even more, and another little sob slips from me. He sits on my bed and reaches for me, hands going to my arms and rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, shaking my head and trying to draw back and wipe my face. He doesn’t release me.

“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my arms. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Let me help you.”

I shake my head again, can’t seem to stop, trying to wave him off. “It’s not something you can help with,” I rasp. “It’s my own shit, I’ll deal with it—“

“Tell me what’s going on.” His tone brooks no argument.

I can’t speak for a long moment, for several long moments. The words are embarrassing, stuck like molasses on my tongue. To say them would be to humiliate myself. But he isn’t relenting. I realize that five hundred years of extracting information from people as spymaster had made him patient in a way I could never outpace.

“It’s just hard,” I finally settle on, not quite processing my own words. “It’s hard seeing them—my sisters, I mean. Sorry, I think I’m just tired, out of it—“ He shakes his head with a squeeze of my arms.

“Stop trying to excuse your feelings. It’s merely how you feel,” he murmurs, watching me carefully. A breath puffs uncomfortably in my chest, but I go on.

“I’ve always made myself content in the fact that something like that didn’t really happen to people like me. I’ve never known why,” I rasp, the color finally rising in my cheeks as I gear up to admit, “But I’m—“ I choke. “I just see them and I feel so lonely.”

His expression shutters and his eyes soften. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking my arms. To hear that word from his lips is already a shock, but knowing it’s directed at me makes me fall apart more.

“I’m not one for self pity, ever,” I get out as another cry raises the pitch of my voice. “I just feel so alone.”

A huff of a sigh leaves Azriel’s lips and he draws me forward. “Come here.”

My breath shudders in my chest as I try not to lose it, try to calm myself as the tears stream hotly down my face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I feel ridiculous. It just hurts sometimes. Right here.” I rub my chest where the hollow ache is.

He hums and soon I’m in his arms. He gently scoops me onto his lap and tucks my head into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, so strong, and smells so good that I shudder again and let myself break in his embrace.

His hushing and stroking over my hair lulls me as every bad feeling seeps out of my body. He holds me quietly until my crying ceases, until my shaking stills. Until I am merely breathing tiredly against him.

I could fall asleep like this, could die peacefully here. His hand strokes my hair again. “Feel better?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that rumbles in his chest, therefore mine.

I blush profusely at how ridiculous I’m being, but make no move. I nod. I can’t move, can’t look at him. I must be the silliest, most ridiculous woman—female, I correct mentally—at my age that he’s ever seen. He’s centuries old and has a better grip on things than I do. I know he feels bad for me, but any respect he had before must have loosened considerably in the minutes he’s seen me in this state.

As I’m trying to overcome my embarrassment, he strokes my hair softly and begins on a murmur, “I get this way too. I feel it right in my chest, like you said. I have for a long time.” I don’t dare breathe or move. He’s revealing very vulnerable feelings and I fear one move will scare him off. He sighs. “It is difficult—seeing everyone pair off and be happy. Just as difficult to see my brothers as it is for you to see your sisters that way. But you aren’t alone. You’re never alone.”

I sigh, whispering haltingly, “I know. But—it isn’t the same, is it?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t,” he concedes, “But you shouldn’t doubt that you’ll find that. You’re more than deserving of it.”

A little flutter in my chest, and of all things, a smile blooms on my face. “You are too, Azriel.”

I feel his smile against my hair.

I sigh and draw away even as my body screams in argument, not looking him completely in the eye. “I really am sorry. For—this.” I gesture nonsensically between us, eyeing the wet stain at the collar of his shirt with a small wince. “I really am not usually like this,” I grumble.

His soft chuckle draws my eyes to his face, and I find him looking down at me softly, amusedly. “I know. You’re usually very formidable, self-assured. It was a surprise to see you so…” I raise my brows as he searches for the word, something he usually never has to. “Weighed down,” he settles on.

I don’t know what to say. I settle on a small shrug of my shoulder as I take my sleeve and wipe my face again, sighing as a calm settles over me again.

When I glance back over at him, he’s still observing me quietly. “What?” I croak.

“Nothing,” he says softly with a shrewd yet not unkind look in his eye. “It’s just funny.” I frown, but he continues on before I can interrupt. “You give yourself a private moment to let it out, then you reset. Like nothing happened.”

I feel a heat in my face at the accuracy.

“It’s funny because, well,” he shrugs, “It reminds me of myself.”

I glance warily over him with questioning tilt of my head. “You don’t seem like the type to deal in self-pity. Or crying at all for that matter,” I reply wryly.

His lip curls in amusement, and something hot curls in my stomach at the sight of it. My expression remains carefully composed, as it always is. “I have my moments,” is all he says.

I roll my eyes, shifting on the bed and sniffing. “Cryptic as always too.”

His laugh is quiet yet rumbling, and even though we don’t touch anymore, I feel the sound tumble deliciously through my muscles and bones, all over my body. “There she is,” he practically drawls, mirth lighting his hazel eyes. Cauldron bloody boil me.

Then he softens again. “But know that anytime you feel like this, you don’t need to wait for a private moment to yourself. Come talk to me,” he offers. Tingling warmth blooms in my chest. In my handful of years since turning fae and finding my place in Velaris, he’s been a kind but somewhat infrequent friend due to his busy nature. “What you feel isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and I’d rather you not bottle it all up.”

I eye the impenetrable Spymaster again, brow raised. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, aren’t you?”

He laughs in earnest now, and I watch in wonder as it lightens his features. And again that sound—

I’d been careful not to let my foolish mind not delve too deep in daydreaming about the silent, beautiful specter I had met in my house in the human lands those years ago. Everything about the fae then and even now had just seemed so elevated above my little life. And as hard as I worked, as skilled as I had become with my new body and abilities, I still felt like a complete novice, like a schoolgirl amongst grown men and women most days.

So no. I would not be the fool that fell for the male way above her very modest level, not when I knew he’d be too nice about it, and make me feel even more like the fool.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice breaks through my reverie. He’s eyeing me with amusement now, and a hint of fondness.

I force the heat creeping to my cheeks way down within the depths of myself, determined not to make more of a fool of myself than I already have. “Just wondering why you came in here. I wasn’t—“ A blush rises to my cheeks in earnest now. “You couldn’t hear me crying from the hall, could you?”

He shakes his head, hands creeping forward over my bedspread as though to placate me. “No, no. I just came to return the book you let me borrow,” he replies gently, and again my eyes fall to the book he had dropped on the table near my door as he came in to comfort me. Oh. Right. “You were right. I did like it.”

A small smile creeps up on my lips. “Of course I was right.” He chuckles again, and I relish that I can make him do so.

“Will it inflate your ego terribly if I tell you that you have surprisingly good taste?” he drawls. I let out a playfully indignant noise and gently shove his shoulder.

“Says you. You may be quiet, Shadowsinger, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you peacocking more than once,” I toss back. He draws closer with a little grin. Holy fuck.

“Well when I’m as talented as I am, why shouldn’t I?” he purrs, the most Rhys-like I’d ever seen him. I hold onto my composure for dear life.

“Yeah, well, you can take your peacocking and incredible talent off my bed and out of my room,” I retort with a scowl, shooing him as I fight blushing like a schoolgirl. He laughs, but slides smoothly off my bed and stands, hands raised in mock surrender.

I realize then that he had taken me from my depressive state, comforted me until I calmed, then goaded me until I smiled and bantered with him again.

His eyes go from mirthful to soft, and a beat passes where he’s looking down at me still sitting on my bed, and me at him. His lips quirk. “I’m glad you’re alright. Come to me with anything. I mean it,” he reiterates with gentle firmness. I nod my head.

He begins to leave, but I blurt his name and he halts. As soon as he looks at me again, I murmur, “Thank you.” He nods his head once, eyes kind.

I expect him to turn, to leave. But he steps toward me. I still as his hands gently hold the sides of my head, and he drops a single kiss to my hairline. I don’t move or breathe until he leaves the room with one last look at me over his shoulder.

My door snicks shut and a rush of breath leaves my mouth as my hands fly up to my face. My back finds the duvet.

I was fucked.

—

Azriel walks leisurely down the hall from her room back to his once more, musing on the hour that had just passed in her room.

He’d always found the second Archeron sister to be the most interesting female he’d ever met.

Clever, strong, funny. Beautiful, absolutely, in her own way. She was interesting to look at—that counted far more than conventionally beautiful.

The kind of person you don’t let get away.

He’d have to play this carefully. Had he had thoughts these past two-three years about the fact that they were both the remaining unmated ones of their respective sibling units? Yes. But he knew that even as it drew the two of them together in a careful dance around the line, it could also end very poorly if that was the only assumed reason that he wanted her.

Which it wasn’t.

Sometimes he curses that of his brothers, he hadn’t met her first. He could have, should have wooed her. Then, at least he could be enjoying the same felicity his damned brothers were currently enjoying with two of her sisters.

But she’s proving to be a tough one to crack.

It was no matter, he decides. He hadn’t failed to notice at least some attraction on her part. But she brushes off most things with a clever joke, much to his frustration.

Tonight had been a step forward. Even as it had killed him to see her in such a state, he thanked every bit of fate that led him to her room as she had been breaking.

So he could be the one to hold her, put her pieces back together.

He could have held her in his arms, in his lap until the day he died.

But he knew getting her to come back out, to grin and tease him again was more important than his selfish desires. And gods, what a sight she was when she did.

It was no matter, he thinks to himself again. He’d be patient. He’d be the person she’d lean on until he could make her want him. Maybe she’d allow him to touch her in the way he envisioned in his most needy moments in the dark of night. He enters his bedroom and sighs.

Fuck. It might be another one of those nights after all.

•••

NOTE: hey so uhhh if literally anyone cares i’ll make a part 2