#my knee feels really wrong but it’s not swollen or anything so i don’t think it’s broken or sprained it just got hit real hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maysileeewrites · 3 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN?

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Targ!reader || 18+; MDNI!

Synopsis: Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you. He hadn’t meant to interfere, either. Yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, finally claiming what’s his - honor and propriety be damned.

c.w.: smutty smut!! (fem masturbation + Jace watching reader without her knowing it at first, so some slight dubcon elements?; piv sex, unprotected sex, implied loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving), hair-pulling, mild breeding kink, mild praise kink, soft!dom Jace) Targcest - Jace and reader are cousins (&that’s the closest degree of incest I’ll write); infidelity

word count: 4.2k (oops??) || Jacaerys masterlist

AN: I really don’t know what came over me, this really is just filth with barely any plot, someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these thoughts … Also, I love Baela, but for the prospect of some forbidden love, we’re gonna have to go behind her back here.

Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you.

Truly, his only intention in coming to your chambers had been to check up on you, seeing as you’d been so unusually quiet and withdrawn during dinner.

He wasn’t prepared for what awaited him when he cautiously opened your door after you hadn’t answered either or his tentative knocks.

The sight before him had him frozen in shock, rooted to the spot.

You - stretched out on your bed, wearing nothing but your thin nightdress that had already slipped away in some places, revealing your breasts as well as the soft skin of your upper thighs - and your swollen core, already leaking slick.

Jacaerys couldn’t help himself - he stood, transfixed, watching as your back arched off the bed, your fingers desperately moving in and out of your cunt.

He shouldn’t watch. He should go, now.

This was wrong on so many levels, he tried to remind himself.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch, mesmerized, as your fingers moved in and out of your core in a desperate pace. Greedily, he took in every breathy little moan, every squelching sound your cunt made.

This was wrong, so wrong.

This was a private moment he’d never been meant to witness, and oh - there was also the small problem of you being his fiancee’s sister.

He should go, now.

Your eyes were closed, so you hadn’t seen him yet, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

It’s what he should have done, what he should still do, but he can’t bring himself to look away from you.

Jacaerys doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, watching in a desperate, heady fascination as you desperately try to bring yourself to satisfaction.

He knows that it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t be watching you, should have turned around the second he saw what you were doing, but he doesn’t care.

Honor and propriety be damned, he thinks as he runs a hand through his dark curls in distress, feeling his breeches growing tighter by the second.

Just then, you moan, loudly and desperately.

„Jacaerys.“

Jacaerys’ eyes widen in shock, and he can’t help himself, he steps even closer towards your bed.

Again, you moan his name, your face screwing up in pleasure.

He feels his heart beating faster, his breath becoming more and more erratic.

Your movements have become even more desperate, you’re rocking back and forth on your bed, your fingers desperately trying to chase your high.

The only sounds filling the room are your whiny, desperate moans and the squelching sounds your cunt makes.

Jacaerys knows that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching you, but he can’t help himself greedily drinking in every one of your breathless moans, and every single move of your fingers.

„Oh Jacaerys, please-“

There’s his name again, this time followed by a broken moan and he bites down hard on his lips, desperately fighting the urge to move his hand down to his now impossibly tight breeches.

„Jace, oh gods-“

Hearing you moan his name like that breaks something within him. Caution and thought are forgotten. Instead, what remains are only his yearning and desperate desire to finally claim you as his.

He can’t contain himself no longer, can no longer ignore the sensation of his breeches feeling so impossibly tight, can no longer ignore all the desperate, lust-driven thoughts running through his head.

„Don’t stop, Princess.“

You hadn’t mean for this to happen.

You’d never intended to lose control like that, to behave so wantonly and improper.

But after seeing them laughing together at dinner, seeing the way he’d so easily leaned into her touch, seeing that easy understanding between them, seeing the way his eyes seemingly lit up with warmth whenever your sister so much as looked at him, you hadn’t been able to stand this gnawing feeling of desperation no longer.

Quietly, you’d excused yourself from the table, walking to your chambers.

But neither the warm bath your maids drew you, not the book you tried to immerse yourself in could ease that itch underneath your skin.

Baela is your sister and Jacaerys is her betrothed and you should be happy for them, happy for the fine match they make.

But instead, the only thing you feel is jealousy and this consuming, all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys.

Your sister’s fiancé, yes, yet the only man you’ve ever desired.

And so, you’d found yourself tossing and turning in your bed, until you’d frustratedly thrown your sheets to the side.

Biting down hard on your lip and drowning in guilt and shame, your hand had moved between your legs, and as you’d started to pleasure yourself, you started to imagine yourself in Baela’s stead.

You were the one Jacaerys would marry.

You were the one sitting next to him at dinner, laughing and talking and it was your touch he leaned into so easily.

It was your touch he craved, and your pleasure he wanted to bring about.

These were his hands on you, his fingers moving in and out of you, bringing you to bliss in a rough, desperate pace.

His lips were leaving featherlight kisses all over your body - your lips, your neck, your breasts, your stomach - while he continued to pleasure you.

And you were so caught up in chasing your fantasies and your pleasure that you didn’t hear the quiet, tentative knock on your door, neither the sound of your door opening.

You still haven’t noticed Jacaerys, too caught up in the heat building and building and building in your stomach to notice him walking closer towards your bed, running a hand through his hair in distress.

The sound of your moans covers his own erratic breathing, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure to notice anything else besides the fire slowly building within you.

Until you moan his name.

„Jace, oh gods-“

A shuffling sound, like someone fixing their clothes, followed by a quiet sigh. Your own?

„Don’t stop, Princess.“

You open your eyes in shock.

Panting and breathless, you both stare at each other.

„Jacaerys“, is the only thing you manage to get out, your voice breathless.

Holding your gaze, Jacaerys starts unbuttoning his coat.

„Don’t stop“, he repeats, and there’s a certainty and sense of authority to his voice you’ve never heard before.

And you’re so surprised, so overwhelmed by all these different emotions coursing through you - shame and anxiety upon being discovered by him of all people, yet there’s still your undying desire for him, and heat is still pooling in your stomach, you’re so close - that you do exactly as he says.

You pick up your pace again, burying your fingers within your cunt again, all the while looking at Jacaerys who’s biting down hard on his lips.

You’re all too conscious of your nearly naked body and the squelching sounds your cunt makes as you continue to move your fingers in and out of yourself, but then Jacaerys groans loudly, running a hand through his hair, all while still holding your gaze, and all your self-consciousness is forgotten.

„By the Seven, you’re incredible, Princess“, he breathes.

His voice breaks something within you, and all you can do is give in to the mounting pleasure.

Your eyes never leave Jacaerys’ as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers moving in and out of your cunt, your other hand gripping tightly onto the bedsheets.

Jacaerys waches you, greedily taking every little movement, every single one of your broken moans in, as he continues to undress himself.

His shirt.

His belt.

His boots.

When it’s just his breeches, hanging low on his hips, remaining, he closes the last bit of distance between you, sitting down at the edge of your bed.

For a moment, you stop in your ministrations, too distracted by him. He’s perfect, his chest toned and muscular, just like a sculpted statue.

But then your eyes land on the visible bulge in his breeches and your breath hitches. Suddenly, your fingers aren’t enough anymore, you want, no need to see him, feel him filling you up.

„Jace, oh gods-“

Another broken whimper leaves your mouth, and blindly, you reach out for Jacaerys with your free hand. His hand finds yours, and he interlaces your fingers together, his grip strong and sure and steadying as the heat building in your belly becomes almost too much to bear.

„Jace, I can’t - please“

By this point, you’re an incoherent, whimpering mess, and besides his hand gripping yours, he hasn’t even touched you yet. Just then, he leans down, his free hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

„That’s it, Princess, come for me“, he whispers, before he lowers his lips to your neck.

The added sensation of his lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck is too much, and so, you follow his command.

Your back arches off the bed and you hold on to Jacaerys’ hand for dear life as something within you unravels and white hot pleasure washes over you.

You’ve never felt this way before, could have never even imagined that something like this could even feel so good.

When it’s over, you fall back onto the sheets, panting. When you open your eyes again, you immediately find Jacaerys’ gaze. The realization of what just happened washing over you. Seven hells, you just pleasured yourself with your sister’s fiancé watching you, guiding you through it.

But then you see your own burning desire mirrored in his dark brown eyes, and any thoughts of shame, guilt and regret are forgotten, at least for the moment.

You’ve long since passed the point of no return, and so, you don’t even hesitate before winding your arms around Jacaerys’ neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

He makes a soft, surprised noise, but that’s as much of an upper hand he’s willing to give you, because immediately the kiss feels fiery and hungry. The way his lips move against yours is almost bruising, and when he coaxes you to open your mouth, all you can do is comply as his tongue claims you.

One of his hands starts moving over your breasts, making you whimper when he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, and then gently rolls the stiffened bud between his fingers. His other hand starts moving lower, first over your stomach and your lower abdomen, but then his fingers move over the inner sides of your thighs and your breath hitches in anticipation.

Jacaerys immediately notices your reaction, breaking away from the kiss for a moment to look at you. „Greedy, aren’t you?“

„Jacaerys, please“, you whisper, your hands moving to tangle themselves in his hair and when you tug at his dark curls, he lets out a pleased groan, and you know that he’s yearning for this to happen as much as you are. „I want you, Jacaerys. So take me, make me yours, claim me-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by another hungry kiss and a broken moan leaving your mouth when his hand cups your clit, his fingers moving over you swollen, already overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Gone is the gentle and composed Jacaerys, the regal prince that carries himself with poise, elegance and grace. Left in his place is a desperate man, slave to his most primal desires, yearning to finally make his longings come true.

His kiss continues to leave you dizzy, and combined with the sensation of his hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, you feel the heat begin to pool in your stomach again.

Just then, Jacaerys moves, shifting in his position, and you whimper when you can feel his erection straining against your stomach.

Panting, you break the kiss, looking at him. „Jace-“

He smirks. „Patience, Princess. I want to taste you first.“

Your eyes widen and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as the full meaning of his words sink in. This is beyond your wildest fantasies, even. When you’d imagined yourself with Jacaerys, he was always the one taking you, in various positions, and sometimes he even had you on your knees, pleasuring him with your mouth.

„But - but what about you, Jace?“, you whisper, eyes searching his.

At your words, his eyes visibly soften for a moment, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Don’t worry about that yet“, he says, looking at you again, before slowly moving down your body. „But do tell me if something I do is not to your liking“, he adds, the gentler, more composed side of him returning for a brief moment.

You nod, though you can’t imagine in the slightest that that might be the case.

When he sees you nod so urgently, Jacaerys just smirks.

He doesn’t say anything else, instead, he lets his lips and hands speak for him.

As he starts to kiss his way down your body, leaving featherlight kisses on your neck, your sternum, your breasts - which has your breath hitching and your grip on his dark curls tightening - your stomach, your lower abdomen, your hips; his hands continue to move over your body, one hand occupied with your breasts, the other still between your legs, still drawing teasing circles over your clit.

„Jace“, you moan, when he leaves featherlight kisses on the inner sides of your thighs, all the while continuing to tease your bundle of nerves with his fingers, but not doing anything else just yet.

And just when you think that you can’t take any more of his teasing, he sucks your clit into his mouth, before his tongue dives between your folds.

„Oh, oh gods-“, you moan, grip on his dark curls tightening.

This is so much better than your own fingers could ever be.

The arrogant, knowing smirk Jacaerys gives you as his tongue continues to move in and out of your core tells you that he knows exactly the effect he has a you, and he enjoys it.

He’ll ruin you for any other man - in more ways than just the obvious - and he’ll ruin any other man for you, but you don’t care.

Can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue continues to work you up to a frenzy, while he applies pressure to your bundle of his nerves with his thumb.

The heat is building and building and building, and you can feel that it won’t take much more for the coil you snap.

Just then, his tongue reaches a particular spot that has you seeing stars, and you moan, eyes screwing shut in pleasure.

��Yes, right there, please, Jacaerys, please-“, you whimper incoherently, hands tugging at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

He continues to lap at you in earnest, reaching that spot again and again and again, you don’t think you can handle much more of this. The building pressure is too much to bear, and just then, Jacaerys’ tongue reaches that spot again, and you break.

Dizzying waves of pleasure wash over you, threatening you to drown you, as your back arches of the bed again and something inside of you explodes.

Jacaerys takes it all, takes everything you give him, the harsh tugs on his dark curls, your legs shaking, and your juices flooding his mouth. He takes it all, greedily drinking in every last drop.

„Oh, seven hells“, you pant weakly, falling back into the sheets, your whole body feeling like jelly.

Your second orgasm leaves you much more wrecked and spent than your first, and you don’t even notice Jacaerys moving up again, until you feel his fingers gently stroke over your cheek.

„You’re amazing, Princess“, he tells you.

You open your eyes again to see him leaning over you, his lips still covered with your juices, his nose still glistening with it as well. To you, he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment, and so you don’t even hesitate before pulling him down for another kiss.

It’s messy, with strings of your slick still connected to his lips, and you think that it should feel weird that you can taste yourself on his lips, but it doesn’t, it just feels utterly amazing.

And even though just mere seconds ago, you’ve been trying to catch your breath, feeling your heartbeat accelerate, it’s you that deepens the kiss, you, who boldly moves a hand between you, cupping his clothed erection.

Now that you’ve had a taste, you feel that you won’t be able to stop until you’ve had it all, until you’ve felt him, really felt him, move inside you, filling you up to the brink.

Jacaerys groans when your fingers move over his clothed erection, his kiss turning even more desperate, until he breaks away, panting.

„Are you sure?“, he asks you, leaning his forehead against yours, looking down at you with pure, unfiltered desire in his eyes.

You nod, moving your fingers over him.

He groans again, but when his eyes find yours again, there’s a dark edge to them. „Are you sure? Sure you can take another one?“

Oh gods. His words, and the dark, sinister tone in which he says them has you biting down on your bottom lip.

You nod, again, and finally Jacaerys gives in, leaving another bruising kiss on your lips before sitting up and taking his breeches and small clothes off.

You watch him, too afraid to even blink, and when your eyes finally land on his erection, you swallow, whimpering. He’s so big - when he finally claims you it will surely feel like being speared open.

And yet, your desire once again wins out, as you reach out your hand once again, cupping his now bare member.

„Fuck“, Jacaerys groans, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure.

This only spurs your confidence, and now, feeling bold, and driven by this all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys, you begin stroking his member up and down in earnest, your thumb stroking over the tip, sticky with his pre-cum.

Jacaerys groans, driving his hips up into your hand. His hands settle on your waist once again, and his grip turns almost painfully harsh as you continue to edge him on.

Just then, he slaps your hand away, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Keep doing that and I won’t last much longer, Princess“, he says, his voice oddly strained.

His brown eyes find yours once again, and in them, you same the same desire and longing you feel mirrored back at you.

„But-“, you start to protest, but Jacaerys immediately silences you with a finger to your lips.

„Some other time“, he promises you, and you seem to light up at his words. You know that this should never have happened and that there should never ever even be another time, but just the prospect of that excites you.

„And you promised me another one, didn’t you?“

And just like that, all the gentle playfulness has vanished from his words, leaving only lust and desire in its place.

You nod, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as Jacaerys positions himself at your entrance.

You watch, entranced, as he guides his member into you. But then, almost immediately, you hiss in pain when he breaches your walls. It’s not much more than the tip, but still, this so different from your fingers or his tongue.

Jacaerys stops, leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is gentle and soft, and you wind your arms around his neck again, finding both comfort and solace in it. And the longer you kiss him, the more you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

In fact, it’s you, crossing your legs behind his back, guiding him deeper inside you. The sensation is still somewhat uncomfortable, but Jacaerys’ loud, satisfied moan and the kiss that’s already turned deeper and more passionate, distract you from the pain, and as Jacaerys continues to sink even deeper into you, pain and pleasure begin to mix and you find yourself wanting more.

And so, when he’s finally bottomed out and looks down at you, asking „Alright, Princess?“, you just tangle your hands in his dark curls again, driving your hips up to meet his.

„Move, please“, you beg him, and Jacaerys starts to chuckle, but when you drive your hips up into him again, he groans, the feeling of friction too delicious to ignore.

Jacaerys begins moving in and out of you slowly, his hips driving into you in a leisurely pace - pulling all the way out of you, before slowly sinking back down again.

It’s torture, this pace he’s setting. The heat in your lower stomach is building and building again, but with the pace Jace is setting, it seems as if you’ll never reach the boiling point. You try to meet his movements, moving your hips up and down, but Jacaerys soon catches on to what you’re doing and his hands settle at your waist with a tight grip, keeping you in place.

„Jace, please“, you beg, tugging at his dark curls.

He groans, losing control for a moment, and thrusting into you harshly. The new pace and intensity has you crying out in pleasure, but then it’s back to long, slow thrusts and you feel as if you could cry from frustration.

„Jace, please, just - just fuck me, don’t hold back“, you beg him, your grip on his hair tightening. That, combined with your words finally gets his attention, and when he looks down at you again, there’s a new, dark gleam in his eyes. It’s as dangerous as it is alluring, and you feel completely caught up in his trap.

„Oh, so it’s like that, Princess?“, he says, his hips snapping into yours, and you cry out from the intensity. „You want me to fuck you, want me to fill you up, is that it?“

He doesn’t leave you any chance to answer him, his hips now snapping into yours with abandon, his cock driving into you with an intensity and pace that has you seeing stars. One of your hands stays buried in his dark brown curls, while the other moves towards his upper back.

For a moment, you worry about your fingernails leaving scratches on his back - but another particularly harsh thrust of his, combined with the sensation of one of his hands slowly moving towards your core quickly has you forgetting any thoughts not concerned with the current moment.

His pace now is brutal and you hold on to him for dear life as his hips piston into you, his cock continuing to spear you open.

„Jace, oh gods-“, you breathe out, biting down on your lower lip.

When he sees this gesture, Jacaerys just shakes his head, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. „Don’t. Don’t hold back. Let them hear.“

His words alone make you moan, and then, his thumb is there on your clit, steadily applying pressure as he continues to move in and out of you at a brutal pace.

„Jace, I can’t - oh gods-“, you groan, fingernails digging into his back.

„That’s it, Princess“, he whispers with another intense thrust, „come for me.“

And then, something within you breaks, and you come for the third time.

Your fingernails are digging into his back, your legs locked behind his back, and as Jacaerys continues to thrust into you, he can feel your walls clenching around him, absolutely squeezing him.

The sound of your broken voice, crying out his name, does him in and after thrusting into you once, twice, thrice more, he comes as well, shooting his hot seed into you.

The sensation is too much for your overstimulated core, and you whimper, your eyes screwing shut, as you hold on to Jacaerys for dear life.

Just like before, he’s there to guide you through everything - his free hand reaching out to grab the one you quickly untangle from his dark curls.

You hold onto each other as fire washes over you, white hot waves of pleasure threatening to drown you both.

This time, it takes you even longer to come down from your high, and when you do, your whole body feels like jelly.

Luckily, Jacaerys is there for you. He carefully pulls out of you, before gently scooping you up in his arms, reaching out for your bedsheets and drawing them over you both.

He presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, the action so gentle and innocent and so unlike anything else that just transpired between you two. He reaches out for your hand with one hand, interlacing your fingers together.

„By the seven, you’re incredible Princess“, he whispers, pressing another chaste kiss to your shoulder as his free hand slowly moves down your body again. When you can feel his hand lightly moving over your core, you can’t help but whimper.

You’re so sore and overstimulated, you’re not quite sure how much more you can take.

„There“, Jacaerys whispers, squeezing your hand as his fingers scoop up some of his seed that’s trickled down the insides of your thighs.

You whimper, incoherent, broken moans leaving you when you can feel his fingers pushing into you again.

„Sh“, he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop, Princess.“

So, uh, any thoughts? 👀

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x you #house of the dragon #writing #my writing

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 7 months ago

Note

would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3

ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k

cw suggestive content

“Is that okay?” he whispers.

You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy.

Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh.

He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt.

Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine.

He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head.

“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret.

“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs.

You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen.

You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands.

There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops.

“I really am sorry, Pete.”

His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.”

“What? What are you talking about? I started it.”

“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”

“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it.

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.”

“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.”

“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.”

“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.”

You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then.

“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.”

“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.”

“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh.

“From that statue on ESU?”

“What? How would I do that?”

“Get Spider-Man to help you.”

You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?”

“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.”

You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?”

Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.”

“I’ll try not to, Pete.”

2K notes · View notes

cruivanei · 23 days ago

Text

Ellis dreams of you (gone freaky) idk I'll think of a better title later. Not proofread just here for my pookie @starliights-shining. No particular established relationship beyond Ellis being smitten with you. Also, I admit freely I don't really know this character so if anything is glaringly wrong, feel free to tell me (I insist you do, in fact).

Ellis Twilight x AFAB reader

NSFW Below the cut ->

A warmth bubbled in Ellis’ chest. Somehow the gentle sensation was both light and suffocating as it perforated through his body and he recognized the feeling immediately – happiness. Alongside that glow was something heavier and hotter, something he did not need to ponder to feel deep in the bottom of his stomach and below where his belt typically rested.

And it was all because of you. Because of the way you threw your head back like it was too much to bother to keep it up when you could simply relish in the way he bucked up into your heat with a barely reined-in hunger. Your swollen lips wet with drool spewed his name in a near incoherent chant and Ellis thought he might do anything to keep you with him forever. He settled for tightening his grip on your waist, feeling a twisted swell of pride and desire as his fingertips made indents in your soft skin. Looking from where his body met yours to your face, Ellis thought you were unbelievably beautiful. It was a wonder Elbert had not tried to swoop in and steal you away. But he supposed this side of you was only for him, and selfishly he liked it that way.

“I love you, Ellis,” you said, your hands scrambling for purchase on his chest as you spasmed on his cock, riding out your climax so frantically he could not help the growing excitement in his loins. Your knees pressed into his hips as you peaked, and Ellis wondered if marriage would make you happy—he knew his own answer when you leaned over his face with gently closed eyes and one of your soft hands slid from his chest to cradle his face sweetly in preparation for an equally saccharine kiss.

“Ellis,” you said, in a voice clearer than your previous mumblings and with the conviction of someone utterly invested. His eyes fluttered shut in anticipation of that devotion manifest.

“Ellis,” you repeated, and he was awakened with a start.

You–clothed now–stood next to him in the library where he had fallen asleep waiting on Jude. Bent at the hip, you hovered over his face to press the back of your hand to his cheek with your fingertips just barely brushing against his dark curls. Your brows were furrowed, not completely unlike how they were when he was hitting it just right merely a few seconds prior in his filthy mind. He could not tell whether it was the familiarity and desire to have his hand on you or the defensive instinct instilled with necessity to be a part of Crown that made his hand shoot to your wrist, but you responded only with more concern as you tried to pull your hand from his with an agape mouth.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve been asleep for a while now,” you said, pretty eyes averted from where he held you.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered, unable and unwilling to stop the smile that curved his lips. “Will you join me?”

That caught your attention.

Your eyes swept over his lounging figure, strewn over the sofa in what was so much more uninhibited when he was looking at you with darkened purple eyes and when he had such an obvious… problem pressed against the confines of his pants.

He knew you had seen, how could he hide it from you when you were the cause? Firmly, he pulled you closer. “Please?” He asked, appeased already by your proximity. What was he even inviting you to do? He himself did not know. Whether you thought this was a propositioning or a darling attempt at siding himself up against you made no difference to Ellis. Closeness was closeness, so long as it was with you and he could not protest to either.

Your face flushed and you yanked your hand back with a blip of stuttered nonsense before taking a step back. He then understood how you had taken it.

“Sorry! I think I told Jude I’d help him with something!” You cried, turning tail and rushing out of the door just as the aforementioned Crown member was about to enter. Jude offered a displeased “hah?” and a raised brow but the only reply you offered for your blatant and disproven lie was a flash of hair disappearing around the corner.

#cruivanei writing #ellis twilight x reader #ellis x reader #ikevil x reader #ikemen villains x reader #ikemen villains #ellis twilight #ikemen ellis

25 notes · View notes

kidney9-9 · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 7 - Atsushi Nakajima

Welcome to day 7 of Kinktober! I hope you enjoy, please read the warnings!

Atsushi x Reader [Smut] Warnings: Smut, hand job, thigh riding Word Count: 1.4k

You pulled away from the make out session you were having with Atsushi. His lips were bright red and swollen and he was acting a bit strange throughout the night.

“Is something wrong, you seem nervous tonight?” You asked your boyfriend, who was sitting on the couch next to you.

He sighed, “I feel like I’m not being a good person to you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, confused at his words. Every day with him has been a blast, and you loved being around him. He was so sweet and loving. “What do you mean by that?” You asked, wanting to clarify.

“Like… sex. We haven’t done anything together.” He confessed, looking away from you in shame.

“I don’t know how to do anything.” He added on, blushing, and gazing away from you, feeling a bit ashamed. He had tried to get advice from Dazai and Kunikida, but they both ran away from him the moment he asked about sex.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, honey. Sex is a big step.” You responded, looking at him.

“But I want to do it, I really want to. Like right now.” He flushed, gazing back at you.

“That’s okay, I could teach you, if you’d like? Or I could,” You paused, narrowing your eyes as you thought about it. “Hm, we can do steps at a time. Foreplay? Like I could give you a blow job or a hand job if you’d like.”

He shook his head, “No, no, I want this to be for you. I mean, I don’t think I’d last if we actually had sex right now too. I heard some stories about being a virgin and lasting two seconds. And I know you’re more experienced than me, so I want to do something for you.”

You almost laughed at his description, but held quiet, “Mm, I don’t know. I can… hm, have you heard of thigh riding? I rub myself on your thigh basically, but I want to offer something for you too, honey.”

He lit up at that, “I’m good with you rubbing on my thigh.” He shook his head.

“Now, would you want me to help you in any way? Is there anything you’d be comfortable doing?” You really wanted to do something in return, but he shook his head.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.” He responded, and you shook your head.

“Oh, I don’t feel like that. I would like to touch you and I want you to be comfortable before we do anything.” You smiled at him.

“Really? It won’t bother you?” He seemed so surprised, “I mean… if you could give me a hand job, that would be good. I’m super sensitive, so I don’t think I’ll last very long.” He coughed and looked away, “Remember when I accidentally came when you sat on my lap the first time when we were kissing?”

You smiled fondly at him, “That’s okay, sweetie, some people are super sensitive, and some people are less sensitive.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, you wanna try now?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, causing him to laugh and relax. That was your goal, you didn’t want to stress him out. He was nervous.

“Mm, sure,” He nodded back, and you stood up and gestured to Atsushi to take his pants off. He dipped them down with his underwear. You almost gasped at the sight of his hardening cock. You hadn’t seen it before, and it was so pretty.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a pretty cock before, and you gazed back up at Atsushi, who was blushing heavily. “Does – does it look weird?” He mumbled to you. He saw your staring and thought it was bad. You quickly shook your head.

“No, it’s just super pretty.” You responded and he huffed out a nervous laugh.

“I thought you were going to say something else.” He said, and you shook your head, then sat down on his leg. One of your legs were on one side and the other on the other side. Your knee was barely brushing up against his balls, as his cock was starting to stand up against his stomach.

“Is this, okay?” You asked softly, seeing him gasp.

He nodded back to you, “Yeah, we can continue.” You smiled at him and leaned back to his lips. You kissed him slowly and gently, because you could tell he was still feeling a bit nervous. You wanted to help calm him down.

He melted into your lips, and you grinned slightly, before setting a finger on his tip. He gasped loudly and you took that chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. He moaned and quickly smoothed his tongue against yours.

He gripped your hip tightly and you pulled away for just a moment, “I’m going to rub against you now, if you want to stop just let me know.” You warned him, and he smiled back to you before leaning into your lips again to continue the kiss.

“Mm, so good.” He moaned out as you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You started to roll your hips back and forth, feeling the stimulation on your clit. You gasped as he rocked his leg up and pressed you down causing you to feel even more pressure on your clit.

The kiss was messy, and you both broke away to pant before kissing each other again as you started to pump him in your hand. You could feel him shiver underneath your touch and you grinned against his lips.

You smeared some of the pre cum that came from his tip, down and around the rest of his cock to get some lubrication. He let out so many pretty sounds as you did so, and continued as he slightly pulled away from your lips and focused on gripping your hips and helping you roll them so you could rub on his thigh.

You gasped as you felt the sensations hitting you, “Fuck, that’s good.” You moaned and he nodded back to you, a whimper coming out of his mouth as you flicked your thumb over his tip again.

You started to focus more on grinding against his thigh, and oh god, it felt incredible. It’s been a while since you felt something like this, and you were so happy that it was with Atsushi. He seemed to be having a great time as well, based on how his cheeks were flushed red and he was panting out words of admiration to you.

“Ah! “Oh, wow,” He let out, gripping your hips extra tight. You were pretty sure there would be bruises in the morning.

As you both continued your actions, you moved your hand down to your clit to get a little bit more attention because you could see that Atsushi was about to finish.

You circled your clit with your fingers before grinding against them hard, with the help of his thigh. You gasped loudly as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm. You felt almost weightless on top of his thigh, and you were glad he was holding onto you before if he weren’t then you were sure you would’ve fallen.

“I’m – oh, I’m about to come.” Atsushi cried out, his head laying on your shoulder, face twisted to your neck, and he panted hard breaths against your skin causing you to shudder.

You continued to jerk him off, making sure to massage up to his tip as well, “Go ahead, sweetie, I want you to come.” You whispered to him.

And just like that, he started coming hard. Spurts of his cum came out, flying on top of his torso and on yours as well. You smiled at the view, feeling as he withered in his spot, crying your name out over and over.

You soon pushed yourself to completion, and Atsushi didn’t forget to keep rolling your hips to help you. You groaned, feeling your orgasm take hold of you, and you fell down against Atsushi now. You felt limp in his hold as cum dripped down from your pussy onto his thigh and down to the floor.

“That was amazing, we should’ve done this way sooner!” Atsushi exclaimed as he pulled you close and laid back against the couch. You giggled back to him and snuggled closer, liking the way he wrapped his arm around you.

“We can do this, and we could do other things, just let me know about it and we can talk about it.” You mumbled to him, and he smiled brightly.

“Yeah! I mean, can we stay together here tomorrow instead of going to work?” Atsushi asked and you started to laugh.

“So, we could mess around?” You responded, laughing. He grinned cheekily at you.

“That and I just love spending time with you.”

#kinktober #atsushi x reader #bsd smut #bsd x reader #smut

128 notes · View notes

roetrolls · 9 months ago

Text

Simpler Times

“Orfuse!” His name, called as a greeting, is laced with just enough exasperation to alert the oracle of what he is about to hear next. “You forgot to lock the door again.”

“Hello to you too, grumpy-pants!” He chirps back, scribbling a note in his journal and listening for his moirail’s familiar, heavy footfall in the hall.

“What if someone wanted to kill you?”

“Well, I don’t think the door’s persuasive enough to help me there.”

“Orfuse.”

“I’m sorry!” he concedes. “I forgot.”

“How?”

The word comes out with such incredulity that it breaks in two, and Orfuse beams into his notebook. He can’t get enough of the adorable cracks that have begun to grace that ever-deepening voice, as embarrassing as his moirail seems to find them.

“Maybe my hands were full!”

“You’re a handful,” Harlan says fondly, finally coming to a halt in the living room’s entrance.

With a twinkling laugh, Orfuse lifts his head to greet him proper. At once, though, his mirth is stymied, replaced by a horrified gasp and his heart in his throat.

Harlan leans against the doorframe with his clothing wrinkled and his facepaint smudged to nothing, dried blood spattered across his skin. His lip is busted and his cheek is swollen, with a fresh bruise already blooming at his temple.

Orfuse nearly falls from his chair with how fast he leaps from it. “Harly!”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt!” He counters, taking his moirail by the arms and dragging him to sit on the couch for a better look at the damage. His fists seem to have had the worst of it, with knuckles split to bleeding and bruises on his fingers. “What happened?”

“There was a fight,” Harlan answers simply, sitting still and allowing Orfuse’s worried hands to comb through his hair in search of hidden wounds.

“I can see that,” he says, and it is his turn to be incredulous. Though he can’t seem to find any evidence of injury, there is certainly blood, dried into his tresses in such a way that it crunches between the oracle’s fingers. “Is this yours?”

“No.”

He draws back, relieved.

“But this is,” Harlan adds, raising one sharp, shiny tooth into view. Orfuse gapes, eyes widening into saucers, and the purpleblood grins wide enough for him to see the gap where his canine should have been.

Orfuse tries in vain to lift his jaw off the floor.

“It’ll grow back,” the young subjug shrugs, still flashing him that dimpled, toothless smile. “Faster if you kiss it, maybe?”

“Harly!” He admonishes through a bout of suppressed giggles, shoving at his face with a hand. “What is wrong with you!?”

Harlan guffaws, reaching up to pull the oracle’s arm away. His grip is weaker than Orfuse is used to, and the awkward way he holds the bronzeblood’s wrist to lay a kiss upon his palm belies just how much pain he’s really in.

Pity swells in the oracle’s chest, and he takes one of Harlan’s hands in his to assess the damage once more. He’s not so naive as to be unaware what an injury of this nature means. He has a feeling he doesn’t want to see the other guy.

“I’ll get you some bandages,” he says softly, stifling the instinct to give his palm a squeeze.

“Thank you.”

It doesn’t take him long to return with the first aid supplies, but a few minutes alone is all it takes for whatever adrenaline carried Harlan here to finish filtering out. By the time Orfuse settles back in to begin cleaning the wounds, his moirail looks exhausted.

“Does anything else hurt?”

Harlan exhales through his nose. “Apart from everything? No. Not from the fight.”

Orfuse flashes him a sympathetic look, pausing his medical ministrations to put a comforting hand on his knee. “Achey?”

“Sharp. The growing kind.” He sighs wearily, his eyelids heavy. “I’d like to be done with it already. I don’t need to get any bigger.”

A silence lingers between them for a moment. Orfuse hopes it’s the welcome sort.

“I’m going to use the alcohol now, alright? It might sting a little.”

Harlan nods in acknowledgement, then looks away, likely hoping to hide whatever reaction he may have when the liquid meets his cuts.

“What was the fight about?”

“You.” His shoulders relax as Orfuse begins wrapping his knuckles, the worst of the process finished. “Krivek wanted to run his mouth again. He called you a leech. Said you made me weak.”

“Harly…” Orfuse frowns. “You can’t go picking fights every time someone says a bad word about me. I don’t want that.”

“You don’t understand the church, Orfuse. There’s no place for weakness in that world. I needed to prove him wrong, for both our sakes.”

“What did you even prove?”

“That you make me strong.”

#hey guys young harfuse drabble get it while it's hot #harlan mahkir #writing #guest star!#orfuse #tongues and teeth #harfuse #the fact that i can go write a drabble from the pov of chase's guy #and not send it to chase till im done #we truly do share custody #harlan writing

34 notes · View notes

owl-of-fandom · 2 years ago

Text

different from you

written for @drarrymicrofic‘s 17th january prompt: different

this includes: trans!draco (trans man draco) and him coming out to harry also: mentions of top surgery scars

rating: teen

wc:1089 | read below or on ao3

“Harry, I need to tell you something!”

“What? Now?” Harry asks incredulous. His hair is adorably messy, messier than usual, from Draco’s fingers carding through the locks. His cheeks are flushed, lips red and a little swollen. And his eyes shine with happiness. They are so very green without his glasses.

Draco takes a deep breath and nods. He gently extricates himself from Harry’s arms and gives up his spot in his lap to sit beside him on the couch.

“Oh, this is serious, then,” Harry murmurs as he puts his glasses back on. He watches Draco’s hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt, which has already been tucked free from his trousers, concern plain on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Harry prompts gently.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Draco snaps and flinches at the harsh tone. He gentles his voice. “I just have to …”

“Tell me something,” Harry finishes.

Draco swallows. Again he nods.

He looks at Harry, his open and honest expression. Everything about him is patient and just so gentle as he waits for Draco to continue.

Draco doesn’t know how his own face looks like. He hopes the panic, he’s feeling, doesn’t show too plainly.

He has been going out with Harry for only a few weeks after years of traipsing around each other. And it’s going really well. They decided to take it slow, but the few times they have kissed now, have been glorious. Harry is perfectly attentive and gentle and always makes sure Draco is comfortable and Draco might be a little in love with him. Okay, he’s heads over heels gone for the man, if he’s being honest.

Now, though, he’s afraid, that the next thing he says, might ruin everything. This might very well be the little thing, that’s finally too much. The little thing, that breaks Harry’s patience and gentleness. The little thing, that’s not so little really, that could drive Harry away. The little fact, that he’s a trans man.

Draco shifts to sit on his knees, sideways on the couch, so that he faces Harry properly.

“Draco? It’s okay. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is.” Harry turns as well, pulling a leg under himself.

“If we’re going too fast, if you want to slow down, that’s fine. Or if you changed your mind. It’s okay. If – if you don’t want to be with me-“

“NO!” Draco yells. Harry flinches.

“Too loud, sorry.” Draco takes Harry’s hand. He gently rubs circles on his palm, knowing it will calm them both. “But, no, that’s not what it is. I didn’t change my mind about this. About you. I … I want you.” Draco feels himself blush scarlet, the blood hot in his cheeks and down his neck.

“Good,” Harry almost purrs with that crooked smile, that has the power to make Draco swoon. He squeezes Harry’s hand and feels a wave of reassurance wash over himself as Harry squeezes back.

“It’s just that,” Draco takes a deep breath, then the rest of the words come rushing out of his mouth, “before we go any further, before anything more happens between us, I need to tell you that I’m different.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. His eyes flit over his face, searching. He doesn’t understand.

Slowly Draco extricates his hand from Harry’s.

“Let me show you,” he barely whispers. Draco starts unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. Harry watches on patiently.

“I’m different,” he repeats, letting his shirt fall open over his bare chest and exposing the crescent scars there. “I’m trans. I’m a trans man.”

Harry’s eyes turn impossibly wide behind his glasses. He’s transfixed on Draco’s top surgery scars. His gaze is intense, but his expression is unreadable.

Draco has no idea what’s going on in the head of this beautiful, perfect man, sitting across from him. So he does the only thing he can think of. He rambles.

“I can see how this changes everything.” He swallows hard. “It’s okay, obviously, when you’re not attracted to me anymore. It’s my fault really. I should have told you earlier, I assume. To clear the air. Make sure we’re on the same page. Alas, I’ll be going, then.” The words tumble out of Draco’s mouth uncontrolled.

He can’t look at Harry anymore, afraid of what he might see there now. Instead he watches his own quivering hands, as he begins to rebutton his shirt.

Suddenly Harry’s hands are encircling his wrists, holding them gently, but determinedly away from the buttons.

“Don’t,” Harry says softly. “Don’t leave.”

Draco looks up to find green eyes incredibly gentle. But there’s also a heat there, hidden in the depth, that reminds Draco of earlier kissing sessions. The desire is instantly so clear, it makes Draco’s heart flutter in a new burst of hope.

“No?” he asks quietly.

“No. Draco you’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful. I want to … Can I kiss you again?”

Dumbstruck Draco leans forward. Only when he feels Harry’s lips stretch into a big grin, does he register what’s happening. Harry’s kissing him. He knows and he still wants to kiss him.

“So,” he pulls away a little, resting his forehead against Harry’s and just barely managing not to poke himself with Harry’s glasses. “You’re okay with this? With me being trans?”

“What? Yes, of course!” Harry lets go of his wrists to gently place his palms on either side of his face instead.

“You’re brilliant! You’re so beautiful.” A soft kiss emphasises his words.

“Are you sure? Even now that you know my body is … not like yours?” Harry makes a little outraged sound in the back of his throat.

“Draco. Your body is perfect because it is yours. I meant it, when I said you’re beautiful. You are. Darling, you’re perfect. And I think, I’m falling a little in love with you.”

At that, Draco sits back on his heels. He searches Harry’s face, and finds nothing but genuine honesty and a slight vulnerability.

“Harry,” he breathes, and they’re kissing again. Soft, tender press of lips turn to hot, open-mouthed kisses, hungry and demanding.

“I think,” Draco says between kisses, “I might be falling for you, too.”

Harry chuckles, then sucks at the skin right under Draco’s ear, making him gasp. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

“Now,” Draco pants, “take me to bed?”

Harry stands, taking Draco, who somehow found his way back into his lap, with him. He carries him, as if he weighs nothing, and without breaking the kiss, out of the room.

“As you wish, Darling.” Draco swoons.

#owlish writing #drarry #drarrymicrofic #trans!draco #coming out #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry x draco

86 notes · View notes

pengychan · 1 year ago

Text

[Our Flag Means Death] The Lost Unicorn, Pt. 2

Title: The Lost Unicorn Summary: Weakened by the gunshot wound, Izzy falls behind during the escape and is captured. The good news is that the navy surgeon can keep him alive. The bad one is that he's now live bait for the crew of the Revenge. Characters: Izzy Hands, Ed Teach, Stede Bonnet, Crew of the Revenge, Ricky Barnes Rating: T All chapters are tagged as 'lost unicorn' on my blog. [Back to Part 1]

Unsurprisingly no one is having a good time, but at least they now have extra brain cells on board to think of a decent plan. Also, flashbacks. ***

“Good Lord, Israel, I truly hope that was one of your baby teeth.”

Israel tries to reply, but there is blood bubbling in his mouth and something hard on his tongue. He turns and spits out another tooth. “Think so,” he says, as well as one can manage to enunciate with both front teeth gone. So, not very well.

The innkeeper rubs his face before giving a quick glance towards the kitchen where Israel’s mother is busy cooking dinner, unaware of the trouble her son got into yet again. He can faintly hear her singing. “You’re going to give poor Edith a heart attack one of these days, you truly are.”

“So don’t tell her.”

“I think she’s going to notice either way, boy. Who was it this time? The cobbler’s kid again?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

Callused fingers grab his chin, forcing his face up. Israel scowls before the old man even starts his lecture. Or tries to, because one eye is swollen shut and it makes scowling difficult. “You can’t keep picking fights with everybody.”

“He insulted me,” Israel replies, and it is a lie. But he’ll die before he lets a word of what really happened - he insulted her - past his lips, so he’ll settle for lying. Mr. Doherty probably already worked out that his mother’s ring is all for show and that she’s not a widow nor was ever married in the first place, but it’s one of those things that are best left unsaid.

His mother made sure he understood that very well: a problem that goes unspoken is a less of a problem.

“You should learn to let an insult or two slide, before you lose something more than a couple of teeth.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“You’re the size and weight of a wet rat. You really do not.”

“You should see the other guy,” Israel replies, even though the other guy barely got a nosebleed out of their fight, and steps past to head upstairs, to the room he shares with his mother, to wash some blood off. Or at least he tries to. He never manages to put one foot down on the steps before Mr. Doherty grapes his wrist, tight.

It’s wrong. Israel can tell right away that it’s wrong, because Mr. Doherty never grabs anyone like this unless it’s a drunk patron that needs to be thrown out of the inn.

And no one alive should ever have hands this cold.

“You’re going to die alone. You know that, don’t you, Izzy?”

Israel looks up, alarmed and more than a little confused, because no one has ever called him anything other than his full name before. Mr. Doherty is looking the other way, even as the grip tightens, colder and colder.

… Or maybe it isn’t that cold. Maybe it’s him who is warm, too warm, feverish. Israel swallows, and now even the blood in his mouth feels boiling hot. “Let me--”

“You’re difficult, you know? You make it so goddamn difficult for anyone to like you. Got it into your head no one could and now here you are, making damn sure no one does.”

The man turns his head now and it’s not Mr. Doherty anymore. Israel Hands is still some fifteen years away from meeting Benjamin Hornigold for the first time, but those eyes still go through him like a knife, make him still and stop struggling to break free from his grip.

A smile, wide, all teeth. “They’re not coming back for you, Izzy. None of them. Why would they?”

Israel’s vision is swimming, and it feels like he’s burning. The grip on his wrist stays, ice cold, while his left knee folds and he falls. The man who’s not Mr. Doherty pulls him up by the wrist, dangles him like a dead rat caught in a trap. Something in his gut hurts, more throbbing heat.

“Because you got dolled up, put on perfume, and sang a little song? That’s it? You think that would make anyone want to risk their lives for a miserable bastard? They wanted to have a laugh at you, that's all.”

A shake, the heat in his gut blooms into pain, and Israel screams.

“Ma--” he tries to call out, but another cold hand grabs his neck, squeezes, and the scream dies in his throat.

“They won’t come, none of them, least of all Ed. They thought they got live bait, and all they have in their hands is dead meat. It’s for the best, you know. If they do, they die. And the last person who was ever willing to give her life for you died shitting her bed while you were fucking around as a powder monkey for the Royal Navy.”

Israel tries to grasp the man’s wrist, to pry those icy fingers from his throat, but his hand is so weak and he feels so heavy. His vision darkens, and the arm falls back by his side.

“Do you want them to come for you? Do you want them to die for you? You selfish little twat.”

None of his words make sense to Israel, but he’s no longer listening. All he knows is that he’s burning, and his side hurts, and he can’t see anything anymore. In the dark he hears voices, faint and far away-- … high fever……bring it down…… doing my best…… keep him alive…-- but when he tries to scream, the grip on his throat makes it impossible. That’s when he knows that he’s going to die, and no one is coming.

A chasm opens beneath him, and Israel falls.

***

“All right. So. The plan. We need to be clever about this.”

“We’re never very clever about anything.”

“Yeah, whose idea was it to send the guy with the obvious wooden leg forth with the hostage?”

“I mean, Prince Whatshisname would have fucked it all up either way, I guess.”

“Still, proves my point. We’re never very clever about anything.”

“And it got one of us captured. So we have to be this time. Like with… remember the lighthouse trick?”

“Oh yeah, that was good.”

“Real good.”

“How’s playing lighthouse going to help with this?”

“It’s not, but what I mean is that it shows we can be clever, and that’s the kind of attitude we need to have again.”

“Oh! If we do the lighthouse thing anyway, can I do the foghorn?”

“Yes, Roach.”

“I say we go and burn the place down until they give Izzy back.”

“No, Wee John.”

“There were the towels, too.”

“Yeah, the drugged towels, when we got away from the Red Flag!”

“That was clever. Wasn’t it, Zheng?”

“... I’ll concede it was. Begrudgingly. But it won’t help us now, since none of those men will let us close enough to smell our towels.”

“I don’t need to get close.”

Jim’s voice was cold, and it caused everyone on deck to turn to them. They were sitting apart from everyone else, sharpening their throwing knives, jaw set and mouth a thin line. There was no doubt that they were already thinking of the moment each of those very, very sharp knives would sink in some pale English throat.

“Probably not what I’m supposed to say,” Archie muttered. “But you look really hot right now.”

“Appreciated,” Jim replied with the smallest twitch of their lips, but didn't stop sharpening the knives for a moment. Stede cleared his throat.

“Very well. So, um. Going back to our clever plan--”

“We split up.”

Ed had been silent almost from the moment they managed to lose the Navy ship at their heels - so silent, in fact, that Stede was starting to worry a little - but now he spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him.

“... Split up?” Pete repeated, and Lucius made a face.

“That sounds like a terrible idea. You know, in horror books someone always dies when the characters split up,” he muttered, gaining himself a look from Jackie.

“What kinda books do you read?” she asked, but never got an answer. Ed walked up to the improvised table they were all huddled around, and tapped his finger on New Providence.

“They gave up the chase now because we had a head start and sailed faster, but I’ll bet they’re not going to just dock again. They’ll be on high alert for any attack after we took down so many of theirs. I’ll bet Frenchie’s right arm their man-of-war will keep patrolling around the island, looking out for any ships.”

“Why does it have to be my arm?” Frenchie groaned, but got no reaction other than a sympathetic pat from Fang.

Stede frowned down at the map. “It makes sense, but how does splitting up--”

“Some of us stay on the ship, the others are dropped on New Providence,” Auntie spoke up, nodding. “Yes, I see. We lead their ship on a wild duck chase--”

“I think you mean--” Olu started, but a glare was enough to make him shut his mouth.

“I know what I meant to mean. Some of us keep their ship’s attention on the Revenge, while the rest get on the ground and scout things out from there.” A pause, and she looked around. “A small group would be best.”

Ed scoffed a little. “A big group kills more English.”

“Yes. But a big group also gets discovered quickly. If your friend is alive, the last thing you want is charging in like a bull without knowing what you’re getting into. For all we know, the noseless rat has him at gunpoint. ” Auntie crossed her arms, and looked Ed in the eye. “You want him back alive, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“And come back alive yourself?”

It was a more charged question than she realized, Stede knew, and he found himself holding his breath for Ed’s reply. “Yeah,” Ed said, like a man who hadn’t purposefully steer the ship into a storm to go down with it only weeks earlier, and Stede breathed again. “Would be nice.”

“Then you take a small group for reconnaissance. Figure out what’s going on in Nassau, if he’s even alive, and where they’re keeping him. Then get picked up by the ship again, and we reconvene. Makes sense, no?” She turned to Stede. “What does the captain think?” she asked, her tone making it clear she was no huge fan of the fact he, out of all the people on board, was the captain.

Oh dear, now it fell on him to decide, of course. Stede opened his mouth, but Ed spoke up before he could utter a single word.

“... It makes sense. I’m going. Jim?”

A flick of their wrist, and the knife Jim had been sharpening whistled through the air, hitting the mast only a few inches left of Ed’s temple. He didn’t even flinch, and just looked on as Jim nodded. “Of course I’m in.”

“Me too, then,” Archie muttered, and Ed nodded.

“Sounds good. The three of us,” he agreed, and looked back at the others. “We’ll signal you when we’re ready to--”

“What-- no, wait a moment!” Stede protested. “I’m coming, too!”

A scoff. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

“Are not.”

A bit too outraged to even notice the way several crew members were rolling their eyes, Stede crossed his arms. “Am too!”

“I’m not risking you falling into their hands too. You’re the captain, so you stay on the ship--”

“Well, I am your captain, Edward Teach!” Stede snapped, slamming both hands on the table and causing Ed to recoil, several crew members to flinch, and Lucius’ eyebrows to shoot all the way up to his hairline. “I call the shots here, I am going nowhere without you!”

It was a pretty good outburst, if Stede said so himself. Almost up there with ‘do not try this captain again’, and he liked to think Izzy would be just as impressed. Ed sure seemed to be, because he opened his mouth, stared a moment, and then closed it before licking his lips and clearing his throat.

(Later, after leaving them on the coast some way north of Nassau, Lucius would ask aloud if he was the only one who’d gotten the distinct feeling that Ed had been very close to rawing Stede on the deck right there and then. He was not.)

“... Right. Yeah. So, the four of us,” Ed finally said, and turned to the pile of uniforms they’d thrown on the deck after getting away from the English warship. “Guess we should put them on again.”

Archie tilted her head. “You think that fuckery is going to work twice? Barely worked the first time. It was a bit of a shit plan. No offense, captain.”

“None taken. But to be fair, I didn’t have much time to come up with anything better and I didn’t hear any of you--”

“Shit plan or not, Ed is right,” Jim cut him off, crossing the deck to retrieve their knife from the mast. “Seeing their uniform may at least make someone hesitate a moment before shooting. And a moment is all I’d need to kill them.”

Stede nodded. “Oh! Yes, of course! We only need a moment to strike first, if it comes to it.”

“Not you,” Auntie said. “You need more moments.”

“Maybe two moments, babe,” Ed said quickly.

“More like twenty,” Zheng commented, and Ed crossed his arms.

“That’s not very constructive.”

“No, no, she’s not wrong,” Stede conceded. “I may not be the best swordsman. Or marksman. Or… well… I will be mostly there for, uh. Strategic thinking.”

“Then we’re fucked,” Jim remarked, but turned back towards New Providence, by now only a small dot in the distance. “So, what are we waiting for?”

“Nightfall?” Olu suggested, a bit hesitant, and Zheng nodded with a smile.

“Yes. Nightfall,” she said. A pause, and she turned to Jim and Archie. She pulled something from her sleeve, and held it out to them. A vial, with something viscous in it, like oil. “Take this. It’s a poison. Not of much use if someone drinks it, but if you coat your blades with it, the smallest cut is deadly.”

“Oooh, this is awesome!” Archie grinned, taking the vial. “Can’t wait to try this out.”

“Leave some for me,” Jim muttered, elbowing her side, and turned back to Zheng. “Thank you. We’ll put it to good use.”

“You’d better, because it’s more expensive than this ship.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, man. I’ll get performance anxiety now.”

Archie’s comment made both Jim and Zheng chuckle. It was Zheng to speak again first. “And come back in one piece, both of you. Oluwande would appreciate that, and-- I would, too.”

“We’ll do our best,” Archie exclaimed, all brightness, putting an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “But failing that, do you have any preference on what pieces we do bring back?”

Stede was honestly a little curious to hear the answer, but he noticed Ed walking off below deck and that immediately shifted on top of his priorities. He followed, a little sheepish.

“Um, Ed? I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

It caused Ed to pause, halfway down the steps to retrieve more guns, most likely. He turned just a little, enough for Stede to see his profile. “... It’s all right. You’re the captain.”

“Well, it’s no excuse to yell--”

“The captain gets to yell.”

“That’s not really the kind of captain I wanted to be,” Stede muttered, more than a little bashful, and Ed fully turned to look at him.

“I mean-- I don’t mind.”

“But it’s ru--”

“Kinda hot really.”

“... Oh?”

“Well, maybe-- you know, in other circumstances. In a private setting. Not on the deck.”

Stede’s mind immediately attempted to supply various circumstances where that new bit of information could be used in a private setting, and it took him some effort to chase that thought away. Later, he decided. Once their mission was complete.

“Ah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Well-- duly noted. But, uh… I think I really should come with you, that’s why I insisted. I’m worried about Izzy, too, and I don’t think I can just sit around while sending you to do this really dangerous thing alone. I mean, I’m the captain. Makes me responsible for all the crew. You know?”

Ed stared a moment, then nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I-- I get that. Just don’t wanna see you in danger if I can help it.”

“Well, that just means you’ll need to be my knight in shining armor if it comes to it,” Stede quipped, and was very relieved to see Ed’s lips quirk in a smile.

“I can do that. Killing is a hell of a lot easier when it’s to protect someone.”

“There, problem solved. But I’ll do my best not to get in the line of fire in the first place.” He stepped closer, and leaned in for a quick kiss that Ed reciprocated right away. “No one’s getting hurt. I mean, no one but the English.”

“... What if he’s already dead?”

“No, hey.” He pressed two fingers on Ed’s lips, looking at him in the eye. “Don’t think like that. Captain’s orders.”

Ed didn’t reply, but he did lean into the touch and kisses his fingertips, and Stede figured he could take it as an ‘aye’.

***

After letting his father’s body drop on the ground, Edward turns around and runs.

He has to run. He can’t go back. His mother will look at his face and see what he did, what he is, and he can’t bear the thought. Rain keeps falling, there’s thunder and he keeps slipping on cobblestones, hearing nothing but his own panting breath, blood rushing in his ears.

He can hardly think but there is one thing he knows, one thing only that keeps him running towards the docks. Father is gone, she is safe, and she doesn’t need another monster to replace him.

So he has to go.

Later, he won’t remember exactly what happened. He will only know that by the time he gets to the docks his eyes are full of-- rain it’s just rain--rainwater and he can’t see the man standing in front of him until he slams against his side and falls back on the ground with a grunt.

“And who the fuck are you?”

The man is towering over him, like his father did earlier that night before-- he --the Kraken got him. He’s pulling back his lips in a grimace, hair sticking to his forehead. There is a boy too, he’s got some kid by the throat and is holding him high up enough his feet don’t touch the ground.

“Well? I’m talking to you!” The man steps forward, and his boot is up to come down on him before Edward can even think of scooting back, but it never comes down. Not on him, at least.

“Eat shit!” the boy in his grasp yells, and his foot kicks out, hitting the man right in the groin.

The high-pitched scream would be funny, if Edward remembered how to laugh. For now he only stares, wide-eyed, as the man drops the boy and falls on his knees, holding onto his groin with a whine. “You little bastard-- you’re fucking dead meat when I--”

He never gets to say another word, because the kid he’s been holding by the neck picks something up from the ground and screams. He swings that something in an arc through the air, heavy and made of metal. It meets the man’s bald head with a sickening crunch, the skull caves in, and he falls back without another sound.

“WHO’S DEAD MEAT NOW, FUCKER!”

Another hit, another, and another. Edward doesn't remember standing, but he must have. Suddenly he’s up and grabbing the boy’s arm, stopping him from swinging the metal pipe again. “Stop it. Stop! He’s dead!”

He’s dead, dead, dead, I did it and I can never go back.

He expects a struggle, but there is none. The boy drops the pipe and turns to look at him, blue eyes wide under a mop of wet brown hair. Only later, when the sun dries them both, Edward will see it’s sandy blond.

“Ah, shit,” he says, and for just a moment his voice shakes. “I killed him, didn’t I?”

Tell them it was the Kraken, Edward thinks, and for a horrible moment he almost laughs.

“We’ve got to get away from here,” he says instead. “Come this way, we can--”

“Well well. That looks an awful lot like what my ship cook would look like after going through a meat grinder.”

Edward stills, and so does the boy. They turn, slowly, to see a man standing over the corpse - and over them. A boot kicks the dead man’s side. “Must have been shitfaced drunk for two runts like you to take him down. How do you plan to pay me back for this loss, precisely?”

Edward says nothing, mouth dry, still holding onto the boy’s arm and looks up. He cannot make out the man’s face.

The first time he sees him, Benjamin Hornigold is nothing but a dark shadow in silver rain.

“I should shoot you both,” the shadow is saying. “But he was an asshole, and I could use another couple of cabin boys who can take down a man if needed.” A sharp tilt of his head. “You, what’s your name?”

“John Rackham,” Edward hears the boy say, and the shadow scoffs.

“Well, I already have a John on board. So you’ll be Jack from now on. Objections?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Do you have a family to say goodbye to, Jack?”

“... No,” he says. It sounds like a lie even to Edward’s ears, but the shadow doesn’t insist.

Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have let him say goodbye either way. He just smiles, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Just how I like my men,” he mutters, and turns to Edward. “And you, what’s your name?”

Edward licks his lip, mouth dry. He has seen ships come and go his entire life, merchant ships as well as the occasional pirate ship port authorities turn a blind eye on for a bribe, but he’s never been on one. Still… he has no choice now, does he? This is why he was running to the docks in the first place. He has to leave, and the only way is by sea. By ship. This is his chance to disappear.

And it only cost another man’s life.

Laughter almost bubbles up his chest and throat, but Edward holds it down because he knows that if he laughs now, before this man, he’s as good as dead. So he looks up, face wet with rain, and speaks.

“Edward.”

“Edward what?”

“... Just Edward. I don’t have a family,” he adds. Somewhere out there is a woman nursing a bruised face, wondering when her beast of a husband and her son are coming home, but now they’re both gone - the Kraken got them - and there’s just him left, and he can never go back.

She’s better off without.

As with Jack, the shadow doesn’t question him. “Hm. Well, damn common names you’ve got. I’ve got another Edward too, and it seems much too long for a shrimp like you. So Ed it is.” A wave of his hand, beckoning them to follow, and they obey. They will keep obeying for a long time. What choice do they have?

Benjamin Hornigold walks to the docks in pouring rain, and Ed follows.

***

When Izzy woke up, he was still feverish and he could hear rain.

There was no window in the room he’d been put in, but rain was drumming loud above him, so he could only guess he was put into one of the rooms in the attic. Not a stupid decision: the only way in there would be up the stairs, and a few men with rifles could easily fend off an attack from the vantage point.

And he was sure Pinocchio had placed plenty of men on each floor, weapons at the ready. They’d taken down plenty, but the bastard had brought in half a fucking army. If the crew tried to storm in, they’d be utterly fucked.

They won’t. They’re not so stupid, he thought, but even as the thought crossed his mind he knew there had to be a limit to willful delusion. They’re probably not so stupid. But they won’t come. They must think I’m dead. Someone must have seen me get shot.

It was what he wanted to believe, sure enough. The best possible scenario: not one member of the crew would die for his sake, not because they didn’t care but because they didn’t know he was alive. He could go with that, hold onto that thought until the trapdoor opened beneath him and he hung by the neck for a crowd of cunts in Kingston.

Or maybe they know, and still won’t come.

Enough. Don’t go there.

Izzy shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, and tried to shift on the bed. He was still sluggish, much too warm, and whatever the ship surgeon gave him must have worn off, because his bandaged wound was hurting like a bitch. But he was alive, mind passably clear, so it looked like the fever was not going to do him in after all.

Bit of a pity, that. He’d have loved to stop being a chess piece in Prince Cunty’s hands.

Izzy groaned and let his head drop back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. What time was it? What day was it, how long had he been out? He had absolutely no idea. He could tell he was still really fucking thirsty and now also really fucking hungry, but he had probably pissed Noseless off enough he’d leave him to--

“What are you doing here?”

A voice on the other side of the door, barely muffled. Izzy craned his neck to look at it, not too surprised to find there were officers standing outside it, too. There was another voice, lower, more mumbled.

“Ugh, so we’re feeding him now?”

“Guess little Prince Ricky doesn’t want to hang a corpse in Kingston. Let him through.”

The door opened, and some kid walked in, closing the door behind him. Well, not quite a kid, but not a man either. The uniform didn’t quite fit him right, he had pimples across both cheeks, and was avoiding his gaze. He was carrying a tray with a glass of water and some bread. Izzy sneered.

“Do I get my own maid now?” he muttered, and the boy looked up.

“I’m no maid,” he protested, with a thick yet annoyingly familiar accent Izzy could place in three seconds flat. Look at that, all this way from London - another dweller of the city’s shit pits beyond the Tower. “I’m--”

“A powder monkey,” Izzy cut him off, and the boy flushed red.

“I’m learning to be a seaman--”

“And until you do, you’re the monkey fetching gunpowder on the ship. Now give me the tray or fuck off.”

A sharp intake of breath, and for a second the brat looked like he could cry, but in the end he placed the tray on the bed, where Izzy could reach with his free hand, and quickly stepped back. They had told him he was dangerous, more likely than not, but even if he’d been in any condition to harm him, Izzy couldn’t be bothered.

All he could do now was make an effort to sit up as much as the manacle and his wound allowed, grab the glass of water, and drink. His parched throat almost spasmed, but he forced himself to swallow and then drank more, to the last drop. Maybe seeing him drinking so desperately made him look less dangerous, after all, because the monkey gathered the courage to speak out, standing to his full height.

It was not a lot, but it wasn’t like Izzy was the one to speak there.

“I’ll have you know,” he declared, trying and failing to imitate the way of speaking of much higher class officers, “that my duties on the ship take skill.”

“No, they don’t,” Izzy replied, grabbing the piece of bread and biting into it. It was stale and rubbery, but he’d take it. He heard the monkey’s protests over his own chewing.

“What would you know!”

“That’s how I started out,” he replied through his mouthful, and swallowed. “A powder monkey on the HMS Riptide.”

“Ah.” A pause, a little uncertain. Izzy had time enough to chew and swallow another couple of bites before he spoke again. “I heard some men say you used to be in the Navy.”

“... It was a long time ago.”

“Then what happened?”

Izzy didn’t reply right away. Another bite, and the bread was gone. Hunger was somewhat quelled, but the thirst sure as hell was not. “If you want the tale, get me more water,” he said. “Or you can fuck off.”

A scowl, and the monkey want to take the tray, once again stupidly skittish for someone dealing with a bed-bound man who’d been deliriously feverish until that morning, with a hole in his gut, missing a leg, and with a wrist manacled to the bed frame. He hesitated a moment, glancing at the pitcher on a table at the far side of the room… then set his jaw and marched to the door, not sparing him a second look.

How easily offended, kids those days.

Izzy leaned back with a groan, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Listening to the rain helped, to some degree; it kept his mind from wandering to the crew, what they may be doing, whether they may be foolish enough to return and fall right into a trap.

And it kept it from memories of a very long time ago, when he’d looked up at Captain Benjamin Hornigold and - still tied to the mast, back a bloody mess from the interrupted flogging, the corpses of his comrades littering the deck - he’d asked if he happened to be hiring.

***

[Back to Part 1]

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #lost unicorn

15 notes · View notes

cowboyemeritus · 2 years ago

Text

The Good Lord Would Want It That Way (Mary Goore/Reader)

You want to give yourself to Mary, but you know it's wrong. He comes up with a clever solution to your predicament. (18+)

Read on AO3

Just a note: this is going to look a little icky at first but I PROMISE it's entirely consensual. Obviously I don't want to spoil anything, but I figured I ought to be somewhat transparent about it.

You cross your legs shyly and try to avoid making eye contact with Mary at all costs. He’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, running his hand up and down your thigh absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong, babycakes?” They ask through kiss-swollen lips. Despite the obvious tent in his jeans, there is genuine concern in his voice. The hand stops moving, coming to rest dangerously close to the apex of your legs. Their touch makes you shudder.

“It’s just…” You sigh, making a desperate attempt to gather your thoughts. “I like you a lot, Mare. You make me really happy, and I want you to be happy, too. I want to… do things with you, but…” You nervously fiddle with the small silver cross hanging from your neck. “But it’s wrong to want that. My faith is very important to me and I made a promise to not… you know, until I get married.” Mentally, you’re bracing yourself for their response. What sort of insults will Mary hurl at you? Will he call you a prude? A Bible-thumper? A stuck-up bitch? The possibilities are endless, really.

To your surprise, Mary takes your hand in theirs. His long fingers, molded by years of guitar playing, are cold against your skin. And yet the gesture is warm, so full of tenderness that it makes you want to cry.

“I’m not gonna pretend like I actually get this whole virginity thing,” they start, “but it wouldn’t be cool if I pressured you. That’d be pretty fucked up.” You lean into him, resting your head on his bony shoulder. The two of you sit there in silence for what feels like millennia. This is end of your relationship, it has to be. There’s no way Mary would tie himself to you just to get laid. You could never ask that of him, anyway. They have such a prickly exterior but deep down you know they’re really sweet and you don’t want to have to say goodbye so soon-

“You know, there is one thing we could try.”

You flush instantly. There’s no way. He couldn’t possibly… That’s only something that’s whispered about at youth groups and bible camps. It’s just a myth; at least, that’s what your youth pastor always told you. You swallow hard, turning to see if Mary is kidding or not. Even without the face-paint and fake blood they look dead serious.

“Oh… Uh, I don’t know, Mary. I’ve never-“

“Forget it,” they say, immediately scooting away from you. “I shouldn’t push.” The earth has opened up between the two of you, the chasm swallowing you whole when Mary eventually gets up from the bed to go check the time on his phone. “It’s getting kinda late, babe. Want me to walk you home soon?” Suddenly, you’ll do anything if they let you stay.

“Wait,” you blurt out before you can think better of it. “I- I want to try it. I want to do it with you.” Mary gives you a look.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” He makes to leave the room and you shoot up, grabbing his wrist.

“I’m sure! Really. I want to. Please, can we?” You’ll get down on your knees if you have to. Anything to make him happy. They give you a once over and smile, although you can’t help the cold snap that runs down your spine at the sight. For a second, there is something smug, malicious even, in the way Mary regards you.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Before you can react, he’s pulling you in and kissing you hungrily. His tongue prods forcefully at your lips, demanding access. You gasp when Mary roughly grabs your ass, using the opportunity to fully claim your mouth. The sensation of their tongue in your throat is uncomfortable at first, but eventually, you relax into the embrace. Reflexively, you wrap your arms around Mary as you two shuffle back to the bed. He gives you a playful little push and you flop clumsily onto the mattress, worrying your lip between your teeth while he liberates himself from the confines of his jacket and t-shirt. Seeing you laying there like a dead fish, they quirk their head.

“Wanna let me see you?” You can’t meet their eyes and fidget with the hem of your sweater nervously.

“I… I think I’d be more comfortable if I kept this on? I don’t know why, I just…” Mary chuckles, and though it’s full of pity, it sounds genuine.

“That’s a-okay, babe. We can do this however you like. This is about you, not me.” You have to bite back a laugh at that, hiding your face in your hands so he can’t see your struggle. Yeah right, Goore.

You lean back onto the bed as Mary drapes himself over you. One of their hands comes up to pin your wrists above your head while the other rests on your hip. He kisses you once, twice, before his fingers are hooking under the waistband of both your skirt and underwear. You shiver and instinctively try to flee from their cold touch.

“At least me take these off,” he purrs, warm breath tickling your neck. Once you nod in assent they make quick work of sliding the garments down your legs, flinging them unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor. The rush of cool air on your sex makes you whine and press your thighs together, but it’s not long before Mary is wrenching them apart again. He lays a kiss to your neck, just slightly nipping at the skin, then starts to move down your body. You gasp, utterly scandalized, when they give your breasts a squeeze through the wool of your sweater.

“Mare!”

“What?” He huffs. “Bible doesn’t say anything about that. At least I don’t think.” They continue downward until they’re face to face with your core. “I do remember something about worshipping false idols, though. But unlike you, I have no problem with blasphemy.” For emphasis, Mary’s tongue descends on your clit. You’d roll your eyes if they weren’t already at the back of your head. At least they know how to put that filthy mouth to good use. He keeps licking and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, snickering as you desperately try to stifle your moans. Eventually, you feel fingers at your entrance, gathering up your slick. You’re about to protest when, instead of sliding into your pussy, Mary’s fingers move further down.

You tense when you feel the caress of skin against the tight ring of muscle. Mary doesn’t breach your opening just yet, opting to draw one of his fingers in slow circles around it with varying degrees of pressure. They suddenly press against your hole and you flinch. Laughing, he detaches from your clit and flashes a cocky smile.

“Just kidding,” he teases, withdrawing completely and ushering you to lay at the head of the bed. Mary rummages through his nightstand for a moment and finally, to your relief, produces a thing of lube. You look away shyly as they uncap the bottle and coat their fingers with what you hope is a generous amount. Setting it back down, he climbs on top of you once again and kisses you with a surprising tenderness.

“You’re still sure?” It’s all but a whisper. You nod, feeling legitimate eagerness bubble up in your chest, and place one of your hands on the back of their head to pull them in for another kiss. This time, you proactively give them access to your mouth, parting your lips ever so slightly. He smiles into the kiss, sensing your excitement, before you feel the coldness of a slick finger against your asshole. You want it so bad you think you might die.

Ever so slowly, Mary’s index finger teases its way inside and you shudder, moaning into their mouth. He breaks away from the kiss and studies your expression once the digit is about halfway in.

“How does it feel, baby?” They ask, testing the waters. It takes you a second to pull the right string of words together.

“It’s… Oh, Mary. I’ve never felt anything like this before.” He gives you a sympathetic look before burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your ear is practically in their mouth as they whisper to you teasingly.

“Of course you haven’t. You poor, innocent little thing.” Their tongue darts out to lick your earlobe while they slowly begin to pump their finger in and out, reaching deeper and deeper inside you. Mary smirks at the moans he pulls out of you. When he speaks again, it’s with the same rumble he uses on stage.

“You act all high and mighty with your Bible quotes and shit, but we both know there’s a filthy fucking whore underneath all that.” You feel a second finger prodding at your ass and you whine pathetically.

“Lucky for you, I corrupt good little Christian girls for a living.” Mary’s middle finger slides home and you practically wail at the stretch. They give you a moment to adjust and it’s just unbearable. You’re already craving more of the unfamiliar sensation, bucking your hips ever so slightly to encourage him to keep going. Mary kisses you as he gives in to your silent plea, his tongue immediately delving into your mouth. You wrap your arms around their torso and pull them down onto you, relishing in the weight of their body on yours.

Mary moans into your mouth, deep and guttural, as he grinds his clothed cock into your clit. Undoubtedly, your juices are getting all over the front of their pants, but you’re both so lost in the feel of each other’s bodies that neither of you really care. Besides, you know that Mary would wear your slick stains with pride, the disgusting fucking creature they are. The image has you clenching around their fingers.

“You like that, babe?” Mary jeers. “You like my fingers in your tight, little ass?” You nod frantically.

“Fu- Mmm. I like it, Mare! It’s so wrong but it feels so good!” You figure he’ll get a kick out of that and he does, groaning and grinding himself into you just a bit harder. Once you relax into their touch, they start scissoring their fingers, gently stretching the muscle. Suddenly, you’re right on the edge of what you know is going to be a powerful orgasm and you’re almost in disbelief; it’s never snuck up on you that fast before. It’s enough to break you completely, and the facade finally drops.

“Oh, fuck. Mary, I’m gonna cum! Mare!” They crash their mouth into yours as your climax washes over you and - Good Lord - it’s like nothing else. You cling onto him for dear life, nails digging into his back, as your insides spasm and pulse with energy. The sounds you’re making, you’re sure, are utterly pornographic, but you’re so lost in your release you’re practically deaf.

You come back down already wanting more. Any notion of continuing the game obliterated, you push Mary off of you and rise to your knees on the bed. In one smooth motion, you’re pulling the stuffy sweater over your head, exposing the rest of your body. The silly cross necklace falls to dangle between your breasts, the cool silver almost a shock against the still-healing tattoo on your sternum. Knowing there’s been a shift, Mary is already sliding down and pulling off their boxers as you lean over to grab the lube. You can’t help but shiver with anticipation when their cock springs free and smacks against their stomach. Tossing him the bottle, you plop down on the bed next to Mary and kiss him feverishly. They uncap it in a hurry and you hold out a hand. After he squirts a good amount into your palm you reach down to stroke his neglected length.

“Want more already?” They ask, trailing off into a moan as you thoroughly coat their shaft with the cool gel. You nod, letting out a reciprocal noise when you feel fingers pinch and tease your nipples. “Think you can take my cock?” You can’t help but laugh.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Once you’re certain Mary is sufficiently lubed up, you flip onto your stomach before rising to your hands and knees.

“I thought you were supposed to be ‘waiting until marriage’ tonight,” they say, shuffling up behind you on the bed. You roll your eyes, although you can’t help but laugh at his insistence that you stay in character.

“Ah, fuck! You’re right. Hold on a sec.” You clear your throat and muster up the most cliche porn-voice you can. “Oh, Mary,” you cry, wiggling your backside at him. “Won’t you please come and make love to my sweet virgin ass? It’s what God would want.” They shoot you a playful glare and lightly swat at one of your cheeks. Lining himself up with your entrance, his tip just barely puts pressure on your hole and yet you’re already mewling for him. You feel a hand on your upper back, gently massaging the flesh.

“You gotta relax for me, baby,” Mary breathes, starting to push himself inside you. It’s a challenge to do as they ask; every inch you take feels like ten and the pleasure is so intense it burns. The feeling of fullness when they finally bottom out is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. They’re completely rigid above you, and you know it’s taking them everything they have to not immediately start pounding into your ass. After what feels like an eternity of getting your bearings, you lean back onto Mary’s cock, silently begging him to start moving.

Who would they be if they didn’t immediately oblige? His thrusts start off slow, experimental, as if anticipating your discomfort. The friction against your inner walls makes you hiss, and for a moment, they halt entirely.

“Fuck,” you whine. “Don’t stop. It’s so fucking good.” Recognizing you’re not in (literally) gut wrenching pain, Mary picks back up. His pace is still slow, but that’s likely for his own sake rather than your comfort. Looking over your shoulder, you can’t help but moan when you see the way their face is scrunched up, teeth digging into their bottom lip as they fuck into you. A grin spreads across your face at the sight.

“Feel good? You- ah, fuck! You like breaking me in like this?” He nods, reaching around to start stroking your clit once again.

“You fucking bet. You’re so fucking tight. Holy shit, baby, I’m not gonna last like this.” You start rocking back into them, encouraging them to chase their release. They happily comply, swiping at your bud a little faster, and that pool of energy is already building up inside you again.

“Take it, slyna. Jag vet att du älskar den här kuken.” You haven’t a fucking clue what Mary is saying, but you’ve been with him long enough to know this means he’s barely holding on. At this rate, you’re not far behind.

“I bet you wish you could defile this pussy, too, Mare,” you taunt. They growl in response, thrusting into you hard.

“You have no fucking idea. If I ever meet the son of bitch who got that honor…”

“You’ll what? Kill him?” They huff out a laugh.

“I’ll shake his hand and buy him a beer.” The declaration has you falling over the edge; Mary doesn’t buy things for anyone unless he has to.

The fire in your belly has expanded to critical mass and you scream as your second orgasm of the evening tears through you. Wailing, your arms give out from under you and you collapse onto your chest. Mary groans as you clench around their cock, the last of their self control slipping away. They begin to pound into you wildly, working you through your climax as they come to the peak of their own pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it, älskling. You take it so fucking good. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum- ah!” True to his word, you shiver as Mary finally finds purchase in the tightness of your ass, flooding you with his release. The two of you are in suspended animation for a moment after they finally come down, panting, shaking, and covered in sweat. When Mary pulls out of you, flopping down by your side on the bed, you slide down onto your stomach.

“I think I deserve an award for that performance,” you mumble into the pillow. You reach behind with one hand and fiddle with the clasp of the necklace. With Mary’s assistance, you’re eventually shoving it into the abyss of the bedside drawer where it belongs.

“I’ll let the Academy know,” they say with a laugh. After a bit of rummaging through the shit on the nightstand, you produce the remainder of a joint and a lighter. With well practiced precision, you light up and take a few hits before passing it to your lounging partner. The smell of smoke fills the small bedroom as you lie back down, this time on top of him. Now face to face, Mary takes a long drag and presses his open mouth to your lips. You inhale what they have to offer greedily, already relishing in the fuzziness that creeps into your mind. The two of you stay like this until only the roach remains, prompting you to roll off of Mary, landing on your back. It’s like the stretch of their cock is permanently seared into your muscles, and you groan as the added pressure, combined with the sensitivity of your high, serves as a reminder.

“Happy you got to destroy my ass, Goore?” They hum contentedly, turning onto their side and draping and arm across your body.

“You know I did,” he murmurs. “Kinda sad you don’t have any more holes for me to deflower, though.” The admission has you convulsing with laughter until your stomach hurts.

“Then maybe next time it’ll be your turn.”

#my writing #mary goore x reader #mary goore fic #repugnant band #honestly i have no explanation for this... just take it yall #mary goore

73 notes · View notes

dewedup · 1 year ago

Text

Here's some degradation/humiliation Aether/Swiss I wrote to celebrate @jimothybarnes follower milestone! So proud of you my love, everyone say thank you Jimothy for being a stellar human being who deserves the best life has to offer (I hope you like it 🥹)

unbeta'd because jim is my beta and i wanted to surprise them so if you see any mistakes close your eyes please

a little over 1k of absolute filth, including begging, crying, blood and heavy degrading under the cut

18+

Swiss stands completely naked in the middle of the room, cock painfully hard and standing at attention. The tip is swollen red, pre dripping like a faucet. He’s so turned on he’s starting to sweat, perspiration beading at his brows and cascading down his too hot body. He’s surprised it doesn’t evaporate with how his skin feels like it’s on fire.

Aether is sitting in front of him, sprawled casually in the red velvet recliner as he picks at his nails disinterestedly. He’s fully clothed and mildly horny, but this is his favourite part. He plans to push it for as long as he can.

They’ve been here for an hour. Swiss displays himself with no modesty while Aether watches from underneath his lashes, feigning boredom.

A low whine escapes Swiss at the lack of stimulation, Aether’s eyes cut to his face instantly, his expression turning hard.

“Do you have something to say, pet?” Aether presses, rolling his neck as he sits up straight, eyes burning a hole in Swiss at the sudden attention. Swiss knows better than to say anything, fearing the repercussions, he bows his head in submission and tries to stifle the pathetic mewl that builds in his chest.

“You should be embarrassed, baring yourself like this in front of me. It’s laughable really, how turned on you are, and I haven’t even touched you yet. I don’t think I will,” Aether’s words are cut off by the desperate whimper Swiss couldn’t contain even if he tried. “So needy,” he tsks, shaking his head as he leans back into the recliner. Aether kicks a foot up, hitching it to his knee as his hand taps a rhythm on his shin. His posture is lazy, relaxed, the exact opposite of how Swiss is strung so tight that one wrong move would launch him into the ceiling.

Swiss’ eyes follow the movement of Aether’s fingers as they continue to dance, envying his fucking shin that he’s touching it so casually and not putting those fingers to use on his body. More pre leaks out, the splatter of it hitting the ground sounds like an explosion in the quiet room. His nerves feel frayed as he grips his hands tightly behind his back, claws digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood. The smell of copper floats around the room and Swiss swallows audibly as he waits for it to hit Aether’s nose. He can see the twitch of his nostrils as it finally meets its mark, and the disdain falling across his face is instantaneous.

“Stupid bitch,” Aether spits out, launching to the edge of his seat, feet planted firmly on the ground as he leans forward. His amethyst eyes sparking with the quintessence magic that courses beneath his skin. Swiss keens, fighting every urge in his body to drop to his knees and beg the ghoul to fuck him into oblivion.

He knows that won’t work, has tried it before with no success. If it was Dew, he’d watch the fire ghoul’s eyes light up in ecstasy, sparing no time to break the scene and fuck Swiss into the next dimension. Mountain would have taken pity on him fifteen minutes in, spending the rest of the time opening him up carefully to prepare for his monster cock. Hell, even Rain, who has a hidden mean streak of his own, and a well-deserved one at that, wouldn’t commit for this long. But Aether has a sense of control that he envies. He loves feeling completely in thrall and letting him take the reins.

“Pathetic little Swiss with his pathetic little cock. I bet you’ve never been able to please someone with that. I could fit the entire thing into my mouth and not even feel it. Would you like that, pet? Me putting that tiny cock in my mouth and wishing I could have a real dick instead?” Aether purrs as Swiss burns with shame, wanting exactly that. He’d tickle the back of Aether’s throat with his cock, but the quint ghoul would stubbornly refuse to gag on principle.

“I should get Dew in here, even his cock would give me more pleasure than that sorry excuse between your legs. Look at you standing there and leaking all over the floor. You’re making a mess. Clean it up.�� Aether snaps and points a finger down to the ground, Swiss dropping instantly to his knees. He leans down to the floor, tongue lapping up the salty pre that forms a puddle below where he was standing. He goes to stand up when he finishes but Aether hisses down at him, eyes practically glowing at the sight.

“Grovel slave, stay down there and beg me to let you come.” His words are sharp, biting. Swiss laces his fingers together like he’s praying to a higher power, braving the risk of making direct eye contact so he can see if his words please Aether.

“Please sir, please let me come. I’ll do anything, I’m such a good slut for you. I’m a pathetic little cum whore. I’m useless, worthless. I’m a cocksleeve who shouldn’t speak, the only thing I’m good for is a warm hole to put your dick in.” Swiss pleads, the words flying out of him as he tries desperately to find the magic combination, the secret code that will make Aether see he deserves to come.

“Cock craving whore,” Aether coos patronizingly, sitting back in his chair with a relaxed pose. The only thing betraying him is the tent in his pants that looks almost uncomfortable. “You’d be lucky to even see my dick, I wouldn’t bother trying to stick it in your stretched hole.”

Swiss is so close it’s painful, his cock throbbing with every second that passes.

“I think we’re done here,” Aether states, raising himself to his feet as he looks down at Swiss in disgust. “You’re so pathetic that the thought of you coming all over yourself untouched doesn’t even interest me. I’d rather watch paint dry than see your embarrassingly small cock kicking as you make even more of a mess on the floor. How does it feel to be a constant let down? Unable to please your partners, leaving them wanting someone who can actually make them come. No one wants you; this is a waste of my time.”

Swiss flushes in shame, tears building in his eyes as he takes the words Aether tosses at him, embarrassed at how his cock jumps at every degrading word that leaves the ghoul’s mouth as he makes his way to the door. The tears spill over, Aether pausing with his hand on the doorknob as he turns back to the multi-ghoul.

“I didn’t think you could get any more pathetic, yet here we are.” Aether is taking slow steps back to the centre of the room, his gaze burning into Swiss as tears fall down his cheeks, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he watches Aether stalking like a predator circling his prey.

“Please sir,” Swiss begs once more, a pathetic last attempt to capture the attention of the ghoul before him. Aether comes to a stop before him, so close Swiss could touch him if he was worthy of such contact.

Swiss inhales the spicy scent of quintessence in the air for a second before it tingles along his body, wrenching an orgasm from him with every lick of energy that zaps his nerves. He’s coming instantly, shooting without a target, splats of his ejaculation landing on Aether’s shoes from where he stands.

Swiss’ body shakes in the aftermath, his head blissfully in the clouds as he stares at Aether in adoration. Aether smiles down at him, reaching a hand out to softly cup his cheek.

“Good ghoul,” he says fondly, and Swiss knows he’ll have to clean up his mess later, but Aether lets him bask in the afterglow of his orgasm with the kindness he reserves for the end of their play. Aether runs his fingers through Swiss’ hair, massaging gently at the base of his horns and whispers sweet nothings, a complete turn from how he’s acted over the last hour, but exactly what Swiss needs to ride the high of his well-deserved subspace.

#i'll just leave this here #thank you jimothy for the idea #i've never really wrote either of these ghouls yet and it was a fun experiment #swiss ghoul #aether ghoul #degredation kink #humiliation kink #small dick humiliation #crying #tw blood #quintessence magic used in inappropriate ways #swiss would beg so good #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost fanfic #gloom writes #gloom loves jimothy

24 notes · View notes

i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years ago

Text

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @dont-touch-my-soup :D

My words are: enough, thanks, goodbye, unconscious

Your words are: threat, trust, tie, time

And I am tagging (if you want to, as always!) @verkja @siren-of-agony @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and you, if you want to.

Just finding the words (or thesaurus your way through it) in anything WIP or published, whatever.

I couldn’t decide, so now I’ll do 2 for Undeserved and 2 for Thorns!

Undeserved

Thanks

Actually, you can have 2 POVs for that one. As a treat.

“Thanks. Anything else we should know?” There was a long pause. Damien barely dared to breathe, wishing so much his brother would speak again. Tell them to give him some water, or send a healer, to at least pretend he’d care. Please. I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I love you. Please help me. Please, I don’t want to die. “No. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Anything else we should know?” the leader asked. Valadan wanted to say so much. Things like ‘get him a fucking healer, you asshole’ and ‘I’ll drown you in your bucket of piss if you ever touch my brother again’. “No. Good luck,” was what he said instead.

Unconscious

It was the unrelenting pain that dragged Damien out of his unconsciousness. There wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t hurt. His head, agony pounding behind his eyes, telling him he had used all of his magic and then some. His arms above his head, swollen and with the rope digging deeply into his wrists. His knees, almost numb after hours of being pressed against the ground; unfortunately, only almost. His skin, burnt on his back and stretching over countless bruises everywhere else. His forehead and nose pressed against the rough wood he was tied to.

Thorns

Enough

When the morning came, Caldyn didn’t feel like he was dying anymore. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing. The bit of water hadn’t been enough to truly save him, to allow him to heal. It had just been enough to keep him alive a bit longer, and that probably wasn’t a good thing either. He raised his right hand, flexing his fingers, noticing that he could feel them again. He could also feel the broken fingers of his left hand again, so he tried not to move them, because that was also not a good thing. Thinking about it, there really weren’t many good things left.

Goodbye

“I’m sorry. The fire’s gone. What have I done? I’m so sorry.” Seyonna was crying. “The morning was so chilly. I just thought some warmth would be nice. I didn’t think… didn’t know. I should have known, shouldn’t I? I always do everything wrong. It’s better if I leave. I’m so sorry.” And then, barely louder than a whisper, “Goodbye, Caldyn.” Caldyn heard her words, but was unable to understand them. Only the meaning behind them settled somewhere in his mind, drowned out by his panic.

#salad-tag

7 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years ago

Text

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. ��I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

4K notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Text

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by harry styles updates ♡ (@harryflorals)

instagram

warnings: smut, 18+

Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he’s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

#harry styles #hslot #harry styles love on tour #hslot!harry #hslotrry #hslot Harry #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #erodsafishtacos masterlist #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #husband!harry #harry styles husband #Instagram

1K notes · View notes

emeraldiis · 3 years ago

Text

Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #mcu #marvel #smut #needy!loki #my writing #fanfic

1K notes · View notes

strawbxrryneptune · 3 years ago

Text

I was so mad cause Tumblr deleted this when I was about to post it but I'm glad it did cause I have an even better idea

May I present... Dragon!Kirishima x Dragon!Bakugou with spoiled princess reader

@miggiisdumb this is for you bby

Masterlist

♡♡

Being a princess had its perks. You could have virtually anything you wanted, which was fun, but then everyone thought you were spoiled. A brat.

They weren't wrong, but you wanted them to fear you.

You wanted to be respected, and what better way to do that then take in two wild, feral dragons?

Bakugou and Kirishima, two barbarians from the dragon kingdom, captured and brought to you as a symbol of their faith in you.

They were muzzled and drooling when they met you, smelling the sweet smell between your legs at the sight of them, the scent of you so strong Kirishima fell to his knees, drool pooling on the floor as he panted harshly, clawing at Bakugou’s legs in need.

He couldn't ever look you in the eye, always trained on your pretty tits, amplified by the tight corset, or even the space between your covered thighs, nose twitching when he got near you, bulge straining in his pants a clear indicator of how bad he wanted you, even though he acted shy.

Bakugou, on the over hand, was more forward. He kept you locked in gaze throughout the day, often putting you in your place when you got too snappy with him.

Technically they were your body guards now, so when you got on the blondes nerves, there was no one to stop him from mounting you, the old guards only able to stand and watch unless they wanted to be mauled to death.

He would have you face down, ass up, hips grinding into your ass while he snarls, spewing filth out of his mouth.

"You act so high and mighty but you're just another slut."

"Be fuckin happy I got this shit on my face, Brat"

"M' gonna dump so much fuckin cum in you you won't be able to breath without feelin my pups. Gonna stuff you so full and have Kiri eat it outta ya, ain't that right, mutt?"

At that, Kirishima lifts his eyes from where they were staring at your legs, drool dribbling down his chin and pants straining against his hard on.

"B-breed."

Bakugou grins wildly, pushing your dress up and moving slightly over, crooking his finger to Kirishima in a come here motion.

"Smell her, Mutt. She's fuckin aching for it."

Kirishima immediately scrambles forward, growls of excitement quickly turning to whimpers when the muzzle restricts him from pressing his face into your cunt.

You yelp as Bakugou grips the back of your neck amd drags your head back, snarling into your ear to unlock the traps so we can get a taste of you.

You reach back a shaky hand to grab the key from your pocket, Bakugoy snatching it and unlocking himself and Kirishima.

As soon as the red head is free, he lunges for you, but Bakugou grabs his left horn and tugs him up to his mouth, canines grazing Kirishmas ear.

"You don't move until I tell you to move, Dragon."

Kirishima bares his teeth at him, but quickly turns his neck in submission when Bakugou reveals rows of sharp teeth, a heavy growl coming from the blondes throat as he nips at the other males throat.

He pushes Kirishimas head roughly into your cunt, making him groan as he pushes his rough tongue inside you, your back arching at the feeling.

"So good. Good-breed-"

You cut off Kirishimas rambling with a sharp moan as his teeth graze your clit, tongue soothing the throbbing bud as he laps at it, thick fingers reaching up to plunge into you.

You start to foggily wonder where Bakugou went, but then you look up and see him in front of you, cock standing tall.

Its so pretty, thick with bulging veins running along it and ridges, the fattest part of it the base, and the tip, which are swollen and pink. It reaches slightly past his belly button and you wonder if he'll tear your throat apart.

He grabs the base of it, squeezing gently as he inches forward, and you open your mouth to take him in when you notice his balls.

They're so fat and heavy that you have a sudden and intense urge to take them in your mouth, give him some release cause you know he must he aching.

You weren't wrong.

The thing about Bakugou was that since he had such a big cock, it was hard to find someone to take it.

What made it worse was that back at home, he was a barbarian. No woman was willing to even look at him, let alone sleep with him. Kirishima was lucky, because yes, his dick was also huge, but he was on the nicer side and most woman didn't know or even think he was a barbarian. Few females could handle him, but at the end of the day he got to empty his heavy balls at least twice a week.

Bakugou hadn't cum in ages, never really having time to jerk off, spending most of his time pillaging and making deals.

So when the thick head of his cock pushed at your lips, but you ducked down and sucked at the bottom part of his balls instead, he let out a punched gasp, his hand tightening around his meaty cock and hips twitching forward in ecstasy.

You didn't know how sensitive he was, especially down there. He could already feel himself hurtling towards his high, cheeks red and head thrown back as he lets out the filthiest moans you've ever heard, thighs trembling around your head as he jerks his knot off rapidly, chest heaving.

You manage to wrap your lips around a good amount of him, sucking and moaning while your hand travels up, rubbing over his swollen tip and popping off his balls to give his knot a suck too, laving your tongue over the swollen skin and whimpering when he almost collapses, hands grabbing your head and pushing it back towards his ball, snarling about how hes too sensitive.

You, of course, don't listen, and push back against him to put his cock fully in your mouth, when you feel Kirishima behind you run something along your slit. You start to wonder if he was going to go back to eating you out, cause you knew you were creaming all over your thighs, overwhelmed from how hot it was sucking Bakugou off.

You were so close to the edge, you could cum just from a couple licks to your clit.

You feel something thick start to breach you, pausing in your quest to get Bakugous knot back in your mouth as you realize Kirishima is putting his dick inside you.

Bakugou realizes it at the same time, leaning over to bite into Kirishimas neck as a warning, but just as he sinks his teeth into the sweaty flesh, Kirishimas fat tip pops into you, stretching you so obscenely you cum, hard, careening forward and gagging on Bakugous dick, moaning around the top of his knot and making him whimper into the red heads throat, his knot swelling and dumping loads of cum into you, spilling out around the corners of your mouth and dripping onto his twitching balls.

Kirishima gasps at the feeling of you cumming around his dick coupled with Bakugous teeth on his throat, his eyes rolling back as he cums as well, filling you up to the brim and then some.

Bakugou reaches a shaky hand down and scoop his come from your mouth, licking his hands to taste himself as Kirishima does the same, and you almost cum as they lean forward and lick into each others mouth, hips rutting into your mouth and cunt sub consciously as they make out.

Fuck, you loved being a princess.

#bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima thirst #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bubbletalks #KiriBaku #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #kirishima x bakugou

2K notes · View notes