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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

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more gojo with curse!darling please! i lobe this concept<3

Gojo Satoru

P1 & P3

TW: abduction and captivity, mild condescension, mild coercion, NSFW hints, some descriptions of darling, but nothing too specific, a joke dissing people with blue eyes and pale skin

gn reader - fem labels (drama queen) & fem accessories (jewelry: various)

He kept you like one would a stray cat. Leaving you be as you found places of comfort around his apartment, hiding when you wanted to be left alone – which was almost always.

You hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Understandably so.

He’d set out food for you, locking the door with seals when leaving – scoffing out a laugh after coming home only to find the dish still on the table. He keeps forgetting you don’t eat.

You may look it, but you’re not exactly human.

But you are getting thinner, unfortunately. Suppose his apartment isn’t ideal hunting ground for a curse. And as you’ve gotten weaker, you’ve become wilder – primitive in a way – hissing at him when he gets too close – feeling vulnerable.

You’re very cute.

But, cute or not, he doesn’t want to starve you. He isn’t cruel. So he walks and wonders what it is that you would find appetizing.

Watching your behavior – how you sneak around his apartment looting – like a crow – collecting shiny objects to deck yourself in. Stealing all his rings, chains, watches, belt buckles, manchets, any gold or silver-rimmed glasses, and anything else you can use as jewelry – old coins, can tabs, all the silverware – along with everything else you deem pretty – fabrics, flowers, decorations, all his silk shirts.

You rob anything and everything of value, making a nest of it all in the tub.

His theory is that the bathroom is the shiniest place in the house and, therefore, where you feel you most belong. You sleep there despite him having given you a room – coveting all your findings.

He’s never really thought about how a curse can have such behaviorism. It’s not too odd to keep tamed ones as pets, but still, he’s never thought about why one would aside from utilizing them in combat. But you weren’t made for such intents and purposes. You were… just fascinating to have. Not far off from being an exotic pet.

But even for a curse, you’re unusual.

It’s not fear or death you thrive on. It’s… something a lot more innocent, actually – which is probably why you have no malicious instincts to hurt him – not that you could if you tried. But he can tell… you don’t want to be a curse, do you? In fact, those few times he has nicknamed you curse, you’ve scowled at him a little more than usual.

No, what you desire is devotion – to be worshipped.

What you want is to be a god.

Quite like him, actually. You like having your ego stroked.

It’s your pride that needs feeding, and he can only asses that it feasts on people’s mad desire for you – of which he has plenty to give.

But you reject it.

“I won’t rely on the pity of a filthy jujutsu sorcerer. I’d rather starve.” You tell him with a sneer, curling yourself up with folded arms upon your chest – pouting with eyes closed, drowned in your treasure bath as though everything wasn’t nicking your skin, trying to ignore him.

He slants his head to the side, crouched down beside you with his arms resting on the tub, a smirk on his face – playing cute as he reaches a slim finger out to touch your cheek.

“Won’t you let a filthy jujutsu sorcerer worship you a bit? Trust me, a curse has never made me feel so weak before. Don’t you think I’d make for the best beggar?”

You grimace, brows deepening into a vexed frown without opening your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. “I won’t be patronized. You keep playing with me like I’m your toy.”

“Maybe a little,” He chuckles softly. You’re such an honest and expressive little curse. “But I do think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen~”

“Naturally.” You reply simply, the furrow in your brow softening, but you don’t offer much more.

“Come on, pretty curse.” He drawls. “Let me help you before you waste away.”

You scoff. “Tch- foolish, selfish human… you really are such an ugly thing to behold.” The furl returns, but still, you keep your eyes closed. “Do you honestly think that your rancid touch is going to save me?” Then you laugh – harshly and mockingly. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. A god requires offerings left at their shrine, not the filthy touch of the peasants that leave them.” Your nose scrunches suggestively. “You should consider it a blessing to even be allowed to look at me.”

Vain and stubborn, he thinks. You are the curse of beauty. But still, he's never experienced rejection before.

Suppose he has to try a little harder…

He soon finds himself courting you. Trying to make you comfortable.

He starts giving you gifts – first, silver silk bedsheets that lure you into sleeping in your bed instead of the bathtub, along with other changes that make your room more appealing – ornate wallpaper, canopy drapes surrounding the bed, and a smaller chandelier for the ceiling. Happy to see you abandon your former treasure in the tub in favor of your new dwelling.

Then he gifts you other pretty articles – clothes and such that actually fit you – patterned silks and lace. He attempts to give you clothes you can use to cover up more of yourself, but you seem partial to wearing less – most comfortable in just an elegant kimono you can easily discard on the floor.

You’re confusing like that – walking around his apartment half-naked but hissing and scowling at him when he stares.

It’s more the jewelry you enjoy wearing – crowns, earrings, necklaces, body chains, rings for your fingers and toes, bracelets for your wrists and ankles – everything in abundance. Jingling when you step about.

You seem healthier after receiving his presents. Also, a bit less skeptical – now engaging in conversation with him – although often about what his next gifts will be and if he can buy you diamonds and rubies for you to bead your hair.

“Sorry, but the banks closed. I’m not giving you a single dime, your highness.” He laughs one day, eyes bright and smiling, watching the puzzlement befall your face before the spread of horror that soon followed after hearing his next words. “In fact, I’m gonna start taking things away.”

“You wouldn’t-” Your voice had dropped into something so weak it was adorable, no longer having that strident overconfidence you’d built up.

It makes him feel almost bad watching your face drain and become so distressed like a spoiled little brat who’d just been told no��for the first time.

“Oh- I would.” He grinned like it was all only a cruel joke to him – something just for shits and giggles. “Satoru Gojo giveth and Satoru Gojo taketh away.”

“But-” Your lip wobbles, and he can spot the tears brimming in your eyes already.

He doesn’t let it bother him. Or at least he doesn’t let it show.

“I think I’ll start with all your jewelry- how about that necklace you’re wearing right now?” He threatens, pale hand reaching towards your neck to pull your pearls off – but you shrink into a ball on the floor before he has the chance to.

“No, no, no, don’t-” You start sobbing, and he thinks it’s the first time he’s seen a curse be so sad and desperate.

Not to mistake those countless curses he’d made cry and plead for their life, but that wasn’t what you were doing. You were grieving.

You’re really such a simple thing, aren’t you?

His smile softens into something not so cruel. Crouching down to your level, placing his hand atop your head where you’re bowed and bawling, petting you soothingly. “Okay then, drama queen. Stop your crying. I’ll let you keep it.”

You raise your head, hopeful. Looking at him with terribly puffy eyes - cheeks streaked with teardrops hanging off your lashes. Looking so pained and vulnerable, it made his heart ache at the sight.

You don’t say anything but he can tell there’s a question on your lips you’re unable to voice.

“Under one condition.” He answers.

You flinch when his hand slides from your hair to cup your cheek, holding your chin as he rolls on his feet and places a kiss on your salty lips.

You gasp and allow it for a second but then abruptly push him off – falling back on your butt. “No- you’ll make me filthy.” You rush out. “Beauty is meant to be admired, not reaped. It’s not right. You can’t-”

He watches you blush and stutter and thinks it’s silly how he hasn’t thought about it before. But now it’s become clear. Curses spawn from human fears, after all. It’s not strange that they’re so similar. But still… he’d never think a curse would be afraid of losing their virginity.

“It’s okay,” He coos, setting his knees down softly – crawling forward to where you sit, hiding your face behind small hands decked in too many rings. “I’m not gonna stain you…” He promises, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel like the most desired diety in the world.”

Your breath shivers as he takes your hands and uncovers your face – eyes wide looking at him.

“And after I’m done admiring you, I’ll get you more diamonds and rubies than you can count.”

You swallow – eyes skittering from one of his blue ones to the other.

“Really?” It’s below a whisper.

“You bet.” He answers with a smile, flashing you a smirk. “I’ll get you enough to swim in.”

Your nose does a little twitch like it usually does, but this time, it’s not to express disgust. “Do you promise?” You bite your lip – staring at him.

“Let’s make it a binding vow.”

And that’s the arrangement.

You let him admire you in ways you’ve never let anyone else before, but only if he fulfills all your greedy heart’s desires.

He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have something to spend money on that’s worth it.

You’ll lie next to him and he’ll get to study you up close – finding things that betray you – model details that aren’t in line with human imperfections. Missing bone structure, flawless symmetry, hairless skin devoid of any and all accent of mark or spot – just smooth milky texture without a single fault.

He says it’s sad – that the standard for beauty isn’t even achievable, to which you reply that it’s only fair everyone should be subject to the same disappointment, never to achieve perfection like you.

He asks if you think he’s really that ugly. And you say yes.

“Liar.” He accuses. Head propped on his hand, his hair a tousled mess lying in the bed beside you.

You’re looking up at the ceiling but close your eyes insouciantly at his comment. You tip your chin a bit as you speak – lips pouty and proud. “Lies are an ugly trade- in which I don’t partake.”

“Oh, really?” He rolls on top of you and you give a whine. Looking up into his sparkling blues and how his pearly hair falls loose and wispy. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me I’m ugly.” He dares.

“Puh-” You scoff, folding your arms above your puffed chest, looking off to the side, still with eyes closed as though to dismiss him like you so often do. “Men with beady bright blue eyes and pink skin look like pigs.”

You sneak a peek with one eye when he doesn’t answer. He’s still looking down at you – still daring you.

And you continue. Raising a finger to nudge his nose up. “Say oink-oink, piggy.”

He brushes your finger away as he leans in closer. Now with his nose rubbing yours.

“Tell me I’m ugly.” He repeats – his voice dipping low into that serious tone that makes your breath tight and your stomach flurry.

“You’re-” You try but it ends up swallowed, stifled beneath those big worldly blues. “You’re…” You try again but it’s worse than the first time, making you bite your lip. He’s not budging.

You look away. Feeling defeated and mopey because of it.

“You’re not as pretty as me.” You finally sulk.

So cutely grumpy with your pursed lips and vexed brow, he just has to laugh. “Tch- now that we can both agree on.”

And then he forces you to laugh too – beginning to snort like a boar into your ear, placing sloppy kisses to your neck while you scream out that it tickles.

P1 & P3

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vivwritesfics · 5 months ago

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Okay oak

So soulmate x driver

So it is lime two people being fated to always just miss or die? Kibda just before they meet each other

You can make it happy or not

Thinking max, carlos or charles/logan

🫶🫶

Lobe xoz

Please never stop being you 💓

I took this in a veeeeeeeery different direction sort of but also not

Warnings: Death, reader dies, max dies (a couple of times, actually), racing related death, murder and stabbing, shooting, sad but not really

Past lives. Some people believed in them, some people believed that this wasn't their first go around.

Max Verstappen knew it wasn't. Well, he didn't know it right away. In fact, the concept of a past life was something he wasn't familiar with growing up. That wasn't the sort of nonsense his father would entertain.

But then Max laid eyes on her.

He knew her. They hadn't met before, but he knew her. How on earth did he know her? He hadn't seen her face online, through his phone screen, but she was so damn familiar.

She was Charles's girlfriend. She was just a girl from Monaco that one of his best friends was now dating. But that wasn't how Max knew her, because this was the weekend they were taking to go public.

The way he was looking at her was creepy, incredibly so. Everybody that caught him staring at Charles's new girlfriend thought so, and somebody had to pull him up on it.

The problem was that Max didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know he was staring at her, too lost in his thoughts because where the hell did he know her from? He wasn't looking at her with lust on his face, more confusion than anything else.

Max had a dream that night. It was incredibly weird to be dreaming of somebody else while you old lady girlfriend slept beside you. (I'll be honest it was a real tragedy that Kelly attended that race weekend).

In this dream, Max wasn't Max. He didn't know his name, but he knew he was somebody else. The fact that he was in a horse drawn carriage should have given indication that his dream wasn't set it modern day.

"A ball, papa? Really?" Max was supposed to be a perpetual bachelor, he knew. He'd marry when he had to, when he needed an heir. But his father wanted him at this ball, wanted him there to watch out for his sister. Max hated it.

He'd have some friends at the ball, he knew, there to find themselves wives. He'd be there to glare at any man who thought himself a good enough match for his sister. Max would be the judge of that.

The ball was incredibly boring. He stood, talking to lords and other sons of lords. He spoke to hungry mamas that wanted to secure him as a good match for their daughters. He tried to be charming, he really did, but they were making it so damn hard.

But then she walked into the ball.

Max had been mid sip of his drink and was damn near ready to spit it out. He knew her brother, knew her mama, but had never met her before. God, she really was something else. Everything in the room seemed to dull in her presence.

This was the first time he had seen her, that was for sure.

Finishing his drink, Max started forward. Every man in the room would want to be on her dance card, he knew. He just had to hope that he'd get there first.

Another lord took her hand and danced across the floor with her. A dissatisfied noise left his lips as he watched them. He'd never been a very patient man, this was truly a test for him.

When the dance finished, she gave a polite bow and walked to find her mama or her brother.

Max intercepted her search. He gave his name and, with a bow, she gave her own. "So," he said, mouth running dry as he took her hand and the dance began. "Tell me about yourself."

She rattled off a list of accomplishments, things every young lady had been taught to do since birth. The pianoforte and embroidery. How many times had Max heard those two since he walked into the ball?

"That's not what I meant," he said with something of a laugh. "Tell me about yourself. You, the things you enjoy doing. Not the things your mama has had you doing since birth."

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Well, my lord, I enjoy dancing. Not like this, but full body moving. This is dainty and graceful, the dancing I enjoy is loud and expressive."

"It sounds impressive," he replied as they moved across the dance floor. He hadn't looked around since their dance began, but he knew that they were the two most sought after people in the room. And they were dancing together. It was like some cosmic joke, and he was the one laughing. "Do you think I could see it one day?"

Her eyes were bright, smile wide the moment the words left his lips. "I'm not sure, my lord. It wouldn't be very proper."

"I've never been one for propriety," he whispered in her ear.

She gasped, but she wasn't disgusted with him. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked as though she wanted to pull him outside, to show him how little she cared for propriety, too.

Suddenly, the doors were thrown open. The music stopped and everybody in the room whipped their head towards the door. There stood a man. Max didn't know him, and he knew almost everybody. But not this man, clothes a mess and expression crazed.

"Gregory," the girl dancing with him gasped.

The crazed man by the door narrowed his eyes at her. "My love!" He howled and marched towards them.

"What's going on?" Max tried to whisper to her, but she hid herself behind him.

Her hands shook as she gripped his arm. "He's crazy," she whispered back. "H-he wants me to be his wife! He hasn't courted me, he hasn't spoken to my mama or my brother. He has just declared that I'm the one he's going to marry."

When Gregory got close enough, Max placed his hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "My good sir," he said, trying to maintain polite. But she was trembling too much for him to stay composed. This man had an incredibly punchable face, he realised. "I'd advise you to leave the young lady alone."

Gregory let out another crazed howl. Before Max could push him away, there was a stinging pain in his chest. Gregory pulled his hand away from his chest and Max looked at where the man had just touched him.

The beautiful hilt of a knife was sticking out of his chest, red pooling around it and staining his shirt. "Oh," was all he could say before he dropped to the floor.

The screams started up almost instantly, but whoever Max had been was dead. He watched on, though, a ghostly figure watching as Gregory tried to drag her away.

"Come, my love," he commanded, but she pushed against him.

"No," she cried, desperately searching for help. But everybody was too afraid to move. What would Gregory do next? Surely he'd try to kill anybody that stood in his way.

"Darling, stop being so dramatic," he said and pulled her across the dance hall.

The first person to move was her brother. He produced a weapon, a gun that her certainly shouldn't have been carrying. But if Gregory had made himself a known problem, Max didn't blame him for carrying the gun.

But the shot didn't hit Gregory. It would have, if Gregory hadn't pulled her behind him. No, the bullet went through her back, and she dropped like a stone.

Max woke up with a start. He'd never thought about having a past life before, but this had been so real. It couldn't have been anything but.

He didn't know that, in another hotel room, Charles's girlfriend was having the same dream that he was. She dreamt of her own death, and that had terrified her enough to wake her up.

She hated that she was dreaming of the Red Bull driver, not when her boyfriend was sleeping beside her. She didn't even know Max. She'd heard of him, sure, but why was she dreaming of him?

The next day was the first time she met Max Verstappen. Well, the first time in this lifetime. Charles had introduced them, and they tried to act like they hadn't just dreamt about each other.

All they were allowed was one single meeting. A quick handshake and fate decided that they'd had enough. But it seemed to go this way in every lifetime for the two of them.

It was quite sad, wasn't it? That they never survived for much longer past their first meeting.

For Max, there was a crash. He was upside down and in the wall, unable to respond. The marshals and medical staff got him out of the car and into the ambulance, but it wasn't looking good.

It had been a freak accident, as well. No other cars were near him as he just... went. The red flag was brought out and Max was taken to the hospital.

Three hours later and he was dead. He was dead, but he was still there. Once again, he was a ghostly figure, watching her. He realised it then, the fucked up version of soulmates that they were. Only supposed to be together in death.

Her death was a medical mystery. Max watched on as she just... went. Charles was pushing on her chest, desperately calling an ambulance, but she was already gone.

He looked up as a second ghostly figure appeared. "Hey," he said.

She said his name. Not just Max, but every name he had ever gone by. When he was a pirate and she was the siren that lured him to his death. When he was fighting in the war and she was treating his wounds. When he was a lord and she a lady.

"Do you want to show me how you dance?" He asked, moving closer.

"That wouldn't be very proper," he replied.

The world kept moving without them. For now, until their next go around started, they were frozen in time.

"I've never been one for propriety."

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vulpisnocturna · 1 year ago

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hello <3 i hope you’re doing well! could i please request prompt 7 and 14 for Itachi? thank you in advance hehe

It would be my pleasure ;)

7: Power Imbalance

14: Rough Sex

Masterlist

Kinktober Day 2: Power Imbalance with Itachi

Warnings: power imbalance, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie, no massacre au

You let out a slight huff as you listened to your Captain drone on about mission duties. You found him to be patronising. He wasn’t mean, he was quite polite, actually, but his tone reminded you of a teacher scolding a petulant child. You were no child, and though he might have been a more experienced ANBU and your Captain, you were still Lieutenant, and you weren’t weak by any means.

‘Are you listening to me?’ he quipped, smooth, deep voice slightly irked, as if he thought you immature.

‘Yes. You said follow orders. Got it’ you said, crossing your arms and staring at him. The room of the inn you were staying in for the night was cold, and your uniform did not provide much coverage.

‘I said that five minutes ago’ he lifted a dark eyebrow, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was tired of you.

‘Did the topic of your monologue change since then?’ you snapped, disliking his attitude. For someone so impassive, his irritation was sure seeping through the cracks of his calm façade.

‘I detect some hostility, paired with clear insubordination’ he said.

‘Not to be rude, Captain, but it’s hard to respect you when you speak to me in such a patronising tone’ you said, aware that even though you had prefaced your sentence with that disclaimer, your tone would be considered rude. But you trusted your captain to be able to have a conversation around the weight of the argument and not rules.

‘It’s hard for you to follow my orders is what I am gathering from your tone- which is, once again, impudent’ he said, tapping his fingers on his toned bicep. You let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes.

‘I’m being honest here. If you want the teamwork, you gotta work for it’ you said, sure that by being more forward with your complaints you could make some steps in the right direction. Itachi was a reasonable guy, a patient one, even though you knew well not to push him too far.

‘I see. I cannot have a subordinate who clearly revels in defying me. It could prove utterly dangerous in a mission’ he said, looking down at you. Your brow furrowed, and you swallowed, shaking your head.

‘You can’t fire me’

‘I am not going to fire you. I am going to teach you how to follow orders. Despite your… shortcomings, you are a capable kunoichi, and I cannot replace you. Therefore, you are going to have to learn’ he said, his face unreadable. Your lips parted, and you took a step towards him, overtaken by annoyance at him saying you had shortcomings but also butterflies in your stomach at the words that had followed his backhanded compliment.

‘What do you mean sh-‘ you started to say, but was interrupted when Itachi closed the distance between you and placed his hands on your waist, his head dipping to kiss your neck. You let out a soft gasp, your heart hammering in your chest as Itachi’s- your Captain’s lips pressed against your pulse point, tracing your artery to the junction of your shoulder and neck, where you could not contain a small whimper.

‘Captain, what-’ you breathed, your mouth dry as Itachi continued kissing, making you feel hot all over.

‘Do you trust your Captain? Or are you incapable of that too?’ he murmured against your ear, nipping at your lobe, ‘you need be taught a lesson on rules. I believe enjoyable lessons often lead to better results, considering my monologues do not seem to work on you’

You could not believe your ears. Itachi wanted his lesson to be delivered through fucking? Not that you would stop him, Gods, he was the most attractive man you had ever met, but how was this going to teach you how to follow mission rules?

‘I- trust you. But how is this going to help you?’ you whispered, your face growing hot as Itachi’s hand slid to your ass, cupping and squeezing.

‘That’s all I need to know. No more questions’ he said again, voice low and seductive, just before he turned you, wrapping his arms around you, sucking on your neck.

You let out a soft moan, pressing your ass against him, to which he chuckled.

‘The first thing you need to learn’ he drawled, one hand lifting to knead your breasts, ‘is patience. Until I say it’s time, you wait. Understood?’

You weren’t sure you were following him, but you nodded a little, and Itachi hummed in a satisfied tone, helping you take off your undershirt. He must have taken off his too, because your next contact with him was skin to skin. The pad of his fingers grazed your nipple, and you shivered, now rutting against the bulge in his trousers.

‘Stay still. Patience, pretty girl’ he said, pinching your nipple harshly when you didn’t listen to him and rolled your hips against him again. You whimpered, squirming, to which his teeth sank on your shoulder, making you moan loudly.

‘The more you disobey, the rougher I will get. And if you continue, I won’t let you cum’ he said, and you gritted your teeth, the pressure in your lower stomach growing along with your impatience.

Itachi was slow but deliberate as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, completely ignoring your lower body to the point where you thought you might implode soon. You tried to pull his hand lower, but he clucked his tongue, one hand squeezing your throat, long, willowy fingers pressing on the sides.

‘What did I just say? Lesson two: you ask me for permission. You do not act by yourself without my knowledge’ he said, and you closed your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip.

‘Can you touch me, Captain?’ you tried, hating the way you had to ask him to do it. And yet, at the same time, it was turning you on. The power he had, the control he had stripped from you in a matter of seconds…

‘Good girl’ he crooned, and you swore a small moan left your lips at his words. He yanked down your trousers, cupping you between your legs, applying some pressure.

‘See? It seems you enjoy obedience after all’ he said, dragging his fingers over your clothed cunt. Your hips twitched, and your face flushed at the humiliating comment. He slid his hand under your panties, two fingers easily pushing inside you. He curled them, and you stopped breathing for a second, a lewd moan pouring out of your lips as he found the perfect spot.

‘Ahh- Captain…’ you breathed, one arm lifting to anchor yourself to his nape.

You started moving your hips into his hand, and his fingers curled on your hip, keeping you still.

‘I did say stay still, darling’ he said, pumping his fingers in and out, the palm of his hand rubbing against your sensitive clit, making you whine for him.

‘Keep going- I’m close’ you keened, a distressed groan tearing through you as he stopped, slipping his fingers out of you.

‘Lesson three: what I say goes. You don’t call the shots’ he said, pushing you on the futon, taking off your trousers and soaked panties, taking off the remainder of his clothes and climbing on top of you.

He wasted no time, thrusting inside you, tearing a whine from you and a soft groan from him.

‘Fuck- so tight’ he murmured, gripping your thigh, bottoming out and thrusting back in.

‘Captain- fuck…’ you let out, your nails embedded in the pale skin of his upper back. He latched onto your neck again, sucking harshly.

‘Now, it will be rough, as a consequence for your behaviour in this mission’ he said, starting at a relatively slow pace, but his thrusts were deep, pressing against your g-spot and making you see stars and squeeze around him. You nodded, your eyes dazed as Itachi lifted one of your legs and quickened the pace, making it hard and fast, until tears were prickling at the corners of your eyes and your cunt was pulsing around him, a devastating orgasm washing you.

But he did not relent. He lifted your other leg, slamming his hips against you, letting out soft moans and grunts, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix, making you unable to speak or think, even when he released one of your legs in order to wrap his fingers around your throat once again. You could feel him everywhere, dragging along your walls, stretching you out, the slight upward tilt of his cock deliciously pressing against your g-spot in a way that made you lose your damn mind.

‘Ahh- I-tachi… Captain…’ you moaned, clawing at the blanket until your knuckles whitened and ached.

‘Lesson four: learn politeness. Now ask nicely’ he said relentlessly, the shadow of a smirk on his face, his eyes now red with his sharingan. You stared at him, entranced, your own eyes bleary and expression dazed from just how good it felt.

And yet, you didn’t want to have to beg for it. Didn’t want to stoop that low, even if he was your Captain, even if he felt so good-

He slipped out of you, turning you on your stomach, lifting your hips up and spreading your thighs with his knee, sinking back into you, his hand fisting your hair and pulling as he smacked your ass hard. You whined, biting down on your lip.

‘Ask nicely, and I will let you cum’ he said, fingers digging in your hip as he continued to fuck you, though he was avoiding your g-spot on purpose, and in this position, his cock reached even deeper, felt even bigger.

‘Fuck- please, Captain’ you moaned, and he clucked his tongue, seemingly displeased.

‘Please what? Words, darling. If you can manage them’ he taunted, and you cursed, tears staining your feverish cheeks.

‘Please, let me cum, Captain. Want it- so bad’ you cried out, and immediately, he rewarded you with his fingers on your clit, deft and skilled, and you felt the band in your stomach tighten and snap, releasing. Your cunt clamped around his cock, throbbing with your orgasm, and you heard him moan softly, fingers pulling on your hair even harder -not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you whine filthily for him.

‘That’s a good girl’ he huffed out, his own voice sounding breathy, as though he was close, ‘where can I-’

‘Cum inside me- please… on the pill- inside me’ you stammered, still coming down from your high, and he lifted you up, wrapping strong arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a soft moan and spent himself inside you, pushing a few times before he stilled.

He held you up, and you were grateful for it, unsure if you would have been able to stay upright if it weren’t for his arms.

He slipped out of you, helping you to lie back down as he leaned on his elbow, catching his breath. A minute later, he was already up, putting on a pair of trousers and disappearing in the bathroom. When he came back, he had a damp towel, which he used on your inner thighs, even after you told him you could clean yourself up.

‘Did you learn your lesson?’ he asked after you were both back in your clothes and lying down on the futon, and you turned to him in the dim light of the room, sucking in your lips to keep from grinning.

‘I’m not sure. Might need some revising’

#itachi uchiha smut #itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi smut #itachi x reader #itachi imagines #itachi x you #itachi x y/n #naruto smut

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borathae · 4 months ago

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Chapter 36

idk feeling soo content cuz last chapter ended fluffy and she is cleaning the library (i lobe her and she is my wifey) and the warning is slightly scary haha 😃👀

“Again, it kind of is”, he answers you HE IS SUCH A LIL SHIT SCARING HER FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

“I’d love to see you try. Your uppercut is weak.” VIOLENCE

WAIT HIS SWEATER??? RAAAAAAH HE SAID SHE LOOKS GOOD IN IT AND CAN TAKE IT *jumps out the window

he really said you want it? here take it (irl tae's power lol)

“what’s gotten into you?” fr did he drink some love potion or something lol

I’m entirely yours for the rest of the evening SOMEBODY ARREST THIS MAN HE JUST KILLED ME

He seems….sad, OH NO UM CLEAN THE CEILING

YOU CANT FLY man that sucks

He looked for a book about plants for her? OMG HE READ FOR HER He wanted to be prepared so he could sound intelligent and professional and maybe also impress you or whatever. UWUW AAH “Just some books”, he says, scratching the side of his neck. shy baby What did he look up? um smut SORRY I HAD TO

their banter aaah i love it so cute NO WE DONT HATE U WHO SAID THAT

Yoongi seems confused at first, moving his head away until your fingers finally brush against him. Like a cat that doesn’t know if it wants to be petted or not.

what do you want me to say? Yeah, I care about it.” YES OLD SOFT KITTY ADMITTED IT

HE PURRED FUCK IM LEAVING IDK WHERE BUT IM GOING TO WALK THROUGH WALLS

“I didn’t purr! Shut up, I’m not a bat. This is racism against vampires”

This awful sorcerer cursed you to uncontrollable violence and blood thirst, but you broke that curse. Are you even aware of what you achieved? What you did? You wrote your own destiny, Yoongi. And honestly you always speak of redemption, but in my eyes you have redeemed yourself a long time ago.” namjoon stop cutting onions, i love this para

you think that’s something you can handle?” STOP IM BLUSHING AAAH like her compliments are making me giggle like my crush smiled at me hhahaah

“okay…thank you”, he says nonchalantly. oh my tsundere kitty i love you

"But they’re honest”, he sounds offended as if he doesn’t want them to be cheesy. did i tell you i love yoongi? (definitely not) and that i love the way you write him? (nope never)

“Is it another prison?” He looks saddened for a moment. “Sorry, dark humour. POOKIE NOT THE TIME 😭😭

“That’s so weird, I was never here before.” how big is this house man? narnia? who cleans it?? the cleaner needs a raise we got the keys? im so emotional dont touch me

TAER IS GETTING OUT YES MY LOV EMY OOOKIE MY BOY MY HEART AAH

oh boy this is going to end bad huh yoongi, at one point, she has to leave and go to university soo... oh thank god its winter break. imagine she has a bestie and she just texts, "guess what happened during the break", "you probably rot in your bed like the potato you are" "well, im now dating 3 vampires???" "BITCH WTF" "i may or may not have been kidnapped too??"

TAE OH TAE OH TAE MY HEART IS HURTING FR WHAT DID YOU ADD HERE SIBI

yoongi wtf man

oh no yoongi is already upset and tae provoked yeah jimin my baby 😭😭 we didnt get to give him a chance 😭

ok yoongi is right about that, but tae regretted it and felt real for her

YOONGI STOP HURTING HIM PLEASE waht are u doing no no

yoongi idk waht to say

“Again, it kind of is”, he answers you HE IS SUCH A LIL SHIT SCARING HER FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

I love him he is just a goof 😔

WAIT HIS SWEATER??? RAAAAAAH HE SAID SHE LOOKS GOOD IN IT AND CAN TAKE IT *jumps out the window

He is my pookie <3

“what’s gotten into you?” fr did he drink some love potion or something lol

he is just in loooveee

I’m entirely yours for the rest of the evening SOMEBODY ARREST THIS MAN HE JUST KILLED ME

I NEED HIM VIOLENTLY

I'm so sad :( he loves her so much :(

their banter aaah i love it so cute NO WE DONT HATE U WHO SAID THAT

I LOVE THEIR BANTER SO MUCH!!!

you think that’s something you can handle?” STOP IM BLUSHING AAAH like her compliments are making me giggle like my crush smiled at me hhahaah

heheheh she is so cute heheheh

“okay…thank you”, he says nonchalantly. oh my tsundere kitty i love you

i love him so MUCH!!!

"But they’re honest”, he sounds offended as if he doesn’t want them to be cheesy. did i tell you i love yoongi? (definitely not) and that i love the way you write him? (nope never)

i love him so so so so so so much!!! my beloved boongie <3

TAE OH TAE OH TAE MY HEART IS HURTING FR WHAT DID YOU ADD HERE SIBI

hahah the downfall at the end is so funny to me JFJADJF

#asks: sanguis alpha #asks #minusback #tw: long post

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valentine-cafe · 7 months ago

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. ˚◞♡ 𝒛𝒉𝒂𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒖 9948 𝒆 — the artful reaper◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ i swear to you, you have my heart, my eyes, my mind, my very soul. so will you please allow me to keep you safe instead of watching you jump out into danger so recklessly — please ” ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 9948e

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ reaper

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 26

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱ enfp

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ looming darkness, midnight orchid, filth-blood ( by the heavens ), pest orchid ( by his father ).

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. long, straight black hair that extends down to his midback

𖹭. dioxazine purple eyes with slitted pupils. has a vertical piercing on his left brow

𖹭. round decorative glasses with silver chains

𖹭. pale skin, a mix of masculine and androgynous features from certain angles

𖹭. standing at 6’8” (207cm) height and fit build comprised of lean muscles

𖹭. dark talons extending from his fingers that don silver rings

𖹭. silver snake bite piercings on his lips

𖹭. two standard lobe and the stacked helix piercings on both ears along with the industrial on his right

𖹭. punk gothic and vintage aesthetic, both in makeup and clothing, can also switch to dark and elegant hanfus

𖹭. silver midline tongue piercing

𖹭. nipple piercings and a frenum piercing

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. chaos incarnate — if it was not for his habit of cussing out the gods, you would think he would descend to the underworld and become the new god of it. this man is *everywhere* everything all at once and is not afraid to show it.

𖹭. though to most he is not close to, hàoyú displays a calm, quiet and almost shy facade — to both shield himself from potential ulterior motives against him and also for the reason he is just. . . unsure about new people.

𖹭. is a very artistic and poetic individual, often taking great pleasure in sitting himself down after a long day and doing some sketching or poetry. sometimes full-blown illustrations depending on how he is feeling.

𖹭. but beneath all those layers, the reaper is energetic in nature and loves running around laughing loudly, while teasing his friends and siblings.

𖹭. has habits of throwing around jokes in situations where he feels like they’re in need of some light, trying to cheer up the people around him, because the truth is. he hates when things get gloomy. it makes him feel dead.

𖹭. though that is not to say he cannot be mature and serious, because he can, and trust us when we say, for the most part he keeps himself collected.

𖹭. not one to snap when things get frustrating or jumbled up — though usually, one finds him still dashing out a few jokes into the conversation. his humoristic behavior is one of his coping mechanisms

𖹭. it is something to keep him sane, from all of the overwhelming emotions that come crashing down on him when his world is silence and reality hits him.

𖹭. he has already experienced enough times where he was crying and screaming to the point he lost his voice, and instead of dwelling, he decided to turn the pain into humor, to cope and laugh instead of cry.

𖹭. he is an extremely empathetic and sympathetic man, deeply caring with the people that surround him.

𖹭. despite his chaotic demeanor, he is quite soft-spoken, whether it is because of his line of work as a university librarian or it is because of his missions around the society of shades — this caused him to pick up on quiet mannerisms, to maintain stealth and deceptiveness.

𖹭. can be quite intimidating when he wants to be and will not hesitate to shut someone down when they open a smart mouth and give him insults. he knows how to throw down people verbally and physically if he needs to.

𖹭. hàoyú overall, is a confident, loyal, honest and hardworking reaper. do not let his facades get to you, they may just be your downfall.

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. incredibly affectionate both physically and verbally

𖹭. prides himself on taking care of his lover. always presents a shoulder to cry on and is a very good listener. loves listening to you ramble and gets lost in your voice

𖹭. power knows no bounds and he can be quite the touchy lover — he’s especially touch-starved

𖹭. can be very teasing, always enjoying the idea of flustering you with words and actions. he’ll throw you off with little teases and flirts only to snatch you by the waist and turn your head to him when you try to hide from embarrassment

𖹭. always has his hands on you, whether they are on the swell of your hips, your waist, your thighs and sometimes even randomly bites you during the day

𖹭. can be quite clingy. this can also bleed into possessiveness which can become a bit more than he wants it to be. while it never turns toxic, he usually always feels terrible after

𖹭. spoils you rotten, affectionately or financially, in whatever way he possibly can

𖹭. dances you around the garden and whispers sweet nothings to your ear

𖹭. writes poems and songs for you, loves reciting and playing them for you

𖹭. can be quite chaotic around you but calms down if it is not something that you fancy

𖹭. very careful with you, not wishing to cross your boundaries or drive you away

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. soul-reaping: he has the ability to reap more than 100 souls and carry them on his scythe until he can send them away to the afterlife.

𖹭. vapour teleportation: can shift his physical form into a dark vapour and can move at high speeds towards a different location.

𖹭. dark vapor production: produces a dark vapour from his back and shoulders that can blind and disorientate enemies greatly.

𖹭. acrobatic fighting: very flexible and graceful in general, he is able to move his body in a fluid motions and exert his physical form a bit more than others.

𖹭. illusionary trickery: spells that he has taught himself, the ability to cast certain illusions.

𖹭. dark magic: the ability to cast spells and incantations using dark magic, this branches out into various fields

𖹭. skilled martial artist: trained from a young age in various martial arts and uses a combination of these in combat.

𖹭. can see souls/ghosts: as a reaper haoyu has the ability to see ghosts, spirits, wraiths, etc. along with the souls of both living and dead.

𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

𖹭. healing factor: a dull healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than an average human

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. peaches: has a very bad allergy to peaches and can be hospitalized due to it.

𖹭. attachment issues: has severe attachment issues that can trigger him to severe episodes of despair. he cannot stay very long without the ones that he loves.

𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it.

𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

𖹭. fading: occurs when a reaper goes through immense hurt and pain. their physical form quite literally begins to disappear, making them appear transparent. it can be a very painful process, both emotionally and physically. until their physical form eventually fades away and their soul moves on to the afterlife

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

the second oldest reaper son of two well known reaper families, with a mission and a goal to put down the corrupt government of his city. . . and something way beyond that.

meddling with the gods he does, he loves to *taunt* them, pulling at their strings to get all of their sour sides out — the more gods he can piss off the more he can show just how corrupt they are. he is tired of the injustice they put upon the world, his family — *the people he loves the most*.

working as a librarian at the elritea university library at day while working at the society of shades at night to investigate more on it’s leaders together with his younger brother haitao. the second oldest reaper son of the zhào family is well on his path to becoming a high reaper.

and after he has achieved that goal? well, you’d like to know, wouldn’t you.

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. zhào talisen: older brother, irish twin, from another universe ( verse 781)

𖹭. zhào jìngyì: older brother, irish twin, deceased.

𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother

𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother

𖹭. zhào yizé: younger brother

𖹭. zhào yŭ xī: younger brother/sister/sibling

𖹭. zhào mùchén: deadbeat father

𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother

𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: younger brotherly figure, friend

𖹭. alessio agresta arias: ex-best friend.

𖹭. alessio arias 781: best friend, from another universe ( verse 781)

𖹭. rishen aryielus: rishen’s bullying victim, friend

𖹭. rishen hererra 781: haoyu’s bullying victim, friend, from another universe ( verse 781)

𖹭. shalika vaishya: best friend. . . complicated

𖹭. shimada takara: friend.

𖹭. xú yíngtái: the one fatherly figure in his life

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and a little bit of spanish ( castilian )

𖹭. he knows csl and asl

𖹭. he is an exceptional song writer and musician, he plays bass

𖹭. he writes poetry and is an artist

𖹭. he has a pet bunny named essio

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ tea time — haoyu 9948e ꒱#asterism #terato #teratophillia #grim reaper character #monster character #x reader #reader inster #haoyu 9948e #zhao haoyu 9948e

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filthforfriends · 9 months ago

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HERE YA GO BABES:

“Then what do I need, oh wise one?” At the end of your rope on multiple fronts, you snap at him.

“This,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Come ‘ere.” Damiano first pulls you onto his lap, then lays horizontal. You turn, throwing an arm over his ribcage. He squeezes down firmly and it's hard to imagine that any other comfort could compete with the sensation.

“Thank you. This is…ah,” you sigh. Just as you’re starting to feel grounded, Dami’s face changes completely.

“You’ve been crying. Baby, what happened?” The hand on your mid-back caresses your face instead.

“I – therapy was hard.” He waits for elaboration, but you try to go back to being tucked under his chin.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, if its private –”

“Nothing in my life is private from you,” you huff. “It’s just…this is the only thing that's made me feel not shit all day, to be honest. So can you go back to holding me?” Despite the irritated delivery, Damiano is still gratified. He pulls you snuggly against his chest again. Trying to get closer, you push one leg between his and shimmy out of your button-up top. Dami pulls off his t-shirt in response.

There is something entirely chemical about his bare chest against your face. The feeling was a little gift left over from God’s hand in evolution. Your body screams for more. It screams for closer. It screams please. You lick Dami’s chest then breathe in deep while your taste bud’s process the salt of his skin. He delivers slow, intentional kisses to the top of your head, not the usual pecks. This was something you needed, indisputably, and there was no point pretending that the situation was otherwise. You tilt Damiano’s ribcage closer and catch his nipple in your mouth. He gasps in a rare moment of genuine surprise.

“Y/n, baby, ah.” Very gently, you run your teeth over the mauve pebble and watch the sensation raise goosebumps. The hair is thickest at his sternum, but it's still soft on your lips. As soon as they leave his nipple, Dami arches, pushing the hardened bud back towards your mouth with an almost silent whine. His unshrouded desperation momentarily short-circuits all self-restraint and you’re gripping him too tight.

“Please,” Dami pants, offering his neck. You place languide, wet kisses from collarbone to ear lobe while he gets handsy. He grabs the top of your thigh, palm warm through the thin fabric of your skirt. If Dami gave you something, anything against your cunt, it’d be enough foreplay to take his cock. Or maybe he’d even slip his hand inside your underwear. Just the idea makes you wet enough to squirm.

“I can’t think, touch me,” you whine. His hand trembles and he wears an expression of actual pain.

“How?” he pants, gaze absolutely focused. “Tell me how.” You try to shimmy his hand closer to your waistline. “No, no, no. You can’t go non-verbal on me, I need you to communicate using your words.”

“Okay,” you whisper, finally kissing his mouth. Dami keeps it chaste, then stops altogether. “Wha –”

“Use your words,” he commands forcefully. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I’m verbal, my love.”

“Okay,” he sighs, settling. “Okay, sorry.”

“Mm-mm. Don’t apologize.” Damiano finally relaxes some. He lets his hands wander over your butt and thighs. Eventually, you invite him to be a little adventurous, throwing your shin over his hip and creating the space for him to slip a hand up your skirt. He’s so tentative that you burst into giggles.

“What?” Dami is smiling because you’re smiling.

“I love you.”

“You’re laughing because you love me?”

“I’m laughing because you’re acting like it has teeth.”

“Well I know it doesn’t have teeth for christ’s sake! I can just tell that you’ve had a hard day and –”

“I won’t bite, I promise.” You use the soft, husky voice he’d mentioned a few days ago whilst looking up through your lashes flirtatiously. “Unless you really want me to.” Finally, Damiano rests some of this weight against you, instead of self-consciously positioning so you wouldn’t feel smothered. You respond by insistently pushing your tongue against his lips until he properly engages. Then you shove a hand between your bodies and grab Dami’s cock over his trousers. The look of genuine surprise and fervency he wears is a reminder of how sexually pent up the poor boy must be as well.

“Let me grab some lube.” You mean to playfully nip his neck, but get distracted by how lucious and smooth the skin feels between your teeth. Taking some deep breaths to bring yourself into the present moment, you focus on Dami’s smell. Then release your jaw and kiss up the column of his neck, finding another patch of skin to savor. He starts to sweat as his heart beats faster, skin moistening.

“Are you giving me a hickey?” His voice has climbed in pitch, which is a good sign.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to.”

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

Read the rest here!

After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use.

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn.

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips.

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision.

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum?

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.”

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top. It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms.

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter.

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.”

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh��” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.”

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely.

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely, soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner.

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?”

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!”

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat.

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.”

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.”

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow.

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?”

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective.

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t.

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved.

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself.

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you.

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him.

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up.

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone.

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

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fussymeanie999 · 4 years ago

Text

first time - loki laufeyson x plus-size reader

WARNING: this is going to be around 90% dirty smut. you have been warned. mentions of: cunnilingus, deepthroat, facefucking, unprotected sex, breeding, first time

synopsis: reader feels extremely insecure about her figure, loki finds her being absolutely destroyed, he decides to show her how beautiful she is.

a/n: also, i like used a scene from my mad fat diary for one of the dialogues (another one of my favourite shows), so all creds to them! i also used a monologue called "corsets and courtship" for some of loki's quotes by @tomhiddlestonsoundalike on tumblr so all credz to him and whoever wrote the text!

enjoy, my plussize queens (or whoever's reading this lol)

+++

you stood in front of your mirror, in your undergarments, looking at your own reflexion, your fingers grazing your own skin, cringing at every bump or texture you felt. your skin wasn't as soft as you'd want it to be. it wore many marks, wether from your skin stretching or plain old cellulite. you had some pimples, some scarring... you hated it. all of it. you just wished you were perfect. you weren't skinny, that was for sure. you weren't even mid-size. you were a big girl. and as much as you'd want to pretend you weren't, there were times where that was impossible. you didn't fit in any "regular sizes" and not every store had a plus-size section. you were afraid to eat in front of people. you couldn't even be intimate with your boyfriend.

ah. your boyfriend. your boyfriend's name was loki. and he was probably the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes upon. well, not a man. technically he was an alien. or a god? he came from asgard. a different planet and it honestly baffled you that a literal god would go for someone like you, when he could get anyone he ever wanted. you couldn't believe what you were hearing when he revealed his feelings for you. of course you were hopelessly in love with him but you just couldn't believe he felt the same way. fat girls never get the hot guys. at least not in any story you ever heard, especially not in your life. you never had a boyfriend. no one had really shown any interest in you and you didn't either. mostly because you didn't think anyone would feel the same. you didn't feel as though you deserved to be with anyone, you were too big, too unattractive, too insecure. so you never really tried. until loki came around.

he became part of your life almost a year ago to this day. he was your first kiss, first date, first everything. the only first that was missing was... your first time. yes. you were a virgin. a fat virgin at that. you didn't even let loki see you without a shirt on. the mere thought made you burst into tears, imagining different improbable scenarios where he'd be so disgusted by your figure he'd leave you. but you wanted to. you wanted him to see you and you wanted him to touch you. you wanted him in every sense of the term, but you couldn't bring yourself to reveal your body to him when the time came. he was always understanding, listening to your wishes and never made you feel like you had to do anything you didn't want to do. but you could feel how much it made him ache to not be able to be with you the ways he wanted to. it made you ache as well.

you grabbed at your fat, your jiggly rolls, covered in purple stripes and you couldn't help the tears that threatened to fall, roll down your cheek. your small cries suddenly became sobs, and they became louder and louder, as your brain was flooded with images of loki's face, disgusted in your figure. you let yourself fall onto the bed, feeling your stomach touch your thighs, making your sobs grow even louder. you held your stomach in one of your hands and and the other directed itself on your face, massaging your temple, feeling your heart beat inside your head.

you thought you were alone. you really did.

you heard the door of your bedroom creak. your head immediately jolted up as your glistening eyes met with familiar blue-ish green orbs. you grabbed the nearest blanket and covered your almost naked body, your sobs completely stopping but your tears still melted away on your round cheeks.

your raven-haired lover walked in the room, carefully.

"oh my sweet girl, what has happened?" the god said softly, carefully kneeling in front of you.

he slowly held out his hand to meet yours with confusion, worry and a hint of sadness in his eyes, but you quickly dodged it and got up, covering your entire front side with the blanket and quickly turning around so he couldn't see the back of you.

"nothing" you struggled to say, in between cries, still backing away from him.

you continued walking backwards until your lower back hit the dresser. you looked down, for a few quick seconds and when you looked back up, your lover was only a mere 2 inches away from your face. he cupped your visage with his hands and softly wiped your dried tears with the back of his thumb.

" you know how much i trust you my darling..." he started. " ... but this doesn't look like nothing."

he started slowly stroking your hair and brushing it with his fingers. you tried avoiding his stare but it was useless, as he was grabbing your face and lifted your chin up to make you look at him straight in the eyes.

as his stare felt as though it was piercing through your soul, you couldn't contain your cries anymore.

" be honest with me... i beg of you... it pains me to see you like this" he pleaded.

you started to contain your sobs a bit better, but you still felt so much pain.

" why... why are you with me loki...?" you were able to blurt out.

confusion. confusion was all that was written over his face. he also looked a bit hurt.

his stare started going around the room, trying to find an answer to your question. his hands, that previously were cupping your face, slid down to your throat and rested on your collarbone, his thumb drawing circles over your thyroid.

"what kind of question is that?" he said, annoyance in his voice. you were afraid you made him angry.

"loki... you can have anyone you want, alright? you're a god..." you said, tears still brimming the sides of your eyes.

loki looked at you with so much hurt, it was hard to keep eye contact.

" you're an 11, and i'm a two at best..." you proceeded. "most people, when they see us, out in public, or on social media, they must be thinking; "oh he must be absolutely mad going out with that..." you stopped yourself when you saw loki's facial expression go from hurt to raging.

"that what?" he asked firmly.

you didn't answer.

"THAT WHAT?" he screamed, making you jump.

he put a hand over his mouth, trying to calm himself down.

"how many times do i have to tell you, y/n?" he started. "you are my person. my woman. my everything. you are the most magnificent being my eyes ever laid upon. the most beautiful creature in all of the nine realms. can't you see? can't you? because i can. i see it everyday. i don't have to see you bare to know. never say that to me again, you understand? do you? do you understand?" he said, starting softly and becoming more firm.

his hands were still hanging by your collarbone, but you felt them grip at your skin, desperate for your understanding, for your touch, for you.

"... i" you started. "i d-do..." you stuttered through sniffles.

he looked at you directly in the eyes. you knew he loved you.

'but not enough.' you thought to yourself.

your love carefully placed his lips upon yours. his lips that you were familiar with. lips you kissed thousands of times. lips you loved. lips you longed for. you needed. the kiss he planted was one of the most delicate kisses he'd ever given you, but at the same time, one of the most passionate. it felt like all of the love he felt for you he poured out into you and in that moment, you felt like nothing could come between you two.

"p-please don't leave me, loki..." you cried out after the kiss.

"my love, my love, my love... never. i love you." he reassured you, stroking your hair.

he planted kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, and then back to your lips, this time with more hunger. it was like all of the times he had to restrain himself, when you felt like you weren't ready, completely melted into that kiss. all of his passion, his love, his hunger, his despair, and more importantly his lust, he finally let it all out and you let it all in.

"loki..." you panted in between kisses.

"mmh... yes my love?" he said, intensifying and deepening his kisses more and more.

you hesitated. but you knew. you knew you were ready.

"i-...mmh... i want you." you said, desperation tinting your voice, sounding almost like a plea.

loki slowed down. he took a minute to look at you in the eyes. he wasn't sure what to say. he wasn't even sure what you were saying.

"what?" was all he could muster up to say.

you looked at him with a little more confidence and nodded slowly.

the look on his face was priceless. he would finally be able to be with you.

"a-are you sure about this, love?" he said, sounding like he had just won the lottery.

you nodded again.

he grabbed the sides of your head firmly and leaned in to kiss you once more. his hands trailed down the sides of your body and started playing with the blanket that you were still holding firmly in your hands. you were scared to let go. to be completely bare to him.

"i'm afraid you're gonna have to let this go, my darling." he whispered in you ear, taking the chance to leave a wet kiss on your lobe, slightly biting down on it.

he grabbed your shaking hands in his, drawing circles with his thumb softly against yours.

"give yourself to me, little one... let me see you, touch you, feel you, taste you. i beg... i beg of you." he whispered again, pressing his forehead against yours.

you breathed heavily. you wanted him to see you. to touch you, feel you...

the wall you had built had always seemed so hard to knock down... but in this moment though, that wall seemed to be made of silk. all you had to do was let it go.

"okay..." you said, in the softest voice you ever spoke.

you backed away from loki and walked backwards a few feet. you were now standing the back of your knees faced towards the end of the bed. loki was staring at you proufoundly, awaiting your reveal impatiently.

your hands were trembling. you had nightmares about this moment. you had panic attacks for this moment. this moment was everything. but something about loki... was it the way he stood? the way he spoke? was it his stare? something about him made you feel safe. safer than you had ever felt before tonight.

so you let go.

you felt the blanket reach your toes. you cringed. so you closed your eyes, not wanting to witness loki's disappointment. you awaited any second now a hurl, a disgusted sound or a hurtful comment. but none of that.

you carefully opened your eyes, only to find loki with a gaping mouth, having the most amazing look on his face. a look of pure love, of endless attraction and mesmerising lust.

he approached you slowly, making each of his step count. when he finally reached you, he immediately pressed his forehead against yours. though your eyes were staring down at your feet, you could feel his stare devouring you.

he carefully placed his hand upon yours and let it trail up your arm. then back down again, giving you chills.

he didn't say anything. not a word. what was he thinking?

"i... i look disgusting i know, i'm so sorry. i know i disappoint..." you said, starting to regret the blanket had reached the floor.

you heard loki sigh so heavily.

"you... have got to be joking, love..." were the first words he spoke after seeing your figure. you heard the smile through his voice.

"in all of my..." he started. you heard him swallow before continuing. "in all of my 1056 years of living... never... and i mean never... have i ever witnessed such beauty before this night. my sweet, sweet girl, i simply do not understand why you felt the need to hide."

his hand reached your face and kissed you so passionately, you felt a sort of... heat at the bottom of your stomach. it was an unfamiliar feeling.

that same hand made its way to your neck, then to your shoulder and started playing with one of your bra straps. eventually, he completely took it off and did the same with the other strap.

"you have no idea what you are doing to me right now..." the god said, in a lower, hungrier voice.

"what am i doing to you?" you asked, innocently.

in between kisses, you could feel loki smirk against your lips.

his hand went from your shoulder, trailed down your arm and grabbed your hand in his. he took it and before you knew it he pressed it upon himself. his black, silky, suit pants were showing a bulge in between his legs and that's exactly where he put your hand.

he was hard.

when you first touched it, you heard a whimper come from your lover. god, he needed you.

"this... this is what you are doing to me, darling."

you couldn't believe the words he was saying to you. you felt as though you were in a sort of dream. loki wanted you. he was... quite literally hard for you.

loki grabbed your hair and pulled your head back so you were looking at him. his eyes went extremely dark.

"lay down. on the bed. now." he demanded firmly.

you obeyed his commands in the blink of an eye. you were ready.

you laid down on the bed, on your backside, carefully. when you got comfortable you looked up at loki and saw him looking at you, with hungrier eyes. eyes that were darker and more lustful than ever. he was devouring you with his eyes and he made sure to capture every square inch of skin of your body.

with only a smirk and the flick of a hand on your partner's part, your bra disappeared in a light green magic, leaving your breasts uncovered and nipples starting to harden.

loki obviously couldn't contain himself any longer and almost jumped on top of you, kissing you savagely, making his way down your neck, leaving all sorts of love marks, some darker than others. some of them were painful but the pain only reminded you that this was real. when he got to your breasts, you could almost see his mouth water.

he carefully grabbed one with his hand, keeping eye contact with you the whole time.

"so soft, so plump... for me. oh god, sweetheart you're giving me such a delight"

and with no warning he started giving you small licks, around your nipple, carefully approaching your most sensitive part, which he enthusiastically started to flick with his tongue. the sudden pleasure rose your voice as you let out a small whimper, begging for more.

"yes... yes my sweet girl... let it out... show me how much you want this" he said in a raspier voice.

you found your fingers playing with his raven-black locks, as his mouth played with your brown-ish pink buttons.

he did so for some while, until he felt your hand grasp at his vest. you wanted him to reveal himself to you as well. he got the message pretty quickly.

he looked up from his meal, giving you the same amount of eye contact, as he took off his black blazer, black tie and black vest. all he had on were his bottoms but you were too worried about his beautiful torso to notice. you let your hands wonder on his pale chest, feeling the softness of his skin, some of his hair, up to his pecs, you couldn't believe it. how can this man become even more beautiful?

"like the view, my love?" he asked. you enthusiastically nodded.

he bent down to leave more love bites over your torso and your breasts. he started to slowly go down your body leaving kisses under your breast, going even nearer to the most insecure part of your body. you cringed and whimpered again, but this time in a less of a pleasurable manner, remembering all of your stretch marks and cellulite, knowing he'll be disappointed.

"i... couldn't... be... more... in... love..." he breathed out between his wet kisses. he was now definitely directly on your tummy.

he looked up, knowing you wouldn't like this part. he met your eyes and definitely noticed your hesitation.

he got back up, towering over you. he bent back down, catching your lips in his.

he carefully started stroking your hair, in the most loving manner you could ever imagine. he looked at you straight in the eyes, seeming like he was trying to deliver a message directly to your soul.

"what have i done to deserve you?" he asked, his voice choking in between his words.

those words completely melted your aching heart.

it was your turn to touch him. you said nothing as you slowly stroked his cheek with the back of your hand, giving him your approval by a shake of the head.

he smiled and his head disappeared to your stomach again.

you could feel his hands rome around your entire body and his mouth leaving wet kisses over your stomach. his long raven hair still trailed around higher up on your torso, nearer to your breasts.

he finally got to the place his own body longed for the most.

at this point you were completely damp and you awaited his reaction to your wetness impatiently.

he quickly gave you one of the hungrier and most impatient look you'd ever seen him give you.

he got up in front of the bed, looking you up and down like a predator looks at its prey and with the flick of hand, yet again, loki made your panties disappear in a light shimmering green magic, leaving you completely bare. all that was covering you up were your legs, still pressed firmly together.

loki carefully placed his hands over your bare knees. he could feel you trembling. was it from excitement? nervousness? or desire?

"open up for me, my love... let me in" he said in a demanding, pleading voice.

you slowly started to comply and let your legs go loose. your lover took it upon himself and slowly spread your thighs apart. he couldn't believe his eyes.

he was letting himself finally see your aching core. he could see it glistening, it was calling to him, begging for his touch. he was the one the one responsible and he'd never felt prouder. he admired every fold, every forgotten hair you missed while shaving, everything about it was inviting.

"oh my sweet sweet girl... look at the state of you. don't you understand how long i've been waiting? to see you in this position, completely at my mercy, legs spread, only for me..."

he gulped and whimpered at the sight of you, as you spread you legs even further. he could feel the tightness in his pants become almost unbearable. he'd never been this aroused before in his entire life. but first, he needed a taste of you.

he slowly started leaving wet kisses over your thighs, getting closer and closer to your velvet folds. his hands traveled your entire body. your body, that felt as though it had been set on fire. he once again cupped one of your breasts and started flicking your nipples with his fingertips. you let yet another whimper escape your lips, needing him more than you've ever needed anyone.

you felt his hot breath against your wet love box and that was all it took to make you go insane.

"p-please..." you pleaded to the god.

he took your scent in, smelling the most mouth-watering aroma he ever got the chance to smell in all of his 1000 years.

"you don't have to ask me twice, my sweetness..." were his last words before delving in.

he placed his fingers upon your aching core, exploring all of your folds, he couldn't believe how wet you were.

"darling... you are dripping..."

he let his fingers trail for a few seconds, until they reached your entrance. he circled it with the tip of his finger as he finally placed his lips right on top of your sensitive button.

the sudden, unfamiliar sense of pleasure, completely took you by surprise as you yelped.

his tongue peaked through after a few kisses planted on your clitoris. it circled in the same motions his finger was making to your entrance. he was so soft, so cautious. but you could feel the heat in the bottom of your stomach growing darker, more demanding so you placed you hands on the top of your lover's head, brushing your fingers through his hair and slightly pushing his head down on your core.

loki got the message, as his circles became more passionate and as he started flicking his tongue aggressively at your core.

you felt your entire body tremble in desire as loki's finger plunged itself in between your folds, exploring your insides.

you were now moaning deliberately, wanting him to add digits. you thought you'd be more resistant, you thought it'd be a little painful, even but all you could feel was pleasure.

"more..." you pleaded.

as the words were still hanging from your lips, loki plunged yet another finger in, and this time, you did feel a little resistance but you didn't care. you wanted him. you wanted him so much.

his tongue was working wonders on your clit. you would think the man hadn't eaten in days at the sight of him. he was completely devouring you and you could feel the pleasure build up inside of you.

the mixture of his fingers pumping in and out of you, and his tongue flicking at your sensitive button, all of it was too much for you to handle. you felt something was coming.

"loki... l-loki... something... something's happening." you panted, in between moans.

he didn't stop. he knew what he was doing. he went harder, his tongue completely destroying you.

"i can feel it as well... your heat... your wetness... let yourself come undone, my sweet... for me" he whispered, panting, in between licks.

'come undone?' you thought. but before you knew it, you felt it. the highest peak of pleasure your body had ever felt in its life. you felt your thighs squeeze around the god's head, squashing him a little. you didn't want to hurt him but you couldn't contain yourself, as you screamed his name, not believing that amount of pleasure was even possible. it was electrifying. your whole body reacted, you were sweating. you put your hand over your mouth and bit down your finger to stop yourself from becoming a screaming mess, but it was already too late, as you rode your orgasm out to the last bit of pleasure you could conquer up.

"you taste even sweeter than i thought you would, sweet girl" he said, giving the nickname a whole different meaning.

you let out a huge sigh, slowly coming back to your senses. you looked up as loki got up from between your legs, his hand still caressing your folds slowly and placed a delicate kiss on your lips. you tasted what you thought was yourself. oddly enough, you didn't cringe, you hadn't found yourself to taste disgusting. it was... kind of erotic actually.

"loki i..." you started. you didn't know how to ask. "i want to..." you sighed out.

"say it, darling" he said, stroking your hair, still caressing in between your legs.

"i want to taste you... too" you finally let out.

you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. you wanted to thank him in a way.

he was surprised. he didn't think you were ready.

"you made me feel so good today... i want to reciprocate the feeling... y'know..." you said, shyly.

loki's hand pulled at your hair to make you look at him.

"is that what you want?" he asked, firmly. he grabbed your hand and slowly pressed it yet again on his throbbing member, through his tightening pants.

he sighed heavily, still looking at you straight in the eyes.

you nodded, slowly. he smirked.

"then, get on your knees."

you obeyed.

you liked how he commanded you and guided you through all of your movements. you were nervous he wasn't going to enjoy, but the anticipated look on his face told you otherwise. also, the throbbing length in his pants.

you were now on your knees, on the floor, at the end of the bed and loki was sitting, his still clothed legs spread, inviting you in.

you started to slowly stroke his thigh, rubbing your hand up and down, each time getting closer to his private. you did the same thing with his other thigh, feeling the god getting impatient with your teasing.

you finally placed your hand over his member, giving it a small squeeze. you heard your lover grunt, at only your touch.

"you're eager" you stated, looking up at him. he gave you a smirk.

"less talking." he said, darkly.

you complied, massaging his bulge through his pants.

when you finally unzipped them, you heard your lover let out a sigh of relief. you wanted to bring them down to his ankles, but loki, being impatient, made them disappear in his green magic.

"hey. let me work." you said, in more of a joking way.

"i said... less talking" he repeated.

you noticed a small wet spot on his grey boxers. you bent down, without touching it, smelling it.

you felt the god squirm under you, eager to feel you around him.

you carefully, and slowly took his boxers down, letting his member spring free of its shackles, finally revealing itself to you.

he was huge. it was veiny, its tip was a dark pink, almost red, it was pale like the rest of his body. but most importantly, it was enormous.

"like the view, my love?" he asked for the second time that night.

you nodded your head enthusiastically. all you wanted was to get a taste.

you carefully approached your hand to the hot spot. the second your fingers reached his skin, loki whimpered. it was burning up, but it was so soft. you felt the veins under your fingertips, and suddenly it was like you knew exactly what to do. you carefully started stroking him and ran your thumb over the most sensitive part of his shaft, his frenulum, and heard him whimper once again.

"please" he pleaded, imitating your pleas from earlier.

"you don't have to tell me twice" you imitated as well.

you approched his tip to your lips and delicately gave him a soft kiss. his skin was so warm.

you continued giving him small pecks but you felt him get, yet again, impatient with your teasing.

"oh come on..." he pleaded.

you looked at him. sweat was dripping down his forehead.

you then flipped his cock over, back to his stomach to give yourself full access to the base of his member. you placed your tongue directly in between his balls and shaft and worked your way up to his tip, making sure you passed by his sensitive junction between his red bulb and the rest of his penis. directly after, you put his tip in your mouth and started bobbing your head back and forth, tasting the drops of pre-cum he deposited on your tongue.

you heard him moan, some cusses flew out of his mouth, he moaned mainly your name, or called you by all sorts of nicknames.

"oh my, oh my... you're doing so good... mmh... g-good girl..." he moaned out.

his words were able to bring back that heat at the bottom of your stomach. you slowly directed your hand in between your thighs and started stroking your own bundle of nerves. loki didn't seem to notice, too lost in the waves of pleasure you were giving him.

he was now moaning deliberately. he tried... he really tried, but he couldn't contain himself anymore, he grabbed your head, pulled you by your hair and pushed your head down to take more of his shaft. you awaited a gag or any sort of resistance on your part, really, but nothing came.

loki got up from where he was sitting, your head still enveloping his shaft and started moving back and forth, you being completely at his mercy. he was deliberately fucking your face, and you let him.

he moaned your name so many times you'd lost count. he became more and more agressive with each thrust until all of his shaft was buried down your throat. he held your head down for a few seconds, gripping at your hair, letting his cock sit in your mouth, until he finally pulled out, a strand of saliva escaping your lips. he was out of breath, but not as much as you.

"you feel so good, my love. you're doing amazing" he said, panting.

you gave him a few kitten licks, asking for more. he buried his cock again down your throat, pumping in and out. he was fucking your face as though it was a cunt, using your throat as a mere hole that was made to mold his shaft perfectly.

you weren't gagging which surprised you. you'd never tested your gag reflex, but obviously you didn't have any.

you felt him go faster and faster until he once again, suddenly stopped as your head was completely enveloping his shaft. but this time, he started grunting and moaning, louder, in more of an animalistic way, holding your head down, hard, as deep as he could go.

"i- i'm cumming, love" he grunted out.

suddenly, you could taste bitterness, saltiness explode in your mouth, and run down your throat. your first instinct was to spit it out, but your god kept your head in place, making you swallow. it felt never ending. he kept cumming and cumming. you thought the taste would repulse you, from what you had heard from friends and the internet, but you honestly didn't find it to be that disgusting.

he stayed in that same position, holding your head in place, for another ten to fifteen seconds after he came. you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and he finally removed himself.

you took a deep breath, considering you could finally breathe properly.

loki knelt down to your level. he looked at your face. fortunately, you weren't wearing makeup, so no makeup to ruin. your eyes were red, tears had run down your face, you had spit all over the sides of your face, and some of loki's cum had fallen out of the corners of your mouth. he wiped it with his thumb and took it up to your mouth.

you sucked his thumb dry, tasting him yet again.

he gave you a loving smile.

"mine." he simply said, in a soft manner.

he then kissed you in the most loving way he could, tasting himself on your lips.

he then backed away, looking you up and down, noticing your hand still wondering around in between your thighs. he smirked and locked eyes with you.

"i think we're gonna have to take care of that." he said, as he got up. he was now standing up while you were still on your knees. you noticed his cock was hard again, once it got to your eye level. how was that even possible? how could he be hard again this quick? you had to remind yourself he did have the stamina of a god. he handed you his hand for you to take, which you did.

he got you up and carefully placed his hands on the sides of your head and started stroking your hair.

"are you still sure you want to do this my love?" he asked.

you chuckled.

"after what we've done? i'm pretty sure there's no backing up now?"

he gave you a confused look.

"of course there is. i'm not gonna do anything you're not comfortable doing, sweetheart." he said.

you sighed at your poor choice of words.

"and i know that." you started. "but i'm ready. i want you... loki."

he smiled yet again. he didn't say a word. he just kissed you. it was a passionate kiss, like all of your others that night. his hands roamed around your body as if it was discovering it again for the first time.

taking you by surprise, he lifted you up, flipped you around and threw you on the bed. never had you been picked up before. you always thought you'd break the person's spine. but loki lifted you up so easily, you felt like a feather.

"you're mine" the god grunted, as he plunged on top of you. he spread your legs open, as far as he could and positioned himself right between them.

he reached down to your bundle of nerves and drew circles with his fingers like he did earlier. he wound up plunging his fingers inside you yet again, prepping you for what was about to replace them. you could feel his length harden even more against your thigh, as he did so.

you started whimpering, wanting more than just his digits to fill you.

your whimpers were like music to loki's ears. he loved hearing how much you longed for him. he loved seeing you squirm under him. he enjoyed feeling all powerful, having that much control over you.

"take me" you sighed out, looking at your lover straight in the eyes. you couldn't hold it in anymore. you needed him. you needed him inside you. now.

he smirked as he bent down, to leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

"tell me when you want to stop, my darling. use your words." he asked of you.

you nodded, agreeing to his words, whilst trying to spread your legs even further.

his fingers left your core, leaving you needy and wanting to feel him once more, but they were quickly replaced by what you knew was his tip. he started slowly moving back in forth in between your folds, teasing at your entrance.

he gave you a look, pleading for approval.

you slowly nodded, ready to take him in.

you felt his his bulb starting to peak inside of you. you winced, feeling a slight resistance.

he stopped. but you nodded again, asking for him to continue.

as he buried his shaft deeper in you, it started to really hurt. for real this time.

"ow, ow. stop." you asked. "but stay inside. just stay... stay like this. let me- let me adjust."

he listened to you.

"are you okay, my love?" he asked, still halfway inside of you.

you nodded again, breathing heavily. you knew you could do it. you wanted to.

"p-... proceed." you said.

he listened to you again, burying himself entirely in you. he let out a loud grunt. your walls had adjusted to the size of his member and it felt less painful.

your lover moaned again.

"you.. are so tight, oh my. you feel so good." he panted.

you smiled. you loved seeing him in this much pleasure. you loved the passionate, lustful look on his face, all of it was for you.

he started moving back and forth, slowly, being really careful of each and every one of your movements, analyzing if you wanted to continue or not.

the first few thrusts were painful but eventually the pain left and absolute ecstasy took its place.

loki noticed the change in you and decided to give his thrusts more power, barely able to contain himself. he pumped in and out of your aching core at a medium rate. he wanted to go faster, harder but he stayed careful.

but you... you wanted more. you started clawing at loki's back, bringing him closer to you and leaving red scratches all over his back. you kissed his neck, his torso, leaving him the same bruises he left you earlier, though yours weren't as agressive as his. yours were small, red, but his eventually became huge purple bruises. and you had them all over your body. he started leaving you some more, on your neck, your collarbone, imitating your movements.

"more..." you pleaded.

he smirked against your skin, left you yet another passionate kiss on your lips and with that, his thrusts became harder, more agressive, much faster. you felt as if he was trying to crawl inside of you.

you both started moaning and screaming each other's names at the top of your lungs. your lover got up, detaching his torso from yours, trying to find an angle where he could go deeper inside of you. you wanted him back, missing the heat of his body. you reached out to him with your arm, but he firmly grabbed it, stopping you in your tracks. you were surprised. he looked down at you, staring at you straight in the eyes. his eyes went dark. his hand that had stopped your movement, trailed up from your hand, to you elbow and up your arm, until it reached the crook between your shoulder and your neck. his thumb drew circles over your cheek, then your chin and finally on your throat. you didn't even have the time to realise but his hand had completely wrapped itself around your throat, choking you slightly. you could still breathe completely fine, but his hand held your head in space, as his thrusts became even harder, if that was even possible.

he started panting, completely losing himself in the moment.

he bent down again, still holding your throat in his hand. he grabbed you and forced your face to be centimetres from his.

"mine." he said in a deep, grunting voice.

that word was the one that completely sent you over the edge. you could feel your walls clench around his member, your were close. you needed your release.

"loki... i'm close." you tried sighing out.

he understood you perfectly. the hand he wasn't using to choke you found its way down between your legs and started playing agressively at your clit.

"let go, baby... let go" he panted.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you let your orgasm take control of your entire body. your legs were shaking, your hips started grinding against loki's, your hands scratched at his back even deeper, your eyes were rolling back inside your head, and your mouth gaped wide open, letting all sorts of cusses fly out of your mouth.

as you rode out your orgasm, you knew loki was close as well. seeing you in this intense state, all because of him, sent him over the edge and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.

you started grinding your hips even more agressively, trying to meet his.

"come on, baby..." you whispered in his ear, leaving all sorts of wet kisses and hickey's all over his body.

you ran your finger through his curls, pulling at his hair.

and that's when you knew. you felt his hand grasped at your throat even tighter, making you gasp for air. he stopped moving, buried deep inside of you.

"oh my fu..." he started, moaning loudly.

you had made some research about how it would be like to have someone cum inside of you. you found out most people couldn't feel it. but you did. you felt all of it. you felt a warmth completely invade your insides, it kept coming and coming, just like earlier but this time inside of you.

loki's hand was still wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly, but as his orgasm ended, he eventually loosened his grasp.

when he finally stopped coming, as he was still buried inside you, he finally looked up at you and left a wet kiss your lips.

"i love you" he said, out of breath.

"i love you too."

loki looked down and smirked, taking his hand off your throat.

"no... don't say it like that... don't say "too"... it sounds like you're just agreeing with me. say it for real..."

you scoffed a little, thinking his request to be a little ridiculous. but you understood. you ran your fingers through his raven locks, held his head between both your hands, making him look at you.

"i love you, loki... i love you." you said softly, staring into his ocean blue eyes.

he gave you a wide smile and kissed you once more. he gave you a kiss full of love and passion.

after your kiss, he slowly pulled out of you. you felt so full, a second ago, the absence of his shaft between your legs contrasted so much with the empiness you now felt.

loki bent down again between your thighs to watch his seed run out of you. it felt yet again, never ending, but loki watched attentively.

"what a beautiful sight... may i snap a picture?" he said, jokingly.

"shut up..." you said in the same tone.

he gave you one last lick to your core and licked his lips, not minding his cum, plastered over your folds.

"i'll get a towel..." he said, leaving one last peck on your lips.

"thank you, honey..." you thanked him softly.

as you layed, completely naked on your bed, you thought.

you no longer felt restrained in your own skin, not around him at least. he made you feel seen, loved, desirable. you hated your body a little bit less, now. you might even try eating in front of people! maybe... you and loki didn't just have sex that night. you made love. he didn't just take your virginity, he made you into a better, improved version of yourself.

you were never more in love with him than in that moment.

loki came back with a light pink towel. he rose your hips up in the air and deposited it under you. he used the other end of the towel to wipe his seed off you.

once you were clean, loki got back off the bed and put the towel back in the bathroom.

he joined you in bed and wrapped his arms around you.

you felt so good. better than you had in years. with him. you felt so loved.

you didn't want to move, but you remembered you had to pee after a sexual intercourse... you read it in a blog.

you nudged loki, trying to get off the bed, but loki held you back, making it impossible for you to move.

"don't... even think about it." he said firmly under his breath.

you chuckled.

"i'm gonna get a urinary tract infection... and it's gonna be on you." you said in an accusing manner.

"darling, i'm a god... i have super powers, you're not gonna get a... whatever sort of infection you're talking about."

you scoffed, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck, sighing heavily.

loki left a loving kiss on the top of your head and held you tighter.

"you're mine... all mine."

+++

word count: 7395.... comment if you liked it loveys!! what was your favourite part?

#loki smut #loki laufeyson #plus size #plus size reader #marvel #tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki x plus-size reader #smut

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Text

On the Coffee Table - It’s Not Entirely Comfortable (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFT, creampie, rough sex, degrading, slight praise, “daddy”, “good girl”, marking - like, biting and love bites, jealous/possessive sex, squirting, slight blood? Nothing major though, also there’s three tongues in here and once again, a knotted dick/knotting. If you are a minor, DNI]

[AN: I started this at 2 am trying to finish it after downing some melatonin and only finished it now. Please tell me if I translated wrong!! I unfortunately only speak English. Doja Cat - Freak. This is 5.3K words.]

Part 1 Part 2

Jack trusts you so, so much. That much is apparent. It’s been about a month or so since he took you away from your old life, and you’ve never been happier. In fact, it’s been nothing but good things!

Why do you say that? Jack is so sweet, caring, and attentive. He knows what you want when you need it, and still, you’ve only ever kissed him.

In a sense, it’s maddening, but at the same time, it’s kinda cute. You like that he’s willing to go at your pace, and you like that he’s so mindful of how you’re feeling at any and every moment. You’re just really, really happy he chose you.

When that man from the grocery store came up to you, trying to speak to you… Well, you thought he just wanted some help! Honest to goodness, you had no idea what he was trying to do. Which is quite odd, considering you’ve been considered a goddess in your own right figuring those tells from miles and continents away.

You stood at the cart, waiting patiently for Jack to come back from the other side of the grocery story because something you’d wanted slipped his mind. So, you familiarized yourself with the fresh produce instead, looking over the pretty colors before that cute little shower system kicked on paired with the little rain noises as they gave water to the vegetables.

You were honestly minding your own business when some man came up to you, a shy smile on his face.

“Uh, hello, ma’am?” He started, a pack of berries in his hand.

You whip around and turn your attention to him, putting down the leaks as you did so. “Yes?”

“Do you know how this is pronounced?” He said. “Is it… A-kai..?”

You motioned for him to come a little closer - close enough for your shoulders to brush up against each other. Your eyes scanned over the words. “Oh! It’s açaí ,” you giggled as you read over the words.

“A-sigh?”

“Açaí,” you repeated with a small smile. “See? Say it with me,” you said, as you watched the man’s face light up.

“Oh, okay, açaí,” he finally said correctly, that same smile bloomed on his face. “Y’know, you’re really good at this,” he smiled.

You lit up. “Thank you!” Beaming, you gave him your full attention.

“It’s nothing, did you take Spanish?” He inquired, still maintaining his close distance to you.

You nodded vigorously. “I took four years of Spanish in high school. Señora Chika always said I had an ear for language,” you said in a semi-serious tone, index finger tapping your right ear lobe in a way that made that man blush.

The man smiled back. “That’s so nice to hear,” he continued, building off your words. “Look, I’m gonna be going to Mexico pretty soon, it’s a work thing,” he brushed off, “and I wanna know if I could get some of your tutoring services?”

You blinked a few times. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I think you would make an excellent-”

“An excellent what?” Jack’s clipped voice cut through, his glamour’s eyes glaring deeply at the man who dares breathing in the same air as you. When he saw the man pause, he waved his hand a bit as if to signal him to hurry it up. “She’d make an excellent what?”

“It’s… It’s nothing,” he mumbled before brushing past you and Jack. “Didn’t know she had a boyfriend, sorry,” he harshly apologized as he disappeared back into the aisles.

You tilted your head as you looked up at Jack. “What about his Spanish lessons?”

Jack sighed in deeply and took hold of the cart, tossing the thing you asked for back into it. “Él no quería clases de español.”

Your eyes widened in response. “Oh.”

Jack was silent to you the entire car ride back home, and you wondered if it was because that man came up to talk with you. You frowned in the seat. You honestly didn’t know that man’s intentions! You didn’t mean to push Jack’s buttons like that, in fact, you didn’t even know that man was flirting with you! He came up asking about pronunciation, not a number!

You pouted all the way until you made it back home, helping him bring the groceries back in as you did so.

“Put this one in the freezer,” he said as that frown continually pulled his lips downwards.

When you opened the fridge, he tsked his tongue.

“The freezer.”

You relented and did as he asked. Once it was in, he nodded at the now empty bags and began balling them up to throw away, maybe reuse and put in the bag drawer before leaving you to yourself.

And that’s how the rest of the day went. Jack looked like such a stick in the mud and you couldn’t stand it. What was eating him up so much?

You decide to confront him after dinner when the two of you are sitting on the sofa, watching some stupid program you don’t really care for. You just know you like being near him.

“Why are you being such a jerk?” You ask out of the blue as the program moves to commercials.

Jack visibly tenses before he relaxes again, raising his eyebrow. “Excuse me?” He deadpans, almost surprised you have the gall to speak to him in such a manner.

You huff and cross your arms over your chest as you turn fully towards him, brows furrowed and face cross with frustration over his behavior. “You heard me the first time,” you reply. When you watch his expression turn from vague amusement to slight anger, you backtrack. “I just - why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, your eyes dark and stormy. “What on the gods green earth could I have done to offend you so greatly?” You huff, arms still crossed and face determined.

Jack lowers his eyebrows and reclines back, trying to give you the illusion that he’s not interested in your challenge. “You wanna rethink that tone?” He hums. “You’re messing with fire.” There’s a slight tease that laces his words and you catch it ever so slightly.

You’ve heard that tease before. “Maybe… Maybe I wanna feel the heat,” you murmur, voice dipping to something low and sultry. You uncross your arms on your chest and move your hands over to his lap.

Jack watches you carefully as he feels your index and middle fingers walk up his thigh and to his chest. “You’re gonna get burned.” His voice is so much lower and more alluring than whatever he was showing to you before.

Your eyes sparkle as your fingertips walk up to the neck of his hoodie, hooking in it and pulling slightly as if you’re asking him to take it off. “Maybe you’ll just have to kiss it better,” you mumble, bringing your lips closer and closer to his.

Jack doesn’t move and instead, allows you to lean in further and further. He’s got a budding smirk on his lips as you draw closer, his dark sockets watching you with intrigue.

You finally press your lips to his, eyes closing as he invites you further and further into him. You smile through the kiss, and giggle when his hands hook around your waist and sling you onto his lap, your thighs now resting on either side of him, bottom planted firmly on his thighs.

“You’ve been such a bad girl,” he mutters through the kiss as you move more fervently against his lips, his clawed fingertips now digging into the curve of your ass.

“Have I?” You breathe against him before smashing your lips back onto his, your heart rate already picking up and drumming wildly in your chest. You feel it’s harder and harder to breathe as he practically crushes you against his chest.

“You have,” he reaffirms, briefly disconnecting from you. “And that means you’re going to get punished for it.”

You practically squeal in delight as Jack’s sharp claws dig into the hem of your shirt and travel upwards, cutting through the fabric like it’s nothing. The torn fabric drops from beside you like it’s weightless, leaving you just shy of being exposed.

“You want me to break this too?” He hums, his fingers lightly feathering up your back to the clasp on your bra.

“I don’t care,” you giggle, leaning into his warmth.

Jack hums again and decides on unclipping it, briefly cooing in amusement as you lean back on his lap and slip the thing off before tossing it over your shoulder. He whistles deeply as he gazes at your chest. One of his hands plants back down on the curve of your ass before sliding back up to cup your chest, his large hands practically engulfing your breasts in their entirety.

You giggle once more and move your hand upwards to rest on top of his, gripping him gently and pushing him just a bit harder as he fondles you. You feel a rush of excitement every time his claws just barely ghost your nipples.

“No,” he suddenly says, his hand leaving your bottom half to pry you off of him. “You don’t have a right to touch me tonight,” he states as if it was nothing. He gestures to your hands. “Keep them on your thighs or on the back of the couch,” he commands, watching as you pout and settle on gripping your thighs. He smiles devilishly at you. “Good girl.”

You break your pout for a moment before he squeezes your breast, making heat rise to your face. The warmth that he gives off is almost intoxicating. You’re almost lost in it when he suddenly leaves, picking you up and off his lap, almost roughly placing you onto the far end of the sofa. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes as his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants.

He hesitates.

“Well?” You egg him on. “What are you waiting for?”

And just like that, Jack is tearing your pants off, his claws slicing through the material like it’s nothing. You watch as he towers over you, snaking in between your legs as he pries them open. Jack’s face goes dark as he cuts off your underwear, his clawed fingers tracing your already glistening cunt.

Your mind goes blank when you catch him smirking and three long, thick, inky black tongues slip from his mouth, twirling and twisting against each other like snakes as they creep over each other, dripping with clear saliva. The tip of the longest tongue - which you recognize as the middle one - slinks forward and broadly licks you from top to bottom, making your thighs tense on instinct. Then, it takes a few more teasing licks, mostly building you up, wondering to see if you’re getting impatient, testy.

“EJ-” you barely wisp out before the middle tongue finally slips in past your already puffy lips, slowly, dragging against your walls lightly moving back and forth as it slips deeper and deeper in.

You let out a ragged moan at the sudden contact, thighs tensing once more. This action garners Jack’s attention and his arms maneuver under your slightly propped up legs, his claws digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to remind you of your place. You bite your lip in pure ecstasy as his middle tongue wiggles inside of you, thrusting light as it does so, his second tongue lathering your lips up in his saliva and applying delicious pressure to you. His third tongue begins to prod your pearl, and when it finally touches, you hiss in the contact.

You honestly didn’t realize just how warm he was. It gently circles your clit before taking slow, languid kitten licks, working you up to little circles that render his hands free to keep you from bucking him. Your wandering hands, which you had been gripping in vain on the cushions of the couch for support, feel useless under your iron grip. On instinct, your hands fly down to Jack’s head, wanting to push his face in deeper but he pauses.

His middle tongue stops twisting and curling inside of you, it’s no longer hitting that spot that has you seeing stars and his other tongues have retracted entirely.

You pout. “You’re such a meanie!” You exclaim as you throw your head back down onto the arm of the couch.

He shoots you a look as his tongue begins to retreat from your pussy, almost as if he’s asking if you want to rethink that statement.

You feel a heat rush to your cheeks.

He gives you that look again, eyebrows lowering and lids halving. There’s a faint smirk on his lips as he seemingly gestures to your hands, telling you to keep them to yourself. Jack is telling you that you aren’t allowed to touch him right now.

You glance away before he hums against your aching cunt, his tongue retreating from you just a little faster. You relent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.

His brow raises. ‘What else?’

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you finally say before cutting yourself off with a loud gasp as Jack’s tongues are once again on the assault. His middle tongue is fucking your pussy with a heat you didn’t know possible, and you can barely even think as he rubs and sucks at your clit with his others. You feel his lips lightly graze you every now and then, his shark-like teeth coming dangerously close to nipping you but you don’t care.

In frustration, you ball your hands in fists and throw your arms over your head, struggling in vain to not touch yourself or Jack as he works you closer and closer to the edge. Your pussy feels like an ocean by how hard he’s working you, and the sounds that come out of your mouth are just downright sinful.

Jack’s thumb rubs small circles on your thighs, almost as if he’s complimenting you for not touching him before he works you closer and closer to the edge.

You clamp your eyes shut and arch your back as he removes his second tongue from your lips and wiggles it in with a powerful thrust from his middle tongue, the two intertwining and combining, bringing a new sensation to your overloaded cunt. Sweat beads all over your body as he thrusts a bit harder and flexes, the sudden thickness making your stomach and heart flutter.

His third tongue remains playing with your clit, circling and licking.

You can practically hear Jack goading you to cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, your thighs threatneing to clamp shut but Jack’s strong grasp holding you wide open and accessible for him. “Fuck!” You cry out again, back arching once more, hands balling so hard into fists you feel like they’re going to fall off and a raw cry of ecstasy pouring from your lips as you release onto his face, coating his tongues and face in nectar.

The white hot pleasure continues to bead and wash over you as his tongues begin to clean you up, the middle still refusing to leave your creamy cunt. It makes you tense, and that gets a soft chuckle rumbling from the back of Jack’s throat.

After he was sure he slurps you clean, Jack slowly, almost teasingly, removes his tongues from your cunt and then licks his lips like the bastard he is. He looks so smug. “That wasn’t very fast,” he notes as his lips begin to press kisses to your slightly bruised thighs, his teeth gracing your flesh every now and then.

You pout as you begin to sit up on shaky legs, body feeling like jell-o. “Give me a chance,” you challenge.

Jack raises a brow before dropping it, his face leaving from in between your legs and drawing closer and closer to yours. “I don’t think whores should get chances.”

You immediately bristle and smash your lips to his, hands angrily grabbing at his still clothed form, almost goading him to take it off. You hide your squeal of delight as he kisses you back just as fervently, his large hand groping aimlessly for yours.

Jack grabs your wrist and brings you down to his pants, allowing you to rub the large bulge that’s grown as he ate your pussy.

You stifle your giggle and unzip hi, after you worked on his belt - it��s not like this is the first time you’ve done something like this - but when you reach in and feel for him, your eyebrows raise slightly.

Jack feels you pause and laughs, effectively breaking the kiss. He pulls away from you to look at your face. “Go ahead. Take it out.”

Gently, your hands peel back his pants as he makes minimal movement to help get them off and easier for you and you are greeted to an absolute monster. He’s not even rock solid but you can tell he’s huge. Interestingly enough, there’s also piercings in it - you recognize the ones on the length of his cock as ladder piercings followed by a ring at his tip. Your face rushes with heat when you see he’s got a thick knot as well, already waiting to fill you up.

“Not what you’re used to?” He teases, his legs open as he rests back on the couch, waiting for you to touch him.

Your fingers gently trail and crawl up his muscular thighs before you wrap your fingers around him, taking note of the texture on his cock. It wasn’t anything like a human man’s, and that made you excited. That same coiling white hot heat began to pool in your lower stomach as you slowly began to pump him.

“Spit on it,” he states in passing.

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, lips pursing as you thickly spit onto his head. Your thumb sneaks it over his dark dock that fades almost beautifully into his actual skin tone - you take notice of the silver specks that look like stars - and begin to grip him just a bit harder. You watch Jack’s expressions for anything of approval or disdain when you realize he’s not going to give you any satisfaction. You’ve been a bad girl. Of course he’s going to make you work for it.

“Use your mouth,” he then cuts through. “If you even think about using your hands, I’ll bite you.” He’s only half teasing. He absolutely would draw blood on your pretty flesh. His large, clawed hand that was gripping the back of the couch slinks upwards and over and buries itself onto your scalp, both soothingly and roughly guiding you down to his precum covered tip.

You open your mouth as wide as you can, mouth salivating as you finally taste him and the metal that decorates him. You’re so careful as he begins to pump your head on him, tongue flatly covering him in your spit as the head of his cock gets closer and closer to hitting the back of your throat. You struggle to breathe through your nose as he pushes you down harder and harder.

Jack hums out deeply as you suck him, your tongue swirling when he finally brings you back up. He switches hands eventually, the hand that had been holding your head now with its fingers trailing down your bare back as he cups the curve of your ass.

‘What on earth is he doing-!’ You moan against him as he twitches in the back of your throat as his ring finger and thumb slowly pull your lips apart just enough for his index and middle finger to slip in, filling you - but not to your limit. You squeeze your legs together and feel slick once again leak down your thighs as he finger fucks you while you still struggle to breathe on his cock as he pushes you down rougher and rougher.

In a way, you become his toy as his fingers make quick work of you. Your mind is lost in a lustful haze and you don’t even recognize he’s practically pulled your mouth off his cock as his fingers thrust into you harder, his nails so close to cutting you but instead, curling upwards in the best ways. Your face rests pathetically on his lap, your ass in the air as he trades his ring finger for his pinky and slips it into your needy, aching cunt.

“What a slut,” he whistles as you breathe raggedly against him. “I haven’t even fucked you properly and you’re rocking against me like a bitch in heat,” he cruelly observes, stifling his amusement at how you buck back in tandem with him. “Would you have treated that man in the store like this?” He asks, his voice dipping down to something sinister.

Your mind peers through the fog and you weakly shake your head as his fingers continue to fuck you. “Of course not,” you manage to squeak out. “N-Never, no one could make me feel like this,” you breathe out before squeezing your eyes shut, clamming your legs even tighter together to attempt to give your swollen clit some pleasure.

“You’re lying,” he states in a sing-song tone, his fingers roughly thrusting into you, curling upwards and rubbing you intimately, making you see stars. “Liars don’t deserve to cum,” and just like that, he’s pulling his long, thick fingers from your greedy cunt.

You gasp and look up at him almost wantonly and certainly pathetically. “EJ,” you begin before his other hand presses to your lips.

“You know better than to call me that,” he chides.

You swallow your pride, gradually composing yourself to a sitting position. “Daddy.”

“Better.”

“Please,” you start, moving off the cough and onto the coffee table. You turn around, planting your hands on the glass, poking your ass up and wiggling it side to side in an attempt to entice him, “please. I’ve been… I’ve been bad.”

“Just bad?” He hums as he stands up, palming his pierced cock for a moment or so, hissing as his precum weeps from the tip and onto the cheeks of your ass.

“I’ve been really, really bad,” you continue, still wiggling your hips and ass, swaying ever so slightly.

His tip just barely ghosts your entrance, hand gripping your hip. You feel his claws on your stomach, just barely poking the skin, ready to draw blood. “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” he murmurs. “Why don’t I show you?”

You glance back over your shoulder and look at him with absolute desire and lust, nodding fervently. “Yes, daddy, please.” Your breath hitches as Jack’s hips sharply dart forward, filling you and stretching you almost painfully as his sheer size envelopes your form entirely. He’s still inching inside of you - you haven’t even reached his knot yet - and your arms almost wobble down on the coffee table as he piles you into it.

“Silly girl,” he tuts as he loosely backs up his hips and shallowly thrusts in again, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut in both pain and pleasure. “You’re always gonna be mine.”

You’re not even able to challenge the notion because he begins to absolutely ravage you. You feel like you’re stretched almost impossibly wide as he fucks you against the table, his breath picking up and becoming something more feral as you become a toy, an object, as he uses you. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you rest your cheek against the cool glass, chest pushing against it and leaving marks as you grip as tightly as you can onto the opposite edge of the table.

Jack begins to grit things in a language you don’t understand under his breath as he thrusts into you harder, his veiny cock pulsing inside of you as he drives in deeper and deeper. His balls slap against your clit, bringing you that much closer as he ruthlessly uses you. Judging by his tone, you assume he’s insulting you. “Fucking whore,” he seethes as he pulls you harder and harder against him, muscles tensing and all cares of breaking the coffee table being thrown out the window.

The tall, muscular, grey skinned man leans over you and begins to harshly breathe in your ear, his teeth nipping at the shell as he rolls his hips into you harder. The sound makes thick, meaty claps, almost sending you flying forward from the sheer force but him holding you back anchored you. “I can’t believe you’d even look at another man this way,” he continues in that same language, his lips and teeth leaving your ear and to your neck, nibbling before finally roughly biting down and sucking. It’s going to bruise. When he detaches, he harshly whispers to you again. “Wanton and waiting for someone else other than me, what the fuck were you thinking?” Jack harshly questions before biting yet again into your neck, his claws drawing the faintest of blood that drips like rubies down your skin.

You cry out in that same pleasurable and painful ecstasy and weakly meet his thrusts, barely able to think through the sheer force of him. “I-I-I’m sorry!” You cry out as one of his hands reaches your clit, fingering it as his balls continue to slap against it, making your legs wobble. “I’m sorry for making you mad, daddy!” You exclaim, finding yourself cut off with how his hand leaves your clit and snakes back up to your mouth. His fingers are coated in your juices and his - and he forces your mouth open.

“Lick them clean,” he harshly demands, hips still smacking against you. His length twitches every now and then, and the drag of his piercings feels so delicious against your stretched out walls.

You mumble against his fingers and lick your tongue on him, careful not to cut yourself on his talons as he shoves them deeper into your mouth. You suck on them, closing your eyes once more and feel tears well within them simply from the overload of pleasure.

When Jack pops his now clean fingers out of your mouth, he lifts you like you’re weightless and pops you off his cock, thoroughly amused at your bewildered expression before he plops you back down onto the coffee table, your legs still spread wide open from him, cunt still aching and hungry, absolutely needy for him to fill you to your brim.

The glass feels cool against your back as you realize he’s flipped you over. Your chest doesn’t feel as cramped anymore, so that’s nice. You’re barely afforded a moment with your thoughts before Jack is planting his hands on your left side and the other cups under your ass, lifting you slightly before pushing his thick, veiny cock back inside of you.

And you see it.

He’s building your lower abdomen out just from hsi size alone, and the thought, the image, the feeling, it makes you moan out again. Heat spreads over your entire body as Jack roughly works you up again, his cock bulging your stomach and weeping precum as you tighten your legs around his waist in vain, attempting to grasp onto something - anything to anchor yourself.

Your heart rate is flying, racing and your breaths are just picking up. You almost forget to breathe when Jack is back at the crook of your neck, biting, nipping and sucking, his tongues traveling over your slightly salty sweet skin like salt water taffy as you come closer and closer to breaking.

“Come on,” he hisses, hips roughly thrusting into you, making you gasp each time. “Squirt for me. Make daddy happy,” he continues, accenting each word with an even harsher thrust, stealing your breath each time. He grabs your wrist when you attempt to play with your clit and chides you with a snarl before finally rubbing you in a way that brings you over your edge.

You scream as his knot finally pushes past your bruised, puffy lips and practically becomes swallowed whole. The pain turns to pleasure as tears well in your eyes as you release all over him, sweet fluid splashing all over you and Jack as you vice grip his knot.

Jack pants out as he ruts into you as you squirt all over him, his knot still pushing into you with such hunger, filling you so much further than what you think is possible before he curls against you, his large form wrapping around you as he roars, releasing thick, creamy, white hot liquid into your needy cunt.

“Fuck, Reader, fuck,” he sneers like a mantra, hips weakly bucking against you, still very much connected by the knot as he continues to unload oceans of the warm, creamy liquid into you.

You feel tears roll down your cheeks from the sheer pleasure as you wrap your legs around his waist even tighter, nails raking against his back as you mumble his name and take in his deep scent. He’s otherworldly. You don’t even mind that Jack is still lighty rutting into you as he continues releasing, teeth bared and eyes shut in the pleasure your body is giving him.

When he finally empties himself fully into you, he breathes out deeply and rests his forehead against you, gently, tenderly, sweetly.

You feel hot, much too hot, and the only thing keeping you cool is the glass of the coffee table. You attempt to move off of him, to somewhere more comfortable when you wince in pain. “Ow! What is that?” You grumble as your eyes glance down to where Jack still remains buried inside of you.

He sighs out and follows your gaze. “Knot,” he states simply. “It’s gonna hurt-” He’s barely able to even get the words out as you’re already working on getting him out of you, wincing and hissing at the pain as you remove yourself off the thick, bulbous knot. Tears once again well in your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation, and Jack’s shaking his head as if to say ‘what did you expect?’

“I swear,” he mumbles as his thumbs gently wipe away your tears, not even noticing how his creamy cum pools down your legs and practically creates a waterfall onto the coffee table and onto his once immaculately clean floor. “Don’t force it out next time,” he grumbles as he slowly stands up, stretching slightly.

“Sorry,” you apologize, mind still hazy from the pleasure.

Jack relents and picks you up like you weigh nothing, already subtly checking if you’re hurt in any way from him and the rough coffee table. “It’s whatever,” he hums, holding you in his arms, simultaneously pleased and displeased with how harsh he was. But at least you smell like him. “C’mon, let me take care of this,” he offers, gesturing to the scrapes, cuts and bruises that are blooming on your body due to him.

Not wanting to say anything, you sleepily smile up at him and burrow into his chest. You look up at him.

“What?”

You yawn slightly. “Was I a good girl?” You ask playfully, resting your head on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat pick up.

Jack chuckles quietly. “You sure were.”

“Did I make daddy happy?”

Jack purrs slightly as your fingers brush against his cheek. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nsft #creepypasta scenario #x reader #reader insert #eyeless jack headcanon #ej

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mrsmaybank · 4 years ago

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I��m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

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Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

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A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

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pandoradoesotherstuff · 2 years ago

Text

God of Charm - Part 3

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A/N: And now we finally get to the part you've all been waiting, ssspiiiiiiceeeee!

Incase you missed it here's the link to part 1 and part 2. You don't technically have to read the first 2 parts but just incase you want to, there they are.

Enjoy! ❤️

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You come home to candle light flickering in the library with classical music playing softly on the record player. For a second you think voyeur may have followed you home until you see the familiar dark charcoal suit jacket and red silk cravat hanging neatly on the coat stand next to your front door. Charm hadn't been joking when he said he'd be waiting for you, you just hadn't expected him to be waiting in your own home.

The candle light reflects in Charm's eyes as he looks up as you enter the library. They shine with a soft fondness, book in his hand snapping closed with a muted thud.

"Welcome home". He sits the book down on the near by shelf, hands in his pockets as he walks over to you.

You stand in the door frame just drinking in his appearance, he was more relaxed looking than you'd ever seen him. This is what you'd always wanted, to see him and not just the charming persona he always showed everyone else. You wonder if Charm himself knew what was underneath it all.

"You weren't joking when you said you'd be waiting for me, huh?" You're having a hard time looking directly at him as you speak, Charm had never looked so handsome before. The soft flames in the room shimmering on his skin, make up practically making his eyes glow as your own eyes trail down the few open buttons of his shirt giving a slight tease of the creamy pale skin bellow.

Charm tenderly cups your face in his large hands, thumbs running affectionately over your skin. You close your eyes, savouring the feeling of finally having him close to you.

"You were right about me, you know. I had never thought about who I was outside of the god of Charm. Maybe if I had I could have done this a lot sooner". His voice is quiet as he speaks, almost trailing off as his lips finally meet yours. The kids is soft and sweet, you both move instinctively closer until your bodies are touching. "I'd wait several life times over for you Art if I meant I got to kiss you again". His forehead rests lightly against yours, eyes shut as you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"Lucky for you, you don't have to wait then", you smile.

"Lucky me indeed", he murmurs before his lips meet yours again. It's slow and passionate this time, his hands moving down to your waist, resting on the bare skin of your sides under your shirt. He starts walking you back until your legs hit the edge of your desk, nudging you so you hop up to sit on it, his body slotting between your legs perfectly.

You let out a quiet murmur of appreciation as his lips travel across your jaw and down your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access. His long fingers make short work on the buttons of your shirt, pushing the fabric down your shoulders and completely off. You're vagely aware of the sound of the material sliding to the floor but you pay it no mind, attention solely focusing on those dexterous fingers as they explore your bare skin now on display.

"I know things are moving fast but..." He says huskily in your ear, teeth grazing your lobe for good measure. "But I want you Art, no, I need you. Not just for now but for as long as you'll have me". Charm nuzzles into your neck again, murmuring 'please be mine' in-between open mouthed kisses. Your skin flushes at the admission of his feelings, you could never have imagined Charm being so honest about himself in a million years and yet here you were. He was trying so hard to change for you. You think about it for a moment, trying to find the right words before an idea forms in your mind.

You reach back to unclasp your bra, dropping it the floor somewhere. Charm leans back watching you with dark appreciative eyes. You push some papers off of the desk behind you before lying back, trying not to flinch from the cold wood now pressed against your bare skin.

"I am yours for the taking Charm, I want to always be yours. Please...claim me".

Charm wastes no time descending upon you like a starving man, lips and fingers exploring every inch of skin he could, teeth biting sharply to mark you. You try to unbutton his shirt too but he takes hold of your wrists and moves them away.

"Oh no sweet heart, this right here is all about you".

You don't get a chance to answer as Charm now unbuttons your pants, you awkwardly kick your boots off as he slides them down your legs. Charm strokes your thighs taking in the sight of you before him, he'd never seen you look so beautiful. His fingers trail over your underwear, teasing you a little and causing a whimper to come out from your throat. You can feel yourself already getting aroused as he slowly slides your underwear off with a smirk, leaning down as he spreads your thighs wide for him, exposing your now wet core. Charm maintains eye contact with you as he leans down and drags the flat of his tongue along you. Moans and whimpers leave your throat freely as he laps at you, tongue flicking and teasing your clit. Your hands find his hair, knotting in it, tugging on it as he continues his assault on your core. It was if he already knew your body inside and out. Each skilled flick of his tongue sending you closer and closer to the edge. Then you feel two of his fingers slide inside you, body clenching around them instantly, moans getting louder. You moan his name loudly as he curls them up, brushing against your most sensitive areas and triggers your climax. Charm pushes his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your orgasm until your body goes completely lax, panting happily.

You can't help but giggle when Charm straightens up, his chin glistens with your slick, usually perfect hair sticking up in all directions. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before sucking his fingers clean.

"As good as you look there Art, I think we should move this to some where more comfortable". Charm holds out his hand for you and you happily take it.

#god of charm x reader #god of charm x oc #kollok #kollok council of the gods

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

Note

Can you write some more about nice guy jock kiri? Please and thank you. Have a good day!

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO - RED RIOT

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, suggestive language, manipulation, coercion

THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

He said she could pick the movie this time.

He said she could pick out any movie at all. Whatever she wanted, they were going to watch. Yet in the time she’d spent making lunch, Kirishima sprawled lazily in her bed, browsing half-mindedly, eyes sliding from viewing the screen to looking at her round grabbable ass dancing as she padded about the small kitchen, begging for him to come pinch as she put the stir-fry in bowls and walked over to plot herself down next to the muscly block of man, he’d already picked a movie, far away from something she’d choose, though when eyeing what puppy-dog look he gave her, she couldn't very well say no.

Kirishima has always been clingy. She wouldn't like to call it suffocating, or controlling, though it does border on the word. But she cannot blame him for being handsy and suggestive when they’re alone, in her apartment, in her bed. He’s always been needy, always touching her, so very big-hearted and forward, easily distracted, easily discarding of tasks in favor of doing what new activity calls for his attention, like a dog.

She was becoming quite used to his confident nature, how hap-hazardously he would go about touching her, kissing and licking at her the way he so often went about doing, so much so it was strange to think that they hadn't ever actually slept together.

They had been dating for a couple weeks, and Kirishima was clear about his intentions and aspirations and wants and needs from the start, being a very open honest person, but she couldn't help but feel as though he was pushing her, nudging her, guilt-tripping her with candid words of how horny he was because of her, how frustrated he was, how frigid, how it was effecting his schoolwork, how good a boyfriend he was for waiting, for being patient and tolerant, how she couldn't blame him for wanting something in return, even though that something was a thing she wasn't ready to give him.

It would be wrong if she said he didn't respect her wishes, because he had, albeit begrudgingly. Each time she invited him over, or... he invited himself over, when he became rowdy, it would always take a good amount of bargaining and persuasion on her side, which was always met with even more coaxing and encouragement from him. How he would message his hand into the inside of her thigh, and she would push ever so gently to keep him at bay until he finally laid off, the mood stiff and awkward as he left her apartment to walk to his own place, alone, with a rejected boner he would have to take care of alone, then go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. He had still respected her wish in the end, or... maybe not respected, but at least accepted it.

She hadn't picked out the movie, and it being something she hadn't really invested very much thought into, she didn't try and stop him from nuzzling into her neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh found there. She allowed him to lift her shirt up to rub circles into her stomach with his warm roughened hand, let him grab and grope and mold her breast through the fabric of her bra, let him swing his leg over her body, to lock her position beneath him and his brawny heavy frame as he cuddled into her.

She could already feel the stiff bulge bump into her thigh, tried to forgive him for always riling himself up when he knows what her answer’s going to be, knows how she isn't ready to give him what he wants. Hearing his breathing picking up, becoming rugged and raspy, hot against her neck as he tried humping into her, having rolled and positioned and handled both their bodies so he could lie between her thighs, face mushed into the soft skin of her neck, nipping at her collarbones , spiky hair poking into the underside of her chin, hands abrasive when squeezing at the flesh of her ass and thighs, gripping them to lock around his torso, venturing to grab at her waist and breasts, becoming more and more frenzied, more and more rugged, forgetting his strength, forgetting her protests, getting more and more carried away.

She jolted once she felt his fingers hook into the band of her panties, having slipped up her skirt and spidered playfully up her thigh. She grabbed his arms loosely, small hands obviously not able to wrap around the thickness of his muscles, though applying what strength she deemed necessary to make him take her seriously, lightly digging her fingernails into his skin. “Uhm, Kiri-” She squeaked unsurely, breaching the shapeless noisy silence of heavy breathing and rugged groans and building growls that had filled the room, movie still quietly playing in the background, white noise completely ignored by the burning of her ears.

“Come on, let me feel.” He purred into her ear, giving her lobe a nibble.

“Uhm, I don't think-” She shoved at him, balls of her feet digging into the mattress, trying to sit up.

He laid his weight down on her, immobilizing her movement, keeping her under him. “Come on...” He drawled, voice rumbling. “Please?” Mumbling into her skin, knowing how it always makes her giggle from the tickle by the light scruff on his chin, knowing it makes her sweet and pliable. “Pretty please? It’ll feel good, I promise.”

He didn't really wait for any response, his face mushed into her neck, seeming cute as he pleaded but also acting as a great trap, his hand succeeded in pushing her panties aside, warm worn fingers, foreignly larger cuddled with the sensitivity kept there. His breath shuddered, lips spreading into a toothy grin against her neck, so wide she could feel it.

“Aww.” He moaned. “That’s so warm and wet.” She cringed, but hadn't the time to tell him to stop, hadn't the time to decide that she valued her limits more than maintaining the good vibe, and then she hadn't the mind to really think about it at all, too preoccupied with wrapping her thoughts around the fact that Eijiro had just pushed one thick knuckled finger inside her, roughly at that, pumped it in, stuffed her with it, with an equally chaffed thumb-pad laying heavy pressure down into her little beading clit.

It would probably have felt awful, the brutish boyish clumsy inconsiderate rubbing, but having him dry-hump into her for the better half of the entire movie made for a little messy spill between her thighs, perfectly ready to make whatever rough movement he gave seem like God’s touch, enough to have her moan at once.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, cocky undertone almost completely smoked out by livid lust, his arousal so very clear in his voice as he removed his weight when feeling her body melt and comply to what his hand was giving her of bliss. His large muscly frame rising to kneel between her legs, having her thighs hiked up and spread atop of his, forehead resting against hers. She bobbed her head in a series of quick sporadic nods, teeth biting harshly into her lip as she watched with a bowed head his finger disappear in and out the vulnerable sensitivity found between her spread thighs, the smell of beer on his heavy hot breaths fan over her face before he kissed her head. “You wanna cum?” She gave a moan, indicating an unspoken yes as he rubbed his thumb over and over her tender pearl, pushing another one of his long fingers inside her, making her gasp out a moan, mewing as he curled and scissored the two digits inside her, making her inevitable unraveling arrive much quicker.

He wiped his sticky hand on his pant leg with a small smug smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, watching as her head fell back to rest against the pillow again, beginning to unbutton his jeans.

The sound of him sliding down his zipper pulled her focus back, eyelids fluttering open just in time to watch him pull his throbbing hard erection out with a sigh. And though the red-head had gone about the reveal in an unceremonious manner, whether it was out of lack of showmanship or Kirishima deeming it unnecessary, it didn't really matter to the virgin beneath him. She took one look and she wasn’t able to look away. A surprising black bush drew her focus at first, what more the two easter-eggs that seemed to be nestling there, but not before long her eyes felt the need to follow what bulging pumping purple vein ran up the underside of the thickness, almost like a spine, or a pin that reached up to a red-blushed head, glossed like a candy-apple, with a slit running though it and a spill of pre-cum dripping down to disappear in the dark forest below.

She could swear it sized up to her whole arm’s-length.

Her eyebrows knitted as she continued eyeing the hard pole, watching it bob with strength, straining against his stomach, standing proudly on it’s own as he lifted his shirt off his arms and shoulders, throwing it to the floor, revealing what mouthwatering washboard rock-hard abs he kept beneath.

His hand once again reached out, this time to grab her wrist, guiding her shaking hand back to his thick member, watching her hesitate to wrap her delicate little fingers around his length once he squeezed her wrist too hard in impatience, seeing her bite her lip at the feel of the almost rubbery-smooth texture of his length in her palm, warm to the touch. His larger hand wrapped around her smaller one, guiding the movement as he started pumping up and down.

He groaned, head hung and resting atop her shoulder where he knelt with her sitting form in his lap, red eyes with wide pupils locked on watching her small hand loosely holding onto him, his cock looking so unbelievably huge in her tiny grasp, like some beast, where the more he thought about it and the more he looked, it was big compared to all of her, he could only imagine what she was thinking as she eyed his length with that cute childish level of curiosity and sweet tinge of virgin anxiety. She needed to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling, wanting to squeeze her thighs shut when they too became unruly, wanting to protect what was kept between them.

It only made his cock throb even harder.

“I- fuck-” He grunted, thrusting shallowly up into her hand by angling his hips up, looking down upon her enticing pretty silken dew-kissed heat, his finger greedily reaching to touch the tender entrance only to hear her whimper out a small whine at once when his rough digits brazenly made contact. “You’re so shy, it’s adorable.”

The loosely given hand-job felt good around his priorly ignored arousal, what with how sensitive he was, but was missing what her pussy was welcomingly dripping with.

He lowered himself, hand grabbing his base to steady the attack, yet was declined by her placing her own hand in front of the poor unsuspecting virgin tightness. “Uhm, Kiri- I-”

He shushed at her, prying her hand easily away, replacing it with his own, rubbing those electrical patterns he did before into her pretty budding pearl. “No, no, Baby. Come on. Pretty please, it’ll feel so good, I’ll be gentle okay? It’ll be good, I promise.” He swirled his thumb over her clit, an act far from gentle, though sending those sharp involuntary spikes of pleasure into her core, giving to something pooling in her stomach, something warm and sticky and heavier than before, almost burdening with how it strained in the muscles of her thighs, making her shake beneath the man’s mere thumb. “I love you, Baby, don't you want us to take the next step?”

“Uhm...” She gasped as he abused the sensitivity under his course strength.

“Thank you, Baby.” He purred, lips carved into a smile fit for devouring, planting kisses down her face and into her neck, his cock pushing into the velvet folds.

But she backed up, balls of her feet pushing into the mattress, her palms doing the same, but Kirishima had other plans, none of them including letting her up.

“Kiri, no-” She pushed lightly at his chest then, as she’d done before, trying to soothe and smooth over the feathers she’d ruffled, trying ever so gently in those small soft caresses to apologize for having riled him up so.

But seems this time he wouldn't have that either, her hands cupped and pulled rather dismissively out of the way, dominated by his own and how he intertwined his digits, raking them in with her dainty ones, locking their hands, or rather securing hers, before pushing them flat into the sheets beside her, giving him full access to what lied beneath him without her bothersome fists getting in his way. “Come on, Babe... stop being a little tease...” Her hands slipped their confinements in his as he rather needed them to manage her body, felt that twitching itch to grab and grope and tug and pull at all her doughy flesh. She gasped as he groped a mans handful of her ass, bumping his bare cock into her, rubbing it up and over her pussy, bobbing between their stomachs.

His face was still so adamant on nibbling at the flesh of her collar, leaving what she knew to be ugly swelling purple stains that turned into those vile green and yellow marks looking like fungus blooming on her skin. “I’m sorry-” It was all too much to have his warm skin pressed against her, his naked hardness, all of him, his rough hands, his brutish needle-sharp teeth, that thing that poked at her, humped into her where he’d made a sticky wet hot mess, with her underwear put somewhere out of sight and most definitely out of reach. “I’m not ready to-” Her hands tried softly but with increasing effort at getting him off, trying to get her discomfort across to the seemingly clueless baboon who was handling her body to his own selfish ends on top of her.

“It’s fine.” His voice was heated, soft despite trodding over her own, as he tried calming her down, again with his hands tugging at her wrists and pushing the annoying things away from him, again so he could lie himself down on top of her. “We’ll try something-” His efforts at soothing her weren’t appreciated by the girl beneath as she continued pushing, bordering on thrashing beneath the giant red-head.

“Kiri, stop. ” There was an edge to her voice this time, an edge he didn’t appreciate.

Large hand wrapped their fingers around her wrist and crushed it with a strength she couldn't hope to match, a dark chuckle following, rumbling just beside her ear alongside a small smile carving his lips at the cute pop of bones followed by her whimper. “Stop being so difficult, Babe.” He chastised, voice dismissive and completely unbothered by her spiked struggles, treating her reluctance like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience he could simply swat away like a fly. “I know you’ll like it, you just need to-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” She cried now, adorable small whines as she tried prying her hand out of his hold. “Get off me!”

“Kinda feels like you’re trying to piss me off here.” His tone darkened, and so did the look in his eyes, and though she was just short of bawling with the lump of hopelessness and fear caught stuck in her throat, the adrenaline gave her such a rush of confidence as her leg finally managed to shuffle under his, allowing her to knee him right in that swelled thick slug he was so transfixed on appeasing.

And though she managed briefly to slip out from beneath him, it was no victory, and she felt that ounce of triumph that fluttered in her heart snuff out at the feel of his brawny taunt and rock hard arms wrap around her torso, hoisting her off the ground, only to throw her right back where she’d been laying not moments ago.

“Please, Eijirou, please, you're scaring me, stop.” She kicked now, flopping beneath him like a fish hauled up on a boat, tried prying her hands out of his grasp yet couldn't stop him from holding her down, rolling her on her stomach while he pulled off his uniform necktie, bending her arms behind her back and tightening the noose around her wrists, pulling the tail between them to secure the knot tightly, before rolling her back with her hands being crushed beneath her.

Her face reappeared tear-slicked and panicked. “There we go, all pretty and perfect for me.” He lightly tapped her face as he stuffed her mouth with the panties he fished back up from his pockets, settling between her legs again as she whined through the make-shift gag.

Rough course hand, like sandpaper, like rock, slid down between her thighs, slowly in their venture, pushing and kneading into the softness, hungry as they groped and pushed her open, wrapped her around his torso so he could slap his rock-solid cock onto her vulnerable little opening.

“Let me paint a picture for you, Babe.” He started, catching her attention.

Her eyes so unbelievably wide as she looked up at him through the thick hazy ominous darkness of the room, a darkness that once seemed so cozy now so overwhelming, the sun having gone down, the TV turned to black, the lights left off and the only glimmer coming from the streetlights and the dim white glow of the moon shining in through her window, leaving Kirishima’s sharp teeth to hang above her and how they seemed to drip, eerie shadows cast upon his face, eyes red and hazy, drooped to slits, drunk and cocky as he continued rubbing his cockhead up through the lips of her pussy ever so causally, like she wasn’t bound and bawling beneath him.

“So listen up and listen carefully. Can you do that, Babe?”

She felt cold suddenly, chilled to her core by his tone, reduced to shivering beneath his confident touch, shuddering where she laid, chest pushed upward above the support her arms gave, head drawing in the dune of her pillow, thighs lifted to straddle her boyfriend’s waist, his hand keeping her there by curling his thumb into the underside of her knee.

“The way I see it, you have two options.” He leaned in, voice sturdy but soft like a straight-jacket. “Either you be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” Tone swooping low into a growl. “Or...”

His hands moved steadily as they began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up, planting a kiss on the newly exposed skin of her tummy, just short of her belly-button. The light scruff of his chin tickling the thin skin it rubbed against as he continued licking and nibbling on the flesh the more it was exposed to him.

“You run along to your friends, tell them what a bad bad guy I am. They ask for proof, but silly little you have no proof to give.” He chuckled, warm breath breezed on the peach-fuzz of her chest as he kept sucking his marks into her, hands fingering the last of her buttons. “People love me, Buttercup, so let me ask you this...” The crimson spikes of his hair stuck into the underside of her chin as he licked up her throat, kissed her jaw and bit at her earlobe, whispering. “Who’s side you think they gonna take?” Humming as he watched another fat tear run down her cheek. “You go to the teachers, they ask for proof, something you still don’t have because there is none. And even if they did believe you... no saying they’d do anything about it. I’m destined to be a billboard hero. Do you really think they’ll throw all that away on some ditz from general studies?” Question after question, answer after answer, each one another stab and twist of the rusty blade in her hope. “Think again.” With her shirt open she witnessed him morph his hand into sharp rock, a jagged finger burrowing beneath the bridge of her bra and cutting the thick fabric loose, now fully exposed to his mouthful of teeth and slobbering tongue. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the world works, Sweetheart.”

She closed her eyes, clamped them shut, but it only helped her feel all his entitled actions even more, how he moved, rightfully, regardlessly, without regret or remorse. She swore she could feel him pulsating against her, his cock pumping against her swollen clit, where she could argue that the rip of him tearing apart her skirt was the loudest noise she’d ever heard in her life.

“And perhaps it ends there, but I know you. You continue, trying to make anyone believe you, eventually ending up in management for crazy obsessed fanatic fangirls -of which I have many- or you give up.” His mouth enclosed her nipple, tongue swirling around the bud, fingers tweaking the other breast with boyish greediness. “Either way, you end up missing. With no friends to bother coming to find you, thinking that your delusional ass offed yourself, when in reality...”

Large hand curling around her neck, squeezing as he rose to look down at her, rock his hips to allow his cock more friction, sliding up and down between her thighs, bobbing against her stomach, thrumming and spilling thick whiteness, dripping and smearing onto her skin.

“You’re right back here with me.”

Her heart skipped, seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. His words hung poised, forgetting how to drop, like dust settling, lingering about the air as she looked up at him, thinking he looked like the onset of hell, like a demon, his hair like horns, his eyes like hellfire, and those teeth, those sharp unforgiving teeth.

“You see, if you don’t give, I will take.” He juggled her head with the tight grip he had on her jaw, playing with her as his other hand swept through her delicate sensitive folds, made her cringe, try and shimmy away, all to his disgusting amusement shown in the snaggletooth that hooked over his lip as he smirked a grim curled line. “And right now it looks to me like I might just have to show you just how defenseless you are to stop me.” His digits wiggled inside her, and she whined into her panties as she sucked on them, her eyes clinging to the dangerous heat simmering inside his. “Aww see? You’re already getting so wet. Your body sure knows who it belongs to, I’m sure you will too, very soon.”

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years ago

Text

The Late Shift - Part 3

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), PRAISE KINK, sex in a public place (voyeurism if you squint?), Oral sex (Female receiving), PIV sex, gratuitous use of the pet name ‘good girl’

Authors Note: Yeah, we sped right on into smut town in this one. This smutty addition should conclude our little story, and now this ADCU character will forever be known to me as Praise Kink Paul.

Part 1 + Part 2

It was eerily quiet as you stared at Paul in bewildered shock, not fully knowing if the word he just spoke actually left his mouth. It didn’t seem real. A man you’d met barely hours ago returning for you. Needing you. But what exactly did that mean?

Paul’s expression had kept its hesitation long into the silence, his body unmoving. He had never been so bold before. Making a move like this, so soon after a first meeting, was absolutely unheard of in his past. And yet here he was now, watching over your face, trying to gauge the thoughts hidden behind your eyes. There was an essence of shock clearly shining in your irises, and Paul could only come to the conclusion he’d scared the hell out of you.

“I- I, uh, I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his bid at cooling your fear. “What do you mean by… needing me?”

Paul nervously pulled at his blazer collar, realising now how vague and outright creepy the statement must have sounded. Somehow he needed to explain himself without coming off more strange than he already did. “Oh, I just… I wanted to see if you were free for a late dinner. There’s are great dumpling house around the corner and-”

Your lids had narrowed as Paul continued to stumble his way through his words, stopping him again mid-sentence. “You said… you needed me.”

Fuck. He’d definitely freaked you out. He could tell you it was a lie, a colourful way of offering a date, but suddenly the prospect seemed rather difficult. Because in truth, he’d meant exactly what he’d said. He needed you, in a way he hadn’t needed someone for a long time. He needed to know what your lips tasted like, the softness of your skin, the sound of your quickened breaths-

“Ask me again,” you shot out, your demeanour having morphed into one of resolve. Paul could feel his heart rate pick up.

“What?”

“Ask me out. To dinner. Ask me on a date.”

The rhythm of beats turned erratic - a smile already desperate to spread across his face. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his chances. With a steadying breath, Paul kept his tone light, hoping to hide the excitement rattling inside his chest. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

“No.”

The word pierced the air with such a stinging jolt it made Paul want to recoil. “Uh… oh, but I thought… Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You took a step from around the service counter, a single finger sliding over the cheap marble, keeping your eyes locked with Paul as you moved. The only answer you supplied was a shake of your head, treading closer to the flustered man, his face creased into a positively adorable look of uncertainty.

It was your time to be bold now. You weren’t sure how it happened, when the rush of confidence flashed through your limbs, pushing you into a determination you’d not been allowed to embrace very often. Maybe it was because you’d already endured a horrifying dose of embarrassment today. Maybe it was because you found this stranger so attractive it physically burned your insides. Maybe it was because you had been fantasising about the things he might do to you for the last several hours and your logical brain was currently suffocated by lust. No matter the reason, you treaded towards Paul with a measured composure, until finally you were standing at his front, a thickened air of tension sifting around the two of you, the dimmed lights softly bouncing off the frames of his glasses. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, evidently nervous at the proximity. But he wasn’t retreating, he wasn’t edging himself away. When his stare flickered down to your lips, pupils swelling at the sight, you knew this was your opening.

“I don’t want a date. I want what I sent in that message,” you breathed. “In fact, I think I need it.”

To your surprise, Paul didn’t waver like you assumed he would. Large palms were quick to scoop under your jaw, pulling you forward into an impassioned kiss. Two sets of lips colliding in a hungered clash, bodies melting into one another, your own hands clutching at the scratchy tweed jacket he wore. The entanglement was frenzied, rough, much more forceful and impatient than either of you would normally act in your separate lives. In these moments those pasts selves seemed like distant memories, both of you shedding the bondage of your doubts in mere seconds, succumbing to the impulses sparked to life by what should have been an inconsequential meeting.

Each kiss never wavered in its intensity, only thriving with heat and fervour, feeling Paul beginning to suck and bite at your lower lip while his hands wandered over your clothes. The irritation that arrived at the barrier between his touch and your flesh was enough to make another decision resolute.

This man was gasoline to your waiting fire, and you wanted him to pour himself all over you, not caring if the world around you burst into flames.

Before you could get the words out, what was going to be an eager plea, he stole them from you.

“M-More?” he gasped, trailing delicate pecks down your neck. “Would… Would you want more?” The question was followed by the slow push of his hips into you, providing another show of evidence that was too persuading to refuse. Into his collar you grabbed two fists of fabric, pulling him backwards with you. He followed your lead gladly, a tangle of legs treading somewhat haphazardly over the shop floor, avoiding the circular displays of dress shirts until your back finally knocked into the dressing room door.

Even if you’d had second thoughts at the risk this was to your job if you were caught ravaging a newly obtained client on the security cameras, they would have been erased at the way Paul clutched at your hips and ushered you inside the small cubicle, refusing to let his mouth stray from yours as a single hand moved to fiddle the lock closed behind him.

The second after it clicked into your confinement, there was a pause, with a rushed whisper into your ear. “I don’t… I don’t usually do this…”

“Me either,” you rasped back, nails clawing into his hair as he set another deepened kiss on you. “This… I’ve never been… so hasty.”

There was a low groan that rumbled from Paul’s throat as you pulled lightly to tilt his head back, skating your lips under his jawline. He took the opportunity of your parted mouths to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. “I’m not… rushing you… am I? We can stop… If you want to stop-”

You smile, warmed by his gallantry, before nibbling at the rise of his collarbone. “I want to keep going. Please… Don’t stop.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“Say please. Again.”

“Please,” you whined back, delving into a begging tone.

The fingers clutching at your waist tensed at the proclamation, moving down to the curve of your ass as another gradual thrust was pressed into the apex of your thighs. You could feel it, feel him, the physical indication of just how sincere his desire truly was. It made you ache, made you suddenly feel too empty, too incomplete. Instinct made you about to reach for the buckle of Paul’s belt so you would know the full scale of what would hopefully be yours to take, but he was too quick.

With impressive dexterity, Paul unfastened the button of your slacks, slipping one hand inside while the other became curled around your neck, anchoring you into place. He hesitated at the hem of your cotton panties, his tempered breath warm over your face while your stares held one another’s.

“I want to touch you… Would that be okay?”

You immediately nodded, rolling your hips upward to meet his stilled hand. “Touch me Paul. Please.”

It was a magic word, dashing any of his reservations in an instant. Fingertips swiftly slipped underneath the thin fabric, skimming over the trail of pubic hair that the feel of made Paul’s cock throb even harsher than before. While never explicitly voiced out loud, he loved the natural state of a woman, knowing it set off something primal in him he couldn’t quite explain. The recognition made a hurried groan escape before even dipping into the line of your folds, only for another one to follow at the sensation of slick essence waiting there.

A gasp leapt from your throat, the sound settling into a delighted whimper as Paul explored you, letting two of his fingers trace up and down, teasing the edge of your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, capturing your lips in another fevered convergence. “Have you… Have you been like this since…?”

“The whole time,” you finished. “Since I first saw you, heard your voice…”

Paul’s subsequent groan echoed in the small space. The people in his life were never this forthcoming with their information, and here you were being so unrestricted and honest. He wanted to reward you for it. His movements shifted to centre on the swollen nub of your clit, placing sweetened kisses just below the lobe of your ear. “Do you want to come?”

You mewled as increasingly more intense pulsations of ecstasy began to billow out from your core. Every motion this man made with his fingers was unlike anything you’d encountered before. There was finesse, an elegance in every subtle action, smooth and severe at the same time. “Oh god, yes. I want to come, I want you to make me come.”

“Will you be a good girl for me?”

The question had arrived without Paul being able to prevent it, and he immediately felt a wash of dread simmer through him. What if you weren’t into that? What if he’d fucked this all up with one slip of the tongue?

He needn’t have worried.

“Do good girls get to come?” you asked, nails clawing into the hair at the nape of Paul’s neck.

He couldn’t have been more relieved, increasing his pace on you, a positively beaming smile being pressed into your throat in between the small licks and open-mouthed kisses he began to coat under your jawline. “They do. And you’ve already been such a good girl. So good for me. So wet… So willing...”

“A-anything for you,” you puffed out, breathless at the rising pleasure Paul was igniting, mind blurred from the combination of his exhale skating over your skin and the expert flourishes he traced over your bundle of nerves. “I’ll be anything. Your good girl, bad girl, anything you want.”

“You’re already everything I want,” Paul cooed. While true he’d only seen glimpses of your full self so far, he was already convinced of the words he’d spoken. It made him feel even more courageous, more ravenous to please you. “And I want to show you how much. Does my good girl trust me?”

A delirious hum filled the air as your agreement. How could you not say yes to such a question? You were already putty in Paul’s hand the moment he’d finally kissed you, and with his hardness pressing against your thigh as a promise of what might be to come, there was no way in hell you would have refused. It wouldn’t have been a lie either. You did trust him. Not that you could explain why right now.

With your consent given, Paul retreated from you, only to snatch at your wrist at the same time he unlocked the changeroom door. You gasped softly as he pulled you out into the now darkened space, thankfully having the shop lights set on a timer to switch off before you were meant to leave. Although, it now appeared your night was long from over.

The subtle glow of the computer screensaver guided Paul to exactly where he’d planned, steering you to the edge of the counter and immediately propping you onto it. You would have squealed in surprise if not for the way he led another assault on your lips, standing between your spread legs, also beginning to tear apart the buttons of your blouse and wrench the covering away. The dull, beige bra you wore underneath was the next item to be taken from your body, Paul having the latch unclasped with a single flick of his fingers. As the straps were dragged down your arms, he moved his mouth downwards to a perked nipple, tongue toying with the bud as you rocked your head back with a decadent sigh.

“So beautiful,” he rumbled against your chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your fingers snaked into Paul’s hair again, relishing the praise you’d rarely been afforded as he set himself onto your other breast, darting the tip of tongue around the sensitive centre. You could have let him linger there, but you became acutely aware of the shifted balance of your exposure, your torso bared while Paul’s remained irritatingly layered. That needed to be corrected.

You pulled on the inky strands to force Paul’s head back before starting work moving the jacket from over his shoulders. He allows it to slide off easily, hearing a small thud below as the heavy article fell in a crumpled heap. The sweater was next to be peeled off, finding yourself smirking at how Paul’s glasses became crooked from the woollen material slipping over his face. He caught your amused expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you giggled softly, fixing the frames to properly sit on the bridge of his nose. “You’re just… so cute.”

A gawky smile spread across Paul’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d been called cute before. He liked it more than he would have thought. The warmth it set off in his chest made him capture you in a kiss once more, although this one was significantly less urgent and more… affectionate. Slower, delicate, mouths moving in a hypnotic synchronicity, so much so Paul didn’t notice you’d unlocked the buttons of his shirt until you were pulling the tucked in portion out of his trousers.

As the dreadful, yellowed fabric was finally abandoned to reveal the torso beneath, you heard Paul release a rumble of satisfaction when your hands began to roam over the uncovered skin. You, yourself had to stifle a moan just from the feel of him alone. You’d imagined in your idle daydreaming a toned form hidden underneath those god-awful clothes, but it hadn’t prepared you for this. Every muscle was defined, tightened, firm underneath your touch, his chest so broad even your two splayed out hands didn’t cover the full expanse. You couldn’t stop yourself from withdrawing backwards just to view it with your own eyes, biting hard on your lower lip as you took in the sight.

It made Paul suddenly self-conscious, casting his eyes down. “I don’t- My job keeps me so busy… Getting to the gym is a little hard-”

“What? No!” you stopped him, realising where his train of thought had gone. You tilted his chin upwards to force your stares to meet. “I was actually just thinking how much more I hate that terrible outfit for hiding all of this-” You let your hands skim down his front, leaning in close, “-from me.”

Paul’s lips curved upwards. “You were?”

“I really was.” You set your lips under his jaw, reaching around Paul’s flanks to scratch your nails lightly over the middle of his back. “By far the sexiest customer I’ve ever had walk in here.”

Paul wanted to scoff. Being called sexy was even rarer for him than being called cute. And yet, with the way you pressed your naked breasts against him, clutching him closer to you while your hot breath at his shoulder made his hairs stand up, it was the first time in his life he believed it might be true. So, instead of dismissing the sentiment, he allowed it to take over, embracing the swell of fearlessness it brought.

Suddenly your pants, along with the panties underneath, were being excitedly wrenched down the curve of your ass, Paul having them stripped from your legs within seconds. If anyone walking past peered into the shopfront, they might have seen you draped over the register now completely devoid of clothing. But, you didn’t care. Not when Paul had proceeded to lower himself between your opened thighs, holding them apart with his large hands, his eyes wide and wandering over your cunt.

“Fuck,” he marvelled. With one long stripe, his tongue travelled up the divide, groaning into your centre. “Tastes even better than it looks.”

Leaning on your elbows, you whined as Paul began to gently lap at you, dipping further inside each time, occasionally holding his focus on swirling over your aching clit. It made you whimper and writhe against him, overwhelmed with an incessant need of the release he’d been sparking for what seemed like hours.

“You want to come huh?” Paul spoke out loud. “Grinding your pussy on my face like that?”

“Please! I need it! So, so, badly.”

Ah, that magic word again. “I know,” Paul soothed, having to palm himself over his trousers just to calm some of the impulse to fuck you right then. “You’ve been so good, doing so well. And you’ll get to come real soon. Just promise me one thing okay?”

“Whatever you want,” you heaved, watching while Paul’s fingertips drifted over the slippery flesh, teasing in and out of the folds.

“Be a good girl and ask my permission when you’re about to come. Can you do that?”

Again, it was only a pitiful moan you could supply as your answer, which this time wasn’t quite enough to satiate the man gliding his touch over you infuriatingly slowly.

“I need to hear you say it. I need you to tell me what you’re going to do.”

Another cry left you as Paul slipped two fingers inside your heat, your mind blurred from the feel of knuckles moving past the edge of your entrance, stretching you open. “Be… Be a good girl… I’ll be your good girl and ask permission.”

Hearing you say the words, Paul was sure he’d never been so hard in his whole existence. It was almost painful, his cock straining against the zipper he was trapped by, but it was a pain he savoured more than ignored. Even if this was as far as he got, if this scene ended with your cum smeared over his lips and nothing more, he would be grateful for the throbbing down below and gladly thank you for it. So, he dove in.

As the duel sensation of Paul’s tongue and fingers rose in their intensity, your back became flush with the marble countertop, only to have it arched as the rippling currents of ecstasy started shooting through your whole body. Muscles twitching, thighs trembling, you were astounded at how proficient he was at drawing your climax to the surface, somehow knowing the motions and spots that brought it ever closer to the point of breaking. Usually, in those uncommon occurrences a man would want to put forth the effort, many minutes would float on while you chased the seemingly unreachable high. Paul needed only a few of them before your breaths turned staggered and toes began to curl, scrambling to find your voice.

“I… I’m… oh god, Paul, you’re going to make me… Please… please let me…”

He didn’t dare to pull away to speak his encouragement out loud, instead silently spurring you along while keeping his pace steady.

Get the words out, you can do it. Just ask the question. I want to see you come. I want to see how pretty you look when you come.

You bolted up, stomach tensing, snatching both sets of fingers into Paul’s hair. With him captured in your stare as more waves of pleasure crested from your core, you turned begging. “Oh please. I’m so… So close… Can I please come? Will you let me come?”

Paul groaned, the vibrations ricocheting outwards, being quick with his reply. “It’s okay, you can come. Come for me baby, come nice and hard for me.”

Back slumping down onto the cold countertop, you did as you were told. Walls clenched around Paul’s fingers in quickened spasms as your coarse sighs filled the balmy atmosphere. He’d never watched something so enthralling, the way your chest rose and fell with sweat clinging to your skin as you rode out the heavenly bliss you’d fallen into. Only when he was positive you’d slipped into the beginning of your afterglow did Paul retreat, resting over your body to place adoring kisses at your forehead and cheek.

“You did so good,” he murmured.

The connection rattled you back into the current reality, moving to rub your palm over his hidden erection. “We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not?”

You were far beyond the point of playing coy. “Can you please fuck me now? I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Your pleading tone set something alight inside him, dragging you down until your feet made it to the floor and spinning you around in one swift action. Bent at the edge of the desk, a jingle of a belt buckle rung out, finally feeling Paul’s hardness press against your rear. And he felt huge. Thankfully still seeping from your climax, it was with ease he was able to eagerly sink into your waiting cunt, a rousing groan escaping from each of you.

“Oh fuck. You… feel so fucking good.” An arm slinked around your waist to wrench you flush against Paul’s torso, having his panting breath directly in your ear as he continued to drive himself further inside, gradually building his momentum. “Such a tight, wet pussy for me to make mine.”

“It’s yours,” you mewled. “It’s all yours.”

Paul lost his ability to speak, merely producing a growling moan into your neck as the pace and strength of his thrusts amplified, having little restraint left to hold himself back any longer. Repeated lewd, slapping sounds mingled with the coupled moans and whimpers of your collective satisfaction, passion radiating off your bodies in the form of feverish heat. It wasn’t long until you noted the stuttered exhales rushing out of Paul’s chest, a clear sign you didn’t miss.

“Want you to fill me. If… If you want to… You can… Fill me all the way up.”

Sure, it was reckless as all hell, but Paul trusted you like you’d trusted him, and the sound of your begging hit him like a lightning bolt. He lost complete control, plunging harder and faster into you, feeling your ass bounce against him, the pulsing below growing harsher and harsher until finally… release.

His embrace around you was suffocatingly strong as he spilled himself within your walls, sure the grip of his fingers would leave marks to find in the morning. Not that you minded. As the last of his energy dwindled into slackening thrusts, you again felt the dotting of small, sweetened kisses touch your skin, lining the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” Paul awed, still tracing his palm over your bare flesh. “That was… amazing.”

About to chuckle at his lack of originality, a worrying thought sparked. “Oh my god!” You spun on your heels to encounter a bewildered expression. “The security cameras! They would have filmed everything! Oh god, I’m so fired.”

To your confusion, Paul had a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’ve got some experience in surveillance. I can handle it.”

“Huh? You do?”

He kissed the wrinkled portion of your brow. “I work for the NSA. And I could have sworn there was some suspicious activity occurring in these premises in the last… 30 minutes or so.”

Tagging those who might be interested! Sorry if it’s not your jam

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @fathersonandhouseofgucci @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza @millenialcatlady

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories · 4 years ago

Text

In The Tongues of Men and Of Angels

Image above from Cassius Corrigan's instagram

A/N: Here rests a short filth. (18+!) Please note before proceeding, however.

The conversation surrounding religion is nuanced and complicated. The motivation behind this fic was much more simple: a bitch saw Ewan Mcgregor as a hot priest and got to work. Although there is a religious backdrop, please be advised the following is smutty smut and is likely not the best read if you’re offended by heresy.

Also know if you don’t appreciate the power imbalance surrounding some stories like these, I don’t either, and this is a story of consenting adults on equal standing.

Pairing: Priest! Obi-Wan x female reader

Also note: unprotected sex (please be wise irl lovelies!)

The passcode to get in the backdoor is 1132. You know it has to be a scripture reference, but you’ve looked in every 11th book that had a 32nd verse and nothing met the explanation of “his favorite verse.” There’s irony, certainly, in the fact that had been your motivation to crack open the book.

There’s something dreary and heavy about the wood-panelled walls and old carpet of the hall that leads to his study, something about the place that doesn’t make your skin feel right, like the walls themselves rather than god would condemn what they witness.

The minute you open his door, you have to wonder if it’s the same place. The decor is just as outdated, just as heavy, but his smile takes up too much light for the oppressive room to have its power.

He closes his journal of notes when he sees you; he leaves the holy book open. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Must pleasure always be owed for?”

There’s only a brief flash of recognition of your verbiage’s implication before his practiced impassive expression washes him in neutrality. He gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk in invitation. “Perhaps not.” Leaving his own chair, he takes the one next to you. “Tardiness, however, is almost always. You’re aware service starts in thirty minutes?”

You tap your phone to indicate the time. “Twenty-eight, actually.”

He doesn’t approach. No, that isn’t how it’s been between you two. It could be a multitude of things. The guilt, maybe, but no matter his profession that never seemed to fit him well enough for him to wear it with any conviction. Much more likely is him knowing that as well as this setup can be the stage for fetish, there’s far worse associated.

He waits for you to initiate, and you do so softly, even though you know he’ll meet you and more once you make contact.

There’s safety in this sacrilege, in his arms. He’s always seen to that.

You tip your forehead down to his, standing over where he’s seated, and he hums, closing his eyes.

He opens them again when you trace your hand down his face, trying to commit his features to the memory in your fingertips.

Down past his lips, the stubble on his jaw, the little bit of his neck not covered by clothing.

You slide your finger along the top of the hem. “Leave the collar.”

You’re not sure if the faint raise in brow is indicative of interest or if it’s a hint patronizing. You’re not sure which shoots heat down your spine.

Your thighs take their place on either side of his, your hands take their place in his hair, and it’s only then his move to action, long fingers tracing up your sides.

Is it playing with his hair in and of itself that gets the start? Or the thought that not even half an hour away is when he’ll need it back to its proper state for Mass? Where you’ll pretend to walk in once again, and greet him in passing with a slight nod and “Father Kenobi” before finding your seat. Could you ask to not clean him off of you? Could you leave his spend to run down your thigh throughout the service? Rub your thighs together under the sound of his voice teaching holiness?

Questions for later.

Now.

You bunch the hair at the back of his head to get his eyes up to yours.

“Be good, and I’ll take it off.”

It’s half a joke, half a promise.

He smiles like he has the exact plan on how to do just that either way.

Brushing his fingers at your temple, he asks, “Will you lie back for me then? On my desk?”

He helps you onto it, warm hands guiding your hips right to where he needs them and helps you out of your pants before kneeling, pressing kisses into your thighs.

The first kiss to your mound gives a full body shudder, and the second kiss to your lips knocks the arms supporting your upper body, making you lie back in truth. As his tongue parts your lips, your hands scrape his desk for something to anchor in, your head lolling to the side. Your vision allows nothing in focus with your heavily lidded eyes, but you can make out the shape of the book left open, the worn lettering of the title just enough.

There should be shame, you suppose. But you can’t muster any. Not when his tongue presses hot, open strokes to your clit. Not when he adds a thick finger and then another into you and you have to bite your arm to not cry out.

There’s nothing about this that wasn’t meant to be.

He stands again to get a better angle for his fingers, curling until he finds that spot inside you that has you soaking his fingers.

“Precious girl,” you hear him say.

When your arms feel some semblance of strength again, you push up to press your lips to his, gliding your tongue across his bottom lip, the taste of yourself still lingering.

He’s gentle, so gentle, but his movements are certain as he kisses you in fullness, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other gives gentle strokes to your now overly sensitive pussy.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips once you’ve pulled back just far enough to breathe, undoing his collar as promised. He’d be happy to just leave it at this, and he has many times before.

He nods, and your hand clashes against his at the fastenings of his pants, and you both give a small laugh.

A gentle push to his firm chest is all he needs to know to sit again, for you to straddle his lap and start to settle onto his cock.

You like to take your time for this part, letting yourself savor the stretch, the fullness, his noises he can never seem to completely bite off. But that’s when you have time.

It helps that you’re devastatingly wet for him, when you sink most of the way onto him in one motion. He lets out something between a shout and a snarl into the side of your neck, and you only worry briefly about the soundproofing of the walls. It’s hard to concentrate on such trivial things when he starts lightly biting the lobe of your ear. “Slow, darling.”

“Time,” is all the explanation you give for your defiance, but you wait for his nod to push down even more.

You’re fairly certain you hear him curse under his breath, and his fingers grip hard into your hips to steady you. Or maybe himself.

When he starts rolling his hips up, you know you can take him harder.

The wet smack of where your skin meets his fills the room, and it would be obscene if not for how sincere and full his eyes are as they look up at you.

You rest your cheek against his, trying not to shake with the overload of sensation.

You feel the tears before you see them, and you stop, instantly pulling back in concern, but he only smiles and shakes his head, brushing his fingers over your lips again.

He rolls up into you twice more and groans out his pleasure against your neck.

You hesitate to pull off of him, but he has to go. Time. He doesn’t seem to be ashamed, though. Shame wasn’t something he dealt in or cowered to. Does heaven know they have a traitor in their midst?

He kisses you sweetly and wipes the mess of both of you off his pants and hands. “Come to my house? Later? That we might have time. And that I needn’t clean you off my clothes?”

You nod, and you kiss him deeply once more.

He grabs his notes, his bible. “I’ll be thinking on you.”

*****

You can indeed feel his spend on your thighs as you listen to the message.

The multi colored light from the stained glass lights his hair in a halo-esque glow, and his voice fills the room and your heart.

He reads from Philipians, but he says the words without looking down to the book.

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest…”

A quick scan of the room, and you notice the congregation is split, some with heads down reading their own text, some looking to him.

When you look back up, he’s looking directly at you.

“...whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

*****

1 Corinthians 13:2

“ If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”

#father daddy #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x female reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan fanfic #obi-wan fanfic #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan x female reader #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #ewan mcgregor

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yamigooops · 4 years ago

Photo

under the sheets

pairing: bokuto x fem!y/n

warnings: 18+, breath play, fingering, praise kink (receiving)

words: 2.3k

“We’re just playing hide and seek / It’s getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you /

- “Play Date” by Melanie Martinez

a/n: alright sinners, this is the first actually explicit smut I’ve written and I think I’ve officially fallen down the rabbit hole. If you have any spicy requests PLEASE send them my way hehe

“Ten! Nine!” His voice echoed through your house. You rushed up the stairs as quietly as you could, looking desperately for a place to hide.

“Eight!” The bedroom! Surely, you’d find a good place there. You tiptoed across the wood floors as fast as possible, opening and shutting the door nearly silently. “Seven!”

Surveying the space, you rushed to the closet. It was a walk in with your clothes lining one side, and Bokuto’s lining the other. You tried squeezing into the back corner, beneath the clothes and behind a small cupboard. “Six! Five! Four!” Much to your dismay, it didn’t take you long to realize you weren’t going to be able to squeeze into the small space. Hurriedly, you turned back into the main room and scrambled for an alternative hiding spot.

“Three!” Sighing, you jumped onto the large bed and pulled the covers over your head, trying to make them as flat as possible. “Two!” You pressed yourself as far into the bed as you could, knowing that as soon as he walked into the room, he’d be able to make out your form beneath the comforter.

“One!” He shouted with finality. “Ready or not, here I come!” You heard his footsteps moving around downstairs, and felt your chest constrict with anticipation. The two of you had recently gotten married and moved into this new house. It still amazed you that you were with him sometimes, he was just so perfect and wonderful.

Both of you had the day off from your obligations and had spent the day lazing around together. Getting restless, he decided that you would play a game of hide and seek because “it’s for adults too,” as he said. You had done a coin flip to see who would hide first, and he came up with a new condition.

“This will be adult hide and seek. Whenever one of us finds the other within two minutes, they get to do whatever they want to the other. How’s that sound?” He murmured the words against your neck as you twined your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Mmm, sounds… rewarding,” you whispered, a knot forming in your stomach. You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted him to find you within the time limit.

“Are you in the closet?” You heard the closet by the front door open and shut.

“In the kitchen maybe?” There were footsteps, then another pause. “Nope, not there either. Let’s try the living room.”

You could imagine him checking under all of the blankets and behind the couch, then the pout that probably adorned his perfect lips when finding you were nowhere to be seen. “Y/N~,” he drawled your name in a whine. “Where are you baby girl, don’t you wanna have some fun with me?” A small grin stretched over your lips as you heard him running up the stairs.

The door to the bedroom opened as he whined again. “Come on princess, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” His footsteps paused at the door, seemingly out of hesitation, and you were sure he was about to pull the sheets from your body. Instead, he moved over to the closet.

“Hmm, I wonder if you’re in here,” he drawled and opened the door. Surely there couldn’t be much time left on the timer that he had, and you knew that you could make it just a few more seconds. “Aww, nooo. I thought for sure you’d be in there,” he whined. You swore you heard a joking tone in his voice as he stood in the closet. You bit into your bottom lip to keep from sighing or giggling

Suddenly, the comforter was torn away from your body, leaving just the light grey bedsheet covering your body. You hadn’t heard his footsteps approach the bed, and the action almost gave you a heart attack. “Dang, not under there,” he huffed. “I wonder…” his voice trailed off, and you heard a rustle then he was there beside you beneath the sheet.

Just as the timer went off.

“Found ya,” he smirked. The look of adoration and possession in his eyes made your stomach flutter as you reached up to stroke his cheek.

“That you did,” you grinned. You couldn’t deny you were excited to see what he had in store for you.

Shifting beneath the fabric, he crawled over to position himself above you, his hair mussed by the sheet and forming a little halo around his head. His muscular arms framed your head, his hips hovering above yours as he smirked down at you.

You reached up a hand and placed it on the back of his neck, gently pulling him down to your lips. He paused just above yours, breath hot against your skin. “Whatever I want, right?” he whispered, seeking your confirmation, which you gave in the form of a small nod. The smirk that spread over his lips made you question whether or not you should have given it.

Instead of placing his lips against yours, he placed a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down your neck to come rest on your collarbone. He started sucking there, using his teeth to graze the tender skin to make his mark more prominent. Meanwhile, one hand brushed the hair from your face and neck, while the other trailed from your shoulder slowly down over your chest, then your stomach, to come rest on your hip. His fingers played with the waistband of your shorts, and you sighed in anticipation.

“You remember our safe word right, baby?” he murmurs against your skin. Your eyes open and you look down in suspicion but confirm that you remember it. “I want to try something a little new, so if you don’t like it don’t hesitate to say so alright?” He looks up at you in anticipation, and you know that his words are sincere. If you didn’t like what was happening, he would stop in a heartbeat.

Sliding his hand down from your hair, he placed his fingers gently on either side of your throat. “Do you trust me?” Bokuto looked at you with such tenderness and concern, and you knew in that moment that you would let this man do whatever he wanted with you.

“I trust you,” you nodded. A small smile appeared on his lips, and he used his other hand to roughly push down your shorts. You helped him, wanting the fabric off as soon as possible. His long fingers were cool against your hip as he grazed his fingernails down your bikini line toward your heat.

“If you can’t speak, but need to stop, tap my arm three times, got it?” He wanted to make sure everything went right, so he knew he needed to set up guidelines beforehand. The last thing he wanted was to go too far in the heat of the moment and end up hurting you. You were a bit taken aback by this request, as you had always been able to verbalize your limits in the past. You nodded however, coaxing a wicked grin from his lips.

His fingertips reached your core, already slick just from your hushed conversation and the way he looked in the half light. “Oh, darling look at this. You’re already dripping for me and I haven’t even done anything yet,” he growled, placing his lips beside your ear and nipping at the lobe. “God, I love you so much.”

And with that, he suddenly plunged his middle finger deep inside you, getting a sweet exclamation from you as you accommodated the feeling. His mouth worked at your ear, sucking and biting until you were sure the skin there was crimson with his passion. Just as you got accustomed to his finger inside of you, there was a new sensation.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Bokuto’s hand around your throat was constricting ever so gently, easing you into his fantasy step by step. “Is this alright darling?” The nod from you was permission to continue. You were forced to take longer, fuller breaths than you normally would, and as his hand got marginally tighter, you started noticing a difference. You tangled your hands in his hair, hips rutting against his hand begging for more, more contact, more speed, more force.

Pausing in his grip on your throat, he grinned down at you. “Let’s move on to the next step, love,” he murmured, capturing your mouth with his. You gave a labored gasp as he finally placed the pad of his thumb up against your clit, giving it the attention it so desperately desired. Between the pressure on your core and the pressure on your neck, you felt weighed down by this man you loved so dearly. And it wasn’t bad, if you were being honest.

“Squeeze tighter,” you whispered against his mouth. He pulled back a tad to look at you with slightly widened eyes as he silently asked for confirmation. You nodded, and he obeyed. His grip tightened a bit more, and you could feel the blood in your neck pounding against his flesh. The pressure from his fingers sent a thrill down your spine, causing your hips to buck up into his. You ran your fingers down his chest then up around to his back, your fingernails making contact with the smooth skin there.

“Oh god baby, you’re doing so well,” he grunts, pushing his slick fingers into your pussy with more vigor. “You’re so perfect, such a perfect match for me.” He moved above you slightly, and you felt how hard he was as his clothed length brushed against your stomach.

Your breathing was getting labored now, coming in deep rasps as you shifted needily against his hand. “Fuck, you look so pretty with my fingers wrapped around your throat,” he growled, his fingers pulsing in and out of you faster now. “You get a little break for being so pretty,” he cooed, his grip easing up. His fingers came to caress your face, running from forehead to chin as he stared at you in adoration.

“Don’ stop Bo,” you whined, grabbing his wrist and tugging it back toward your neck.

“Be patient baby doll, I had to give you a break so I could hear the sound you make when I do this.” The smirk on his face was devilish as he plunged his fourth finger deep inside you. You groaned, back arching off the mattress and eyes rolling back in pleasure. It was just what you needed, as he curled the digits and continued pressing roughly into your clit. “See, that was well worth the break,” he chuckled, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth.

His fingers snaked their way back around your throat, and he eased them back to the pressure they were at before he released you. The lack of oxygen was making your head spin, and when paired with the pleasure of his fingers at your pussy, you felt yourself getting drunk off of him.

“I’m gonna go a little tighter now, don’t forget the taps,” he hissed into your ear. You grunted in affirmation, and felt his hand constrict your airway further. Only a thin stream of air got past him now, and you had to drag in each breath. You thought to yourself that if he went any tighter you would tap out. But for now, the asphyxiation was doing wonders to your body.

The tightness in your stomach spread throughout your entire body, as if every muscle in your body were getting ready to spring. You let out a pathetic whimper, and he moaned into your ear. “That’s it baby doll, ride my fingers like only you can. I want you to fall apart, I want you to coat my whole hand in your sweet come.” His voice was driving you closer and closer to the edge, and you knew the release was coming any moment now.

Just as you found yourself having serious difficulty breathing, he slid up his index finger and pinched your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves between his fingers. You came undone, back spasming, nails raking down his back and head thrown back. He snatched his hand off your throat and you gasped in a full breath of air, the rush of oxygen simply enhancing your high as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you to ride it out.

Your chest heaved, brushing his as he gazed down at you in wonder. “God, Y/N, you are just… incredible. Fuck you’re such a trooper, my pretty girl.” His lips pressed chastely against your forehead as his hand slipped beneath the small of your back and pressed you up against him.

“Was kinda fun,” you admitted, eyes shut as you recovered from the high. “I wouldn’t want to do it all the time but that’s certainly an option from here on.”

You opened your eyes to look up at him as he didn’t answer. There was a glimmer in his eyes and his mouth was curled into a precious smile that melted your heart.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ve kind of had a fantasy about that for a few years now but was always too… shy to ask about it, I guess,” he admitted. The thought of him being too shy to ask anything made you grin, and you pulled him down by the jaw to kiss you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, brushing the fabric that still draped over him. You reached up and pulled it down, breathing in the fresh, cool air that replaced the hot, sex-filled air you were breathing in.

“Give me a little time to recover, ok? Then it’s my turn to do whatever I want to you,” you grinned against his mouth.

“Only if you find me,” he winked.

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