#thread: my strangling fingers wrapped around tight

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

a 141 x reader where they realize they did hurt you after 'that thing'?

Ahhh yes I can do this! Thanks for the request!!

I'm getting over a bit of writers block. I hope these are okay!!!

141 + König × Reader Where They Hurt You During Sex

Warnings: mentions of sex, pain, mentions of discomfort, crying and swearing. -ends in fluff

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon had a tough week. He had so much bent up aggression and stress that he was desperate to release. He found you in the shower, and felt his cock hardening in his pants. He was quick to discard his clothes and join you, and not long after, he was taking you from behind as the warm water beat down on his back.

Simon was pounding into you, setting a brutal pace you weren't used to with him. He was never particularly gentle during sex, but he was never aggressive toward you.

Tears sprung in the corners of your eyes, as each time his cock slammed back into you, it sent waves of pain throughout your body. You let out a small wail, and Simon had mistaken it for a sound of pleasure. "That's it, baby."

His grip on your hips tightened, and you let out a scream as the pain began to be unbearable. You choked out a small sob. "Simon! Stop!"

Simon immediately paused his movements, his cock ripping out of you. "Baby? Are you okay?"

You let out a small sob as the pain slightly lessened, but your insides still ached deeply, and the bruises on your hips began to form angrily. You didn't say a word as you just shook your head.

Simon's heart shattered as he quickly turned off the water and ran out of the shower to get a towel.

He came back quickly and wrapped it around you, helping you out of the shower. He pulled you close to him. His grip was tight around you. "I'm so sorry."

You leaned into his chest as you regained your breath and listened to his rapidly beating heart. "It's okay, Si."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have gone that hard. I took my stress out on you, and I'm sorry." He rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your wet hair.

You pulled away and looked up at him with a small smile. "Simon. It's alright, I promise."

Simon picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently. You gave a playful protest, pushing at his shoulders. "I'm all wet, I'll get the sheets soaked!"

"I'll throw some fresh ones on later. Just let me hold you for a while." He murmured as he moved to lay behind you, pulling you into him. "I promise I won't ever hurt you again."

Johnny MacTavish-

Johnny had wanted to try a new sex position tonight, one he'd stumbled upon in his "research" when he was on missions.

He was on top of you and placed both of your legs on his shoulders as he began to thrust into you. The new position allowed him to go deeper than he'd ever been before, causing quite a bit of discomfort for you. Your legs began to burn from the stretch, and his cock was at angles that had your insides screaming. You let out a strangled cry, pushing on Johnny's chest slightly, and he stopped what he was doing immediately. "Babe?"

He pulled out of you and laid next to you, pulling you into him. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

You sniffled slightly as the pain began to fade, and shoved your head into Johnny's chest. "It's okay."

He enclosed his arms around you and peppered your forehead with kisses. "I'm so sorry, I should've noticed you were in pain."

"I didn't say anything. It's not your fault." You said as you began to thread your fingers through the hair on his chest.

He nodded slowly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me order us takeout, I won't have you cooking for us tonight."

"Johnny, it's really okay. You don't need to, buy." You started before Johnny pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Babe, it's the least I can do. We can gorge ourselves on crappy food while watching that horrible rom com you love so much." He gave a cheeky smile before sliding off the bed to grab his phone.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you Johnny. I love you."

"I love you too, babe. More than you know. Now, be a good pet, and let me make it up to you." He chuckled before dialing your nearest pizza shop.

John Price-

John had you bent over your ass firmly in the air as he forced himself into you from behind. He was eager tonight. It had been a while since the two of you were together, and he hadn't prepped you as well as he should've.

His cock was stretching you uncomfortably, and each time he trusted into you, there was a horrible stinging from your hole.

"J-John." You squeaked, your voice coming out hoarse.

John took it as a sign to keep going, and you let out a loud screech as he picked up his pace. Unable to get any words out, your hand flailed wildly behind you, and John immediately stopped. "Love?"

You let out a sob as he pulled himself out of you, the relief being immediate for you. Your breathing slowed as you regained your senses.

John was quiet, his eyes watching your every move. He felt horrible, his own needs had overshadowed yours, and now you were hurt because of it.

You laid down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest. "C'mere, John."

He shook himself of his self-loathing thoughts and pulled you into his arms, settling himself behind you. "I'm so sorry, baby. I was blinded by my own needs. I didn't think to check on you. Let me make it up to you."

"It's alright, hun." You said softly, hugging onto your husband's arms. "Just hold me and I'll be alright."

John stayed with you like that for hours, rubbing at your flesh softly and peppering kisses to your shoulder. He constantly whispered his apologies, and soft "I love you's" until you both fell asleep cuddled together.

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, John making it very clear he wanted to do what he could to make it up to you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle barely made it through the door before he'd jumped your bones. He'd been away for a week for some training and was beyond desperate for you.

He'd ripped off your clothing and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his midsection. His kiss was bruising, and needy, a clash of teeth and tongue as he singlehandedly pulled down his pants, freeing his cock.

He'd shoved into you with fervor, pounding up into you, effectively fucking you up into the wall. You cried out as your legs tightened around his waist, egging him on.

He walked toward the couch and laid the two of you down rather harshly, and the back of your head smacked off the wooden arm of the couch. Your hand flew to your head and loud out a small squeal. "Ow!"

"Fuck! Kid, I'm so sorry." Kyle pulled away and crouched down to you to inspect your head. His heart sank as he felt a small bump forming already. "I was going too fast, I should've slowed down."

You looked at him for a moment before erupting in a fit of laughter. Kyle sat confused, watching as your body wracked from your giggles. "Y/N?"

"It's fine! It's fine." You managed to get out through your giggles. "Phew, never had that one happen before."

As you clearly didn't seem to be bothered, Kyle allowed himself to chuckle as well. "Are you sure you're okay? I can go get an ice pack."

"I'm fine, promise. I'd be better if you finished what you started." You threw him an overly dramatic wink and beckoned him closer to you.

And who was Kyle to say no? Not that he didn't insist on icing your head later. (He forced you to sit still for nearly 20 minutes as he iced your head, and pressed a half dozen kisses to your lips as an apology)

König-

You woke up with a wince as you rolled over in bed, your sides aching. You sat up in bed, waking König up next to you. "Go back to sleep, baby. Just going to take a shower."

You peeled your shirt off your body, revealing a slew of bruises lining your hips in the shapes of fingerprints. You hissed slightly as the movement caused your bruises to ache.

This was not missed by König, however, who was watching on from the bed in horror. Was he truly that rough with you?

"M-maus." His voice came out shaky as you turned to him. "I hurt you."

Your heart broke at the sight of him. It was clear he was on the verge of tears, as his bottom lip was quivering slightly. "It's okay, K��. It looks worse than it is."

"Please, don't lie to me." He begged, approaching you slowly. "I hurt you."

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It truly did look worse than it was, and you wouldn't lie, and say that König wasn't rougher than usual last night.

He got to his knees in front of you and inspected the bruises lining your abdomen. He placed gentle kisses on each bruise before his eyes landed on yours. "Please forgive me, I didn't know I was hurting you."

"König, love, it's truly okay. I'm okay." You gave him a warm smile, but he shook his head. He walked past you and made his way to the bathroom. You could hear the rub running before you heard him call your name.

You walked into the bathroom to find him drawing you a bubble bath. He turned to you with a sad smile. "Water should be warm, climb on in."

He helped you into the water, before crouching down beside you as he watched you settle in the water.

"König, come in. It's alright, I'm not mad at you at all." You gestured to the tub with a warm smile. You knew he was beating himself up.

"I'm mad at myself, Maus." He looked down at his hands in shame. "I promised never to hurt you."

"König, get in here right now before I make you." You chuckled, trying to ease the mood. "Need my giant boyfriend to be a headrest for me."

He blinked a few times before looking up at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Of course."

He was quick to discard his clothes and climbed into the tub behind you, pulling your frame into him gently. "Ich liebe dich so sehr, Engel." (I love you do much, angel)

König spent the rest of the day attached to your hip. He'd insisted on making you a cup of coffee and toast and even went as far as pulling out your chair for you to sit down. He made certain he'd make it up to you, one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ahh not one of my better ones, but I hope you enjoy!🫣🩷

[cleewii]

rating: R18+

cw(s): 18+ content/MINORS DNI. sub! izuku, dom+gn! reader, izuku is into being called your wife, everyone is sort of a freak here

wanna make a housewife outta IZUKU.

i mean, it’s all just teasing at first. the occasional comment meant to pull that rosiness out of his cheeks whenever he makes you dinner or does your laundry for you.

“you’d make a good wife, izuku.” paired with a laugh that grows with the way his face blooms afterwards.

it’s all jokes, and he knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but slowly the jokes become more and more frequent. calling him your trophy wife, cute little housewife, telling him how pretty a ring would look on his finger.

when you have him laying against your chest, comfortable between your thighs, the jokes keep coming, even after you’ve already fucked him tender and dumb.

“y’could be my cute lil’ wife, you know.”

the soft feel of your lips against his skin has him shuddering a bit. the feeling only just feathers along his neck, then below his ear, until eventually your pressing kisses trailing across his temple.

“just stay home and look pretty f’me. never have to do all that horrible hero work.” your finger slides down from his soft cheek to his chin, turning his head to face you, all the while he’s staring into your eyes with a glazed over, fucked out expression that has a smile spreading across your face. “wouldn’t you like that, honey?”

“uh huh,” he nods, though the words aren’t reaching his brain. there’s only the light post-orgasm buzz warming him up inside, not a single thought can come through. he’d say yes to anything you’d propose right now, because in his eyes you’re divine, and he is nothing if not devoted to you. “please…”

“sweet thing,” you coo, “of course you would.”

“i’d get home from work n’ you’d be makin’ dinner while wearing that pretty ring i’d get you. as a present, i could bend you over the counter and fuck you on it, just like that…wouldn’t that be nice?”

the blood is starting to make its way back into his cock, and all he can do is stare wide eyed and stupid.

“could dress you up all nice and introduce you to my boss ‘n coworkers. And when we leave the party i’ll screw your pretty brains out in the backseat of the car for being so good f’me.”

you giggle a little, and it’s a sound so delicate and innocent he can hardly wrap his head around the filth coming out of your mouth. but that doesn’t stop the way it twists him up inside and leaves him squirming against you.

“bet you’d love that, huh baby?”

“Y-yes…yeah…oh—,” he groans. “please.” his face is starting to get hot, the rest of his body is already beginning to ache with the need searing in is cock. your words paint pictures in his mind that almost leaves spit trailing under his chin, and he’s not quite sure what to do. beg, cry, whine, it’s horrible, the way you toy with him. “please!”

“what’re you sayin’ please for?” Your fingers trail over his bare chest and teas across his pert nipples. “c’mon angel. use your words.”

“f-fuck…fuck me….!” he gasps. “please! make me…make me yours I—I wan’ it! i wan’ it! wanna be y—yours! please…please…please!”

“yeah? you wanna be mine that bad?”

“yes! oh…oh fuck—! yes!”

“but you’re already mine.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “tell me what you really want.”

his breath catches in his throat and it comes out a strangled whine, one that forces another shade of pink across his face.

‘what you really want’ it’s absurd, it’s embarrassing, but the longer you tease him the more he unravels, and he can feel himself slipping. “don’t—“

“oh c’mon angel…humor me won’t you?”

his lips press together tight as he stares at your hands, which lay on either side of his hip bones, thumbs tracing light circles against his skin. it’s a tantalizing feeling, a dull ache forming in his chest that threatens to bubble up into his throat, and he’s trying with the last threads of self control he has left to keep it at bay.

“do you hate the idea that much?”

“no!” he cries, shaking his head like he’s desperate. “n—no I….I….”

it’s too much. this feeling is too much, your touch is too much, the idea is too much.

But he loves it. he holds onto it like a secret he’ll only share with himself, but with you prodding this way, he’s worried he’ll spill.

He just can’t admit that he loves the joke a little too much.

[bardic-inspo]

aeterna nostalgia

chapter two: crimes of passion

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav

🩸Chapter One |🩸Chapter Three

🩸Full Chapter List |🩸BG3 Fic Masterlist

Series Summary:

Astarion’s carefully crafted empire is thrown into upheaval when his bride falls victim to a modify memory spell. Without any memory of her lover or her own vampirism, his dark consort is a threat to both herself and her sire. 

Astarion must win back her trust and affections, all while hunting down whoever sought to break the most powerful bond in Faerûn.

Chapter Summary: Astarion determines what spell struck his consort.

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3

“‘I truly loved her,’ the vampire admitted quietly, pain showing on its normally stoic face…But then it seemed to rally its strength, and its chill gaze nailed me to my chair. 

‘I misjudged her totally,’ the vampire continued, its voice now virtually emotionless. ‘...And do you know? I think the pain I felt was greater than hers.’”

-Van Richten's Guide to Vampires

“W-who are you?” Naomi stammers. 

She lies stiff as a corpse in his Astarion’s arms. Mindlessly, his fingers stroke her bloodied hair from her face. His brow knits in disbelief. “What did you just say?” 

Fear floods her wide eyes. Astarion feels it wrapped tight as a noose around his neck. It seeps into the straining threads of their bond, starting a slow drip of his own trepidation. 

His spawn, Emilia, staggers into the throne room, chest heaving. “Master -- the spell, it--”

“Which spell?” He says, his tone cutting. “What was that? What did the wretch do to her?”

His burning stare shifts to the culprit in question. Or rather, what’s left of them. Sand spills from the sleeves of the crumpled, lifeless robe. It’s all that remains of the wizard who cast ill will upon his consort. 

Rage scorches Astarion’s stomach, flaring with his nostrils. They sting with the acrid stench of ash and stale magic. Pieces of parchment smolder nearby -- bits of the spell scroll. Under his eye, Emilia stoops to salvage them, snuffing the flames with the heel of her shoe.

Instinct tells him his other spawn still lives. He’s acutely aware of Zylar’s unconscious shape sprawled in his periphery. A cursory glance at the human shows no wounds, and no sign of a weapon drawn. It makes Astarion’s lip curl with disdain. Did the Fist lift even a finger to defend his mistress?

What answers might Astarion find, prying the nails free of those same fingers?

“What did you do to me, vampire?!” Naomi spits.

Astarion’s stomach plummets, dropping with his dumbfounded gaze. His consort glares back at him, defiant, her own fangs bared. A cold, strangled laugh bursts from Astarion’s lips. “What an utterly ludicrous thing to say!”

“What I meant to say before, Master,” Emilia interjects hesitantly, “is that she may not be herself. I’ll need a few moments to work out the specific spell. But that kind of magic isn’t meant to harm anyone physically. It was meant to ail her mind.”

Astarion’s laugh twists into a simmering snarl. The elf flinches, but says nothing further as she kneels nearby, stretches out her hands, and begins the incantation for identify. Her dark hair shifts to hide her expression, but Astarion’s sure he sees her trembling. No matter. There’s only one other person in this room who does matter.

“My poor, poor consort,” he hums, soft and cloying, mulling over the stricken state of her mind. 

His own thoughts snag on the thorn-sharp fear turning their link into a prickling, untenable tether. Tenderly, he reaches out to graze her consciousness the same way he might tuck her hair behind her ear. But the surface of her thoughts is scalding. He bites back a hiss, recoiling from the connection. 

They’ve had ill feelings before. They’ve shared rage, aired grievances, vented disappointments. All of it dissolves in the balm of their bond. Through it, he feeds her consolation. Comfort. And in the same manner, she soothes the fleeting but many frustrations of the most powerful vampire the world has ever known.

At times, she’s been reluctant. At others, he’s been stubborn. But sooner or later, with or without coaxing, they both succumb to the salve that is each other. 

Coaxing it is, then. Her mind hurts. Astarion can feel the throb of the pain echo back inside his own skull. His presence in hers must feel like pressing into the wound. If only she could grit her teeth past the ache long enough to feel the healing he could bring. 

Be brave for me, darling. He thrusts the thought towards her, a sweat sprouting on his brow with the effort. It bobs back against his will, repelled towards him as the like ends of magnets would be.

 Naomi’s eyes flit to the wizard, narrowing, before boring into his again. 

“Don’t you fret,” he coos, a tight smile upon his face. “We’ll have you sorted in--”

BANG.

Thunder drums against his heart, bounding erratically against his ribs, cracking against the back of his head. The noise and pain of it is brief, but the shock sticks like a knife. The whole room shudders with the impact, gritty trails of debris pattering down the sides of the wide pillars.

Incredulous, Astarion cranes his neck upwards, peering down his own heaving chest and splayed legs. Naomi’s palm is still outstretched, still pulsing with the booming magic that sent him reeling. Her jaw sets with steely determination. His hangs slack as he blinks back at her.

“Darling,” he huffs, propping himself upright, “There’s no need for--”

The air warps before his eyes. Reedy noise bursts in his ears before it’s swallowed by a swelling, resounding--

BANG.

The nearest pillar splits in the center, marble breaking as easy as tree bark. The crack races from the floor to the ceiling. A looming shadow falls across his face. Astarion rolls from it. Stone slams the throne room floor like an angry fist. The pillar shatters to rubble before his eyes.

“Oh, gods below!” He snaps, scrambling to his feet. He dusts his trousers off irritably. 

What the fuck is she even casting with, anyways?

Ah. He catches the glint of it, on the ground, strewn among the rock: the little gilded harmonica, set with onyx inlay, glittering with diamonds. A trinket some might call priceless. Something small and subtle enough, she could keep it on her person always. He’d given it to her so she could always have the full might of her magic within reach at a moment’s notice.

She must’ve dropped it when she released the spell. She must’ve been staggered by her own strength. Astarion clicks his tongue. Poor, poor Naomi.

Her eyes meet his, and then dart to the harmonica. She lunges. He’s faster. If he didn’t feel so deeply for her plight, he might’ve relished her helpless gasp. Her implement crunches to pieces beneath his heel.

“Don’t you worry, dear,” he sneers. “You’ll have another. Once you’ve come to your senses.”

Naomi recoils, glassy-eyed, sniffling. Astarion sighs tightly, averting his gaze. Still, the sound of her crying needles him relentlessly. Emilia ogles them both, her mouth agape, and her hands far too still for casting.

“What spell is this?!” He demands. “Dominate monster?”

He’s seen such spells turn friends into foes before. He’s used similar tricks to turn a fight in his favor. Something caused Naomi to cast harm his way. Her mind must be ill, indeed. She’d never do something so stupid, otherwise.

The notion stokes the building ire in his belly. Someone meant to play a trick on him. Someone meant to kill his consort in the process. More the fool them. He would never harm a hair on her head. 

“By your bond, she’s immune to anyone’s will but yours,” Emilia says gravely. “It’s not a domination spell.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Naomi sputters.

Astarion speaks past her. “What spell is it, then?!”

Emilia blanches. “I-I don’t know yet master, I--”

“Then stop gawking and finish what you started!” 

Metal scrapes over stone. Astarion’s attention jerks towards the snapping fireplace. A pitying smile lifts his lips.

He moves in a blur and arrives before Naomi can brandish the iron stoker she snatched. For a moment, his fingers close, warm around her cold ones. At once, her grip retracts, the flickering flames dancings in her glare.

He cocks his head. “And what do you think you’ll do with that, hm?”

Her throat bobs. Astarion tenses, watching her lips quiver. But no song spills out, and no spell with it. Instead, she darts towards the open doors.

It’s no matter at all to reach them first.  The doors close with a thud like distant thunder. A loose piece of marble drops from the ceiling in its wake, crashing among the other rubble. Naomi flinches with the impact. As he nears her, she flees again. This time, she scurries towards the credenza in the curtained alcove, seizing a bronze candelabra in a vice grip and wielding it in front of her.

“Cute,” he trills. She glowers under the praise.

Astarion follows at a slow stroll, hands behind his back as he takes long, wandering steps after her. Naomi’s chest heaves with every click of his heel against the marble. He imagines if she still had a heartbeat, it would match his movements like a metronome.

She’s a sight to see, even in this state. She’d gotten dressed, sometime between when he left her at the piano, and when he found her in distress. It’s a shame, really; now, her dress is in a state, too. 

Her black skirt hangs in tatters, the golden hem torn. Blood dries in inky trails down her face, marring the freckles that powder her lilac skin, smearing over the trio of birds tattooed on her left cheek. Ragged waves of white spill free from her braided bun. Her eyes sear like red coals, her pearly fangs bared. In the same room where she slayed a man only hours before, she’s reduced to a bristling, angry alley cat.

It’s the sort of caricature the cattle think of when they picture a vampire’s bride: a pretty, promising thing, plucked from the vine of life, sullied with violence, and enslaved to indelible hunger.

Sand pops beneath his shoes. Astarion comes to an abrupt halt, still several feet away from his bride. He peers down at where he stepped, gaze skimming the glittering flecks dotting the floor. There’s another small pile of sand just a few steps away, far from where the wizard disintegrated.

Did you fight back, my darling? Astarion’s throat thickens. If she did, she still failed.

“Who are you?” She barks again, her throat hoarse. “What do you want with me?!”

Astarion turns towards her slowly, a sudden weight in his jaw, his feet anchored in place. Their bond is a knotted bramble in his chest. Her questions, her distance, her bewilderment -- it all sinks in like thorns.

“Master -- Master!” Emilia shouts.

“Yes?” He says sluggishly, as if surfacing from a deep dream.

“It’s her memory. They’ve modified her memory!”

“I can see that now. How long does it last?”

“Until it’s dispelled. But--”

“Do it now,” he snarls. He can’t suppress his own shudder at the sound, not when it makes Naomi shiver before his eyes.

“I-I can’t! I’ve already tried, the spell is too strong!”

“Try again!”

“You’re not casting anything,” Naomi shouts, voice wavering. “Not until you tell me what’s happening!”

“Of course, my love,” his voice melts at once, his hands open at his sides. Astarion dares a step towards her, and then another. Naomi tracks him warily, as any prey would a predator.

They can’t take her. Not from him. All else is immaterial. Temporary. Her wishes will be sated, her memories restored. But she herself can never be stolen from her sire.

She can never not know of him!

Astarion grits his teeth and braves the bond again. He speaks aloud as if it’s a spell. An incantation that will make way for him in her head, and wake remembrance in her heart. 

“Naomi, my dearest one, it’s all right. You’ve been hurt. But you’re home. And I’m here. I’ll see to you. Just as I always do.”

Like a moth to a flame, she’s drawn to the sound of her own name in his mouth. Her shoulders ease by only an inch. An inch is all he needs; he can turn to mist at a moment’s notice, and slip between the slightest gap. In his mind, he does so now, seeping harmlessly through the prickle of her unease, stroking petal-soft through her thoughts, and filling them with words of soothing.

In the flesh, he stands before her, riding through the ache that comes with the sight of her tears. She blinks back at him, quivering. That simply won’t do. He reaches out a tentative hand towards her cheek.

When they touch at last, he thinks of the melody she played for him just this morning. The smooth crest of the piano, silky like the feel of her skin beneath his. The song poured through her fingertips effortlessly. Just like the effortless, instinctual comfort of his caress. 

Her music is a thread; he lets it weave from his memories through her mind, reeling them together again. Naomi can tame raw magic into songs with her hands, her mouth. Astarion knows only one instrument. She can make the sweetest sounds from just the barest brush of his lips to her ear. But the one he lets filter through her mind now is the soft, contented hum that lives in her head when her hand is in his. When they’re together. Home.

Happy.

He lets the bliss swirl within him, flowing over so it can fill her, too. He’s so taken by the tide of it, he nearly misses the flash before his eyes. 

Dread presses down on him on all sides, sharp and sudden like discordant keys. Her mind tears free of his. The music cuts. Astarion drifts, breathless, weightless, shapeless. 

Mist.

He materializes again, his hand withdrawn to the fresh, hairline slice across his own cheek. A single drop of blood gleams from his finger when he pulls it away. He turns it over, studying the little ruby bead in disbelief.

The candelabra clangs at Naomi’s feet. She’s traded it for his own dagger, stolen from his side as he provided comfort at hers. It’s the same twined blade he’d taken from his own sire: Rhapsody.

“MASTER!” Emilia cries.

Astarion’s head jerks up in time to see the flare of Emilia’s firebolt ripping towards Naomi. Orange light bathes her skin. He smells it as it singes, even before the impact. 

He can feel it scald, as if his own insides are aflame.

“NO!” He roars, lunging towards Emilia. “You vile little--”

A dash of silver whips through the fire like rogue lightning. 

Emilia gags, staggering backward with the dagger’s impact. Blood spurts from her throat in a feeble fountain. Her knees buckle, and then she wilts over, choking as Astarion watches.

Knife-throwing was never Naomi’s forte. Stealing them was. And stabbing with them, sure. But not throwing. He taught her that trick. Before Astarion, she could hardly hit a tree from mere feet away with a thrown blade. Before him, she never would’ve lodged Rhapsody directly into the heart of a vampire spawn at such distance and disadvantage.

He made her swifter. Sharper. Stronger. And set her above all others he made after her.

 He turns towards his panting, panicked bride. Naomi scrambles backwards frantically, seizing the candelabra again in a white-knuckled fist. Her eyes are mirrors of terror. 

He can tell from the look of her, she didn’t know. Didn’t think. It was instinct. She doesn’t remember learning, but her body does. Some locked door, in the back of her mind, houses all the violence she has at her fingertips.

Behind him, Emilia dies a quick death, if a lonely one. He’s certain when it happens, in the same way he knows Zylar yet lives. The master she reaches for saves no sympathy for her.

And even for Naomi, he’s reaching his limits. It takes a concentrated effort to force his tone steady.

“I rather wish you hadn’t done that, dear,” Astarion bites out. 

Naomi clutches her cheek with a muted whimper, the steam still furling through her fingers from the burn.

His eyes widen, the leash on his rage loosening. “You’re hurt!”

He can’t have that. He won’t have that. He has minimal magic in his arsenal, now that his wizard lies slain by his lover.  Which means, for the moment, whatever meddling happened to her memory will remain.

Even if Zylar were to suddenly wake, perhaps Naomi would simply slay him, too. Perhaps Zylar would be stupid enough to harm her as Emilia had, from some misguided, masochistic instinct to play as Astarion’s protector. The thought alone makes his stomach roil. 

What a waste.

Already, Naomi strings a breathless song beneath her lips, one he hasn’t heard her murmur since their days on the road with tadpoles in tow. She’s not as strong of a caster without her instrument implements, but she’ll fight until she can’t. He knows this. He knows that steely, stubborn glint in her eye. 

She’ll kill his other spawn, his servants, whoever tries to stop her. She can’t kill Astarion. She’ll hurt herself trying. More than she’s already hurt.

He can’t have that.

Astarion takes a step towards her, heartbeat slamming his ribs hard enough to crack a mere mortal’s. He never told her he could do this. He tried to bury it somewhere she’d never see, but Naomi always had a talent for resurrection. 

Relentlessly, she warmed every cobwebbed and shadowed recess of his mind. Woke his secrets out of the soil, and kept them as her own. He didn’t want her to know he could. Didn’t want her to know he’d never do it.

If you have to, I’ll understand, she’d said one day, unprompted. I trust you. 

He’ll never forget it. They laid sprawled in the gardens, twined in each other, like the ivy wrapped so tightly on the trellises. Astarion with his fingers wound in her hair, Naomi plucking a rose free of its petals, one by one.

I had to, he’ll say, someday, perhaps in just a short few, when this temporary mess is all over. You were hurt. You would’ve hurt yourself. I wouldn’t have it. I’d never hurt you. I lov--

His mouth opens, closes, and opens once more. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “Naomi…”

He hates that he sounds like a fragile spawn again. Something small and sniveling. He hates the word he says instead of the three that dance along the tip of his tongue. He’s rarely said what he longs to aloud. She’s always known it anyway, as well as the back of her hand.

But now, she stares at him scared, as if he’s a stranger. As if he’s a mere monster. As if she isn’t one, too. 

There’s only one word for it.

“...Stop.”

She does at once.

He expected to see the compulsion ripple through her, to hear her gasp before his command took hold, or see the realization snap through her eyes. He doesn’t. His will is instant. The only gasp he hears is his own ragged burst of breath.

The lesser spawn always chafe under his orders. A wince. A hiss. An eye roll. A token display of defiance before total acquiescence. 

Not her. Naomi trusts him. Perhaps that trust still lives in her bones like marrow, even as her mind is void of it. She is a stunning statue at the heart of their throne room, blood and rubble and destruction strewn around her. If it weren’t for the fear frozen in her eyes, skewering him like shards of ice, she’d be perfect.

Astarion stumbles towards her, his forehead coming to rest against her unmoving brow. This time, the chill of her touch offers him no comfort. Instead, he feels the threads of his thoughts slipping, like the weight of her hand leaving his to hang empty. 

The bond doesn’t feel like brambles any longer. At least the sting was a feeling. Instead, it dangles loose within him, over a plummet of unknown, unfathomable depths.

“Rest, my sweet,” he whispers. His voice cracks like glass through the middle.  “This will all be over soon. Everything will be as it was. You’ll see.”

Naomi’s eyes flutter shut as her body drops slack into his waiting arms. The candelabra slides from her limp grip and clatters against the marble. Abruptly, the room is quiet. A grave silence takes his hall. For a few moments, he simply stares at the woman dangling in his grasp. As if, any moment now, she’ll wake as easily as she fell into trance, and pull him from this nightmare, too.

Footsteps barrel down the corridor towards the throne room. The sound shatters that last, fragile hope he clung to. By the time Claude arrives on the threshold, panting with a sweat upon his brow, Astarion feels about ready to break the gnome in front of him just as viciously.

“My Lord,” Claude spews breathlessly,  “the patriars, they-- oh, oh my. Emilia! And the mistress! Is she--?”

“She’ll be fine!” Astarion screeches.

Movement catches his eye -- not Claude cowering, as he should, but Zylar, finally stirring in his periphery. Rage rips through him anew. Astarion rounds on the dazed spawn without hesitation.

“Get. Up.”

Zylar lurches upright like a puppet on a string. For an instant, his head lolls back before it jerks forward with a sickening pop. His eyes are heavy with sleep, unfocused even as the rest of his body reacts, at once, to Astarion’s orders.

Astarion doesn’t hesitate to deliver the next one.

“Go to the overlook. Lock yourself in. Throw the key into the pit.”

Like the shock of cold water, the command rouses Zylar into wide-eyed panic.

“Master--wait -- no! Not that place! I didn’t--”

Astarion’s eyes narrow to slits.

Zylar squirms and sputters and writhes. Suddenly, he straightens, as if he traded his spine for a steel rod. He marches forward, militaristic, and leaves the room without further protest.

“And you,” Astarion sighs, eyes flitting to the gnome ogling him from the doorway. “Go dig yourself a grave.”

He doesn’t bother compelling Claude; the man has always chased this carrot of his own volition.  There’s no doubt in Astarion’s mind Claude will remain a weak, insufferable little cretin so long as he survives. 

But he’ll be a loyal one. And loyalty is something Astarion is suddenly short of.

The day has left Astarion with an ill consort. A dead spawn. Another that’s ineffective at best, traitorous at worst. And a room full of fucking patriars to coddle. He’ll have to return to them soon. He scowls as he peers down at the blood flecking his fine shoes. He’ll need to clean himself up, first.

He steps over Emilia’s seeping corpse, climbs to his own throne, and deposits Naomi there with the utmost care. He lets her head lie against the armrest, legs dangling over the other, while her own seat remains vacant as it always is. As he draws back, Astarion stifles the foreign urge to rub the strange, permeating pain throbbing through his temples. The past hour has been one headache upon another. On a normal day, Claude would be one of them.

It hasn’t been a normal day.

The gnome practically wriggles with glee. “M-Master, you m-mean--?”

“If I didn’t,” Astarion sneers, “I wouldn’t have said it.”

“Thank you, Master! Thank yo-- I-- oh!”

Astarion heard the old crone coming far sooner than Claude did. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Later, he could come up with some excuse the other patriars would believe as to why she left their meeting early.

Thessa Gray was the only one of them that had the gall to demand explanation when Astarion left them so suddenly. The tiefling’s carmine complexion is grayed with age. On a normal day, she’d be too old, too ornery for Astarion to even consider, and nevermind the complications that come with making spawn out of such a notable matriarch right under Duke Ravengard’s nose.

But she’s a sorcerer of some renown. Emilia couldn’t dispel the ill effect on Naomi’s memory. Perhaps Thessa Gray can.

Whatever the tiefling  expected to find when she followed him, it wasn’t this. 

“What in the hells happened here?!” Thessa gasps, a hand flying across her heart.

Astarion can hear it hammering out its last beats at breakneck speed.

“Claude,” Astarion says, wetting his lips. “Dig two graves, won’t you?”

A/N: Naomi is really out of commission for five seconds and Astarion immediately starts turning the town. 🤭

The first bit of this fic focuses more heavily on Astarion POV by virtue of Naomi having A Time, but we will be getting into her POV next chapter. I don’t know if it will end up as an even split or not, but the POV frequencies will fluctuate with the plot.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean the world to me if you let me know you did. 💜

And HUGE thank you to so many Tumblr moots and discord friends who have supported me along the way in drafting this one. 💜

[thismyburnertwn]

"Sex With Me"

Miguel O'hara X F!reader

intimacy never felt so good.

CW: Smut, Teasing, Hitting, Filth, Switch!Reader (let me know if i missed anything)

 

Another thing I love about Miguel is sex is never just sex. Sex is so sensual, so intimate, so erotic with him; the way he touches me in all the right places, the way he's attentive to my every reaction. He fucks me how he loves me, and it makes me so wet.

     His kisses trailed up my leg as he massaged my foot with his large hands, taking his time to manually relax my body. He had lit candles and turned on the diffuser, adding lavender essential oil.

     My hand found his dark hair, my acrylics gliding against his scalp, earning a satisfied hum. My free hand played with his ear, aware of their unusual sensitivity.

      His kisses lingered on my thighs, making a shiver run up my spine. Hands encasing my waist, as if he was measuring with his hands. “Sé que tuviste un día largo, princesa.” His voice was velvety smooth, thick with an accent.

(I know you had a long day princes)

I jumped when he suddenly began licking from the band of my thong to the column of my throat. He went slow, antagonizingly slow.

     My chest rose with deep breaths as he eyed me intensely. His gaze was filled with desire, unmistakably blatant. Though he didn't grant me his lips, he just stared. I fought the urge to look away as a deep blush rose on my cheeks.

     This filled his chest with pride because his lips now held a smile. He let his gaze fall between my legs, allowing himself to loop his finger inside the string of my thong, pulling and letting it snap back in place.

     "So pretty," He mumbled as I flinched. "On your belly, baby," He requested.

     I almost let out a whine in protest, craving his mouth. He sat beside me as I flipped over, still fully clothed watching me with careful eyes.

     His hands found my shoulders, thumbs pressing deeply into the tissue and continuing down. I nearly moaned at the way he worked his hands. It felt like he was releasing every bit of tension in my body.

     Wrapping his hand around the front of my neck he forced me to look at him. A sly smirk played on his lips as he pressed them to mine softly. Pulling away when I tried to deepen it. His eyes searched mine, seeming satisfied with his teasing.

     His brown orbs shone in the dimly lit room. I watched his broad chest rise and fall as he breathed. A tight, white compression shirt stretched over his torso, kissing his skin and hugging his biceps.

     "Take your shirt off," I demanded, desperate to see what was underneath.

     He gave me a pointed look, "Come help me take it off."

     I crawled to him, planting my ass in his lap. Like magnets his hands flew to my ass, holding me in place. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, wasting no time pulling it up and over his head. My red nails complemented his skin as I ran my hand down his chest, feeling every groove. A strangled groan slipped from him.

     He leaned in to capture my lips, left surprised when I pulled away this time, "Kiss me, hermosa."

     (beautiful)

     I wrapped my hand around his thick neck, pulling him against me, my bra a barrier between us. His lips were so close to mine that I could feel his warmth. I took his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging softly before releasing it, "Beg for it."

     His eyes held amusement, "¿Por favor, cariño? ¿Bésame?"

     (Please, baby? Kiss me?)

     God.

     I kissed him, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, hand pressed against his chest. He tilted his head slightly, his nose bumping mine as he deepened the kiss, overpowering me.

     I suddenly didn't feel as in control as I did a mere second ago. It was becoming hard to kiss back as he began to grind me against him. His hands gripped my ass as he dragged me along his bulge. I felt my bra go loose as he unclasped it with one hand, continuing to kiss me with precision.

     My moans began to spill into his mouth and he accepted them with pride. He finally let me go for air when I pressed both my palms to his chest pushing him away. I was drunk off his lips, the taste of him lingering on my tongue.

     He used the opportunity to slide my bra off, leaving me in just my thong, "Look at you," He groaned huskily, hand coming up to grab my breast, thumb gliding over my nipple making me shiver.

He pinched and pulled at the stiff buds, coaxing breathy sighs from lips. My hands roamed his torso whilst his attention was on my breasts. I touched nearly every bump and ridge of his chest, utterly obsessed with his body.

I could feel his bulge through the layers of fabric that separated us, "You excited, my love?" I teased, my hand finding his cheek. I dipped my face to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

"Ti piace prendermi per il culo, eh?"

(You love to fuck with me, huh?)

I just smiled, "Open your mouth." His lips parted allowing me to slip my fingers in. My free hand rested on his bare shoulder as he sucked my them. His tongue lapped around my fingers, taking his time to suck them sensually. My lip was caught between my teeth as I watched him tongue fuck my fingers.

I pulled them out, smearing his saliva all over his lips before pulling him in for a kiss. His tongue caressed the inside of my mouth, tasting me. I wrapped my lips around his tongue, sucking softly.

I could tell it caught him by surprise from his groan. “Chica asquerosa.”

(Nasty girl.)

“Only for you.” A smile curled on his lips at my words. He watched with low eyes as I put the fingers that were just in his mouth into my thong. Mixing his saliva with my wetness I rubbed my clit slowly, "Fuck," A shaky breath left my lips.

"Let me taste you." His eyes were glossed over as he bore a hole into my hand.

“Be patient, Miguel.” I continued to touch myself, denying him. He glared at me with wanting eyes. He reached down to grab my wrist, to which I responded with a slap to his cheek. My fingers curled around his throat before I spoke, “I said wait.”

His tongue ran over his teeth, flashing his fangs. He faked offense to the slap, but I could tell by the way his eyes tinted red it just turned him on more. I was more than aware that Miguel allowed me to do as I pleased, knowing that he could easily overpower me at any moment. And I loved it.

I watched his cheek begin to turn red from the impact, concern filling my body, “Did I hit you too hard, baby?” I asked softly as I paused my move my movements, rubbing his cheek.

“No, I’m okay, cariño.”

(Sweetheart)

“Are you sure?” I turned his face to get a better look.

He let out a laugh, “Estoy bien, mi amor. I’m good, I promise.” Taking my hand into his he placed a gentle kiss on it. “Stop the frowning, sí? You’re not good at playing boss, you’re too sensitive.”

(I’m okay, my love.)

“I’m not,” I grumbled to him, looking away.

“You’re not?” He asked taking my chin into his hand, making me look at him. “Show me then. Muéstrale a papá lo duro que puedes llegar a ser.”

(Show daddy how rough you can get.)

I pushed on his broad shoulders prompting him to lay back, to which he complied. I pressed my lips to his neck, nipping and kissing at the soft skin. His hand found the arch of my back as I sucked a hickey onto his neck. Soothing the now purple mask with my tongue.

I ran my tongue over his Adam’s apple, wrapping my lips around it and sucking. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned quietly.

I trailed up, my nose brushed against his jaw as I left chaste kisses. He all but jumped as I reached his ear. I lightly bit it, gently pulling on the cartilage. I kissed it softly before pulling away. The way he whimpered at the contact was beyond arousing.

But the way he yelled when I bit him hard lit something in me, “Maldito infierno, pequeña perra!” I felt a scorching wave of pleasure roll down my spine.

(Fucking hell, you little bitch!)

“Shut the fuck up,” I demanded, forcing him to kiss me. I swallowed his pained groans, feeling his dick twitch underneath me. I slipped my thong off, balling up the fabric and stuffing it into Miguel’s mouth.

I straddled his torso, bare against the ripples of his abdomen, “You’re so handsome.” I spoke softly, sugary sweet. He jerked under me when my fingers grazed his nipple. “Relax,” I mumbled, pinching the buds. A deep groan reverberated from his chest.

Pt.2???

[smiley-babe]

Best Dealer on Campus

warnings: drug use, mutual pining, unprotected sex, slight dubcon (sex while on drugs), aftercare, praise, squirting, overstimulation, fingering, (Megumi has green eyes in this idc, fight me lol).

notes: this has been heavy on my mind and I needed to get this out. 

weed dealer Megumi who is nonchalant as hell, not easily approachable at all but got the best nugs on the university campus. he’s a well known guy, his dad making their last name famous but apparently gives his son nothing. resulting in him making his own monopoly on the school drugs.

weed dealer Megumi charges everyone full price. no matter how much a pretty girl flirts with him or someone offers to do his homework. but you. you always get a discount of some kind.

weed dealer Megumi who offers to smoke with you one day. you had made a joke that he looks stressed out all the time and asked if he partook in his own supply. he didn’t want to look like a complete stick in the mud so he throws it out there. but in truth he’d seen you before. you’re a regular. always joking or teasing him. he can’t even tell if you’re flirting or being goofy but he likes your energy.

weed dealer Megumi who rolls the perfect blunts, packed tight and pretty. you watch his fingers as he does it and your mind wanders. megumi catches you staring at him and smirks a bit. “trying to learn from the master?,” he asks with a raised brow. “master? yeah okay Megumi.” and even after you tease him about the name he still shows you how he gets the perfect wrap.

weed dealer Megumi gets so high with you that his eyes are low, the whites of them reddening slightly. you’re just as bad, giggling at cheesy jokes on some sitcom you put on. he studies you during this time. he feels ashamed to, not wanting to get caught up in his stupid little feelings. but when you meet his low green eyes all of that restraint goes out the window.

weed dealer Megumi who finds himself leaning into you, nose brushing yours as his eyes flit to your lips. your hands thread through his hair as you look back at him. fuck it. the kiss is slow at first, feeling each other out. as soon as you let out a small moan from how his teeth grazed your bottom lip his hands all over you.

weed dealer Megumi who is quick to have you sprawled out and naked on your couch. his long skinny fingers toy with you, flicking over you clit and watching your cute reactions. “please Megumi. just fuck me…” he has to clench his jaw and keep himself composed because of how needy you sound. instead he focuses on pushing two fingers deep into you, reaching spots that made you see stars.

weed dealer Megumi doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers even after you got off twice and you try to squirm away. leaves a light swat on your cunt when you try to move. “megumi i want you. please,” you beg him incessantly. has him ditching his clothes and lining his aching cock at your entrance. “you sure?” you nod and pull him down for a kiss.

weed dealer Megumi who, when he finally pushes into your pretty pussy, swears he could live there. he starts with a slow roll of his hips, reveling in how your walls convulse around him. when you look up at him it makes you squeeze him even tighter. a light blush coating his cheeks and the way he clenches his jaw, small pants escaping his lips already. his silver chain dangles over you as you hold your legs open for him, hands on the backs of your thighs. 

weed dealer Megumi can’t stop kissing you while he fucks you deep. likes feeling you moan and whine into his mouth. when he pulls from your lips, obscene curses fly out of him. every time he sinks deeper he feels his head fill with nothing but you. the soft pants and whiney moans leaving your body. “so pretty,” he whispers. “so. fucking. pretty. just like this.” he punctuates his words with hard thrusts. 

 weed dealer Megumi who praises you when you cum around his cock, a strangled cry leaving your mouth and tears spilling from your eyes. “just let it out baby. there you go,” he coos, slowing his pace and wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb. who makes you cum again. the third time he makes you squirt. by this time you’re pushing him away weakly and crying out.

weed dealer Megumi pulls out when he cums, spilling it all over your tummy and panting hard. leaves kisses on your face as you both calm down. “you good?,” he asks. your reply is a weak yes as you a smooth a hand through his wild hair. 

weed dealer Megumi who doesn’t make that time the last and eventually builds up the courage to ask you on a date. he definitely never makes you pay for a gram ever again. 

[roanniom]

Ok, hear me out (not a request just a thought I can't get out of my head - do what you want with it!) just crawling up to Eddie where he sits, manspreading on the couch, kissing his legs wherever the rips and holes in his jeans are until you come to the belt - getting it open and just ... swallowing him whole!

Ok hear ME out though.

More Sensitivity

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, groping, knee worship (? Is that a thing? Is this weird? Lol I don’t care), hypersensitivity, hand job, blow job

Crawling to Eddie across the cheap carpet in your first apartment. He sees you under the paper back he was reading and drops it, eyes widening. His legs spread a bit farther apart as you near him on your hands and knees.

“Hey there, Princess…” he trails off hesitantly. You continue making your way lithely across the floor to him, sitting up and perching on your heels when you reach the space between his socked feet.

“Hey handsome,” you say quietly, a smile on your face. You kiss your way up from his mid calf, pressing lips to denim, until you reach his knees.

You place a delicate kiss to the skin exposed by the rip there, making eye contact before placing your teeth over the exposed thread, lifting up and pulling to rip the hole wider.

Eddie’s eyes widen even further at the action and his chest begins moving up and down as his breathing kicks up, watching you.

“What are you…?”

You do the same to the other knee, ripping the hole open further with your teeth until both knee caps are fully exposed. Then, still maintaining eye contact, you place a hand over the hardening bulge in his jeans before dropping your head down to suck a wet kiss right on the side of his left knee.

“Holy fuck. Jesus Mary mother of - oh god.”

Eddie grips his thighs with white knuckles as you continue to lick and suck at his exposed knees, moving from one to the other while you palm at his hard on. His hard on which has swollen to the point way past comfort within the confines of his tight black jeans. He can’t tell if it’s the actual placement of your lips, or your pointed crotch rubbing or the look in your eyes as you gaze up at him from on your knees, but Eddie’s fucking gone.

Right when he thinks he’s going to bust in his jeans, you rock forwards off your heels and lift up onto your knees. You make quick work of his button and zipper and efficiently pull his aching dick out into the open air.

Licking a teasing little circle into the underside of his purpling mushroom head, you drop a teasing hand to one of his now well-loved knees. When your finger lightly traces the outline of the widened hole in his jeans, Eddie’s hips buck towards your face of their own accord. You close a hand around his shaft and begin pumping him in earnest.

“W-what are you doing to me?” Eddie asks, dropping lower in his seat on the couch, legs splaying even wider as his hips spasm into your grasp, seeking more more more. “How are you - shit.”

You suck another hickey into his knee and he’s bucking, yet again, into your fist. You smile at him from where you rest your chin on his knee. Thumb smoothing over the pool of precum collecting at his slit.

“Like it?” you ask teasingly. Innocently. As if you haven’t just wrecked him and made him both deliriously turned on and incredibly confused.

“How did you know to do that?” he sputters. You’re jerking him in earnest now, shuffled forward between his thighs and placing light, licking kisses to his tip. You shrug.

“ I didn’t. You just kept reacting so I kept going,” you answer simply, before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

He cums down your throat with barely time for a strangled warning not a minute after ♥️

~*~

Lmao I am so sorry for this.

Btw this is NOT the follow up to Sensitive, the fic where you discover Eddie’s ears are sensitive. This is completely stand alone and created because I am a menace.

[strobinbaby]

LET ME LOVE YOU

pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ kissing; smoking; unprotected sex; breeding?; ] minors dni!!

summary: aftermath of fucking, but she is greedy for more

word counter: 1.3k

a/n: hi and well,,, not eddie today, but im working on it, hope you enjoy xx please do not interact if you’re a minor! 

latest work / masterlist

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated!

I leaned against the shabby wooden door of a tiny balcony, clutching the sheet to my chest, my thighs still trembling, cold air stinging my cheeks, but helping to breathe easier. Clink. A tiny flame from a metal lighter lit up a cigarette pinched between my teeth, bathing my face in a warm orange light. 

White sheets were rumpled, a bedside lamp casted a dim glow, highlighting Joseph’s massive body from the side. He sprawled at the far end of the bed, a flimsy blanket draped over his naked body, his arms stretched behind his head as he watched me smoking, his eyes gleaming with devotion. It was around three in the morning, navy blue skies and a quiet city. I inhaled the poisonous fume, blowing out a cloud of smoke, a cherry red flicker of my cigarette burning brighter with every new tug. My gaze darted to Joseph, who studied me with a slumberous expression, cocking his head at me, his big brown eyes seducing me just staring. 

My feet carried me back to the bed, I let the sheet fall down, exposing myself for him once again. My nipples tightened at the cool whiff of air from the window, my cunt still sensitive from his fierce thrusts as I crawled over to straddle his lap. He looked handsome, a few curls fell messy over his forehead, that was coated in a thin layer of sweat, stubble coated his jaw, his mouth slack and his lips swollen from our kisses, his eyes, god, his eyes, a shade darker, lustful, devouring me. I drew on my cigarette and held it out to him. He accepted, clutching it with his fingers, cradling the back of my head, diving in to kiss me on the lips, on my shoulder, my arm, wet and prolonged, loving. Taking a tug he blew the smoke out to the side, his eyes still focused on me, hand moving lower to grip my hip, pushing me further into his body, making me mewl softly.

“Your cum is leaking out of me,” my whisper ghosted his lips as I slid my palms down his chest, stopping right above his abdomen, where the cloth was wrapped tight. He was warm and solid and I felt my breaths hitch all of a sudden. He put the cig out, throwing it into the ashtray on a nightstand, his palm firm on my thigh as he wetted his lips, shifting with me on top of him. Thick fingers brushed my folds, gathering the sticky liquid, smearing it all over my cunt, pushing them inside and moving in and out in a torturously slow pace.

“Joseph—“ I let out a shaky breath, merely grinding on his fingers, grasping his biceps for support, it was so fucking intimate, sensual, he just watched me, holding me by my hip with his other hand, the metal of his ring stinging my skin, “More, please.”

Abruptly he pulled out, leaving me empty, aching and whining at the loss of contact. 

“So needy, love,” he grumbled an inch away from my mouth, “Like I didn’t just fuck you fifteen minutes ago,” he lifted me up and tossed the sheet aside, lowering me back down, my bare skin meeting his, giving the slightest relief. I rubbed myself against his cock, coating him in my arousal, until he was hard again, looking him in the eyes as I did, trying so hard to hold back my moans.

“Can’t get enough of you,” I rasped, my forehead pressing his as I found my way to stroke him with my hand, eventually letting him sink in, easing his cock inside me, my moans overlapping with his strangled groans.

“Fuck, baby, so wet,” he nipped my jaw, veering to the spot below my ear, while I rolled my hips in a steady pace, threading my fingers through his curls, pulling him closer, “So good for me,” his voice was muffled as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, kissing my shoulder, his arms wound around my body, squeezing me tighter, “Such a sweet thing you are.”

“Joe, oh—“ I whimpered when his pelvis brushed my clit, “Jesus—“ my arm stretched to the headboard as I desperately braced myself over it, feeling Joseph’s mouth getting closer to my chest. His palms rested on my spine and I let myself lean into his touch, my head swam back as he sucked on my nipples, gentle and delicate, one t a time, while I moved back and forth, whining and fisting the sheets, “Joseph—” I pawed for his hair, tugging on his roots, making him groan into my skin, but he didn’t let go, he sucked a mouthful of my breast in, as much as he could fit, relieving it with a sloppy sound, breaking away.

A rapid light came from the window, a car drove past, the wind got stronger, cooling our bodies just a bit, the room smelled like perfume and sex and I was bordering on loosing control and letting go. 

“God, fuck, I love you,” I panted, delirious and dizzy, blinded with lust, “Your hands on my body, your fingers fucking me, your cock stretching me out, come inside? Please, Joe, I need your cum, wanna feel you spill inside me.”

Suddenly, I was pinned down, he seized my wrists, keeping them above my head, his chest heaving, my legs wrapped around his waist, my heels digging into his lower back, “So pretty like this, baby, fuck. Say something like that again, you love it when I fuck you, yeah? Coming for the third time and it’s only the middle of the night. I can use those fingers on you till the sun is up, darling, keep you full of my cum,” he bucked his hips faster, the lewd sound of our bodies slapping echoing through the room, his face dangerously close to mine, his breaths hot, burning my cheeks. The dirty promises he whispered, made me clench up “You’re addicting, you know that?“ my voice came out almost soundless, but loud enough for him to hear. He kissed me, bending my arms to hold them on both sides of my head, not willing to let go, thumbs rubbing little circles on the insides of my palms as he devoured my lips, slipping his tongue in, thrusting in and out of my swollen cunt, so affectionate. I didn’t even fight him, too exhausted and eager to come. 

“You are addicting, honey,” his palms gripped my thighs and he pushed my leg over his shoulder, fucking me deeper and rougher, nuzzling my neck, biting and marking my skin, “Could stay like this forever.”

“M’close,” I sobbed, scratching his back, feeling his chest weighing me down, the chain on his neck hanging low, tickling my skin, his curls falling down, brushing my forehead.

“I know, baby,” his lips were all over my neck and my face, “Give it up to me.”

The sensation of him being so deep, his low voice in my ear and my nails scratching his skin spurred me to come harder, I locked in a long spasm, gasping for air, arching my spine off the mattresses to meet his body as my high came crushing over, “Joe, oh, Joseph. Fuck—“

His nose brushed mine as he kept peppering my skin with tiny pecks, pushing my leg off his shoulder and propping himself up, his palms pressing the sheets.

“Give me a minute, okay?” he planted a quick kiss on my temple, fastening his pace and clenching his jaws, his forehead dropped to my shoulder, his moans grew louder. 

“Joseph,” I slid my hands down to his ass, squeezing and pushing him further, helping him move, deliberately clenching around him, “So good, baby, please don’t stop.” 

His cock twitched, his face sunk into my neck as the warm thick liquid spurted out, filling me in, his movements coming to a hilt.

When the high subsided, he searched for my face, drowsy and exhausted. Slowly he pulled out, snatching a pillow and pushing it under my lower back, “Can’t let it spill this time,” he smiled faintly, bending down to kiss my tummy,  his heavy palm flat on my stomach, his thumb pushing his cum back inside, “Gotta keep you full, darling.”

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers (But Also Please Stop Crying I'm New To This)

Working for a pest control company had its ups and downs, but for the most part the benefits were satisfactory. Good insurance, optional overtime, the chance to acquire a child who conveniently fit into a shirt pocket while you try to figure out what to do now.

Not quite sure there's a parenting handbook that covers the care and keeping of an abandoned borrower.

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AO3 Link

My Christmas gift to @hiddendreamer67 (:

Word Count: 9K

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Humans had many different reactions upon discovering the existence of miniature people living within the walls of their house. Sometimes they would shriek in terror, sometimes they would immediately try to capture them, and sometimes they simply killed them without a second thought like common pests. Sometimes they even liked killing them. Exterminators typically fell into the third category whether they realized it or not, unaware of what else they were poisoning with bait traps and fumes, sealing all the hidden exits to ensure they suffocated with the rats.

Milo didn’t know what sort of reaction an exterminator would have upon learning the true nature of the infestation, but it certainly wasn’t eyes widening followed by a soft, calm “oh.”

The borrower child trembled where he sat on the kitchen counter, desperately trying to push himself deeper into the corner of the wall in the hope that maybe he’d be able to phase through it. He wanted to yank against the twine tangled around his body again as if it would yield a different result than before, but if he pulled any harder the largest knot binding his wrists would turn his hands purple. All he could do was stare at the tan uniformed man looming over him with horrified eyes and hope his impending doom was swift. He was a professional, after all, so what would be the point of sparing another vermin?

The man moved the coffee machine the borrower had been hidden behind to get a better look at Milo’s bound and shaking form. The exterminator’s brows furrowed as he took in the mess of tangles the little one was caught in, but it was not an expression Milo wanted to see when a gloved hand began reaching for him. Attempts to back away were just as futile as they were thirty seconds ago; the most he was able to do was kick his pinched legs until his back slid up the backsplash and granted him a standing position.

Warm fingers covered in latex still managed to find a way to curl behind his back, pulling the borrower closer before lifting him up to the man’s chest. The fingers mercifully opened so Milo was splayed flat on the human’s palm.  The child squeezed his eyes shut to avoid staring at the harsh blue eyes carefully inspecting him. Another gloved hand came up and experimented tugging a few loose threads wrapped around the trembling borrower only to achieve the same results Milo had, which were nothing. 

“You’re really stuck in there, aren’t you…” the human murmured, receiving a strangled squeak of terror in response, one that had been pent inside Milo’s tight throat since he was first spotted by the exterminator.

Teary brown eyes struggled to find the courage to open. He could hear the former prodding hand disappear into the equipment bag set on the counter. Milo’s uneven breathing quickly turned to hyperventilation as the technician dug around for something specific, unable to imagine what kind of extermination device the human was surely looking for. The contemplative hum above him did little to settle his nerves. How many instruments of torture could he possibly have in one bag?! Just pick one and get it over wi-!

“Were you able to find anything, sir?” a woman asked from the kitchen door, the borrower instantly recognizing her as the homeowner. She was such a sweet, older woman, the kind that would make a pie for every new neighbor moving in no matter the street. Evidently, her kindness didn’t extend to rodents, or what she thought were rodents scurrying about her kitchen at night. Milo knew he should have been faster, should have waited until he was sure the coast was clear, but instead he had to be as bold and impatient as any other six year old. How was he supposed to know she’d turn around so quickly?! 

Well, he probably could have expected it, since she always did have a habit of misplacing her glasses as soon as she needed them. He had thought he was lucky she couldn’t make out exactly what his silhouette was when he ducked under the fridge until she called for pest control the next morning. All the most important rules had been broken that night and now the golden rule of never being seen by a human was fractured twice .

He deserved to be left behind.

The only outward signs that the human had been equally startled by the owner’s unexpected presence was a silent hitch in his chest and fingers twitching to cage his little captive more securely. The overwhelming need to get away was coursing through Milo’s veins more than ever, barely able to process the mere idea of being in clear view of two humans at once. Luckily, or unluckily, the exterminator seemed to have no desire to show off his catch to his customer, instead quickly sliding the little bundle of borrower into his shirt pocket before turning to address the woman.

“There’s definitely a lot of gaps in your baseboards, especially in the kitchen and dining room,” he explained, subtly crossing his arms to still the squirming bulge with his hand. “They look like they’ve been there for a good while, so whatever made them could be gone by now.”

“Oh, dear,” the woman sighed. “Maybe it’s to be expected for an older house, but...well, I’m sure I saw something just the other day running across the floor!”

I have a pretty good idea of what it could be, the man thought. “It’s possible a new animal has taken up residence in the old nests,” he said instead. He grabbed his bag to pull out a notepad of order slips, hastily scribbling all the requirements per company policy. “We can either patch the openings and set a few traps, which you could do yourself if you don’t want to pay any labor fees, of course, or we can schedule an appointment to fumigate your house. You would need to stay somewhere else for at least three days, though.”

She waved her hand dismissively, “No, no, give me the earliest time you have to fumigate. I want to be absolutely certain there are no other little guests living with me.”

Milo was barely holding onto the conversation, every word the technician said reverberating in his bones while the silence was drowned out by a heart beating louder than his own. He caught a few scant words thrown around, something traps and...fu-mi-gate? He hadn’t the slightest idea what that was supposed to mean, but to be fair he was more preoccupied with the reality that he was stuck in a pocket! There was no way out but up, to which he’d never be able to climb with his arms tied with various knots and cradled in the natural curve of the fabric, especially not without the human noticing.

He felt himself being rocked when the man started moving, presumably exchanging pleasantries and leaving the home out into the cool autumn air. Not just the woman’s home, Milo’s home - the only home he had ever known, the only home he was just learning to navigate without holding his mother’s hand, the only home he had destroyed when his family discovered the grave mistake he’d made the night earlier. It was becoming harder to contain the whimpers that so desperately wanted to come out, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat as best he could lest he annoy the human with his cries.

It was as if the exterminator had completely forgotten about the unwilling passenger nestled against his chest, silent and relatively still the entire drive save for the couple of times he adjusted his seatbelt to keep the strap from smushing Milo against him. Occasionally, he would glance down at the borrower though Milo never once looked up as he chose to focus all his anxious attention on clenching his hands over and over until his nails threatened to draw blood from his now raw palms. He had no idea how long he had been confined, any time frame far too long for his liking, but he wasn’t snapped back into awful reality until the human was shifting around again. Milo hadn’t even noticed the humming vibration of the truck was missing until he was back to being rocked by the man’s gait, hearing the cacophonous slam of a gigantic door as the exterminator stepped inside.

Inside. Inside somewhere new and unfamiliar. Inside with some one new and unfamiliar, with no tools or family to rely on this time.

Light poured in from above when the pocket was pulled open, only to be blotted out seconds later by fingers fishing around for a solid grip on their prey. It wasn’t like he could do much to prevent the hand from wrapping around him given his limited space and bound limbs, but Milo still squirmed and cried out when he was lifted from his prison. He felt himself being lowered immediately afterwards, gently placed on his back against a cool, hard surface while lingering fingers were careful that he didn’t smack the back of his head when they let go. 

Despite being freed from any physical contact with the human, Milo was paralyzed where he lay in primal fear, unable to command his body to shift in his current state. All he could do was shake uncontrollably and use the last of his willpower to pry his clenched eyes open until they adjusted to the light, shifting his gaze to the technician. The man had crossed his arms and was leaning on them against the counter Milo had been placed on, watching him with a very... unimpressed expression. His calculating gaze was darkened by the shadow cast by the bill of his cap, filled the borrower’s racing mind with images of agonizing, torturous ends, wondering over and over what was going to happen if the human didn’t even find him interesting enough to keep around.

“So,” a voice called to him, much clearer to understand now that he wasn’t directly against the source, “what’s your name?”

Milo was practically yanked out from his self deprecating bubble and met the human’s eyes with his own. It was a small mercy he had no tears left. He knew he had been asked a question and could see the man was clearly waiting for a reply, but the borrower couldn’t cough up any words past his quivering lips, only growing more anxious by the second. He needed to answer now before the human punished him for his insubordination, but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t!

He must have finally taken too long because the man sighed through his nose with a small eye roll, “Whatever, worth a shot, I guess.”

Oh no, no, no, he messed up. He made him angry. Why can’t he just learn to listen! The mess of apologies he wanted to ramble were stuck behind the bottled up sobs filling his chest, almost closing off his windpipe as the human’s attention returned to his work bag once again. This time, however, it didn’t take him very long to find what he was searching for. Milo stared apprehensively at the slim tool that fit completely within the man’s palm and when he pulled a piece from its side to brandish a blade that was conveniently the same size as his trembling body, his voice finally found the strength to push through.

“M-Milo! Milo!” he cried, twisting around in hopes that his renewed energy would be strong enough to break through the string binding him.

The man paused at his delayed answer, blinking at his struggling captive as he took a moment to understand what Milo was even referring to. “Oh. I’m Ben.” The hand armed with a swiss army knife started descending towards him rapidly, “hold still, please, Milo.”

Milo, decidedly, did not want to hold still in the face of a blade aiming to slice into him. He squealed, his body finally catching up with his mind’s screaming instincts to flee. Despite the twine continuing to pin his arms to his chest and rub sore patches behind his knees, the borrower felt a renewed vigor to fight against his bonds for the umpteenth time, as if it was in this convenient moment that he would be able to free himself and hide. Though even if that were the case, it would do him little good now. He was still in a different home with a stranger, nothing in sight that could be of any use. Slipping into the walls or being recaptured by the exterminator left him with similarly bleak results – Milo was as good as dead.

A sob finally managed to escape his heaving chest when gloved fingers reached to still him. This was it. This was the last consequence to his actions. It didn’t matter to him how the massive hand gave a twitch in hesitation at his downright pathetic display, nor was Milo able to make out the flash of emotion passing on the human’s face when his vision was blurred with newfound tears. He didn’t want to be killed like this; skinned and gutted like a rat, maybe even handed off to be dissected into a million pieces by big, scary humans in white coats and masks. There was no one else to blame but himself for the downfall of all borrower kind, centuries of well kept secrets undone in a single night by a careless child. His uncles were right to string him up with a broken climbing hook while everyone else was busy evacuating before the scheduled pest control visit. His cousins were right to taunt him with the knowledge he’d be snuffed out with the roaches in the wall. 

But all he wanted was to hold his mother’s hand one last time. One last moment of comfort before the painful unknown. Had she realized he was left behind on purpose by now? Did she care? Was she about to risk being snared in a mousetrap in a futile attempt to rescue her sweet baby, or was she shaking her head in disappointment that her own child had caused such pandemonium? Milo didn’t know which mental scenario hurt more to imagine. Maybe he should have stayed tucked up behind the kitchen tiles rather than scooching himself until he could wriggle through an opening behind the counter outlet. At least then he could have gone to the grave with his mistake instead of having his corpse on display.

Milo was so deep in what he thought were his last, morbid musings to notice the tip of the knife slid under the many layers of string as opposed to his flesh. The cool metal pulled upwards instead of plunging down, easily snapping through the bindings with hardly a flick of the wrist. Of course it was nothing to a human, but to the borrower they might have well been iron chains. Pressure was instantly released from around his arms and chest, letting the tingling limbs relax and regain proper blood flow. For a moment, Milo mistook the feeling of freedom as his soul ascending before he realized he was still trapped in an unmarred body. 

Wide eyes blinked their sight clear just in time to see the blade saw against the largest knot that clamped the boy’s wrists together, snapping the last thread and giving him full mobility of his upper half again. He was still processing the fact he wasn’t being flayed for fun while the exterminator worked on cutting Milo’s legs free as well, effectively breaking him out of his half hearted cocoon. 

“How the hel-... heck did you manage to do this, anyways?” The man asked, using his fingers to pull away the remaining bits of twine off of Milo. At this point, it really wouldn’t make much difference for the borrower to speak with a human considering he had already offered up his name. There were no more secrets left to hold, yet the poor thing felt himself clamming up again. Perhaps it had less to do with preserving what little he could of borrowerkind and more along the lines of not wanting to air his wrongdoings and the ensuing punishment. How embarrassing to tell his captor, possibly his killer, that he had been left to gag on fumes by the family he had endangered. 

The lack of response made Ben give a small frown and the borrower felt his heart drop. Obviously, he knew Milo could talk, hence how he knew the child’s name was Milo in the first place. There was no sense in pretending there was any type of language barrier between them that would prevent the little one from spilling all the lore he knew. All it would do is worsen the treatment he received when the human pried the information out of him, both metaphorically and literally. Still, the best he could offer up was a strained whimper, immediately throwing his arms up in front of his tear stricken face to hide when the human leaned closer on the counter. The hand that had moved to curl behind him gingerly touched his back, creating an aftershock of trembling down Milo’s spine. 

“How old are you?” The exterminator tried instead. When that gave him the same non-answer, he huffed. As much as Milo wished he could make this easier on himself, six years of well ingrained instincts kept overriding the desire to comply. If only that could have been the case forty-eight hours ago.

“C’mon, bud, make this a little easy for me,” Ben said softly. “I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to be doing here…”

He wasn’t supposed to be doing anything because he wasn’t supposed to ever know borrowers were a race of people that existed. He wasn’t meant to find out his profession made him one of the top killers of Milo’s species, what with his poisons and traps and heavy boots. Who was to say how many lives had been lost in his line of duty, not to mention the child was intended to be added to the death toll. The human could have gone on with his life blissfully unaware the little one he was cradling in his hand should have been suffocating in the walls to die in agony alone. Ben never would have cared about him then, not that he truly cared about him now. He was curious, yes, but eventually the novelty would wear off and be replaced with boredom. Tiny bodies like Milo’s were not made to withstand the types of entertainment humans often put them through.

The tip of a gloved finger stroked the top of Milo’s head, flattening the black waves down and accidentally plucking a few strands out when they would catch on the latex material. Surely the gesture was intended to be comforting rather than mildly unpleasant, but the borrower couldn’t help but wince at the too rough touches. He ducked his head further into his arms to avoid any more petting, though Ben hardly seemed to take the hint he didn’t want to be fiddled with in any capacity. 

“Are you…hurt? Bleeding? Tired?” If he wasn’t going to get a direct answer, the technician was just going to have to resort to guessing games. Unfortunately, his limited experience with children and non existent knowhow of borrowers quickly left him floundering. “Look, just…tell me what you want. Please? You’re making me feel bad about this.”

If Milo knew what audacity was, he would feel quite a bit of it for Ben trying to make it out like he was the unreasonable one. It was hard to say how much longer his patience would last for the borrower’s antics before he grew tired of talking to himself. After all, if he was destined to be experimented on and responsible for a mass extinction, it probably wouldn’t make much difference if he spoke now or not ever, if only to stay a few more minutes out of a vacuum sealed baggie. 

Milo sniffled, curling in on himself tighter and muffling his words “...h-home…”

Having not been expecting another verbal response, Ben blinked in mild surprise. “Hm?”

“ H-home ,” Milo repeated, the word choking him. “I wanna go home…w-with Momma…”

“Oh, bud, I, uh…I don’t know if that’s really…”

Whatever awkward excuse the human was trying to come up with as a means to soften the blow that Milo won’t be returning to his family any time soon was cut off by the sharp ring of his work phone. He cursed under his breath, cringing as soon as the dirty word left his mouth with a glance at the child huddled against his palm. The borrower had heard plenty of swears before, especially when the news had broken about the homeowner spotting him. Still, Milo jolted at the foreign sound of a cell phone, a grating noise different to the landline he was more accustomed to hearing from time to time. He had never known those little talking things could be cordless and boxy until Ben fished the device from his back pocket to answer. 

“Hey, yeah, what’s up?” He asked into it, his focus shifting to the faint voice on the other end that the child couldn’t pick up. “No, no, I’m fine, yeah, just a bit… busy , I guess.”

‘Busy’ meant that he was anticipating being preoccupied with Milo for an extended period of time. Long enough that the human would need to devote a considerable amount of attention to him and not be bothered by anyone else. The color drained from his flushed cheeks, the awful reality sinking in further for the borrower. Ben could go ahead and blab about his discovery to whoever he was talking to right now, offer to bring him over for proof, laugh as they schemed together the best way to make a profit from this discovery. One mention would be all it took before the rumor spread like wildfire with living evidence to back up the claim. 

But the exterminator didn’t say a word, instead letting the conversation be directed about another job he was being requested to pick up this afternoon. No details about what happened at the old woman’s house, no unwarranted gossip about a fun little secret. A half breath of relief escaped Milo without him fully understanding why.

With one hand holding the cellphone, the other no longer prodding him, and Ben’s gaze elsewhere while he was focused on the call, Milo saw no better opportunity to make his great escape than this very second. Humans could be so distracted with their distant talks that they never noticed a tiny person scuttling right under their feet with an armful of safety pins. Granted, the borrower hasn’t the faintest idea what the best path would be for the most secure holding spot, but most kitchens should be the same, right? Any outlet in the kitchen would be prime real estate for a getaway tunnel, assuming borrowers had already settled down in the house previously and loosened the panel. 

Well, even if that weren’t the case, there were plenty of tight spaces and hidden gaps that Milo could stuff himself into where giant fingers wouldn’t be able to pass. So long as Ben didn’t see where Milo had scampered off to, he was in the clear of never being found and thus giving up the search fairly quickly. Then again, this was a human with a deadly profession. The house could be booby trapped in a matter of minutes after he disappeared under the floorboards, sealing him in his hidey hole forever. Or worse, the exterminator had already secured his home with poison and sticky paper as a precaution to other pests that may dare enter his domain.

It was a risk he was going to have to take. Yes, Ben might have seen him and spoken to him, but so long as Milo never interacted with him again, it would be his word against no one. That was one of the few redeeming qualities about humans: if there was no proof, no other person would believe their ‘outlandish’ claims. Little people living in the walls? Really? How asinine! Were they also supposed to believe fairies and goblins existed within the mushroom rings found deep in overgrown forests?

Milo scrubbed his face dry to the best of his abilities with the back of his hands, gulping down a few shuddering breaths to hopefully steel his nerves. Now was not the time to be a baby anymore. He needed to be brave and strong like a real borrower. Inch by slow inch, he scooted himself away from the idle hand still cupped behind him, fully intending to stand up and bolt as soon as he was far enough away that fingers couldn’t hook around him. Unfortunately, things never worked out the way Milo planned if past instances were anything to go by. No sooner had his plan begun it was brought to a screeching halt the second Ben caught his movements out of the corner of his eye. The poor boy hadn’t even been able to push himself off his knees before he was cut off by a hand in front of him.

The gloved barrier startled Milo enough to yelp, replacing his somewhat thought out course of action with the haphazard need to get away get away get away! Little legs scrambled to find purchase on the counter to send him off into a sprint, but it was of no use at this point when his failed escape had been spotted this close to a handsy human. He’d manage to run one, two, three full steps when Ben’s thumb and forefinger pinched the back of his tiny green tunic and lifted him into the air. Being so high up made the boy’s stomach turn unpleasantly, imaging what it would be like if he was dropped from this height onto the linoleum floor and splattering next to the technician’s boots. Either way, the thought didn’t dissuade Milo from struggling in this new hold, clawing at the fingers behind him and kicking his legs fierce enough that he swung back and forth.

“No, no, no! Let go! Lemme go! ” The tears were back and freely cascading down the borrower’s cheeks, but sorrow no longer tugged at his heart. It was replaced with something more primal, more raw, that made Milo feel like he was seeing stars with every labored cry that left him winded. Panic, pure and unfiltered. “ Momma! ” 

As if the exterminator was only plucking a piece of lint and not a tiny child in the midst of an anxiety attack, Ben hardly acknowledged the little one’s tantrum so as to not lose his place in the phone conversation. He maneuvered his cellphone to be balanced between his cheek and raised shoulder to free up his second hand, turning to lean back against the counter’s edge. The squirming borrower was then deposited into his awaiting palm, squishing Milo against his chest before any flailing limbs could climb over his fingers and send him tumbling below. Though it would be more ideal to shush and coo at the sobbing child being forced to cuddle into the tan fabric of his uniform, he couldn’t let his supervisor in on the fact he was comforting a person one twelfth the size of a typical first grader. Which would somehow be just as difficult to explain how he had come into care for a random kid to begin with. 

Tiny fists punched and pushed on his sternum, unable to put a fraction of distance between their two bodies. And here Ben thought he was on to something by making the borrower subconsciously follow the rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat in an attempt to coddle him. Perhaps that was just a trick that worked on newborn puppies; that was what his sister told him was a bonafide trick to settle motherless litters at her vet clinic. Then again, this wasn’t an orphaned kitten mewling for a mama cat. This was an actual child, missing its mother all the same, but presumably with the cognitive function of a human to mourn the loss of their parent and fear the monster who separated them all the same. 

He really, really wasn’t trying to be the bad guy here, though it was hard to dispute that narrative while he was silencing Milo with a hug and pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary for his call. 

“Mm, sure, I can be out in Bilmore before five, as long as it’s just for an ant spray. Kyle owes me,” Ben agreed. Picking up a coworker’s shift was the exact opposite of what he had in mind, but he was too deep in the farce that everything was totally normal on his end to refute. The exterminator most definitely did not have an absurdly small person trying to bite through the latex of his gloves in hopes of returning from whence it came from some old lady’s house, no sir.  

Thankfully, Milo was so caught up in his hysterics that most of his heart wrenching cries were concealed behind gently rubbing fingers, preventing any noises from being picked up on the receiver. Would it have been any more of a disservice to him if another human became aware of his pathetic situation? Probably not. There was little more harm that could be done for the reputation of borrowers at this point. Therefore, the child allowed himself to slip into the throes of his breakdown, the full weight of everything finally crushing his tiny self. He was abandoned by the only family he had. He had lost his mother. He had doomed his species. He was trapped by a man who was so much bigger and older and stronger and scarier . He was going to die.

Milo didn’t want to die, he had barely gotten the chance to live! He hadn’t even learned how to scale the rafters yet, or to know which order of symbols spelt out words to avoid and words to stuff his face with. Hell, Ben could set out a pile of rat poison and a pile of stale cereal bits and the borrower wouldn’t know the difference. Perhaps Ben would be merciful enough to grant him a quick and painless death, just popping his head under the heel of his boot or something. Please, please, just let it be something that doesn't hurt. His heart already hurt so much and now Milo’s head was beginning to pound from the excessive sobbing. All he wanted was for everything to stop and to go back to normal. 

His mother would have known how to fix this. She knew how to fix anything he broke. 

At some point, Milo stopped fruitlessly slapping at the fingers that caged him close and instead gripped onto the uniform of his captor. It was nowhere near the same level of comfort he was seeking out, but it would have to make do in his final hours. It was warm, there was a loudness in the chest he was nestled against, and a repeated touch stroking from his head to his lower back could almost be mistaken as familiar. For that reason alone, the borrower cried harder. Not loud, panicked wails like before, but soft whimpers heavy with tears that soaked into the human’s shirt with barely any notice. His headache was getting worse now, dehydration making him more miserable than ever. 

“Alright, I’ll head out in a bit, thanks,” With that, the technician shifted Milo to be cradled in one hand so that he could hang up the call. “...that was a stupid idea. Why did I do that?” He mumbled.

Immediately, the borrower started fretting again from the movement. The dread that was building in the pit of his stomach wasn’t helped when Ben sighed and rubbed the side of his temple, briefly nudging his hat up to free a few blonde strands. 

Blue eyes glanced down at watery brown ones. “What am I going to do with you now?”

His throat was still raw from the hoarse sobs he had worked himself up over, but words still found a way to push out of his mouth between shuddering pants. “L-lemme go…”

Ben pursed his lips, appearing to actually consider Milo’s request. A spark of hope dared to make his itty bitty heart beat out of his chest, but the fleeting feeling was snuffed out when the human shook his head in disagreement.

“No, you’re just going to get hurt. I mean, I guess I could take you with me but��” He looked at his tool bag, noting how very not safe or comfortable it would be to tote around a child in. There was the option of putting him in his pocket again, but the borrower didn’t seem like he knew how to stay still. “It would be easier if you just stayed put until I got back.”

The problem was Milo did not want to ‘stay put’, of which they were both aware of. As soon as Ben would release him on solid ground, the borrower would make a run for it. Whether or not his latest escape attempt would be successful was to be determined, but Ben was more worried about the poor kid getting injured in an unfamiliar house than actually managing to find a way home. There were simply too many dangers the exterminator already foresaw given his experience with unlucky critters. Exposed wires delivering a deadly shock, a hot pipe scalding flesh, openings too narrow to back out of, hidden scavengers pouncing on an easy meal. The list went on and on. Pint sized or not, these weren’t things any child would be able to fend off without help, and if Ben didn’t know where he was…

A kick that felt more like a tap against his rib shook him from his worries, reminding the technician the problem was still, quite literally, at hand. Milo was trying to push himself up and out of Ben’s grip, uncaring that freeing himself would just mean careening several stories below. Further evidence that the child didn’t have the rational survival skills necessary to be on his own. 

“No! Put me down!” Milo yelled with a couple more kicks. The tears were drying into itchy tracks on his cheeks, though no more clouded his vision like before. It was more of a temper tantrum from not getting his way than the primal panic that had been easily ignored during the human’s phone call. 

“Milo, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself flailing like that.”

“No, I’m not!” Spoken like a true kid. “I don’t wanna be held!”

The exterminator huffed. “If I put you down, are you going to run away?”

The struggling stopped at this, having not expected any sort of compromise from his captor. Milo needed to tread very carefully. Tempting as it was to blindly agree and turn tail as soon as he could, it felt wrong to break his promise to an adult. Even if that adult was twelve times his size and had an arsenal of deadly traps that could be used as punishment. It didn’t feel good to lie, whereas if he listened to whatever rules were laid out to him, the borrower might be rewarded. Returning to his home and into the warm embrace of his mother was probably too steep of a prize to be earned for staying on the kitchen counter, but maybe it was a goal that could be worked towards.

So, Milo shook his head in silent agreement that he wouldn’t try to flee. True to his word, Ben turned around and lowered the child back to the granite countertop. His legs felt like jelly, causing Milo to sit on his knees when the hand behind him uncurled to leave him be. It would be so, so easy to get up and make a mad dash for an outlet or the crevice where the fridge and backsplash met. Anywhere that human fingers would take too long to pry open, the borrower being long gone in the inner workings of the house by the time they found a big enough opening to prod. But he didn’t move a muscle. A part of him wasn’t sure he even could. Everything felt numb and tingly, like when he’d sleep on his arm weird and be unable to move it until after breakfast. 

Still, the exterminator was content with his obedience. He folded his hands together and rested his chin on top, looking down at Milo who was struggling to maintain any type of eye contact. “I think we both have a couple questions.”

“I want to go home.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that really clear.”

“ Please take me home?”

“Look, kid, I,” The human struggled to find the appropriate words. “...well, really, I don’t know what you are. Or where you came from. Or what home is. So, you gotta help me out here, because I’m sure as sh-, sure as heck not leaving you all by yourself.”

If Milo was a foolish borrower, which some may argue he was in the same vein that most six year olds were naive to a fault, he would have happily blabbed away answers to all of Ben’s questions. They were simple enough and it dangled the promise of being carried home then and there as soon as he spilled the beans. However, Milo knew the rules, even if he broke the most important ones. An exterminator knowing the full ins and outs of borrower colonies would only be looking to line his pockets rather than keeping the vague promise of a safe return. For the good of the rest of us , his teenage cousin had sneered.

The child looked away from Ben’s unintentionally cold gaze. He wished the human had soft, warm eyes like his mother and himself did. Hazel tones felt much friendlier than the frozen blue boring down from above. “I can’t tell you,” Milo mumbled.

The man tilted his head. “Why?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Great,” he groaned, and Milo couldn’t help but flinch for the wrong answer he gave. Would he be punished now or later, he wondered. “So, how exactly am I meant to take you home if you don’t tell me where it is?”

That…was a good question. A loophole that Milo’s child brain was not expecting to have to factor in. Well, if they were speaking only in technical truths, it wasn’t that all of Milo’s home was hidden, just the parts that were within the home of another human. Similar to a concept of saying what state or city a person lived in without giving the exact address of their dwelling. That said, he wouldn’t really be revealing anything Ben hadn’t already figured out. Milo was found at the old woman’s house, so he lived somewhere in the old woman’s house. As long as he was dropped off somewhere inside and the exterminator took his leave, the borrower could scamper to one of the many concealed openings back into the tunnels without exposing further secrets.

“It’s, um…w-we were already there,” The borrower said softly. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, like it was the most vile confession of his lifetime.

“The place in Anville? Where you were all tangled up?” Milo nodded in confirmation. “I…don’t think it would be possible to take you back there right now.” Or ever, was the unspoken truth Ben didn’t have the heart to admit. The house was due to be smoked by the end of the week, effectively killing any and all living creatures that had taken up residence without the woman’s permission. Taking the child back would only ensure his demise not long after, and taking him after the fumigation was done was only inviting insurmountable trauma for what he might find inside where his family once was…

Assuming they were still there at all. It was a little odd to Ben that the borrower had been so perfectly wound up in double and triple knots with no signs of a guardian near him. Of course, said guardian could have taken cover before they, too, were scooped up by the technician. But shouldn’t their first instinct be to protect their child, to fend off any threats, make some kind of distraction so they could get Milo to safety? Ben didn’t want to judge the parenting styles of someone he never met, yet he couldn’t shake the idea that the set up for their first encounter didn’t completely sit right with him.

Milo shrank in on himself at Ben’s dismissal. “Wh…why not?”

“Well, no one is scheduled to go back there for a couple days. And when they do it’ll be…y’know, fumigated. That’s not good,” Ben tried to explain.

“Oh,” The borrower said, as if he knew most of those big words. “When will that be done?”

Ben shrugged. “Everything will be all cleared in two weeks, I’m sure.”

“And then I can go home?”

What was the most child friendly way to tell a six year old if they returned and also didn’t fall victim to one of the many, many preventative traps left behind, they would more than likely come across the poisoned bodies of their loved ones? Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit guilty for that fact there was no conceivable way for him to go back and warn ‘Momma’ of her impending doom, at least for the hope of a happy family reunion afterwards. The reality was that if she was still there, looking for her troublesome baby, she would suffocate alone and unknowing if her child had suffered the same tragic fate. It was miserable to imagine, much less explain to a kid who barely trusted him to begin with. 

Rather than opening up this new can of worms that would no doubt reignite the wails and thrashing from ten minutes ago, Ben chose to glance at his watch. If he wanted to make it to Bilmore in time, he needed to get going, which brought him all the way back to square one of what the fuck is he supposed to do with a three inch tall kiddo?

“How about we talk about this when I get back, okay?” He pushed himself up from the counter, only to drop to a crouch so he could root around the cabinet under his sink. “I gotta head out for a bit.”

“To my house?” Milo asked, tepidly crawling near the edge of the counter to get a peek of what the human was doing.

“No. Different house. We can talk more about your house later,” A rattling of metal and a few squeaky hinges were exactly what Ben was looking for, returning to his full height with a small cage in his hands.

Milo knew what a cage was. Milo did not like cages. Cages were what birds and things were kept in, like the old woman’s pretty canary. It seemed too cramped for an animal meant to soar through the sky and the borrower felt terribly sorry for it to be cooped up for so many hours of the day. His aunt, the silly one with three missing teeth, had warned him of humans locking borrowers up in similar prisons. Tiny, cold little cells so the human could be entertained at their leisure by the borrower’s misery. No privacy, no comfort, no being able to run around the rafters and steal the crumbs of chocolate chip cookies. An awful existence, one of the worst fates for a borrower should they ever be caught alive. 

The terror that drained all color from the child’s face for a second time made Ben feel even more horrible about this, but he had no choice! This was the only safe place he could think of for Milo to stay alone without running the risk of him getting into trouble. Besides, it’s not like he would force the borrower to stay in there forever, just…an hour or two, until he finished that stupid job he never should have agreed to cover. If nothing else, this gave him the opportunity to get a few supplies while he was already driving around to make his impromptu guest a tad more comfortable. Some bedding, maybe a couple dollhouse toys, books for guys who didn’t know the first thing about caring for kids, books for small rodent care for new owners. 

There was no sense in acting like this was going to be a short term fostering. As of now, Benjamin Riley, age twenty-eight, was the self appointed guardian of a mysterious child who was in serious need of a growth spurt. 

“Hey, it’s okay, look,” Ben tried to soothe, setting the cage on the counter near Milo. “It’s a humane trap, it’s not going to hurt you. I promise.”

His promises clearly meant nothing to Milo, who still had little to no reason to assume any of his words were truthful. As far as the little one was concerned, the exterminator had shown up, kidnapped him, and had signed for an appointment date that would slaughter his family should any of them still remain after being displaced. Ben had done absolutely nothing for him to earn enough trust to be willingly imprisoned.

Milo squeaked and clambered onto his feet, taking several steps away from the horrible contraption. “N-no, I don’t w-wanna!” 

An understandable reaction, but not the one the human wanted to deal with right now. He didn’t have thirty to forty minutes to waste in settling Milo down enough to be put in the trap. “I know, bud, but it’s not that bad. It’s just for a little bit.”

“No!”

“I’ll let you out as soon as I get back, okay? This is only temporary.”

“No, I don’t want to go in!”

“Milo, c’mon, you’re killing me here. This is just to keep you safe while I’m gone. I’ll come back with things to make it cozier for next time.”

“ No! ”

Breaking his promise be damned, Milo was sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him to avoid being stuffed in a cage. The metal was dark, likely cold to the touch, and had weird upper mechanisms that scared the borrower to touch. The only way it could be more horrendous would be if the exterminator returned it to its original storage space under the sink, where it was pitch black and damp, ready to be forgotten after a long day of errands. 

It was foolish to think he’d ever be able to outrun a human who could close the distance between them without fully extending his arm. No matter how hard his legs pushed and how deep his chest sucked in stinging breaths to propel him forward, Milo couldn’t shake the hand that swooped in from above. Two fingers curled in front of him, knocking the wind from his lungs when he collided full speed with the solid digits. A gloved thumb closed behind to secure his back, preventing him from being able to slip out of the hold. Before he had even gotten a steady inhale, the borrower was airborne, carried back to his original spot with barely any effort on the human’s part.

Except he wasn’t dropped back onto the counter. Instead, he could only watch with wide eyes as Ben used his other hand to undo the latch on the front of the cage, revealing an opening large enough for Milo to pass through. Though his legs kicked and his arms pushed and a strangled cry squeaked out, the technician could not be swayed to release him until after he had been deposited on the cold, metal floor. He should try to take solace in the fact that he wasn’t dropped from a bruising height into his new prison, but it was hard to find any bright side to his horrid situation.

“It’s not forever, I promise,” Ben repeated, removing his hand and pressing the trigger plate to seal the borrower in with a reverberating click. 

Immediately, Milo ran to the bars of the cage, hoping to find a miraculous weak spot that would break free if he shook it hard enough. “No, no! Please! L-let me out!”

“When I come home.” And that was that. Sitting here trying to reason with a child as to why he deemed it necessary to lock him up like a feral rat would only lead to them talking in circles. And because Ben felt increasingly awful by the second seeing the poor, frightened boy trapped in the same manner as a rodent. The comparison seemed gross. Milo was not a rat or a stray or any other animal; he was a… something . Not a human, but more than close enough. A child, for God’s sake. Yet what other option did Ben have on such unexpected notice? He’ll make it up to him later. They were going to be in each other’s company for quite a while.

More pleas and whimpers spilled from Milo in a jumble of stutters, trying to find the right words to appease his captor to rethink the situation. “Please, p-please! I’ll be good! I-I promise! Please let me out, please, please , don’t go!” 

If Ben hung around any longer to watch the tragic display, he just might very well lose his resolve and opt to stay home and care for Milo without the burden of the cage. However, that would mean having to call his supervisor and explain why he was backing out of the shift he agreed to, and not being able to pick up any essentials for the kid, and basically being stuck on house arrest because he would be too guilt ridden to leave Milo alone if it meant having him in the humane trap for any period of time. Kids sure knew how to pull on the heartstrings. 

With that, the exterminator did what he would do for cases of pest relocation involving active and/or anxious critters. He took the hand towel that hung over the handle of his oven and unfolded it, draping the yellow and blue fabric over the cage to conceal most of the outside view from all sides. It was meant to help whatever critter was inside not feel overstimulated by the unfamiliar sights and people so that they would hopefully self soothe into a calmer state before being moved. Ben wasn’t sure how well it worked on Milo since he only continued to beg and feebly tug at the cloth like he might be able to dislodge it from his view.

Well, at least the human didn’t have to look him in his teary eyes as he left. That was not a face he wanted to regret while he was on a job, lest his emotions get the better of him. This was only temporary. This was for Milo’s own good. If that was what he wanted the borrower to believe, then that’s what he needed to believe, too. Sometimes, it’s necessary to be the bad guy when it comes to the world of parenting. Is that what he was now – a parent? Pretty lousy one, if you asked him. Those types of bonds would form more naturally as time went on and Milo wasn’t left for an hour or so in a rodent cage. Maybe. 

Ben gave the top of the cage an awkward pat, the muffled sound of the metal making Milo yelp as the vibrations tingled his hands. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Be good.” He said softly, like it would make any difference.

Boots faded into the distance before cutting off when the front door closed behind the exterminator. It was at this point that Milo was now well and truly alone. There was no reason to keep spouting off pleads when no one was around to hear them. The only thing to keep him occupied was himself and the two tone splashes of color blinding him from the outside world. No way to be able to spot any potential hiding spots once he was out (if Ben was really going to do such a thing), no way to judge the passing of time, no way to look at anything that might be remotely more engaging than a dish towel. He wished he could bring some of the fabric through the criss cross bars of the cage so that he would have something warm to sit on.

Alas, he had nothing. No home, no family. Just a cold, empty cage and the berating voice of his thoughts that listed off all his faults which led him to this moment, oftentimes echoed in the same manner as the relatives who had tied him up. This felt like the perfect time to air his grievances, but there were no more tears to cry and no ache to be screamed. His chest felt empty and numb, as if his heart had been ripped out and discarded. Perhaps that would be a literal possibility in the future should Ben grow tired of his whining. It would do him well to remember who’s mercy he was at now, the one who decided if he would live or die and exactly how painful his demise could be.

Milo dropped to his knees and waited in silence, just like he was told to do. Just like he should have done in the first place when he was warned to never be spotted by a human. If he closed his eyes and thought real hard about it, he could picture his mother running over to lift the fabric away and reveal that she had tracked him down all this way and was here to take him home. Where no one was mad at him and no one was going to die at the hands of the uniformed human and his bag of poisons. 

Yes, Momma would be here soon. He just had to be patient a little longer.

[tteokdoroki]

baby, you’re tiny | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 2.3K

⇝ rating: mature, 18+.

⇝ genre: first time!au, smut.

⇝ summary: there were many things katsuki loved about his girlfriend, the main being how tiny she was compared to him; more specifically, how tiny she looked when they were in the bedroom.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to 18 ), size!kink, protected sex, fingering ( female recieving ), virginity loss, sub!reader + dom!bakugou,spitting?? y’all idk its just smut ok!! katsuki is soft <33

⇝ author’s note(s): hello hello hello!! it’s been a while since i posted my lastr request so i hope you enjoy this!! this was a request by anon, apologies for the delay. also :( my blog has grown so much so i want to thank you all for 1K, ilysm <3

⇝ masterlist | requests

you were tiny.

and if there was one thing katsuki bakugou loved most about you, his girlfriend, his how tiny you were.

at least compared to him.

most of class A had been shocked when you started dating at the start of second year; since in first year, all katsuki had done was pick on you for your height ( or lack thereof ) and nag you for your quirk— lullaby hadn’t been quite so powerful back then. but your fondness for him grew that summer, having spent time with he and eijirou over the break.

bakugou was sweet when he wanted to be, soft and attentive to you and you only. his teasing gradually let up, turning into sweet gestures or whispered praises and then finally stolen kisses under the night sky.

that’s what lead you both to date, in the end; but everyone supported you nonetheless. it was quite funny to see the great katsuki bakugou help fix your uniform in the morning or make you breakfast in the dorms and even if he yelled at the others for mentioning it— he loved the weight of your barely-there palm in his and the way you pouted up him with faux anger when he rested his elbow on your head.

you were short enough for him to tower over you and twirl you in his arms, small enough to look like you drowning in his hoodies that he gave you. even if he stopped mocking you for your height, over a year ago— even now, in your third year he still loved it.

you were so tiny and he loved it.

he especially loved the way you looked under him right now.

“ka-katsuki-!”

your moan fills his ears, overloading each one of his senses and he thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard in his life. pulling his fingers from your slick heat, bakugou’s eyes stay trained on yours as he brings them up to his lips and sucks the remainders of your orgasm away. he lives for the way your face twists with a fresh wave of pleasure and your eyes plead him for more through the dimmed light of his dorm room.

he pinches your thighs, the ones that quiver from your second release of the night, and leans above you to pry your arm away from your heated face. “feel good, sweetheart?” the blonde asks softly, now that he can see you, fingers weaving between your bodies to draw shapes into your swollen clit. you nod once and screw your eyes shut, bare chest arching into katsuki’s at his simple touch. “need another?”

peeking up at him, your boyfriend can see the internal debate dancing in your lust filled eyes. bakugou had fingered you twice to orgasm already and asked if you needed another only to prepare you. for weeks now; you’d both entertained the idea of being one another’s first’s— of course you’d done more than just makeouts and heavy petting but after a year of dating, you finally wanted to be together as one ( bakugou’s words not your own ).

finally, you answer him with a soft ‘no, think i’m ready now,’ and the hot headed boy can barely contain his excitement. he presses a searing kiss to your lips— tongues sliding together while bakugou swallows your helpless whimpers from where you taste yourself on him. your own hand slips between you both now, curling around your boyfriend’s hardening length to palm him.

meanwhile, with a breathless groan, katsuki’s lips slip down to suck love bites into the column of your throat, but only gently. he knows you hate marks but’ll get a kick out of the others fawning over them the next day. the speed of your hand picks up, jerking him off as if for revenge— you knew how easy bakugou could come undone with just your touch and he revels in the way your tiny hands wrap around his thick girth, barely grazing the circumference of it.

just like how you could barely fit his cock in your mouth when you sucked him off—

“baby— fuck,” the blonde’s breath stutters, mind becoming foggy with thoughts of your lips on his girth egging him on.  he should stop you before he cums; stop himself from rutting into your small fingers and the thumb that brushes over the glands on his head. bakugou doesn’t want to cum before he’s got a chance to take you for the first time— even if he’d given you plenty of chances to. “slow down little bear, gotta fuck you before— before i cum…”

you grin at him from behind the warmth beneath your skin. “then get to it, katsu…”

the explosive third year gives you one last pinch to your clit and leans back on his thighs ever so slightly to reach for a condom. he quickly rolls it on, tapping his latex covered length against your dripping entrance as he prepares to make you his. you squirm underneath bakugou, fingers reaching up to weave their way into his blonde glossed hair— yanking him closer to you while he finally makes an effort to push into your needy heat.

crimson gaze fluttering down, katsuki looks to where your bodies begin to become joined, your tiny cunt fluttering around the head of his cock as he slides himself inside of you. he feels thick drool pool on his tongue at the very sight, he’s not even half the way in and your gushing pussy is already struggling to take his cock. “would’ya look at that little one,” his words are slurred around the saliva building up in his mouth. you’re so fucking small it’s driving him insane. you follow your boyfriend’s gaze, spasming at how he begins to stretch you out. “seems like your little pussy’s too tight, too small to take your man’s fat cock, huh?”

a strangled whimper sounds in the back of your throat, making katsuki smirk as he taps your cheek with a freehand. he feels a sense of pride lurch in his, how good it feels to be so big that his pretty little princess can’t take him all but he wants a verbal answer from you, wants to hear you struggle just like your glistening heat does.

“yes, ’s too small…” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip as you meat his eye again—moving to wrap your thighs around his waist.

“should i fuck you open, baby?” you moan lowly at his words, hips bucking up and pussy clenching around his girth involuntarily. “yeah? your greedy little cunt likes the sounda that…” bakugou tries again, leaning over you as he slowly drives his hips forward to push more of his cock into you.

his head drops to your neck, puffs of his breath warm against your skin while he uses all of his willpower to hold back. katsuki knows he’s big, that he can make you feel good because of it too, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. he never wants to. when his dribbling length is half plunged inside you, the ash blonde’s fingers drop to your clit once more— soothing the burn of his weighty dick to help you suck in more of him.

your head thrashes in the sheets while he whispers praises against your bruised and bitten flesh. “you can take it baby, i know you can…”

and you do.

the pair of you groan in unison once katsuki is fully sheathed inside of you, twitching at the feeling of your soft velvety walls finally engulfing him. you can feel the leaking head of his cock prodding at your cervix, stimulating you without your boyfriend having to even move and sending shivers down your spine.

“p-please, katsuki…move.” you growl hungrily, pulling him down to smack a wet, passionate kiss against his awaiting lips. although your teeth and tongue clash messily in your liplock, bakugou doesn’t need to be told twice, drawing back his hips from the comfort of your warmth to thrust into you. the pace is slow at first, sensual grinds against each other as he stretches you out, moulding your walls into the shape of his cock.

it’s not until bakugou’s hips reach a certain angle, prodding against your sweet spot that things take a turn. a high pitched squeal dances through the room, mingling with the sound of your lover’s harsh thrusts as he claims your insides over and over. he revels in the way you suck him in and squeeze around him, painting his cock with your sweet nectar and earlier releases. “taking me so fucking well little one,” bakugou spits out through gritted teeth, barely hanging onto his last thread of sanity, the way you look right now, so flustered and messy with arousal almost pushing him over the edge. “look at you taking such a big fat cock in this tiny fucking hole, you love how big i am don’t you?”

you can barely form an answer when your eyes are rolling to the back of your head at the sheer amount of pleasure, incoherent babbles filling the little space between you both, only urging katsuki on. he already knows how much you love the size difference between you. outside of the bedroom, bakugou uses his height to tease you— putting things on the top shelf to watch you struggle to reach them but inside; he’s absolutely relentless.

he knows you adore the way he uses his larger size to dominate you, stuff your mouth full of his cock or fingers and he adores the way you take him contentedly no matter what.

“mmf— fuck, right there katsuki, feels so good!” you sigh, eyes still closed but your tongue now lolls out of your mouth— creating the perfect lewd picture that your lover will commit to memory. while his large hands sear bruises into your hips he holds still, a free hand comes up to pull down your bottom lip before he spits sweetly into your open mouth. your eyes slowly open to look at him, locking on his ruby stare as you blissfully smile up at him. katsuki swears he almost creams on the spot. “thank you katsu…”

“that’s fuckin’ right princess, thank me for my spit. thank me for making you feel good.” bakugou’s guttural moans dip into low growls, his pace picking up as your iron hot cunt clamps down on him which causes the head of his cock to drag against the spongy spot inside of you— making you see stars and your hips jump to meet the blonde’s erratic thrusts.

hot slick gushes down the your thighs from the sinful way he moves and absused your tightness, evidence of your arousals shining under the moon that slips through his drawn curtains. you can feel his balls slap feverntly against your ass that katsuki spreads apart to plow into you, latex covered length going as far to brush against your womb. each grind, each thrust has your moans rising an octave to the point where your lover has his hands clamped over your mouth to keep you from being too loud.

bakugou sits back on his haunches, pulling you up into his chest with him. you rest weakly in his lap as the explosive boy angles his thrusts upwards and straight into your oozing heat. a broken whimper breaks free from his lips as katsuki catches sight of the slight tummy bulge his fat cock gives you and you see it too, your own whines mingling with his to form a lovers tune.

he knows you’re close by the way you suddenly become tighter and he fucks into you, deeper, harder, faster.

“close katsu, ‘m getting close…” you slur into his shoulder, biting at his skin to keep control of your hazy, lust filled mind. you paint love bites in shades of blues and indigos across the canvas of his shoulders and neck while katsuki uses his pure strength to lift you up and down onto his cock. he groans every time your heat welcomes him again, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. your nails dig into his back, forming sweet creasent moons and making him moan loudly. “gimme it little one, gimme your fuckin’ cum, gonna cream on my cock? yeah? oh fuck yeah…”

his lewd words are what push you off the edge, the coil of desire that had been building up inside you finally snapping. your third release of the night gushes all over your lover’s thick girth, which he still pushes into you, helping you ride out your high. black spots paint your vision as you cum, cunt clamping down on bakugou while he chases his own release.

“cum for me bakugou, please…” you breath gently against his skin, pressing small kisses over his sore love bites. “love you so much, please…”

that’s all he needs to hear from you before spilling his seed into the condom with a shout, twitching as he collapses onto the soiled sheets of his bed with you. the pair of you lay together, still locked together  while bakugou calms down from his high in slow grinds, fingers searching for yours to intertwine your tiny hands with his. “love you more dumbass,” he says eventually, smile on his face betraying him against the harsh petname.

you smile at him even as he pulls away to throw away the condom, returning with a wash cloth to clean you both up. “not true, katsuki, i love you most!” you exclaim, tail end of your words falling into a stream of giggles as bakugou presses a flurry of kisses to your face. “with every inch of my body!”

“must not be a lotta love then, y’know, since you’re so fuckin’ tiny.” the blonde hums into your hands  when they reach up to cup his face lovingly.

you huff and pinch his cheek after that, calling him a meanie.

but katsuki bakugou doesn’t care, he’ll always love you, no matter how tiny you are.

[earlgreydream]

after.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. loki, but he's so rough during sex, it hurts, and aftercare is absolute bliss afterwards? & AFTERCARE WITH LOKI 

a/n: I’m combining these requests. love dom!loki and soft!loki

cw: dark!loki, sliiiiight dubcon (consensual), aggression, general rough smut, spanking, light anal play, brief exhibitionism, mild degradation, implied subspace, etc

“Are you about done acting out?” Loki asked you, his lips just below your ear, sending chills down your spine. You were sat on his lap on the throne, and you’d spent the last hour or so grinding against him while he was trying to have important meetings with Thor and the royal guard.

“I don’t think so,” you confessed, biting back a smile. You were enjoying riling him up, getting revenge for the many times Loki had tortured and teased you. 

“My darling, my patience with your disobedience is wearing thin,” Loki warned, and you rolled back, putting significant pressure on his rock-hard length below you.

Loki made a throaty noise, and Thor cut off mid-sentence. 

“Continue, brother,” Loki ordered, and Thor gave the two of you a look before he continued speaking. Loki’s hands gripped your waist, trying to keep you from squirming and rubbing your ass against him. 

“If you do not stop, I will fuck you on this throne in front of this entire room of people. You want to be seen acting like a whore so bad, I’ll let you.”

His words echoed down your spine, and your face heated, a visible blush spreading across your skin. You felt his dark laughter against your back, pleased with the way the threat suddenly turned you shy.

His knees pushed your legs apart and you were shaking your head, pleading soft apologies to Loki. Your confidence and deviance crumbled, and you were weak at his fingertips. You very suddenly came to regret your actions, and Loki hummed against your shoulder, warning you against trying to close your legs.

Thor kept speaking, but his eyes narrowed as Loki’s hand moved to your front, very openly cupping your sex in your skirt, in front of everyone. Your skin was burning, the heat spreading over your body in a blazing fire of need and embarrassment.

“Loki...” you whimpered, and he hushed you. Thor tripped over his words as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Thor watching Loki play with you. You knew what to say to stop Loki, but you couldn’t, because a sick part of you was secretly enjoying this.

A strangled whimper escaped you as Loki pushed his fingers forward particularly hard. Thor stopped speaking completely, watching Loki’s glistening fingers slide in and out of your soaked pussy. You hadn’t worn any panties under your dress, wanting to work Loki up as much as possible.

Truly, you hadn’t expected to be punished like this. Loki wasn’t often a fan of public humiliation, but seeing how wet it made you, and how you suddenly got shy and obedient was all the convincing it took.

You bit your lip fiercely, struggling to keep from squealing and crying out. Loki mouthing along your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear about Thor watching you get your pussy filled with his fingers, didn’t help you stay quiet and still.

“Loki, please,” you were begging, what for, you weren’t sure.

“Please what, little one?” Loki was going to make you work for it. Your whole body tensed as the coil tightened in your belly, Loki’s fingers stroking the spot that had your mind shutting down.

“I need to come,” your plea came out much louder than intended, but it made no difference, everyone in the room had their eyes locked on you since this started.

“Go on then, scream my name to all of our subjects, let them know who you belong to.”

The coil snapped and you orgasmed with a scream, Loki’s name echoing through the high ceilings of the throne room. Your legs were shaking and you grabbed his forearms to steady yourself, your release dripping down your thighs and onto Loki’s lap.

A high pitched shriek was ripped from you when Loki slapped your sensitive core, and you jolted from the sting. Even Thor flinched slightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy a second time, drawing out your humiliation and adding pain to the punishment. Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, and Loki mocked your embarrassment.

“Shy, little one? You didn’t seem so shy when you were misbehaving all evening.”

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and draping you over his shoulder. Your skirt was still flipped up, revealing your ass and slick, swollen cunt to everyone you walked by. The tears were now falling freely, and you squirmed helplessly.

Loki slapped where your ass met the back of your thigh, leaving a handprint, the sound bouncing off of the walls. You cried out in pain as he squeezed the area before carrying you through the throne room.

“We’ll have to finish this meeting later!” Loki called after himself, parading you through the halls as he took you to his chambers. When you started to speak to apologize, he spanked you, not wanting to hear it.

Loki practically threw you on the bed, and he tore off your dress, leaving you naked. His own clothes vanish in a glimmer of green, and you were caught under his sadistic, predatory gaze.

“On your knees,” Loki commanded, and you scrambled to obey, kneeling before him as he leaned against a golden wall. Magic bound your hands behind your back, and the tip of Loki’s cock brushed your lips.

“If you resist me, I’ll let Thor use your mouth next,” Loki threatened, getting you to immediately open your mouth so he could slip inside.

His pale fingers threaded into your hair and found a grip, holding you steady as he fucked your throat. Tears rolled down your cheeks faster than before, and all you could do was kneel before your king and take him. You did your best to please him, hollowing your cheeks and humming around him, trying to get him to come faster. You were choking and unable to breathe, and the feeling of your struggle had Loki coming in hot ribbons down your throat, shooting his seed straight into your tummy.

You gasped for air, heaving oxygen into your lungs when he pulled out, your head dropping forward as you caught your breath.

“You will not disobey me again.” Loki smacked your cheek lightly and you immediately answered.

“No, Loki.”

His hand wrapped around your arm and he lifted you to your feet, your hands becoming free from the bonds. You thought you were free until he hauled you onto the bed, your wrists being secured to the headboard as you laid on your stomach. Fear prickled up your spine, knowing your punishment wasn’t over.

You’d learned your lesson about teasing Loki and being disobedient, and after this you swore to yourself you’d never do it again.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” your voice was quiet, and Loki looked at you silently.

“Pull your knees to your chest,” he ordered, and you did so before letting your head fall back down onto the duvet.

He stared at you, bent over and exposed for him, prolonging your anxious anticipation. He moved behind you, out of your view. You felt the bed dip behind you, Loki kneeling on the bed, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. He traced the red handprint on your ass, making you twitch slightly at the touch.

Something cold and made of metal slid through your folds, making you jump.

“I’ll slap you if you move again,” Loki’s tone was stern, and you held still, wondering what the tear-shaped object was for. He gathered your arousal on it, and you jerked your hands fruitlessly against the magic as he pressed it lightly to your tight ring of muscle.

Barely a second passed before his hand connected with your skin, leaving another stinging handprint on your backside.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need it, I’ll behave,” you promised, stumbling over your words as you weakly protested the metal being slowly pushed into your ass.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to see your pretty hole stretch around this gold plug,” Loki’s voice dripped with sadistic pleasure, sending shivers through your body.

You hid your face in the duvet, fighting not to squirm away as he slowly pressed it inside of you. The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable, and incredibly shameful. Your body betrayed you, displaying your cunt growing wetter as Loki eased it all the way inside of you. A choked whine of pain tumbled from your lips, but you didn’t use your safe word. You hated the feeling of being stretched but you knew you deserved it for your misbehavior, and you didn’t want to object to Loki.

He leaned back on his heels and admired you, the gold peeking out of your slightly trembling body. He watched you shake from a mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, overstimulation, and utter and complete ecstasy, a devious smile pulling at his lips.

He was painfully hard again, and he very much intended to tear you up before forgiving your transgressions. His anger has now faded, though he was enjoying scaring you a healthy amount. He enforced his rules, and taught you what happened when you disobeyed.

You knew he wouldn’t be merciful and let you off, and you were thankful he’d let you come at his fingers, even if it was in the presence of the throne room.

You laid in front of Loki, moaning loudly as he fucked into you with one thrust. Your muscles burned as they stretched to try to accommodate his size, but he offered no reprieve before snapping his hips against yours, railing you. He pushed on the gold, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your mind melted from the sensation of being painfully full.

You couldn’t help but cry as Loki brutally fucked you, abusing your aching core as he hit your cervix, buried deeper in you than you thought possible. You were choking on oxygen, your mind completely empty as you took him in, searching for pleasure.

The pain of how hard he was fucking you had tears flowing thick down your cheeks and choked whimpers escaping you. Loki brought a hand around to your clit, taking pity on you and giving you some relief to the sharp pain. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, taking me so well, like a good, obedient slut,” Loki finally offered you some praise, even if it was slightly degrading.

The words soothed over your fright, and your eyes rolled back as he slammed into you, your mind fading. His thrusts became less rhythmic, his hips stuttering. You were familiar with the feeling, and in a few seconds, you felt him spill into you, pumping you full of his release and coating your aching walls with the sticky white seed. You sighed softly in relief as he pulled the metal from you, tossing it aside. He slowly eased out of your sex, his magic dissolving the bonds on your wrists.

You fell limp once you were no longer restrained, and Loki admired your fucked-out body. Your mind was cloudy and a shudder wracked your body as you adjusted to the sudden relief.

“Little one,” Loki spoke softly, the usual gentleness returning to his voice. His hands smoothed gently up your back, green sparks penetrating into your muscles and dissolving some of the ache. 

You hummed weakly, acknowledging Loki calling out his term of endearment for you. Your breath caught as he flipped you onto your back, and you winced as the aching between your legs became a painful throb, the endorphins wearing off.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” Loki’s fingers tenderly brushed over your cheek, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. 

“We’re going to get you cleaned up, alright? It’s over now,” Loki leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and hugging him. 

“I need you to speak, darling.”

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice raspy from Loki brutalizing your throat. He laughed softly, kissing your cheek and wiping the remaining tears that were staining your skin.

“I love you more than all of the stars.”

You whimpered as he lifted you, carrying to into the basin and stepping in with you. The warm water engulfed your body, filled with salts and oils from the finest markets of Asgard. Loki rested you against his broad chest, careful of your muscles. 

He lifted a glass from a small table next to the tub, putting it to your lips and urging you to drink the water. You ignored the soreness in your throat and leaned back against Loki’s stable body, swallowing the contents of the glass. Loki took his time cleaning you up, gently lathering your body with sweet-scented soaps. 

He massaged your head as he washed your hair, brushing his fingers through the locks. You’d been turned around for that, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he worked shampoo and conditioner through your hair. He’d pestered you to eat some of the grapes from a bowl nearby, kissing your forehead and praising you. 

“I’m sorry for teasing,” you apologized softly, and Loki gently adjusted you so you were looking up at him. He tilted your chin up, gazing down at you with love and lightly pecking your lips before speaking.

“I’m not angry. You don’t need to be sorry anymore,” he promised, holding you in his arms, trying to snap you out of your foggy headspace.

You protested to being lifted out of the bath, and Loki hushed you gently, drying you off and helping you into silk clothing. Your legs were weak and you held onto Loki’s arms as you stood by the hearth. He helped you onto the lounger, snuggling you into his chest and handing you a piece of bread with honey drizzled over it. You ate it and curled up into your warm lover, basking in his attention as he cared for you. He lifted a book from the table and began to read to you, his smooth voice lulling you into dreams. He pressed into your mind, filling your head with sweet thoughts and guarding you against nightmares. 

He listened to your steady heartbeat as he played with your hair and the fabric draped over your body. He loved how sweet and cuddly you got after sex, blissed-out and your mind empty except for a desire to be close to him. He adored you, and everything about you, and these moments of closeness were his favorite. 

[nightwishesworld]

Jealous

Warning: NSFW

You sat up on the bed once Alcina kneeled in front of you. She began to take off your pants while you unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more smooth skin. Alcina kissed your navel and guided your pants down your legs. Your body tingled as her lips began moving slowly below your navel. You opened your mouth, but only air seeped out of it. She continued to kiss and nibble your lower torso, simultaneously guiding her hands across your butt cheeks. You reached behind her head and tried to fight the urge to push her down to where you really want her. Instead, you grabbed Alcina’s chin and leaned down to kiss her.

Your tongues continued to passionately dance around each other as she gently pushed you to lie back and climbed on top of you. At the same time, you subtly started thrusting your hips against her, getting more and more aroused.

“Wait-“ You push her away and look towards the bedroom doors. She gives you a curious look but doesn’t hesitate to give you space. “I forgot I’ve got Jacob bringing me my tea. He should be here any minute.”

She rolls her eyes and continues her assault on your neck. “Is that all? Forgive me, I thought it was something important.” Alcina began moving her lips down from your neck to your shoulder. Each section of skin that was explored by her tongue made you moan, and every time she found a spot she hadn't previously kissed, your moans became more intense. “I don’t like him.”

“I know you don’t,” you say with a shaky voice. “I don’t flip over him either, but he’s one of our best staff.”

“He wants you. He looks at you like I look at you.” She bites down on your collar bone. “Like he wants to worship your body day in and day out.”

You held her head in place, one hand behind her head, and the other stretched out to grip the bedsheets. “No need to be jealous, Alci. I am loyal to you and only you. Besides, he knows his place.”

"That doesn't mean he gets to admire what isn't his."

You could feel yourself slipping, losing control, becoming more in tune with Alcina's body, and less present with the real world. The thought of what was happening made your heart skip a beat. Alcina pushes a stocking-covered thigh between your bare ones, and you gasp at the pressure. Alcina’s eyes light up at your reaction.

"I'm going to fuck you all night," She growled when your mouths finally parted, her fingers reaching under your clothes and curling inside you.

"Yes, Al!" You groaned as Alcina smiled lewdly at you. The hand between your legs never relented, soft fingers probing into warm, wet depths. The other hand came up to cup your breast. Then, you felt lips and tongue working over your nipple.

You gasped, and squirmed, your senses on fire.

“That bastard thinks he can have you, my porumbel mic? Fuck no. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You nodded and bucked your hips slightly, feeling her fingers surge into you deeper.

You gasped as the kisses trailed lower, and could feel Alcina’s tongue working over your soft skin. The matriarch pressed her body tightly against you and slowly slid lower, positioning herself between your legs, now spread and held in place.

Alcina’s eyes were filled with lust and the heavy feeling of power, as she looked up at the beautiful woman held captive and in her thrall. The heavenly scent of your arousal filled her nose, and Alcina’s mouth started to water. Her fingers were still inside her lover, and the vampire could feel how tight and aroused you were.

"You are mine and mine alone. Do you understand me?"

You groaned softly and nodded. "Yes, Lady Dimitrescu.”

Alcina smiled at her title and rewarded her love with a slow, trailing kiss over the inside of your thigh that caused you to squirm. She slowly removed her fingers, leaving you squirming and whimpering.

"What, porumbel mic? Do you want something?"

"Please, Alci...."

"Please what?"

You only whimpered, and it made Alcina smile. The dominant woman pressed the tips of her fingers gently against your wet, swollen opening and entered you again, setting a much faster pace this time. The instant vibration made your hips buck, and you cried out in pleasure.

Slowly, Alcina pushed deeper into you, watching you squirm and writhe.

Alcina leaned down and inhaled your scent again. It was too much to bear. She leaned forward and kissed your sex.

The sensation of Alcina’s tongue and lips against your clitoris was ecstasy. You couldn't stop the cries of bliss that escaped your lips.

Alcina dove into your swollen womanhood; her fingers pressed deeply inside you now, her lips and tongue working over your soft nether lips.

The feeling of your thighs brushing against her face, convulsing around her head, your hips bucking against the vampire’s face was so sensual, so sexy, it made her ravenous.

Alcina’s tongue flicked your clit again and again and again to lap around your nether lips, trying to catch the delicious nectar of your arousal.

You could feel her tongue as it traced lovingly over your sex, never a single spot left unkissed.

She could feel you coming closer and closer to orgasm; the fine muscles clenching around her fingers told her of what was about to come.

"Not yet, my beautiful, not yet," she murmured, as she slowly pulled her tongue from your throbbing pussy. She smiled in pleasure as she heard you whimper as she removed her fingers.

You suddenly felt empty, almost painfully so as you hovered so close to orgasm. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu. Let me cum please.”

You look up to see her staring at the bedroom doors. Her eyes are glowing with mischief.

“Is he there, Alci?” You ask in a low voice.

She only hums in response, never breaking eye contact with the door. “He must have heard you. His heart rate is rising. Wanna get rid of him?”

You bite your lower lip in an attempt to try and hide your broad smile. “Wanna give him a show? Remind him who I belong to?”

“I thought you would never ask.” She kissed you quickly and stood before you lost control again, making her way to the bedside drawer.

You feel yourself become wetter as you watch her slip her dress off and exchange it for a strap-on and harness. “Eight inches, darling?”

You nod your head eagerly.

Alcina grabs you by the waist and flips you over effortlessly. You turn to smirk back at her, letting her know you’re on board by climbing up to your hands and knees and slowly swaying your hips from side to side. Alcina’s eyes glint back at you and she makes a soft noise of appreciation, hands running slowly up your thighs before smoothing over the round globes of your ass and gripping your hips. You shiver, desperate for Alcina to be back inside you.

"Please don't tease, I need you." She lines up the toy with your entrance.

"Think you take the whole thing at once?" She asks.

"Oh yes." That was all she needed to hear before she slowly pushed the full length into you, filling your pussy. "Oh fuck! Yes, fill me, baby. Don't hold back, fuck me hard. I want the whole castle to know how good you fuck me.”

That was already the plan.

She starts with a slow pace as she stretches you. Even when you’re blinded with ecstasy and wanna be fucked into the mattress, ALCINA always makes sure to be careful with you. But right now, you are far too impatient for her to be gentle. You squirm and tried to squeeze your thighs together.

She kisses your shoulder, withdraws the cock slowly one more time, and then slams into you hard. She doesn’t don't tease anymore. She’s fucking you hard and fast. As deep as she can. The sound of your flesh hitting the toy as it moves in and out fills the room, it sounds absolutely obscene. You let out a moan.

“Louder, Love, I want the entire staff to know you belong to me. I want HIM to hear me fuck you.”

You cry out her name as she turns you around and lifts you. Your legs wrap around her waist as your arms go around her neck. She bounces you up and down on her cock and you yell out her name.

"Alci, please, oh Lady Dimitrescu yes! I love you so fucking much!" She looks pleased enough.

Her vampiric senses are telling her Jacob is still standing just outside of the door. His heart rate is frantically climbing. His ear must be pressed flat against the door listening to your euphoric cries. It turned her on knowing her “rival” right outside listening to her fuck you senseless; claiming you as hers.

She then brings her hand to your clit. She must have really meant it when she said she wants everyone working at the castle to know that you are hers and hers alone. You let out a loud cry, her hand on your clit is driving you so close to the edge.

You’re thankful Alcina can carry you without a problem. Because there is no way you’re going to be able to walk any time soon. "Fuck Alci. I’m so close baby. I’m gonna cum- I'm going to come on your cock. Please don't stop, Alci, I am all yours and only yours!”

She bites down hard into your neck. Not sinking her fangs into you, but more than hard enough to leave you marked. “That’s right, porumbel mic, you belong to me and only me. You’re a slave to my love and no one else gets to feel it. Do know how good you look? How fucking tight you are on my cock?” Alcina growls darkly, moving back to nibble at your neck, hips still moving to fill you. “So fucking good, better than I ever dreamt.”

Her mouth drops sloppy kisses at your nape, exerted, choked moans released with them as Alcina fucks you into oblivion. She's nearly sobbing, short of breath, broken encouragements barely articulated as she moves her pelvis as best she can.

“Come for me, Love, I'm so damn close...shit, you feel so good, come for me, yes...”

Alcina’s commands whispered into your neck finally send you over the edge; you push back into her until it hurts, wanting as much of Alcina Dimitrescu as you can take, cresting with a strangled scream. Your body convulses, white-hot from head to toe as your neck snaps back and momentarily blinded to everything that isn't raw sensation. You collapse down on Alcina’s front and she reaches back to thread her nails through your hair as she thrusts erratically, and comes shortly afterward with a guttural moan.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, simply basking in the afterglow before Alcina shifts to remove the toy from inside you. She laid you down carefully on the mountain of decorative pillows

After regaining some of her composure, Alcina lifts you off the cock as tenderly as possible and tucks you under the covers. You move to pull the covers down on her side and wait for her to join you in open arms. She kisses the top of your head while undoing the harness. "In a minute, darling."

She slips the harness off and tosses her dress on, making her way to the doors.

"Where are you going?" The vampire only turns back to wink at you before swinging the door open to find the servant adjusting his trousers. Alcina glares down at him, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as if she isn't aware of what he was doing.

"L-lady Dimitrescu," he bowed. "I was just bringing some tea to-"

Alcina takes the now cold tea from his trembling hands. "I find it incredibly unprofessional of members of my staff to be eavesdropping on my private affairs."

His face flushed a deep scarlet. "I-I'm so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu. I had no intention on-"

"You're lucky your employment falls under my partner's jurisdiction; if it were up to me you would be stripped of your employment here and right to wander my corridors. My daughters would haul you off to the basement to do with you what they wish, is that what you want?"

Jacob shook his head vigorously. "No, Lady Dimitrescu. I beg for your forgiveness, this will never happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't or else your fate will be in the hands of my daughters. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Lady Dimitrescu."

"Good. Any repeat offenses will not be tolerated from this moment on. Now go and fetch us a pitcher of water and a bottle of Sanguis Virgini," Alcina steps away from the door just enough for the man to peer in the room. His jaw almost hits the floor when he sees you laying in bed naked under the sheets, chest rising and falling in rhythm with your heavy breathing, and the obviously used cock and harness abandoned on the floor. If he were paying more attention to Alcina he would have noticed the very proud smile on her face as he's put back in his proper place. "My poor porumbel mic is simply exhausted."

"I'll return with your drinks as quickly as possible, Lady Dimitr-" She slams the door on him and returns to join you in bed.

"Was that really necessary, my love?"

Alcina shimmies out of her dress and climbs into bed with you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you against her. "No, but it was certainly fun. You should have seen the state we put him in," she laughs and kisses your shoulder. "He'll be back again shortly with my wine and water. I'm afraid I was a little too rough with you."

"But you're forgetting something, Alci."

"What's that, dear?"

"I love it when you're rough with me."

[pleasantanathema]

Haunting

Paring: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Shower sex, rough sex, possessive sex, light choking, dirty talk, slight yandere undertones 

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested this! I have a very, very soft spot for Reiner thanks to @present-mel​. I, once again, got a little carried away. I’ve been wanting to Reiner for a long time now, so thank you for giving me the encouragement and the idea to do so! 💕 My requests are still open 

          Reiner was like a shadow, always finding you, always haunting you with heavy footsteps and flaming eyes, a revenant with wrath in his hands and agony between his knuckles. He’d always grip you too tightly, leaving bruises to swell and bloom upon your skin when he was gone again. But he never strayed for too long, the demons in his mind were always begging to be satiated, always craving to take more of you.

           Tonight was no different. You heard him before you felt him, weighted boots clunking into a wall as he removed them, the shrill of the shower curtain being pulled back as he exposed the cold air of the washroom against your heated skin. You jumped at the intrusion, arms instinctively wrapping around your body as you looked up at him, gaze tracing the steam that billowed over his broad shoulders. The lighting was low, dull yellow lights buzzing on the ceiling that carved him into a dark figure before you.

           “I’ve been looking for you,” he spoke the words like they were a universal truth, something that already was and always would be.

           You felt overwhelmed in his presence, his mountainous stature making you step away until your back hit the shower wall, feet cold against the tile floor.

           For a moment, you wondered if anyone else was in the showers, if there would be any untoward ears to listen to the depravity that was about to unfold. Reiner was never good at keeping you quiet.

           “Looks like you found me.”

           You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your cheeks as he stepped into the warm spray of water, rivulets dripping down his body like rivers between lines of muscle.

           His massive hands were on you in haste, always attracted to the most vulnerable parts of you. It made him feel powerful to have a fist around your throat, the other shoved between your thighs as his mouth descended upon yours. You moaned against his greedy mouth, his lust making you feel confident, brave against his brawn. You could feel the desire steaming off his skin as your hands pooled against his chest, fingers lost against plush pectorals.

           “Miss me?” he rumbled against your lips, tongue sweeping into your mouth before you could answer. You nodded your head, feeling his thumb and index finger press tighter against the column of your neck. You gasped against the taste of him—bitter and sweet, like elderberries and dark wine—his fingers between your thighs spreading your pussy, gliding between your wet folds in a familiar rhythm.

           His fingers were wicked and well-trained, the wrath within them always coming alive against your body. No matter how many times you begged him not to, he’d always leave fresh prints against your throat, ghosts to remember him by, to ward off others. And he was brutal with your cunt, thick fingers plunging into your delicate heat quick and hard, the pleasure feeling like the jolting bite of a viper.

           “Fuck, Reiner…” he ate up your words, sucking at your lips as your thighs spread wider to accommodate his ravenous fingers.

           One of your hands tangled in his wet hair, nails scraping at the blonde roots. The other trailed down the wall of his body to where his hard cock was twitching against your belly, impatient and ready to take what belonged to him.

           He roughly pumped two fingers in and out of you, smirking as he felt your body shaking and reacting to his touch. It felt so good, too good, heat rushing through your veins with every fresh plunge into your pussy. You slanted your mouth against his in a breathy moan, the stubble against his cheeks brushing against your face. You wrapped your hand around his cock, sliding your palm against the wet, silken skin, splashes of hot water still spilling over your bodies.

           “Such a pretty plaything,” he groaned, releasing your neck from his paw so his mouth could dip down to suck at your skin, “always ready to spread your legs for me.”

           “I have to be ready, you—fuck, you always want me.”

           Pride welled within your chest as he gave an affirmative groan, your head lolling back against the chilled brick of the shower wall. You always hated these dank showers, though now you were sure to have pleasant memories whenever you stepped into this one; memories of a colossal body pressing into yours, of a man so overcome with lust he would hunt you down and take you even here.

           You disliked him when you first met him, loathed how he coated himself in arrogance. But over time you found the cracks within his armor, found the broken man underneath who seemed to piece back together whenever he could get his hands on you, pour his sin into where your bodies became one.

           Reiner curled his fingers inside of you, making your vision flash white for a moment. Your gripped his cock a little tighter as your stomach muscles clenched from the pleasure, your pussy pulling his fingers in deeper.

           “I’m gonna...I’m gonna cum if-if you don’t stop, and I know you want me too…” he always wanted you to cum on his cock.

           He licked a wet stripe up your neck with his tongue, smirk painting his face as he relinquished his hand from your dripping cunt. He washed his fingers off under the spray of water, lips back to yours as he crushed your thighs within his hands.

           “Up,” he commanded, too easily coaching your feet from the floor with his strength. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his broad shoulders providing ample support for your balance. You felt his too-hard cock bounce against your body as he heaved you into the air.

           “Been thinking about this all day, princess.”

           “Thinking about me in the shower?”

           His cockhead nudged at your folds, carefully spreading you apart. You sucked in a breath at the feeling, Reiner’s hands sliding to cup your ass, fingers mean against your flesh.

           He snapped his hips forward, plunging his cock into your depths in one swift motion, sending your head flying back against the wall as your mouth fell open with the drawl of a long moan, eyes squeezed shut as your body attempted to adjust to his almost unbearably fat cock.

           “Mhm, been thinking about that face, how you look so pretty when I stuff you,” he rocked his hips, sliding his cock from within your tight pussy only to slam back inside, “just like this.”

           Curses tumbled out of your throat, onto your lips, falling onto his wet skin and bouncing off the walls of the shower. You felt so full, like some missing part of you was finally shoved back into place to make you whole. Yet you felt like you were cracking, coming undone around the saturation of your senses. Your lungs burned, legs already aching from being spread across his thick waist, neck still stinging from the ghost of his fist.

           “Oh god, oh god, that’s so good.”

           It never failed to amaze you that every time felt new, that his cock always sent you spinning and gasping and clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling into a ravishing abyss.

           Each thrust had your shoulders banging against the wall, jostles of pain and pleasure tingling through your body. You rolled your hips down to meet him, though his tight grasp on your body kept you steadily in place as he pounded into your pussy, a mixture of water and slick pooling where your bodies were joined.

           He looked up at you with a cocky grin, one ready to split his handsome face, canine teeth bared as he watched your body bounce from his callous actions.

           “Who owns you?”

           Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, your mind too blissed out to answer him right away. He took this as a sign that you needed to be reminded, needed his cock pushed into you harder and faster to find your words.

           “Fucking say it!”

           “Ah-ah, you! Shit, fuck, you, Reiner, yours!”

           He roared with satisfaction at your confession, wicked laughter mixed into his grunts and groans as he continued to use your body for a means to his own end. Your head hung low, resting against one of your arms that still held on too tightly to his neck. Your moans were overshadowed by his sounds, high pitched mewls bleeding into the chorus of growls from his chest and the beating of cooling water against the tiles.

           “Louder, I want the whole goddamn barracks to hear you, let them hear how good I make you feel.”

           You screamed as he picked up his already inhuman pace, strangled whines fed by the curling, toiling ecstasy building within your belly, swirling and climbing up your limbs, ready to burst from your core.

           “Reiner, Reiner, Reiner...”

           It was a cry to the heavens, a call to a god that had already enraptured you, ensnared you into his brutal arms like you’d never touch the earth again.

           “Think you can do it, princess? Think you can cum just from my cock splitting you apart?”

           God you could, you would, you were so fucking close, every single time his cock buried itself inside of you, you felt that hot thread of sanity threatening to rip, ready to tear apart.

           He shifted your weight slightly, that iron grip on your backside sliding up to your hips, angling you to take him deeper, to have your clit brushing against the thatch of golden curls at the base of his cock. The new stimulation set you alight, had your lucidity burning away as your pussy clenched and sucked at his cock. The lewd sounds of your sloppy cunt hit your ears, the sound and sensation of his balls slapping against your ass cheeks, of his deep, pleasured rumbles echoing against your chest. It was enough, enough to have you crashing into a fiery lake of pure ecstasy.

           “Fuck, Rei-ner,” his name stayed on your tongue, a continuous, honeyed sound of bliss as your world fell apart. You felt your orgasm in your toes, in your ears, even your too-numb fingers that were sunk into the sinews of his shoulders. Every nerve ending was bursting, bright and hot and too much as your pussy fluttered around his thick cock. In your delirium, you’d barely noticed that he’d stopped, that he was holding you flush against him as he poured himself inside of your body.

           It wasn’t until his cum was leaking out of you that you awoke from the pleasure-induced state.

           You felt used, useless, body so heavy against him, in his arms, that you felt like you were falling when he set you back onto unsteady feet. And, for the first time, you clung to him afterwards, face pressed into his chest where his heart hammered away. He caged you into a sweet embrace, big hands smoothing over your wet hair as you shivered from the chill of the water gone cold.

           “Don’t,” you took in a sharp breath, calming the rush of afterglow emotions flooding your nerves, “don’t leave this time.” You felt like he’d shattered you. There was an urge inside of you to linger with him, to keep near in order to find that euphoria again, to feel whole again.

           “You never want me to stay,” he whispered, lips kissing at the crown of your head.

           You normally never did. Usually, it was about this time that you’d feel disgusted with yourself for letting such a beast of a man use you whenever he felt like it, but tonight was different. You felt the haunting stop; you felt him real and full against the borders of his composure, felt like you were both broken, broken and needing to be repaired again.

           You pulled yourself from his too-heavy arms, quickly shutting off the stream of the water so you could grab at a towel and wrap it around yourself for warmth.

           “I need you,” to stay, you meant to finish, but the words spoken hung in the air to be caught by keen ears.

           Reiner stood behind you, palms brushing down your arms as he kissed your dewy neck, tongue eager to drink from your skin.

           You’d never felt his touch so gentle, never felt the burdens he carried within his fingers to be so weightless.

           “I know you do.”

           You weren’t sure if he said it for you or for himself.

           You followed him to his room that night, body aching to be touched again, to be held, to be soothed away by the shadow that haunted you.

[teeth-farie]

Kinktober Day 6: Bondage | Shibari

Lucio/GN Reader

☞. . . I’m not too happy with this one, specifically with how much bondage is involved, but I hope you all enjoy it :)

He’s gone the entire day with your ropes wrapped around his body. He’d even wore a shirt that didn’t show his chest, much to his own distaste. You told him that the fun was in keeping it a secret. To be quite honest, Lucio didn’t care about who saw it; in fact, he liked being on display. But he knew your rules, and you didn’t like to share.

His chambers couldn’t welcome him quickly enough. You’re waiting for him, an extra length of gold rope laying in your lap. Your cool exterior makes him sweat, a calm demeanor that intimidates. “Come here, pet.”

Lucio can’t clamber to you quickly enough, falling onto his knees before you. You pet his head, threading your fingers through his blonde hair. “Let me see those pretty ropes.”

Agile fingers unbutton his shirt, flashes of pale skin and twisting restraints exposing themselves. Shimmering strands of gold rope wrap around his chest and shoulders, dipping down into his waistband. “You did good, keeping these on.” You caress his face, trailing a finger down his jaw. “How about I reward you?” He nods, blood pooling between his legs. You smile, a wolfish grin full of promise and mischief. You stand, circling behind him. His arms are pulled back, crossed behind his back and secured with your rope. “Stand.”

And he does, heeled shoes clicking against the floor as he catches his balance. You’ve thoroughly beat the brat from him, leaving an obedient boy behind, one who craves your attention and affection. Really, it’s surprising what three years of deprivation can cause.

You loop the rope around his neck in a makeshift collar and leash, giving it a testing tug. Lucio groans, following forward in reflex. You take your place sitting on the bed, forcing him to stay standing in front of you. “For your reward,” you begin, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down his thighs. The rope wraps around his thighs and groin, pressing into the joints of his hips. “I’ll let you set the pace.” You grab his cock, giving a few pumps before you become still. “Now, be a good boy and fuck my hand.”

Lucio shivers, slowly grinding against your hand. It’s warm and soft, and all his restraint flies out the window. He rocks his hips, thrusting into your fist with a newfound desperation. It’s hard with his heels, keeping a firm stance, and even harder with his hands tied behind his back. Maybe that’s why you did this—even with a reward, you always make him work for it, make him beg.

You tug the leash and Lucio nearly tumbles forward, stumbling over himself. Inevitably, his forehead comes to rest against yours, amber eyes locked on yours—frenzied and wide. You tighten your fist and he bites down on his lip, the tiny fang of his canines digging into his skin.

You kiss him, just barely brushing your lips against his. His eyebrows furrow, hips pumping, fists clenched behind his back. He wants more, he wants to grab and cling and kiss you harsher. He wants to feel your teeth dig into him, your tongue down his throat, anything.

“You look pathetic like this.” You grin, a lazy smirk gracing your lips. “Humping my hand like a dog.” You tug on the rope again, and Lucio’s nose presses against yours. “Do you want some kisses?” Your voice takes a sweeter lilt. Lucio nods quickly, hissing when your thumb digs into the head. “Yesss,”

“Then bark. Come on, woof like the dog you are.” There’s something sadistic in your eyes, like a haze swirling in your iris. Lucio finds himself wanting to drown in it. The humility burns under his skin. He licks his lips, whining so pitifully as you squeeze the base of his cock.

“Woof,”

The ropes burn tight around his wrists, digging into his throat where you’re so insistently tugging. It teases the idea of strangling him, robbing him of his breath. Maybe, if he’s truly a good boy, you’ll do just that.

You finally allow him to kiss you, and he does so sloppily. He’s urgent, shoving his tongue into your mouth and biting on your lips. You forgo your grip on the makeshift leash to grab his face, pulling him back. “Settle! Is that anyway for you to behave?” You squeeze his cock tightly, a warning that he takes with a choked gasp. Your fingers still press harshly into his cheeks, puckering his lips in a way that only fuels his humiliation. He whimpers, and shakes his head. You relinquish your grip on his face and grab the rope again, wrapping it around your fist. “Sit on my lap, come on.” You widen your legs, offering a thigh for him to clamber up on. Lucio follows your orders, settling on your lap, moaning so pitifully at the feeling of your cool skin pressing against his burning, swollen dick.

You feel behind him, gripping onto the ropes criss-crossing around his arms. You pull on the restraints and his back arches in pure reflex, bending into a near perfect arc. His hips jut forward, smearing precum in your leg.

“There we go, little Lucio. You can have my leg tonight.”

[candy-and-writing]

Loose Ankles

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Pre-Code Writing Challenge. I chose the movie Loose Ankles, where a young woman discovers she has inherited her grandmother’s fortune, but only if she can find and marry a man.

Summary: The night of Harlan’s birthday party, Harlan tells Ransom he’s cutting his family out of his will. No one will get a single red dime. But, still seeing potential in his grandson, Harlan offers Ransom a deal.

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex, tipsy sex, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, low-key Dom Ransom, fluff, Ransom discovering love and not knowing what to do

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. 

Ransom sped down the road, rage seething inside him as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Harlan fucking Thrombey just kicked his family to the curb, his eldest grandson included.

Marta fucking Cabrera was inheriting his fortune. Harlan’s Brazilian nurse. Jesus, this all felt like a bad joke.

But, of course, Harlan wouldn’t just stop there. No, he wanted to make Ransom suffer.

If he could settle down and establish himself, ‘find a nice girl’ as Harlan so blatantly described it, he would give Ransom back his cut of the inheritance. It made Ransom’s blood boil just thinking about it. Ransom Drysdale didn’t date. He didn’t do domesticity. The old man knew that. 

But if it meant he could get his stupid money back, he would do whatever it took. As he pulled into the bar, taking a deep breath, he took his keys out the ignition. He needed a drink if he was going to do this. 

Ransom sat at the bar, nursing his fourth whiskey. There were a couple different girls who looked appealing, all of which Harlan would never approve of. He fished the cherry out of his now-empty glass, waving at the bartender for another drink.

Drumming his fingers on the wood top bar, Ransom caught eyes with a young woman in a booth across the room. You were young, with red painted lips that contrasted beautifully to the black dress you wore. It was modest, the neckline tickling your collarbone and the hem of the dress reaching your knees. A pair of flats donned your feet. You quickly looked away, cheeks flushed and Ransom smiled. You were perfect. Three other people sat in the booth with you, another girl and two guys. You sipped on a glass of rose-tinted wine, your eyes dodging back to Ransom every so often, darting away as soon as you saw he was already looking at you.

Ransom waited almost three hours. The other girl had left with one of the guys, leaving you with the second guy. You didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself—you were fiddling with your thumbs under the table and tapping your foot, smiling awkwardly as the guy laughed at something he said. Something about his dad’s boat. He not-so-subtly kept looking at girls’ asses as they pasted your table, ignoring whatever you were trying to say.

Ransom heard the guy say he was going to the bathroom. Five minutes later Ransom saw him leaving with his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist. You saw it, too. Your face fell. You got up and put a few bills on the table, walking up to the bar. You sat a few seats from him, waving down the bartender.

“Can I get an Amaretto Sour?” you asked, your voice soft and quiet. The bartender nodded as he walked away, grabbing a bottle of Amaretto. You sighed, resting your hand on your chin. Ransom got up, moving to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey.” He smirked, earning himself a pair of wide eyes and flustered cheeks.

“Um—hi.” You gave him a tentative smile. You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink, taking a quick sip.

“I saw what happened,” Ransom said. “That guy’s a dick.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah, he was. That’s what I get for trusting my best friend’s boyfriend, though.”

Ransom smiled, downing the last of his whiskey. He let out a breath, setting his glass down. He watched as you played with the string of pearls hanging around your neck.

“I’m Ransom Drysdale,” he smirked. You told him your name, a sheepish smile spreading over your lips. He repeated your name, testing the way it felt on his tongue. “Can I buy you another drink?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like that.”

You were drunk by the time the bartender kicked you two out. Ransom invited you home with him, his hand resting on your thigh. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, the blush trailing down your neck and to your ears. Ransom smirked at how cute you were, innocent in the way that had his cock throbbing.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sure.”

–

Ransom pushed you up against the door of his house, his lips moving against yours possessively. You whimpered as his hips rutted up against yours, Ransom thrusting his tongue into your mouth. He struggled to fit his key into the lock, turning the doorknob and roughly shoving you two through the door, kicking it shut with his foot.

Ransom grabbed your ass and squeezed, moaning into your mouth. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist, your flats falling off your feet. He carried you up a flight of stairs, his lips working over yours. He stepped into his bedroom and dropped you on his bed, watching you bounce before he pulled his sweater over his head.

He leaned over you, kissing you as he threaded his fingers through yours, pushing them into the mattress on either side of your head. He kissed down your jaw, sucking a dark mark into your neck. He grinded his hips against your center, a gasp leaving your mouth. 

Ransom pushed the skirt of your dress up past your hips, revealing your lacy underwear. Ransom groaned, leaning down to kiss your center through your panties as he massaged your thighs. You sighed, your skin tingling. He swiftly tore the lace down your legs, his mouth latching onto your clit. You squeaked, hips jerking off the bed. He licked a long stripe up your intimate flesh, focusing the tip of his tongue on your bud, earning himself a strangled whine from you.

He devastated you with his mouth, lips latching onto your little bundle of nerves as he pressed his index finger to your entrance. He pushed inside just a little and you gasped. Ransom began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, his tongue working your clit. 

“R—Ransom!" 

Ransom moaned against your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit. He pushed another finger into you, your thighs clenching around his shoulders as you cried out. The pads of his fingers pushed up against your walls, pressing against a certain spot inside of you that had you choking on a moan.

You were burning up, sweat coating your forehead. The coil in your belly was curling impossibly tight, your body on fire as Ransom teased your bundle of nerves. You began to babble, endless pleas of begging until your voice cracked. Ransom smirked against you, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and that was all it took. The coil in your stomach snapped and you screamed, your thighs trembling as your back arched off the bed. 

Ransom rode you from your high until it was just too much. You tried to pull away from him, overstimulated. You whined, your voice cracking, and Ransom finally seemed to get the message. He pulled away, his chin slick with your juices as he hooked his finger under your chin, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, overtly earthy in a way that had you moaning into his mouth.

Ransom pulled away from you, placing a quick peck on your lips. "God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Still blissed-out, you sighed in response, letting Ransom unzip the side of your dress and pull it over your head. He quickly discarded your bra, marveling in your body. He unbuttoned his trousers, shucking them off his legs along with his boxers.

Your breath stuttered in your lungs as Ransom’s length bobbed against his stomach. His tip was painfully red, leaking precum down his shaft. You swallowed, watching as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumping his fist up and down his length. He let out a shaky breath, bending down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

The head of his cock poked at your entrance. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, pushing himself into you slowly. Even after an orgasm, you were still unbelievably tight, clutching Ransom like a vice.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.”

You preened as he bottomed out. Ransom grunted, wrapping your legs around his hips and hugging you close to his chest, carefully rocking his hips up. His thrusts started slow and deep, keeping his pace steady until you’re writhing and mewling for more. His hand reached up and squeezed your breast, rolling his thumb between his thumb and forefinger as he sped up his pace, pounding into you in the most delicious way.

“Fuck!” you cried when Ransom hit a spot deep inside of you, his girth brushing against your walls. “Oh, God! Ransom!”

His hot breath hit your jaw as he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good, babygirl. So fucking good for me.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing down slightly just below your jaw. You gasped, feeling your airway restricted. Your walls fluttered against Ransom’s cock, causing him to groan and tighten his grip on your throat. He cursed into your ear, hips bucking into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. You squirmed violently underneath his grip, whining pathetically as Ransom slammed into you punishingly. The little tears in your eyes and the little noises you make brought something out of him—he squeezed your throat tighter, watching as you writhed beneath him. 

You came with a strangled shout, seizing up and convulsing around Ransom’s length. Ransom dug his fingers into the divots of your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises. With a growl, Ransom pulled out of your slick heat, hot cum coating your stomach.

Ransom released your throat, crashing down on the bed beside you. You wheezed almost painfully, turning on your side as you caught your breath. With a huff of breath, Ransom pushed himself up, opening a door that was adjacent to the bed. You closed your eyes, still coming down from your high. Ransom came back into the room a moment later with a damp rag in hand, pressing it lightly against your stomach.

You hummed. “What’re you doin’?”

“Cleaning you up, baby, just relax." 

You rested your head back against the pillow, letting him wipe you clean. You were half asleep by the time Ransom laid down next to you, pulling the covers over the two of you. When his arm wrapped around your torso, his heat drawing you closer to sleep. 

Ransom listened to your soft and even breaths, something tingling in his chest. He knew he wasn’t going to kick you out in the morning. Something about you was different. He hadn’t had sex that good in a long time—the way you let him take control and do whatever he wanted. Most girls he brought him were needy and loud, but your cute little noises went straight to his cock. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch.

You snuggled up against him, flipping over and burying your face in his chest. 

Ransom was fucked.

–

"Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked, fiddling with your thumbs in the passenger seat of Ransom’s Beemer. “What if they don’t like me?”

Ransom sighed out your name. “Will you stop worrying? They’ll love you. And if they don’t, they can fuck off. The only thing that matters is that I love you.”

You and Ransom had been dating for almost a year. He hadn’t talked to Harlan since the night of his birthday. It turned out you were an assistant at a publishing firm in Boston and with a little pushing from you, he published a best-selling novel. He had done everything his granddad had wanted: he established himself without the help of his family’s money and he’d found a girl. A girl he isn’t planning on letting go. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told Harlan about you—he was worried that you’d think you were disposable, that you were just a means to an end.

It was Harlan’s birthday, exactly a year since Harlan had given Ransom the ultimatum. He was surprised how excited his family was to meet you, certain they had an ulterior motive. 

He pulled into his grandad’s driveway, killing the engine. He sighed, leaning back into his seat.

“Listen,” he said. You turned to look at him, concern flashing behind your eyes. “My family is��� a lot. Just don’t let them get to you, okay? They’re assholes.”

You smiled. “I know, Ran. Just calm down, everything will be okay.”

Ransom leaned over and cupped your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Let’s go inside, okay?” You grabbed the pan of lemon bars you made and waited for Ransom to get out of the car and let him open your door for you. 

Ransom opened the front door for you and you were immediately met with shouting. Ransom helped you out of your coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door, rolling his eyes as Linda’s shrill voice echoed through the house.

“C'mon, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

You set your pan on a beautiful granite countertop as Ransom opened a cupboard. He fished out some expensive brand of cookies just as someone stomped into the kitchen.

“Ransom?” It was Richard. “Hey, when did you get here?”

“Two minutes ago, you’d know that if you weren’t all busy screaming at each other,” Ransom retorted, popping a cookie into his mouth. Richard frowned, about to open his mouth when he noticed you hiding behind Ransom.

“Hello, you must be Ransom’s girlfriend?” You nodded, smiling at him. You told him your name, stepping around the countertop to shake his hand. “Well, why don’t you come into the living area and meet the family, we’ve all been dying to meet you.”

–

Dinner was loud. You were sitting between Ransom and Ransom’s cousin—Meg. Meg kept picking fights with her other cousin, Jacob, who was always on his phone. Linda was yelling at Joni, Meg’s mother, who was going on about her Instagram.

Ransom kept mostly quiet, laughing when he found something amusing. His hand had taken place on your thigh, complimenting you on your lemon bars. You smiled at him, nibbling on a carrot. 

After Linda served Harlan’s birthday cake, everyone moved to the living area. You took the chance to refill your wine glass, quickly disappearing to the kitchen. You found an expensive red wine and filled your glass halfway, taking a small sip. 

“Hello, my dear.” You jumped, turning around quickly. Harlan Thrombey stood a few feet away from you, holding a piece of cake in his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright,” you smiled. “I just needed a refill. I’m not hiding in here, or anything.”

“I’d understand if you were.” Harlan chuckled. “I love my family, but they are… a lot. Ransom seems to be doing well, uncharacteristically so.”

“Yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “He… he was really worried about bringing me here. He doesn’t talk about his family a lot, and when he does, it’s you—I think he was worried about his parents being judgemental.”

Harlan nodded. “Ransom has done well for himself. I hear he’s writing a second book?”

“He is, started working on it a couple weeks ago.”

“And he has a beautiful young woman. I’m glad he finally managed to get his life straightened out.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

“Hey.” Ransom entered the kitchen, carefully walking past Harlan. “You disappeared, I got worried. Everything okay?”

You nodded. “I just needed a refill.”

Linda started shouting for Harlan from the living room. Harlan rolled his eyes, excusing himself before he left the kitchen. Ransom looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What was he talking to you about?”

“Relax, Ransom. He was just telling me how proud he was of you.”

You watched as Ransom let out a breath of relief. You two left the kitchen and sat on a couch in the living area, listening in shock as Richard and Joni discussed politics. At some point during the night, Harlan called Ransom into his study. He kissed your cheek before he got up, closing the door to the study behind him.

–

“What did Harlan want to talk to you about?” you asked Ransom, pulling on Ransom’s old sweater. It had shrunk in the wash and you stole it before Ransom could throw it out.

“He just talked about you, mostly,” Ransom told you. “Said he was proud of me for growing up, for finding someone like you, etcetera. Just stuff like that.”

You smiled, crawling onto the bed to kiss his cheek. “I really like your family. They’re… eccentric.”

Ransom laughed. “Babe, they’re a bunch of dicks. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

You sighed. “I like Harlan. He doesn’t deal with anyone’s bullshit.”

“That he does not. Now, come here.” Ransom grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, kissing you. You threaded your fingers through his short hair, moaning into his mouth. He quickly flipped you onto your back and straddled your hips, pressing your hands to the mattress. You laughed, Ransom leaning down to kiss you again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Dandelion

Rating: G Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 1589

Prompt: Hi! I really like your writing 🥺! Thank you for your hard work❤️❤️! If you don't mind can I request a headcanon about Victor when MC is hospitalized because she is fainted due to her overwork, and when she gain her consciousness she try to leave the hospital because she is worried about the important filming at her office, but Victor chase her and make her back to hospital's bed? I will really happy if you grant my request 🥰🥰

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! I ended up writing this in my usual 2nd person perspective but the experiences are of the MC in the game. If that bothers anyone, oops, you can re-imagine this to be written in 3rd person perspective.

Something like fuzz encroaches at the edges of your vision and your head feels like it's filled with cotton. None of these are good signs and, to be honest, you know you're at your limit after working 60 hours for the past three days.

You're able to get away with this—as well as the enormous pile of energy drinks on your desk—only because Anna is away on a business trip for another project, meaning no one else in the company dares to make you take a break. Oh, there are people who make gentle suggestions to rest but none of them can budge your determination to perfect this important contract you had accepted. Last minute changes had been added to the outline and so, to ensure everything is still on schedule, you have to pull this insane work schedule.

But you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to finish looking through the last 20 pages of this document in front of you.

You rub your forehead to stave off the building tension in your head and reach out with your other hand for a drink. However, your hand only bumps into empty cans around you and you grimace as you realize you have to make another run to the nearby convenience store to buy more drinks.

When you stand up to do just that, extreme vertigo assaults you and your last thought before your vision goes black is 'Oh... this isn't good.'

#

You wake up to an extremely white ceiling.

It's pure white.

It's so white that, for a second, you morbidly wonder if you really overdid it this time. But then the rest of your senses make themselves known and you smell the antiseptic scent of a hospital, you feel the crisp sheets below your hands, and you think you hear someone breathing.

You turn your head to the side and your gaze collides into eyes the color of steel. It's Li Zeyan, and with an incredible scowl no less.

"You're awake."

You struggle to sit up and swing your legs to the side of the bed, but he places a large hand on your thigh immediately, obstructing your movement and pressing you down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Li Zeyan's voice is clipped. Uh oh, someone isn't happy.

"I have to get back to the company."

He gives you an incredulous look. "Do you realize what state you're in?"

His words make you notice you're in a hospital gown and there is an IV drip attached to you. You wince slightly at the sight of the needle in the back of your hand but another thought soon takes over your mind.

"Wait, how long have I been here? Did I miss the deadline?" Your voice rises in desperation and there's a suffocating weight on your chest when you think about how all your earlier work might amount to nothing.

"Idiot, how are you still thinking about work? You truly don't understand your condition. You hadn't had any proper sleep or food and the amount of energy drinks you were drinking was dangerous. Even though you're still young, if you continue like that you could do irreparable damage to your body. You—" He cuts himself off and his eyes widen. "Are you... crying?"

You reflexively reach up to touch your cheek and your fingertips come back wet. You blink and Li Zeyan's figure goes blurry as more tears well up in your eyes.

"Sorry, it's just a physical reaction. Don't mind me. You can keep lecturing. I'm listening," you choke out through a tight throat. Frustration, embarrassment, and mortification strangles you.

You roughly wipe at the tears, wanting them to stop right now before you see the exasperation in Li Zeyan's eyes. Intellectually, you know he's right and you don't want it to look like you're crying to get him to go easy on you. There have been many times where you feel childish and inadequate compared to him and so you don't need to come off even more as a baby throwing a tantrum.

But the tears just won't stop. Your shoulders shake with the effort you use to suppress your sobs.

A hand holding a tissue box appears in your lap.

"Cry it out."

You shake your head like a rattle drum.

"... What haven't I seen?" Li Zeyan's voice is low and even, and it's when he places a hand on your head that your last resistance crumbles.

You hunch over, automatically trying to stifle your gasps, but you end up crying your eyes out anyway.

You cry, and cry, and cry. You cry about the pressure of the deadline. You cry about the fear of not being able to make it. You cry about the anxiety and worry over whether you're doing enough or whether you're good enough. You cry at how hard it is to be be a successful adult.

The entire time you can feel the soft pressure of Li Zeyan stroking your hair.

Eventually, you calm down enough to start pulling wads of tissue out of the box to wipe your eyes and blow your nose as the last of your tears trickle to a stop. All your emotions feel raw and sensitive, but you have to admit you feel a lot better.

Li Zeyan takes your dirty tissues before you can say anything and tosses them into the wastebasket below the bed. Then he levels an unreadable gaze on you and, just as you're about to squirm and open your mouth, he speaks first.

"Why are you working so hard?"

"Huh?"

"No one pushes themselves like this unless there's something very important they're trying to achieve. So, what is it for you?"

"... You're going to think I'm dumb."

He stares at you flatly and you can see that he's clearly thinking it's a bit too late for that.

You look down at the hospital sheets and pick at a loose thread. "I want to catch up to you."

"Idiot." He actually scoffs out loud but continues before you can decide how to react to that, leaning back in his chair. "Do you know why I created Huarui?"

You blink, caught off guard. You know it isn't a family business and that he started the company when he was in his final years of university. But did he ever say why he created it? Because he could? Li Zeyan standing at the top of the world seems as natural as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, so you never questioned it.

He sees your confusion and explains, "I was looking for the girl who saved me when I was a child. I searched for her for 11 years."

Your childhood memories are still vague but you do remember the more recent memory of the film set where you and Li Zeyan had been tricked and how you jumped in front of Li Zeyan to shield him. You can almost feel the ache and burn of the lightning strike again if you think hard enough.

Li Zeyan continues to look at you, his eyes calm without any ripples. "I built Huarui and made it rise to the top because I thought that, if I stood in the highest place I could think of, then she would have an easier time finding me. Of course, the position itself also allowed me to increase the extent of my search for her."

"In the end, I did find you."

A wry smile flashes across his face, so quick you doubt your eyes. "Yes, you found me first, and so my choice wasn't the wrong one."

You know he's trying to tell you something but, try as you might, you can't figure out how the current conversation connects back to the previous one. As the silence grows, you see exasperation appear in Li Zeyan's eyes before he sighs lightly.

"Now, after all these years and efforts, do you think I would walk away? You only need to reach out and I'm right here, waiting for you."

His words crash into you, bringing with them a sudden epiphany and new perspective. You reach out without a thought, as if to touch him and make sure he really is there, but then you realize how silly that looks. Before your hand can drop though, he covers the remaining distance and grabs your hand, wrapping your entire hand within his and entwining your fingers together. The familiar warmth and steady strength makes your eyes sting again and you drop your gaze to your interlinked hands, not wanting him to see you cry again.

You finally realize you've been mistaken all this time. You were being crushed by your own expectations and desires to stand beside him. In your head, you imagined him to be walking ahead of you, his back growing smaller and smaller. But that isn't true at all. Yes, he stands in front of you, but he isn't moving. Instead, his body is turned to yours and he's holding a hand out towards you, waiting for you to take a step. If you fall, he will catch you. If you take a firm step and grasp his hand, he will take another step forward and wait for you there.

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were low and solemn.

"Mm."

Against all odds, you both found each other again and so there is no way either of you will leave the other.

[avintagekiss24]

polar | ari levinson

|| pairing: ari levinson x black!reader

|| word count: 1,827

|| warnings: pure pwp, smut, sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, over-stimulation, crying, multiple orgasms, nipple play

|| note: this was one of the ari headcanons i got when i requested that y’all send me some. hope you like!

You throw your towel to the floor as you turn off the small lamp next to your bed. The moonlight washes into the room as you push open the wooden shutters to let in some of the cool air moving in from the ocean. You take a breath, inhaling the fresh scent of the sea as the water crashes up on the beach. You chew on your bottom lip as you stare out over the dark water, squinting a little to see if you can catch a glimpse of their boats moving towards the coast - but there’s nothing, just miles and miles of water. 

Your mind starts to drift to something dark, something tragic, but you turn away from the window quickly to push them away. He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine. You climb into bed, pulling the thin sheets over your naked body and close your eyes, trying to relax enough to the point where you can actually get some sleep. You roll over onto your side, push your hands underneath your head and pillow, and let out a focused breath.

He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine.

----------

It’s late now. The moon is high in the sky as the waves continue to crash against the beach. You’re breathing is deep and rhythmic as you sleep, your body still. You’re sleeping so soundly, that you don’t hear all of the commotion as Ari, Sammy, Jacob, and Rachel burst into the lobby. You shift a little as the pressure changes in the room and a sudden gust of wind washes over you; but still, you don’t fully wake.

You let out a breath as the bed dips from a new heavy weight that presses into the mattress. You’re rolled over onto your back roughly, the sheets suddenly pulled away from your body. Moaning, you roll your head back and forth, still not coherent, teetering between your dreams and reality. You roll your back against the mattress as your legs are spread open and then hiked into the air. Hands pushing into the back of your thighs. 

You’re eyes flutter, catching quick glimpses of him as he hovers between your legs, his lips mere centimeters from your naked sex. His hair is messy - disheveled - his shirt buttons popped damn near down to his navel. His face is flushed, his eyes dark - it must not have gone well - but then again you can never really tell. He just gets like this sometimes. 

“Ari,” you breathe, “Baby.”

“Shhh.” He coos, wrapping his arms around your thighs. 

“Baby,” you continue to press as you push your hands into his hair, “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He drags his tongue between your folds before he closes his lips over your clit. You nearly choke on your breath as his tongue starts to swirl, his lips sucking on you softly. A light moan falls from your lips as your hips start to roll into his face. He tightens his grip around your thighs, digging his fingers into your thick flesh as he moves his head back and forth. 

You can hear your wetness bouncing off of the walls of the room as he makes a snack of you, his lips smacking like he’s devouring a peach. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp as you pull on his long hair, bucking your hips into his face. His tongue pushes into your opening, stroking your insides before he drags it up along your clit again, flicking at the sensitive bundle. His beard scratches against the inside of your thighs as you close them around his head, heightening the sensation. 

You grab your breasts with your hands, squeezing your flesh gently before you start to pinch and roll your nipples just as he pushes his fingers inside of you. Your hips jerk at the intrusion. You grunt, snarling your lip as he pumps his fingers quickly, pressing his large thumb against your clit as he leans back to watch. You push your hips down, meeting every thrust of his fingers hungrily as you grow louder - becoming unrestrained - not caring who hears. 

He peeks up at you from underneath those long lashes of his, through strands of his hair that fall in his face, from between your quivering legs. The moon highlights the flexing muscles of his arms as he fingers your cunt with every ounce of passion in his body. He leans in and kisses your sticky flesh - a light kiss - one where his lips barely touch your skin. He then puckers his mouth to blow on you, closing his eyes as he pushes warm air onto your balmy sex.

You pinch your nipples harder, “God,” you sound, bucking your hips into his mouth and nose, wanting his lips and tongue again, “Ari,” you choke. 

He chuckles, quiet and low - you shiver at the sound. You love knowing that he loves fucking you. He returns his mouth to you, pulling his tongue through your folds again as he curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your tight, slick muscles. He sucks your lips into his mouth before he releases them with a smack, only to pull your clit into his mouth next. You feel the tip of his tongue, outlining, pressing, flicking and flattening against you - everything that makes you wild. 

You’re writhing now. Your back arches from the mattress. Your legs close around his head and neck. Your whole body starts to shake, quick ripples of the impending apex flooding through you. You push your hips from the mattress, somehow wanting him deeper, closer. Your voice is unrecognizable as you curse and howl, your heart in your throat. You’re so close you can taste it, but you’re also so close it hurts. 

Your sex quakes. Your thighs and hips and stomach burn from the strain of you keeping your lower half thrust into the air. He sucks hard on your clit. His fingers pound into your constricting cunt. You flick your hard, thick nipple as tears start to slip down the sides of your face. 

You start to pray.

“Please!” you whine, your voice strained and thick, “God- please! I jus’ wanna-”

Your hips jerk hard and the beast is unleashed upon you. Your toes curl as you scream into the night, your hips rocking into his face as your body trembles with bliss and release and rapture. He pulls away from your cunt, his teeth biting down into his bottom lip as he rubs his fingers over your convulsing, jumping clit. He growls slowly, before inhaling sharply - he loves to watch you come. 

You hear a zipper, the ruffling of clothing and then - oh, and then -  you’re suddenly full again. Your cunt now full of his warm, hard cock as he threads his fingers with yours, pushing into you deep. Your body isn’t even finished with the first orgasm and he’s already trying to bring on another with long, hard ruts. Unforgiving drives of his hips into yours. 

You’re sobbing. Crying out to the heavens, the angels, the Gods, the devils, the demons above and below as he pushes, pushes, pushes. He leans in to kiss you, moaning into your mouth, chuckling as you cry. He knows. He just knows that he’s the only one that can break you like this. Turn you into nothing, just because he can. How heavenly. 

He kisses you again, his tongue sweeping across your lips before delving into your mouth. He sucks on your tongue as he continues to fuck you senseless. You can’t breathe, you can’t speak - you can barely open your eyes. There’s only sounds. The sweet sound of his cock shoving into your sex - that slick, wet squeak filling the room. The sound of your strangled sobs. 

He pulls you up into his lap as he sits back on his knees - chest to chest. He spreads his long fingers across your back, holding you to him as you bounce up and down. You let your head fall, your face tilted towards the ceiling as you whine. You feel his eyes on you all the while, just watching. Waiting. He feels you shudder again, your legs clamp around his sides and he knows. 

He fucks into you harder, but this time, you’re not the only one who’s on the brink. He leans forward as you stretch back, unable to keep yourself up straight. He kisses between your breasts as he rocks into you, his hot breath drawing goosebumps out on your skin. His teeth nip, his fingers dig - scratching into your flesh. 

“Come on baby,” he breathes, low and husky, “Come for me. Please?”

As if you needed him to ask. Within seconds of the words spilling from his lips, you completely shatter. Gripping onto his shoulders, you slam your chest back into his, screeching and howling as you're possessed again. You bounce hard and fast onto him, pulling on the ends of his hair as you come for the second time in as many minutes. He’s close behind, rutting into your tight, wet cunt until his own release blooms. He slams into you one last time and then holds you there, pushing his cock deep as he spills, wanting to fill you to the brim - not wanting you to waste a drop. 

“That’s all for you,” he pants into your ear, “All for my girl.”

“All for me,” you murmur as the jolts of your orgasm still flash through you. 

He lays you back onto the mattress and falls on top of you, your damp skin sticking to his damp skin. Fingertips brush along the inside of your arm. Hot lips press to the side of your face. Sweet words are whispered in your ear as he brushes away the emotion underneath your eyes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip as he nuzzles into you, his ear pressed to your chest, his fingers replicating your heartbeat against your skin. 

Your body is still hyper - jumping, shuddering, jerking with each little touch from him. You still cry, the tears hot as they roll off of your face. The waves of the ocean are loud, his breaths loud, your thoughts loud. You feel everything - feel fuzzy all over, like radio waves or tv static - overstimulated. His fingertips continue to trace your arm, he continues to whisper - trying to alleviate it.

The next thing you know, it’s morning. The sun is high, the breeze warm, the sound of distant voices float towards you from somewhere down the beach. 

A leg is pushed between yours. His hand grips your hip. His warm breath washes over the back of your neck. I love you falls from his lips as he fucks into you from behind - different from last night - not so needy, not so stressed. This is soft and slow. This is gentle. This is for you, not him. 

The dichotomy of it all. 

It’s why you’ll never leave.