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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 25: Animals

Summary: As your relationship begins to shift with your pack, you find yourself with an itch you just can't seem to scratch.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Kyle x Johnny

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, very rough sex, big feral energy, excessive biting, blood, choking (for like one sentence), squirting (I cannot be stopped), crying, manhandling, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, cum sharing, cock warming, reader gets folded like a chair several times, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, some feelings, just barely a hint of angst, and fluff. (Also just in case, Price is being a tease at the end)

A/N: Uh, yeah. I don't have any excuse for this one. The same warnings as last time apply here, don't read it in public, sit down, underwear, you get the point. Enjoy you depraved heathens

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A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. This one is different, the pitch lower, the back of your neck prickling. Your legs shake at the sound, pussy clenching around him as he nearly piledrives into you.

“Say it.” He growls, his voice rough with the edges of his alpha. It has you keening, pushing back against him. He uses the hand around your throat to lift you, bending your back almost painfully as he growls into your ear. “Fucking say it again.”

“Alpha!” You whine, choking around his hand as his fingers dig into your neck for a moment.

He releases you, letting you flop bonelessly on the bed as he continues to snap his hips against your ass so hard the bed slams against the wall. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your vision starting to go blurry from the pleasure.

Simon’s hands frame your head, gripping the sheets as he grunts and groans over you. You stare at his arm, at the muscle in his forearm as he holds himself up, straining from the exertion of fucking you so hard your vision is starting to go blurry. You shift your head to the side, moving closer to his arm before sinking your teeth into his wrist. He lets out a warning growl, but you sink your teeth in harder, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder in retaliation until something slides down your chest.

It’s not sweat.

You bite harder, undeterred by his own teeth in your shoulder. You’re not giving him this one. There’s a feral urge in you to fight, to sink your teeth in a shake like a dog until he gives up. Blood trails in rivulets down to his hand and onto the sheets as he gives in, releasing your shoulder. You purr in victory, releasing his wrist. He curses, yanking his arm away before he covers your mouth with his hand. His fingers dig into your cheeks, muffling your whines and moans as he licks at your shoulder, blood slowly dripping from the wound.

“Fucking little omega.” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy.

You can’t do anything but moan against his hand, his thrusts pushing your clit against the side of the bed. Your breaths are rapid through your nose, your mind buzzing from the near blinding pleasure. Pleasure tickles at the base of your spine, making your legs shake to the point of nearly giving out. You’re not sure how much longer you can last, not with the way he’s pounding into you.

He cums suddenly, his hips snapping against your ass before warmth shoots into your belly again. You moan against his hand, eyes rolling back as his orgasm fails to tire him. He picks the pace back up almost immediately, thrusting wildly into you. High pitched moans cut through the air as he releases you, pushing himself up to stand. Hands pull your hips back off the bed, fingers digging into the soft skin as your shaking legs offer no support for your body.

His thrusts become shallower, less sloppy and more focused. Your hands curl into his sheets, certain you’re going to rip the fabric as the overwhelming feeling begins to fill you once again.

“Alpha!” You shriek, his cock aimed for that spot inside of you again. The pressure is building, almost becoming too much. “No, no,” You whine, feeling like you might explode. You know what’s coming next, and you’re not sure you can handle another one. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your legs do give out as fluid squirts out of you, soaking Simon and forcing his cum right out of you. It drips onto the towel, your body spasming in his hold. You can’t do anything but lay there and whimper, your very veins burning from your orgasm and the overstimulation.

Simon shoves you back up the bed, pushing his cock back inside you. You clench around him, the feeling almost too much as he starts his brutal pace back up, his hips driving you into the side of the mattress. His hand tangles in your hair, pushing your face into the sheets as he growls, rutting into you like an animal. Your body feels hot, your skin burning and your mouth getting dry from the exertion. You feel almost like you’re in heat again, the needy pleasure starting to fog your brain.

If only he could knot you right now. That might ease the ache beginning to form in your pelvis.

“Alpha,” You gasp, your hands scrambling back to reach his. “Alpha, please!”

“Fuck,” He growls, releasing your hips to grab you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as he uses the leverage to pull you back against him.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as slick gushes out around him, dribbling down your thighs, mixing with your sweat. You’re close again, your sensitive pussy driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches, pushing back against him as your hands lift, gripping onto his fingers.

“Alpha, alpha please.” You whine, hands squeezing tightly around his fingers.

He leans down, pressing his face into the back of your neck, his breaths puffing against your heated skin. He drags his tongue up your spine, lapping at the sweat coating your body. He growls, tilting his head before sinking his teeth into the back of your neck.

You let out a high pitched shriek, your vision going black. You writhe under him, feet trying to gain some sort of traction on the floor but you can’t get your legs to work. You’re rendered nearly immobile as his teeth sink into the delicate skin, his hands slipping under you to grip the sheets.

He continues to fuck into you, growling around your neck. Tears are leaking out of your eyes, the sounds coming from your lips a mix of sobs, moans and pathetic whines. Another orgasm wracks through you, your body shuddering under him as he sinks his teeth in until you bleed, spilling into you.

He releases you after his cock stops twitching, letting your body go. You nearly slide off the edge of the bed but he grabs you, flipping you back over onto your back. The back of your neck is stinging as he maneuvers you up the mattress, pushing your thighs back up to your chest. His eyes are nearly black as he stares down at you, blood on his lips and dribbling down his chin. His arm is bleeding still where you bit him, smearing across his skin and yours.

He holds your thighs against your chest as he pushes back into your sensitive pussy, still hard and almost throbbing. You can do nothing but lay there, whimpering and whining as he takes you over and over until your vision goes dark.

Your body aches. It pulls you from sleep, the pain waking you from your precious slumber. You let out a groan, shifting against the hard surface under you. You can’t get your arms to move, your limbs shaking as you try to get your muscles to work. You’re beginning to panic, feeling almost paralyzed.

A hand trails down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You whimper, pressing your face into Simon’s chest.

“Easy.” His deep voice rumbles under your ear, rough and huskier than normal.

Your throat feels raw, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to speak but all that comes out is a whine as you become aware of the intense throbbing between your thighs.

“What do you need?” He asks, still stroking your back.

“Water.” You manage to croak out, peeling your eyes open.

Your vision is blurry, your waking brain quickly becoming aware of the pain in your body. Simon shifts under you, making you whine as the jostling just makes you aware of more pain.

Your skin feels like it's on fire, a tingling burn stinging the back of your neck. Your neck and shoulders are sore and aching, and there's a deep thrumming pain between your thighs. As memories of the night before begin to resurface, you know you're covered in bites and bruises, dried blood caked to your skin.

Simon shifts you again, another whine leaving your lips. He shushes you gently, pulling the blanket tighter around you as he maneuvers himself out from under you. You're laying on the floor, covered with the comforter off his bed. When you moved here, you're not sure. There’s a point where your mind goes blank, where the memories are cut off and nothing remains.

Simon quite literally fucked the life right out of you.

You’re suddenly aware of the chill in the room as you lose Simon’s warmth, another whimper leaving your lips. Simon gently maneuvers the blanket around you, tucking you into one side before rolling it around you until you’re immobile in a blanket burrito. You can’t do anything but watch as he digs through his dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

“Be right back.” He murmurs before he steps out of the room, leaving you alone.

You blink slowly, trembling slightly from the combination of the cold and your aching body. You can’t pinpoint which part of you hurts the most, your muscles feeling like you just completed a marathon without any training. You suppose you have in a way. Last night was certainly a marathon of sex, one which probably continued long after the gap in your memory started.

Simon returns, water bottle in hand. You stare up at him as he closes the door, moving to sit on the floor again. He maneuvers you in your blanket burrito so you’re sitting up, tugging you back against his chest. You wince at the pressure between your legs and pelvis in the position, trying to shift in your confines to ease the ache. Simon unscrews the cap on the water bottle, your eyes drawn to the scabbed bite mark on his right arm. You remember doing that, sinking your teeth in until he bled, the coppery tang still on your tongue. The feral need to win the battle of wills, the determination blinding you to the pain in your shoulder where he had sunk his own teeth into you.

One of many places.

Simon lifts the bottle to your lips, holding it steady as you eagerly gulp down the water. It eases the ache in your throat, the dryness making your tongue feel like it was coated in sand. It’s like finding an oasis after stumbling through the burning desert.

There’s a slight tremble to Simon’s hand as he holds the bottle for you, tilting it slowly as you guzzle down the contents. A sour edge borders his scent, something you pick up as awareness continues to return to you. Your brows furrow as you sit there, trying to make sense of the thoughts swirling through your mind as the sourness in his scent intensifies.

You finish off the water bottle, taking in a few deep breaths. “Simon?” You say quietly, your voice not quite as hoarse as it had been thanks to the water.

“I fucking knew it.” He breathes, his body tensing behind you.

“Simon.” You say, trying to wiggle out of the blanket burrito you've been confined in, looking like a fish flopping around.

You finally manage to flop yourself over his leg, rolling out of the blanket. You lay there for a moment, trying not to show any sign of the pain in your body from the exertion. You push yourself up, pushing past the pain as you lean on your arm. You're slightly out of breath from your efforts, taking a moment to breathe.

“Fucking look at you.” He breathes, eyes trailing the brutal picture you paint sitting there.

You raise your eyebrows, scanning his exposed skin. “Look at you.” You counter, bite marks and scratches littering his arms, and you know there's more under his shirt and mask.

You push past the confusing, contradictory thoughts, the tickling in your mind telling you to stay back, to let him work through what he has to work through and not risk making the sour scent coming off of him worse. You can’t hide the pained groan you let out as you push yourself onto shaking hands and knees, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the short distance to him.

You plant yourself next to him with a heavy sigh, leaning on one hip as you face him. You ignore the throbbing between your thighs, the discomfort in your body as you prop yourself up in front of him, planting one hand between his thick thighs still spread on the floor.

“Yeah, I may be hurting right now, but it's because you quite literally fucked the soul out of me.” You lean slightly so you're looking him in the eye. “I don't regret it, and I wouldn't change anything. Hell, I would have let you go another round this morning if you hadn't put me through however many rounds last night.” You can’t handle the discomfort of sitting anymore, flopping yourself back down onto the floor, resting your head on his leg as you try to find a comfortable position. “Shit, I'm gonna have to take up yoga if you keep trying to fold me into some of those positions.”

The ache in your muscles isn’t all from the lengthy activities last night. You distinctly remember having your knees pressed against your chest several times.

“Lucky you didn't make me pull a hamstring or something.” You continue, staring up into his dubious gaze. You roll onto your side, immediately regretting it as your sore hip presses into the floor, but you refuse to show your discomfort for his sake. “If you're really that concerned, then take me to see Dr. Keller. Plop me in a wheelchair and wheel me over there.”

You go quiet, staring up at him for a moment. He's barely moved since you flopped your way out of the blanket like a fish. You can't tell what he's thinking, only that the sourness is gone from his scent. The silence is tense despite the easing of his discomfort, hanging heavy over the both of you. You sink your teeth into your sore lip, raising your brows as you wait for some kind of response, some acknowledgement, some mutual sharing of the thoughts running through his head. It only feels courteous after he simultaneously rearranged your guts, made you cry, and fucked you like a real alpha.

“Are you going to say anything?” You finally break the silence, blinking up at him.

His shoulders lift as he inhales deeply, panic shooting through you for a moment as you wait for some kind of rejection or anger. “I miss when your thoughts were inside your head.”

You stare at him in surprise for a moment before biting your lip to try and hide your smile. “I thought you hated that about me.”

“I take it back.” He says, reaching forward to brush his fingers across your jaw.

A quiet purr rumbles in your chest as you lean into his touch, nuzzling against his hand. You stare up at him, holding his intense gaze fearlessly. Something stirs in the back of your mind as a low growl rumbles in his chest.

“Fucking hell.” He growls, moving his hand from your face to adjust his sweatpants, the musky scent of arousal thickening in the air.

“Well, you're on your own with that.” You say, pushing yourself up from where you're laying. “I am all fucked out.” You flop over onto the floor, facing away from him.

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Might have to call Johnny in. I'm sure he's all worked up from last night. He'd wrap those pretty lips around my cock in a heartbeat.”

Despite the deep throbbing, burning pain in your pelvis, you feel yourself becoming aroused at the mental picture of Johnny kneeling between Simon's legs, mouth wrapped around that thick cock. Will he still taste like you? Johnny would know.

“Fuck.” You breathe, trying to calm the dampness starting to slick your pussy again. You scramble for any distraction, anything to think of besides Simon folding Johnny in half on the bed and growling as he fucks his beta just as roughly as he did you last night. “Simon?” You breathe, glad your legs are too tired to press together for friction.

He hums, still palming himself over his sweatpants.

“How did we get on the floor?” You ask.

“Was between the ninth and tenth rounds.” He says. “When I made you ride me, all needy and whiny.” He shifts behind you, starting to crawl toward you. “Couldn't even lift yourself up. Touched your clit once and had you cumming immediately, sensitive little thing.”

You bite back a moan as his fingers slip between your thighs, dragging through your aching folds. “Okay, okay.” You reach back, trying to slap his hand away. “‘S too much.” You whine. “Gonna drag myself across the hall so I can take a hot bath.”

You lift yourself up onto your arms, your legs too tired to even push up onto your knees again. You pathetically attempt to drag your body towards his door, Simon letting out a quiet sigh. He hooks his arm under your knees, tugging you back closer to him.

He shifts up onto his knees, letting out a sigh. “Let me find your knickers and I'll take you.”

He helps you into your underwear and the shirt you wore yesterday before he scoops you up off the floor far too easily. It’s a short walk down the hallway to your room, your body still shivering a bit from the cold.

He sets you on the edge of your bed before going into the bathroom to turn on the water for the tub. You wonder if he’ll do it, if he’ll push past that barrier and allow the intimacy of the moment, or if what had transpired last night had been enough, had pushed that barrier to its extreme.

You watch him as he comes back out, standing in front of you. He no longer looks like the opposing figure you had once seen him as. He's still large, but he's lost the intensity and danger. Even now with his shoulders tensed and hands curled into fists, you're not intimidated or afraid. You can tell he's nervous, hesitant. This is a big move for him, and you're not sure he wants to make it yet.

“You can go get Kyle, or even John.” You say quietly, gently as you stare up at him. “I won't be upset. We've made a lot of jumps over the last few days. If you need to take a step back, I don't blame you.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Relief or maybe gratitude, perhaps both. You wouldn't blame him for not wanting to be so vulnerable, especially after the vulnerability he showed last night. It’s asking a lot of him, and you’re scared to push him too far, make him retreat into himself again after so much progress.

“I'll...go find someone else.” He says.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay.”

He turns away from you, heading back towards the door.

“Simon?” You call and he stops, turning back to face you. “Go easy on Johnny. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.”

He lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fucking hell.”

You're fighting the dampness in your underwear as you walk with John towards the med center. It's been almost three days since your first time with Simon and you've been fighting arousal almost every minute of every day. Despite the physical ache still lingering from the intense fucking you had done, you haven’t been able to stop the aching arousal from dripping into your underwear constantly.

This isn't your normal scheduled appointment with Dr. Keller. You wanted to see her to make sure nothing was wrong. You hadn't felt like this after your first time with any of the others. Sure you had gotten aroused every time you thought about it, but it hadn't been uncontrollable like this.

The cool air in the med center is a blessing as you head for Dr. Keller’s office, John following behind you. You shift on your feet as you wait for the door to open, the brush of your arm against John’s almost electric. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to stop the arousal from intensifying just in the presence of your alpha. He knows something is off, probably able to smell the intense arousal that has plagued you for the last three days. You haven’t done anything about it, trying to allow yourself to rest and recover after Simon fucked the sense out of you.

Dr. Keller opens the door after what feels like a lifetime, and you quickly inhale the calming beta scent wafting out of the room, hoping it will ease the ache between your thighs.

“Come on in.” She says, holding the door open for you.

You stand on your toes, kissing John’s cheek in parting before entering Dr. Keller’s office. You take your usual seat, lowering yourself gingerly into the cushions. It’s a relief compared to the brutal plastic of the benches in the mess.

Dr. Keller sits in her usual spot at the couch, eyeing the fading marks littering your skin. “This isn’t our usual appointment.” She starts, her brows furrowing a bit as she lifts her gaze to your eyes. “Everything alright?”

“I, uh,” You stumble over your words, not having even thought about how you’d bring this up to Dr. Keller. “There’s a situation that’s developed.” You say, leaning back in the chair to try and ease some of the ache between your legs. “I don’t know why it’s happening or why it’s started now, but uh,” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat. “Simon and I had our first time a couple days ago. Things got...heated.” You scratch at the healing teeth marks on the back of your neck. “Very heated. It was like we...”

“Lost control?” She suggests, seeming to almost know what you were going to say.

You nod. “Yeah. Things got a bit...rough before we even had sex and then...when we did, things got almost...violent.” The word tastes bad on your tongue, but you’re not sure how else to describe it. Rough wasn’t enough, but perhaps violent was a bit too much. “And ever since then, I’ve just been constantly horny and I don’t know what to do. It wasn’t like this with the others, not even John.”

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment. “It sounds to me like your instincts are out of control.” She says simply. “You’re both purebreds, which means you’re both more sensitive to your instincts, scents, emotions, even physical things like body language. You’re more sensitive to each other, too. In those moments of intense emotion, it’s not uncommon for things to get a bit out of hand, for instincts to take over, especially when it’s a new relationship.”

“That makes sense.” You say. “He always seems to just know things, sense things about me that the others don’t. Sometimes it’s like he knows what I’m thinking. Both times it happened there was just something so...animalistic about it.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Keller hums, nodding in agreement. “There’s always a risk when purebreds are together that things may slip out of control. Your omega peeked her head out because she sensed a virile alpha, and his alpha came out to meet her. No matter how much control one has over their instincts, moments like that can throw all the hard work and training out the window.”

“Is there a way to stop that?” You ask.

“It will start to even out on its own to a point, as you and Lieutenant Riley adjust to one another, but there is something that may help both of you. I was going to bring this up during our next appointment, but this might be a better time. Captain Price and I discussed it while Lieutenant Riley was away.” She sits back on the couch, crossing her legs. “I know you know that purebreds have stronger instincts, and are more sensitive and aware of them. While that can be helpful in certain situations, I’m sure you also know it can be a hindrance, especially in moments of high tension or highly emotional situations.”

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

“What you likely haven’t been told,” Dr. Keller continues. “Is that it’s possible to learn to balance those instincts, and even utilize them.”

You blink at her. It is news to you. No one has ever told you that was a possibility. You’ve only been taught that your heightened instincts made you more desirable, and how they can help you learn to serve your alpha and your pack.

“Lieutenant Riley likely learned how to balance and utilize his during his military training. Regardless of if he was taught directly or not, his training taught him how to stay calm in tense, stressful, highly emotional situations. It also taught him how to utilize his instincts for his job.”

“That’s why he can read me so easily.” You say, the pieces beginning to come together.

“Purebreds are more sensitive to things like scents. Your noses can detect subtle changes, even lingering scents, things non-purebreds can’t. That makes it easier to read emotions, and also predict potential threats.” Dr. Keller’s lips twitch in a smile. “That also means you’re more sensitive to things like arousal.”

Your cheeks flush as you think of all the times you’ve been turned on by Simon during training or one of the other members of your pack. He’s known the whole time. He could sense it long before the others could.

How did he keep control of himself for so long?

“How do I learn to do what he does?” You ask.

“I can help you learn to balance your instincts so you’re less vulnerable to them, but only another purebred skilled in instinctual control can help you learn to utilize them.” She says.

You let out a breath, sinking down lower in the chair. “No one’s ever told me that was a possibility.”

“They wouldn’t have.” She says. “There would have been no benefit for the institute to teach you how to do it. It would have made you too aware of your skills and abilities, the control you can have over others. They want subservient omegas that bow to their alpha. It’s hard to do that once you’re aware of what you could be.”

“Can...can we do that? Work on my instincts?” You ask.

Dr. Keller nods. “Of course. Captain Price has already voiced his approval when I spoke to him about it. I think it will be very beneficial for you to at least learn to balance your emotions.”

“How do we start?” You ask.

“The most important part of all of this is your breathing. I know I’ve said it before, but that’s crucial to keeping your head clear and aware. Your breathing starts to pick up, your instincts kick in.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“We can start with the easiest exercise, which is a trigger point exercise.” She says. “It utilizes common trigger points on your body that elicit instinctual responses when pressure is applied to them. There’s trigger points all over your body. On your legs, arms, sides, and of course, the neck.”

You nod again. “O-Okay.”

“We wouldn’t start with the neck, since that elicits the strongest response and would be too overwhelming at first. We’ll work up to that.” Dr. Keller says, standing up. “It’ll be easiest to do it sitting on the floor.”

You shift off the chair, easing yourself onto the floor, sitting cross legged. You can’t help but feel nervous, despite the fact you trust Dr. Keller. You’re branching into new territory, something you didn’t even know was a thing until a few minutes ago.

“Breathe.” She says, sitting cross legged in front of you. “The most important part of this is the breath. It’s going to feel intense, your body will react no matter how hard you try and stop it. Let it happen, let your body do what it’s meant to do and just be aware of those instincts starting to surface. Don’t think too hard on them, just let them be there and focus on your breathing. Okay?”

You let out a breath. “Yeah.”

“I’ll know if things start to be too much, and we’ll stop immediately.” She says. “Hold out your arms.”

You do as she says, her hands warm as she wraps her fingers around them, supporting them.

“Close your eyes.” She directs, her thumbs coming to rest right below the inner bend of your elbow on the inside of your forearms. “Deep breaths.”

You take a deep breath in and she presses down with her thumbs.

You can’t stop it as your body tenses, panic beginning to bubble up in you. It’s too much, the feelings wrong, the alarms in your brain starting to go off as your body detects some kind of threat. Your arms try to tug free of her grasp but she doesn't let go, your shoulders lifting to try and protect your neck while your hands can’t.

Your breathing has picked up, near hyperventilating as the instincts flood your mind. You don’t know if you should run or hide or lay there and play dead. Your hands have curled into fists, fingers shaking from the adrenaline pumping through you.

“Breathe.” Dr. Keller’s voice cuts through the alarms in your mind, reminding you of why you’re doing this in the first place.

You fight to take a deep breath in, your breath catching and hitching in your chest. It almost hurts as you let it out, your lungs still trying to push air through rapidly. You continue to fight through the thoughts and instincts, through the natural reaction to panic about a threat that’s not even there. You’re in Dr. Keller’s office, sitting on the floor with her, trying to learn to balance your instincts.

Slowly you begin to gain control over your breathing, easing the ache in your lungs as you take deep breaths in and let slow breaths out. The instincts begin to calm, the rational part of your brain beginning to return as you become aware of the thoughts and emotions swirling in your head.

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, releasing your arms.

You’re shaking just a bit as the instincts begin to ease away, the threat fading. You open your eyes, still breathing deeply as the swirling thoughts in your mind start to die down. Your shoulders have relaxed, the need to protect your neck fading away.

“Good job.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. “It will take a lot of practice to master, but now you know you can do it. It’s not foolproof, there will be times where the situation is too much, but this can help keep incidents to a minimum.”

“Thank you.” You say, looking at her, emotions starting to rise again in you. Not ones of fear or panic, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. “For everything you've done. When I first got here, I wasn't even a person. I was just a title, a status. But you and my pack have helped change that, have helped me realize I'm an actual person, not just an omega.”

“Good.” She says, smiling softly at you. “I'm glad you're starting to unlearn the things society has taught you, and I'm glad we've been able to help you in that journey.” She takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You are far more than your status, far more than what you can do for someone else. You are a wonderful human who has managed to keep such kindness despite everything you've been through.”

A smile tugs at your lips, tears burning behind your eyes. “You really think that?”

“I know it.” She says, squeezing your hand again before letting it go. “Come on, let's get you back to the barracks before lunch.”

Breathing. That's the most important part. Just focus on your breath.

If only it were that easy.

You've been up since 3 AM, a painful ache throbbing in your lower belly. Your thighs are slick, your breaths coming in quiet pants from the intensity of the need pulsing through you. It's only gotten worse as the minutes have slowly ticked by. Breathing through it hasn't helped any, and neither has shoving your hand into your pajama pants.

You huff out an exasperated breath, reaching for your phone. Your eyes scan the contacts, trying to decide who will be best to ask. You let out a breath, your finger hovering over the number of the only other person that might be up at this hour, who will be up soon regardless.

You type out the quick text, holding your breath as you click send.

I need you.

Your phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply.

Come here.

It was like he could almost sense it, waiting for you to reach out, to ask. You throw the blankets off you, leaving your phone on your nightstand and even forgoing slippers as you make for your door, blinking against the brightness in the hallway as you pad down the hall to his door.

You knock softly before pushing it open, stepping into the darkness. It takes you a moment to adjust after the bright fluorescents in the hallway, blinking the spots in your vision away before you can make out the soft light coming from a phone screen.

You make your way over to the bed, the body shifting to make room as you approach. You hear the deep inhale, the quiet groan as you drop your sleep pants before climbing in next to him.

“Christ, what's got you so worked up?” His voice rumbles, a hand trailing down your side.

“Dunno.” You say, leaning into his touch. “Woke up like this. Can't get it to stop.”

There's a quiet rustle of fabric before he's leaning down to kiss you, lips slightly chapped as they move against your own. The hand on your side drifts downward, hiking your thigh up before he slips lower, palming you over your panties.

“Fucking hell, soaked right through.” He groans against your lips, holding his hand still as you grind against his palm. “Needy little thing.”

“Please,” You whine, nipping at his lips. “Please.”

He curses, pushing the fabric to the side before pressing two fingers into you. They slide right in, aided by the copious slick and your own attempt to ease the ache.

You groan quietly against his lips, his mouth moving down your throat, sucking marks into your skin to match the fading ones. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him there as he slowly fucks you with his fingers. It’s not enough, your pussy clenching around his fingers in search of something else. Something more.

You grind down on his hand, the ache in your belly intensifying. “Need you,” You whimper, your thighs clenching around his hand. “Please...Please Simon.”

He groans against your throat before pulling his fingers from you, rolling over so you're on top of him. He lifts his hips, your hands gripping his sides for leverage so you don’t fall off as he pulls his sleep pants down until his cock is free, already hard and you haven't even touched him. You settle back on top of him as he lowers himself back onto the bed, your clothed slit settling over his cock.

You drag your hips back and forth a couple times, moaning as the heat of his cock pulses through the dampness of your panties. Sweat has begun to bead on your skin and you tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. You stare at him, or at least where you assume his face is. You can’t see much, the room nearly pitch black except for the small bit of light coming in through the window. It sends a shiver down your spine, your omega begging for some kind of light, something to ease the vulnerability the darkness threatens.

Hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. You’re brought back to reality, back into the moment. You’re sitting on top of Simon’s cock, hands pressed into his stomach. Despite the vulnerabile position, you’re hardly in danger of what the darkness might be hiding. Simon knows, he’d know even in this position. Alphas are always aware of their surroundings, always ready for a threat, especially in the presence of an omega. Nothing could ever hurt you with him this close.

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat, easing the fear away as you take a couple deep breaths in and out. Breathing. That’s the key.

You lift yourself up tugging your panties to the side as you grab his cock with the other hand. You drag his head through your dripping folds a couple of times before lining him up and sinking down onto his cock

The stretch has your legs shaking. Despite having taken him before, it's almost too much at this angle. The sensations have your mind going blank, forcing every last thought except for Simon and his cock out of your mind. You begin to rock your hips, sinking down on him with every press downward. Your hands brace against his stomach, feeling the flex of his muscles under you as he fights to control himself, as he fights to let you keep control as you sink down onto him fully, sitting nestled against his hips.

You both curse at the feeling, his grip on your thighs tightening as you give yourself a minute to breathe.

Just breathe. Focus on your breathing.

Simon rolls his hips up, your breath catching in your throat. Your nails dig into his stomach, all thought of control going out the window as you begin to move, bouncing yourself on his cock.

He guides your movements with his hands, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts. You're trying to be quiet, but you can't help the moans and whines being pulled from your lips. You don't want to wake the others, draw them from their precious sleep, something you had been trying to avoid.

Simon muffles a particularly loud moan by shoving two of his fingers in your mouth, the two that had been inside you. You can taste yourself on his skin, your tongue lapping at the two digits.

You're going to cum soon, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Despite the fact it's only been a couple of days, the pent up frustration of constantly being horny and not being able to do anything about it has you teetering over the edge from just a few rolls of your hips and the stretch of his cock.

His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the pulsing bud. It's too much, the sensations in your body and the relief of the ache inside you. You cum with a cry around his fingers, your body shuddering with pleasure. He plants his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you as he chases his own high.

He spills into you, groaning as he makes a mess of your pussy. He yanks you down against his chest, still hard inside you, his hips rolling as he continues to thrust into you.

You don't have to see his face to know you're nowhere near done. For once he's going to follow in Johnny's footsteps, trading his morning workout for a different one.

“Christ almighty, ye look like an animal got a hold of ye.” Johnny says, gripping your chin as he turns your head back and forth, his eyes scanning every mark on your skin, the old fading ones and the new ones from this morning.

“I think one did.” Kyle says, pulling the collar of your shirt down to check for more.

“Don’t worry, I bit him back.” You shrug.

They both pause, sharing a look before looking back to you.

“Did ye now?” Johnny says, releasing your chin.

“Yup. Made him bleed.” You say nonchalantly.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle says, releasing the collar of your shirt.

“Feisty little thing.” Johnny says, going to poke your nose but you turn, snapping at his finger instead.

Kyle chuckles as Johnny yanks his hand away before your teeth can close around his finger. “Don’t know what you expected, mate.” He says with a smirk.

You lean over, sinking your teeth into Johnny’s shoulder playfully. “You’re very biteable.”

“Am I?” He smirks, tugging you closer. “Only problem is,” He pulls your shirt collar to the side. “I bite back.”

His teeth sink into the skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting until you let out a quiet sound. He releases you, dragging his tongue across the new mark on your skin. Kyle presses up against your back, trapping you between the two of them.

“Easy.” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to your new bite mark. “Gonna make Simon think it's a competition.” His hand settles on your waist, slowly sliding higher and higher as he presses kisses across your shoulders.

Your scent intensifies in the air as heat begins to pool between your thighs. You squirm on the couch, seeking out relief from the ache between your legs. It’s been a steady pulsing since this morning despite the thorough fucking Simon had given you.

“Fucking hell.” Johnny groans, shoving you back into Kyle’s chest before undoing the button of your pants, ripping them off your legs and tossing them to the floor.

He pushes your legs up until they’re almost pressed against your chest before shouldering his way between them. You let out a quiet groan as your sore muscles are stretched, pushed into what’s becoming a very familiar position. Johnny lets your thighs drop onto his shoulders, relieving some of the ache as his hands grip your ass, holding your hips up.

Your lips part in a gasp as he presses his face against your underwear, inhaling deeply. A long, low groan falls from his lips as your thick scent goes straight to his head. He laps at your underwear, adding to the dampness already soaking into the fabric. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, holding you still as Johnny mouths at your pussy through your underwear.

A thrill runs through you at the thought of him eating you out on the rec room couch where anyone could walk in and see. It won’t take long for your scent to waft through the barracks, for John and Simon to realize what’s going on. All they’d have to do is walk down the hall and stand in the doorway to watch their betas make you cum. What would Simon think seeing Johnny’s head between your thighs for the first time, instead of just hearing about it? Would he lose control? Would he snap and tear Johnny away so he could fuck you again himself? Or would he hold Johnny’s head between your thighs until he makes you cum before he makes Johnny fuck you while he takes Johnny from behind?

“Shit.” You gasp, clinging to Kyle’s arms as warmth rushes through you, forcing slick to gush from your pussy.

Johnny moans lewdly, shoving your panties to the side before slurping at the slick dribbling from your hole. A shudder runs through you as you finally feel his mouth against your skin, your head tilting back against Kyle’s shoulder.

“Feel good?” Kyle asks, his breath fanning your ear.

“Uh huh.” You nod as Johnny’s tongue flicks through your folds. “Fuck, feels so good.”

Johnny groans against your pussy, his hips rutting against the couch. You wonder if he can taste Simon on you, the three loads he dumped into your pussy this morning. You’d showered, but you know scents linger in other areas longer than others.

You watch the flexing of Johnny’s ass as he grinds against the couch cushion, rocking his hips desperately for friction. You wouldn’t complain if Johnny bent you in half and fucked you right here. You’d take both of them happily if it means the aching in your core is eased just slightly.

Kyle’s hand slips between your legs, gripping Johnny by the mohawk. He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. “Make her cum with your mouth and I’ll suck you off.”

Johnny lets out a moan that would make most porn stars jealous before he eagerly slurps at your clit. The sound is wet and depraved, but you don’t care, your hips pressing against his mouth in search of more. He eats you like a man starved, slurping your slick like he’s parched and it’s the only thing that can ease his thirst. You’re a trembling mess in Kyle’s arms, hips grinding against Johnny’s face as you get closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Gonna cum on his tongue? Gonna give him what he wants?” Kyle groans in your ear, fingers plucking at your nipples through your shirt.

The sensations are almost too much, your thighs trembling around Johnny’s head. Kyle pinches your nipple as Johnny sucks hard at your clit, your orgasm hitting you like a runaway train. Your thighs clamp around Johnny’s head, smothering him against your pussy as you let out a high pitched whine. You’re not sure he can breathe, but you doubt he’d complain about dying from suffocation in this position.

Johnny continues to lap at your pussy as you shake in the aftershocks of your orgasm. It’s nearing overstimulation, a whine leaving your lips as you push at Johnny’s head. Kyle sinks his fingers into Johnny’s mohawk again, letting you flop back against the couch as he hauls Johnny to his feet.

Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as Kyle licks your slick from Johnny’s face, tasting you in his mouth. Your body is thrumming, pussy still fluttering as you watch them. Your lips part as Kyle sinks to his knees in front of Johnny, palming at the prominent bulge in his pants. You watch with bated breath as Kyle tugs Johnny’s pants down, Johnny’s hard, weeping cock springing free.

Kyle wraps his hand around the base, slowly jerking Johnny’s cock a couple of times. Johnny’s eyes are blown as he stares down at Kyle, lips parted as he pants softly. His flushed face is still shiny from your slick and Kyle’s tongue, looking like the symbol of lust and depravity. You all look like it, Kyle kneeling on the floor with Johnny’s cock in hand and you laying on the couch almost half naked, bearing witness to the intimate event about to transpire.

Kyle leans forward, dragging his tongue across Johnny’s tip, collecting the precum dripping from his engorged head. Your teeth sink into your lip as Kyle takes Johnny’s cock in his mouth, slowly sinking down his length. It’s warm in the rec room, and you're surprised there’s no steam on the windows from the heat radiating off the three of you.

Kyle pulls back until just the tip of Johnny’s cock is in his mouth before sinking down again, taking him fully into his mouth. Johnny is panting, one hand holding the back of Kyle’s head, the other resting on Kyle’s hand where he’s holding Johnny’s hips. Kyle bobs his head on Johnny’s cock, and you can see the strain in Johnny’s body, muscles tensed as he tries to keep control, tries to keep himself from fucking into Kyle’s mouth.

You shift on the couch, turning on your side to watch the debauched scene in front of you. Drool leaks out the side of Kyle’s mouth as he takes even more of Johnny’s cock in his mouth, his nose almost touching the trail of dark hair on Johnny’s stomach. Drool nearly seeps out of your own mouth as you watch them, so focused and in tune with each other. Johnny’s close, you can tell by the way his breathing has changed, how strong his scent is in the air.

“Fucking, just like tha’.” Johnny moans, his accent thickening as he loses control of himself. “Feels so fucking good.”

You stare at Kyle, your eyes dropping to the prominent bulge in his pants. An idea forms in your mind as you push yourself off the couch, slipping behind Kyle to kneel on the cool floor. The tile feels good against your heated skin, the pressure on your kneecaps forgotten as you reach around Kyle’s body, undoing his pants. You reach into his boxers, pulling his cock free. It’s hard and heavy in your hand, the thought of him being aroused just from watching you getting eaten out and sucking Johnny’s cock making your pussy pulse. Kyle lets out a groan as you begin to jerk his cock, the sound vibrating into Johnny, an echoing moan leaving Johnny’s lips.

A string of curses fills the air from Johnny, his fingers digging into the back of Kyle’s head. “Do tha’ again.”

You jerk Kyle’s cock in time with his own movements on Johnny’s cock, resting against his back as you watch them both. Kyle continues to moan around Johnny’s cock, his own twitching in your hand.

“Fuck...” Kyle groans, pulling off of Johnny’s cock for a second. He continues to pump Johnny’s length as he leans back against you, his hips thrusting into your hand.

“Feel good?” You murmur in his ear, pausing to squeeze your hand around the base of his cock. “Make Johnny cum with your mouth and I’ll let you cum.”

Kyle groans, his free hand releasing Johnny’s hip to squeeze your thigh before he takes Johnny into his mouth again.

“Gonnae cum.” Johnny moans, unable to stop his hips from rocking, fucking his cock into Kyle’s mouth.

You pump Kyle’s cock faster, his hips jerking as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He lets out a long moan around Johnny’s cock, Johnny letting out one of his own as his hips jerk almost violently. His head tilts back, mouth open as he cums in Kyle’s mouth, his fingers closing around Kyle’s wrists.

Kyle releases Johnny’s cock, shifting slightly so he can tilt his head back towards you and you know exactly what he wants. You lean over his shoulder, pressing your lips to his. Kyle passes some of Johnny’s cum to you on his tongue, the fluid salty and slightly bitter on your own tongue. You continue to kiss Kyle, drool and cum slipping down your chins as you jerk his cock faster, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Fucking christ.” Johnny curses, watching the two of you as he tucks his cock back into his pants.

Kyle spills on your hand and the floor, moaning into your mouth as he squeezes your thigh. He pulls away from your lips, lifting your hand to his mouth to lick his own cum off your skin.

Johnny lets out another string of curses you can’t even begin to try and translate as he watches you both. “Gonnae be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as you lean your head on Kyle’s shoulder, just catching a dark shadow moving away from the rec room door out of the corner of your eye.

Your bare feet pad silently against the cold tile as you make your way down the hallway. You shiver in the cool air of the barracks, the plain white walls offering no warmth against your bare skin. The door is cracked open but you knock anyway, not wanting to just barge in.

“Enter.” The gruff voice calls from the other side of the door.

You push the door open, slipping in before closing it behind you. You pad over to the desk, rubbing your eyes.

“Hi sweetheart.” John says, leaning back in his chair to stare up at you. “You’re up late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You say, moving around the desk to stand in front of him. “Missed you.”

He sits back as you crowd into his space, straddling the chair before sitting yourself comfortably on his lap. He grunts quietly as you flop down, wrapping your arms around his neck. He shifts you just slightly, his hands resting on your bare thighs.

You press your hips against him, resting your head against your arm as you try to get as close to him as you can. His fingers dig into your thighs for a moment before they slowly slip up under your baggy shirt. They rise higher and higher until they’re cupping your ass, squeezing your cheeks for a moment.

“You forgot your knickers.” He says, tilting his head closer to your ear.

You shrug, pressing your face into his neck. “Too uncomfortable.”

He hums, picking up the arousal quickly fogging the air in the small office. “Needy little thing, huh.” He groans as you push your hips down against him.

You let out a quiet sound, licking at his neck. “You’re the only one that hasn’t made me cum yet today.”

His hands leave your ass, pushing you back so he can stare at your face. He cups your cheeks, staring up into your eyes. “You’re exhausted.” He says, his thumbs brushing the puffy skin beneath your eyes.

You pout, pressing your hips closer to him. “But I need it.” You lean your head down on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m in heat.”

“Simon has that effect on people.” He says, adjusting your position on his lap again.

You grind down against him again, smearing your wetness on his pants. Your pussy feels raw and swollen from the events of the day, yet you can’t help the neediness, the desperation pulsing through you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alive and desperately seeking relief from the arousal pulsing through you.

“Please, alpha.” You whine, fingers curling into his shirt. “Need you.”

John sighs but he relents, lifting you up slightly so he can undo his pants. You lick your lips in anticipation as he frees his half hard cock, pumping it a couple times before pressing the head against your slit. You grind down against it, whimpering as it catches on your clit.

“Easy.” He scolds you, guiding his cock to your hole, easing you down onto it. It’s only half hard, but it slides in easily thanks to your arousal.

You let out a whine at the stretch, your legs shaking as John lowers you until you’re seated in his lap again, his cock buried fully inside of you. You clench around him, your body finally beginning to relax as you sit on your alpha’s cock.

“I’m busy.” He says, pushing his chair back up to his desk. “Make yourself cum.”

Your pussy clenches around him as he goes back to his work, your hips starting to rock back and forth. Your teeth sink into your lip at the sensation of his cock moving inside you, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He pays you no mind as he continues to work, his indifference stirring something inside you as you plant your feet onto the floor, pushing yourself up on his cock.

Despite his attempts at keeping focused on his work, he can’t hide the quiet groans leaving his lips as you bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his cock. It’s thrilling, his disinterest in what you’re doing, allowing you to use him, to take what you need. You had spent years expecting it to be the other way around, for your alpha to use you whenever he wanted, to be forced to spread your legs anywhere at any time when he got in the mood.

Sure, you do that now, but it’s because you want to. You want to fuck your pack like an animal, you want them to take you when they feel the need, you want them to ease the ache that’s settled into your body now that the connection between the five of you has begun to change, to develop.

This, though, this is different as you use John’s cock for your own pleasure, clinging to him as you desperately seek relief. He doesn't even have his hands on you, typing away at his computer instead, fully focused on his work. How he’s doing it, you’re not sure, though you suppose he has to be very good at staying focused even in the most distracting moments.

You clench around him, circling your hips on his lap as you try to get a reaction out of him. He offers you nothing but quiet grunts and groans, not even looking at you as you fuck yourself on his cock.

You lean forward, sinking your teeth into his earlobe. He finally reacts, letting out a grunt from the pain. His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing your side until you relent.

“Fucking minx.” He groans, keeping his arm locked around your back. “Gonna make yourself cum? Make a mess of my cock?”

You whine, legs straining as you continue to bounce on his length, his cock hard and pulsing inside of you. He’s close too, you can tell by the way his breathing has picked up, by the low growls rumbling in his chest.

You shift your hips again, moaning at the way his cock brushes against that spot inside you at this angle. You’re tempted to lift yourself up, to try and replicate the party trick Simon had shown you, but you’re too tired for that, too desperate to cum as soon as possible. You’re shaking, barely able to move as you push closer and closer to your orgasm, John’s arm around your back starting to move you, to give you support as you chase your high. You are exhausted, your body aching. Your pussy is sore from Simon this morning, your knees aching from kneeling on the rec room floor, your thighs burning from the exertion of riding both alphas in your pack in one day.

You fall against John’s chest as you cum, slick coating his cock as you finally reach your release. You tremble in his arms as he shifts his hips under you, bucking up into you a few more times before he cums himself, spilling into you. You moan as his warmth fills you, cock twitching inside your aching pussy.

You go to lift yourself off John’s lap but he forces you back down, pushing his cock and his release back inside you. You let out a whine at the feeling, your pussy fluttering around him.

“You wanted my cock so badly,” He growls in your ear, his arm still hooked around your back. “Then you can sit here on it until I’m done.”

You let out a quiet whine, legs squeezing around his hips as he releases you, returning to his work again. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as you focus on the feeling of his softening cock inside you. His cum is slowly sliding out around his cock, your hips twitching every so often as you try to ignore the feeling of him buried inside you.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you sit there, clinging to him as the ache between your legs finally starts to fade, eased away by your alpha’s cock buried inside your pussy.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o

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iwaasfairy · 3 months

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IWA HARSH PUSSY SLAPPPPSSS OR FINGERINGGGG

a/n. yea I made it dad iwa and also some oc bullshit fucking suE ME but it’s good i like this one yeAAAA I hope you enjoy BBYYYYY I know I liked writing it hahahHAHA

GET IT RIGHT

tw. incest, dad x daughter, single dad iwa, reader’s a brat, obv age gap, size stuff implied, pussy slapping, (hard-ish) dom iwa, brat taming, noncon voyeurism, it’s a family affair, solo masturbation, jealousy wc. 3k

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader, iwaizumi eiji and hitoshi x fem!reader

Its not his business that you’re a total nympho. Frankly, he could care less. Hitoshi’s eyes flick from under his baseball cap to the older sibling’s smug, almost accomplished smile when he runs a hand through his head of hair, before shaking some of the excess water out. The lighter brunet chuckles. “Our little sister’s laying on a towel with her tits out in the Oikawa’s backyard.”

“Dad’s over there, ain’t he?” Hitoshi responds, already back to scrolling mindlessly through Reddit to cure some of his boredom. Head of the Iwaizumi house said to ‘go outside for a bit’ so here he is, sweating his ass off in the lawn chair. What you’re up to really is none of his concern. Really. Eiji only smiles.

“And what? You think he’s gonna tell her off? Be for real for a second, Tosh.” There’s a look on Eiji’s face. Mixed in under the amusement and the bolstering, there’s something a bit tense. Impatient, and though he’d sooner die than admit it, Hitoshi recognises the glint that sits in the slight scrunch of his nose. He’s jealous. Yeah, you’re the type of little sister who gets away with having your tits out while they’re supposed to pretend not to see it. After sloppily patting himself dry with one of the towels, the oldest sibling slaps his phone out of his hands to grunt. “Get up.”

He responds before he thinks. “Fuck you, bitch.”

But it doesn’t bother his brother, who only tosses the towel back onto the table. “Stop intellectualising it and get up. You wanna get a look too, right? Dad’s over there right now to keep an eye on our little sister, and no one else is home. What do you think’s gonna happen.”

The sun’s so nice on your bare skin, glowing heat onto you and making you feel so sleepy and dazed. You’re all housesitting, which means access to the ridiculously nice pool of the Oikawa’s — and a secluded garden where you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want. The low voice is the only thing interrupting the peace. Daddy. “Babe. What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hat’s covering most of your view, but if you crack open one eye you can just about make out the way your dad crosses his arms over his wide chest, wife beater clinging a bit too tight to his muscular form. You push your lips out. “Sunbathing.”

“Put something on.” He sounds a bit tight, like he’s gotta clear his throat. Good.

“Why though?” You lift the hat up with one finger to look up further, see the slightly flushed visage of your father as he eyes you down. He’s a bit sweaty, yard work, and now has all his attention aimed at you. “I can’t get warm evenly all over if I do. Besides, no one’s home, and no one’s gonna look at me. The only people who can see into the yard is us, and Hitoshi nii’s not going to crawl out of his dungeon to spy on me, I promise you.”

It stays quiet for a few seconds as he takes in your words, before he sighs. Frowns just a bit, as he lets his eyes glide down your body just once. Enough to have his jaw clench, though. “I’m working here.” Then, after a bit more thought, he forces out the rest of the words. “You’re distracting.”

“Daddy~ please~” you start though, now pushing off the hat completely and wrapping your arm around yourself in mock-modesty. You have no intention of actually covering up. And looking at the way he’s breathing and already sweaty, he doesn’t actually want you to cover up either. “Nobody’s home. It’s fine. Please?” His olive green eyes flick to the way you’re pushing up your tits with your arms now, and those swimming trunks start feeling a bit tight on him if the way he shifts is anything to go by. The intense look would’ve scared you off before, but… well, it isn’t the first time you’ve gotten away with worse.

It also probably won’t be the last. “Once the sun is gone I’ll cover up to go back into the pool out front, promise.” You smack your lips, and give him those big puppy eyes that he seems to love so much. “Ei nii’s out there and I don’t want him to get an eyeful anyway.” You roll onto your side to send him your best smile. “Only trust you like that, daddy~” You’re audacious, a brat, but only because you know that gets him going. Wouldn’t do it this way if he really didn’t like it. When you go to lay back down with closed eyes, you can already hear him move in the grass.

A slight line works its way between your brows at that, at the idea that he’d walk away from you. But then a warm palm wraps around your arm to pin it beside your head on the towel, and you can feel the heat of him getting onto his heels beside you. Your breathing hitches, but you force yourself to keep your eyes closed. “Trust me to do what, exactly?” He rasps.

His other hand comes to your shoulder to push his thumb in, nice and hard, and works a moan out of you before you can think— working his way down in circles that pull goosebumps out of you. “What’s all this show really for? To make your big brothers jealous? Hm?” He gets close enough for the whispered voice to tickle your neck, hot thigh pressed against your waist before he places the other on your other side, straddling you. “You think that you can ‘daddy’ all your problems away? That if you look at me sweetly enough I’ll give?”

“I- didn’t-” your voice hitches when his mouth drags over your pulse, slight stubble and warm lips leaving kisses all down the length if it. The heat of the sun on your naked chest only makes the almost touch more irritable and itchy, and you have to fight the urge to just curl your body up against him already. “Didn’t want my big brothers to see. Wanted -you to.” When he noses at your collarbone you try to find your voice, and worm your wrist out of his grip to reach for his hair. “Wanted daddy to play with me again. I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Please.”

You can’t help but think back to last weekend, grinding down on his thigh with his fingers down your throat. Panties coated in stickiness and your entire body trembling with exhaustion. He laves soft mouthed kisses onto your throat enough to have you shaking now, too. But Hajime’s nothing if not consistent, as he noses the side of your breast and his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. “You know that I can’t, right?” He always says that.

You can’t help but laugh, humourlessly, and tug softly at the hair trapped between your fingers. “Then why are you?” And he is. As soon as he gets near enough, you arch your back automatically, still clenching your eyes closed. If you look now, the image will haunt you every day for the rest of summer. You’ll need daddy’s hands on you until you can’t go any more. Your tit is pushed against his cheeks because of your motion, and he groans a low, rumbling sound against your body. You can feel the heat of his bulge through his shorts. “Did you get jealous that Eiji might’ve seen me? Even a little?”

A second passes, before he finally grunts. “Fuck, yeah.” His mouth comes to your tits, tongue rubbing over hardened nipples too well, too knowingly. Knowing your daddy’s had other women before could make you green with envy, but he feels so good. His mouth, and hands feel so fucking good. Good enough to cry about it, trapped under his broad, heavy form as he squeezes and sucks your tits. “You’re a headache, you know that? Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Mhm.” You nod, panting, squirming under him. His hardening cock pushes against your thigh as you roll your hips, and he leaves impatient lovebites all over your tits. “Daddy.. d-daddy. Want you.” He’s so big and hot and heavy against you any time you get this close, it’s not your fault. You’re only a headache because he made you one. The clothed grinding against his covered, hard cock leaves your pussy awfully wet and sticky. Your breaths short. “Don’t you wanna- s-show your boys who your daughter belongs to, daddy?”

Your eyes shoot open when a sharp sting jerks your body, spreading through the flesh of your tit before he laves his tongue over the ridges where his teeth dug in. He clicks his tongue while grinding your other nipple between his fingers, making your bottom lip wobble. It feels so good, he always does. It’s not your fault. “Stop tempting me to make you regret your little stunt.” Your teary eyes meet his, dark and predatory before he pushes himself up, and yanks you closer by your thighs. “Legs up on my shoulders.”

“But-“

“Legs.” He says again, lower. You do, let him help your ass up to his mouth and reposition you so he’s level with your cunt. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he blows on your clit through the fabric, and only one hand keeps wrapped like a vice around your thigh to stabalize you. “I don’t wanna hear anything except how good it feels. Understood?”

You nod, before thinking better of it and speaking up. “Yes.” Fuck, it’s hot. He’s hot. You’re about to melt into a puddle with his face between your legs. He pushes your bikini bottoms aside with rough fingertips before pushing in. And you gasp, doing everything not to whine already. As his nose pushes against your sensitive clit, his lips find yours to leave a wet kiss on the opening, and he pushes his tongue against your sloppy lips without another warning. It’s already too much.

“Agh- d-daddy. You feel g- gh-ud.”

The big, hot tongue pushing you open, makes you grind against him while blood rushes both to your cunt and your head. His other hand flicks over your enterance a few times instead, before two thick fingertips push inside you, slow at first. He makes a show out of bottoming them out, and you can feel the way he smiles when it makes your pussy squelch. His tongue flicks over your clit hard and fast, before sucking. “Fuck, you’re so- good- g-good to me. Daddy!”

“Mhm.” The blood makes your ears ring. It makes you so dizzy it’s impossible to see much past daddy’s face and how good he looks, rubbing his tongue in rough motions over your pussy. He’s licking and licking and licking against your clenching muscles so good it’s almost unbelievable. The rough friction of his chin and stubble against your pussy, the way he nibbles just right at your clit, it’s all too much. It’s too much because it’s daddy— because he knows what he’s doing.

“D-daddy!”

You mewl as you curl your body against him and the push to your clit gets even better. Too good. You’re so sweaty his hand slips on your thigh, instead pulling you back by your heel and yanking you back up, right as your toes curl. His face is making a mess between your legs, and your mouth hangs open. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He- he’s already gonna make you cum. Sweat rolls down your back as your juices run down his chin and he buries himself as deep as he can, groaning your name into your pussy. “That’s my pretty girl, there you go.”

Your thighs squeeze around him and your eyes open through your tears, desperately searching for the eye contact you need to get there. But maybe because he knows you, he pulls back and drops you back down by your legs, spreading them by his thighs. “No, no- daddy pleas-uhh~ I wanna cum.”

“You’re coming on my cock.” He snaps back, before pushing you open more and slapping your pussy with a flat palm. “That alright with you, miss princess?” He says it like it’s an insult. For a moment, it does feel like it. Your mouth snaps shut against the cry you wanna let out, as his hand lands again before you can react. You jerk against the sting, clench your legs closed around his hand, but he pushes them back open to do it again. And again, and again, until slick is dripping down to your ass and your clit is tingling and swollen. You could burst out into a sobbing fit any second. “Can I do what I gotta do to get you there now?”

“Yes,” you sniffle back instantly, and open your eyes at him. Thick tears sit on your vision at it, you can’t help it. It’s all his fault you’re this way anyway. Your thighs wobble before your bottom lip does, and it’s this that makes him sigh.

“Aw, babe, shhhh— I’m sorry.” He takes only a moment to pull his shirt over his head, then gets back over you to wipe away the thick tracks. It doesn’t do much against the tears that keep coming, but it’s ok. It’s much better when you can place your hands to his bare chest and feel his heartbeat through your palms, reach up to kiss him. He tastes like you, and you suck on his tongue until he moans into the kiss. When he pulls back, that hot, big palm cups your cheek. “Was that mean?”

“I deserved it.” His dialated eyes search yours for a moment, before he kisses you back another few times. The tingling ache between your legs remains, but there’s a pit in your stomach that becomes more demanding again. “Please keep going?”

“Take me out.” Your hands instantly glide down his body at the order, hooking two fingers around the elastic band before pulling. Pulling down until you reveal the trail of pubic hair that leads down to his thick, flushed cock and down further. Down until the fabric can no longer hold him back from bobbing up against his stomach and he lets out a deep breath. You pull a little more to get a glimpse of his fat, heavy balls too, before daddy grunts and places both elbows by your head again. “Lead my cock inside you like a good girl, hm?”

“Uhuh.” Gladly. Your fingers reach for him, touching the dripping head first. Pre gets all over your fingertips, and you truly can’t stop yourself from putting two fingers inside your mouth with a whimper. Your hands return to squeeze around the head, need both to reach and stroke down a few times. Not that he needs it. He’s hard enough to feel his heartbeat through the skin, thick cock twitching as you shuffle around to line up. “‘s big.”

“It’s big to make you feel good.” He agrees, kisses your temple, and bucks into your palm. “Go on.” You line him up with a deep breath, before blinking your long lashes up at him with your lip between your teeth. The head kisses your hole as he hums, slides your slick around on the puffy mushroom head a few times before pushing in. “Ugh-always forget,” he grunts lowly, biceps bulging as he holds himself above you, “how fucking tight you are. My little baby.”

He starts rocking himself inside you bit by bit, and you can’t help but drag your nails along his flexing back to hang on. “Ah, ah, agh, daddy. You’re- so- big.” You throw your head back, and pant, tears still wobbling. You’re no longer sad though. Your pussy’s being forced open too big, too- fucking wide for you to clench around him properly- but it feels so good. He feels so fucking good, oh God. You want to fuck daddy all summer. You want him to never, ever stop.

Hitoshi’s so fucking hot it makes it hard to see straight. Cum’s gotten on his shirt, all over his hand, and he’s got boxers full of cum running down his fucking thigh. While his cock’s still hard and red in his fist as he forces his own hips not to buck. He can just barely hear your whines echo over the field to where they’re hiding— and you sound, predictably, just like how he imagined you do. You look good. Fuck, he’s sure you’d look just as good under him, but instead you’re clinging flushed faced, tits bouncing to your dad with his greying temples and letting yourself get used.

You’re pathetic, honestly. But he’s also not fucking blind. His cock twitches hard in his hand, and his other hand comes to cover the flared head as if that’ll keep a third load in. He’s trying to hold it so hard that he’s panting, balls pulling up to his body.

“Think she’ll let me eat the cum out of her when dad leaves?” Eiji’s pumping his cock without shame like there’s no tomorrow, getting drops of hot, clear liquid everywhere. He’s christened the plants with his cum earlier, too. Hitoshi just grimaces, before looking back at the way your body curls around the fat cock driving in and out of you, your cries about to make him bust again. “Huh?”

“I don’t fucking care, Ei nii.” He then furrows his brows so deep that you’d say he’ll get permanent wrinkles, not bothering to look over. “Why do you wanna eat dad’s cum out of her?”

“So I can fuck my own into her.”

Hitoshi’s too busy watching you and breathing through it to care about what he’s saying, so it takes a minute to filter through his hazy thoughts. “You’re a pig.”

Eiji just rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, quick shot. Have fun trying not to cum when I go next.”

#tw.incest #🍯honey.pot #tw.dark content #tw.hard dom #tw.daddy kink #💫ch.iwaizumi #💫oc.eiji #💫oc.hitoshi #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu dark content

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freedomfireflies · 5 months

Text

Counterpunch*

Summary: The one where Harry comes back from a boxing match to find you overstimulated on the bed.

(Based on this concept!)

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, pain kink, size kink, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink

By the time Harry returns home, you’ve already cum 5 times.

It’s been a long few hours. Three and a half to be exact. And in that time, you’ve been edged, teased, tortured, and spent. You’ve been left to sweat, writhe, cry, and drench the poor sheets beneath you.

The vibrator between your thighs is relentless. As cruel and sadistic as the man controlling it from somewhere across town. A pre-programmed punishment that only ends for a few minutes at a time, giving you just enough peace to catch your breath before preparing to do it again.

When you hear the apartment door open, you’re thrilled. Your aching muscles call to him as you strain against the silky ropes keeping you trapped to the bed. Your voice is raw from the excessive whimpering and whining but you cry out his name, nevertheless.

And he’s fucking thrilled.

His smirk is wide and condescending as he leans against the doorframe to watch you. You catch his newest marks through the tears in your eyes. Tonight doesn’t seem to be as bad. He’s got a subtle bruise beginning to form near his eye and a faint cut along his eyebrow.

But he doesn’t seem too concerned with his appearance. Rather yours. The way your skin is damp, the way your pussy is red and swollen, and the way your lips quiver as you plead his name and beg for mercy.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs in a soft, low call. And somehow, even just the sound of his voice helps calm you. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” you answer weakly, fingers curling into your palm. “Green, but…but please, Har…”

He chuckles to himself and glances toward the ropes around your wrists. He left them loose enough that if you had felt scared or wanted to stop, you could easily slip yourself free, turn the toy off, and call him. Something you were almost tempted to do at one point, but…the truth is, you loved the pain. You thrived off the idea of him coming to find the mess you’d made. That you’d been a good girl and done what he’d asked. That you took your punishment and you took it well.

He strides closer. Slow, like stalking prey. He looks now toward the vibrator between your thighs as it buzzes and hums in a rhythmic pattern, giving you just a taste of pleasure without ever actually letting you swallow.

He smiles brighter. “Oh, you poor thing. S’all red, isn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “Can’t…can’t take it anymore. Hurts. And s’empty.”

“Empty, huh?” He tuts to himself and takes a seat near your left leg. Close enough to send chills down your spine as you catch a whiff of his cologne. You nearly cum for the sixth time right then. “I bet.”

You whine harder and attempt to reach him. But he’s still too far and your chest aches. “Harry, please—”

“What, Cherry?” He brushes a piece of hair from your cheek and the gentle touch of his hand makes you want to cry. “Do you need some help?”

You nod again, fast and fervent. Desperate to feel his skin on yours. Overstimulated or not, he’s the only one who can fix you. Make it better, make you whole. Fill you to the brim the way only his cock can.

“Yeah? Well, let’s see.” His eyes trail down your naked chest, along your stomach, and back to the toy. Studying it almost curiously before he reaches for the tie keeping it snug to your thigh and flicks it free.

The vibrator is taken away, turned off, and discarded. Leaving your pussy to clench and unclench around absolutely nothing while he moves to the foot of the bed in order to see.

Slowly, his large hands push your legs further apart, allowing him just enough room to settle his body between. His face is inches from your throbbing cunt and the collection of arousal that’s drenched the sheets below and he seems thrilled. Exhaling a pleased breath that fans across your swollen clit and makes you jolt.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing your hips back down almost forcefully. “You’re okay, Cher. Just wanna check on you, hm? See how she’s doing.”

His thumb finds you first. Reaching out to swipe down your clit and through your folds as you arch from the mattress and gasp something pitifully close to his name.

“So sensitive,” he muses, almost to himself. “And so wet. Just can’t stop soaking yourself, can you, honey?”

You only gasp for air, desperate to squirm away from the painfully sweet sensation.

He flicks the digit across the delicate nerves and sighs to himself when he sees a large drop of your arousal drip down onto the sheet. “There you go,” he whispers. He shifts a bit to get closer before parting his lips with a gentle exhale.

And the feel of his breath on the swollen bud brings tears to your eyes. You’ve never felt this kind of pleasure before. The kind that hurts and feels euphoric all in the same wave. You want to push him away and drag him closer. It’s strange but addictive and you peer down at him through stained lashes pleadingly.

He does it again, taking hold of your thighs in order to lift them toward his cheeks, as though caging himself between your legs and suffocating himself with your pussy. Giving you no other choice than to let him have you.

“S’so pretty,” he says between torturous breaths. “God, could stare at you all day, baby. Your little hole looks so sweet like this.”

He brings his hands back to your folds and spreads you. Giving him the perfect view of the way your hole flutters and begs for his cock. His finger. His tongue. Anything.

You mewl to yourself and watch the way those pretty green eyes of his glaze over with lust. “Harry…”

“What?” He glances up and smiles. Feigning oblivion. “What’s the matter? You don’t mind me playing with her a bit, do you?”

You find the strength to shake your head.

“Good girl.” He pulls your pussy back again before dipping down to ghost his mouth along your clit. “Taste like fucking heaven. Always taste the best when you’re desperate.”

He makes a V with his fingers to keep you spread and lets his tongue do the rest of the work. He flicks and licks and savors the taste. The slurping sounds are sinful and pornographic, and your entire body begins to shake as you’re teased.

“Har…Harry,” you mewl, desperate to reach for his curls. “Harry, it hurts—”

“I know. But this is what you wanted,” he reminds you, glancing up while you drip from his chin. “Color?”

You swallow thickly. “Still…still green, I just…I need…need…”

“Need…more?” That arrogant smirk returns. “Oh, I know, sweet girl. Just aches without me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please—”

He hums, one large digit slowly pushing past your fluttering walls. “How’s this?”

A sigh catches in your throat. It’s good, but it’s not nearly enough. And after 5 orgasms already, you don’t want to be teased any longer. You want the main event.

And he knows this, which is why he pushes and pulls his finger from your cunt at a tortuously slow pace before adding a second.

“Harry,” you wail. “Harry, please—”

“Uh-huh. If you complain, I won’t give you anything at all,” he tuts. He licks your clit while adding a third finger, too. “I’ve already been nice enough to let you have all this fun without me. Do you really want me to stop?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.” He sucks you into his mouth before nipping at your clit with his teeth. Your back arches from the bed, tits covered in a glossy sheen of sweat, and his lashes flutter as he looks at you. “Fuck.”

You feel proud. Even when he’s trying to dominate you, he can’t help but be mesmerized by you. Desperate to adore you. Appreciate you. Let you know just how much control you really have over him.

Your fingers twitch, desperate to thread through his curls. And sure, you could slip yourself free now, but where’s the fun in that? You know eventually he’ll set you free and that moment will make everything else worth it. To hold him and be held by him.

Still, this consistently slow thrusting of his fingers inside your used and abused cunt doesn’t scratch that itch. So you whisper, “Please…Harry, please I need you. I can’t…I can’t, it hurts, Har…please.”

“I mean…I’d love to, but m’having so much fun like this,” he coos with an air of false sympathy. “Besides, I don’t think your little cunny can take me right now.”

Your expression falls as you look down your body at him. “What…? Why?”

“Think she’s too sensitive,” he says, running his thumb back over your pussy while you whine. “Look at her. All swollen and pitiful. Think I’d split you in half if I tried, baby.”

“No…no, I can take it—”

“Can you?” He meets your eye while reaching into his sweatpants to pull his cock free. And the sight of him—red tip leaking pre-cum that’s just begging to be tasted—makes your mouth water. He is big. And maybe he’s right. Maybe it would ruin you, but the truth is…you want him to. “I’d have to go slow, and it might hurt with how overstimulated you are.”

You pout again. “I can take it,” you blubber, tears returning to your eyes. “Just let me try. Please…please let me try.”

He seems genuinely touched now as he watches you cry, moving up your body to press his lips to your cheek. The first time you’ve felt truly close to him in hours.

You sigh happily at the feel of his mouth near yours, even if he’s not directly kissing you yet. In fact, the warmth from his body is enough to slow the racing in your chest, and you whisper his name as he leans back.

“My good girl,” he praises, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up. “Brave girl, too. Just wanna make me proud, don’t you? Even if hurts.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“I know, Cher.” He kisses your other cheek, right over the stain of tears. “You know I don’t actually want to cause you any pain, don’t you?”

Another nod.

“Good. Because I’d never forgive myself.” He plays with your bottom lip a bit before smiling. “And honestly, I hated leaving you here like this. Knowing I wouldn’t get to watch.”

You nuzzle into his palm and trail your eyes down the parts of his body you can see. “Did the fight go okay?”

“Mhm. I won.”

“Obviously.” You giggle. “Are you in any pain?”

He dips down to brush his nose against yours. “Not anymore.”

You frown. “Har…”

“Not bad pain, I promise.” He shuffles back down between your legs and lines his cock up. “Plus, you know I like it.”

“I know…but I worry,” you tell him. “Some of those bruises look bad, Har.”

“I know,” he echoes. “But I’ll take some painkillers and be fine. Until then, I can pretend they belong to you.”

You feel a deep sigh leave your lungs when he brushes the tip through your soaked folds. Even now, despite his condescension…he’s careful with you. He knows what you’ve been through, and he never wants to give you more than you can take.

“Want you to do something for me, okay?” he calls softly before getting into position. “If it starts to hurt…I want you to bite down on my lip. As hard as you can. Deal?”

Your eyes widen as you nod quickly, anxious to have his mouth on yours.

The moment he pushes in, he kisses you. Swallowing the heavy moan that melts from your throat.

You do as instructed, clamping down on his bottom lip when you feel that poignant stretch and he groans in response. And the two of you are nothing but a mess of noises and animistic fucking. His nails scratch down your skin, tongue dancing circles around yours.

Then, his hand comes to your throat. The same hand that causes so much harm to the men inside that boxing ring. The same hand that’s been shattered, broken, and torn. The same hand that wears a variety of scars and scratches, and the same hand that you love more than anything in the world.

It closes around your neck, gently and purposefully. Enough to excite you but not enough to scare you. Instead, you succumb to it. To the weight of his body on yours. To the peaceful trance you feel lulled into as your mind grows distant and all you really understand is the feel of his hips slapping against yours.

“Cherry,” he calls after you’ve gone quiet. “Baby, are you with me?”

You nod lazily, lashes fluttering. “Yes…feels good.”

“Yeah? S’it making your little ache go away?”

“Uh-huh…feels good.”

He smirks. “Good. S’it getting hard to talk to me?”

“Mmm…”

He chuckles to himself before kissing you again. “Honey, I think you might be going into your subspace.”

“What?”

“S’okay, don’t worry,” he assures you gently. “Not a bad thing. Just means I’ve been playing with you so long that you’re starting to feel a bit…spacey. Needy, in a sense.”

“Oh.” Your brows furrow. “But I’m always needy for you. Does that mean I’m always in it?”

He shakes his head. “This is a special kind of needy. And it means I need to be extra careful with you.”

“Okay, Daddy.” You stop, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ve never called you that before.”

“No, you haven’t,” he agrees. “Do you want to call me that?”

You think. “I don’t know. Do you like when I do?”

He rolls his lips into his mouth before nodding once. “Honestly? I kind of do. But that name can mean different things for different people. And I don’t want you to say it if it makes you uncomfortable. I like to hear you say my name, too.”

Another pause. “I like it,” you decide. “Feels…dirty. But good.”

“Just like you.”

You giggle. “Then you can be Daddy?”

“I can be Daddy.” He squeezes your tit in his palm. “Fuck, I never thought I’d like that so much. But I really love the way you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He dips down to take your nipple in his mouth, giving it quite a bit of attention before moving to the other one. “Just reminds me how fucking sexy you are. Cause you are. You know that, right?”

You feel your skin warm and you try to hide in the crook of his arm. However, he quickly snatches hold of your jaw to force your eyes on his.

“Baby, you’re beautiful,” he tells you earnestly. “You’re so fucking beautiful and I still don’t know why you waste your time with me. But I’m very grateful. And I love you. A lot.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” you whisper, pushing your lips together as though begging for a kiss.

He obliges. “Think I should let you cum now?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, he fucks you. Hard and deep into the mattress with a tenderness you don’t imagine you’d ever find anywhere else. Because even when he spanks your leg and squeezes your throat and sucks on your tongue while demanding you cum undone for him…he loves you. You can feel the way he loves you through every brush of his body against yours. Every thrust of his cock into your rather abused pussy. Every promise of his adoration.

And it’s everything. You bite so hard on his lip, you taste blood. And he loves it. He curses to himself and begs you to do it again. So, you do.

He plays with your clit, pinching it tight between his fingers that are slightly stained with blood from tonight’s fight. He rubs and he presses and he uses you like some sort of toy. And maybe you are. Maybe you’re his to use and abuse any time, day or night.

And maybe you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, know you’re close. Huh, baby?” he hisses in your ear. He moves his hand to your chest and gropes it in his large palm. “You trying to hold back for me?”

You nod. “Want…want to feel you first.”

He laughs before his features twist with pleasure. “Well, that’s not our rule, is it? And I know you want to, so…let Daddy feel you, okay? S’gonna feel so good…gonna soak my cock and clean it up. Make me proud.”

And you do wanna make him proud. Wanna do anything to make him feel good. Wanna make him throw his head back as he fists your hair and fucks himself down your throat. Stomach clenching…thighs flexing…back muscles rippling.

The image is lewd and beautiful and everything you’ve come to adore about your stranger from the diner. And just the promise of getting to be witness to his pleasure tips you over.

And you cum.

But you don’t just cum. You squirt. All over his cock, and his bedding, and his thighs, and your thighs, and you make a noise that sounds so depraved, you don’t even recognize yourself.

And through this orgasmic fog, you hear the way he moans your name and gives you two sharp thrusts before following suit. Along with soft whispers of, “Holy fucking shit, Cherry. My god…y’just squirted, didn’t you? Fuck me…fucking hell, baby, m’so proud of you. Did so good…so good, honey. Feel amazing…that was the best thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so goddamn hot.”

You feel proud, truthfully. Exhausted…but pleased. Because he’s so happy right now, a dopey little smile on his face as he drops his face into your neck in order to catch his breath.

“Was that…okay?” you ask softly, desperate to run your hands over his body the way you always do after he cums.

“Baby,” he nearly sighs, “that was so much more than okay. That was perfect. Why, are you okay? You feel all right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper. “That was…fun. Don’t think I’ve done that before.”

“Don’t think you have, either.” He lifts up to run his thumb over your cheek and study you. “Lot of firsts tonight, hm?”

“Mm.” You nudge yourself back into his hand and he laughs. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“…can you untie me now? So I can touch you?”

“Fuck—shit, yes. Sorry, baby.” He quickly reaches up to undo the knots and gently guide your hands out. Once your arms are back beside you, he offers a rather guilty look. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head and run your fingers down his back. “No…this is much better.”

“Good.” He gives you a quick peck. “I think you deserve a bath, hm?”

“Ooo, yes, please!” You pause. “Will you stay with me?”

“Cherry,” he nearly tuts. “Of course I will. Where do you think I’m gonna go, hm? I’m yours.”

Your eyes brighten. “Mine?”

He kisses you again and it makes your heart soar.

“Yours.”

Ew why did I miss them 😭 THANK YOU FOR READING, ILY SO MUCH AND HOPE YOU'RE ALL HAVING AN AMAZING WEEK AND WEEKEND!!! 💞

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ham1lton · 5 months

Text

WET DREAMZ.

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader. lewis hamilton x reader. jenson button x reader. nico rosberg x reader. fernando alonso x reader.

summary: when you move next door to a hot single dad, you take it upon yourself to seduce him. too bad for you that he uncovers your plan. you’re not exactly subtle.

warnings: sexual content. like most of this is straight up smut. mdni. explicit mentions of f!reader’s body parts. charles cameo in nico’s! implied cheating in fernando’s.

author’s note: i woke up in a fugue and wrote this as i ignored all of my adult responsibilities. show it some love <3 also no beta. we die like men.

— taglist | tip jar | feedback and requests | masterlist | ♡

SEBASTIAN VETTEL ✿

when your company allowed you to work remotely, you moved into a smaller village on the outskirts of germany. your family and friends weren’t too happy with your decision to move but with the current economic state of your country at the moment, it was great for your bank account.

your house was a modest affair, with three bedrooms but a gorgeous kitchen that gave you direct visual access into your neighbour’s backyard. the same neighbour who knocked on your door when you first moved in, with a jar of honey and some eggs as a housewarming gift. he was covered with a light sheen of sweat that would have seemed disgusting on anyone else. he introduced himself in german and switched to lightly accented english when he saw your confusion.

he’d sometimes pass you when he was walking his dog, or cycling to the farmer’s market. he’d make his kids wave hello as he’d pick them up and drop them off at their mother’s. he’d take your cakes when you’d exhausted your baking hobbies and would burst if you’d have another slice. he’d grin and smile bashfully when you told him you’d made one just the way he’d liked it.

as you watch him, he turns around and waves at you. a big grin splitting his face as you wave back. you’re so fucked. you spent an hour on facetime last night with your best friends as you went through the pros and cons of fucking your hot neighbour.

the cons outweighed the pros mostly, if it went badly you could lose access to the free gifts he’d bring by occasionally or his help when he would have a look at your car when it started spluttering when you needed to buy groceries. it would be weird too. aren’t adults supposed to be on good terms with their neighbours?

it didn’t stop you from you asking him if you could wait out the storm in his house instead of yours as all the lights had gone out and when he kissed you, you were shocked. you hadn’t needed to come up with a plan to seduce him into wanting you, because he already did.

he had you spread over his lap, his ring finger and his middle finger already in your centre. the sounds of your arousal filling the room as you fucked yourself against his digits. he smiled into the crook of your neck before kissing it.

“i knew you were this desperate for it,” he hums, his german accent thicker as he pressed his thumb lightly against your clit. he’s teasing you, and normally you’d be okay with it. playing this mutual game of cat and mouse but not when you’re this desperate to get off. “it’s okay. because i was desperate for it too.”

your eyes roll back as you reach your peak.

LEWIS HAMILTON ᯽

after your promotion, you decide to treat yourself to a summer home in monaco. it’s a flat in an expensive complex, with a pool, a gym and even a spa. you’d spend many days relaxing and enjoying the amenities or shopping with the bonus money that your boss had bestowed upon you for sealing a contract with one of the biggest businesses in your country. this was your time to relax.

yet, you couldn’t relax. as you finished your daily workout - yes you now had the time - you saw the hottest man in your entire life walk past you in a loose gym set. embarrassingly, you were filling up your water bottle which overflowed and covered you with the excess. thank god he didn’t see.

you hadn’t been much of a femme fatale, you were more of a business woman in your head. your sister told you that there wasn’t much difference between the two, just that the femme fatale chose a different line of business. it was that comment that encouraged you to start your plan of seduction.

it wasn’t working, even when you wore your best gym outfit, the one that made your ass look incredible, or when you attempted to bump into him at the complex’s coffee shop in the cute two piece that exposed your best assets. it seemed like he disappeared.

until he knocked at your door at the middle of the day, you opened it to see him dressed in a suit. for a selfish second, your thoughts drifted to him wearing this for you.

“do you mind watching my dog? roscoe is in a mood today and my usual dogsitter is busy. i have a meeting that is impossible for me to get out of. you’ll be doing me a big favour.” oh. he was british.

you smile at him, as graciously as you can. thanking god that you had just come back from brunch with the girls, so your hair and makeup were still done. you told him all about how much you love dogs and you wouldn’t mind at all watching his fur baby! you were a lovely neighbour after all.

he repaid the favour later anyways, on his knees and in between your legs. he pulls down your underwear, you had shaved in anxious preparation for this moment, your arousal leaving a stain against the fabric. he pressed his thumb against your folds before licking a stripe between them. his tongue flicking against you, as you pressed down harder on his face.

your moans were loud and unapologetic. you had a gorgeous man between your thighs, eating you out like this was his calling. he grinned at you, his face drenched in your juices. you groaned and put your hands on his braids.

now this was a holiday.

JENSON BUTTON ☆

moving to the big city was supposed to be a shock, but you took to it gracefully like a duck to water. london wasn’t the nicest to everyone but it took a liking to you. you bought a house with your best friend in a family neighbourhood with low crime rates and a high chance of getting more money when you’d both inevitably sell it in the future.

it was walkable which you loved. you could walk less then ten minutes to go shopping. you had come back with a few shopping bags when you accidentally bumped into your neighbour who was coming back from picking up his daughters. he laughs at the action as he apologises and gives a hand out for you to shake.

“i’m jenson. sorry about that, these two usually have me run off my feet!” he points at his two daughters who have already ran insider the house. “it’s like they’re my parents.”

after shaking your hand, he takes his cap off and runs a hand through his slightly greying hair. he’s wearing a pair of shorts with a loose t-shirt. it is almost summertime but the weather in london had a mind of its own. sunny one day, rainy the next and freezing for both. but jenson didn’t seem to mind the cold.

you introduce yourself and he listens intently until you realise that you have to go. there is frozen food in the bags and jenson’s daughters are calling for their post-school snack. but after that meeting, you always time your post shopping trip for when jenson comes back with the girls. your roommate/best friend doesn’t protest when you insist on the shopping being your chore but she does give you a sideways glance when she sees you chatting with jenson again on the step.

one night, you’ve come back from a date. it went awfully as per usual, although london seemed to love you and want you, the men didn’t seem to. you’re home late, when you rummage in your purse and swear loudly. you brought the wrong purse! you could call your roommate but she sleeps like the dead and probably wouldn’t answer. you’re thinking of breaking through the window when a voice calls at you.

“y/n?” jenson grins at you. “are you alright?”

after a moment, and a few minutes of arguing that you’re fine to sleep in the bushes, you’re inside jenson’s home. dressed in a pair of his old clothes. he hands you a cup of tea and puts down a packet of biscuits next to it.

“so, are you going to tell me why i caught you dressed to the nines and attempting to break through a window?” he’s trying to sound stern but he’s smiling as he says it.

“bad date,” you start and smile ruefully, taking a sip of tea. “forgot my keys and well, at least you caught me before i did any damage.”

he laughs. you laugh too but not before realising that there are probably kids sleeping in the house. you bring this up to jenson who waves off your concern.

“the girls are at their mum’s. it’s just us. don’t worry. you can be as loud as you’d like.”

you end up being very loud as you lay on his very comfortable bed. he’s tapping himself again the hood of your clit as you squirm breathless from the earlier orgasm he gave you. he smiles at you, leaning up to kiss you as he slides in, swallowing your gasps as he kisses you firmer.

“you know how long i’ve dreamt of having you like this?” he asks. you shake your head, moaning again as he fucks you harder. “since the first day you bumped into me, in that little fucking skirt. dreamt of bending you over and having you like this. anyway you’d let me. would you?”

you nod, voice locked in your throat as he mouths at your tits. he smiles at your willingness.

“good. we have the entire weekend to ourselves. let’s see how many times i can get you to cum. hmm?” you squeeze yourself around him as you have your first orgasm. your cunt spasming as he gently pulls out. he lets you rest against him for a moment, taking a deep breath as he runs a hand down your back.

“now that’s number one. keep count for me darling, okay?”

NICO ROSBERG 𑁍

you weren’t a yacht person. when your university friend had begged you to come home with her for the holidays, you hadn’t expected the family party to be held on a yacht. this was out of your tax bracket.

it seemed like everyone in monaco was right. the casual displays of wealth and decadence made you sick at times. thinking about how the money that went to buying that birkin bag could have made a change in someone’s life. then you think about how you’re wearing a custom gown on a friend’s yacht and realise that you’re now part of the problem.

a bonus about being in monaco, was that the men were gorgeous. your friend’s older brother charles was handsome with dimples and a gorgeous accent. if he hadn’t been in a relationship with a supermodel, you would have been all over that. thankfully, there was more eye candy in the city. your friend’s father had a business partner that was in their house more often then not.

he was blond, blunt and pretty in all the ways an older man could be. when he looked at you, you felt like the world could burn at your feet. he had also been on the yacht at the same time as you. drinking champagne, mingling with family and investors as you ate canapés and watched the sky.

“is it boring you?” he asks, as you turn around. he was dressed in a loose linen shirt, light coloured trousers with his shirt open just enough to see the smooth skin underneath. “can’t believe she brought you to a work event.”

“it’s fine. there are worse places to be.” you respond. you take a sip of champagne and you both ignore the fact he watches the sip go down. he takes note of the way that you’re still looking in the direction of charles and his girlfriend, the two still wrapped around each other.

“you’ve fallen for the charles charm?” he says, smiling as he sits across from you. he puts his ankles up on the table like he owns it, which he probably does. you can tell a lot from a person’s body language, and his is telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants. “it’s a shame. another pretty girl lost in his eyes. want another drink?”

“pretty girl?”

he nods, blue eyes darkening as he looks at you over the rim of his drink.

“would you want me to show you how pretty i think you are?”

so that’s how you find yourself bent over the sink in the bathroom at a yacht party, your pretty dress bunched up at the waist as he presses his fingers inside you. scissoring them to stretch you wider.

“is this what you imagined he’d do to you?” he asks, voice curious. “that he’d go down on you in one of the bedrooms? he’d let you go down on him? that he’d split you open with his cock as we all walked around upstairs?”

you sob as he talks you through it, mascara running down your cheeks. how are you going to explain to your best friend that you fucked her dear precious uncle nico while talking about her brother. he grinds his palm against your clit as he stands up and gags your mouth with his fingers.

“can’t be too loud honey, don’t want them to hear you.”

FERNANDO ALONSO ꩜

spain was a big adventure for you and your boyfriend. the two of you made the decision to move for a few months to his grandfather’s home to help redesign the place. it was slightly run down but nothing that you couldn’t fix. the goal was to rebuild it in order to sell it off.

however, you hadn’t foreseen that this would effectively destroy what relationship you had with your boyfriend. he insisted on not signing the place under your name despite you also funnelling funds into the rebuilding of the house. after another argument, you decide to take a break. wearing a bikini, and armed with nothing besides water, sunscreen and a good book, you make your way into the backyard. sunning yourself to at least gain something from all the money you’ve put in, even if its just a tan and a relaxing afternoon.

“you’re the new neighbour?” a voice calls out, as he leans against the fence that separates your property. you knew the next door neighbour had kids, you could hear them playing occasionally in the summer sun as you painted. you didn’t know they had a hot dad. that’s new information. he smiles at you. “it’s been a while since there has been a young person. the old man who lived here has been here since before i was even born. you’re his kid?”

“no,” you laugh. “he’s my boyfriend’s grandfather. i’m just here as a cash cow apparently.”

your voice turns a little bitter but why wouldn’t you be? you have put in the same amount of time and effort as he has onto this place and now you’re not getting anything back. court is an option but it’ll drain even more of your bank account.

“why is that?” he asks, head tilted as he looks at you.

you end up spilling everything to him. about the house, the money, the contract that has your name redacted. in return, he tells you that his name is fernando and the kids you always hear playing in his back garden aren’t his but rather his nieces and nephews. it’s nice listening to him speak, with the heavy spanish lilt to his accent. he is the first person in a while who has just listened to your grievances so when he asks you inside for a drink, you don’t hesitate. grabbing your wraparound skirt, you follow him inside.

less then ten minutes later, you’re on his lap, as he presses his mouth against your tits. enveloping one nipple in his mouth while his fingers move to play with your other one. you grind down harder against him, feeling your clit brush against the hard muscle of his thigh. your bottoms are soaked with your arousal as you lean closer and bite his shoulder to stay quiet. he leans away from you for a moment, as your eyes widen worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“don’t be quiet hermosa, let him hear it,” he grins up at you then leans in for a kiss. “isn’t that most of the fun?”

author’s note: sorry y’all idk what came over me.

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kylestfs · 22 days

Text

The Elevator Encounters

Oliver sighed as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor to his small appartment. It was late, and he was exhausted after the long work day he just had. As the elevator slowly made it's way up, he leaned against the wall and looked at his important work e-mails.

The elevator dinged at the first floor, he looked up.

The doors slid open, and in walked two figures, ones that Oliver specifically didn't want to share the elevator ride with - Young jocks. They were obviously going back from the gym, based on their clothes and the sweat gleaming off their muscular bodies, making the air filled with an overpowering scent of sweat, musk, and overall unpleasant raw masculinity. They grinned at him, but there was something off about their smiles, apart from the fact that they had yellowish teeth.

“Hey man, looking a little scrawny there,” one of them said with a chuckle, stepping closer.

Before Oliver could think about responding, the jock who made the highschool bully-like comment placed his hand on his shoulder, sending a shock through his body. His mind paused as his muscles tensed. He tried to speak, but his thoughts were suddenly slow, his words stumbling as the jock's voice seemed to echo in his head, while the funk coming from them was hypnotizing him more and more.

“You need to bulk up, bro,” the other one added, his deep voice reverberating through the small space.

As the jocks stared into his eyes, he felt his body waking up as his muscles weirdly tightened. His arms felt bigger, but not excessively huge as they swelled beneath his shirt and his biceps thickened. Oliver tried to fight it, to escape, but all he could do was watch as his veins pushed to the surface. His shoulders broadened, and his chest started to push outward, straining against the fabric of his shirt. His muscles grew in a lean/jock way, but not in a bodybuilder way.

“Yeah, that’s it… bigger, hotter,” the first jock whispered in his ear, his eyes locked onto the reflection in the mirror, watching his body slowly grow and change.

He couldn’t think— his mind was so slow and foggy, and all he could hear was the jocks’ voices, urging him to grow, to get bigger, to become more like them. His thoughts felt slower, dumber, but he didn’t care, he was becoming too stupid to care.

The elevator dinged again.

The doors opened to reveal another jock, less muscular than the last two but more defined and "twunk" like, He squeezed into the elevator with a smirk, his eyes immediately locking onto Oliver.

“Looks like you could use some help. You wanna be a fuckboy, right?” the new jock asked, his voice a low growl.

He nodded, unable to resist. He never signed up for this, or wanted it at all, but his body was already halfway through the transformation, and there was more to come.

“Good… real good. Let’s make you the fuckboy you were meant to be,” the jock said as his hand slid down to his neck.

The moment he touched his throat, his voice deepened, becoming more teenager ish but more commanding. He felt a surge of power wash over him, his thoughts slowing even further, reduced to slow, dumb and primal instincts. The scent of the jocks—raw, sweaty, alpha— kept filling his nose, clouding his mind even more.

The elevator stopped again.

Another jock, covered in a sheen of sweat, stepped in - his body radiating heat and power. He leaned against the elevator wall, smirking as he looked him up and down.

“Smell that, bro? That’s what a real man smells like,” he said, flexing his defined but lean biceps. “Let’s see if you can smell good like us.”

Oliver felt a weird sensation as his skin, already slick with sweat from his previous interactions, began to emit a stronger, smellier funk. But unlike the overwhelming, vomit-worthy stench he feared, it was more subtle—masculine and intense, and thankfully not unbearable. It lingered in the air, radiating from his body, especially from his pits, feet, and his butt. He noticed a hint of funk rising from his feet, which now felt way larger and heavier in his shoes. His armpits felt sticky with sweat, the hair becoming bushier, and his body gave off a natural stink that fit the dumb fuckboy he was turning into.

He could feel the sweat from his entire body drooling in his pits and lower back, as the ripe odor made itself known more and more. Occasionally, a deep rumble in his gut hinted at something else—an urge to release a primal, manly dominating stink from within. He felt the pressure but didn’t care, he released it, and felt the ripe air escaping his butt as his fart filled the elevator, making the other jocks proud of who Oliver became.

The jocks had finished their jobs and left the elevator, only 2 floors were left.

The elevator dinged once again

The doors opened to reveal a new group entering. This time, it wasn’t jocks. Three twinks stepped inside, their eyes fixing onto Oliver. They were all cute, 18 to 20 year olds and their slim physiques were as perfect as you'd imagine. As they entered, the air shifted. Their presence and vibe was different—calmer, cooler, but with a predatory edge of their own.

One of the twinks leaned in close, his perfect fingers brushing against Oliver’s chest. "You’re hot," he purred, "but we’re going to make sure you’re hot everywhere, babe."

Before Oliver could respond, one of the twinks bowed down in front of him, his fingers trailing along his thighs as he felt a sudden jolt in his lower half. His pants tightened, but this time not from muscle—his package was swelling, pressing hard against the fabric. He groaned, the sensation almost overwhelming, as his manhood shifted, growing thicker but not longer, it was becoming shorter. His dick ending at a short 3.9 inches, but very thick and veiny. The twink stood up, satisfied, brushing his fingers along Oliver’s bulge slowly while smirking.

"Now you’re packing like a real stud," he whispered with a smirk.

Another twink, standing behind him, traced his hand along Oliver’s broad back before settling on his rear. With a teasing squeeze, he murmured, “Let’s give you something that really stands out.”

Oliver gasped as his backside started to change. His ass filled out, growing firm and round, pushing against the tight fabric of his pants. His hips widened slightly, giving him a more defined, powerful stance. He could feel the weight of his new, perfectly sculpted butt, the kind that drew attention wherever he went.

The third twink, stepped in front of him. "But that face..." he said, lifting a hand to Oliver’s chiseled jawline, "it needs to be flawless. Let’s make you like, a real pretty boy."

As the twink’s fingers brushed against his face, Oliver’s features started to shift. His cheekbones lifted slightly, giving him a more youthful, angular look. His skin smoothed out, free of any imperfections. His lips plumped slightly, taking on a fuller, more kissable shape, while his eyes brightened, becoming sharper and more striking. He could feel his whole face rearranging into something undeniably hot, almost model-like, with a perfect mix of masculinity and beauty.

The twinks stepped back to admire their work. “Not done yet,” one of them murmured, reaching up to run his hand through Oliver’s hair. His curls were wild and unkempt from the transformation so far, but that was about to change. With a snap of his fingers, the twink adjusted Oliver’s hair, turning it into a sleek, styled cut that framed his new face perfectly. His hair shortened and cleaned up, still curly but with a deliberately messy yet stylish look, the kind that took no effort but looked flawless.

“Now you’re perfect,” the first twink said, admiring him from head to toe. Oliver glanced into the elevator’s mirror. His reflection was nearly unrecognizable—a mix of power, beauty, and primal masculinity. His muscles were large, but his proportions were refined. His face was sharp and stunning. His package strained against his pants, his ass round, firm and rock hard to the touch.

As the elevator continued to climb, the twinks circled him like vultures, admiring their creation. He was a masterpiece of both raw, primal strength and irresistible beauty—a perfect alpha, but with a twinkish touch of aesthetic perfection.

Oliver could barely think. His thoughts were slow and clouded, reduced to basic, primal urges. All he could feel was the overwhelming power coursing through his body, mixed with the vain satisfaction of his perfect looks. He flexed in the mirror, grinning dumbly as the elevator stopped, one last time.

The twinks left the elevator with Oliver, all going to his apartment for a little 'test drive'.

#straight to bi #nerd to jock #fuckboy tf #musk #male transformation #male tf #jockification #mental change #muscle tf #jock tf #transformation

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iamred-iamyellow · 29 days

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake.

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement.

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch.

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets.

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.”

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him. Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight.

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper.

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen.

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips.

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit.

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.”

“I said sit. down.”

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch.

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked.

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.”

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago.

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off.

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt.

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?”

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter.

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando.

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone.

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good.

#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz jr drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr fanfic #mafia au #mafia!f1 #mafia!carlos sainz #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 8 months

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Thinking about Baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who had the largest smirk on his face when he watched your new boy toy and you leave the pool party, already knowing the awkward tension between you both will only escalate once you're both alone.

Baby daddy!Miguel who purposely goes out of his way to start dropping you a bagel and coffee at your place of work when it’s your weeks with gabi, saying it was on the way to work and how he remembered how you once made an offhand comment about how you never have time for breakfast before dropping off your daughter at school or at summer soccer camp before going to work.

Baby daddy!Miguel started to call you your nickname he had given you during college. First time dropping it casually during a swap, trying to garner your reaction, which was nothing more than a small laugh and a curious head tilt.

Baby daddy!Miguel who (after a few beers with Peter) finally realizes why he’s been oddly territorial over you as of recently. Before a new guy entered the picture, it was as if you two never stopped being together, sure there weren’t any kissing or hand holding, but when it was just you three, it felt like being a part of the family you were a part of pre-splitting up. You and Miguel weren’t like his parents, there was no toxicity or bad blood between you both, just two people who grew apart.

And now, he was drunk, crying on Peter’s shoulder while his friend rubbed his back to soothe him, coming to the realization that he’ll always love you. Because you’ve never given him a reason not to.

Baby daddy!Miguel who is now on your doorstep after dropping your daughter off at soccer camp. A bouquet of flowers hiding behind his back, wearing a white button up, with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black slacks and dress shoes. Taking a shaky breath before knocking, feeling dejau hit him, catching himself in the same position 12 years ago when he first came to your dorm to ask you out.

Baby daddy!Miguel whose whole world came crashing down when the same guy from the carne asada opened the door instead of you, shirtless. With messy hair and sweatpants that we’re hanging low enough for Miguel to realize what had just transpired in your place moments ago.

Baby daddy!Miguel, whose heart shattered when you reintroduced him as your boyfriend.

—

Shaky hands, a thin layer of sweat, dry mouth, if Miguel didn’t know better, he would have thought he was sick. His left hand held the boutique behind him while the other fidgeted with the small excess flap of his belt, only to place the hand in his pocket when he heard the sound of muffled steps approaching the door. Clearing his throat as the door let out a faint click sound before opening.

Miguel had to drip hard on the thorny stems so he didn’t drop them out of shock. He tried his best to keep a calm expression on his face. But it seems his poker face wasn’t good enough, because the smirk your boy toy had on his face as he leaned against the door said it all. Despite being shorter than Miguel, he was acting as if he was on top of the world. Miguel blinked out of his trance when he heard your voice say a faint “who is it?” from the next room before you appeared next to him. If the sight of the man next to you wasn’t enough for Miguel, yours certainly sent him on a downwards spiral.

You were in shorts and his shirt.

“Oh Miguel! Hey, you remember Henry, my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

“Yeah.” He mumbled with a head nod, to which Henry returned as he crossed his arms.

Fuck.

“Um-sorry, Gabriella said she forgot her good pair of soccer shoes.” Miguel managed to say after clearing his throat, not wanting to make a fool of himself anymore then he probably already had.

To be fair, she did forget them.

��

Part 3<

Part 5<

Not proofread.

Word count: 600

Taglist: @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanamee @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @migueloharastruelove @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @strawberryjuice9 @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel fanfic #Miguel ohara #miguel ohara blurb #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel ohara drabble #spiderman 2099 fanfic #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel

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ultravioletrayz · 9 months

Note

This idea has been rotting in my head, and I have to let you know!

Giving Miguel a handjob in his office but even when he cums you still continue, his cum pooling over your hand and his dick, making Miguel a moaning mess, eyes rolling back saying “no more, can’t—too much!” basically overstimulating miguel with a handjob :3

Poor Miggy :(

ANYWAYS-

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, subby!miguel, handjob, overstimulation (m. receiving), praise kink

Summary: overstimulating miguel!!

A/N: sorry this is so short, I kinda focused in on the point of action. I might make a longer fic in future and incorporate something similar tho

Word Count: 530 (unedited)

“Mmph- fuck! Cariño, por favor. No puedo.” Miguel whimpers, his voice muffled by the hand you have lazily held over his pretty lips. His hips jolt and buck in his desk chair, signalling that he’s approaching yet another orgasm.

Your hand is coated with thick, creamy ropes of his cum, his chair stained with his release causing his thighs to twitch at the feeling of his seed dripping onto the floor of his office. The office he had begged you to follow him into so that you could help him release some stress. It was supposed to be just a quickie, a handjob from his pretty girl, a few passionate kisses, and then the two of you returning to work. But two orgasms in, Miguel knew that he wasn’t escaping your grasp.

“Shh, Miguel,” You coo, licking at the side of Miguel’s throat, forcing another string of adorable little whines out of him. “You’re being such a good boy f’me, just one more, yeah? One more time, baby.”

Miguel shakes his head, his sharp red eyes rolling back as a few tears roll down his flushed cheeks due to just how overwhelmed he is, how sensitive his stupidly fat cock is now that your skilful hands have ripped four orgasms from his tense body and your words of praise travel straight to his balls.

“Mami, I can’t- hah! I can’t come anymore!” Miguel whimpers, eyes locked on the way your glistening hand strokes his aching cock, the veins on either side bulging as the wet, gushy sounds of you pumping his creamy dick fill his otherwise silent office.

“Yes you can, honey. You’re doing so well, it’d be a shame to stop now.” You whisper, nibbling on Miguel’s ear just to take advantage of his vulnerability in this heated moment.

Miguel yelps and whimpers as his back arches against the headrest of the chair, the sweat on his tall, tan, muscular body catching the light and making his skin shimmer in a way that has you weak in the knees, opting to jerk him off at an even faster pace that has him crying and digging his claws into the seat underneath him.

His hips spasm as he whimpers against your hand, drool being smeared all over your palm as his sharp red eyes look up into your own, his gaze tired yet loving as your pretty hands send him to his peak once again.

Miguel screams your name as his throbbing cock spurts thick, sticky ropes of cum into the air, the excess trickling down his shaft and saturating his heavy, trembling balls. He closes his eyes and pants, giving your hand a few quick pecks before you pull it away.

“Mi alma,” He whispers, letting his head fall back against your chest as you stand behind him with a box of tissues (because it was going to take the whole box to clean up the absolute mess of cum covering his quivering body).

“I’m here, Migs, I’m here,” You whisper, kissing the top of his head as you bring a tissue to the tip of his cock, earning a whiny moan from Miguel.

Well, he certainly didn’t feel stressed anymore.

On an unrelated note, happy new year!! 💜

#ultravioletrayz #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderverse smut #miguel x you #atsv smut #𖤓uv-c𖤓

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incognit0slut · 9 months

Text

Pretty Boy

spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) sloppy, filthy male oral a/n: this is more of a drabble (915 words) so there’s no taglist. I was going through clips trying to make an edit and this scene had me thinking, ‘I need to give this man some head.’ Thus, this is the result of my horny mind. Sorry not sorry.

HE WAS TOO PRETTY TO RESIST. With lips slightly parted, the strong lines of his features softened into a restful state as he savored the way your lips wrapped around him.

Your mouth slid down the length of his cock, tongue running along every inch, and you watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, soft stomach heaving with every labored breath.

"Please..." he groaned, the word strained as it left his tongue. The way he whimpered and thrust his hips into your mouth sent a rush of adrenaline through your body. You had him right where you wanted him, on the edge, desperate for release, flushed with sweat beading against his forehead.

And who were you to deny a man in need? You kept your eyes fixed on his face as your nails dug into his thighs, and pushed down even further, the tip of him finally budging into the back of your throat. You tried to swallow him whole, yet you couldn't help but gag a little, rearing back with a cough.

A string of saliva slipped out of your mouth as you looked up at him. He really was pretty. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes as he watched your every movement. A faint stubble adorned his chiseled jawline. And his lips, wide and soft, were slacked open as you leaned forward again, the same time his fingers found their way into your hair, grabbing a fistful of it as your tongue licked the underside of his cock.

You started with just a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, one right over his slit, and you felt his hips buck underneath you. You wrapped your fingers around him as you slowly took the head in your mouth, sucking carefully, letting excess spit run down until it collided with your hand at his base.

You twisted your hand around him, because everything was slippery enough to do that, and you started to move your head. It wasn't long until the room was filled with obscene lewd noises followed by his moans of pleasure. His desperate whimper was like music in your ears, and you continued to move along his cock, giving everything he wanted.

With each bob of your head, you took him deeper until the tip hit your throat and he moaned loudly as you gagged again. But you continued to take him deeper until his whole head was past the back of your throat and you fought the urge to swallow him fully.

"Oh, god," he moaned. "That—that's it, such a pretty mouth..."

His praise only gave you the urge to take him deeper and all of a sudden your lips were at his base, his cock buried deep inside your mouth further than you ever thought possible.

You slowly gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, pretty and needy. He looked down at you when you stopped moving, utterly still with his cock buried deep inside your throat; your cheeks flushed and eyes watery, lips stretched wide around his girth. Your stare was unrelenting and his grip on your hair tightened.

He was close. You could feel it. You felt it in the way he guided your head, speeding you up faster and faster until he was practically using your mouth. You did your best to use your hand, but eventually, you gave up and kept your throat open, letting him use you however he liked. After all, he looked too pretty for you to stop him.

Your jaw hurt, and your knees burned from being on the floor for too long, but you didn't care. Not when he was looking at you like you were the best gift he had ever received. And maybe you were, because honestly, you would give him everything he asked for. Not only because he deserved it, but because you enjoyed being used for his pleasure as much as he did.

You moaned when he tightened the grip in your hair, the sound sending vibrations over his cock, causing him to inhale a sharp breath through his teeth. You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth relentlessly.

You gagged around him again, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, your eyes watering, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. He looked down at you, and god, he couldn't hold it any longer.

With sloppy, determined thrusts, he finally erupted in your mouth with a groan. You felt your throat swell with the warm, salty substance as you inhaled through your nose and swallowed it down eagerly. He continued to reach his high and you continued to suck, making sure you swallowed every last drop until he could no longer take it anymore, his body going weak from the overstimulation.

You finally released him with a soft pop when he started to relax. You felt his hand brush over your face gently while you stayed on your knees, right between his thighs. A blissed-out, tired smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you in wonder.

You smiled back at him. A gentle haze lingered in his eyes, his brown orbs seeming a little bit brighter. His tousled hair, touched by his erratic movements because he couldn’t keep still, framed a face illuminated by a serene glow. His features were a beauty beyond the physical, leaving you utterly captivated.

He was so damn pretty, and the best thing was—he was your pretty boy.

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melrodrigo · 6 months

Text

friends? - cairo sweet

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summary: A new class leads to some heated feelings

Warnings: Finally wrote an enemies to lovers, they’re academic rivals ur honor, my writing, cairo being a meanie, quite an excessive use of italics

Word Count: 1k+

A/n: wanted to practice some, tell me what u think? do you want a part two?

“Cairo Sweet.” You read aloud, scrolling down your class list for the next year. Winnie —your best friend since childhood—laughs quietly at the sound.

“Funny name.” She mumbles when you quirk an eyebrow at her.

There was no reason to think ‘Sweet’ was a weird surname; however, Winnie, at the moment, was high out of her mind, so you let it go.

“Jacob Weinstein, Sophie Bell, Anthony Smith—god I don’t know any of these people!” You whisper, the slightest bit of anxiety creeping in.

Your first day is tomorrow, and you’ve sworn to yourself not to check who is in your specific class, wanting to try to spontaneously make new friends.

The keyword was try, because god you were bad at small talk.

Even in her mellowed state, Winnie could tell the nerves were settling in. She reaches out and draws you towards her, sitting so you’re facing each other, only a finger away from completely pressing into one another.

She swirls the lollipop in her mouth around, angling your head to look her in the eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t sweat it, please? It makes me sad to see your pretty face in distress.” She spoke evenly, making you feel like you had steady ground to walk on, helping you come back to earth. You let out a deep breath, one you didn’t know you were holding.

“You’ve got to stop flirting with anyone and anything that moves.” You tell her, lightheartedly. She had helped taken the edge off, for now.

Bless her heart, Winnie’s reassurance lasted about until she left for her own home, leaving you alone with your thoughts in the big lonely house you had to call home.

It takes a book, or maybe two, for your eyelids to flutter shut, comforted by the smell of old paper and the feeling of coarse parchment.

Walking to school is no different. You listen half-heartedly to whatever Winnie decides to babble about this specific morning, your mind elsewhere.

As you near the doors of your next class, Winnie gives you a quick wink.

“Good luck soldier.” She says, smiling an almost teasing smile.

The minute you push open the doors you’re taken by surprise. It was fairly early, and though you expected no one would be there yet, there was a girl sitting smack dab in the middle of the class. Her head rested on her hands, staring blankly at the chalkboard in front of her.

You walk up silently to the desk behind her, far enough so you weren’t in the first few rows, but close enough that you wouldn’t be sitting with all the slackers in the back.

You slip out a book, kick your feet up to rest on the wooden table, and relaxed slightly. She seemed to pay no mind to you, and didn’t seem to want to pay any mind to you.

After a few pages in, you realize you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again, not quite comprehending the letters that now looked like a random jumble.

There was a sinking feeling starting in your stomach, as if something were twisting and screaming for your attention.

Table or chair, wind or sun—you couldn’t quite figure out what it was that was bothering you.

Your eyes wandered from the page to your surroundings, trying to pinpoint what it was.

You must’ve been making quite some noise, because the girl in front of you turns around, an obvious distaste on her face. The moment you lock eyes you feel it.

Ah, I know what it is now.

It seems almost silly to say, but you could swear, she was the root of your problems.

There was an almost inimical aura about her, the way she acts—the flick of her eyes, the slight clench in her jaw, her rigid robotic posture—was enough for you to cower.

Of course, you had never even talked to the girl, but you could tell all at once, you weren’t going to be good friends.

“Could you stop moving so much? It’s distracting me.” She tells you, in a manner too rude to be a real request.

Her eyes narrow when you don’t answer. You had elected instead to stare at her freckles, ones that littered her face. Not counting your current feelings for her, you couldn’t deny it, she was beautiful.

However, the way she was acting now was more than enough for you to be sure she was not someone friend-worthy, and you ignored her remark.

In a quiet retaliation, you wait till she titled her head back that you scratch the rug beneath you with the heels of your feet.

It creates a faint screeching sound. When the mysterious girl turns back once again, this time with fury in her eyes, you avert your eyes and look around the room, whistling.

You could tell you were pushing her buttons, but oh boy if it wasn’t just the most fun. If it weren’t for the sound of the door opening you’re positive she would’ve gotten up and confronted you.

In walked a short, scruffy, middle-aged white man whom you concluded must have been the teacher.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be in yet. Students aren’t usually thrilled to learn my class.” He said, sounding pleased with himself to have two new focused students.

“I’m quite excited to see how it’s going to go, I’ve never learned with a favorite author of mine.” The girl spoke, this time with no venom in her voice.

The professor let out a strangled sort of squeak, obviously caught off guard.

Great. She’s also a suck-up.

“Well, i’ll be damned. I’ve never met someone that’s read my book— other than my wife. Although I’m not sure if she even read the whole thing.” He said, failing to hide the excitement and disbelief he was surely feeling.

“I thought it was amazing commentary on modern marriages and love through difficult times.” She said, the light from outside lighting her hair up a lighter shade of brown.

Blah, blah, blah. Someone save me.

As if hearing your prayers, another student entered the room, effectively cutting off that godforsaken conversation. More pupils start filling up the class, and even though you can tell the professor wants to keep talking to the brunette, he steps up to the small platform.

“Good morning class, my name is Mr. Miller, and I’ll be teaching you english literature.” He announces, voice full. You can tell he’d practiced this beforehand.

Your plan to make friends, to both your joy and dismay, get crushed almost immediately. There are no group activities or opportunities to even speak to the other people in the class, all attention directed to the front while Mr. Miller scrabbles on the chalkboard.

The brunette’s name, you learn, is Cairo. She manages to be the first person to raise her hand, to challenge Mr.Miller, to question almost every single thing on the board.

And even though that nagging feeling you felt when you first saw her is gone, you let yourself dissociate and simply stare at the girl. If the class was going to be boring, it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye candy, would it?

“Now, who can tell me exactly why Orwell chose to use these sets of words? What do they give to the overall tone of the book, umm-y/n?” Mr.Miller called, looking from his list of students.

You stir in your chair uncomfortably; you have not been listening to him. The air had turned very cold; your heart picking up its pace.

“I don’t know.” You mumble after a while of every face turned your way, impatience in their gaze. You shrink into your seat.

You hear a little scoff from ahead of you, coming from none other than Cairo Sweet.

You bite back an insult, and try to ignore the disappointed murmur that comes out of Mr.Miller.

Before you know it the hour is gone, and the sound of books stacking against one another breaks you out your daze.

Winnie’s waiting for you outside the door, quite creepily, you tell her as you walk together to your next class; a subject that you both have.

“So, how was it?” She nudges you lightly, smiling expectedly.

You flash her a tight lipped smile, then let it drop when you know she’d be able to see right through you.

You grip her arm and lean in closer, checking around you.

“There was this one girl, she was horrible!” You whisper, a new spark of energy flowing through you at the prospect of telling Winnie about it.

“She was the BIGGEST teachers pet, and she said something so rude to me before class, so like we were sitting and…” You continue to recount the story, trying your hardest to recreate Cairo’s glare.

When you get done, you turn to Winnie, waiting for her to join in on your gossiping.

“So am I going to witness an enemies to lovers type of thing right in front of me?” She sighs, exasperated.

You’re so shocked you don’t follow her into the class, stood rooted to the spot at the door.

“Wait, what?”

#cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader #millers girl #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #enemies to lovers #melrodrigo

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fleur-bbyy · 11 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ GET IT UP! s. gojo (0.9k)

is satoru’s call really more important than you?

warnings: oral (m receiving), suckin’ him off while he’s otp, pet names (like excessive pet names), slight throat fucking, nickname toru, MDNI!!!

a/n: eepy and whoreknee

“Can’t really do this right now, baby.” Satoru was never one to deny his own pleasure.

He’d already been reduced to shaky breaths by you just kissing your way down his body. Taking your time to find every bump and ridge in his skin and marking it with your mouth. Simultaneously fumbling with the button and zipper on his pants and practically gleaming when you saw his heavy cock spring free.

“Y’got the sweetest fuckin’ lips, angel, but we really can’t right now.” His voice wasn’t as firm this time. It was breathier, unstable.

You were a second away from taking his cock into your mouth when the incessant buzz of his phone began to vibrate the desk above your head.

“‘M sorry, baby, told you I had to take it.” He caressed your face before gently patting your head. “Just give me a minute, babe, and I’m all yours. I promise.” You still rolled your eyes as he pressed the ‘answer’ button and held the device to his ear, not annoyed at him, but whoever was on the other line.

“Please?” You mouthed, gesturing with your eyes down to his cock and back up to him. A pitiful, pleading look painted on your face. Satoru pouted back down at you and shook his head, whispering a small “I’m sorry.” before bringing his attention back to his cell phone.

That short minute quickly turns to five agonizing minutes of having to listen to talks of curses and you already felt yourself growing bored. Resting your head on his lap from where you’re perched on the floor in front of him, trying to find something to keep you entertained. Your fingers quickly grow tired of tracing shapes on Satoru’s thigh. In an act of rebellion, your eyes dart up to his to make sure he’s still engrossed in the phone call and you experimentally run a finger over the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. Smirking when he shoots you a warning glare and mutters a quick “mhm” to whoever’s on the other end.

The warning doing nothing but spur you on to continue. With a coy smile, you begin to take him into your mouth. Relishing in the feeling of him twitch inside you when you begin to run your tongue over his tip. Not taking him in all the way to tease him even more. He sinks down further into his chair and a light sheen of sweat begins to make his forehead shine, causing a few strands of his soft, white hair to dampen and stick. He was too focused on trying to control his breathing and not let any incriminating sounds slip out to notice his hair hanging begin in his eyes. You almost laugh when you hear the man on the other end of the phone ask your boyfriend if he’s feeling alright.

“Yeah, y-yeah. Just… can I put’cha on hold for a sec.” You can’t see him mute the call, but you know he does by the way he lets his moans spill from his pink lips. Letting one of his hands fall to your head and push himself deeper into your throat. You allow him to shallowly thrust his hips up into you, throwing his head back before speaking again.

“Gotta lot of nerve, sweetheart,” He stops again, biting his lip to hold back a whine, “call’s important. Y’know that.” You pull yourself off of him and he groans at the loss of warmth.

“I just wanna have fun with you, ‘Toru.” He audibly groans at the nickname. The sound going straight to your aching core. He knows that you know what that name does to him. You replace your mouth with your hand and begin to gently pump up and down his length. Running your thumb over his flushed, leaking tip and using his pre as extra lube. Your eyes dart back and forth between his cock and his growing-pink face.

You can tell he’s debating something by the way his nose scrunches and his eyebrows furrow. He looks back to his phone to see how long he’s had the man on hold before looking back to you and softening his face.

“Okay, okay. Wha’dya need from me, baby? Tell ‘Toru what’cha need.” You smile victoriously, removing your hand to slip his cock back into your mouth once more. Bobbing your head up and down a few more times to give him a taste of what he could have if he focused all of his attention on you. Pulling off to give his length one more slow, tantalizing lick from base to tip.

“Hang up and you can have whatever you want from me.” Your voice was smooth, music to his ears. He plasters a cocky smirk on his face before bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey… something just came up. Gonna have to get back to you at a better time.” He doesn’t even wait for the man to respond before ending the call. Lazily dropping his phone to his desk before turning his attention back to you.

“Now, I believe you owe me one, sweetness.”

#divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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frostbitebakery · 3 months

Text

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

#🧄#commander bly #star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #blyla #my art #frostbitebakery art #thank you for your patience and the lovely prompt!#the dog tag says scan to access

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everyonewooeverywhere · 3 months

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ dom!yunho x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ yunho's adrenaline when he comes off stage is through the roof. sure, he there are many ways to get it out of his system, but he'd rather take it out on you.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI (warnings below the cut)

word count ✭ 1k

warnings ✭ smut, unprotected sex, he's mean, name calling (whore, pathetic, filthy), mc has hair long enough for him to grab, overstimulation, fingering, sweaty sex 🙂 (please lmk if i forgot anything)

notes ✭ i fucking never write anything in one sitting so this is truly an incredible accomplishment honestly. anyway, enjoy~

honestly, i just wanted to write sweaty yunho sex 👍

reblogs/feedback is very very appreciated ❤️

Normally excessive heat would be a negative factor for your mood. The sweat covering your back and soaking your shirt would usually make you aggressively uncomfortable, and you, on most occasions, would despise the way the fabric sticks to your skin. It was something about yourself that you were beyond convinced would never change.

But fuck you were so unprepared for how your boyfriend looked when he was sweaty. Every single time he stepped off a stage after a long show he knew you would be in his dressing room for him. Out of breath and rushed by adrenaline he’d throw the door open to find you waiting so prettily for him. With his hair stuck to his forehead and his breathing ragged, there was little you could do to stop the throbbing between your legs.

The adrenaline coursing through him always made him so much rougher. He grabbed you out of the chair you were waiting for him by the base of your hair. You whined at the pain but moved where he directs you.

He was so quick to press you up against the wall. Your hands pinned above your head as he grinds himself into your ass, grunting in your ear with every movement of his hips. His chest is glued to your back and you can feel his sweat soaking into your shirt.

With his face in your neck, he inhales deeply and groans as he rolls his hips again. His wet hair sticks to you face and neck as he bites and kisses the skin.

“Yu…” you whimper. You feel so trapped in his embrace. With no ability to move your arms or even so much as wiggle out of his hold. Every part of your body is trapped between his filthy body and the wall. And that’s exactly where you need to be. For the sake of his sanity and for the sake of getting yourself off.

He flips up your skirt with his free hand without removing his face from your neck. You feel him fumble around with his belt, and you wiggle your hips in anticipation.

Which is not the right response because Yunho pushes you further into the wall with his body.

“Stop fucking moving,” he whispers lowly in your ear. His hot breath making you fall deeper into insanity.

He pulls your panties to the side and runs two fingers between your folds. He scoffs, “God you’re so fucking filthy.” He pushes those two fingers inside of you as deep as they can go, “I’ve barely even played with you, and you’re already this wet? It’s so pathetic.” His pace with his fingers is ruthless, but he knows you can take it.

“Oh fu- oh my god!” you squirm in his hold, He lets you of your hands to tangle his fingers back in your hair, yanking your head back.

“Are you close?” He asked condescendingly. You nod dumbly, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Yunho couldn’t help himself. Staring at your parted lips made him twitch in his partially unbuttoned pants. He leaned over your face and spit into your open mouth. He couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip at how mindlessly you closed your mouth and swallowed it. “Fuck..” he groaned lowly.

He was so hard now that it was painful. The way you obeyed him and let him play with you so mindlessly was too much. You were on the verge of an orgasm when he pulled his fingers out, but he’d pushed his cock inside you before you could even start complaining.

The thrusts of his hips were even more sporadic than his fingers. He was so pent up and frustrated that he couldn’t think of anything else but fucking you relentlessly. His grip on your hair only tightened as he lost control.

At this point you were covered in his sweat. From your neck and face to your back and thighs, no part of you was safe. Somehow it was the pure filth that made everything feel so much more erotic.

Just thinking about it brought you closer, “Yunho fuck! ‘m gonna come…”

He snapped his hips into you, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Please! I can’t!” You were running out of breath.

“Do you really think you deserve to come? After how filthy and disgusting you’ve been?” He scoffed, “You’re so pathetic.”

You were overwhelmed to the point of tears. The pleasure you felt was beyond comprehension, but it also hurt so bad. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You wanted to be good for him, but his pace made it impossible. He felt you tighten around him. It was suffocating. Your legs and voice shook as you came.

He didn’t stop his pace though, “Are you fucking serious?” he glowered “Did you just come?” He pressed your face into the cold wall, “Who the fuck told you that you could do that?”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed with your cheek squished into the wall by his hand.

“I don’t think you are sorry,” he rubbed vicious circles on your incredibly sensitive and swollen clit. Your tears fell harder from the stimulation, “I give you so much, and you take it for granted. It’s like you're begging to be treated like a greedy whore.”

You whimpered when he thrust into one last time before filling you up completely. He pulls your panties back over your pussy and presses his fingers over the cloth, “My pretty pretty cum dump.” He hums.

When you try to push yourself off the wall he stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? I-“

“On your knees,” he says. You obey. “You wanted to act like a greedy whore. So I’m gonna treat you like one.”

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jeong yunho smut #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work

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tojipie · 11 months

Text

as long as trade professions exists i WILL write this man working as each and every one of them.

mechanic toji x fem reader | 2.2k words !

content: smut ! semi public (??) not sure if garage sex counts

the feeling of your shoes losing their grip nearly sends you flying as you step into the car shop lobby.

whoever was working tonight clearly had no grasp on what a wet floor sign was, opting to cover the floor in what felt like 2 feet of suds.

“oh! sorry!” suguru exclaims, extending an arm for you to hold onto. “you okay?”

“i’m ok sugu,” you tell him, feeling your anger dissipate at the sight of the shop’s newest bright-eyed apprentice.

you can practically hear him asking you not to tell his boss, eyes big like a kicked puppy.

the smile you shoot him is soft and reassuring.

suguru apologizes again, grabbing a caution sign from the supply closet.

“he’s in the garage if that’s who you’re looking for.” the apprentice adds, sending you in your husband's direction with a smile.

“toji?” you yell, scanning the 8-door garage for his telltale mop of black hair.

“on your right!” he shouts, waving an oil-stained hand in the air to flag you down. cars in varying conditions line your path as you make a beeline for your husband, following his black footprints like breadcrumbs

a 59’ impala comes into view as you weave in between the tall legs of the suspension machines. toji is crouched on the driver’s side with his back to you, fiddling with the front end of the vehicle.

“woah,” you whisper, trailing your hand over interior seats wrapped in glossy leather.

the cherry red exterior of the classic car is blinding, waxed to perfection by none other than the man in front of you

“aht, aht—hey.” toji chides, motioning for you to get your hands off the car.

“no fingerprints,” he says firmly, tossing you a rag from his equipment cart.

you quickly wipe down the headrest of the driver's seat, restoring it to its original sheen. the residue left on your hand smells like lemons, the sterile scent of carwash soap.

“you fix this up by yourself?” you ask, watching him fasten a new headlight into place. the amount of detailing was beyond impressive.

“course i did.” your husband chuckles. “can’t even trust these other guys with an oil change.”

you laugh, recalling the shop’s newest employee and your little wet floor debacle. toji reaches for the back of your calf, rubbing your leg affectionately from his spot on the floor.

“you’re the one that hires them.” you remind him.

“yeah, gotta stop doing that,” he mumbles, snorting at the way you smack his shoulder in protest.

the impala looks fresh off the conveyor belt with the amount of restoration that had been done to it. you can’t quite recall the last time you’d seen toji put this much work into a vehicle.

“what’s the story with this one?” you ask, stepping back to let your husband stand up.

navy blue coveralls come into view as toji rises from the floor, chest peeking out from where the one-piece garment is unzipped. he’s filthy, covered in motor oil and sweat. god, he looked good.

the raven-haired mechanic steps back with a cocky smile, zipping the garment down to just above his waist.

“what, like what you see?” he asks, slipping toned arms out of his uniform and tying the excess around his waist.

your mouth goes dry, eagerly taking in the way his body ripples under his black tank top.

“nah, nothing i haven’t seen before.” you tease, taking the spray bottle and cloth he holds out for you.

“right, okay.” your husband laughs, ego clearly knocked down a peg.

you’re wiping down the front windshield when he speaks again, answering your question from earlier.

“one of our regulars dropped her off a week ago, needed some help with parts,” he explains. the “her” in question being the obscenely glossy car in between the two of you.

“how’d the inside look?” you ask, strolling over to the sink. the smell of leather polish and windex gradually fades with a bit of scrubbing.

your husband scoffs, recalling the abhorrent state of the under-hood.

“fuck.. awful.” he explains, handing you a roll of paper towels. “some people don’t deserve cars like these.” he laughs, rubbing your back as you join him at the hood.

your husband fiddles with the tool cart, wheeling it closer to begin working on the tires.

“you look good tonight.” toji mumbles, leaning down to accept a kiss from you. you tug on the neck of his wifebeater just as he begins to pull away, roping him into a deeper kiss this time.

“careful.” scarred lips mumble. you feel his hand trail down your back, slipping under the waistband of your jeans and leaving just as fast.

“stop being a tease,” you tell him.

“s’ one hour till quitting time.” he says, grabbing a wrench from the cart. “can you make it, pretty girl? or do you need it right now?”

“i can wait.” you lie, not wanting to distract him from the job.

he nods, clearly not believing you.

“you remember how to get these bolts off?” he asks, handing you the wrench with a sly grin. his hulking form settles behind you as you crouch down in front of the tire he’d picked.

vintage cars like these needed a lot more manual work, not being able to withstand the force of any automated tools.

you unscrew the bolt with ease, fidgeting at the feeling of two warm hands rubbing up and down your waist.

“mhm, just like i taught you.” toji says, nosing at the curve of your neck.

you twist another one free, groaning at the feeling of scarred lips suctioning onto your neck.

“can’t focus.” you whimper, trying to wiggle free of your husband’s embrace.

“s’ not your job to focus.” he chuckles, biting the meat of your shoulder for good measure. toji takes the equipment from you and replaces the bolts with new ones, motioning for you to stand up.

you wait as he washes up in the sink, scrubbing the grime from his hands and forearms. thick hands dry themselves on his uniform, stalking over to you with a look that can only be described as lust.

“think that’s all for today,” he says, voice hinting at something much deeper.

“you’re still on the clock,” you tell him half seriously, taking note of the 45 minutes left in his shift. still, warm hands settle on your hips, backing you up against the washing station

“yeah?” he says, entertaining your jest. deft fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, lifting the garment off your body.

“funny how that works out.” he starts, “guess I'll have to live with getting paid to fuck you.”

your skin is on fire, prickling with every calculated brush of his hand. you lean up to kiss him again, feeling his tongue flit over your bottom lip.

“someone will hear,” you whine in between kisses.

“they know not to bring it up around me,” he says, lifting you onto the counter with ease.

toji’s zipper is next to go, stopping just under his crotch to reveal his boxers.

convenient you think, palming him through the opening in his coveralls. now that you think about it, why hadn’t you two fucked in the shop before?

scared lips peck over the tops of your covered breasts, biting down momentarily to leave a red mark.

the whine that escapes your mouth echoes throughout the spacious garage. blood rushing to your ears as embarrassment takes over.

“shhhh,” he tells you, crowding impossibly closer to muffle your sounds.

“can you stay quiet for me?” he asks, genuinely curious. a small nod is all he needs to seal your mouths in another kiss, shucking your bottoms down along with your panties to position himself in between your thighs.

you scoot to the edge of the counter, kicking off your shoes and wrapping your legs around your husband's waist. he doesn’t free himself from his boxers just yet, choosing to grind himself on your heat while you leave dark hickeys at the bottom of his neck.

“fuck.” he groans, flinching at how loud the sound echoes in the garage.

“quiet,” you whisper.

“i know, i know baby.” you watch as toji hooks a thumb into his boxers, his manhood already dripping with pre.

you pull away from your husband's neck right as he pushes in, a thin string of saliva connecting you to the dark bloom of purple your lips had left.

it’s a tight fit, but not impossible. the angle you’re at has you clenching down on the cock that’s splitting you open, squeezing him like a vice.

“fuck.” you whimper, lifting your husband’s tank top to expose his abs. toji bites the hem for you, letting you caress the dips of his toned muscles.

the distant echo of his rhythmic thrusts reverberates throughout the shop, drowning out your shared pants and groans.

“no fucking point in being quiet, huh?.” he mumbles with a smirk, taking you by surprise as thick fingers slide under your thighs and hoist you into the air.

“wait—wh-” you’re cut off as toji turns around, holding himself inside of you as he walks you over to the car.

“oh shit.” you gasp, mouth agape as you’re set down on the long hood of the impala.

your husband props his knee up on the vehicle, pummeling into you at an angle even deeper than before.

“thought you—ah- said no fingerprints.” you whimper, feeling yourself slide up the hood of the car with every thrust.

thick arms wrap around you, holding you in place while your husband ruts into you from above.

“you’re helping me wipe this thing down after.--fuck” toji says with finality, pulling you into a deep kiss with a hand cradling the back of your head.

the car continues to rock as the two of you go at it, filling the shop with noises that are beyond sinful.

“wanna ride you,” you mumble, taking in the way his eyes darken.

you’re flipped and carried up the hood of the car, the two of you now fully seated on a bed of cherry red aluminum.

toji settles into his back, satisfied with his work. he does it all without leaving your walls, cock still buried to the hilt.

“come on.” he encourages, moving you up and down his shaft with two hands around your waist. you’re practically being tossed around on his cock like you weigh nothing, panting and groaning while your walls struggle to accommodate his length.

“just how i like it, give it to me,” he tells you, leaning back on his forearms to watch where you two connect.

“gonna make me fucking cum, shit.”

you rock yourself onto your husband's dick, feeling him twitch each time you sink to the base.

“wait, wait.” you pant, smiling at the idea that just dawned on you.

you let toji slip out of you for the first time in half an hour, readjusting so your back is to him. cautiously, you reach both arms back, feeling him wrap both hands around your wrists.

“reverse cowgirl? on a fucking chevy? shit.” he chuckles, clearly impressed at your bold move. the raven-haired mechanic gathers both your wrists in one hand, using the other to guide his cock back into your heat.

the first thrust is agonizingly deep, pushing you closer to your edge. strong legs anchor themselves onto the hood of the car, steel-toed work boots leaving murky footprints.

“ah shit—like this?” toji groans, each hand holding your arms behind you at the wrist.

“want it like this? want me to ruin you?

"please." you groan, feeling your climax hit you like a tsunami.

the sound that rips out of toji is purely carnal, a long groan reverberating throughout the garage.

"fuck--oh fuck-hah" he pants, still reeling from the sensation of your walls pulsating around him.

you slowly lift off of his cock, holding onto his leg to balance. warm, viscous fluid drips down your thighs and onto the red surface beneath you. you hadn't even realized he came inside with how intense your climax was.

"fuck, look at this." the raven-haired mechanic chuckles.

the state of the car is absolutely abhorrent. obsidian footprints bleed into sweaty handprints. you'd think a game of twister went down if you didn't know any better.

"oh shit." you frown, stepping onto solid ground for the first time in half an hour.

guilt gnaws away at you at the thought of toji's hard work going to waste. this was his only form of income after all.

"hey, not a problem." he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"s' nothing some scrubbing can't fix, right?" you nod, lifting your arms to let him redress you.

navy coveralls zip back into place, covering the mess of hickeys you left on his chest.

you finally button up your jeans, frowning at a murky streak of oil across one of the legs.

"must've tossed those on the ground when I took em' off of you." he chuckles, dodging a swat from you.

You pad into the lobby first, blissfully unaware of a very disturbed sugaru sitting at the front desk.

your husband follows soon after, watching you walk into the parking lot.

“see ya, man.” the mechanic says plainly, shooting his apprentice a smug wave with a laugh.

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thesightstoshowyou · 5 months

Text

Makin’ Friends

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A truck stop bathroom is about to see more action than it has in years.

Warnings: Nonconsensual touching, brat taming, use of “Daddy,” slapping, excessive dirty talk, descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of drug effects, dubious consent, degradation, biting, facial

Fat drops of crimson drip and splatter onto broken tile and dingy, cracked porcelain. Trembling fingers rifle through supplies, bottle caps and ammo clacking as they are shoved aside. Gritted teeth grip hold of gauze wrapping and tear.

Smashing the dressing over your oozing gut forces a grunt up and out of your throat. The bullet in your belly burns where it sits nestled between innards. Your leg burns too—a graze—but it will have to wait. Vitals first.

You spit out a curse and frantically upend your bag. Provisions and supplies tumble into the sink and crash to the ground, but your concern is elsewhere. Against your palm, the dressing grows warm and sticky faster than you can replace it. If you don’t find this fucking Stimpak soon you’re gonna pass out. You can almost hear the Radroaches excitedly clicking their disgusting mandibles in anticipation of their next meal.

A pane of glass from the broken bathroom mirror smashes onto the worn countertop and you jolt, your frayed nerves making you skittish as a cottontail. Your gaze momentarily raises to your haggard reflection. Sweat beads along your brow and sticks your hair to your skin. Chapped lips press into a thin, anxious line when you see how much color has drained out of your face, the effects of blood loss startlingly visible.

Where in the fuck is that god damned—

Movement in the mirror, behind you. Breath sticking in your throat, you whirl around, boots slipping in the gore that has pooled at your feet. Your free hand grips the countertop to keep you upright as your eyes meet the gnarled, grinning face of the last thing you want to see in your current state.

Where’s your gun—your eyes flick to the right—shit, you set it on the back of that busted toilet—

“The fuck are you doing here, ghoul?” Your question drips with condescension, bravado your only available weapon.

The Ghoul shoulders the doorframe as one gloves hand comes to rest against the bandolier across his chest. “Shoulda known it was you making all that racket back in town. Did ya’ bite off a bit more than ya’ could chew, darlin’?”

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so lightheaded. “Bounty had some unexpected friends,” you comment. It would be nonchalant if not for the white-knuckled grip you have on the countertop.

A wry chuckle, then, “Friends, huh? Now that’s somethin’ you’re painfully short on, ain’t it?” The toe of his boot playfully taps at some debris on the floor. “Think it’s cuz of that winnin’ personality a’ yours?”

Your knees shake, your shoulder aching from keeping you upright. “You’re one to talk. I don’t see your entourage anywh—

Your words die on your tongue when you finally focus on what the Ghoul rolls under the heel of his boot. What you thought was a chunk of tile is actually the thing for which you’ve been searching so feverishly: The fucking Stimpak.

The Ghoul’s brows raise in feigned surprise when he spots you staring at the floor. “Oh, this what ya’ been lookin’ for?” Keeping his gaze on yours, he leisurely crouches and retrieves the coveted little vial before standing to his full height once more.

Your stomach plummets. You can’t stop the way your chest heaves, your body desperate to pump oxygen into your slowly dwindling blood supply. Agony pulses in nauseating waves through your belly, your jaw clenching to keep your weakness hidden. But who are you kidding?

You’re not stupid. You know this Ghoul has no qualms about splattering your brains all over the broken mirror behind you. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it already. No, he must be here for something else.

“What do you want?” you mutter, the words shaking as they leave your lips. Yellow teeth peek from between tattered lips as the Ghoul smirks. He pushes away from the door and steps toward you, boots crunching on shattered tile and glass and refuse with each unhurried step.

You stumble back, his advance pressuring you against the counter behind you, but he doesn’t stop until he’s mere inches away, until the scents of ozone and gunpowder and worn leather sting your nose. Instinct takes over and you lash out, fingers intent on his eyes, but he catches your weak jab with embarrassing ease. The Ghoul snatches your other limb for good measure and gathers up both of your wrists in one, gloved hand.

Your lips pull back over your teeth in a snarl, but it’s useless. You’re caught, caged in by his body and the sink digging into your ass. And now, with no pressure over the wound in your gut, blood freely leaks down your front to soak the both of you.

The Ghoul hums thoughtfully. “Kitty’s been declawed.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, but it sounds more like a whine than an insult. Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision. You’re about to black out—

“Ah, now, is that how you ask nice for somethin’?” He brings the Stimpak into your line of site and dangles it there, taunting you. You give him the nastiest glare you can muster, but your anger seeps out of you with your blood. Animal panic takes its place.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he leans down, his face so close to yours you feel the heat of his breath as he murmurs, “Go on now. What’s the magic word?”

Tremulous breaths spill from your nose as you clamp your mouth shut. Pride is going to be the death of you. Would you really rather die than give him whatever the hell it is he wants?

Thickly, you swallow and whisper, “…please.”

The Ghoul tilts his head, “What was that, sweetheart? Couldn’t make it out—

“PLEASE-“ you bite your tongue, suck in a breath, “Please, I…help me.” A low chortle greets your words, then stabbing pain as a needle plunges into your abdomen. You grunt and hiss as the drugs burn their way through tissue to jumpstart the healing process. Pain killers douse the anguish like water over a fire and you slump in relief, forehead dropping to a sturdy shoulder.

The empty syringe clatters when it’s tossed onto the counter. Gloved fingers find your hair and grip hard to tip your head back. You wince and blink in an effort to come back to yourself, opiates and stimulants and steroids and whatever else was in that vial at war with your consciousness as they repair your shredded guts.

“There now. All better. I believe a ‘Thank you,’ is in order,” the Ghoul drawls. You’re still so weak, desperately in need of rest and hydration, but the drugs have rekindled the embers of rage.

“I’m not telling you a god damned—

WHAP

Blinding pain collides with your cheek and suddenly you’re staring at the torn ad for Cram plastered to the wall: Now with 50% more Cram! Wetness, thick and tangy like iron, drips into your mouth. Your nose…it’s bleeding. Your cheek throbs in time with your pounding heart.

He’d fucking backhanded you….

Your head is yanked back by the hand in your hair until your face is inches from the Ghoul’s once again. “If you’re gonna be an ungrateful little shit, I can just put another hole in your belly and be on my way.”

You clench your eyes shut as your teeth grind together in barely contained ire. Curses that would make a sailor blush sit at the back of your throat like bile. It’s so tempting to just spit in his face and suffer the consequences. You’re not gonna fucking saying it, you can’t….

“…thank you.”

“That’s a good girl. I knew there were some manners in there somewhere.” Pressure between your legs makes your eyes fly open, a startled yelp slipping from your mouth.

Gloved fingers rub gentle circles at the apex of your thighs. Pleasure blooms in their wake, little pulses that arc through your core and zing up your spine. You open your mouth to hurl outraged insults, but, to your horror, a little mewl escapes instead.

Your cheeks burn and you splutter, “W-What-what are you—

“Looks like them drugs are workin’, huh?” The deep purr of the Ghoul’s voice rumbles against your chest and you squeak, goosebumps raising across your flesh. Fruitlessly, you tug against his iron grip on your wrists, but even just that consistent pressure makes you shiver.

You have got to be kidding….

The fingers massaging your cunt through your pants push right where you want them most and your lips part in a sharp gasp. It’s like your hips have a mind of your own as they tilt to increase the friction. The muscles of your thighs quiver in an effort to keep you from completely humping his hand.

Angry tears—anger? Is that what you’re feeling?—prick at the corners of your eyes as you look up into the Ghoul’s face. He smirks down at you, his eyes alight with mirth and hunger. Just that simple look he gives you makes your throat go dry.

“Feels good, huh?” You suck in an irritated breath through your teeth when he pulls his hand away. Yellowing teeth catch a fingertip of his glove, his bare fingers sliding free. “Good girls get to feel good. Simple as that. Now open up.”

Digits press insistently at your lips. Against your ribs, your heart pounds, the needy pulse between your legs matching its rhythm. It’s infuriating how badly you want him to touch you again….

A defeated groan sounds in the back of your throat when your mouth pops open. Fingertips tease your front teeth as the Ghoul murmurs, his words dark and deliberate, “I think ya’ know what’ll happen if ya’ bite me.”

You shoot him a withering look that says, ‘You must think I’m an idiot.’ He raises a brow in response. ‘I ain’t taking any chances with you.’ You let your tongue unfurl from your mouth for good measure.

Two fingers slide past your teeth and plunge deep into your mouth to test your gag reflex. “Suck,” the Ghoul orders. You only hesitate a moment before you close your lips around his digits and hollow out your cheeks. Still, that disobedient part of you can’t help but tease your teeth against his nails when he pulls the wetted fingers from your mouth.

“Seems like you’re wantin’ another slap,” he grumbles before shoving his hand down the front of your pants. Whatever clever quip you had prepared morphs into garbled nonsense when he locates your aching clit and strokes it with calloused fingertips.

You don’t realize the extent of your desire until he dips into the remarkable slickness of your folds. “Appears we didn’t need your mouth,” the Ghoul jokes. You would respond with something scathing if you could think of anything to say, but the mind-numbing shocks of pleasure rippling through your belly are making it difficult to speak.

“Turned ya’ into Daddy’s little brain dead whore in no time, didn’t I?” Your cheeks blaze and you choke on an indignant sound.

“I-I-you can’t just—fuck—

“S’alright. You can say it. Ain’t nobody else here to see you debasing yourself.” You whimper and shake your head, but your traitorous body rolls your hips into his stupid hand despite yourself.

Hot breath ghosts across your ear. “Say it and I’ll fuck that wet little hole. Just four simple words is all: ‘Please fuck me, Daddy.’”

“N-Not, I’m not—

“You know as well as I do that needy cunt’s beggin’ to be filled.” As he speaks, fingers circle your entrance for emphasis. You feel your resolve crumbling away beneath your curled toes.

But—christ—a ghoul? And a mean sonofabitch ghoul with the filthiest fucking mouth at that…. A ghoul that has you leaking like a broken pipe….

“…p-please—god dammit—please fuck me…Daddy.” Your face has to be on fire.

No sooner do the words leave your lips than you are twirled around. The room whirls like a top, your palms slipping in the blood still dripping off the countertop when you try to steady yourself. Only the hand in your hair keeps you from smashing your chin on ancient porcelain.

The Ghoul ruts against your ass while his free hand works his pants open. Your mouth snaps shut, your teeth clacking together to stop the groan when you feel his hard length dragging against your clothed flesh. Your skin tingles, your cunt soaking through your underwear in anticipation.

Dizzy from the drugs surging through your thin blood and the maddening want, you watch in the broken mirror as the Ghoul grasps the waistband of your pants to shove them down to your knees. Hot, gnarled skin slides along your slit, teasing, until you whine and wiggle your hips.

He meets your hazy gaze in the mirror, a smug sneer tugging at the corners of his lips. You huff and open your mouth to lash out, but the thick head of his cock breeches your entrance and turns the retort into a slurred, “Ffffuck!”

Hips surge forward to bury all that rough girth into slippery muscles that haven’t been used in god knows how long. Your eyes grow wide as saucers, your jaw locked in a silent scream, the air forced from of your lungs by the intrusion. Your walls spasm and clench in an effort to accommodate the stretch.

Behind you, a strained groan, long and low. “Tighter than I thought you’d be.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’d say it if you could figure out how to do anything other than moan.

The Ghoul’s scarred fingers dig into your locks, adjusting his grip so he can pull you back into his sharp thrust. The wanton noise you make has you wishing you’d bled out, but it’s not long before complex thought is wiped from your brain to be replaced with a mantra of ‘more, more, more.’

Wet slapping, the jingling of a belt buckle, rustling of a shredded duster, harsh grunts, and high, girlish cries fill the dilapidated bathroom as the Ghoul pummels you into the countertop. Your guts now ache for a different reason, assaulted from pleasure so taut and intense it borders on agony. You feel each frenzied stroke in the top of your skull all the way to the tips of your toes.

Warmth envelops your back as the Ghoul leans over you, the pistoning of his hips never faltering. Again, his lips find your ear, that voice like smooth bourbon filling your fuzzy head when he asks, “Is that pretty pussy about to cum on my cock?”

Resistance leaves you in a breathy keen. All the fight has been fucked out of you. Submission comes as an eager nod and a tiny, pathetic, “Please, Daddy.”

He gives a low growl in response, one you feel vibrating against your back. Fingers hook in the collar of your shirt and wrench it to the side. Bared teeth find the place where your neck meets your shoulder and sink into smooth flesh so hard you’re sure they’ll come away red.

You cum with a strangled scream, that pressurized ball of need rapidly unraveling in your belly. Slick walls squeeze, clinging tight to the girth battering them. Your eyes roll back, your shriek of euphoria reverberating off the low ceiling. Against your shoulder is a muffled rumble, then the absence of heat at your back.

Your head spins when you’re flipped around and shoved to the floor. A pained cry leaves your lips when your knees crack on filthy tile. Your head is jerked back, neck tendons popping with the force, while Ghoul’s other hand furiously pumps his drenched cock.

Your brain catches up with the situation just as he utters a pinched, “Fuck!” Eyelids snap shut a second before sticky warmth splatters across your face. The dose of radiation you’ll receive if any of that drips into your mouth…. You clench your jaw, lips pressed tight together.

Panting, trembling, skin buzzing like a thousand bees, you hastily wipe your face on your sleeve. Timidly, you peek up at the Ghoul looming over you. One hand still holds your hair, the other already readjusting his belt.

“That’s a good look for you, sweetheart.” All you can manage is an irritated nose scrunch. You’re too exhausted to bite, weariness settling deep in sore muscles. Rest and water are now your priority; that, and getting rid of the fingers still digging into your scalp.

Your stomach flips when he chuckles. “That’s cute.”

“What now?” you snap, the harshness of your tone lessened when your voice cracks.

“You think you’re done, dontcha?” Your breath catches in your dry throat. He can’t be serious.

“Hey, no, c’mon—

Your hands fly to his wrist when the Ghoul tugs you to your feet by your hair. You curse and stagger like you’ve forgotten how to walk, your knees seconds away from buckling.

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Night’s still young.”

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