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bennysblabbering · 3 months ago

Text

Bonding with the King

Kinktober: "Double Penetration" || Ryomen Sukuna x reader

contents: heian Sukuna, curseuser!reader, vaginal & anal fingering, vaginal & anal penetration, multiple cocks, large insertion, creampie, excessive cum, slight cum inflation

words: 3k

g/n afab reader

↓ Fic below the cut ↓

The great King of Curses sits atop a lavish and elegant altar, his enormous figure sitting leisurely on one leg and elbow and looking as intimidating as ever. The raised floor was adorned with a soft cotton mat and decorated with a number of gold and red pillows, a scarlet satin sheet lazily draped over his thighs. Upon your entrance into the extravagant room, he beckons you over with one hand, his expression remaining flat. The deep tone of his voice fills the space despite the distance between you.

“Come.”

You nod and bow, slowly making your way to him- the subject of everything you fight for and devote yourself to. You’d never interacted one on one, but you made the choice of your path in life; that being a curse user, making it your life goal to see a world of anarchy ruled by the Disgraced One himself. Standing before him, you choose to look at your feet instead of the man in front of you- testing Ryomen Sukuna was not on your list of things you’d like to try. He huffs, amused at your behavior. Normally, and especially during battle, you were much more assertive and loud-mouthed; the person he saw before him was not the usual one he was used to.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

Your face raises to observe the face of the monarch. You’d seen your superior many times before, but not this close. He was absolutely breathtaking. Your eyes drink in his appearance; rose-colored locks, four intense ruby eyes, a wide and masculine figure with four muscular arms, and his entire body adorned in intricate black rings and lines that added to his beauty in the way that spices enhance the flavor of a meal.

The sheet is lifted by a large arm as he smiles, his eyelids lowering flirtily. “Join me.”

As the lower half of his body is revealed, you take notice of the two distinct bulges protruding from his pants in the spot between his legs. Two…..two.

You gulp and nod, feeling your body weaken at the sight. You were unsure why he’d called for you, but it seemed like he may have had some erotic plans in mind. You hadn’t particularly noticed him taking any interest in you before, but perhaps he had been hiding it well or you had been too oblivious. Or maybe you’re overthinking it.

Sneaking yourself meekly under the blanket, you lay next to him. Your arms and legs tense anxiously as you tenderly place your palms against his chest, almost scared to touch him, as if he were made of eggshells. The warmth radiating off of his body had a simultaneously comforting and arousing affect, making both the inside and outside of your body increase in temperature. His chest was impressive in size, and softer than you’d imagined. You didn’t even realize you’d been squeezing a little until he chuckles. “Enjoying yourself?”

You respond with a soft yelp. His muscles were so plush and warm under your touch, and you can’t believe you let yourself get lost in that feeling. You internally curse at yourself for your lack of awareness as you draw your hands away, clutching them close to your body. “I-I’m sorry, Sukuna-sama. I didn’t realize I’d gotten a bit carried away.”

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. If I didn’t want you touching me, I wouldn’t have brought you here.” His eyes narrow, looking at you hungrily as two of his hands reach for yours and bring them back to where they used to be. A light blush creeps onto your cheeks as they feel the flesh of the other under their touch once more.

Now a bit more settled in and comfortable, you sigh and slowly start to release the anxious tension in your body. Being in the presence of a man so much larger, warmer, and stronger than you was not only oddly comforting, but…it made you crave him. His attention, his touch, his….

Your lower leg brushes against the hard protrusions you’d noticed before, and you quickly remove your limb, mortified, yet incredibly aroused at the sheer size of them. They had to be at least 9 inches if you had to estimate. You hear him hum, and you look back up into his intense eyes as he smirks.

“I enjoy your company, Y/N. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you for a while.”

Moving a hand down to your waist, he starts to stroke up and down your body, ghosting over your chest and back down your side, giving your ass a squeeze. “I’m going to be transparent with you, Y/N. I desire you carnally. I’d like to take you right here and now.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your eye contact fails to waver, your heart and body leaping at the thought of being fucked by the king of curses…especially if he really does have two. You nod with a shaky exhale, feeling complete and utter exhilaration. “Y-yes sir. Anything for you.”

The giant man growls in satisfaction, content with your answer. He moves in to place his flushed lips on yours, your faces meeting sensually in a way you’d only ever fantasized about until this moment. His large fingers sneak under your robe, finding their way to your clothed cunt, and you whimper into his mouth as you instinctually buck your hips into his touch. Even his fingers were huge, probably ⅔ of the size of a standard cock; you knew you’d have to start with those and work your way up if you wanted to take him properly.

You mumble against his lips, your speech coming out shaky and whiny. “W-would you like me to take my clothes off, sir?”

He pulls back just slightly, your faces only millimeters apart as a malicious grin spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat, a wave of fear and arousal instilled into your core from his intense expression.

“No need.”

He immediately rolls you onto your back, using the upper two hands to pin your wrists above your head while the lower two effortlessly rip the fabric off of your body. The layers are removed from you without mercy; as to be expected from such a powerful entity, he takes what he wants when he wants it, and will stop at nothing to obtain what he desires. In this case, what he desires is you.

You gasp as the cool air hits your exposed skin, your entire naked body now presented to the man above you. A low rumble escapes his throat as he shamelessly takes in your figure with his eyes, feeling his cocks twitch at the sight of the subordinate he’s craved for so long finally disrobed before him. The way you were displayed was tantalizing like a well-prepared cut of meat, and he planned to indulge himself just as he would when satiating his gargantuan appetite.

“My, my, what a sight to behold.” He takes one hand off of one of your wrists, using the other hand to hold them together in one. The fact that both of your wrists could be held together by one huge hand of his made your core clench in excitement. Using his lower two hands, he spreads your thighs apart, the one free hand exploring your body by palming your chest and torso, pinching a nipple and smirking in satisfaction when you yelp.

Sukuna uses a single fingertip to swipe up and down your folds, humming as he finds how wet you already are so pleasing. You gasp softly at the touch, your back arching off of the mattress from the exhilaration of his touch.

“How eager. Adorable.”

He strokes your pussy a few more times, gathering slick on his finger before he inserts it into your entrance. You gasp dramatically from the satisfying stretch from his digit and moan as he slides it in all the way to the knuckle. Ever so slowly he slips it in and out of you, twisting his finger just slightly and curling inward on each thrust. You cry out in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spongy sweet spot, making you dizzy. “Ohhhh my god, Sukuna-sama…you feel so good…”

“Oh, you think that feels good? Just you wait, it’ll only get better from here.”

He pulls his wet finger out of your pussy with a soft ‘pop’, pressing the generously lubricated digit against the hole below while looking up at you to test your reaction. You let out a whimper, nervous at the new sensation- you’d never had anything inside your ass before, and had no clue what it would feel like. You gulp and nod, trusting him with the new experience.

He starts to push in and it burns, but you can’t deny it feels incredible. It was completely unlike anything you’d experienced before, and it made you all the more excited to feel what would inevitably be coming next. You squeeze your eyes shut and wince, taking in a breath with a hiss as he starts to push deeper, inch by inch, until his entire finger is nestled inside of you. “Fuck…”

He lets out a low chuckle, resting his thick digit for a moment to let your hole accommodate. Letting go of your wrists with his other hand, he drags the fingertips down your torso before rubbing your clit with a thumb and inserting the middle finger into your neglected pussy. Your whole body writhes in pleasure as all of your sensitive spots are being paid attention to by his skillful hands. You squeeze and rub at your own nipples, adding to the stimulation, and your mind starts to slip into an aroused haze as he starts up a quicker pace with both fingers.

“How do my fingers feel? This is only a fraction of what’s to come. I want to prepare you properly for penetration.”

Your jaw hangs open as whine after whine escapes your throat. Struggling to find words, your response comes out weak and stuttered.

“Feels…so g-good...Su…Suk-kuna-sama. I’m…r-ready…for more…p-please…”

A low groan rumbles from the large man. “I was going to add a second finger to each hole, but since you sound so eager, you’re really making me aroused. And now I can’t wait any longer.”

He pulls his fingers away and sits back onto his knees, pushing the waistband of his pants down. What’s revealed is exactly what you’d predicted- two absolutely gigantic erections, thicker and longer than any cock you’d ever seen. They each had a ring marking about 4 inches from the base, and were visibly throbbing from his pulse, twitching with each heartbeat. He had one set of balls, though they were just as gigantic in size to match; about as large as one would expect for a body part responsible to create enough testosterone for 3 men. You want to look him in the eyes to see what his expression looks like, but you can’t pry your gaze away from his perfect and rock hard pair of manhoods.

Pinning you down by the shoulders this time, he lays on top of you. You didn’t need to look far to see his expression this time- your faces were almost touching, his carmine gaze locking with yours, a pure horniness emanating from the aura. The King of Curses was starving to satiate his cocks, and you were going to be his victim of choice. He presses his lips to yours once again, roughly shoving his tongue into your mouth. You meekly whimper, muffled by the connected orifices, as your faces meet and saliva messily spreads across the bottom half of your face.

He pulls away from the kiss and sits up slightly to look down and line one cock up with each hole- the top one in your cunt and the bottom one in your ass. With a possessive growl, he holds your hips and pushes in slowly as your eyes widen and jaw opens as far as it can go. In this moment, you could have sworn your eyes would pop out of their sockets. As huge as his cocks looked, they felt even bigger. You were almost literally being split open as both of your holes were stretched further than they ever had been.

Sukuna gently presses a warm hand to the center of your chest, helping to relax your body and feel more comfortable under his touch. Two other hands massage your shoulders. “Breathe, Y/N. If you tense, it’s only going to hurt more. Undo the tension in your body and the penetration will be much easier.”

You close your eyes and nod, taking a deep breath and trying your best to let go of the tightness in your spine as he slips in a few inches more. The pain of the stretch was starting to subside, turning into pleasure as you let out a soft sigh. He clearly wasn’t as far as he could go yet, but you already were enjoying being fuller than any man had ever made you feel before.

The huge man leans forward and on top of you- the sheer size of his hips between your legs making them spread wide open; as your bodies become parallel, your ankles are in the air, your body completely helpless underneath the giant. He finally settles in with one last push, now inside you as far as possible. He was at least up to your belly button, if not a bit more. A long, satisfied groan leaves his lips. “Do you feel good being stuffed by my cocks? You like being stretched and filled just right by the one you serve?”

You can only nod in response- any sense of coherent thought left your body as soon as you felt him inside you. You can still feel his pulse throbbing in his members even when inside you, and the feeling of it makes you whine. Feeling so small underneath him and completely as his mercy felt exhilaratingly thrilling, as if you were his toy made to satiate his needs.

Growing impatient, he starts to thrust, much quicker than you’d anticipated for him to start at. The unexpected intensity filled you with pure pleasure, rolling your eyes back so far it hurt as you desperately wrap your arms around his neck and claw at his muscular back. In and out his thick cocks mercilessly bullied your insides, claiming you as his own as you could only lay on your back and helplessly take it.

Tiny, high-pitched whimpers were all your body could manage for vocalizations, feeling such incredible bliss your mind was completely blank. Your pussy had never experienced sex like this before, and your ass had never experienced attention or penetration of any kind previous to this. Your mind and body were lost in the new sensations, completely overtaken by felicity as Sukuna’s lengths pounded into you with a vigor only known to him.

“You are mine Y/N, understand? From today onward, I will be the only man to bed you. Your holes are for my cocks and my cocks only.”

The large tongue on his abdomen protrudes from its lips, bending downward to flick against your clit as he continues to mercilessly rail into you. You cry out with a loud moan, the obscene sound filling not only the room, but would be sure to pass through the walls and let everyone in the building know what you two were up to. You look down at where your bodies were connected, not only noticing the oral muscle, but your stomach was bulging from the pure size of Sukuna’s cocks. Up and down the flesh of your stomach moved, in tandem with his thrusts.

“Y…yes, s-sir…o-only….you…”

His stomach tongue presses and flicks against your bud harder, and your climax hits you quickly, crashing over you with a violent wave as your body tenses from the white hot euphoria. Your fingers dig into the skin of his back, which would have drawn blood had it been a normal man you were with. He continues to pound into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm as it overtakes your body.

As you slowly start to come down, his own hips stutter and he groans, pressing into you as hard as he can as he fills you with his release. His hands grip onto your hips for dear life, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, sure to bruise. The sheer volume of his load is several times that of an average one as he spills his seed into your holes over and over. The hot fluid begins to drip out of you and yet his climax is still going strong, making the bulge in your stomach slightly larger from the voluminous amount of cum.

“Mine….mine….you’re mine…”

After an unexpectedly long amount of time, he finally comes down from his own high. His hands remain on your hips but release the aggressive claw-like hold as he starts to catch his breath and grins. He slowly pulls his softening cocks out of you, some of his excessive release leaking from your abused holes in a sticky, warm mess as it mixes with your own fluid.

He moves to lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around you as you can feel your eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He looks down to see your sleepy face, chuckling as he strokes your thigh.

“That was very satisfying, Y/N. I enjoyed that quite a bit. Get as much sleep as you’d like. I will have Uraume fetch you some new clothes and a cup of tea.”

You nod and hum contentedly, snuggling up to his warm chest and sighing. You’d never felt this satisfied before, and you could only think about what it’ll feel like again. Having sex with the man you idolized was going to get used to, but you looked forward to the next time. There was certainly much more with him that you could explore together.

For now, you would get some much-needed sleep.

430 notes · View notes

toruro · 2 years ago

Text

— ✧ to the brim

pairing. kim mingyu x reader

description. all your sweet husband wants is to put a baby into you—is that so bad?

↳ tags. smut (18+), breeding kink, husband!mingyu, filthy honestly

w/c. 2.9k

a/n. request .. i couldnt hold back

you shut your eyes tight, squirming against the soft linen sheets as your husband holds you down. mingyu’s thick, strong arm latches onto your hips, pushing them back down whenever you dig your heels into the mattress and lift them up.

his tongue is lapping at your cunt, the lower half of his face slowly turning into a slobbering, dripping mess. “gyu,” you cry out, as he brings up a single finger and plunges it into your gummy walls, rubbing against them relentlessly and moves his mouth to your clit.

this is mingyu’s treat, as he put it five minutes earlier when you rolled on top of him this morning. you’d spent a few peaceful minutes laying on his sheet as he stroked his fingers through your hair as you drowsily murmured something about enjoying this weekend. of course, mingyu being the loving, caring, giving husband that he is, he offered to go down on you to make sure your day started off a little extra sweet.

now, as mingyu promised, you’re on the verge of your likely first of many orgasms for the next two days, nearly having to grab a pillow to cover your mouth so you don’t get a noise complaint from your neighbors.

reaching down to pull his hair, mingyu moans against your core when you tug at the thick brown locks, the vibrations building up that knot that he’s been so carefully tying. he’s looking you right in the eyes and the way his eyelids are half closed, almost as if he’s enjoying this as much as you (he probably is), has that knot being pulled so tight that you can’t help but let tears prick at corner of your eyes when it finally snaps.

mingyu fucks his fingers into you so fast it has you seeing stars as you ride out your orgasm, his demanding grip on your waist finally being release so you can swivel your hips to meet the movements of his hands. coming down with cries of his name and heavy pants, mingyu finally frees your overstimulated cunt of his ministrations, not breaking his gaze on you.

“you liked that?” he asks jokingly, peeling himself away from your wet thighs, glistening chin on display under the morning glow. rolling your eyes as you finally catch your breath, you let your hiked up knees fall to the bed as mingyu crawls up to you, pressing a messy kiss on your lips.

wincing slightly at the feeling of your own wetness against your cheeks, you push his face away gently. “of course i liked that,” you mumble, face burning.

mingyu chuckles, rolling over and laying in his back next to you, legs intertwined with yours. “just making sure angel,” he replies, bringing up a finger to wipe away some of the wetness from his lips, watching you as you shimmy your panties back on. he pouts when he realizes you’re getting up, fisting and unfisting his hand as he reaches out for you in a grabbing motion. “want more, angel.”

you consider going along with whatever plans mingyu has, and although you are quite turned on, you also feel the need to be a little productive. “i thought this was my treat, was it not?” you retort, swinging your legs over the bed and standing up, making your way out the door.

mingyu huffs at your response, “you’re lame,” throwing his head back. he kicks his legs around in the bed with a faux tantrum, rolling over to your side—he insists it’s warmer—and reaches for your phone. “hey babe, what’s your password again?” he calls out to you in a teasing tone when you’re at the bedroom door.

“mingyu there’s no way you just asked me that,” you sigh, knowing where this is going. he looks up at you with a smug grin as he holds your phone in the air.

“i know,” he says smugly, ”i just want to hear you say it.”

warmth permeates your body at his honesty, and you ears burn as you turn away, embarrassed. “it’s your birthday…”

“aww, really?” he coos as if you haven’t repeated this a million times.

“yes babe,” you mumble, walking out the door. “don’t milk it, or i’ll change it.”

mingyu gasps from the bed. “you would never,” he yells in disbelief.

“would so!” you yell back, grinning to yourself knowing that it’s a damn lie. “what are you doing on my phone anyways?” you ask curiously from the kitchen.

“‘m checking your calendar,” he replies, and from the open door you can see him scrolling through what you can only assume is your period app. you, once again, have an idea of where this is going to go, except this time you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to control yourself—not with the way you instinctively press your thighs together as you remember that it’s that time of month.

no, not that time of month—the other time of month.

you don’t even have time to think about what you’re going to make for breakfast because mingyu is thudding down the hallway and circling his large hand around your wrist and dragging you back to the bedroom. you can’t even find it in you to protest at this point, the familiar pooling of heat at the base of your stomach reinforcing the fact that you want—no, need—this as much as him.

you stumble over your steps but mingyu’s grip on you is tight and steady and before you know it he has you in the air and thrown onto the mattress. “you’re already prepped right angel?” mingyu confirms as he pushes his boxers down before clambering on top of you, resting himself between your legs.

“i dunno,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him down into a fierce kiss. “you kind of did eat me out like five minutes ago, did you forget?”

“how could i?” mingyu grins, tugging at the hem of your (his) shirt as a signal to take it off. “you look so hot when you cum,” he adds, “wish i could take a picture and make it my wallpaper or something.” he yanks down your soiled panties once more, making it a personal goal for himself to make sure you don’t get the chance to put them back on this morning.

“you already have pictures,” you remind him, slipping off mingyu’s shirt from your body, falling back onto the sheets as he stares down at you, his painfully hard length pressing into your thigh.

“yeah but they aren’t my wallpaper,” mingyu whines, flicking your clit once and chuckling at the way your body jerks.

“maybe because i don’t want—i don’t know—dokyeom to see me naked every time you open your phone.”

“ugh, you’re right—i hate sharing,” he agrees, nudging his tip against your folds. “you ready angel?”

"uh-huh," you murmur, lifting your hips slightly so he can line himself up with your hole. his bulbous tip hardly pushes in an inch before you're whining out his name and pushing the side of your face into the mattress from the stretch.

not even years with mingyu can prepare you for the way his cock is always so thick and long—the initial stretch is always a challenge, but the sensation of being split in two by your one and only husband has become one that you cherish.

"fuck," mingyu grunts, letting his had fall to your shoulder as he eases his cock into your cunt. "you're fucking sucking me in babe," he continues as he finally bottoms out. pressing kissing onto your skin, you dig your nails into mingyu's back as he allows you to adjust.

when you start to involuntarily rock your hips into his, mingyu takes this as his chance to take control, pressing his arms into your pelvis to still your movements. looking up at him with confusion, his only response is a smirk as he roughly snaps his hips back, the harsh drag of his cock making your vision go hazy and your mind go dizzy. without warning, he ruts back into you, and he feels so close that you nearly feel his cock pulsing inside of your cunt.

the sound of your soaked pussy and mingyu's cock colliding echos through the room, a wet puddle forming beneath the area you connect. your body shakes on the mattress with every thrust, his hips sending you in a back and forth motion as you reach for his hand to stabilize yourself.

"fuck, how are you always this tight?" he moans, slick from your cunt running down his thigh as he angles himself higher above you.

"f-feels so good gyu," you manage to gasp, your legs weakening, their grip on his hips growing loose. "baby, your shoulders—fuck—ca-can you—can i—" you beg incandescently, not making much sense but it seems mingyu understands the message as he slows down his movements.

"god yes." grabbing your legs, he pushes them up so that your knees are pressing against your chest. you secure them in their spot by wrapping your hands under your knees, but the position doesn't last for long before mingyu throws each leg over his shoulder so your ankles touch behind his neck. mingyu latches his arms over your legs that are now pressed against his chest, before pulling his hips back and ramming back into you.

the sound of skin slapping against skin rings in your ears and with every batter of his cock against that one spot in your cunt, you feel closer and closer to white, hot release. you grapple at the sheets around you, not being able to hold your husband's hands, and squirm at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you.

"you close gyu? 'm close," you moan.

"yeah—shit—i can tell babe, you're squeezing me so tight, so good. gonna milk me dry angel?" he grunts, pressing down further so you're nearly bent in half.

"i wanna," you babble mindlessly, "wanna cum with you—wanna have your cum gyu—"

even in your hazy state, you catch the way mingyu's eyes darken at your words. "fuck say that again," he orders.

"want your cum!" you cry out, feeling the hot coil in your stomach grow close to it's end. "fill me up gyu, 'm so close, 'm ready—please, please, please, gimme your cum gyu, please." your words are going through mingyu's ears and straight down to his cock and then he's slamming into you so hard you think you might fall off the face of the earth.

"fucking perfect pussy, 'm gonna fill you up, fill you up so good your tummy's gonna be all swollen with my baby," mingyu moans with thick spurts of his seed shooting through you, marking your cunt as his. the feeling has your back arching off the mattress, legs shaking over his shoulders as you shriek his name. "you like that?"

"mingyu—shit! love it, love your cum, love you!" you whine as pleasure slams through your body, legs giving out from the tension so they fall by mingyu's side so he can continue fucking into you despite his own overstimulation.

he watches the way you twitch at every movement, looking down at the part when his cock kisses your pussy, adoring the way he's able to fuck all his dripping seed back into you, muttering to himself about how he's gotta "make sure you don't waste a drop."

within a few moments you're both intertwined as an overstimulated mess, mingyu finally stilling inside of you as you pant for breath. "think it worked?" he murmurs, and you lift your head to look down at your core.

"it'd better," you reply, letting mingyu lean down to kiss you. then, against his lips, you continue, "we fucked up the sheets for this." you shift a little and then you feel the cool wet spot that has formed, cringing at how you already have to change the sheets.

"mm, we can just make use of the space…you know, since it's already so messy," mingyu suggest, pulling away from your lips and now that he's not kissing you, you're hyper aware of the way he's growing hard inside of you.

"mingyu—"

"c'mon angel, you know you want to. need to see you brimming with my cum," he eggs you on, grabbing your waist and turning you over on your stomach while he's still inside of you. you feel the stretch from inside of your pussy return, and mingyu's words are doing nothing but filthy things to you because you feel yourself growing warmer at the thought of his cum seeping out of you.

"please," you squeak out when he forcefully yanks your hips up so your ass is in the air, lined up with mingyu's pelvis.

"so needy," mingyu chuckles, pulling his length out halfway, placing a hand on your ass to steady himself. your whole core is covered in wetness, a mix of his saliva from earlier when he went down on you, his cum, and your own wetness. the sticky mixture coats both of your bodies now, and mingyu can't help but spiral at the idea that after this, you're going to be filled with even more of his cum.

he snaps his hips so his cock slamming back into you with such sheer force that you lurch forward, the only thing holding you in your spot being mingyu's grip on your lower half. "bet you wanted this—fuck—" he mutters out, each word punctuated with increasingly sharp thrusts, "—from the moment you woke up. wanted to be fucked raw. wanted me to dump my cum inside of your perfect fucking pussy."

"yes!" you agree without a thought to your head, arms giving out so your face is pressing into the mattress now. your moans are a bit muffled and mingyu is slightly annoyed that he can't hear you to your fullest, releasing his irritation by plunging his cock into your gaping cunt harder and harder, which has you crying out louder and louder.

"holy fuck, you're so tight—are you gonna cum already?" mingyu groans as you arch your back and push your ass back to meet his thrusts, chasing your third orgasm of the day.

"s-sorry gyu—it feels s-so so good," you blabber, tears springing at your eyes as a sob rips at your throat. you're so close already, your core squeezing and twitching uncontrollably at the immense stimulation and pleasure that's coming over you. you're tethering on to whatever last bit of self control you have as mingyu abuses your warm, wet walls with his cock.

"don't apologize angel," mingyu reminds you, but it's hard to believe him when his voice sounds so strained. you can tell he's refraining, holding himself back from letting loose and now you're mind is going blank at the thought of mingyu cumming inside you as tears begin to streak down your cheeks.

"oh my god, mingyu, 'm getting close," you warn, body growing limp as your thighs begin to cramp.

"fuck, my precious angel gonna cum on my cock? gonna make a mess?"

"yes, love your cock mingyu, love it, need it," you plead. "can i have your cum? wan' more of your cum gyu—feels so good." your vocabulary is reducing to that of a five-year olds (save for the repeated begging for mingyu's seed) and you can't help but hiccup over yourself.

"wan' my cum? fuck, i'll give you my cum—breeding you like the good fucking girl you are," mingyu spits out, jamming his cock into you with sloppy but determined thrusts. they're erratic and mindless but it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum for the third time this morning.

muffling your cries with the sheets underneath you, the way you're bawling out his name and pleading, "fill me up gyu, do it deep," has him letting go of all notions of self control.

he's cumming inside of you once more with one last thrust, murmuring, "gonna fuck a baby into you—you want that? wanna have my babies, angel?"

"yes gyu—fuck!" you moan at the feeling of his load being squirted inside of you, the hot ropes of cum seeming endless as the sensation helps you ride out the last of your orgasm.

"fuck, i've filled you to the brim," mingyu groans, looking down at the way his and your liquids cream the base of his cock and balls, the mess dripping down onto the linen. "what a mess," he mumbles to himself, more satisfied with himself than anything.

you're still slightly shaking, the past three orgasms fully catching up to you with a harsh wave of exhaustion that has your body falling forward flat onto the mattress, mingyu slipping out of you in the process. you let out a soft groan at the feeling of being empty, but have no time to dwell on the thought as mingyu flips you over again so you're lying on your back.

you're able to see the look on his face now, finally facing him, and the way his eyes sparkle down at you has your stomach tumbling in adoration. "i love you," mingyu states, eyes trailing down from your face back down to your cunt.

"i love you too," you chuckle before saying, "my eyes are up here lover boy." mingyu rolls his eyes, but doesn't peel his eyes away. "take a picture babe, it'll last longer." mingyu's eyes shoot up at that.

"can i?"

"only if you send it to me too."

a/n. hope you enjoyed! please like and reblog and let me know how u liked this c:

#kim mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt reactions #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #📝 writing

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write (any length you’d like) Remus smut where reader is just so so desperate for him and he’s such a soft Dom🫶🏻 if not please just disregard this🫶🏻

Hi, thank you for requesting! Honestly unsure if this qualifies as full smut, but I hope you like it

cw: smut mdni, dom/sub dynamic

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 688 words

You’re hovering by the door. You think you’re being quiet, but Remus can hear the floorboards creaking as you shift from foot to foot.

Reluctantly, he tears his attention from his story. “Something the matter, dove?”

Your eyes widen. As if you’d never in a million years have expected to attract his notice. Remus might roll his eyes if it weren’t so cute.

“No,” you say quickly. “Everything’s fine, just miss you.”

He gives you a small smile. “Sorry, I won’t be much longer. You know how it is, though, I can’t just stop in the middle of a chapter or I’ll have trouble getting back in the flow next time.”

“Right, I know.” You rub your lips together. “I’m not trying to rush you.”

“Just a few more minutes, honey.”

“Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence, but Remus lets it sit, sensing you have more to say.

He’s right. “Can I sit by you while you work?” your voice is tentative. “I’ll be quiet.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, course you can.”

You go eagerly to his feet, resting your cheek against his leg. “Thanks,” you mumble.

Remus manages to type with one hand so he can stroke your head while he works. He’s nearly done with his chapter when he feels movement against his thigh. He looks down. You’re nuzzling your cheek against the rough material of his pants with glazed-over eyes, teeth working into your bottom lip. He thinks he sees your thighs shifting against each other under your skirt.

“Baby.”

The word sounds dipped in honey, and yet you look up like you’re in trouble.

“Sorry,” you say, lifting your face from his leg.

“It’s alright,” he says gently. “I didn’t realize you were feeling so needy, honey. Wanna sit on my lap and keep yourself busy while I finish up?”

A smile splits your face, and Remus chuckles when you scramble up. He sets a hand on your waist as you straddle his leg, your skirt fanned out around you.

“Just take it easy, alright? I’m almost done, I’ll take care of you in a minute.”

You nod happily. “Thanks, Rem.”

“Course.”

Remus tries to focus on the story as he types, but it’s not easy. You work yourself up in record time, fingers digging into his shoulders and lips turning red and raw as your hips move under his hand. He can feel the heat of you through his pantleg.

The words are far from perfect, but it’s a relief when he finishes. You look up when his laptop shuts with a click. Your eyes brighten.

“You having fun, dove?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah?” Remus lets his voice stretch out low and sultry, reaching up to run his thumb over your bottom lip. It’s wet and swollen, pliable to his touch. Your eyelids droop and you grind your hips harder into his thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.”

You flush a pretty pink but can’t repress your smile at the praise. Remus kisses you slowly, paying special attention to that tormented bottom lip. He soothes his tongue over the bite marks you’ve made, stroking your hip from bum to waist with his hand.

“Why’re you embarrassed?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“No?” He kisses the supple skin underneath your jaw, pressing his lips to your racing pulse. “You’re blushing like mad, dove.”

You fluster, setting your hands on his face and ducking away from him. “Remus,” you whine. “You’re being mean.”

He grins, almost sheepish but not quite. “You’re right, honey, I’m sorry. You’re just too cute like this.”

“You said you’d take care of me,” you remind him. “I was good for you.”

“You were,” he agrees, bestowing a far kinder kiss to the corner of your lips. “You’re always my good girl, hm?”

You gasp as his hand slips under your skirt, fingers flattening over your panties. They’re soaked. He hooks a finger in the fabric to pull it aside, keeping his eyes on yours while he prods experimentally at your warmth.

You make a quiet whimpering sound. Remus kisses you placatingly.

“You always get what you want in the end, don’t you?”

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xoxxbilliexoxx · 1 month ago

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Friends? Just Friends?

part 2

part 1 here

When you wake up after a night that changed everything for you two, Billie lets you continue exploring what it’s like to be with a girl … ;)

y/n POV

As the sunlight peaks through the curtains I’m slowly pulled from my slumber. My eyes stay closed, allowing myself to fall in and out of a sleepy haze. The cool sheets rub against my soft legs and the breeze from the open window runs lightly along my arm. As I roll over I smile at the smell of Billie’s shampoo and perfume blending together. It’s a smell that has taken over my bed with the frequency that she shares it with me. I take a deep breath, letting it flood my senses before sighing and returning back to my thoughtless meditative state. It isn’t until I feel the brisk air hit my bare chest that I realize I’m naked. My eyes flash open as I turn to see Billie’s exposed boobs only half covered by the sheets and I am hit with the memories of last night. It all felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Now I'm remembering just how real it was as I see her bruise covered neck. I close my eyes again, smiling as I play it all back in my head. play back the feeling of her boobs in my mouth, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my pussy. As I lay still, happily reminiscing on the passion we shared, the sunrays hits my eyelids and my brain is filled with gold light. I feel the bed moving and as billie’s body pushes against mine I open my eyes, watching her lips meet my forehead before she settles back down on my chest.

“goodmorning pretty girl” I half whisper half speak, my morning voice cracking through my throat. “goodmorning lesbo” she giggles back at me. “so that was real huh? not just an amazing dream I had last night?” i flirt out, not hiding it at all. “oh no baby it was very very real, so real, in fact, that ur still very much naked” Billie states, as her hand wanders down to my core, swiping her fingers between my lips making me twitch before bringing it back up and hugging me. Her intentions weren’t to get me horny again, they were more to just tease lightly, but I don’t think she realizes just how powerful of an effect she has on me. I lay still for a while, feeling overwhelmed by the joy I’m getting from billie cuddled up on my chest, the long building tension now gone and the flirting no longer needing to be hidden. I don’t dare ask what is going on, not only because I don’t want to ruin the moment but because I truthfully don’t care right now. All I care about is the way Billie makes me feel, and the way we so naturally fell into this dynamic, like it was meant to happen exactly as it did; Like we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Her fingertips lightly stroke my arm up and down, her touch so soft that her fingers continue to lift, disconnecting and reconnecting over and over. I hum at the feeling. It’s so peaceful with her, like we've been doing this forever. “Your skin is so soft, how did I not notice this before?” I laugh at her question before answering, “I think you were scared to touch me for a while, Eilish” She's silent for a second. I can feel her cheeks moving, forming into a smile. “mmmmm well I can touch you all I want now” she finally says before moving her hand up to grab my boob, shaking her hand up and down making it move with her. She looks so amused, so happy to have me like this now, to touch me like this now. “you better quit it before you get me all horny again” I laugh, pulling her hand away. Before I let her go, she interlocks it with mine and lays them both back down. “And what would be so wrong with you being horny again?” she looks up at me as she finishes her question. When I look down to meet her glance I can’t help but giggle at the smug look on her face. “shit i’m not complaining, go ahead baby” I crack back at her, my honest tone mixing in with the laughter, making it clear she can do whatever she’d like.

Everything feels so much more real when there isn’t wine in the mix, when the moon is no longer glowing but instead the sun is filling the room, when the birds outside are chirping. Her touch moving across my lower stomach, the goosebumps forming on my skin, her lips making contact with my collarbone, it’s all so much more real. She looks up and, fuck, this eye contact feels oh so real. when our lips touch it’s more delicate than it was last night, more intimate somehow. It’s slow, like we aren’t wanting to devour each other, but instead want to learn exactly what our lips feel like against one another. The slow speed continues but the passion grows. Our lips dance between each other, finding a rhythm, making up the choreography and sticking with it. The light sounds of kissing fills the room and we stay just like this for a while. We aren’t in a rush, I don’t need sex, I need her.

My own hands grow curious of her body and my confidence builds. As Billie’s lips continue to wrap around mine and her body is still draped across me, I grab her waist and pull her up more. Our heads are now equal, I'm no longer looking down at her. Her one leg is thrown across my body and her other is snug against my side. Our lips continue to move slowly but passionately, not wanting to end this intense make out session. I can’t remember the last time I made out with someone this long without it turning into more. Men and their fucking lack of foreplay, ew. I let my hand move down to Billie’s ass and squeeze it hard, wanting more of her body immediately. Our lips are speeding up and the kiss is becoming sloppier. I feel a hunger growing from deep within me, but it’s not for my own pleasure. I suddenly feel an intense craving to touch her, to please her, to learn all the parts of her body like she did for me last night. My thoughts race around my head as we continue to let the desire build. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, all I know is I want her, I’ve wanted her forever.

I let the fervor turn to confidence as I roll us over, Billie now under me. I pull away for a second to look down at her before I smash my lips back down, not able to stay away from her. My hands roam her body fast, wanting to touch every part of her all at once. I slow myself down when I reach her boobs, squeezing and kneading them as I watch her chest begin to rise and fall more dramatically. My lips move away from her as I find my way to her neck, immediately licking from her collarbone to right under her ear, and then biting down on the same sweet spot I found last night. She’s moaning and writhing underneath me, her breathing becoming heavier as she makes it known how badly she wants to be touched, to be pleased. Seeing her like this turns me on so hard, never imagining she’d be so submissive, so willing to let someone else take control like this. In all the stories she’s told me of her crazy hookups with random girls, she’s always the one in control, even when she’s receiving. Right now though, it’s clear she’s given herself to me, surrendered to my touch and in her own world.

My mouth continues planting wet kisses across her neck and chest and she begins letting out very quiet whimpers, making it seem like I'm winding her up so much she’s about to explode. I feel her legs move under me, crossing them tightly, obviously searching for some sort of release. I move my hand to one of her thighs and pull them apart before planting my palm on her clothed center and grabbing her harshly. The long awaited contact makes her hips jolt up, forcing an even deeper pressure against her core resulting in a long, closed mouth moan. My desire continues to guide me as my hand moves under her shorts. I groan when I feel her arousal dripping down her thighs. I feel overwhelmingly turned on by how wet I’ve made her, how caught up in my touch she has become. I run my fingers between her lips, spreading around her wetness and watching her face contort in pleasure. Her eyes are closed and her hands are grabbing at her own boobs, continuing to move her body under me.

I let my index and middle finger slip up to her clit and as soon as I find it I begin wrapping tight circles around it. Billie whines louder and I put more pressure on her swollen bud, circling faster and tighter and letting my lips find their way back to her neck. “fuck y/n, yes, please yes” she moans out, begging for more of my touch. I’m caught in between wanting to suck sweetly on her neck or watch her face showing every ounce of pleasure I'm giving her. I pause my circles to run my fingers back up and down her pussy, collecting more of the wetness I’ve caused before going back up and finding her clit again. As I start to rub it again she opens her mouth, groaning loudly, no longer able to hold in her moans. “That's it baby, I wanna hear you, let me hear how good i’m making you feel” she lets out a gasp, as if she was holding her breath, and allows her sweet noises to spill from her. “god y/n yes, just like that don’t stop”

I lick up her neck again before sucking on her ear lobe, earning a loud groan and a buck of her hips. I continue to suck for a moment before releasing and whispering in her ear, “i fucking love making you feel good baby” she closes her lips tightly again, humming as I speed up my circles. Her clit is even more swollen now, making it easier for me to add pressure to my touch. Billie’s breathing speeds up, It’s clear she's drunk off my touch, hypnotized by pleasure. I feel her legs begin to shake and I salivate, knowing I'm about to make her cum. I can’t take my eyes off of her and my mouth opens before I even have time to think about what I’m saying, “cum for me billie, moan my name and cum for me” that’s all it took before she grabbed the sheets hard, back arching off the bed and the sweet sounds of her orgasm filling the room. “y/nnn fuckkkkkkkkk” she yells out as her legs shake hard with my continued stimulation “that’s right baby let go for me, that feels good huh?” she nods her head rapidly and the moans coming out of her travel straight to my own pussy. As she comes down for the high I slow my circles, then remove my hand, already missing the contact I had her with. Her eyes open as I bring my fingers to my mouth, eager to taste her cum. I moan at the sweetness, never expecting it to taste so good and she smiles, watching me lick her wetness off of me with pure hunger.

I feel as if I must literally be glowing, so high from finally getting to please a woman, so high from getting to watch as I make Billie cum. I am so so gay, so fucking gay, gay for Billie specifically. I want to spread her legs and taste all of her, devour her and make her cum over and over again. I want all of it, all right now. Instead I lay my head on her chest, helping her resurface and give her love after her high. “You are so insanely beautiful Billie, I hope you know that” I kiss her cheek as the last of my words hit my lips. Billie’s breathing is heavy, trying to control it as she laughs to herself, clearly shocked at what just happened. “How are you so fucking good at that, have you secretly been fucking women for years?” Billie finally says. “Fuck I wish, I’m just flicking my bean constantly” I laugh out boldly, her giggles mixing with mine. “Mmmm well lucky you, and lucky me now too, you know what the fuck you’re doing y/n” she blushes at her words, hit with the memories of the state I had her in just a few moments ago. “maybe with my fingers yea, but don’t have such high hopes for the rest” I tell her honestly, expressing my continued nervousness of all of this. “We’ll see, we’ll see” she giggles as she kisses me, “seems like you’re a natural, whispering all that nasty shit in my ear while you make me feel like im fucking floating” I hide my face slightly embarrassed at her calling me out for my quite dirty words that came out so naturally. Never have I been a talker during sex, but it seems like everything is different with Billie.

“Bashful now, are ya?” Billie giggles as she slides out of the bed, kissing me on the forehead before walking into the bathroom. Taking off her wet shorts, she turns to face me in the doorway, her fully naked body now on display for me. She’s so confident, so comfortable showing herself to me, so easy about what all is going on between us suddenly. My eyes follow her curves as I stare at her body, not even trying to hide my inability to look away. My attraction for her is so intense it feels it could kill me. My love for her seems to be the same, but I don’t think I’m ready to let myself begin to process that just yet. As I continue to stare, eyes wide, a smile planted across my face, heart pounding in my chest, and between my legs, she just stands there and smiles. She giggles as she begins striking poses, goofing off like always. “Fuck I’m so gay” I almost shout, my eyes still glued to her body as Billie and I both laugh at my statement. “Alright gay girl, I’m getting in the shower, you coming in or not?” I hopped out of bed as soon as I heard her words, running into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, behind us.

I kinda wanna make this a series… or a wattpad book 👀

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie x reader

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melancholy-of-nadia · 2 months ago

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the a(myg)dala (explicit) | myg

title: the a(myg)dala (explicit) - series pairing: mafia leader/detective! agust d x right handman! f. reader ; gang leader! yoongi x right handman! f. reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , thriller , smut ; haegeum au , my agustdverse summary: You wake up in a lavish bedroom with no recollection of memories of who you are. The only person who holds the key to this mystery is the owner of the house, Agust D, a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective. He claims you’re his right hand (wo)man and that he needs to protect you from someone who’s after you, as well as a treasure he’s searching for. With danger lurking and your memories a blank slate, can you trust Agust D to uncover the truth, or is there more to his story than meets the eye? note: i have been planning this in my head (like the delusional girly i am) since daechwita came out in 2020, but it wasn't until 2023 with the haegeum mv that it truly solidified me wanting to put together my thoughts to create this. i started out with Distraction and Infatuation as test one shots to gauge at the interest, and now it has lead me to create the first actual chapter of this series. this series is dedicated to my bestie the biggest yoongi smut luvr i know @daegudrama and to my favorite yoongi fic writers @jcoles and @theharrowing. also this is kinda unedited i apologize for any mistakes sndksfjladsafbjka i will edit later on. warnings: the following series is intended for a mature audience and may contain graphic language, graphic violence, weapons (guns/katana swords/chopsticks), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, gambling, murder, gang activity, memory loss/amnesia, sassy and on guard reader, unreliable characters, haegeum!agust d, haegeum!yoongi, tale of two MYGs technically, LMAO, TEAM SUGA! appearances as mafia men, assassins, slow burn, fight sequences, power imbalance, future smut scenes that may contain some bdsm elements, multiverse implications, tattoos, etc. drop date: october 29th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 5.5k crossposted on ao3 – –

The world slowly comes into focus, the haze of unconsciousness lifting like a dissipating fog. You blink, your eyelids heavy as if weighed down by lead. The room around you is unfamiliar, dimly lit by a lamp on a nearby table. The scent of damp wood and something herbal lingers in the air. You try to move, but a sharp, throbbing pain in your head forces you to stay still.

Panic surges through you. Where are you? Why can’t you remember anything?

You glance around, the room’s details gradually becoming clearer. It is small and sparsely furnished, with wooden walls and a single window covered by a thick, faded curtain. But the strangest part is that you can't recall how you got here or what happened before. Your mind is blank, a void where your memories should be.

Well, almost blank.

Two things are certain in your mind: your name—whatever comfort that brings—and the image of a man, his face marked by a prominent scar, entering this very room. Yet, in the memory, the man looks different—his features more vivid, his clothing distinct. He is wearing a green jacket. You cling to that detail as if it were a lifeline in the sea of confusion.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the creaking of the wooden floor. You turn your head—slowly, cautiously—and see him. The man from your memory stands at the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and relief.

“You’re up? You’ve been asleep for a couple of days now.”

His voice is deep, carrying a warmth that contrasts with the sternness of his appearance. The scar on his face is unmistakable, and yet something about him seems off, like a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.

“Who are—” you start to ask, but the words catch in your throat as a sudden, stabbing pain shoots through your temples. You wince, pressing a hand to your forehead as you try to steady your breathing.

The man’s eyes narrow, his concern deepening. “Easy, doll, don’t strain yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”

Doll?

His tone is soothing, but it only heightens your unease. Why does he look so familiar? And why does the memory of him in that green jacket feel so significant?

“I... I can’t remember… why can’t I remember?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your fear and confusion. “I can’t remember anything, except your face. But you looked different... the green jacket...”

The man frowns, clearly troubled by your words. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if trying not to startle you.

“Listen,” he says gently, grasping your cheek. “You’ve been through something traumatic. It’s normal to feel disoriented. But you’re safe now, alright? We’ll figure this out together.”

His reassurance does little to ease the growing tension in your chest. As he speaks, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something he isn’t telling you—something important that lies just beyond your grasp.

But for now, with your head pounding and your body weak, all you can do is nod and hope that the answers will come soon.

His phone rings, the sound slicing through the uneasy quiet of the room. The man glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before pulling the phone from his pocket. He answers it without a word, his face hardening as he listens to the person on the other end. After a tense moment, he turns away, stepping out of the room.

The door creaks shut behind him.

You wait, the minutes stretching into what feels like an eternity. Ten minutes pass, then thirty, and still, there is no sign of his return. Your unease grows. Why hasn’t he come back yet? What was that phone call about?

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as your anxiety gnaws at you. You try to stay still, but the silence is suffocating. You need to get out of bed.

With some effort, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as your body protests the movement. Every muscle feels sore, as if you’ve been through something physically draining. Your feet touch the cool floor, and you slowly stand, swaying slightly as the room spins for a moment. Steadying yourself, you look around, eyes settling on the door.

You have to investigate. You need to understand what is happening.

Just as you take a step toward the door, it swings open with a soft creak. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as a new figure enters the room.

It is a woman, dressed sharply in a tailored black suit that contrasts her bright orange bob cut. She moves with an air of quiet confidence, her eyes locking onto yours with a steady, calm gaze. She seems close to your age, though something about her presence feels more mature, more composed.

“Hello,” she says, her voice smooth and professional. “My name is Adora. Apologies, as Mr. Agust had to step out unexpectedly, but he kept me up to speed with everything going on and told me to help care for you in the meantime.”

You blink, taking in her words, still processing the situation.

Mr. Agust? That’s his name?

Adora approaches the small table by the bed and sets down a neatly folded bundle of clothes. “I’ve brought you some clothes,” she adds, gesturing toward the bundle. “I imagine you’d want to change into something more comfortable.” She glances at you, wearing a white spaghetti-strapped nightgown. Yeah, you need to change out of this.

“Who… who is Mr. Agust?” you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse. The question has been burning in your mind ever since you woke up.

“Oh! The man who was just in here before me. Agust D,” she says happily. “He’s been looking after you since… well, since the incident.”

“The incident?” you repeat, confused. “What happened to me?”

Her smile fades, and a shadow of concern crosses her features. “I’m afraid that’s something only Mr. Agust can explain to you. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

She steps back, giving you space, and nods toward the clothes again. “Go ahead and take a shower before changing. I’ll wait outside if you need anything.”

And once again, you are left alone.

You grab the bundle of clothes, the fabric soft under your fingers as you unfold them. A white, long-sleeved collared shirt, a plaid skirt, and knee socks—an odd combination. Your brow furrows. Is this a school uniform? The thought seems out of place, considering everything else, but you push it aside. Right now, getting cleaned up and dressed feels like the first step toward reclaiming some control.

There is a small door beside your bed that leads to a bathroom. You open it and are greeted by a modest, clean space. The tiles are cool beneath your feet as you walk toward the shower. Your mind feels murky, still clouded by the lack of memory, and every detail around you seems both unfamiliar and strangely mundane at the same time.

As the hot water sprays down from the rain showerhead on the ceiling, you stand still for a moment, letting the warmth wash over you. It feels good, the steam wrapping around your sore muscles, loosening the tension that has built up since waking. Slowly, you begin to move, running your hands through your hair, watching the water swirl around your feet. You glance down at your body, your movements still careful, as though you fear something is waiting beneath the surface of your skin.

And then, you notice them—bruises. Small, fading marks dot your legs and arms, some yellowing at the edges, others still dark purple. Scrapes, too, healed over but unmistakable, mar your skin. You gently touch one on your forearm, wincing at the slight sting.

What happened to you? Frustration bubbles up inside you, making your throat tight. Every mark tells a story, a piece of the puzzle that should be obvious. But all you have are fragments, and none of them make sense.

You close your eyes, trying to summon any trace of a memory, something that could explain the bruises, the scrapes, the pain in your muscles. But there is nothing. Just emptiness.

Your hands shake slightly as you rinse off, the water turning from soothing to overwhelming. You finish quickly, the hot steam doing little to quell the storm of confusion and frustration rising within you.

Stepping out of the shower, you catch your reflection in the small, fogged-up mirror. You wipe it with your hand, staring at yourself, but the person staring back looks just as lost. No answers. No clarity.

With a sigh, you turn away and dry off, pulling on the strange outfit—first the crisp white shirt, then the plaid skirt and knee socks. The uniform fits well enough. Did you used to wear this before as well? You're left wondering too many things...

After slipping into a comfortable pair of slippers that you find beside the bed, you step out of the room for the first time. The hallway greets you with a soft, dim glow, revealing that evening has settled in. Shadows dance across the walls as you cautiously make your way forward.

Adora is sitting in a chair by your door, casually scrolling through her phone. At the sound of your footsteps, she looks up, her orange hair catching the light.

“Miss! All done? Do you need anything?” she asks, standing up swiftly with an attentive smile.

“Yeah, all done,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just... want you to show me around. I’m having a little trouble recalling some things.” You hesitate, wary of revealing too much. If people know about your memory loss, they could use it against you. But surely Adora had been informed by Agust D beforehand, right?

Adora’s eyes softened. “No worries, Mr. Agust did mention this detail to me.”

You’re correct.

“I’ll show you around and get you updated on the things I’m cleared to inform you on,” she adds.

Cleared? The word hangs in the air, making you wonder just how much is being kept from you. Still, you nod. “That’s fine.”

Adora leads the way down the hall, and your tour begins. The mansion is far larger than you anticipate. As you move from room to room, it becomes clear that this place is no ordinary home. The architecture is grand, with high ceilings and long corridors lined with dark wood paneling and expensive-looking art. Every room seems carefully designed, exuding luxury and power.

Your bedroom is relatively simple compared to the rest of the mansion—modest in size with muted tones, though the bed is large and soft. Across the hall, Adora points out Mr. Agust’s room. Unlike yours, it is locked, and she makes no attempt to open it. The door itself is dark wood, with intricate carvings around the frame. You can only imagine what is inside.

Next, she leads you to his office. It’s a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a grand desk made of polished mahogany, and a large window overlooking a courtyard. Papers and files are neatly stacked on the desk, though Adora makes no comment about what they contain. The room has an air of importance, almost like a command center.

The kitchen and dining area are expansive. The kitchen, spotless and gleaming, is staffed with a few workers who nod politely as you pass. The dining room is more formal, with a long table capable of seating at least a dozen people. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, casting warm light across the room.

The living room is one of the most impressive spaces—a large, open area with plush leather sofas, a marble fireplace, and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The windows here are larger, revealing a darkening city skyline.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in Bangkok. Thailand.”

Bangkok? You know what that place is, but it’s not a location you expected to be in.

As you explore, you begin to notice more people moving through the mansion—mostly bodyguards, dressed in black and stationed at various points. Most of them seem to be Korean, their stoic expressions and quiet movements blending into the background. It’s strange to see so many of them here. A mansion in Thailand, filled with Koreans—it doesn’t add up.

Your curiosity gnaws at you, but you know Adora isn’t the right person to ask. Whatever this is, it feels delicate. You’ll have to wait for Mr. Agust.

After what feels like hours of walking through corridors and staircases, Adora finally leads you to the dining room, gesturing for you to sit at the long table.

“I received word that Mr. Agust has just arrived,” she says, offering you a gentle smile. “You’ll meet him here. The staff has set out some tea and desserts for you while you wait.”

You look at the table. A silver tray holds a pot of tea and an assortment of small pastries. The aroma is sweet and comforting, but the anticipation makes your hands tremble slightly as you reach for a cup and serve yourself some tea.

“I’ll come back to join you two, along with some of the other guards,” Adora continues. “Mr. Agust will be here shortly.”

Interesting. You’re not sure what to make of this situation.

The dining room grows quieter as you sit alone with your thoughts, nibbling on a cookie to stave off the nerves.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoes through the hallway outside the dining room. You freeze, your pulse quickening as the door swings open. A group of men enters, all dressed in dark suits, their expressions stern and composed. They move in unison, fanning out to take seats around the table, but one man stands out from the rest.

Agust D

He strides in with a commanding presence, his sharp eyes surveying the room as he walks. There’s an air of authority around him that makes the space feel smaller. His dark hair is slicked back, his expression unreadable as he takes the seat at the head of the table.

The sleeves of his shirt are stained red… You don’t want to know if that’s blood, but it’s the only thing you can assume.

Adora re-enters the room soon after, gliding in with her usual grace. She takes her seat across from you, her calm demeanor unwavering as she folds her hands in front of her. The tension in the room is thick, though it seems invisible to her.

Agust turns to you, his gaze piercing but calm. "I hope you’re feeling a bit more settled," he says, his voice low and even.

Yeah, sure, settled, you think, fighting the urge to laugh. Settled is the last thing you feel in this... “house.”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on you. “Yeah, I suppose,” you mutter, unsure how to respond. You reach for a cookie from the tray in front of you, more out of nervousness than actual hunger.

“I know this place might be overwhelming,” Agust continues, leaning back in his chair. “This is no ordinary home, as you’ve probably gathered by now.”

You swallow hard, the cookie crumbling slightly in your hands. No ordinary home is an understatement. The size, the guards, the secrecy—it all screams something far beyond the normal.

“To formally introduce myself, my name is Agust D. I’m the chief detective for the Asia-Pacific Police Force here in Bangkok. Comprised of officers from all Asia investigating international crime,” he says, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as if daring you to believe him.

You nod slowly, though something about it doesn’t sit right with you. “That’s... interesting,” you begin carefully, “but I don’t think that’s all. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Smart girl. You’re sharp, I’ll give you that.” Agust’s eyes gleam, and a chuckle rumbles from his chest. “No, that’s not all.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “I am a leader of this mafia family you’ve been seeing.”

Your hand freezes mid-bite, the cookie slipping from your fingers and falling onto the table. Your heart skips a beat. Mafia? Your mind races. Organized crime? How the hell did you get involved in something like this? Fear snakes up your spine as your hands begin to tremble slightly. You can feel your throat tightening, your body responding to the panic rising inside you.

Agust’s eyes soften just a fraction, as if sensing your fear. “Relax,” he says, his voice calm, almost reassuring. “I’m not going to hurt you... you’ve been working for me for quite some time before all of this, after all.”

“Working for you?” you echo, incredulous. None of this makes sense. You shake your head, unable to comprehend. “Me? I... I don’t think so. I mean why would I–”

Agust’s smile returns, and he leans back in his chair, his hand disappearing beneath the table. “It is you,” he says firmly, interrupting you. Without warning, he tosses something across the table.

You flinch, instinctively reaching out to catch it—your hand closing around the handle of a heavy object. What the— A sword? Its weight is oddly familiar in your grip. You stare at it, eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. The scabbard is intricately decorated with a blossom pattern that triggers something deep within you, something familiar.

You’ve seen this before... You’ve used this before.

Grainy and fragmented memories burst through your mind of a time when you’d used this. “Go ahead,” Agust says, his voice quiet but commanding. “Try it out.”

As if under a trance, your fingers move on their own, sliding the blade free from the scabbard. The polished metal gleams in the low light, its sharp edge whispering of battles fought and blood spilled. Before you realize what is happening, you have gotten onto the dining table, moving with fluid precision toward Agust that startles even you.

The bodyguards around the room react instantly, rising from their chairs and drawing guns, all pointed at you. But you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Your body moves on its own, and within a second, you are standing over Agust, the tip of your blade mere centimeters from his throat.

The room is dead silent. Agust doesn’t flinch. He merely raises a hand, a calm gesture to his men. The bodyguards look at him in hesitation, but slowly lower their weapons, keeping their eyes trained on you.

A chuckle escapes his lips. “Did that jog your memory?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as if he has been waiting for this moment.

You stare down at him, your chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I... only a little…?” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the sword in your hand feels so familiar, so right, but your mind is still a blur of confusion.

“So much bloodlust you’ve got hidden in those eyes. Are you going to cut me down this time, doll?” he asks, his voice teasing, yet there’s a glint of seriousness behind his eyes.

This time? What does he mean by “this time”?

Despite the odd question, your heart skips a beat.

“W-What?!” you stammer, not understanding what he means. You pull the blade away, stepping back and lowering it to your side. Your hands are still shaking.

Agust smirks but says nothing more about it. Instead, he leans back, seemingly unfazed by how close he has come to death. “So, do you want some of the answers I can provide?”

Enough of this cryptic stuff.

You blink, still trying to process what just happened. “Are you actually going to answer me this time?” you ask, your voice sharper than intended.

Agust chuckles, clearly enjoying this more than you are. “That depends on what you want to know.”

“Hmm…” You hesitate for a moment while Agust signals his men to sit back down. They sit down, resume their positions, and the tension in the room seems to dissolve as if nothing happened just moments ago.

“Now tell me, doll,” Agust says, leaning forward, his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory intensity.

“First of all, who am I? Why do you keep calling me ‘Doll’?” you shoot back, your tone sharper than intended.

Agust lets out a deep breath, almost as if your question bores him. “You don’t have a name, as far as I know, so I call you doll. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

You give him an exasperated roll of your eyes, and he chuckles, as if he expects nothing less. “But besides me, everyone else calls you ‘Dove’—your code name.”

“Why am I here?” you press on, hoping for a more substantial answer.

Agust’s grin grows wider. “Great to see you moving on to this point,” he says, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “I’m protecting you. Your life is at stake, actually.”

You scoff. “Protecting me from…?”

“Someone.” His tone is vague, and your irritation flares at his refusal to offer more.

“Could you be any more vague?” you mutter, rolling your eyes again, daring him to give you something concrete. “Who is it?”

Agust’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. He clearly isn’t used to being questioned like this. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, one of the bodyguards at his side, a man with sharp features and an intense gaze, speaks up.

“I don’t think you should ask that right now,” he says firmly. “Just for the sake of your life.”

“Yijeong,” another bodyguard—a much older man with long black locks of hair—warns in a low voice.

Yijeong shrugs, his eyes unwavering. “I’m just looking out for her safety.” It doesn’t sound sincere, to be completely honest.

Agust gives a subtle nod, silencing the exchange with a single glance. Then he turns back to you, his gaze slightly softened. “Anyway, it’s exactly as I said,” he continues, his voice smooth, almost practiced. “As part of my daytime role, I’m a detective. And I’m also an underground mafia boss.”

You stiffen, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a shroud. He isn’t done. “The person after you wants something that you hold the key to—something that we both want.” His tone is steady, a faint glint of ambition in his eyes. “I met you a few years ago and decided to let you live here, by my side, in hopes of finding it.”

You take a shaky breath, your mind reeling as you try to process this. “And I’ve been here ever since… as your right-hand man?”

Agust leans forward, his voice low yet intense. “That’s right. You were essential to our operations. I need you back in action, though. There’s a lot at stake here. We need to find this thing as soon as possible and get rid of this other person trying to kill you.”

You try to wrap your head around the idea that you’ve been living a life entrenched in the shadows of the criminal underworld, working closely with Agust and his organization—yet you can’t remember any of it. The weight of it presses heavily on you, disbelief twisting in your gut.

“So, you’re telling me,” you begin, your voice slightly unsteady but determined, “that I’ve been involved in this… mafia life all this time and now, because of some freak accident that you won’t disclose, I have not a single memory of it?”

“Precisely.” His eyes are fixed on you, unwavering. “Once you start easing into things again, I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice gaining an edge, “but now, I need you to decide.”

The frustration bubbles up within you, and without fully realizing it, you blurt out the most pressing question in your mind. “And what if I refuse?”

“Refuse?”

“Yeah, I mean, this sounds great and all… but I’m not about this mafia life and fighting whatever gang rival you have. Maybe you are mistaken about me.”

“Then…” A dangerous gleam flashes in Agust’s eyes, and before you know it, his hand moves beneath the table. In one swift motion, he pulls out a sleek, polished handgun, the metallic click echoing as he cocks a bullet into the barrel. You flinch, eyes widening as he aims it in your direction, his expression dark but laced with amusement.

“I’ll just kill you right here.” He pauses, letting the threat hang in the air before he lets out a dry laugh.

Holy shit.

What the fuck is that switch-up!?

You knew this man is insane, from the moment he handed you a katana and nearly let you cut him down.

He chuckles softly, an unsettling sound that made your heart race even faster. “Honestly, this could work in my favor anyway.”

Agust tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he keeps the gun trained on you. "Then he will never get his hands on you. Ending it here sounds like a fine choice, doesn’t it?” His tone is almost casual, as if he were discussing nothing more consequential than the weather.

Your throat feels tight, but you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. His words hang in the air, blending with the heavy silence of the room. The other men seated at the table look on, stone-faced, while Adora remains calm, her eyes studying you carefully. You can tell she’s a little worried for you.

“You really think you can just kill me off?” you manage, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. “All this talk about me being your right hand, about me holding the key to something you need. If I’m that important, you can’t just get rid of me. Then you’ll never find what you’re looking for.”

Agust’s lips curl into a smirk. “Oh, doll, I like that fire,” he says, lowering the gun ever so slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. Great, just what you need—a compliment from your potential murderer. “You’re right. I can’t just let you go that easily.”

He leans back, his gaze unwavering as he places the gun on the table, almost within reach yet tantalizingly out of yours. “Let’s make something clear,” he continues, his voice softening yet holding that sharp edge. “You’re right. You’re valuable to me, too valuable to throw away—at least for now.”

For now? That’s comforting. What does ‘for now’ even mean in this context? You thought you were friends for a long time by now. Doesn’t sound like it from this.

The tension in the room lessens slightly, though your pulse is still racing. Agust’s words feel like a reprieve, but only just; you know there’s always another game behind his every sentence, and the stakes are dangerously high.

“Alright,” you reply, forcing a bit of calm into your voice. “Then tell me more. You say I’m the key to something… What is it exactly?”

Agust shrugs, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. “For now, let’s say it’s a treasure—one that’s extremely valuable to both me and… other interested parties.” He gives a small, almost lazy wave of his hand, brushing off the details as if they’re minor inconveniences.

“Other interested parties?” you press, sensing he’s holding back. “Like the person you’re supposedly protecting me from?”

Agust’s eyes narrow slightly, as though debating just how much he wants to divulge. He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, and gives a curt nod.

“Yes, exactly like that person. But don’t worry about…them,” he says, his voice dipping lower, almost like a threat wrapped in reassurance. “With me around, you’re safe. They won’t touch you. Besides, doll, you led them on quite a chase right before the accident that happened to you….And now, they know better than to mess with one of the biggest mafias in Bangkok, especially one that has the police wrapped around its finger.”

The words settle over you like a heavy blanket, the weight of the implications sinking in. You haven’t just ended up here by chance, nor is this some benevolent offer of protection. The people after you aren’t merely rivals—they’re people who chased you, people you evaded in the past. And now, you’re under the protection of not just any organization, but a criminal empire with authority woven tightly into Bangkok’s very fabric.

“Wrapped around your finger?” you echo, incredulous but with a hint of fascination you can’t suppress.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair as though he’s merely recounting a successful business venture. “Yes, Bangkok’s finest wouldn’t dare cross me. I’m a chief detective, after all. It’s all very convenient, don’t you think?”

Right, because every girl dreams of being involved with a chief detective who moonlights as a mafia boss. What’s next? A romantic comedy?

You feel your pulse throb in your temples in disbelief. “So that’s why they won’t come after me here?”

“Exactly,” he replies, his tone almost smug. “To come after you here would be a death sentence for them. And they know it.”

You mean, you can’t argue with that logic. Guess you’ll have to stick around this madness for a while.

You slowly slide off the table, feeling the lingering tension in your limbs as you settle back into your seat at the far end of the dining table. Agust watches you with that familiar smirk, clearly pleased with the subtle shift in your demeanor. Once seated, you exhale, steadying yourself before meeting his gaze again.

“And if you continue to stay here,” he begins, his tone softer but laced with intent, “there’s a chance your memories will eventually come back, piece by piece. Trying to leave and figure it all out on your own would be… risky, to say the least.”

He’s giving you an out, it seems, yet he isn’t. The faintest hint of a choice dangles in front of you, a chance to regain who you are—or escape before you learn too much.

Agust’s gaze never wavers. “If you want answers—if you want to understand what’s locked away in that mind of yours—staying is your best option.”

Adora’s gaze is unwavering as well, as though silently urging you to take Agust’s offer. You glance at the others around the table, all of them still and watchful, a powerful, immovable force surrounding you.

“And if I don’t stay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, though his eyes hold the barest glint of amusement. “Then I suppose you’ll be putting all that fire to good use. Running from a lot of people… including me.” His smirk softens, but his words are as sharp as ever. “The most dangerous game. It’s your choice, doll. But remember, what’s waiting for you out there isn’t likely to be as welcoming as here.”

Nice way to put it. A warm welcome with care followed by a bullet?

You lean back, trying to process everything. It’s surreal—being told you’ve been living some double life as the right hand to a mafia boss, that you’ve led people on a chase through Bangkok, and now, because of all this, there are people actively out to get you. Just yesterday… well, whenever “yesterday” is, you have no memory of this life. And now, Agust is offering you a choice. Either stay here and trust him to help you find yourself again, or leave and risk everything on your own.

You look down, hands fidgeting on your lap as you think it over. Realistically? You don’t have a lot of options. Even if you leave, where would you go? How would you survive with no memory of who you are? Just the idea of stumbling around Bangkok, a city you barely even remember, trying to outwit… whoever is after you seems like a suicide mission.

Besides, there’s something oddly reassuring about Agust, even if his methods are a bit terrifying. He doesn’t look like he’s about to pull any punches, and for some reason, that makes you trust him more. He isn’t hiding who he is or what he’s capable of, and he isn’t sugar-coating the risks. The entire mafia thing is insane, sure, but something in you stirs with a strange familiarity when he speaks about it. It’s as if you’ve known all along, buried somewhere deep down.

You steal another glance at him, noting how he’s watching you, calm and expectant. He isn’t pushing you, just waiting for you to come to a conclusion.

Finally, you sigh and look up, meeting his gaze. “Fine,” you say, exhaling as if to release the last bits of resistance. “I’ll stay. You protect me, and I… I’ll do whatever I did before and help you get what you’re looking for. If this is my best chance at getting those memories back, then I’ll take it.”

A satisfied smile curves Agust’s lips. “Good girl. I knew you’d come around.”

Adora, who’s been watching from across the table, gives a small and excited nod, and the other bodyguards exchange glances. The tension in the room eases, like the whole crew has been waiting for your decision.

“All right, then,” you say, half to yourself. “Guess I’m back to… whatever this is.”

Agust chuckles. “Welcome back to the family.”

–

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for this series! ➸ a(mygdala) pilot one shot #1 - distraction and one shot #2 - infatuation ➸ all fics masterlist

a/n: thank you so much reading! apologies for the very dialogue heavy first chapter in this series as I needed to set up the vibe and expectation of reader and Agust D. We'll get more into the mafia bitty gritty in the next chapter as well as eventual smut in later chapaters for these two before shit goes down hehehehe im sorry it'll be a bit of a wait since it's slow burn... but there will be a ton of charged up tension leading into it heheheheh

i had planned to release this earlier this month but after a very intensive job hunt for the past year + 7 months, i finally found a new job! yay! cries... so future updates will take some time. but please please feel free to send me your thoughts or suggestions on things you'd like to see in this series in the future and i will make sure to incorporate it. :) until next time!

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eringobragh420 · 8 days ago

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🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s fiancée receives a head injury during a match resulting in amnesia. (Part 2/5) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 🛑 Warnings: Head injury, hospital setting, mention of oral (f receiving) 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

DAY ONE

You awoke slowly, eyelids weighing at least a thousand pounds when you tried to lift them. Eventually they opened, though it took a few more blinks to clear your vision and realize you had no earthly idea where you were. The light above your head, the blood pressure cuff constricting around one arm and an IV in the other, it was fairly easy to deduce you were in a hospital. You sighed, remembering the night before—how much of it, you weren’t sure—but then you remembered that you couldn’t remember everything last night and it was still true today. You didn't know your name or what you had been doing to get injured in the first place. But you knew what a hospital was, and a BP cuff and an IV … why were your memories selective? Had you literally hit your head in such a spot to dislodge only certain memories and not others? Was that even possible? Would you ever know?

Turning your head, the man from the night before—Damian Priest, you remembered, though as your fiancé, you recalled nothing—was asleep beside you, still in the same chair. His head was slumped, chin resting against his shoulder, one of his hands covering yours on the bed, feet propped on another chair. He'd stayed, and he was bound to be incredibly sore when he woke up, and your heart swelled anyway. He must really love you, you thought, and your swollen heart deflated like one of Tom Brady’s footballs. This handsome—quit trying to downplay how sexy he is just because you can’t remember him—man was doing his absolute best to take care of you and be there for you, and you had not one single fucking recollection of him. And because of this reason, you couldn’t ignore the slight discomfort of having his hand over yours. Last night you’d craved contact, now all you seemed to want was distance. Unfortunately, as soon as you slipped your hand out from under his, the big man jumped awake, his now empty hand clenching around nothing.

“Sorry,” he rasped, scrubbing that hand over his face. “Are you okay?” Your eyes slid to his, and you didn’t have to tell him that there had been no change from the night before. It was fleeting, so fast you weren’t positive you saw it, but devastation swept across his features before he replaced it with a forced smile. “It’s alright,” he said, but the tears were already spilling onto your cheeks, and before you could tend to them, Damian was cupping your face, his thumbs wiping the tiny rivers from your skin. “It’s only been a day,” he reminded you, leaning forward so it was easier for you to meet his gaze comfortably. “You gotta give yourself some time. Okay?” You sniffed miserably, nodding in his grasp, and when he was sure you were finished crying, he severed your physical connection, however reluctant he was to do so. “I’m gonna go find your doctor,” he said, standing from the chair. “See if I can take you home today.” You swallowed, nodding, though a myriad of new fears squeezed around your heart.

After Damian closed the door behind him, your head fell back against the pillow, and you winced at the soreness. He wanted to take you home. Of course he did. Where else would you go but home? But you were scared to see more things or people you didn’t recognize. Would you be able to handle it, or would your brain simply melt under its burning efforts to remember the life you had forgotten? On the other hand, maybe seeing your home and your stuff, smelling the smells and touching the surfaces, sleeping in your own bed, would jog your memory. You had to at least try, you knew that, but the sheer terror of being more confused than ever still loomed heavily over you.

Outside your door, Damian leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead, then his stiff neck, and his eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t actually admitted it to himself, but somewhere deep inside, he’d expected you to be his same old fiancée when you woke up. You’d thank him for staying with you and you’d kiss and everything would be fine. But you still didn’t know him. There’d been no reason to ask—he could see it in your eyes. The devastation, the fear, the confusion—all still present and accounted for, like a perfect attendance record for students of Trauma. As much as he knew it pained you, he felt like he was dying. He’d seen love and adoration and joy in your beautiful eyes for so long, and the shock still hadn’t worn off from seeing the emptiness there last night. The light, your light, that he’d fallen in love with had been extinguished, and he didn’t know if it would ever be relit.

The doctor from the night prior was no longer on duty, so Damian spoke to someone else. The new doctor reviewed your chart, then Damian followed them into your room so they could perform a series of neurological tests, which you passed, aside from still not knowing the answer to the Big Three: your name, the year, or the President of the United States. Aside from the amnesia and concussion, you were healthy and granted permission to not only head home, but board a plane to get there. You hadn’t even considered that you weren’t in your hometown, and now you would have to navigate an airport with memory loss and a head injury?

As if reading your thoughts, Damian hooked his pinky around yours. You looked down at your fingers on the bed, assuming this should mean something to you, but your mind was blank, so you lifted your eyes to his. “Don’t worry,” he said, the intense timbre causing your thighs to unceremoniously clench. “I’ll be right there.” You smiled, feeling comforted, though not as much as you probably would have been if you actually knew who the fuck he was.

You were given a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both your size, but you didn’t recognize them, as well as a pair of sneakers, also your size. Apparently some friends of yours had brought you these items the night before while you slept, the name’s Rhea and Jey filling you with just as much curiosity as the name Damian Priest. Once dressed, you were forced into a wheelchair despite your protestations that your head was injured and not your legs or feet, and Damian was the one to carry the bag which contained the costume you’d been wearing when you’d fallen, as well as the boots, while pushing you toward the exit. Your own personal Superman, and you couldn’t even remember how you’d met.

He helped you into the backseat of a sleek, black vehicle that had been sent by the WWE, tossed your stuff in the trunk, and somehow folded his humongous frame into the seat beside you. As the driver chauffeured you back to the hotel you were told you were staying at, every now and then, if the car hit a bump, Damian’s arm would lift like he would protect you from being jolted forward, much like the intended use of the seatbelt buckled around you, and it was the most endearing and annoying thing in the world.

“I’m okay,” you said, and he looked at you. “I mean, I can’t remember … anything, but … I’m okay otherwise. I can handle a few potholes.”

Damian’s smirk grew slowly. “Fair enough,” he said, glancing out the window. A moment later, he looked back at you. “But when I do it again—”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.” The smile you shared felt special, but it didn’t go much further than that.

Even though you’d arrived at a hotel instead of your home, the respite you felt was boundless. No beeping machines or BP cuffs or IV stands or intrusive nurses and doctors existed in this room. Just you, a stranger, and eventually your things—you and Damian had evidently taken all of your belongings to the arena where you’d had your accident, the idea being you would head straight for the airport after the show. And since you’d gone to the hospital instead, Damian had paid for the room last night and tonight to give you some time to rest and relax before having to deal with traveling.

“So listen,” Damian’s smoke-on-velvet voice permeated your thoughts, and you turned to him, “Rhea and Jey grabbed all our stuff from the arena, so I’m gonna go get it before they take off. Will you be okay alone for a few minutes? I can ask them to bring it here—” Which was something he actually did not want to do, considering a specific item he had to make sure was in its rightful spot amongst your things.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, attempting a smile, but you weren’t sure how it came across.

Damian nodded, waited a beat, and reached into the back pocket of his fitted blue jeans. And when you noticed his jeans were so tight and mostly left nothing to the imagination, you began noticing other things: his perfectly toned and tattooed arms, broad chest and shoulders, and those legs of his went on for days. If you really had landed this Adonis of a man, surely you deserved some sort of award or medal. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, the case protecting it obnoxiously colorful and glittery, and you instantly knew it was yours. Now what the fuck? you complained. I know that’s my phone, but I don’t know that’s my man? Or my own damn name? You wondered what you’d done so terribly in the life before this one to receive such cruel punishment. “This is yours,” Damian went on, closing the space between the two of you. “Uh … your whole life is on there. Our whole life, really. Pictures, videos, text messages, social media … but I have to warn you.” Your gaze lifted to his, and while he was deadly serious about what he was about to say, you still spotted a bit of devilry in those mahogany eyes. “You and I have a … very physical relationship.” He scratched at the back of his neck, cheeks tinging just a hint of pink, smiling awkwardly.

You blinked up at him. “You mean we fuck a lot?” you deadpanned. It was an honest question until you both realized the way you’d worded it, and you shared a few chuckles.

“Uh, exactly,” Damian confirmed. “So those pictures and videos and texts between us will probably be about 90% sexual.” Made sense—look at the man. “Same with the gallery, and … you know what? Just browse at your own risk.” Another collective giggle. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”

You shook your head and shrugged. “I mean, if you find my memory out there …” It was a cheesy thing to say, and suddenly you were embarrassed because, also suddenly, you had a strong desire to impress Damian. What if your memory never came back and the two of you had to start all over? Would he even want that? Would you?

Great, the relaxation from before was now circling the drain. You took the phone from Damian, the screen coming to life. He’d warned you about everything but the wallpaper on the phone—Damian stood in the middle of a ring, and you were in his arms, shimmering boots wrapped around his waist, your lips pressed together, and the two of you were silhouetted against a spotlight trained directly on you. You stared at it a moment, taking in every detail, hoping something would trigger inside your brain. Nothing.

“The passcode—” Damian started, but your thumb swept across four numbers without even a thought, and the phone blinked to life, ready for use. You looked up at him, anxiety shooting through the roof, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s okay,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently squeezing.

“I can remember my fucking passcode, but not my fiancé?” you wailed.

“Listen,” Damian hollered over you, and your mouth clamped closed. “That doesn’t mean you remember the code. It could just as easily have been muscle memory.”

“But—”

“Do the numbers mean anything to you?” Actually, thinking about it, you couldn’t recall the numbers you’d punched in not seconds beforehand. You shook your head, and Damian couldn’t hide the grief as it tugged at the corners of his mouth and eyes, though he tried to smile to camouflage the hurt. “It’s my birthday.” And now you wanted to die. “So you didn’t remember it, okay? It was all muscle memory.”

“Right,” you nodded, though it was difficult to believe it. And either way, you lost, so it didn’t matter—it was muscle memory and not real memory, or you remembered the numbers but not their significance. Your classic lose-lose.

Damian sighed. “I’ll be right back, mi vida.” He pushed down the handle on the door.

“Wait,” you called after him. He turned. “What does that mean?”

“Mi vida?” You nodded. Damian’s smile was small. “It means, uh … my life.” You gazed at him for a few seconds, hoping, wishing, praying, that you could remember him or the words. You nodded again, choosing not to speak in case you erupted into sobs.

Damian left the room, clicking the door softly closed behind him. He headed down the hall toward the elevator, but became dizzy and lightheaded, and he reached out for the nearest wall to steady his large body. He shook his head, trying to jostle the sudden ailments free from his brain, because this is the last thing he needed right now. He had to take care of you—he didn’t have the time or energy to tend to himself as well. After a few deep breaths, he boarded the elevator for Rhea and Jey’s floor, barely making it to their door without collapsing from fatigue.

“How is she?” Rhea greeted upon opening the door. Jey was sitting in the chair, holding his phone between his knees.

“Uh, no change,” Damian replied. “My fiancée has no idea who the hell I am.”

“Well, they said that was temporary, didn’t they?” Rhea asked, concerned, crossing her arms.

Damian nodded, not really wanting to have this conversation right now. They were going to ask things he didn’t have the answers to, and he didn’t want that either. He busied himself gathering your suitcase and his, followed by your respective duffel bags. He unzipped yours and rummaged around until he came to the item he’d been the most focused on—the teal Tiffany’s box that contained your engagement ring. You never wore it during matches, instead nestling it back in the box it had been presented to you in, which you then tucked safely into your bag. Watching it sparkle in even the dull light of the hotel room, Damian remembered every moment of proposing to you—the salt in the air, the crashing waves of the ocean, the sand beneath his feet, and your dress fluttering in the wind as you held a hand over your mouth, capable of only nodding when asked if you would marry him. He gazed down at the ring for a long moment before closing the box and packing it into his duffel bag instead of yours. He didn’t want you to see it and feel obligated to wear it if you weren’t comfortable doing so, so he decided to avoid the conversation altogether—provided you never asked where your engagement ring was.

At the same time, you crawled into bed with the messy covers, briefly wondering if you had a side and which one it might be, but then you smelled Damian on one of many pillows. Your body slid across the mattress of its own accord, your mind not even thinking about it, and you snuggled into the scent of the man you loved but didn’t know. You entered the passcode on your phone—muscle memory—looking for a moment at the wallpaper and the triple digit notifications for both missed calls and text messages, before tapping on the Gallery. Too many folders to count popped up, and you tapped the one that caught your eye first—Movies. You chose a random video and pressed play.

The video was dark to begin with, but the quality cleared, and you were able to see a pair of legs—your legs, you knew somehow—in stockings, the lacy tops of the stockings visible because of a short dress made even shorter by bunching it around your hips. The camera zoomed out to show your legs were stretched over the center console of some expensive vehicle, your feet in Damian’s lap. His hair was pulled back into a high bun, he was dressed in a suit, and one of his hands controlled the steering wheel while the other snuck under one of your heels to rub your foot. You moaned on screen, and Damian smirked. He removed the heel altogether and, not knowing what else to do with it, hooked it to the top of the steering wheel so he could better massage your foot.

“I love you, baby,” you said through the phone, and your voice sounded familiar, but the huskiness and sheer obsession in your tone surprised you.

“I love you, querida,” Damian rumbled, glancing at you to wink before returning his eyes to the road. Your heart shriveled within your chest and there was that feeling of wanting to die again.

“I’m gonna ride you when we get home,” you sing-songed from behind the camera.

You tapped the Back button on the phone to stop and minimize the video. You had an idea of where it was going, and you knew the stars of the show were yourself and Damian, but since you couldn’t remember anything about this night, it felt almost like you were invading someone else’s privacy. Scrolling down, a curious thumbnail caught your eye, and though you knew better, your thumb tapped on it regardless.

Whoever was behind the phone had the lens trained on a big screen TV, which was playing some movie you may have recognized but couldn’t think of the name of. The rest of the room appeared to be a cozy living area with dimmed lights and modern decor.

“My fiancé promised we were going to actually Netflix and chill after a travel day, but this motherfucker …” And the camera lowered until all you could see were a pair of thighs—your thighs—on either side of Damian’s head, his mouth buried in your pussy as he knelt in front of you on the couch. “Fuck, Papi,” you moaned through the phone’s speakers, your hand entering the frame as you wrapped your fingers around his ponytail.

You punched the Home button several times before tossing the phone face down on the bed. You buried your face in the pillow that smelled like Papi and you wanted to cry, had the urge to cry, your eyes and nose burned like you were going to cry, but no tears came. Had you already cried them all?

You heard the key card slip into place, followed by a click, and the hotel room door opened. You looked over your shoulder and watched as Damian struggled to bring in all the luggage. Lifting the blankets, you started out of bed to help, but Damian put his hand up, smiled, and told you to relax and that he had everything under control. Another forced smile from him, and it was getting easier for you to tell.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Damian placed the luggage and bags in the closet area before crossing the room and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. “For everything.” The smile from him this time was more genuine. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“Mi amor, nothing about you has been easy since the day we met,” Damian grinned. You smirked, looking away. “You turned me down at least … a hundred times.”

“That seems like an exaggeration,” you said, brows rising.

Damian shrugged, scooting back against the headboard as he kicked his shoes off before crossing one ankle over the other on the bed. It wasn’t lost on you how close to the edge he was seated. “Maybe just a few times,” he admitted fondly, gazing up at the ceiling as he remembered each interaction.

“Why did I say no? Looking through my phone, you and I are … pretty compatible.” You could easily see the burning desire in his eyes to ask what exactly you’d looked at.

“You didn't wanna date someone you worked with,” he shrugged.

You nodded. “So what made me say yes?”

Damian’s grin this time could have lit up the room. “You didn't,” he said. “At the time, on NXT, we were running a few mixed tag matches. That's where—”

“I know what it means,” you interrupted, trying to train yourself not to wonder why you were remembering some things, unimportant things, and not the things that mattered most. You would also have to start paying attention to your attitude toward Damian when you were frustrated with your own brain.

Damian looked at you a moment, eyes narrowed, but he let it go and continued. “Anyway, after we won our first match, you just kinda … jumped into my arms.” He gestured with his big hands. “And then you kissed me.” Your brows rose. “The wallpaper on your phone? That’s that kiss.”

You smirked, rubbing your lips together. “We’re so cute, it almost makes me sick,” you joked.

Damian guffawed, hand over his chest. “Yeah, we hear that a lot.” A yawn overtook you, and your eyes watered from the effort. “You should sleep,” he offered, now yawning himself.

You nodded. “You’re not … leaving, though, are you?” you asked.

Damian shook his head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I mean—” You looked at the bed.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he repeated.

The distance you’d wanted before? Well, you still wanted it, but you couldn’t have him too far away, either, so on the other side of the bed was perfect, and you started to crawl back under the blankets.

“Wait,” you said, sitting up. “This is your side, isn’t it?”

Your fiancé smiled. “Yeah, but—”

“Let’s switch sides,” you interjected. “I want everything as normal as … I can handle.” You hoped Damian was picking up what you were putting down as he stood up. You crawled to the other side, your side, tucking your legs under the covers again. Damian rounded the bed, crossing his arms before grabbing the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head, and he shook his ponytail out from a bun as he tossed the shirt onto a nearby chair. It was completely out of habit, it was easy to tell, but you hadn’t been prepared for it. Your eyes grew as they searched every tattoo and each chiseled muscle, and you were too focused on him to even notice when you licked your lips and sucked the bottom one into your mouth. You had to be the luckiest woman on the face of the planet to have such a delectable man climbing into bed with you.

“Sorry,” Damian said. “I can put it back on …”

“No!” you exclaimed, and your cheeks were set ablaze, and you placed a hand over your eyes like it would magically make you invisible.

“Man, it’s been a minute since I made you blush like that,” Damian chuckled, falling into bed. And he had known your meaning from before—he stayed on his side, maybe closer to the edge than he needed to be—respecting your need for space and his presence at the same time.

#wwe #damian priest #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic #wwe fandom #wwe fic

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kdogreads · 1 year ago

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my oral fixation goes wild when i see richie smoking but also i just need him to put them in me and make me come until i can’t even form a single coherent thought pls god when

Giiiirrlllll (respectfully) MEEE TOOOOO 🤤🤤 we love those fingers those lips oh my 😳🥵

Smutty smut below the cut 🤤🤪 (minors DNI pls)

He knows he should quit. He knows it’s bad for him and for everyone who has to breathe in the smoke he expels. But he also knows it feels so fucking good to take a smoke break after a busy night at The Bear.

“Fuuuck me. I’ve been waiting for you, baby,” Richie’s eyes fall shut and his head leans back against the rough brick wall behind him.

“Richie?” You poked your head out to see who he was talking to, “Are you talking your cigarette?”

He laughs and nods his head as he lifts the smoke to his lips, taking a long drag, pushing the air out of his lungs, and licking his lips to wrap it all up. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at his long, slender fingers.

The two of you stood out back of the restaurant for a few minutes, Richie staring at the stars and you staring at Richie. The way he lifted the smoking cigarette to his lips, fingers wrapped so delicately around it. You couldn’t help but reach out to touch them.

“Where you at, baby?” He teased, switching the cigarette to his other hand so you could intertwine your fingers in his.

“You look good, Richie, that’s all,” You smiled as he lifted your hand to his lips and pecked a kiss onto your palm, then your wrist and up your arm.

“Baby,” You whined as he placed your arm over his shoulder and backed you against the wall.

“Shh, don’t want them to hear you,” His words dance over your neck and sent a shiver down your spine.

He took one more long drag before dropping the butt to the ground. He tips his head back to exhale the tangy smoke over your head and the way his deliciously inviting neck made you shiver in the warm summer breeze.

In one swift motion he hooks his thigh under yours, effectively rucking your skirt up at your waist and opening you up for him. Richie groans as the wet spot on your panties greets his eager fingers.

“Oh fuck,” You whine louder than you mean to as he slides a long finger into your aching cunt and peppers kisses on your neck. You can’t help but gasp as he adds another thick finger inside you, stretching your walls deliciously at a leisurely pace.

Your eyelids feel heavy as he pulls rolling pleasure out of you, teasing that spongey spot deep inside your core with every dragging stroke. You’re pulled out of your head when Richie suddenly leans away from you.

“Keep it down, sweetheart,” He clamps his hand over your open mouth, two fingers teasing your tongue, “Oh you want me to shut you up, huh?”

You nod desperately as he fucks his fingers into you at a punishing pace. Richie grits his teeth and practically growls as he feels your body tensing around him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” He coos at you, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “Cum on Daddy’s fingers, baby, just like that.”

You cry out into his hand as the pressure erupts in your core, walls clenching rhythmically around his still-pumping fingers. You lick and suck on the fingers in your mouth, the slight tang of his cigarette still lingering. Richie’s fingers slide out of your mouth, but you’re too cock drunk (or finger drunk?) to notice.

Your heads tries to fall back against the brick, lips parted and panting like a dog, but the top of your skull is met by a solid, gentle hand protecting you.

“Richie,” the whisper dances from your lips as his fingers slide out of your aching core and carefully smooth your skirt back down.

“Ah, ah, almost done,” He slides the fingers covered in your slick into your mouth, “Clean up f’me, sweetheart.”

You giggle and do as you’re told, sucking your tang off his long, slender fingers. A smile breaks out onto Richie’s face as he shifts to hold your face in both of his hands.

“You really are a fucking dream, baby,” He kisses you softly, the lust in his eyes slowly slipping away back into his typical adoration for you, “My fucking dream.”

Just then, the back door swings open forcefully and out steps Carmy, long overdue for his own smoke break. He spotted the two of you and nodded in greeting, an eyebrow lifting in question for moment before shaking his head as if to say never mind, nasties, and pulled out his phone to ignore the two of you.

You laughed as your attention shifted back to Richie’s lovestruck face right in front of yours.

“Gotta get back in, hm?” Richie asked softly and kissed your lips, “I love you, pretty girl.”

His eyes were so close to yours you could see the spots of darker and lighter blue, and the faint bags under the glimmering white.

You kissed him again and squeezed his waist slightly, “I love you, too, baby.”

#richie jerimovich fluff #richie the bear #richie x reader #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #i love richie #richard jerimovich #kdogreads #the bear imagine #the bear

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oomisluvr · 1 year ago

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practice

SYNOPSIS: it's the night before your wedding and — wait, should we just skip to the part where we kiss?

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, SUPER suggestive but nothing actually happens, sakusa is so in love but so is the reader so it all works out, warning: happy endings, atsumu is pissed lmao, 800 words!

“Should we practice?”

“Practice what?”

“Getting married.”

Egyptian cotton sheets, layers upon layers of mattress toppers, and memory-foam pillows that feel like literal clouds – KIYOOMI has the softest bed of anyone you’ve ever known. It engulfs you like quicksand, with no hope of escaping. You don’t want to.

“Okay,” you yawn, eyes still closed with your feet kicked up on the wall. “As long as I don’t have to get up.”

“You don’t have to.” He copies your yawn, knocking his foot against yours, “Because I sure as hell don’t want to either.”

That pulls a laugh from you, and Kiyoomi stretches his arm for what feels like miles to find your body buried somewhere in the comforter. He thwacks you in the face instead. You don’t even feel it.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I was looking for your hand.” He finds it, then slots his fingers in the spaces between yours, squeezing lightly, “Found it.”

“You are so stupid.”

“Yeah,” He agrees easily, “But you’re the one marrying me. Which makes you stupid by association.”

You push your foot harder against his to establish dominance. Kiyoomi lets you, and his legs drag loudly down the wall before landing softly in the comforter. It makes a funny, airly little sound that makes you giggle. Your giggle makes Kiyoomi chuckle, until you’re laughing at the fact that he’s laughing, which in turn makes him laugh harder. He squeezes your hand, face flushed a strawberry red.

“Should we skip to the part when we kiss?” He whispers, and it sounds so far away, the baritones of his voice escaping you.

“Nah,” Somehow you find the energy to clamor onto him, collapsing your weight onto his lower half with an unattractive grunt. Something jumps to life beneath you, and you angle your hips in a way that makes Kiyoomi start to sweat. “I think we should skip to the consummation-of-marriage part. Right now.”

“Like, right now, right now?” Kiyoomi’s eyes are closed too, eyelids pressed shut like he’s dreaming. The faint smile on his face tells you that he is.

“Yes, like, right now, right now, right now.” You grin, making quick work of undoing the buttons of his now-wrinkled shirt.

“Okay.” He smiles harder, eyes still closed. Your fingers are moving so fast, “That tickles.”

It takes all of your focus to slip the ivory buttons through the narrow silk slits. You fumble with the same button repeatedly, your head so disconnected from your body. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first crawled into his lap, nor can you even recall how you ended up in bed with him.

You can feel your fingers moving, but you aren’t sure how to control the movement. You give up with a huff, “This isn’t working.”

“I can always keep my shirt on,” Kiyoomi hums, lifting his hands to fidget with the buttons of your pants. You’re straddling him in the way that makes his heart hammer in his chest, looking up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, “This, however, must be done away with.”

This would have been romantic if he could actually get your pants off. Unfortunately for both of you, Kiyoomi struggles equally as hard, the buttons of your dress pants can’t seem to stay in his grip. With a sigh, his hands drop. It takes everything in you to not laugh out loud.

He’s quiet when he asks, “Does the bed feel like it's rocking for you, too?”

“Yeah,” you decide, resting your hands on his covered stomach, where you didn’t quite make it far enough with the buttons, “I’m very drunk.”

“I’m very drunk, too.”

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” You reach to poke his cheek. He catches your hand before you can make it, pulling it to his lips to kiss your palm softly.

“I’m so drunk I don’t even care.”

“This was a terrible dress rehearsal.” You pull away your hand in favor of touching his hair. It was meant to annoy him, as Kiyoomi hates people messing with his curls, but he preens at the attention all the same, “It’s the night before our wedding and we didn’t even fuck.”

With one swift motion, Kiyoomi opens up his arms to pull you into his chest, then rolls over to trap you underneath him. He lands an obnoxious wet kiss on your cheek, smiling softly to himself at the sound of your laughing, “We’ll make up for it tomorrow night.”

You huff and push his face away. He nibbles at your fingers drunkenly. “Whatever.”

“Thanks for marrying me, by the way.”

“Whatever.”

Miya A [11:47]: WHERE ARE YOU Miya A [11:47]: WE CAN'T HAVE A BACHELOR PARTY WITH NO BACHELOR Miya A [00:13]: AND NOW NOBODY CAN FIND Y/N Miya A [00:20]: you fucking freaks i should have known you two would run away together Miya A [00:30]: THIS IS THE LAST TIME I DO ANYTHING NICE FOR YOU Miya A [00:30]: 🖕🖕🖕

hiiii so im not dead! just rly busy w classes/work/internships!

but i have a couple short stories like this that im gonna put out every week for fluff-tober! so uhhhh maybe i'll make a masterlist for that idk

love as always, niko

#sakusa fanfiction #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi #msby sakusa #haikyuu #msby #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa

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darthannie · 1 year ago

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For the request Jonathan crane plus somnophilia? Idk he just feel like that kind of person.

a/n: Anon, I can’t tell if this was for kinktober or not (I assume it is?) but I don’t care because I need this in my life. Jonathan Crane Use Me Challenge.

nap time

Jonathan Crane x f!reader

Warnings: Somnophilia, slight face fucking

You hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts for hours and Jonathan was beginning to worry about your well-being. He knew it was silly, but Gotham was a dangerous place and he didn’t know what he’d do if something bad happened to his precious little thing.

When he finally got to your shared apartment, he dropped his things by the door and went to look for you. You weren’t on the couch or in the kitchen. The bathroom was empty so that left the bedroom. He opened the door quietly and hoped to see you in there.

What he didn’t expect was for you to be sound asleep on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow. He couldn’t help but notice what you were wearing as well. A black silk slip hugged your body, and the way your leg was bent showed that you decided to go to bed without any underwear.

He got a perfect view of your pussy. It was glistening from earlier when you fucked yourself to the thought of Jonathan taking you on the kitchen counter. Your orgasm hit you so hard it knocked you out. Now you were asleep, and practically begging him to fuck you.

Jonathan slipped in silently and took off his jacket, putting it on the side of the bed. He didn’t know where to touch you first. He had no moral qualms about doing this without you knowing. The thought of you being blissfully unaware turned him on more than anything ever had.

He walked up to you and snapped his fingers a couple of times right next to your ear to see if you stirred. You didn’t budge. Jonathan paced for a moment, then decided not to waste any more time. He lifted up the bit of fabric that was still covering your ass. He caressed your smooth skin before grabbing lightly. He took his hand away and watched your face before moving his fingers towards your entrance. He started with one, and seeing how easily one finger went in, he added another.

If he had known you would be this wet in your sleep he would’ve done this ages ago. As much as he liked you awake, he couldn’t help but enjoy how easy it was to use your body. He wanted to toy with your limp body and play around with your pussy more than he already had, but he needed to be inside you as soon as possible.

He started palming himself through his pants and slowly dragged your leg down til you lay flat on your stomach. Then he began to flip you over. He started with your shoulders and arms, and then finally got to your hips. He moved and took his hands away abruptly when you rearranged yourself on your back. Perfect, thought Jonathan.

He took off his pants and underwear and stroked his cock at the sight of you. He kneeled on the bed and put his cock against your lips as he jacked himself off. There was no indication on your face that you even felt the bed dip. He tossed his head back and held in a moan as he felt your soft lips on him.

This wasn’t enough for him, he needed to see how long it would take for you to wake up with him inside you. He positioned your legs in a way that would allow him easy access to your dripping cunt.

You were not quite asleep, and yet not awake. You could feel Jonathan’s hands fixing themselves on your hips as he sunk inside you. He was slow about it, careful. He was holding himself over you as he watched to see when you would wake up.

His slow thrusts only lasted for a few moments before your eyelids started to flutter.

“There she is,” he whispered.

You grabbed his arms and moaned at the feeling of him beginning to speed up. Now that you were awake there was no need for him to be careful.

You were still in a sleepy daze when you asked “Jonathan, how long have you been-“

He groaned, “Not too long. I couldn't resist fucking you after playing with your pretty pussy.”

He shifted his weight and hit a deeper spot inside you. The new angle took your breath away. He leaned down to kiss you as his pace quickened.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said.

“Me neither,” you blurted out.

He moaned at the feeling of you squeezing him. He began to slow down, but you felt him much deeper than before. Both of you were a mess.

Jonathan was still reeling from his power trip of using you while you were asleep and you were still coming to terms with the fact your boyfriend would use you in such a way. It didn’t matter though, you felt too good to question his judgment.

You came as he rubbed your clit. Before you got a chance to regulate your breathing he said “Darling, I need you to sit still and open your mouth, okay?”

You nodded and he pulled out of you. You sat up and stayed still just as he had asked. He put his hand on your chin to prompt your jaw to drop. He put his cock in your mouth and you closed your lips around him. He gave a couple of sloppy thrusts before coming in your mouth.

“Swallow. All of it,” he demanded.

The taste of him in your mouth made you moan. You savored every second of it. He pulled out and sat next to you, pulling you in close to his side.

You put your head on his shoulder and sighed, “Warn a girl next time?”

He kissed the top of your head and said, “Not a chance.”

#annie’s asks #annie writes #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #dark jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #i proofread this but no one is perfect

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jasminsstories · 11 months ago

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How finals week with Zayne by your side would be…probably:

gn!reader x zayne / fluff; just for fun, don’t take this seriously pls

will try to support you as much as he can, since he knows best how hard studying is

“I told you to start earlier than to cram the material in the last minute. It won’t stick in your long-term memory this way” “Zayne, I don’t care if it sticks in my long-term memory as long as I pass this exam”

“Come here and eat this before continuing”

Basically drags you daily to the kitchen table where he prepared healthy meals

“But why do only I have carrots in my salad?” “Because you need Vitamin B to stay fit for your exams” “Just say you gave all of your carrots to me, because you don’t like them!”

“If you continue to drink so much coffee, I am afraid I will see you in the ER soon because of arrhythmia… and I don’t want that” “Zayne, you can’t just hide my coffee machine!!”

opens the windows regularly to help you concentrate and makes sure you stay hydrated

definitely will try to lure you out for walks to get some steps in

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see the sunset?” “I do, I really want… but I have to get this done today” “Let’s go, you need some Vitamin D” *suddenly lifts you up bridal style* “Hey, let me down!!” *acts like he doesn’t hear you*

the more time passes and the deeper the night gets with every passing minute, you can’t stop yawning and rubbing your heavy eyelids; still you try to focus them on your bright notebook screen

“Go to sleep. You have to get enough sleep to function tomorrow as well” “I can’t afford to sleep now. Sleep can wait, the deadline for my essay won’t”

tries to get you to bed through various methods

first tries to make it less obvious and wants to make you jealous through your plushies

“Then Mr. Snowman will have to cuddle with me today..” “Mhmmm”

But quickly realizes that it doesn’t work and you don’t react to it

for his second try he sneaks up to you from behind and puts his hands on your waist, pressing a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear, whispering a tempting “Come to bed with me”

you try to stay strong though and ignore his attempt with the last endurance you have

the next time he comes up to your desk for his third attempt, he finds you asleep already, your face planted on the surface of your desk

he can’t hold back a chuckle and a fond glow is in his orbs as he gazes at your face; just looks at you for some minutes

carefully picks you up and carries you to bed, trying his hardest not to wake you up; whispers a “Good night, my angel” and gives your forehead a small kiss

tucks you to bed and will lay down beside you to watch you sleep

when you wake up the next morning you begin to panic because you weren’t able to pull the all-nighter you desperately needed to finish on time

“Breathe, Love. Don’t worry. You can do it, I know it”

“I look kinda like a Panda now with my dark circles, don’t I?” “Yeah…kinda. Maybe more like a raccoon”

when you are finally done with all of your exams and your essays, he will pat your head and smile proudly; “Good job, I knew you can do it”

with a relieved sigh you press a loving kiss on his lips

and now you can finally get revenge for the times he teased you

just the brain rot i have in my finals week. i am quite literally losing my marbles right now, so i needed some zayne fluff. did i write this instead of studying…maybe. i need this man so bad. actually working on a smut atm but since its been so long since i wrote one, it’s hard for me to get into the flow right now.

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne fanfic #zayne x you

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vampiretendencies · 2 years ago

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happy to see u back<33

thinking about jj loving sleeping in your bed in your room because it’s just his safe place and he feels so loved

kook!fem!reader, mention of luke

i somehow didn’t see this one and now that i have i’m so giddy i love this.

of course jj has a unanimous rep on kildare, fathers keep him away from their daughters and mothers shoo him before he even gets the chance to. if he’s luke’s kid he must have some of the same qualities right ?

wrong.

so terribly wrong. though he may be a bit of a kleptomaniac, he’s attentive, tender, and warm-hearted. expressive when need be.

he also just eternally worshiped the ground his captivating kook girlfriend walked on.

finding solace in the grace of your existence and faltered when you were absent. that’s the probable reasoning that he sneaks past your window, as he typically did. a memorable trope that jj never once thought he’d be living, kook girls couldn’t quite subside his appetite. you just did it for him, everytime.

he lie there in the clean, delicate linen sheets of your bed. a queen sized bed, not a match for the twin sized one he’s known all his life. tanned skin tucked neatly beneath them, he fit so perfectly. he belonged.

and it smelled like you. it smelled alluring— drags you in and makes you want to stay there endlessly. thick to his senses like honey, with hints of saccharine fresh vanilla. amicable really, that you’ve wooed him so. not even a newly opened beer, or a just-rolled blunt could compare to this.

jj can’t remember a time in his life that he’s felt this protected from harm or danger— he’s safe.

you agree upon entering your room, taking in the image of him snuggling your little brown bear to his chest. lips plump and parted, with bits of drool falling slowly past them. like a small child that’s recovering from a nightmare, but jj’s only nightmare right now is his life. the only part of it that resembled a dream was you. you don’t care that your father might walk in and see the two of you in the morning, and you don’t care that he might shove his foot in jj’s ass.

like clockwork you throw down your belongings, stripping yourself down. magnetically you cling onto to him, noses barely touching, his hushed breath on your lips. he doesn’t have to lift an eyelid to know, the other half of his heart is beside him now. his muscles relax more somehow, and as if it’s a reflex he pecks at your cupids bow slowly and full of sleep.

“needed a way to feel you, so i came here. didn’t know where you were, i couldn’t find you baby—“

God, he loved you with such a love even he couldn’t understand at times.

“sleep j, there’s always tomorrow we can talk about it then.”

yeah tomorrow wasn’t promised, though it begun to feel guaranteed high on infatuation like this.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank smut #jj maybank angst #jj maybank concepts #jj maybank imagines

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untoldstar · 13 days ago

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gn yandere vampire x gn reader part 2 comfort after an exhausting day

part 1

you’re at your desk working on your next assignment, it’s already past two in the morning but you need to make this deadline. You’re extremely aware of your twitching eyelid and the dark circles under your eyes as well as the mess that is your hair but you can’t bother at this point.

A soft barely noticeable thud comes from behind you where your window is, you don’t flinch nor do you turn around to see who it is. You already know. Valerian has been visiting you frequently, since you’re extremely busy the entire day they pop up late at night to chat and trick you in a perfectly calculated way to get in bed and rest “Still working are you?” you hum in agreement “I’m almost done though.” They sigh exasperated “Honestly what is it with you humans and pushing yourselves completely to your limit?” you snort “There are many reasons for that I guess.” While you type away they plop down on your mattress while staring at your figure, their eyes landing on the coffee pot sitting on your desk “Tell me you’ve eaten already and you haven’t been relying on coffee instead of food again?” Their tone is pressing, clearly they’ve scolded you for this before “I have.” You sound offended at the notion but Valerian sees right through it “Don’t you dare lie to me.” They sigh again “You humans are hopeless.” You finally hit submit and slam your laptop shut stretching your arms over your head and groaning, how long have you been sitting in that same awful position?

Valerian perks up “Finally! It’s quite rude to leave a guest waiting like that you know.” You give them a look. First, they climb in through the window every time so technically they’re a trespasser not a guest and second, this isn’t the first time they waited for you to finish whatever task you had on your hands. You hate to make them wait because you like spending time with them, surprisingly considering the first time they met you they wanted to suck you dry, but duty calls.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my face and I’ll be back just gimme a few minutes.” You turn to leave your room not waiting for their reply. Once you return your cup and pot of coffee have been cleared, the lights are off save for the lamp on your bedside table, and the blanket on your side of the bed is lifted waiting for you. You look at Valerian a mix gratitude and amusement swimming in your eyes “You don’t have to do that you know.” You take a few steps and plop down face first on your mattress, groaning as your body begins to relax. You missed your bed so much you felt the urge to cry out in happiness “You look more dead than I do. Thought I’d spare you all of that and just have you head straight to bed.” They cover you with the blanket and tuck you in as they speak, taking a seat by your side. Now in this vulnerable position you’re reminded that a literal vampire is tucking you into bed.

You sound insane but it’s true. You wonder if they still think of you as prey “What worries you?” You lift your head up and look at them confused then remember vampires can sense these things “Do you..still want kill me? You know like the first time we met.” They look completely baffled by question “Nonsense, you truly think I’d let you live this long? If I wanted to I would’ve sucked you dry a long time ago.” Brutal but a comfort nonetheless “Besides I….have grown rather fond of you tolerate you.” They give a satisfied smile at their careful choice of words and you stare at them unblinking for a few seconds before grinning and nudging their shoulder “Nahh come on you love me!” You tease and they scoff swatting your hands away “Enough! Now close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll be here.” You hum contentedly and begin to drift off, your heart swollen with gratitude to your new deadly companion. It might be the exhaustion making you imagine thing but you could’ve swore you felt delicate cold hands gently brushing your hair as you dozed off.

The next morning you wake up with no Valerian in your room. When you head to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast you find a steaming spread already set on the table. The smell making your mouth water. It’s definitely too fancy to be made with ingredients you had in your fridge or ones you could afford. Your heart warms at their kindness (one which they refuse to admit they have) and make a mental note to thank them the next time you see them before wolfing down your food.

Too busy with your food you don’t notice Valerian stepping out of the shadows and making their way to your bedroom window with a soft smile, they speak softly to themselves before climbing out “See you tonight..”

#yandere oc #yandere vampire #oc #yandere blog #yandere drabble #yandere imagine #yandere comfort #yandere comforting you #yandere x reader #gn yandere #gn reader #obsessive yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere themes #cute yandere #valerian #yandere valerian

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twodogs-twocats · 7 months ago

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Taste Me (Sleep Token's Vessel x fem pov) 18+, NSFW

You have a rather gory nightmare about your boyfriend Vessel. Upon waking, Vessel comforts you by drawing inspiration from the nightmare itself. Inspired by the song "Sugar."

Warnings: SMUT - 18+, Minors DNI. Oral, gore, cannibalism, bondage, scary scenarios.

I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for awhile. Sugar is one of my favorite songs, gets me super inspired 😉

We still know how to bleed.

I woke slowly, my consciousness settling bit by bit. A cold, flat surface pressed into my back, but the chill of it was not quite enough to pull me out of my stupor. My eyes remained shut, heavy and dry from sleep.

I took in a shuddering breath. A strange warmth permeated my chest, sort of like I was melting. In fact, my whole body felt wrong, weightless and incorporeal. My mind scrambled to figure out why I had not woken up in my bed, but it couldn’t grasp anything solid. Everything felt foggy, just beyond the realm of understanding.

I unglued my tongue from the roof of my mouth, licking apart my lips. Cautiously, I wiggled my fingers, trying to summon some energy to my limbs. My bones, however, creaked in protest.

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you.” The voice came from somewhere behind me. I attempted to tilt my head toward the voice, immediately bringing on a wave of nausea.

“I need you to stay still so you can keep marinating, my love.”

Vessel? I knew that voice better than anything. I relaxed slightly. If Vessel was here, then I was okay.

“Vessel, where are you?” I mumbled in a gravely voice. Even speaking brought about a soreness deep in my chest. “What is going on? Where am I?” Marinating?

A shuffle of fabric, followed by the creak of floorboards.

“My love, you are so, so sweet.” His voice was closer now, like he was standing above me. “I needed to taste you. And not just your soft lips, your gentle breath — I needed more. I am quite addicted to you, you know?”

A chill ran down my spine and at that moment I realized I was completely naked. The cool air whispered along my bare skin. I tried to move my hands again, but it felt like something was holding my wrists captive to the surface underneath me. I began to struggle against the restraints, yet every movement sent a jolt of pain through my body. Panic set in.

“I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Vessel continued. His voice was low, dripping with a feral sensuality. “I tried to make sure you wouldn’t feel a thing. I only wanted a taste. But then I had more, and more, and more.” Behind my closed lids, I could now feel his warm breath on my face.

“Vessel, what are you talking about?” My chin trembled. “Where am I? Why can’t I move?” A tear escaped my eyelids, sliding down my cheek. “I don’t feel good.”

“Do not cry beautiful.” He said, wiping my tear away. “Come, let me show you just how much I crave you.”

I felt his fingers brush across my eyelids, using the moisture of my tears to slowly lift my lids open. At first the light above me burned, and I squinted against the glare. Little by little, the room came into focus.

I was in my dining room. I could tell by the dusty chandelier above me. So the surface I was laying on must be my dining table… which made absolutely no sense.

Vessel appeared just off to my right, handsome as always. As I took him in, I noticed there was more red on him than normal. In fact, almost all the exposed skin of his face and chest was covered in thick rivulets of red liquid. It looked like blood.

“You are truly a delicacy,” he whispered, his teeth bared slightly. “In fact, you’ve spoiled me. I had thought I would save the best for last, but I just couldn’t resist. It was just so… tempting.”

Vessel now held his hand out towards me, his fingers wrapped around something thick, round, and red. The same red liquid that coated Vessel’s face dripped off the object, falling to the floor. It looked like some sort of raw meat. Bile rose in my throat. Whatever it was, he had been eating it. My Vessel, eating something so -

“Thoroughly delicious. That is what you are.”

The thing in his hand was moving rhythmically. Thump thump, like a beating heart.

And then it hit me, everything falling into place. My breath came in gasps, my head ached, sweat pooled under my shoulders. With all this panic, this confusion, my heart should have been pounding too. But instead my heart was utterly quiet. I became cold as ice, as I pulled my gaze away from Vessel and looked down at my chest.

Where there should have been skin, there was a gaping hole, running from the bottom of my throat to the top of my belly button. Sticking out of my chest like blood-covered trees were my upper ribs, as though they had been broken and forced apart. My lungs were there, frantically expanding and contracting amidst the gore. But where there should have been a heart, there was nothing.

My heart, utterly devoured by Vessel.

“I can’t give you up now, my love.” He smiled a bloody smile. “I’ve developed a taste for you.”

I screamed.

We still know how to feed.

I shot upright in bed, struggling to catch my breath. Frantically, I brought my hands to my chest. There it was, the strong, rhythmic beat of my heart.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Vessel sat up next to me, turning on the bedside lamp. I flinched away from him as the light hit his face, and his eyes immediately flooded with concern.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” He held his hand out towards me, just far enough to let me close the distance. My Vessel. The one I love, a gentle voice in my head whispered. My body slowly relaxed and I let out a big sigh. Vessel would never hurt me. It was just a bad dream. I took his hand and allowed him to pull me into his lap. His broad chest pressed into my back as he wrapped his arms around me.

“You’re okay, everything is okay.” He whispered into my hair. The warmth of his breath sent waves of ease down my spine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was just a bad dream. You- you were in it,” I spoke shyly, nervous to admit how afraid of him I had been. “You were… eating me.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “And why is that bad dear? Was I that bloody dreadful at it?”

I chuckled. He always knew how to make me feel better. “No, not like that. You were eating me alive. You had me all tied up and cut open. And you were eating my heart. It was pretty awful.”

He pulled me tighter. “I’m so sorry love. It was just a dream. You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” I said, nuzzling into his chest.

We sat quietly for some time as I filled him in on some of the more vivid details of my dream. He ran his hands along my arms and my back, laughing lightly at some of the more absurd bits. Gradually I found myself laughing too. My dream was already fading into the void where dreams go.

“Just so you know, while I may not be eating you alive anytime soon” he smirked, “I do still find you quite addicting.” His fingers softly grasped my chin as he pulled my face to his. Rather that his typical ornate white mask, he usually wore a soft cotton mask to bed. His chin was still left exposed, and my gaze settled on his lips as they formed a slow smile. “I don’t want your last thought of me before bed to be me as some sort of psychotic cannibal. Allow me to make a better impression.”

My hand lightly traced the lines of his chest and abdomen. The image of him eating me on the dining table flashed into my mind, but somehow, rather than making me afraid, I felt a yearning in my core.

He leaned his face towards me and I brought my mouth to his. The kiss started gently, like he was asking a question. As much as Vessel claimed to be addicted to me, it was nothing compared to my voracious desire for him. I turned to face him fully, coming to straddle his lap. I knew he understood my answer when he ran his hands through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as his lips pressed more forcefully into mine. I felt his tongue travel along my mouth, and I parted my lips to let him in. The taste of him fully consumed me as he explored.

His large hands began to travel down my back until he found my ass. Fingers digging in, he pulled me closer to him. I felt his cock beneath his black boxers, already hard and pressing against me. My low belly started to burn with anticipation. I rocked my hips back and forth, grinding against his length, encouraging his arousal. His fingers tightened their grip as he moaned into my mouth.

Before I knew it, he had flipped me onto my back, pushing my oversized t-shirt up to reveal my naked body. “I really could eat you,” he chuckled deeply. Only Vessel could turn something so terrifying into something so incredibly sexy.

He began to trail kisses down my body, lingering at each of my nipples as he pulled them into his mouth with a soft bite. I gasped at the wetness of his tongue. The kisses continued all the way down to my thighs, where he took the sensitive flesh of my legs between his teeth.

My hips bucked, wanting more, wanting his mouth on me. “My my, aren’t you hungry?” He growled. I whimpered in response. “Let me show you how hungry I am too.”

Vessel’s mouth met the wetness between my legs. His tongue trailed between the folds, sucking, biting, kissing. He slipped his tongue inside of me, moaning at my taste. Every movement of his was intended to please. His strong arms pushed my legs farther apart as he took my clit in his mouth. I cried out at the intense feeling, trying to pull away, but he held me firmly in place. He brought one hand back to my breasts, his thumb circling my nipples, overwhelming me with sensation. I felt heat building as I approached orgasm. If this is what it felt like to be consumed by Vessel, then it was no nightmare. It was euphoria.

“Good girl,” he said, his breath hot against me. “But I know you can give me more.” He quickly brought his mouth back, resuming his feast. Stars flashed across my vision as I came, my back arching away from the bed. He continued to taste me through my orgasm, relishing every moment.

As I slumped back into the bed, I watched Vessel lick his lips, delighting in my taste. Seeing how much he enjoyed me led to another wave of arousal. I always needed more of him. He must have seen this in my eyes, for he started to crawl back up towards me. His lips met mine for a kiss, and I tasted myself on him.

“Don’t worry my love.” He grinned down at me, a trail of sweating traveling down his bare chest. “I always come back for seconds.”

#sleep token #writing #sleep token fanfiction #vessel #vessel fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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draculasfavoritewife · 6 months ago

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El Hambre (Hunger)

Summary: Getting Miguel to take a break is a full-time job unto itself, and requires a little extra incentive.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Spider!Reader

Warnings: Lots of suggestive talk. Miguel being an ass hehe. A risky make-out in a public space, idiots in love CANNOT keep their hands to themselves. I put far too much of my descriptive powers into talking about how devastatingly sexy Miguel is. Also for my intents and purposes, Reader understands and speaks Spanish.

Note: I use the shortened version of his name "Mique" in my own writing just because I personally prefer it. Swap it with whatever nickname you prefer in your head :)

This is one of my personal favorite pieces I've written, and still makes me giggle like an evil maniac whenever I return to reread/edit it. I have shamelessly watched every Miguel scene in ATSV far too many times and will continue to do so; his image is already tattooed on the backs of my eyelids. As mentioned in my HCs, reader is a spider-hero, but I left her pretty vague on purpose -- feel free to fill in her costume/powers/skill set with your own spidersona!

*Spanish translations at the end! (I am fairly bilingual, but if I made a lil mistake here or there do forgive me)

He hasn’t turned away from his myriad glowing monitor screens in nearly ten minutes, standing like a damn statue with his feet wide apart and hands braced on his trim hips, only lifting to sharply swipe through any screens that serve him no purpose. Each tiny shift of weight, the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes, all the little things that prove he is still, in fact, alive, cast soft highlights over the swell and dip of taut muscle, every part of him coiled and ready to explode into action like the perfect hunting machine he is.

Right now, though, his eyes are burning from overexposure to even the dim interior of his watch station, and with an annoyed sigh he turns his face to the side, long fingers rubbing furiously at where the bridge of his nose meets his brow in the hope of chasing away the dull ache gnawing there.

“You do know that even though I don’t have spider-sense I can still hear you, right?”

You let go of your strand of web and drop lightly to the platform behind him, pulling off your mask and tucking it away. “What gave me away, the sound of me drooling as I stared too long?”

Shocking hell.

You’re in one of those moods.

Miguel can’t quite decide if he’s too tired for this right now or if he’s curious how far you’ll try and push him on his home turf. And it’s that indecision that starts him digging his own grave.

“I was going to say the way your heartbeat spikes every time you set foot in this room.” His voice comes out sweet and thick as honey, because he knows exactly what that tone does to you when he uses it.

“...And I can still smell my clothes on you. Did you sleep in my shirt again?”

“Maybe.”

Actually, you’d fallen asleep in a veritable pile of his clothes — it had been a bit since he’d had a free night, okay, and you weren’t desperate you just missed him.

That makes him chuckle. He can probably tell you’re omitting the whole truth.

Miguel finally turns to fully face you, and you inhale quickly as always, at the way he towers so far above your head, how his wide shoulders block out the light from his screens so his silhouette swallows you in darkness. His hair is messy, and there are deep shadows under his eyes, but his pretty mouth is slanted in a wry grin and the set of his thick eyebrows hints at underlying amusement.

“Cute,” is what he remarks at your wide blinking eyes and rapidly heating skin, and it makes him smirk wickedly, to see how that one word flusters you for the barest of seconds. You’ve told him multiple times that you hate being called “cute” by anybody else, but ever since the first time the word slipped past his lips when he really realized just how much smaller you were underneath his body….

Well, he knows the effect it can have.

You scowl and regain your composure. “Don’t call me that.”

Miguel’s only response is an easy shrug, a lift of one shoulder. “What’d you bring me?” He nods at the containers in your hands.

“Entitled prick.” With a dramatic flourish, you whip them away from his claw-tipped fingers. “What makes you think these are for you?” The exchange is back in your court with his query, and you intend to keep it there.

“Aren’t they always?” Dark eyes zero in on yours, their softness in the gloom betraying what the gesture means to him even if he won’t say it.

With a huff, you thrust the thermos and small box into his chest, pretending you don’t keenly notice the way the impact sends a ripple through his impressive pectorals. “Coffee. And those stupid little empanadas you love so much.”

“Not stupid.” He takes them from your grasp much more delicately than someone with hands so large should be able to. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a single craving for subpar food? Keeps me human.”

He’s baiting you, knows that the words “not since I tasted you” are on the very tip of your tongue, because that’s just how your dirty mind works and he loves it. Can see the struggle on your face as you resolve not to say them aloud, and that almost goads him on more, to know you’re thinking it and just barely holding out so he doesn’t get the upper hand again quite yet.

You settle yourself on a nearby console and gaze expectantly at him, swinging your legs.

He gives you the side-eye as he sets your offerings down next to his work station.

“What.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you eat something,” you inform him sweetly.

Miguel groans. “Ay, loca, no eres mi madre. I’ll eat when I’m done running these last projections, okay?”

You obstinately sit cross-legged on the console and make a show of getting comfortable for the long haul. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, Handsome. I meant what I said.”

He glares.

You glare back.

Finally he opens the box with painstaking slowness — you see the way his nostrils flare at the scent of hot food, though you know he’d deny it — and he takes a large bite, maintaining eye contact the entire time he chews and swallows, each motion dripping with mockery. His tongue runs across the length of his upper lip far too sensually to be accidental, and you just catch the points of his fangs glinting in the partial darkness.

“Better?” he drawls, dropping the empanada back in its container and leaning towards you.

“That was one miserable bite! Doesn’t count.”

His lip curls in a taunting sneer, and before you know what’s happening one of his powerful arms is on either side of you, his head cocked to one side as he studies you through half-lidded eyes. “Maybe your ears don’t work, Sweetheart. Tú no eres mi madre. ¿Comprendes?”

You decide to change tactics. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go. But —“ you gently push a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead, pausing to kiss the stress lines between his eyebrows. “— when was the last time you slept, Mique?”

He rolls his eyes. “This morning —“

“For more than twenty minutes.”

That makes him think. And by the way his gaze guiltily slides away from yours, he knows you won’t like the answer. “…When was the last time I stayed with you?”

You sigh and cradle his strong jaw in your hands, thumbs massaging soft circles into his skin to get him to unclench his teeth. “That was four nights ago, Mique.”

A long exhale escapes him, and he rests his head against your chest. It warms you, that he feels safe enough in the moment to let down his guard and actually show such intimate affection in his workspace.

Or maybe he’s just that tired.

Either way, you’ll take it.

You start working his back and shoulder muscles, kneading deeply into the firm knots where you know he holds onto everything — anger, grief, guilt, worry — Miguel does not talk through the mess in his head, preferring instead to let it fuel his savage strength. But when the adrenaline at last wears off, you know the toll it can take on his body.

A sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and altogether far too suggestive for the time and place, rolls from deep in his chest and his hands tighten on the edge of the console, metal protesting as his talons curl into the hard surface. “Mierda. That’s tight.”

“Should I stop?” You can’t quite tell if his reactions are spurred more by pain or pleasure.

With Miguel, the two often travel hand-in hand, anyway.

“No.” To your disbelief, his hands uncurl from where they’re sunk into the console and travel to find your legs, teasing them apart so he can shove himself even closer and you have nowhere else to put them than around his waist, your heels resting just above his ass. “Keep going. Feels good.”

“Someone’s touchy today, huh? And not in the usual way,” you tease, and then suddenly yelp as his hot, searching mouth lands right in the center of your chest, very noticeable through the thin material of your suit. One of his hands immediately clamps over your mouth to stifle any further sounds.

“Cállate, Chula,” he warns, finally raising his eyes to yours again. You can see the crimson starting to smolder through in his irises, a sure sign that he’s giving in to having you right here in front of him, that you just might be a better use of his time than his projected calculations of multiverse-wide collapse.

He could use a break.

“You know people can hear you.”

You push his hand aside. “Right, and that was totally way more audible than whatever sound you just made a minute ago.”

“You know how I feel about it when you’re a brat to me,” he growls, snagging your lower lip with his thumb.

“I think you love it,” you whisper, one of your own hands sliding up the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark hair.

“I think that disrespectful mouth needs to be put to better use.”

He hasn’t ever kissed you in his workspace before, and the forbidden feeling of it as he pushes you down on your back, pinning you to the console and stopping your mouth with his own sends a jolt down the entire length of your spine. Miguel has always been a wild kisser when he’s properly worked up, and you gasp out loud as his sharp teeth nip your lip, immediately followed by his tongue soothing the momentary sting.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hums as he at last lets your mouths break apart.

“You didn’t say you were gonna bite me, Cariño!”

His answering smile is a wider one than you’ve seen in days. “Why would you ever assume no biting with me, Baby?”

“…Fair point.”

It takes you a minute to realize his fingertips are teasing the neck of your suit down bit by bit, leaving more and more of your throat exposed. “¿Qué haces, Mique?”

He shushes you, this kiss a little more romantic and drawn out than the last. “You said you’d sit here ’til I ate something, hmm?”

“Y-yes….”

His gaze burns dark red and you suddenly feel the entire weight of him trapping you in place.

“Well lucky you, pretty girl — you look a lot tastier than a cafeteria empanada right now.”

He keeps one hand over your mouth as he attacks your neck, your shoulders, your wrists, anywhere that he knows gets a shiver out of you and that you’ve told him he can leave a mark. You try to keep still, you really do, but it's almost impossible with the Spanish endearments he mutters in your ears and the way his lips, teeth, and tongue take you on a seemingly endless rollercoaster of sensation. You hear him hiss once or twice when his onslaught makes your thighs tighten around his hips, but you can’t help it, can’t help trying to pull his body even closer, even though his heartbeat is already thundering against yours and your desperate breaths are rocking his lungs.

When he finally uncovers your mouth again to let you take in more air, you splay your hands across his wide chest, prodding at the nearly-nonexistent layer of his digital suit. “Off.”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he murmurs regretfully, and to your dismay, he suddenly releases you, picking up the coffee you brought him and swearing briefly in Spanish when he realizes it’s not as hot as he wanted anymore. “They’re looking for you.”

You sit up quickly at the sound of youthful voices echoing faintly in the corridors but getting closer — your spiderlings, no doubt, wondering what on earth took you so long bringing O’Hara his dinner. You’re a mess, you realize, hair disheveled and suit boasting several tears in unfortunate areas where his claws caught, the skin beneath already bruising wherever his mouth was.

“Catch your breath,” he advises around another bite of empanada, with all the smug tone of a life coach having just witnessed a breakdown (as if he wasn’t the sole cause of that breakdown). “You’ll need it, to explain away all of that.”

“I hate you, Miguel O’Hara.” You grit your teeth and slide off of his equipment, halfheartedly readjusting yourself and tamping down the rising tide of desire he had the audacity to start. “You and that fancy body glove of yours.”

“Just because no one can see what your nails have done to my back doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he offers flippantly, as if that will do anything to fix your current state. “And I know by ‘hate’ you really mean ‘violently need me to make up for stopping short’. I have to come by for some of my missing clothes later anyway.”

Hope blossoms in your chest. “You’re coming over tonight?”

A thoughtful sip of coffee. “Unless LYLA kills me first for making her watch us go at it. I’ll pick something up for dinner, too. And who knows….” He steps closer, his free hand wandering from your back all the way down to your thigh and up again. “Maybe, if you tire me out real good, I’ll even get some sleep like you want?”

Anticipation bubbles through your veins at the thought.

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

He gives your hip a sharp squeeze. “Atta girl.”

A burst of chatter below heralds the arrival of your little clan of doting spider-kids, so you gather your wits and swing down to meet them, praying none of them put two and two together and actually get four.

Miguel glances over the edge of the platform, and barely hides his satisfaction and amusement at the immediate flood of concern and questions that greets you: “What did this to you?! Are you okay?!”.

He almost considers coming down there and setting the record straight when he hears you say, “It’s okay, Kids, really, don’t worry about it. Just got chomped a few times by a giant angry spider while I was on a mission. But he’s gonna pay for it next time, I swear.”

No eres mi madre = You're not my mother

¿Comprendes? = Understand?

Mierda = (Expletive)

Cállate, Chula = Be quiet, Cutie

Cariño = Honey, Sweetheart

¿Qué haces? = What are you doing?

123 notes · View notes