#wise x male reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

die-die-mydarling-xx · 2 years ago

Note

Since your taking requests would you mind doing nsfw one with Bottom Thomas x Top male Reader where the scenario is like reader was captured for meat and is in the basement with Thomas.

I don't have a ton of experience writing top reader but I've been excited to get to this one >:)

Thomas Hewitt x Top! Male! Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Blood and Gore, y'know. They be killing people

This got WAY longer than expected lol hope you enjoy!

As you came to your senses, you immediately noticed the throbbing pain in your head and a distinct soreness in your arms. The last thing you remembered before now was getting cracked over the head with the butt of a pistol by the particularly rude sheriff who had pulled you over in the middle of nowhere. Okay, maybe you'd been going a little too fast, but nothing that warranted this kind of treatment . . .

As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized you were dangling by your wrists a good few feet above the ground. That explained the soreness you could feel. Looking up, you could see that your wrists were bound together and the rope was strung over a rather large and wicked-looking meat hook. You could feel your heart starting to race in your chest, although by the maroon stains encrusting the majority of the hook's surface, you should consider yourself lucky that you were only hung by the rope around your wrists.

Looking around, you seemed to be in a basement; the room was dimly lit, with a set of stairs leading up in the corner. The space was cluttered, and specifics were hard to make out in the low light. But you could still tell the scene around you was straight out of a horror movie. All kinds of sharp implements littered every table, as well as what looked to be severed limbs and human bones. Where the hell were you?

You took a deep breath to try to steady yourself, knowing you had to at least try to come up with a plan. You studied the hook above your head. Considering the rope binding your wrists was only slung over the hook, maybe you could slip it right off . . .

Swinging your legs to build momentum, you heaved your body forward and up; for a moment, you thought the rope would slide right off the hook, but to your dismay it caught on the sharp tip. It took everything in you not to yell out in pain as gravity heaved the weight of your body back down. Your already aching shoulders protested as they pulled by the downward force. A small whimper escaped you, and you had to take several deep breaths to center yourself again. But you were so close, you knew you had to try again.

You swore it was the last of your strength this time as you once again swung yourself forward. This time, you felt the rope come free of the hook. You wanted to cry out victoriously, but you knew had to keep quiet. You fell to the ground, your fall broken by several inches of dirty water that covered the floor of the room. Luckily, it prevented the impact from being too hard, but it did make a loud splash as you landed. The smell of strange chemicals and other things you didn't want to think about assaulted your nose as the water soaked your clothes.

As you struggled to your feet, you could hear a commotion above you. There was the sound of someone yelling, and heavy footfalls-- you realized you recognized the voice. It was the sheriff. Cursing under your breath, you frantically looked around for somewhere to hide. You quickly ducked under a table as the door at the top of the stairs was flung open.

"--can't take a liking to 'im, make sure you get him good this time!" The sheriff was yelling, as the heavy footsteps continued down the stairs. There was only one pair of steps coming down the stairs. You wondered who the sheriff was talking to.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to try and quiet your panicked breathing as you saw a pair of legs passing the table you crouched under. You realized suddenly that whoever was in the basement now, it wasn't the sheriff-- this was someone else. As the strange man seemed to spot the empty meat hook, he began searching the basement for you. You didn't have much time now before you were found. You knew that he knew you were still in the basement; aside from the stairs, the only way out was a window that was too high and too small for you to escape out of.

As the legs disappeared from your view and the sounds of movement faded somewhat, you slowly crawled out the other side of the table. Standing, you spotted a meat cleaver on the table you'd been hiding under. You hastily snatched it up, cringing at the slightly tacky feel of the handle. With your hands still bound, you knew you wouldn't be able to wield it very effectively, but it was better than nothing.

Now that you were standing, you could see the man more clearly. You didn't think you could've been more terrified, but somehow you were at the sight of him. He was both tall and broad, not holding a weapon as far as you could see, but from the look of him he'd hardly need one. You dreaded the inevitable moment in which he'd spot you. The meat cleaver shook in your hands as you tried to slowly and quietly make your way towards your only option for escape: the stairs. Despite your best efforts, each step you took splashed quietly, and you'd only taken a few before the man turned around, locking eyes with you. You froze, holding the meat cleaver out in front of you with both hands.

You weren't expecting the bright, intense blue of the man's gaze as it locked with yours. It took you off guard for a second. The man was wearing what looked like a brown leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, making it hard to read his expression, but it didn't look like there was any malice or hatred in his eyes. In fact, he looked . . . almost intrigued as he watched you intensely. He started to advance towards you.

"I don't want to hurt you," you cried out, jabbing the cleaver at the air in front of you. "But I will if I have to!"

The man paused, looking you up and down. He didn't seem intimidated at your threats, not that you'd really expected him to. Even with the large knife you held, you weren't sure if you'd be able to overpower him. He started towards you again, and you tightened your grip on the cleaver. Suddenly, the words the sheriff had been shouting at him earlier sunk in. You had another plan.

"You don't want to do this, do you?" You said, feeling a little ridiculous to even say the words. The entire room around you said otherwise, but you were willing to try anything in that moment. "You don't want to . . . he's making you."

The man slowed, then stopped again. This time he seemed almost like he was struggling internally with something. He hadn't said a word this whole time, so you had to wonder if anything you were saying was really getting through to him. He began to slowly circle you, though he wasn't moving towards you anymore. You carefully kept him in your line of sight, not sure what he was trying to do now.

The door at the top of the stairs banged open, letting a weak beam of light into the basement. You could just make out a figure at the top of the stairs. "Tommy! Hurry it up down there!"

His words were drowned out by the roar of a chainsaw starting up, and you let out a cry of fear as you turned your attention back to the man in the basement. In the second you'd looked away, he'd managed to arm himself, and he wasted no time swinging the chainsaw at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the basement door swing shut, cutting off the little light it had let in. The cleaver was knocked easily from your hands.

You held your hands up in a vain attempt to protect your face. All you could hear was the buzz of the chainsaw, you could practically feel it as it neared you. Suddenly, you felt the rope around your wrists loosen, and you braced yourself for the cutting pain you were sure would follow. When several moments passed and nothing happened, you slowly lowered your arms and opened your eyes. The man-- Tommy?-- stood in front of you, that intense gaze still fixed on your face. The chainsaw still roared away, but he held it almost non-threateningly by his side. The rough rope fell away from your wrists, having been severed by the chainsaw blade. You rubbed at your sore wrists, still terrified, but more than that you were puzzled.

"You . . . aren't going to kill me?" You asked in surprise, watching as Tommy set the chainsaw back on one of the tables, the engine slowly sputtering out. He took a step closer to you, putting the two of you almost face to face, although you had to look up to meet his gaze. You flinched slightly as he suddenly reached out to touch your face. The touch was surprisingly gentle despite the rough, calloused feel of his palms and the strength evident in him. His hands skimmed over the contours of your face and into your hair. Despite the fear you still felt, the fact that he touched you so gently was sort of endearing. Without hardly thinking about it, you reached out to rest a hand on his forearm, feeling the muscles ripple under his skin. You swallowed hard.

A little hesitantly, you reached up to the mask he wore. He seemed startled for a moment, but didn't move to stop you. You carefully pulled it off his face, taking in the features underneath with surprise. Strangely, the man seemed to be lacking a nose-- and even more strangely, you still found him very attractive. When he leaned down towards you, you didn't hesitate to meet him halfway and press your lips together in a surprisingly tender kiss. He was somewhat lacking in technique, but it was more than made up for in enthusiasm. When you found yourself licking into his mouth, the low groan he let out had you gripping the fabric of the stained apron he wore.

One of his hands rested on the back of your head, gently tangling into your hair. You gripped Tommy's hip with your free hand, using the leverage to pull him closer to you. You were drinking in the low noises he made as you ground your hips into him. This wasn't just about staying alive; you found yourself enthralled by this strange man, and you wanted more.

He didn't put up any resistance as you pushed him back towards a relatively clear table. You only broke the kiss for a moment as you pushed him down onto the table. You were breathing hard, but this time it was from excitement rather than fear. The rollercoaster of emotions you'd been on had your head feeling like it was spinning, but it was strangely pleasant. You pressed your lips to Tommy's once again, hungrily this time, as your hands went to the zipper on his pants. You could clearly feel how hard he was already, even before you unzipped his pants to free his cock. It was so thick you could barely fit your hand around it, and the almost desperate moans he let out as you stroked him let you know he'd probably never done this before. The thought was exciting, making your own cock strain painfully in the confines of your pants. You quickly freed it with your spare hand, sighing in relief against Tommy's mouth as you stroked yourself a few times.

Pulling back from the kiss, you looked down at the man before you on the table. He was flushed, panting, and already leaking pre cum with your hand around his cock. The sight sent a jolt through you that made you rut your length against Tommy's still-clothed ass. You knew you needed to have him, and now.

You practically yanked his pants down to his ankles in your desperation, kneading his ass with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his cock. He was looking at you with those wide blue eyes, the expression so different from the one you'd seen not half an hour earlier. The thought made you smirk as you looked him over.

"You're doing so good for me," you murmured as you stroked a finger over his hole. He practically growled in response, thrusting his hips up into your hand. You pressed a hand flat against his hip, as if to hold him down, though if he didn't want to stay like that you knew you probably wouldn't be able to make him.

"Wait," you instructed in a firm tone, and you could see him swallow heavily in response. Carefully, you pushed a finger into him, starting to work him open. He let out a groan as you did so, squirming slightly on the table, but it was clear he was trying to do what you said. As you could feel him relaxing around you, you added another finger, then another. His thick cock was drooling pre cum onto his hip, and you thought he might cum before you even got yourself inside of him.

"Are you ready?" You asked in a low voice, almost shaking with the anticipation of being inside him. He gripped at you like he was trying to pull you closer, and though it looked like he was starting to fall apart, you could tell he was still trying not to hurt you. You pushed yourself inside him slowly but insistently, moaning in satisfaction as you bottomed out in him. Tommy's grip on you tightened, feeling almost painful, but you didn't care at that point as you started thrusting. He felt so good around you, his tight hole squeezing you perfectly. Picking up the pace of your thrusts, you knew it wouldn't be long before you reached your peak.

You leaned down to kiss him again, much more sloppily as your hips slapped against his. You started stroking and squeezing his cock in time with your thrusts, and from the grunts and groans he let out into your mouth, you could tell he wouldn't last much longer.

"Come on," you said low in his ear. "Cum for me."

That was all it took to send him over the edge, his cock twitching in your hand as he came. You could feel his spurts of cum paint your stomach, and the noise he made as he came along with the way he clenched around you was too much for you. You came inside him with a loud groan, feeling your own cum filling him as you sloppily thrust into him a few more times.

Exhausted from all the events of the past few hours, you collapsed against Tommy's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing under you as you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

#at least half of this is just Setting The Scene™#I'm a big fan of that #creative writing wise i actually have my background in horror . . . can you tell lol #the texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #the texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #x masc reader #x male reader #thomas hewitt imagine #thomas hewitt smut

155 notes · View notes

skulduggery-pleasant-bp9 · 9 months ago

Text

Playing with a Coroner and a Detective is not wise - Skulduggery x Male!Reader Universe

WARNING!: Working on corpses, a bit graphic, cutting open of bodies, organ removal, what Coroner’s usually do, cursing AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Part 11 - Inspections

Kenspeckle got out two Scalpels and gave one to M/n. He took it and carefully cut into one of the eyes. Black liquid started to leak out almost as soon as the eye was opened. M/n cringed. The only thing he hates was testing, inspecting and cutting open eyeballs...

“These...these are Necromancy remains.”, Kenspeckle informed.

“Looks like black ink to me...”, M/n muttered.

“Necromancy is black.”, Skulduggery answered.

“Is that how they died ?”, Ghastly asked.

Kenspeckle shook his head.

“No. This just means that Necromancy killed them. If Necromancy killed a person, it stays in the body and after a certain time, the eyes turn black and this will happen when you cut the eye open.”, the Doctor answered.

“So we need to find the place, the Necromancy hit most in the bodies. In other words...we have to cut them open and get all the organs out for further inspections...”, M/n stated dryly.

“Yes.”, Kenspeckle confirmed.

“Yay. Okay then. Sister, turn your ass around. No more show for you.”, M/n told Stephanie.

“Noted.”, she replied and turned around.

With that Kenspeckle and M/n got ready to open up the bodies.

“Before you cut the body open, Corrupted.”, Kenspeckle called M/n’s attention on him.

“Yes, Professor Grouse ?”, M/n replied, with an interested voice.

“Be careful. There could be a possibility that Necromancy will leak out of the body. Cut it open carefully and slowly.”

“Noted, Sir.”

“Good. Then let’s not waste any more time.”

With that they both started at the same time, to open the bodies. Kenspeckle was right. Black started to leak out of the cut in the torso. M/n was a bit shocked, but he’s seen worse.

-Time skip-

They had almost all the organs out at this point. M/n could tell it had been a bit over two hours. He took out the organs and Kenspeckle inspected them. Almost all of the organs were filled with black. The Necromancy spread, but they HAD the find the place it hit in and had the most Necromancy inside. Kenspeckle could do that better than M/n, so he did that and M/n gave him the organs.

“We know the organs that were hit first now, Skulduggery.”, Kenspeckle informed, after the last organ from the second body was examined.

“Oh ? The hearts ?”, the Skeleton asked.

Kenspeckle shook his head.

“No. Ghastly do you have pen and paper ready to note it down ?”

“I have, Professor.”

M/n leaned back and had his left thigh resting on his desk, looking at the three Mages. Kenspeckle told him already and he was slightly disgusted, that someone would do something like that.

“Number eight was drowned from Necromancy. You heard me right. The Necromancy hit his lungs and it filled them up, making the victim drown from it alone. He must have been the one to claw at number seven’s leg. Eight must have been in a war with himself as he was drowning in Necromancy. He could have been forced to hurt his partner, as the Necromancy took over his dying body and mind, hence the burn mark.”, Kenspeckle explained the first case.

“So he threw himself around ?”, Ghastly asked.

“No. Number eight was thrown around. It could be that victim seven fought back, or it happened before the Necromancy was forced into his body, by the killer. Number seven had the most Necromancy in his brain though. Or at least...what remained of it.”, M/n stated.

“What...remained of it ?”, Stephanie asked her Brother, back still to them.

“The Necromancy took care to make the brain explode inside the victim’s skull. There were only small remains, the rest must have bled out of his mouth and nose, which must have been cleaned off by one of the oafs that picked the bodies up and brought them here. The small pieces, that, I found and got out, showed us that it had the most Necromancy, which means, that it was the spot, which got infected first. I am unsure if we should inspect the bones too, just to make absolutely sure.”, M/n shortly explained.

Ghastly wrote it all on the paper, his breath very heavy.

“Fucking hell...”, the tailor muttered out in shock.

“Language ! Not in front of my little Sister.”, M/n scolded.

“You curse all the time.”, Stephanie deadpanned.

“I am a special case, Sister. Now shush.”

“Fine...”

“We should inspect the bones.”, Kenspeckle told M/n.

“Well then, let me get the machine ready. I need to see if the idiots emptied it and then I need to fill in the chemicals, which will melt away everything and give us the bones. Oh !”

M/n turned back around and gave Skulduggery a camera.

“Make pictures. You know, for evidence. We have pics of the corpses, the location they were found in, as in the state, and their nude forms too, so the bruises were already taken into account. This is the examination process and then comes the bone examination evidence in pictures. My Sis can’t take the pictures, Ghastly has to note down, Kenspeckle has to prepare and I have a machine to take care of, so YOU take the pictures. I hope you know how to operate a photo Camera.”, M/n said and then left again.

Skulduggery gave M/n’s back a bemused face.

“How stupid and old does he take me for ? Of course I know how to take pictures and how to operate a photo Camera...”, Skulduggery muttered.

“You are a few centuries old, Skulduggery and usually old people don’t like technology.”, Kenspeckle fires at the Skeleton Detective.

Skulduggery looked at the Professor, then muttered something and started to take pictures from different angles, even from the examined organs.

After a while, M/n came back and told Kenspeckle to bring the first body. After 30 minutes they came back with just the bones remaining of the first body, then they did the second one and another 30 minutes later they came back with these two.

“There are specks of Necromancy engraved into the bones.”, Kenspeckle said.

“Yes, which means the Necromancy was used violently, quick and not carefully. It was hectic.”, M/n confirmed.

“So the bones are infected too.”, Skulduggery stated softly.

“Yes, they are, but they were only infected slightly. The fight was hectic, which means it wasn’t precise. After the Necromancy spread over the whole body, the bones got small remaining specks of it too. Imagine it like a knife was used. Someone stabbed quickly and in a rush, sometimes you put a lot more strength into your blows, than you planned, and then you hit bone. The Necromancy specks, on the bones, are like scratches of a knife. They are messy and not at all the cause of death, just a symbol of more damage.”, M/n explained shortly.

He looked at his Sister and sighed.

“If you can look at human skeletons, you can look, Sister.”

Stephanie turned around and looked at the bones. She saw them white and black. The specks of Necromancy were the black spots then. Ghastly noted it all down and Skulduggery took pictures.

Kenspeckle continued to look at the bones, while M/n stood back and drank a few gulps of water. He didn’t drink anything until now, so it was needed.

“How long have we been here ?”, Stephanie asked.

“At least 3 hours. Could be four too.”, M/n answered his Sister.

She stared at her Brother.

“That long already ?!”

“What are you talking about ? This is the fastest I’ve ever been. I am usually forced to work all alone and do everything at once, because my coworkers don’t do shit. I am usually sitting on ONE corpse for at least SIX hours. And don’t you even dare to calculate the time for the report making in there, that takes another two hours. This is fast, because everyone is actually helping me here, for once !”, M/n informed his Sister, with a slight edge to his voice.

She stared at him in horror with her mouth tightly shut. Kenspeckle looked at M/n in confusion and worry.

“Why don’t you tell your Boss about it ?”, Kenspeckle asked.

“Because he won’t listen.”, M/n sighed out and messaged the bridge of his nose.

“You tried ?”

“Multiple times. This is one reason why the older Coroner left in the end with the few people that did at least SOMETHING to help. He asked me, if I wanted to come along, but I didn’t want to be a bother, so I decided that I will take over everything. I am still in contact with the other Coroner, but...well...I barely talk to him. He is a nice man though.”

“Huh, what a shame...”, Kenspeckle said in disappointment.

M/n shrugged his shoulders at that.

“Humans can be blind and oblivious sometimes. Don’t sweat it, Professor.”

“Kenspeckle is just fine, kid.”

“Okay, first name stage it is then.”

“You are way too formal, Corrupted.”, Ghastly chuckled out.

“I got raised like that. It is supposed to show manners. Sorry.”, M/n replied.

“You can call everyone by the first name. We Mages don’t have a big problem with that.”, Skulduggery informed M/n.

“Okay, noted for next time.”, the Teen replied.

“Good.”

“So are we done ?”, Stephanie asked.

“We are. There is nothing else to find.”, Kenspeckle replied.

Just then M/n spotted something on the skull.

“Kenspeckle ? There is a tear in the skull of victim seven. A small crack, but it is still there, that can’t be from the brain explosion, right ?”, the Teen asked.

The Professor came over and his eyes widened.

“Huh...no it is not from that, indeed. I will take a closer look. It seems like...there was something there. Something small...”

Kenspeckle took the skull and left to inspect it further. M/n turned to Ghastly.

“Ghastly ? Give me the notes you made on number eight. I better write the finishing report about it now. It will be more in order and you will have very little to explain.”, the Teen told the tailor.

Ghastly got out the notes from victim eight, gave it M/n and watched as the boy left and sat down on a small computer. He turned the PC on and soon enough you heard mouse clicking and the keyboard being used.

M/n was very focused and even had his glasses back on his face.

“Why and since when do you need glasses, Bubba ?”, Stephanie asked.

“I only need them for near sight. I am far sighted and when things are near or close to my face, it gets blurry and I can’t read anything. No worries, Sister. I don’t need them all the time.”

“Okay...”

With that M/n continued to type and click away, every now and then he looked at Ghastly’s notes and then continued to type.

Kenspeckle came back 15 minutes later and he seemed concerned. Skulduggery had a face of concern too then.

“What is it, Kenspeckle ?”

“Well, something was hidden in his skull. I suspect a small micro chip. I have no idea what it might have been used for, but it seems it got taken. The Killer must of have taken it.”

“A micro chip ?”, M/n asked in worry.

“Yes, why ?”

“I know ONE small Micro chip kind like that. It can have important information on them, but in that case I think it was used for something else. It can be used as a tracker and spying device. If I am correct, that means the Killer could have known all along about them spying on him/her. But for that, either the Killer themselves must of inserted the chip, or someone must have convinced the victim to take it, as safety precaution and then told the Killer, knowingly. In other words, if my tracking and spying theory is correct...”

“The traitor must be in the Sanctuary.”, Kenspeckle concluded.

M/n nodded.

“We all assume that Serpine killed them, after all he was their last mission to spy on and they went missing in the middle of the operation and ended up here on my table. No one would have let Serpine fumble on them, so I suppose it was one from the Sanctuary. Not many knew about the spies on Nefarian’s ass, so I assume it was only a handful. The handful being: Mr. Bliss, Eachan Meritorius, Morwenna Crow, Sagacious Tome, the Administrator and the Doctor, who did the transplant.”, M/n concluded.

Everyone was staring at him.

“I know, you hate to think it was one of them, but they are the only ones, so far, that definitely knew about them spying on Serpine.”

“Why would the Elders want to help Serpine ? They made him stop in the first place, mostly Meritorius.”, Skulduggery defended.

“And Mr. Bliss helped us.”, Stephanie defended.

“Mr. Bliss knew they went missing and were set on Serpine. He also knew that the Sceptre was real and found. He has motives and he was sus to me, the moment he approached us. He knew a lot and yet didn’t try to get the Elders to wake up. Maybe Meritorius isn’t involved in this at all, but he was very convinced that nothing was wrong. I’ve seen his fear of the possibility of the truce being broken, so I do admit that I also doubt him to be the traitor. Miss Crow was a bit shady, but that was because of the show she put on, nothing else. What discipline does she have ?”

“Necromancy. When she appeared, she shadow walked. It is a type of teleportation, but they can’t do that for a long distance.”, Skulduggery informed.

“Then I doubt it was her either. The traitor and Serpine would have to meet a long distance away from public areas and avoid the spies of catching onto their betrayal. If you see shadows emerge from nowhere you already know it could be Crow, so she is out of the question. The Administrator ?”

“He is barely outside of the Sanctuary. Mostly stays in there and practically lives there, for safety reasons.”, Ghastly answered.

“Okay. Then tell me...what is Tome’s ability ?”

“He is a Teleporter.”

“Any restrictions in that Sorcery ?”

“He can only teleport to places, he has been at before.”, Skulduggery answered.

“Nothing else ? No limit of the distance ? No give away when he appears ? He just comes and goes, like a ghost ?”, M/n pressed.

The Mages were dead silent, Stephanie stared at M/n and was concerned. M/n hummed and pointed gun fingers at the three silent Mages.

“Got cha a possible perpetrator, right there. He can teleport, appear out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly. He has connections to higher places. He gets informed about everything from Crow and Meritorius and he seemed to be a very quiet man too. Easy to forget about, easy to not suspect of treason.”

“And his Motive ?”, Skulduggery asked.

“Maybe Serpine brainwashed him. Maybe he always worked for him. When you talked about Serpine, it sounded like he is capable of anything and everything, if he has to. Who knows, maybe he threatened Tome or something.”

“That is just a speculation.”, Ghastly said softly.

M/n whistled softly and looked at the tailor.

“Look, we can easily find that out. We will leave that Detail out for now, note it down, but I will NOT add it in. You get this stuff to Meritorius tomorrow, Skulduggery, while I will inspect my Uncle later too, if the Corpse is still there, considering that there is a high danger that Serpine destroyed it, to kill evidence. You tell the three of them what YOU have found Skulduggery, no word about me, until Gordon’s case. You make them believe that YOU drew the connections. I will put some small spies on your suit and they will go to the people I want them to spy on. If Tome meets up with Serpine, we will know.”, M/n suggested.

“Small spies ?”, Kenspeckle asked.

M/n smiled and opened his hand, there was a small robot in his hand, and it was active too.

“May I introduce to you, the ultimate little spy. They can be so small, that you can barely see them, they can cling onto you anywhere, even when you are naked. You can’t feel them moving on you. They can record everything with very great volume and video quality and they can instantly notify you when something is happening. Easy to command and easy to program. You slap a picture or a name into their system and they chase the person down. Pictures are easier, but names do it too. There is mostly only ONE person, with the names you people take, so it will be a walk in the park for them.”

They all eyed the small robot and watched as it got smaller and moved around. Then M/n’s phone dinged and as he opened it, there was a notification from his bot that he was live and ready. M/n showed it to them and then another message came, which said ‘Conversation happening’.

M/n opened the message and they saw themselves from the bot’s cameras, faces clear and sharp on the screen of the phone.

“Okay...”, Ghastly said.

The phone played the voice after him too, almost no delay in sending it through too. The audio was spot on and sharp. They all were in awe. M/n smirked.

“They are our key to winning. So what do you say, Skulduggery ? Are you in ?”, M/n asked.

He looked at M/n with a smirk. This will be fun~

“I’m in.”, he replied.

Masterlist HERE !

#read warnings above #Playing with a Coroner and a Detective is not wise - Skulduggery x Male!Reader Universe #Part 11 - Inspections #skulduggery pleasant #male!reader #not the canon au #skulduggery pleasant x reader universe #ghastly bespoke #stephanie edgley #my au #derek landy #Kenspeckle Grouse

25 notes · View notes

wordsbymae · 2 years ago

Note

What would farmer if he met his pumpkin as someone who wanted to work for him. Pumpkin moves into the area interested in farming and sees that their neighbor already has farm. Then asks if they can work there. What does he do? Kidnap? Manipulate? Let them work for him, but then kidnap? I bet he would be so pervey. Hehe.

Taglist: @floraroselaughter

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As someone who has worked in the agricultural sector, I'm gonna put my little spin on it, I see the darling being someone who has to work with him. They're agricultural students, or vet students, someone who has to stay and work with him for 2 weeks. They had another place lined up but it was cancelled so they had to quickly find another place before the deadline.

Darling's brother's girlfriend's dad's brother worked for the Farmer and said he could sort it out for you. At the time it was a lifesaver, but reader didn't get to do their normal check to make sure it was somewhere they wanted to stay.

So they rock up to this farm, with this grumpy farmer who works them harder than they've ever worked before. After the first day they are seconds away from crying and leaving. But the farmer the next day is so weirdly different (nothing to do with the farmer watching them shower).

He starts giving them nicknames (pumpkin of fucking course) and real pervy ones like sweetcheeks. Doesn't matter what gender the reader is, he'll still use these sickly sweet nicknames, darlin, sweetpea, pretty/handsome. The reader clearly is uncomfortable, especially when he practically orders them to eat with him, and he's asking them questions about if they have a boyfriend or if they've got boys chasing after them.

He'll stop giving them farm hand work and start making them do domestic stuff too. Laundry, dishes, the floors, baking, cooking, suddenly it's two weeks down and they haven't had their boots on since last Wednesday. When it's time for the reader to leave he gets manipulative, the cause is they suddenly go missing he's the first suspect.

He manipulates the reader into staying another two weeks. He hasn't even shown them the pig shed yet so why not get your pig placement finished already.

Then another two weeks, for his dairy cows.

Then another week for his chickens.

Suddenly reader just doesn't leave and is a housewife through and through

(and if you're into breeding it's cause he baby trapped)

#farmer oc #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x gn!reader #housewife kink #housewife mentioned but not gender wise

159 notes · View notes

update-blog-bp9 · 1 year ago

Text

Kay...

I got two things out today and I am planning to make the "M/n's Pet" (Aka. the William Afton x Male!Reader episodes) its own Masterlist. The SP Fanfic is going smoothly and I might be able to get another Chapter of that one out today too. Depends on how my mood will continue to go. It's one of these days were I had no strength to even get out of bed today, but I don't want to slack off either, so I might as well. ^^

#update #skulduggery pleasant #five nights at freddy's #male!reader #William Afton/Dave Miller x Reader #Playing with a Coroner and a Detective is not wise - Skulduggery x Male!Reader Universe

10 notes · View notes

jayybugg · 10 months ago

Text

nurse

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ghost avoids you but it's not what you think.

Warning: Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Ghost?, Smut (18+), Use of Y/N, Language (?).

Word Count: 4.6K

Note: Now, I know in my master list I said that right now I would only be writing for the Slytherin Boys......but I have spiraled back into my Call of Duty, specifically Ghost. Now this is just an experiment, I don't know how this will go over but if you guys like it then maybeeee I'll post my other fandom fics that I have.

Also! This is a birthday gift for my beautiful gem, @slytherinslut0 , so everyone thank her and wish her a happy birthday. As always, @cafekitsune is on the banner.

Taskforce 141 didn’t pay any attention when they were told that they would have a new nurse on the base. They assumed it would be another male, just like everyone who got employed here.

So, only one could imagine their shock when the base’s doctor, Dr. Moscaw, introduced a pretty little thing like you to the team.

“This is Y/N. She will work under me. Your first point of contact for anything medical-wise.” Moscaw spoke, “Don’t go scaring her off, boys.”

There were grumbles and protests as Dr. Moscaw left you with the team. You cleared your throat as you gave them all a nervous smile. All their eyes were on you, surveying you almost like prey. A certain man with a skull mask being the most intense one. “Um, right. You all desperately need an annual check-up. So, whenever you all have a moment, please stop by the medical ward. I would love to update your records and meet you all.”

Before any of them could say anything, you had scurried off.

Over the next few weeks, they all came in one by one. Introducing themselves as you went through updating their records.

First came Captain Price. You liked to think that he came in to lead by example and not to get out of his mountain of paperwork. Then Kyle came in the next day. He begged you to call him “Gaz”, saying that nobody on base ever calls him Kyle.

Not long after Gaz came, Johnny waltzed into your office. He was flirty but overall friendly. Johnny, just like Gaz, begged you to call him Soap like everyone else. He was the one who referred to you as a breath of fresh air amidst the testosterone-filled air. Often, he and Gaz came to your office. They always claimed to be checking up on you, but you knew it was because they were hiding from their duties.

“Where is…. um, Ghost? Or is his name Simon? It’s two first names on this file.” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of information in his records. Soap chuckled, glancing up from his phone to you. “Ghost is the name he’s gonna give ‘ya. It’s the name that we all know him by.”

“A field name, I assume?” You asked, looking up from your computer. Gaz and Soap nodded. “Yep. His name for plenty of reasons, but that’s neither here nor there.” Gaz waved his hand dismissively.

“Well, is he going to come in for a check-up? He doesn’t have another doctor or anything listed.” You sighed. “His medical record is empty. There is nothing on here, other than his name and height. No birthday, no past medication history, nothing.”

“Of course, that’s all that’s on there. That’s all anyone knows about him.” Soap laughed. “He’s not gonna come in here for a check-up.”

“What? Why not?” You asked, closing your computer.

“Too much information.” Gaz shrugged. “Nobody knows anything about him. It’s a shocker that he even allowed his real name to be on those records.”

“So, nobody knows if this guy even goes to the doctor?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “That’s insane.”

“Ya may be right, but that means nothing to Ghost.” Soap said.

“And insane is basically his middle name. The man does whatever he wants.” Gaz added.

“Do you think he will come in if I just ask?” You pondered to the men.

Gaz and Soap glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you bat those pretty eyelashes at any man on this base, they’ll be eating out the palm of your hand,” Soap said.

“But Ghost isn’t like the average man. He’s not easily swayed like most.” Gaz added, “But I mean, it won’t hurt to try.”

With the encouragement from Gaz and Soap to just try to ask him, you spent the next few weeks attempting to track Ghost down. Unfortunately for you, he lived up to his name very well. It was like every time you went looking for him, everyone had “just seen him.”

Eventually, you found him, by pure coincidence. You were walking to your car, getting ready to leave the base for the day when your eyes landed on a 6’4, muscular man who donned a skull balaclava. You hadn’t seen him since the day that Price had introduced you to the team. He seemed bigger and a bit more intimidating than before, but your determination outweighed your nervousness.

You walked up to him, clearing your throat. Ghost stopped fiddling with his motorcycle to drag his eyes up to your face. His eyes were dark and analytical as he scanned your face before tracing down your body. You felt self-conscious of his wondering gaze.

“Whatcha ‘ya want?” His voice was deep, his accent coming out heavier than you thought it was.

“Um, I’m the new nurse.” You squeaked out before clearing your throat.

“I know.”

“Right.” You took a deep breath. “Your medical records are empty and you’re the only one who hasn’t come in for a check-up.”

There was a brief silence between you two as you waited for him to say something, anything. When you got the hint that he wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to just push forward and ask.

“Will you come in for one? And maybe introduce yourself a little more?”

Ghost stared at you a little longer before turning back to his motorcycle. “No.”

Your eyes widened at the blatant refusal. You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Do ‘ya not know what ‘no’ means? Aren’t ‘ya educated?” Ghost grunted; his back still turned to you.

“You can’t just…. You must fill out these records somehow!”

“No, I don’t.”

You narrowed your eyes at Ghost, huffing slightly. “It’s mandatory to at least get an annual check-up.”

“So, I’ve heard. Don’t care.” He spoke again, throwing one leg over the motorcycle. He started it up, gripping the handles. His eyes focused on your face again as he revved the engine.

“But-”

Before you could even think about responding, Ghost had sped off, leaving you in the dust.

“And he just sped off?” Soap laughed. Gaz smacked his arm, giving you an apologetic look.

“Ignore Soap. He has a terrible sense of humor.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “But we told you he was hard to sway.”

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t want to come in.” You groaned, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to get to know me?”

“It’s Ghost, you aren’t supposed to understand him.” Gaz shrugged. “But I doubt it’s you that he’s against.”

You let another groan, causing the two men to chuckle.

“Hell, Darlin’, you might just make the man nervous as hell. As you can see, we don’t have many pretty females around here.” Soap leaned back in his chair, grinning at you.

“Me? Make Ghost nervous? Please.” You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. Soap shrugged, “You never know, he could be.”

“You never know,” Gaz said, agreeing with Soap.

“Whatever.” You muttered, ending the conversation.

Weeks had passed and Ghost gave no sign of even considering stepping into the medical ward or trying to talk to you. He evaded you any chance he got. You told Dr. Moscaw and Price about the predicament with Ghost. Both waved it off and said, “He’s Ghost, that’s just how he is.

When your official first three months of working on the base had come around, Soap and Gaz had invited you out to the bar to celebrate.

“It’ll be everyone. Cap, Laswell, König, hell, even Ghost said he would come.” Soap smiled at you. You scoffed slightly at the revelation that Ghost was going to show his masked face at the bar. “Are we sure he’s coming for me, or rather, the drinks?” You asked, your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.

Gaz chuckled. “He refused to go until we said it was a celebration for you.”

“Funny that the man that evades me wants to come to my celebration.” You muttered.

“You know, he’s probably around you more than you think,” Soap said, causing you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. Soap shrugged, continuing, “I mean, he’s known for being around without others knowing, hence the name Ghost.”

“Like he sees me, but I don’t see him?” You asked. Soap and Gaz nodded.

“Think of it like he is collecting information on you. The poor guy lives and breathes our missions and the military. It’s all he knows. It works with the idea that you make the man nervous.” Gaz said, patting your back as he and Soap filed out of your office.

Gaz’s and Soap’s words stuck to you. Maybe you had gone about approaching Ghost all wrong. He was quieter than Gaz and Soap and obviously more secretive, given the blank medical record and the mask. Maybe you should let him approach you, let him feel you out to see if you’re trustworthy or not.

When the night of the celebration rolled around, you promised yourself that you would not pester Ghost. Despite the growing need to get to know him and your nursing instincts to make sure he was healthy; you were going to let him come to you.

You walked into the bar, tugging slightly at your dress that rose from sitting in the taxi. Your black mini dress hugged your curves and had a low neckline that showed off your cleavage with your matching strappy heels. Although Soap and Gaz had to you to come dressed up, you debated calling the taxi back and going home to change. You were going to be with your co-workers, who were most likely going to be in jeans.

You sighed, pushing open the door to the bar. Your eyes snapped over to the large table in the back of the bar where all your coworkers sat. “Y/N!” Gaz yelled, jumping up from his seat. He grabbed your arm, escorting you to the table. Everyone shot you a smile, except König and Ghost, who both donned a balaclava. Although, you could tell from the crinkle in König’s eyes that he was smiling at you.

“The guest of honor is finally here.” Laswell smiled at you. “Congratulations on sticking it out at the base for three months. I must admit, I thought these boys would scare you away by now.”

“No, I’m tougher than I look.” You joked, “Plus, everyone is nice. I felt welcomed.”

Gaz and Soap gave Ghost an unmistakable side eye that you caught, and if you caught it, then everyone at the table caught it. You also didn’t miss the narrowed eyes that Ghost gave back to Gaz and Soap.

“A round of shots! For our new family member.” Price winked at you, giving you a warm smile.

That’s how the night went on, chatting and drinks getting passed around. It didn’t take you long to get buzzed. You kept true to your promise to yourself and didn’t go looking for interactions with Ghost.

However, you felt his eyes on you. It was like they never left you, always following your every movement.

It felt familiar.

Ghost stayed quiet the whole night, not cracking a chuckle at any jokes or taking part in the conversations. His eyes wandered the bar as if he was looking for any type of escape. Whenever your eyes met his, he looked away, his eyes hardening in the process.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You said, feeling the alcohol finally run through you and back up your throat. Although everyone was too occupied with their conversations to hear you. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, pushing open the door. You wasted no time, bending over the toilet and vomiting what little contents that were in your stomach.

“I knew I should’ve eaten before….” You whispered to yourself.

“Yeah, ‘ya should have. Not very nurse of ‘ya.” A deep voice echoed behind you.

You jumped, turning around, clutching your chest as your eyes landed on Ghost. He stood behind you, arms crossed, as he leaned against the stall door.

“God, when the fuck did you get in here?” You asked, your eyes traveling down his figure. This would be the first time that you had ever seen Ghost in civilian clothes. Even on relaxed days on the base, Ghost wore full tactical gear. Tonight, he opted for a compression tee and black sweatpants, as if he was planning to go to the gym after all of this.

Which wouldn’t be surprising for Ghost.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” Your eyes landed on his sleeve, which seemed to move as he unconsciously flexed his muscles.

“I know ‘ya didn’t.” Ghost said, offering his hand out to you. You took it gratefully, standing up to your two feet. Ghost handed you some mouthwash and gum, along with your purse.

“Didn’t want nobody shifting through ‘ya stuff.” Ghost said when he saw the look that you gave him, “Also thought ‘ya might want to touch up ‘ya make up.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a small smile. He nodded, turning on his heel to leave out the bathroom. You swigged the mouthwash around, spitting into the sink. You freshen up your makeup before popping the piece of gum in your mouth.

You made your way back to the table, sitting down when a waitress came and dropped a personal pan of pepperoni pizza in front of you with water. “Oh,” You looked up at her, “I didn’t order this.”

“One of your friends ordered it for you. Told me to bring it when you came back to your seat.” She smiled and walked away. You glanced down at the pizza with a smile. Pizza was your favorite greasy food; it matched the rumbling of your drunk stomach perfectly.

You looked up at Soap and Gaz, the only two people who would know about your guilty pleasure food. Soap was leaning against the table flirting with another waitress while Gaz made bets with Price on football games. You decided you would thank one of them later when they weren’t busy.

4 am finally rolled around, causing the night to end. Gaz had called you a cab, walking you out as everyone said their goodbyes. Ghost had already mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the night. Once Gaz got you settled in the backseat, you smiled at him. “Thanks, Gaz. Oh, and thank you for the pizza, too.”

Gaz raised his eyebrow. “What pizza?”

“The pizza you ordered me when I went to the bathroom.” You clarified.

“I didn’t order you a pizza, hell, I didn’t even know you went to the bathroom.” Gaz said before chuckling a bit with a mischievous smirk, “The only person who ordered food was Ghost.”

Before you could ask anything more, Gaz tapped the roof of the car and your taxi pulled off.

You went even longer without seeing Ghost after the bar. It was almost as if he had just disappeared into thin air. You tried to question Gaz and Soap, but they claimed they knew nothing about it. Saying that it was probably a “lucky guess” but if anything they had told you about Ghost was true, nothing he did was just a lucky guess.

You pushed all your questions to the back of your mind, as you knew you weren’t going to get any answers any time soon. You were cleaning up the office as your day was ending. 141 were out on a mission, a relatively relaxed one, so your office was quiet and easy to pack up rather than having to tell Soap to stop touching stuff every 5 minutes.

You hummed to yourself, not taking notice that your office door had swung open.

“You’re terrible at being aware of ‘ya surroundings.”

You jumped, a squeal falling from your mouth. “You have to stop doing that!”

Ghost stood at your door, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His arms crossed as he stared at you through his mask. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. You suddenly felt small like the room was closing in on you due to Ghost’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Ghost’s eyes seemed to widen, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there either.

“Give me a check-up.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing over at the clock. It was 7:35 pm, and the base was basically empty.

“It can’t wait til tomorrow?” You asked. Ghost took a step closer to you, “I thought you wanted to get to know me?”

“I do but-”

“Then give me the check-up.” Ghost grunted, sitting on the bench. His large frame made the normally large bench look small under him.

You sighed softly, getting out your equipment to start his check-up. You stay silent as you slip on your latex gloves after washing your hands. “So, I’m guessing something happened on the mission.”

Ghost looked over to you, his eyes coated in a small dose of confusion. “What?”

“I mean, you seemed very adamant about not getting a check-up before and now you’re here after a mission. I just assumed maybe something happened.” You clarified as you moved to check his heartbeat.

It took everything in you not to let your hands wander across his chest as you pulled away from him to turn to your computer and record the data.

“Nothing happened. Just built up some confidence.” He said, getting off the bench to stand behind you closely.

“O-oh…. confidence for what?” You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on the computer screen.

Ghost didn’t answer your question, instead, he grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re always around, smelling good. In these scrubs that hug your body tighter than any other scrubs I’ve ever seen.” Ghost muttered, “Always laughing at Soap’s stupid jokes. Always getting pizza when you know you aren’t supposed to.”

“I try to avoid you and ignore you, but you just crawl your little ass into my mind anyways. All mission…. just thinking and wondering what you’re doing.” Ghost continued.

“Is this your way of admitting that you’ve been thinking about me?” You asked.

Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him. His hand moved to take a piece of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

“Um, we should finish the check-up so we can go.” You spoke softly. Ghost ignored you, dipping his face into your neck. He took a deep breath. “God, you smell heavenly.”

“Ghost....”

“I need you.” He grumbled, “I need you all around me. I’ve learned everything I can about you and all I can think about is how I need to feel about you.”

“How I need to ruin you.”

You felt a knot in your stomach at his words, heat pooling inside you. “R-ruin me?”

“Beyond belief.” Ghost confirmed, “Give me the green light.”

You stayed silent as Ghost pushed his knee between your legs, pressing his knees gently against your core, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He lifted his mask to reveal his lips, pressing against your neck in soft, wet kisses. “Y/N. Answer me.”

“I….” You gasped for air, “P-please…do it.”

Ghost didn’t need to hear anything else. He lifted you easily, throwing you on the bench. He yanked your top off, groping your breast. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about these since the bar. So soft and plump…” Ghost grumbled, pulling your bra down and latching his mouth to your nipple.

A small moan fell from your mouth at the actions. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he pulled away with a slight “pop”. He left a trail of kisses down your chest to your naval. He tugged down your pants, throwing them in the same direction as your top. He groaned at the sight of the wet spot in your panties.

“So wet and ready for me. Huh, love?” Ghost said, blowing softly on your clothed clit.

You whined softly, nodding your head. He slapped your thigh, his eyes looking up at you. “I want to hear use your words. Let me hear that pretty voice that has been plaguing my mind for these past few months.”

You let out a sigh as Ghost pressed the pad of his tongue to your slit through your panties, teasing you. “Yes…. I’m wet and ready for you.”

“Good fucking girl, Lovie.” Ghost chuckled, moving your panties to the side to latch his mouth to your clit. He sucked and lapped at your clit harshly, your moans becoming uncontrollable as he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue teased your slit, flicking his tongue up and down.

He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to him. His nose pressed against your clit, stimulating you more and more. “Oh God, fuck, Ghost.” You moaned, your hands reaching out to grip the top of his balaclava.

“That’s right. I want you moaning my name like it’s the only thing that pretty little mind knows.” Ghost muttered, slipping two fingers into you as he kept lapping up all your juices. Your thighs tightened around his face as you felt your climax coming.

Ghost groaned at the action, his cock twitching with anticipation. You tossed your head back as pleasure coursed through your body. “I’m about to cum, fuck, I’m s’close.”

Your words seem to push Ghost further into sending you over the edge. His tongue moved faster against you as his fingers matched his pace. Your mind was blanking from the orgasm that rushed over your body. Ghost pulled his fingers out slowly as he pulled away from your swollen clit. His mouth was covered in your slick as he smirked. “Taste so sweet, Angel.” He spoke.

He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, groaning at the warmth of it. You suck on his fingers, tasting yourself on them as you swirled your tongue around. “Such a good, eager girl. So happy to taste yourself on my fingers.” Ghost whispered, pushing them down your throat so he could hear your gags.

Ghost pulled away, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. His cock sprang out, revealing its large length. It hit his abdomen; the tip leaking with pre-cum. Your eyes looked down at him, eyes widening at the sight. “My God….” You whispered.

Ghost grabbed the base of his shaft, jerking himself off slightly before pulling you to the edge of the bench and wrapping one of your legs around his waist while propping the other one on his shoulder. “I need this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me.” Ghost growled. He rubbed his tip up and down your slick, coating it in it.

“Tell me how much you want this, Lovie. How bad do you want me to fuck you?” Ghost demanded; his eyes focused on you. You let out a whiny moan, looking up at him, “Please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.”

Ghost pushed into you, filling you up slowly but surely. Ghost groaned, sinking into you until he was fully inside you. “S’fucking tight. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt until it’s molded to only take my cock.” Ghost groaned, snapping his hips forward for a forceful thrust. A guttural moan fell from your mouth, as Ghost gripped your throat with both hands, pounding into you at a ruthless pace.

“M’been dreaming of this since the day I laid eyes on your fucking application picture.” Ghost muttered, “Such a pretty fucking girl. Batting your eyelashes at everyone.”

Ghost’s hands moved down to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your moans were drowned out by the loud slapping of your skin. If it wasn’t for the way that Ghost was viciously railing you, you would be concerned that someone would walk past and hear you.

“Such a fucking whore. Getting fucked in your office…. you like being railed after work? Hmm?” Ghost hissed out as you clenched around him.

“You look s’pretty being full of my cock.” Ghost muttered, leaning down to kiss and nip your neck. You whined, feeling another knot form in your stomach. You clenched around Ghost, making him groan. “M’close…. s’close…” You spoke in between moans.

“Go ahead and make a mess on my cock, baby. Cum all over this cock like the slut you are.” Ghost demanded. It didn’t take long for your legs to shake and for Ghost’s cock to be drenched in your climax. He slowed his thrusts, pulling out of you. You whimpered at the lost feeling.

“Get up, Lovie. I want to cum all in that pretty mouth of yours.” Ghost said, pulling you off the bench and to your knees. You looked up at him as he pumped himself. Slapping his cock against your lips, you opened your mouth to let him slip in.

“S’fucking warm. Fucking made to take my dick in every fucking hole you have.” Ghost muttered, his hand snaking around the back of your head to shove his dick further down your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tasted all your juices that drenched his cock. Saliva trailed down your chin as Ghost thrust in and out of your mouth at an unforgiving pace. “A fucking slut you are, taking my dick so well. Fuck.” Ghost groaned as his hip stuttered slightly. His cock twitched in your mouth before ropes of cum shot down your throat.

Your eyes screwed shut as Ghost stayed deep in your throat, making sure you swallowed all his cum. He pulled out, bending down to level as you looked up at him. “So, this was going through your mind all this time.” You spoke breathlessly.

“Shocked, Lovie?” Ghost smirked, lifting you back to your feet.

“A little.” You nodded. Ghost tilted your head back to press a rough but gentle kiss to your lips. “Well, I suggest you get used to it because there will be more of that.”

“So, you made your move, huh?” Soap grinned wickedly at Ghost, who sat further down the table. Ghost’s eyes shot to Soap’s as he narrowed them at the man.

“Don’t even try to deny it, LT.” Gaz said, his eyes staying trained on his phone. “All the talk around the base is how a certain skull mask-wearing lieutenant is attached to the hip of the pretty little nurse.”

“She must’ve really made you nervous if it took you almost three months to make a move on her.” Soap teased.

“I did more than make a move on her, Sergeant.” Ghost spoke, “That pretty little nurse is now my pretty little nurse.”

Ghost smirked underneath his mask as he looked between Gaz and Soap. “So, it would do you both good to watch your hands the next to you hug her. Would hate to have to break your fingers off for wandering too far for your own good.”

Without another word, Ghost sauntered out of the meeting room, leaving Soap and Gaz dumbfounded.

“Hm, I was wondering when that boy was going to make a move.” Price hummed from his spot, “All that begging to hire her to this base and took nearly four months to even talk to her.”

“Wait, what? Ghost knew about her before she even got to base?” Gaz asked.

“Ghost was the one who pulled her application.” Price said, “Said ‘his future girl’ had applied, and I needed to get her on base.”

Gaz and Soap looked at each other before sighing. Of course, Ghost knew you before you knew him.

Because it wouldn’t be Ghost if he didn’t.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #modern warfare #simon riley #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #jayybugg fics

3K notes · View notes

yieldtotemptation · 3 months ago

Text

ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck. Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

#kpop smut #natty smut #kiss of life smut #male reader

2K notes · View notes