plot: you came home later than usual one night and werenât acting like your usual self, which freaked midnight out â cw: reader is implied drugged, this is a yandere incubus, some uncomfy topics, emotional hurt/comfort â w.c: 1.6k
for june of doom, day 8: âhow many fingers am i holding up?â/drugged âą on ao3 âą more event works âą masterlist
By the time you had arrived home, it was very late at night. The front door creaked open, revealing your flushed and disheveled form, looking much worse for wear than you should have been.
Before now, you had been out drinking with some friends downtown. Midnight was aware and begrudgingly allowed this, understanding that your friends were platonic. Jealousy was not an emotion he could truly escape, but he kept a tight enough lid on it to minimise any potential distress.
Tonight, however, things were different.
Upon stumbling in through the door, you looked like you had been through hell and back. You stood, just barely, and with one shoe missing. Your lipstick had smudged against your face, and your eyes were glazed, with the whites kissed pink. Midnight, who had been ready to prepare you for bed and deal with your hangover the next day, had already suspected something much more foul at play here.
The thought crossed his mind, but he almost didnât want to know.
His ashen grey hands caught you as you fell forward into your home and then led you to sit at the edge of the bed, taking a knee in front of you. âYouâre so drunk,â he murmured, his voice low and thick with worry.
You nodded at him and brushed out a hand to run his long black hair. The strands fell through your fingers like silk. âVery, very drunk,â you confirmed, âand youâŠâ you said, trailing off, dropping your hand to jab him in the chest, âare very blurry.â
Midnight flashed you a tight smile, feeling both his sanity and his patience slip away for a moment. He tried to stay calm for your sake, but it hurt him to see you in such a state. âKeep looking at me, okay?â he requested, propping a finger beneath your chin to keep your gaze level with his own.
âIâm looking, Iâm looking,â you slurred.
A sharp exhale left his lips as he tried to assess what you had gone through. You promised that you would be out for three hours maximum, because you still had work the next day. When you came back, however, it was starting to get bright outside. It made no sense that you would be in this sort of state. Shaking his head, he held up three fingers in front of you. âHow many am I holding up?â
You squinted your eyes, trying to focus. âTwo? No. Four?â
Midnight could only blink. âThis isnât funny.â
Your lips formed a frown as he grew upset with you, but you tried to keep him grounded. âYouâre so cute when youâre worried,â you spoke, nodding forward slightly and losing your balance for a split second before leaning back again.
That, however, just about broke him. He swiftly rose to his feet and took maybe two steps back, fixing you a panicked look. His usual calm and soft demeanour curdled into something sharper as concern settled into his features. âYou donât understand, my love,â he urged, pleaded, almost, âthis is serious. What if you had gotten hurt? What if someone took you home and⊠andâŠâ he was unable to finish the sentence.
Being as out of it as you were, however, meant that your emotions were also all over the place. If he wasnât calm, then neither were you. You blinked up at him and tried to hold onto your composure, but it was quickly slipping. âW-why are you so mad at me?â
Midnight sighed and fell back to his knees, his hands branching out to hold your shoulders. âIâm not mad at you,â he assured with a gentler tone, âIâm just scared because I love you so much and I donât want to see you get hurt, or worse.â
You didnât reply that time, but tried to lean forward into a hug. Your arms wrapped around his back, feeling along the protruding spikes that ran down his spine. He reciprocated by holding you close, allowing his eyes to drift to the ceiling and find comfort in your presence. After a couple of minutes, he calmed down, but only a little.
âAre you still awake?â he asked.
You nodded, and your voice sounded slightly more cohesive that time, âYes.â
There was a slight pause. Midnight fixed you a grim look but tried to keep his expression soft at the same time. What he wanted you to do was to take this seriously. Finding the right balance was just difficult.
âDid someone⊠get you into this state?â he carefully probed.
Your eyes screwed shut as you tried to remember, but nothing immediate popped up. âN-no,â you stammered, shaking your head and then shrugging. âI mean, I donât think so? We both had a couple of rum and cokes, but we couldnât have had more than three. I did go to the bathroom once and left my drink with some trusted people, but itâs entirely possible that they didnât pay as much attention since the venue was so packed.â
He nodded as you spoke. âAnd⊠do you think that someone might have drugged you?â he asked you. âPlease think carefully.â
âI-Iâm not sure,â you admitted, âbut Iâm back home, arenât I? So, itâs okay, right?â
Midnight snapped without meaning to. His voice raised, causing you to jump. âYouâre barely okay. You could barely stand straight when you came home. What if someone followed you home, and I didnât exist? Do you even thinkââ
You groaned at his lecture, even if you understood that it came from a place of care. âBut, youâre always here.â
âHow did you even get back home?â he interrogated without skipping a beat.
âI took an uber,â you muttered.
Midnight couldnât help but scoff. For the time being, he hugged you tighter as he tried to expel any dark thoughts. He didnât want to think about what could have happened to you in such a state, and the possibilities filled him with a barely controlled seething rage. Demons could eat people if they truly wanted to, but both incubi and succubi alike had more limitations. If it meant protecting you, though, then he would do so without hesitation.
For the time being, he settled on an ultimatum.
He pulled back to look at you. âNo more nights out.â
Your voice croaked as you replied, âWhat?â
âYou heard me,â he replied flatly, âI canât trust anyone around you. Not even your friends, it seems.â
Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to protest. âW-wait, can I at least still go to my job? Or outside?â
âYou can,â Midnight snorted. âJust no more getting drunk around strangers,â he warned, âyou can drink at home and bring your friends over if you must, and Iâll just blend into the shadows.â
You nodded, but this still didnât seem right to you. You blinked up at him and tried to argue back again. âIâll be more careful next time.â
âIâm sure,â he replied, âbecause there wonât be a next time, my love.â
âMidnightââ you protested, your voice twisting into a whine. He wasnât being fair, was he? You didnât think so.
âWhat?â he seethed. âIâm not doing anything wrong by protecting you, am I?â he asked you, not realising just how manipulative he sounded. He shot his hand out to grab onto your wrist, emphasising his point with a tight squeeze. You grunted out in sudden pain, but he was too blinded by anger to see what he was doing to you.
His grip tightened as he yanked you forward, but then you flinched, letting a sharp yelp escape your lips.
Midnight reacted right away, dropping your hand in an instant. âOh, no. Oh, no, no,â he backpedalled, his eyes growing wide as he forced himself to step away from you. âWhat did I justââ
You were still dazed and intoxicated, but more so, you were confused. He hurt you, yes, but you managed to register it as an accident. You knew that he could never truly hurt you. Not on purpose.
âItâs okay, it was an accidentââ you tried to comfort him.
However, he could only shake his head, quickly growing distraught. âNo, donât make excuses for me,â he shot back, âIâm trying so hard not to become like the rest,â he said, referencing the others of his kind, âI donât want to drain or hurt you. Iâm different, arenât I? Iââ
You took an unsteady step forward after him. âM-Midnight, please, you said it before, right?â you asked, trying to remind him of his worry. âYou were just scared. Everyone does strange things when theyâre scaredâŠâ
He turned away from you even as you tried to keep his eyes on you. His tail swished around nervously behind him, but eventually, he did calm down. He nodded down to meet with your worried stare, his heart breaking from the thought of someone hurting you while at the same time, being the cause of such a thing.
âYouâre right,â Midnight supposed, âbut it should never be an excuse to hurt you, and I promise you that it wonât happen again,â he vowed, but he wasnât done talking as a look of determination settled in his eyes, ânor will I let anyone else ever get that close to you again.â
You gulped in response and carefully nodded, even if you were unsure about the depths of his promise. âOkay, youâll⊠protect me?â
Midnight nodded, reuniting his body with yours, pulling you into a hug you could no longer back out fromâeven if you wanted toâholding onto you as tight as he could. He seemed to have finally relaxed now that he was certain that you were safe and sound, but at the same time, something changed internally for him. It was as if he overrode whatever had been holding him back as an incubus.
If someone were to hurt you in the future for whatever reason or cause, then Midnight wouldnât be shy in reminding humans as to why they used to fear demons so very much in the past.
thinking about cowboy!clark kent talking you through riding him in his awfully charming southern drawl.
"yeah, there ya' go, honey," he's guiding your hips on his cock with big, warm, calloused hands heavy on your skin, his tip hitting that sweet spot inside you with each bounce.
there's an obvious bulge in your tummy from just how big he is, disappearing and reappearing with every shift of your hips.
"ohgodâ" you choke out a whine, resting your sweaty forehead on his broad shoulder, letting him do most of the work by manually moving your hips. "s'big, clark" you bite down on his shoulder, his salty skin coating your tongue. that pulls a groan from him, he's rubbing the fat of your ass tenderly.
"i know, baby. i know" he's so loving, so incredibly doting that you can't help but cry out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him as his cock nearly splits you open.
"feels good though, don't it?" he drawls, gripping the hair on your head gently and pulling your face from the crook of his neck so he can pepper reverent kisses on your flushed, damp skin. "my pretty baby, jus' want t'make you feel good" he coos, head lolling back as your pussy flutters around him in response to his sweet words.
"fuck, clark" your face twists in pleasure, limbs turning into puddles as you feel that knot in your gut tightening impossibly. greedy hands roam his body, your fingertips running over his tanned arms and squeezing at his biceps. "m'close" you breathe out, looking down and literally moaning at the sight of the creamy white ring at the base of clark's member.
"i know it, sweet girl. can feel ya' milkin' me" he shakes his head, huffing a chuckle that shifts into a groan as you dig your manicured nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in your wake. he doesn't mind when you mark him up, if anything it makes him twitch inside of you.
his balls tighten up, heavy with cum as you grind down on him a few last times before your orgasm washes over you, leaving you moaning whorishly into his skin as he fucks up into you. "aw, there ya go, s'good h-honey, love you, sweetheart" he praises you for cumming, as if he didn't just do all of the work. "claaark" you breathe out, collapsing on top of him as a post-orgasm calm washes over you.
he finishes shorty after you, as he always makes it a goal to get you to finish before him. he thrusts up into you sloppily and shoots his warm release deep inside of you, making you squirm on top of him from the strange sensation. "i know, baby, feels weird..." he groans lowly, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back.
he lets you collapse on top of him, basically a puddle from how fucked out you are. he's pressing little kisses to your bare shoulder every so often, making sure you're as comfortable as you can be. "did so good for me, honey." he's just the sweetest cowboy. <3
He's looking up at you with wide eyes through foggy glasses, big hands desperately pawing at every inch of your waist and hips. You're smiling down at him, hands on his chest as you lazily roll your hips on his cock, his reddened tip leaking deep inside your pussy.
"Gosh⊠feels s'good," he manages to babble between whines, voice shaky and lashes fluttering with every movement. His words spur you to roll your hips faster, grinding his fat cock right against your cervix, wet squelching sounds harmonizing with his now louder whimpers.
His thick arms pull you down onto his chest, needily wrapping around you as he stuffs his face into your sweaty shoulder. His hips desperately buck upward, creamy slick mixed with his earlier load coating his length with every fervent rut. The viscous mixture creates an obscene glide between your bodies.
This is how it always ends, with him holding you as close as possible, your bodies practically mended together into one. Clark's a clingy man, something you knew before. The intensity of it still surprises you when he suffocates you against him as he thrusts inside, stretching you full for hours.
"Need to cum 'n you, please sweetheartâŠ" he begs, voice slightly muffled against your skin. His balls are tight and aching, covered with slick and cum, slapping against your ass with every needy rut.
"Go ahead. Y'deserve it," you whisper with a kiss against his temple. His body immediately responds to your reassurance, unloading inside your sloppy pussy with a final, impaling thrust from below. Hot white load fills you up and oozes onto his pelvis, his twitching hips making it drip onto the sheets. His cries fill the room, his voice broken and high.
You slowly grind onto him, milking every drop out of him through his climax. His cock throbs hard making your pussy clench and spasm around him. His body starts to relax, his hold loosening around you as he trembles, breaths uneven as he comes down.
He's so fucked out, eyes glossy and mouth swollen. Too bad the tremulous sight turns you on all over again.
You keep your voice low as footsteps pass by, chatter prevalent in the building. You hold your voice as much as you can, despite the owner literally balls-deep into you behind the door.
It hasn't been too long since you started having sex with your boss behind closed doors, but Bruce always finds the perfect spots to hit. Your mouth opens as a silent moan when you feel him slamming himself into your g-spot over and over again.
You want to cry, to moan but you can't. All you can do is whine and squirm while Bruce fucks his cock into you aggressively.
As far as you know, he's been single for the past few years so don't be shocked when he rams his member into you like there's no tomorrow.
"I love you so much, gonna fuck you until sunrise," he starts whispering into your ear, skin slapping against yours.
"Nghhâ" you grit your teeth. "Please doâ!"
He lets out a quiet groan before painting your insides white with his cum, throwing his head back while it leaks out of you slowly. He stops momentarily, only continuing so you can reach your climax too.
A soft gasp escapes your lips, the cum following soon after, mixing with his to form a mixture.
The both of you stay in that position, panting and catching your breath.
"C-can I take the day off... sir?" you ask, still huffing.
He stares at you skeptically, before a smirk appears. "No, I'd like to watch you walk around the office with cum still inside."
You glare. He's really just going to torture you like that? But it's not like he hasn't pulled a stunt like this before.
"Fuck you,"
"It's nothing you can't handle," he says, leaving the room to give you some time to fix yourself up.
(one day, I'm gonna remember to put the taglist in BEFORE I publish)
âAre you sure you want to do this?â He asks into your mouth, mid-kiss, although he can read your mind. Perhaps heâs reading your body language instead, the way your shoulders tense, your lungs expanding to full volume, how your fingers tremble as you unbutton his shirt. But none of those physical manifestations of anxiety can eclipse the pure, unadulterated need in your stomach, far beyond the innocent flutters of butterfly wings at first blush. This feelingâthe flame across your cheeks, the throb between your legsâitâs something utterly sinful. Thereâs nothing sweet about it.
âIâm sure, Leon,â you say, the words carried from your throat on the back of a hitched breath. How unconvincing.Â
Then, to make things worse, you pull back. Why did you pull back?Â
âEverything alright?â He asks, already high off the taste of your mouth, forcing himself from his euphoria to check in with you, though thereâs nothing he wants more in this moment than to rip the cloth from your body and ravish everything that was beneath it.
You swallow hard, a nest of fear and guilt caught in your throat, scratching the gummy sides of your esophagus on the way down. âDonât freak out, okay?âÂ
Leon canât help but let his eyes go wide. His mind travels to dark places in the beat of silence between you. âWhat is it?âÂ
Maybe you donât tell him. You still have time. Act coy and coquettish, write your hesitation off as flirtation when he asks why you pulled away. Still, looking into his eyes, all large and fawn-like, and filled to the brim with such care youâd be an ass to keep anything from someone so understanding and willing to listen, especially something as important as this. He deserves to know, like he deserves to have all of you.
âIâve never done this before. Ever.âÂ
His brows furrow. âWhat?â Then, as if you can see the cogs turning through a window in his forehead, you watch him put the pieces together, nodding at his conclusion. âSex?âÂ
âMhm.â You cut your eyes, unable to meet his. âSorry.â The apology quickly slips from your lips, a formality youâve taken upon yourself more than bending under the pressure. Itâs not as though youâre embarrassed or ashamed, but it seems like something to say at the moment.Â
âHey, look at me. No need to apologize,â he promises, crooking a finger under your chin to direct your gaze back to him.Â
âI havenât scared you off?âÂ
âHoney,â he says with a laugh as if you just told him the sky is green. âIt takes a lot more than that to scare me.â And you know heâs not lying. âButââ
âYou donât want it?âÂ
The tension in his brows melts, and he tilts his head as though personally offended by your assumption. âThatâs not true, and you know it.â He grabs your face in his hands, dipping his chin to give you a sweet peck on the forehead. âI just want to make sure itâs something you want. Is it?âÂ
You nod against his lips, then he pulls away, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.Â
âCan I hear you answer in that pretty voice of yours?âÂ
âYes. Yes, Leon, I want it.âÂ
He smiles with a little bit of tooth. âGood.âÂ
âDeep breath. Come on, deep breath.â
You inhale, pushing your lungs to their full capacity, savoring the scent of Leonâs skin: musk and clove, black pepper, and that specific smell attached to men who donât try too hard to smell good but it seems to be embedded in their DNA.Â
âThatâs it. One more time. Just relax.âÂ
Another inhale. This time, you feel your hips melt a little further into the mattress, your head dizzying as though you took a hit of a joint or sipped on a glass of wine. A good, deep breath is a drug in and of its own.Â
âThere you go,â he coos, pumping himself in his fist. You try not to look, already intimidated by the sheer size of him. Not too thick but, boy, is he long. And pretty. With a pink head, already weeping with a bead of anticipation, and a few sprawling veins that crawl up and down the length. âDonât be scared. Itâs okay. Iâm here.âÂ
He could make you kill a man if he asked you in that voice.Â
From above, his eyes are affixed to yours as he awaits your signal. âYou ready?âÂ
You nod. âYes. Please.â Parting your legs just a bit more to accommodate the width of his hips between them, you allow the head to glide up and down your pussy, waiting teasingly at your seam.
He chuckles lightly at your plea, manually lining himself up with your hole, already sopping wet from the work of his tongue. Then, he enters you. One inch at a time until heâs half-way there, another promise. The stretch is something you could never imagine on your own without experiencing it once or twice. It burns. Like that time when you were a kid and fell off your bike, knees scratched and gouged. And it stings.Â
You hiss through gritted teeth, immediately regretting it once Leonâs hips stop moving, and heâs caught, half-way inside.
âShit,â he curses under his breath, looking down at you. Strands of icy blonde hair hang down like curtains, the tips tickling your forehead. âYou okay?âÂ
Biting down on your lower lip, you nod. âYes, keep going.â
He doesnât. One hand comes to cup your cheek, the other smoothing your hair down the side of your head, his weight still resting on his elbows, dug into the mattress top. âIf you want to stop, just tell me, okay?â He would really hate that, though. Youâre so tight around him, squeezing his cock to the point heâs unsure if itâd let him go. âPromise?âÂ
âPromise.âÂ
Leon plunges the fullness of his length inside you, causing you to cry out like a wounded animal on the forest floor, or a future piece of roadkill on the side of the highway.Â
âYouâre doing such a good job. Keep breathing for me. Just relax.â
He goes slow at first, warming you up, waiting for the signals that your pain has melted into pleasure. Once he hears your cries turn into gasping moans, he picks up the pace, hips slapping against your pelvic bone, the sloppy, wet sound like a cheer from the sidelines of a race.Â
âThatâs it,â he coos in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. âYouâre taking me so good.â The praise is punctuated by a whimper of his own. âDoinâ so good for me, baby.âÂ
You dig your fingernails into the meat of his shoulders, tethering yourself to him, sure the movement could saw you into the mattress if you didnât hold on to something. His chest begins to beat against yours, his heart thumping through his pec, the beat matching the rhythm of his thrusts
âYou feel me stretching you? That feels good, huh?â
Not sure what to say, worried youâll make a joke or something just as stupid, you nod quietly, drinking in the sounds of his pleasure, each moan and yelp from him adding to your own. It does feel good. Not quite the screaming, crying type of âfeels goodâ, the kind of euphoric pleasure he inflicts on you when he eats you out, but it has the potential to be.
He tries so hard to elongate the actâitâs your first time after all. Thatâs the least he could do.Â
But that all too familiar tension grows in his abdomen, the muscles there contracting and releasing at an erratic pace, and his cock begins to throb as he continues plowing into your pussy. Your pretty, wet pussyâfuckâheâs gone.Â
Not even two whole minutes and heâs already finishing inside you, seizing and thrashing as he releases his pleasure. For a man who wasnât, at all, inexperienced, one would think it was his first time.
đŒàœŒ true form!sukuna who lets you ride his stomach mouth.
you straddle sukunaâs broad torso, thighs already shaking as you hover over the jagged mouth splitting across his abdomen. his four eyes gleam with cruel hunger, watching every twitch of your body.
the stomach mouth opens slowly, hot breath fanning over your dripping folds before a thick, ridged tongue drags out, tasting you like he owns every inch.
âgo on,â he growls, voice dripping with mockery. âride it properly. show me how badly that greedy little cunt needs me.â
you sink down with a broken whimper as the tongue pushes inside you, thick and relentless, stretching you open while the mouthâs lips seal tight around your clit. the suction is immediate and vicious, pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves as the tongue curls deep, fucking into you with wet, obscene sounds. your hands brace on his chest, hips rolling desperately as pleasure slams through you.
it does not take long before your walls clenching hard around the invading muscle.
sukuna laughs, low and dark, the vibration making the tongue thrash even harder inside you. when you try to lift up cause itâs becoming too much, oversensitive and twitching, his massive hand snaps around your wrist like a vice.
sukuna yanks you back down forcefully, slamming your hips flush against his stomach so the mouth devours you completely again.
âwhere the fuck do you think youâre going?â he snarls, eyes narrowing. âyou started this. now you finish it. keep riding.â
the tongue does not give you any mercy.
it pounds into you faster, twisting and dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur. the lips suck harder on your clit, relentless and wet, forcing another orgasm out of you before the first one even fades.
your thighs burn, body jerking wildly as you sob through the overstimulation, but sukunaâs grip on your wrist is iron. every time you try to pull away or rise even an inch, he drags you right back down, grinding you against the mouth.
âlook at you,â he taunts, voice rough with satisfaction. âcrying and shaking like a pathetic little toy. my stomach is soaked and you still canât stop grinding on it.â
this is when a brutal wave hits you, your whole body convulsing as you cum, tears streaming down your face.
the overstimulation turns sharp and electric, every lick and thrust bordering on pain but so good you cannot stop moaning. sukunaâs free hand comes up to grip your hip, helping you move, forcing the rhythm faster and deeper.
you lose count of how many times you tired to get yourself off of him. your voice grows hoarse, legs trembling uncontrollably, slick pulling and sliding down onto his stomach as the mouth laps it all up greedily.
âkunaâŠâ when you go limp, too exhausted to keep moving, sukuna simply uses his strength to bounce you on the tongue himself, wrist still locked in his hold so you cannot escape.
âthatâs right. keep cumming for me,â he commands, another dark laugh rumbling through him. âthis mouth is not done with you yet. youâve pissed me off today, no stopping until youâre a sobbing, broken mess who forgets every thought except how full you feel.â
he keeps you there for what feels like hours, the tongue never slowing, the suction never easing, until your mind blanks out completely and all you can do is tremble and take it, trapped on top of him by his unyielding grip.
content.á 18+, bf!wally, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cums in his pants, praise, pet names (baby, pretty)
wally west has eaten you out plenty of times. in fact, it's his favorite hobby! he absolutely loves living in between your legs. he could never ever get tired of it, but he's been wanting to try something new for a while, spice things up.
he's working you up under his tongue with teasing kitten licks to your puffy clit, failing to hide a smirk when you whine at him. "can i- can i try something baby?" your eyebrows furrow softly at the question, looking down at him with his head leaning on your leg, flushed cheek pressed against your inner thigh.
he's rubbing your hips and giving his best pout and puppy-dog gaze. you roll your eyes, giving a small nod. it's hard to know what he's thinkingâ it is wally after all.
so when he presses the pad of his middle finger to your sensitive bud and starts vibrating it at a low pace, you're taken by surprise. "h-holy shit..." you breathe out, fingers flying to grip at his auburn hair.
it feels good, really good. better than any vibrator you've used. "feels good, huh?" he teases with that shit-eating grin plastered on his face. he leans into the hand on his head, his breath hitching when you tug at the strands.
when he pulls his vibrating digit away from you, you open your mouth to protest, but any complaints die in your throat as he plunges two fingers into your heat. he groans lowly at just how wet you are. he's already finding that spongy spot inside of you, curling and pressing his fingertips to hit it.
you cry out, "fuck!" and he's just staring up at you with those lovesick eyes, clearly so enamored with you and the fact that only he can make you feel like this.
"yeah, that's it..." he presses soft, reverent kisses to your inner thigh, "pretty pussy's s'wet" he relishes in the way you're fluttering tightly around his fingers, moaning his name.
"i bet no toy can do this..." he grins and moves to start sucking at your clit, trapping it around his mouth and pulsing his tongue. your hips buck up involuntarily at the pressure, but he keeps you steady. the added stimulation of his mouth is too muchâ a mind-numbing sensation that has you only repeating his name. wally, wally, wally. and it's like music to his ears.
"walls- fuck! waitwaitwait!" you feel your orgasm growing in your belly alarmingly quick, sneaking up on you. "shit, baby, already?" he raises his eyebrows and huffs a small, condescending chuckle. he can't exactly be talking with the way he's humping the bed underneath him, so close to spilling in his boxers.
he's speeding up the flicking of his tongue until your legs are shaking and you're mewling in pure pleasure, his fingers never faltering either. the sounds are lewd in the quiet bedroom, wet sounds of him scissoring you open and the low buzzing from his vibrations.
"there y'go..." he coos, kissing your glistening folds. "you gonna cum for me? hm?" he's teasing you, slowing his fingers down and watching you squirm, so irritated, but so needy for him.
he shuts up when you tug at his hair a little too hard, whining. "sh-" he winces, "god, okay!" he pretends to be annoyed, but he can't deny he enjoys when you boss him around. he ducks his head back down and sucks on your sensitive clit, moaning into you when you clench around his vibrating digits aggressively.
"m'cumming!" you cry, throwing your head back. your legs resting on his back shake as you gush around him, his name heavy on your tongue as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.
he finger-fucks you through your climax, until you start to shake from overstimulation. "s'too much- walls-" you pant.
"i know, pretty" he moves up from your core, slipping his fingers out with a squelch and shamelessly bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean, and god if that doesn't get you even more wet.
he moves on top of you to bring you into a deep kiss, his hands cradling your head. his precious girl.
you can taste yourself on his tongue, and you feel even more dizzy in your post-orgasm state. but you snap out of your daze pretty quickly when you feel the warm and wet sensation against your thigh, right where his crotch is.
wally's grinning at you boyishly, the wet patch on the front of his sweats painfully obvious. "you're jus' too good, baby" he whispers, so smug knowing he's ruined any other guy for you.
lying to BOXER! JASON TODD about being a virgin⊠so donât be surprised when you cum so easy!
á¶» đ đ° CONTENT WARNINGS: lying about virginity, overstimulationnnn, teasing! boxer! jason todd, MINORS DNI ă fem! virgin! reader, gentle sex, dirty talk, technical virginity loss, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, tiny bit of a strength kink!
AUTHORâS NOTE: sorry, Iâve been on a boxer! jason todd high so muchhhhh, I just love him, sorry not sorry! this is inspired by the hot concept of men lying about being virgins and cumming prematurely but make it reader because lowkey? itâs just an excuse for jason to abuse that pussy đ« dare i say i have knight/medieval! jason todd in the works rn cause finn bennett as aerion targaryen awoken my soul for knight! characters.
honestly, you werenât that much of a liar.
you didnât like to lieâ there was something weird about it. something weird about looking someone in the face and lying your ass off. you only lied a couple of times about small things; being sick, not wanting to go on a date, not wanting to hang out⊠simple things. not things like this.
and to be completely and utterly honest; you didnât exactly stop lying when it came to getting into bed with jason todd.
you knew who he wasâ a famous boxer with too many wins to count, but you acted oblivious to his boxing resume when he first approached to you at a small diner. he found you attractive when he was eating with his big brother, dickâ yes. his name is dick, doesnât like going by richardâ and dick encouraged him to approach you. so you shared your number with him and began to text him.
things fell into place and a month of talking⊠he invited you to one of his fights. a big boxing fight, heâs the biggest name on the card. and watching from the third row as jason knocked his opponent out in the third round⊠you knew damn well what was going to happen later that night.
the problem? you were not quite⊠experienced at sex.
you have masturbated, you have touched yourself and have used sex toys on yourself. youâve kissed people in high school and youâve let them touch you up⊠but nothing as far as that. just, it hasnât happened naturally. it wasnât some weird obligation thing, you werenât saving yourself for marriage or for anyone special⊠it just didnât feel right any time it came down to it, so now? as a hard working adult seeing this boxer? you knew damn well youâd have to face it.
so after celebrating jasonâs win at his favorite local burger placeâ always feeling his rough hand on yours even as you ate, you brought him to your place⊠and of course, when two hot people who are very attracted to each other are alone⊠things get hot and steamy.
he got you over the finish line with ease the moment his mouth sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue up and down and using two of his fingers in your tight cunt to cum, eating the cum off his fingers with glee as clothes came off, hair was pulled, and jason was stroking his cock with lube (mixed with a little bit of your own cum cause how could he not?).
âjason⊠mhmâŠâ you whisper, your legs already spread on the bed as your hands clasped in the bedsheets. you couldnât lie; you were absolutely nervous.
sure, youâve played with yourself beforeâ youâve stuck a dildo in your cunt a couple of times. you know what it feels like to be stretched by a silicone toy that was listed as six inches long and was about five and a half inches⊠but this was different.
this was a real dick, a real cock attached to a very attractive boxer that you just happened to get the attention of.
jason smiled down at you as his right hand stayed on his seven inch cock, his left hand gently stroking up and down your leg as his body keeps your legs open. âyouâre pretty, baby.â he whispers, leaning down and kissing your left knee. âsuch a cute girl⊠all spread fâmeâŠâ
your face heats up internally at his compliments, it felt good to be flirted with, especially by jason with his stupidly hot voice and his demeanor. âjason, mhmâŠâ you respond back, mentally preparing yourself for how this is gonna feelâ itâs just like a dildo, the stretch and the feeling, you could handle it; of course you can!
jason lined his tip up with your folds and leaned down, kissing your lips and whispering against your lips. âif you canât handle it, tell me sweetheart, ainât trying to hurt you, promise.â
you nod your head, wrapping both arms around his neck. âof course, jay⊠now fuck me.â oh the confidence you have.
he smiles at your words and press against your cunt, his tip feeling the warmness of your cunt as you seemingly let him in with no problem. heâs slow to push into you, being oh so gentle with his hips as his left hand digs into the bed, his right hand pressed on top of your abdomen as heâs careful with his ease into you.
and fuck fuck fuckâ it feels so good. it feels too good.
you could barely feel anything else besides jason stretching you with his cockâ naturally, this felt different than the dildo, the skin of jasonâs cock different than the silicone. he was so much better and thicker than the toy, warmer than the toy as wellâ everything felt overwhelming that you didnât know if you could handle much more⊠and the pathetic part was that he was only three inches in, he still had four more inches to go and you already feel like this.
âjason! jason! oh fuckkkkk, jayyyy.â you moan out, fingers digging into the back of his neck, your pussy fluttering âround him as your toes curled in the air. âs-so good⊠so full⊠oh fuck.â
he smiles above you as he kisses your moaning lips, gently continuing his movements, taking your moans as good enough to keep moving. âgood girl⊠taking me so fuckinâ well, bet this pussy misses being treated so good.â
yeah; my pussy has never been treated any which way, but obviouslyâ you couldnât fucking say that, so you just moan in response, vibrating against his skin.
you felt so warm inside, you couldnât stop your pleasure from climbing just by him pushing into you and his lips on your skin, you just couldnât help it. it felt too fucking good.
not knowing what to doâ you couldnât stop yourself, and with barely three thrusts in⊠you felt yourself slipping over the same edge that his mouth brought you over. his hips donât sputter once, his face hidden in your neck as he pressed kisses in your neckâ your eyes rolling back as your nails dug into his biceps.
it felt so fucking good, your pussy was fluttering and you felt pleasure push and flow through your veins.
jason mutters a curse as he watches you, star struck by your expression and almost surprisedâ heâs not mean about his expression either, heâs shocked he was able to make you cum this fast⊠âoh baby, you already cummed?â he questions, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your lips. âgood to know i make you feel this good.â
âahâ ah! oh fuck, jay!â you moan in overstimulation, back arching off the bed and pressing your breasts against his broad chest. âahâ âm sorry! âm sorry⊠didnât me-mean to.â
jason looks at you with soft eyes that even makes you tear up, leaning down and kissing your cheek. âdonât apologize fâme baby, donât ever apologize for cumming so beautifully.â he encourages, continuing his thrusts even with your orgasm melting through you. âthis pussy loves me, huh?â
your fingers digs down into his back as you whine, breathing deep as jason continues to ruin you. âjayâ jay, câcanât take itâ oh fuck⊠oh fuck!â
âyouâre taking it great baby, just hold out fâme, hun, youâll feel good again.â he whispers, kissing your lips.
the kiss is sloppy and barely there on your side, but you try to kiss him again, heat overtaking your entire body as overstimulation slowly subsidies and suddenly feeling that same build up as last time.
you whimper against his lips as your hands both thread through his messy black hair, nails yanking on him as you feel his cock drag against your walls again, his balls slapping against your cunt.
he moans as you squeeze around him, both hands holding onto your thighs. âbeautiful girl⊠betcha you need to cum again, huh?â
nodding your head, you bite into his shoulder, the pain of the overstimulation and the pleasure of your orgasm ruins you before you could confirm anything to him; your eyes rolling back and the scream of his name gives him the confirmation.
you just cummed again and heâs looking at you like a fucking angel on this earth.
âthere you go⊠cum, cum all over my shit, baby.â he encourages. âlemme see this pretty face fucking wrecked for me again.â
maybe lying about your virginity to your boyfriend was the best idea ever, cause it got you fucked like this!
masterlist is here! click here for more!
â KENTLUV3RâS WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and donât repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
You donât have many rules for how youâre touched, how you touch. You donât draw too many lines in the sand. But if you did, youâd make special exceptions for the days after Leon comes home from a mission.Â
The poor man, always battered and bruised in one way or another, whether his injuries are skin deep or cut below the surface. He sees so much out there, wherever he goes, only bringing back snippets of his experiences heâs willing to divulge. You have to fill in the gaps. Sometimes, you find a piece of the puzzle in what he reveals in his twilight state, stuck between earth and his dreams, as he cries out the names of people youâve never met. He never wakes up after those midnight scares, just falling back asleep in your lulling arms only to rise in the morning like nothing happened.Â
âLeon.â His name seeps through your parted lips like a prayer.
He comes through the door, already rinsed clean and smelling of antiseptic from those showers he has to take at headquarters to make sure he doesnât bring home a virus on his skin. Itâs always scrubbed raw, pinpricks of blood rising to the surface. You kiss it better as he clings to you like a sloth to a branch.Â
And he doesnât leave your side. Not as you guide him to the bath you prepared for him when you got the message he was on his way home, his arm breaking through the cast of bubbles floating across the surface to touch your hand. Not as you put away his boots and duffel bag, the contents inside it. He wraps his limbs around your waist as you finish up the dishes from the leftovers you warmed.Â
You let him, however much it slows you down, and has the potential to get on your nerves. Because he deserves it. Because he needs it. That is made apparent by the way his hands hungrily knead the flesh of your ass, your hips, feeling the slope of your waist. All desperation and greed, etched into the lines of his palms.
His requests are far and few, which is probably why youâre always so willing to comply, because you know that when he asks, itâs not based on some frivolous whim that whipped through his mind like a tornado. Itâs careful, planned, the details mulled over again and again. Thatâs his way. Itâs what makes him so good at his job. And itâs what makes him an especially talented lover.Â
So no, you rarely dismiss his requests.Â
Except for one.Â
âPlease.âÂ
âLeon,â you groan, rinsing the dish soap from your hands, toweling them off before turning around. His arms bracket either side of your body, fists dug into the ledge of the counter behind you. âNo.âÂ
âCome on,â he goads, tilting his head. He never put on another shirt after his bath, now standing in the kitchen, bare torso a sight for sore eyes. You hate his job, but you donât mind the way it carves his body into something entirely mythological. No other man looks like Leon, because no other man does what he does. A double-edge sword youâd willingly plunge into another if it meant you had him home all to yourself, not having to worry about what beast was attacking him this time around. Even if it meant those muscles expanded into a healthy pudge.
Okay, youâd miss them a little.Â
âNo, Iâm just not comfortable with that.âÂ
His brows cinch together. âNot comfortable? Baby, weâve done everything else, or do I need to remind you?â A wicked grin splashes across his face, and you swipe at him with the towel still in your hands.Â
âGross.â You dip below his arm, freeing yourself from the cage of his arms.Â
âWasnât gross when I was fucking you on that balcony,â he mumbles to himself.Â
âWhat was that?â You ask, flicking off the television, making sure the front door is locked and the candle blown outâthe little routine you have in place to make the days feel less like theyâre blurring into one glob of time when heâs gone.Â
He follows you down the hallway, into the bedroom.Â
Fresh sheets for a man returned from war. They call his name, his bones aching for relief, skin itching to be wrapped in a sarcophagus of cool, crisp cotton. He knows how much you hate putting on the fitted sheet. It warms his heart to know you do it for him every time.Â
Still, the gesture is not enough to eclipse the true desire in his heart.Â
He approaches you again, not wanting to go a moment without his flesh touching yours in one way or another. He joins you on the edge of the mattress as you face the nightstand, searching around in the drawer for lotion. His hands wrap around your middle as you apply the salve to your hands, your knees.Â
âPretty please?â He whispers in your ear, breath tickling the skin below it.Â
âIâll suffocate you, Leon.â It sounds more like a threat than a consequence.Â
He scoffs, as though offended by the accusation that dying between your thighs wouldnât be the highest honor. âYou think Iâd mind? Come on, baby. Please.âÂ
You cut your eyes at him, swaths of blonde hair framing his face like curtains, blue irises peaking through the windows between strands.Â
âI got infected,â he confesses, voice as low as the lights filtering from the lamps on either side of the bed. âCould have died out there.âÂ
âWhat?â Your mouth falls agape, your gaze widening.Â
âYep. Could have died,â he repeats. âWithout ever knowing what it felt like to sit under your pussy.âÂ
Cinching your brows, you grab one of the pillows off the bed and hit him with it. âLeon,â you gripe, drawing out the syllable. âNot funny.â You only beat him with it twice, feeling like any more swipes at his arms would be abusive toward a man apparently cured from some life-ending disease.Â
The nightgown youâre wearing rides up your thighs as you lift your arms to throw the pillow at him. He takes that as an invitation, falling back on the bed and taking you with him, his hands pressed into the flesh of your legs, yanking you up to his face. Completely thrown off balance, you canât help but become as malleable a marionette, the strings attached to your uncoordinated limbs wound tight around his fingers as he places you on his face.
And itâs heavenly. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your pussy, his tongue immediately finding your hole, licking you from seam to clit. Your hips jolt against him, and you kneel into the feeling, grinding down against this face. He groans, the vibrations slithering like live wires through your veins, icy-hot and vengeful.Â
You arch your back to anchor yourself, placing shaky hands on his torso. This new angle gives you the leverage to move your hips at a metronomic pace, the rhythm slowly building alongside your pleasure. He growls against your pussy again, mumbling something completely incoherent against your lips and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your waist, pushing you further down onto his face as he devours your pussy like a king at dinner.Â
âNeed it,â you hear him whine, the words reverberating against your clit, pushing you one step closer toward the edge. Itâs viscous and violent, the way you feel yourself begin to tumble, the sensation akin to losing your footing on a staircaseâthe anticipation of the fall, the vulnerability that races through your body when you realize youâre no longer standing on solid ground.Â
You whimper his name, alerting him to your impending climax as the coil behind your abdomen tightens, clit throbbing beneath the pace, cunt clenching around the absence of his tongue.Â
âLeon,â you gasp, the curve of your nails tugging into the skin of his chest, leaving behind half-moon indentations in their wake. âIâm so close.âÂ
âGive it to me. Come in my mouth,â he moans, and although you want nothing more than to extend your pleasure to last all night, the desperation in his voice lends you to give him exactly what he wants. Â
need leon to piss in everyyyy holeâŠâŠ. Too far?
NEVER TOO FAR!!!
Cw: anal, p in v, deep throating, Leon pisses in every hole, dubcon -> noncon at the end
Leon fucking you in a mating press, damn near ankle to ears and he canât hold it in anymore (he didnât even try), rubbing your clit so you can cum around his cock while he pisses in your pussy. Heâs not stopping either, his tip barely missing your cervix while he stretches and drills into you while he dumps his piss thatâs squirting/being pushed out of you from how rough heâs fucking you. He makes sure the press on your lower tummy so he can feel everything: the way his cock and piss fill you up at the same time, as both cum and pee trickles from out of you and onto the sheets below.
Slowly riding Leon while heâs stuffing your ass, his thumb gently circling your clit, barely any pressure. Just enough to have your empty pussy soak his pelvis. His other hand on your hip belong to guide your motions. He starts to feel a pressure in his lower tummy, he goes completely still. Telling you to get off so he can relieve himself. You shake your head, ignoring his warnings and continue to roll your hips at the same slow speed. Making sure to swallow every inches of his cock inside your rim. He leans his head back while curling his toes, fighting to hold it in. You reassure him that itâs okay, and he nods. Your hands let go of his shoulders to reach behind you, spreading your ass as you feel the warmth from his piss begin to fill you up. You lower your head against his and let out a soft moan, stilling your hips motions to take it all in.
His cock is down your throat, balls to chin, with streaks of drool slipping down. His heavy hand on the back of your head keeping it there, before fisting your hair. Pulling you back, a hard gag following as you can finally breathe and swallow normally. He tells you to stick your tongue out and you listen. Leon slaps his leaky tip on your tongue once, then twice, his hands grip the sides of your head before you can feel it.
The thin stream of piss hitting your wagging tongue, on instinct you roll your tongue back into your mouth, going against Leonâs wishes. He slaps you hard, which is enough to get you to listen, and fights to get your mouth open by pulling down on your chin. He eventually wins of course, but this time taking away the option for you to close your mouth again. He forces you to deep throat him while he returns to his previous action, pissing down your throat while yours nestled against the blonde of his pubes. His groans of relief filling the room as he starts to slowly thrust back and forth into your mouth. As if being forced to swallow his piss isnât humiliating enough, now heâs fucking it into your throat!
Fawn: sorry if thereâs any errors, this anon lowkey just came in and I RUSHED to write it LOL
you cannot tell me dick grayson doesnt have the craziest morning boner
he would wake up with you lying on your side, back pressed against his chest and sleeping soundly. all unaware from the large poking that was on your ass
poor man didnât wanna wake you up because one, it was seven in the morning. and two, you were sleeping so peacefully he couldnât bring himself to ruin your slumber
so instead, dick would just lazily grind his boner on your ass, pressing his lips on your shoulder to hold back any sounds and pant on your skin. and when you would shift and unknowingly press your ass more to his cock, he would shut his eyes and throw his head back to let out a quiet yet deep groan, his voice still laced with sleep
thatâs it, his last fucking straw
âbabeâ dick carefully nudged you, desperation in his voice. but there was no answer from you. he trailed a path of kisses from your shoulders all the way under your jaw, only to hear a small âhm?â leave your sleepy lips
âdick, itâs too earlyâ you mumbled, eyes still closed and about to reach for dickâs head and press his face more into your neck. but your eyes slowly fluttered open from something poking and rubbing on your ass
âdick? what are youâ"
âplease, babyâŠâ you could hear the slight desperation in his morning voice, his hips not stopping and still slowly rubbing on your ass. âwoke up with the craziest boner⊠fuck, i need youâÂ
scratch âslightâ, he was desperate desperate. begging from behind your back at what, seven in the morning?
you let out a breathless sigh from dick already nudging your panties down slowly, giving him a slow nod and already closing your eyes to fall back asleep. âjust donât wake me up, i need to be up soonâ and as a confirmation, you spread your legs a bit more and pressed your ass more to his cock
god, that was all he needed to hear
âi promiseâ dick whispered in your ear, thumb rubbing small circles on your cunt and feeling your arousal slowly form. âyou were always too good for me, thank you babyâ a small whimper left your lips. even when you were asleepâ or at least trying toâ his touch always pulled out reactions from you
he took his thumb off to pull his boxers down and line his hard and tip with your pussy, pre cum slightly glistening from the head. a relieved sigh left dickâs lips when he began to slowly insert his cock in, the familiar warm walls of your cunt greeting him with a welcome he so desperately needed.Â
âthaaatâs itâ he murmured on your neck, one hand shifting to slide under your shirt and fondle with your boobâ which made you let out a small moanâ while the other gripped on your hip. âfuck, just what i neededâ
your lips slightly parted for a small moan to slip, your closed eyes now rolling to the back of your head as dick moved your bra strap from your shoulder to leave open mouthed kisses while sinking more of his length in you
and once his cock was fully buried in you, dick stayed like that just to take your warmth in, groans humming on your skin and brushing his thumb on your nipple. a gasped moan left your lips, the sleep slowly fading from your body and your eyes fluttering open
"dickâ you whined, squirming your ass as a sign for him to move. âi need you to move. pleaseâ
he let out a chuckle from behind and you could practically feel a lopsided grin form on his lips. âthought you wanted to sleâ ohhh fuckâ
dick moaned when he felt you bury his head more into the collar of your neck and your fingers sliding into his hair, his cock twitching in you as a response. you let out a small chuckle but it trailed into a moan when dick slowly rolled his hips to your ass
âattagirlâ he groaned, sending another lazy yet deep roll of his hips to your pussy and going crazy from how you were sucking him in. âjust like thatâ
the depth of dickâs thrusts was making up for the paceâ which was more than enough since he was already huge. and it did nothing but make the sleep fade from both you and him
âdickâ oh godâ you let out a breathless sigh from his tip nudging deep enough that it was hitting all the right angles, your back arching instinctively and pressing your ass more to his hips for more.Â
and to add more with his lazy yet deep thrusts and groping, dick whispered all kinds of things to you in that morning voice you loved while fondling with your boob
âthatâs it, gorgeous. take it for meâ
âlook at her go, fuuuuck. all for meâ
âcmon pretty girl, give it to me. make a messâ
another deep roll of dickâs thrusts and it made you clench all over his cock for your orgasm to come crashing, broken chants of his name leaving your fully gaped lips and your wide eyes almost seeing stars from how hard you came
he let out a groan, the thrusts now sounding wet as he felt his own orgasm slowly approach. dickâs hand from your boobs trailed up to tilt your head up for his lips to meet yours in a slow, intimate kiss that were filled with pants
one last roll of his hips made dick moan on your mouth, feeling his warm cum now fill you up as his cock still slowly dragged itself to fuck his cum in you. a pleasured sigh left yours into dickâs mouth as he kept murmuing small âthank you, oh thank you so muchâ repeatedly in your mouth
his cock finally stilled in your pussy, now soft and feeling the warmth of your pussy and his cum now buried to the brim in you. slowly, both of you pulled away from the kiss with a trail of saliva before it broke immediately
your gaze met with dickâs blue ones as both of you were catching your breaths. his hand shifted to cradle your cheek and his lips panted a smile, tucking a messy hair strand behind your ear
but right where he could kiss you again more softer and tell you what a good job you did, the alarm began to ring on the nightstand
wc: ~8.4k | cw: viltrumite gojo x viltrumite reader! smut, arranged reproductive pairing, reproductive coercion, breeding/pregnancy kink kinda, loss of virginity, fingering, rough sex, creampie, possessiveness, contains minor spoilers for viltrumite lore in invincible
summary: with viltrum on the brink of extinction, your father selects the strongest male of your generation to help you preserve its dying bloodline.
a/n: this one has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE i'm sorry babesâŠpossible part two maybe??? also, shoutout to @yanderenightmare for the inspo to write about viltrumite gojo !!
Ë˰âą*ââ·
VILTRUM WAS ONCE a planet so bountiful its end seemed impossible to ever imagine.Â
A world inhabited by billions of the strongest beings to ever grace the universe, where power was not a rarity but rather a birthright, and might thrived in such abundance it bled into the very architecture of the empire itself.Â
Viltrum did not just survive for millennia, it had spent them conquering. The Viltrumites bent a myriad of civilizations to their knees and called it order, this is what they were made to doâto inflict brutality upon those weaker, which in turn, made Viltrum prosper. A race of people so certain of its own superiority, extinction had never once been considered a possibility.Â
ThenâŠthe Scourge Virus came, and with it, came ruin.Â
The disease spread throughout Viltrum like a curse; hollowing the planet from the inside out. Billions were reduced to mere fractions; certainty tainted with panic, and proud legacy careened into desperate survival.Â
What once had been a world overflowing with life, power, and conquest was left gasping for air, which may have been rightfully deserved; a karmic outcome of sorts. All of that cruelty, all that destruction they inflicted among others was now occurring to their own people, with no cure, no way of stopping it. The virus claimed countless lives, taking those who were supposedly the strongest in a short matter of time, and spreading far too quickly to ever contain it.Â
Now? Viltrum stands not as it once was, but as a graveyard dressed in imperial red and pearly white. A planet that was so prosperous it seemed eternal now lingers on the verge of extinction, its future balanced precariously between dwindling bloodlines and the threat of yet another warâone looming close enough to feel it in the air itself. The Coalition of Planets awaits Viltrum like carrion beyond the stars, united in grief, eager to finish what the virus started.Â
And in the center of it all, sits your father.
Grand Regent Thragg.Â
Ruler of what remains, the keeper of a rapidly dying empire and the strongest Viltrumite the planet had ever borne witness toâŠwith the sole exception of Satoru Gojo, of course.
And he has summoned you without explanation, how typical of him. When you are as powerful and feared as he, no one dares to ask why, afraid it may be the very last thing they say.Â
The corridor leading to the throne room seems longer today, lined in stone the shade of dried blood; the palace, similar to everything else left on this world, does not feel alive anymore. It feels artificial, preserved, like the bones of something once magnificent is now forced to pretend it has not already rotted from the inside out.Â
You hate being summoned here alone, not out of fearâno, you fear nothing, not even him, but because you already have a rising suspicion as to why he has requested it.
Your eighteenth birthday had passed not long ago, you are an adult now, a fully grown one in the eyes of Viltrum. And on a planet with so few women left, you can think of only a handful of reasons a father like yours would wish to speak to you in private.
The doors part at your approach with a low groan and you step into the vast chamber with your spine straight and your chin high, red light spilling through the massive windows and painting the floor in the color of fresh violence.Â
Your father stands with his back to you, hands clasped behind him, staring out over the tethered remnants of Viltrum below. You stop a respectful distance away and drop into a kneel, arm crossed over your heart with your head bowed. Despite the Grand Regent being your own flesh, he still commands your respect just as he does everyone else.Â
âFather.â
He does not turn immediately, does not say a thing. Instead, he lets the silence stretch until the one standing within it begins to feel small; he has always wielded silence well in this way.Â
Then, at last, his pragmatic voice cuts through the room, âDaughterâŠLet me explain your future to you.â
The words settle cold and heavy in your stomach. It is how he says it, as if your future has already been decided, written into scripture before you were ever born. Slowly, you lift your head. Thragg turns then and there is nothing soft in his face, there rarely is. Yet, tonight he somehow looks even less like your father and more like what he truly isâthe ruler of a wretched world, a man so thoroughly carved from purpose that tenderness had never been useful to him.Â
âYou are aware of our circumstances,â He says.
âYes.â
âThe number of remaining females is no longer sufficient enough to justify unnecessary risk.â
Your brows draw together unwillingly, "Unnecessary risk,â You repeat flatly.
His expression does not so much as flicker, it stays as hard as stone, âYou will no longer participate in combat in the same capacity.â
For a second, you simply stare at him. You understand what he means, quite perfectly, and heat crawls up your spine at once, âWe are on the brink of war with the Coalition,â You say, rising from your kneel in one smooth motion, âAnd you want me toâŠsit out?â
âI want to preserve what remains of Viltrum.â
A humorless laugh escapes you, unable to bite it back, âBy sidelining your heir?â
âBy ensuring my heir survives long enough to matter.â
The room falls still and silent once again. Cruelâthat is what it is. How can his tone remain so calm and certain as if your anger is nothing more than air moving through the atmosphere?
You take a step closer, jaw tight, âI am not some delicate thing to be hidden away while everyone else goes to war in my place.â
âNo,â Thragg agrees, âYou are not.â
And, somehow, his agreement is worse. Because he is not suggesting you are weak, of course not, you share his genetics, there is no way you could be weak. ButâŠyour strength no longer matters.
âAs my daughter and as my heir, your purpose has changed.â
Your fingers curl at your sides, âMy purpose.â
âYes.â
The words come out sharper now, barbed with disbelief, âYou would remove me from battle when our species is balanced on the edge of extinction?â
His gaze stays fixed on you, âYour value to Viltrum no longer lies there.â
Your value.Â
Now, it is not measured by how many enemies you can kill, but by what your body can produce. You hold his gaze anyway, looking away would feel too much like yielding and you are not ready to do that, not yet, âSo that is what this is? You drag me in here to tell me I have been repurposed?â
If the word offends him, he gives no indication. Though, majority of the time he is unreadable regardless, âThe future of our world will not be secured through sentiment,â He states, âIt will only be secured through blood.â
You purse your lips, âAnd you have already chosen whose, I suppose.â
âYes.â
No surprise there. He would never summon you for a discussion he had not already resolved in his own mind. Men like Thragg do not ask, they decide and inform. Still, your stomach twists with something tight and ugly all the same, because there are only so many names he would consider suitable for a task like this.Â
âThe bloodlines of surviving females are too closely shared with those of the remaining males. Any offspring produced from such pairings would carry an unacceptable risk of deficiency.âÂ
Though you were already aware of this. The survivors were not merely few in number; they were descended from the same handful of families, their bloodlines crossing so many times that there was hardly any meaningful distance left between them.
Your fatherâs voice stays level and unfeeling, âYour motherâs lineage was preserved separately from the central Viltrumite population for generations. Through her, your blood remains sufficiently distinct from that of the surviving males.â
You knew this as well. Your mother had been descended from an isolated Viltrumite branch, one that had resided beyond the empireâs central territories long enough to avoid the tangled ancestry now burdening those left behind.Â
It was what made you valuableâthe fact that enough of your blood was different. However, it should not feel isolating. On Viltrum, usefulness is a virtue. Value is an honor. To be necessary is to matter. And yet your arms fold over your chest in silent protest.Â
âThe male chosen for you, thereforeâŠâ Thragg trails off, choosing his verbiage thoughtfully, â...Could not be selected carelessly.â
You swallow once, though it does nothing to alleviate the heat bubbling in your chest, âWho is it?â
Thragg does not speak the answer. Instead, with all the chilling ease of a man summoning a soldier rather than a future father to his grandchildren, he gives a short nod to the doors and they part at once.Â
Satoru Gojo steps through them.Â
The breath leaves your lungs so fast it nearly hurts.Â
He is the strongest besides your father. The Viltrumite they have named the Honored One.Â
Of course he was the one chosen.Â
He enters the throne room alone, tall, broad, and pale in the flood of red light, white hair catching gold where it spills across his forehead. Even now, beneath nothing but imperial summons and the weight of your fatherâs gaze, he moves with that same impeccable steadiness he carries into battleâunhurried, precise, devastatingly self-possessed. Eighteen years old, the same as you, and already spoken of as if he were something much older and inevitable.Â
He stops at your side and lowers himself into a kneel, one fist over his heart, but you see itâan almost imperceptible flicker of his eyes in your direction, before they lock onto your father, âGrand Regent.â
Up close, the sight of him is even more striking. Now he is not merely a name or the strongest of this generation or the boy you have spent your whole life seeing from the edges of training halls and state assemblies; always near, never touchable. No, now he is here, beside you, beautiful in the severe, infuriating way only very dangerous men ever are.Â
And as he stands here next to you, in this context, the reality lands all at once. You see exactly why your father chose him. Worseâyou see exactly how easily Viltrum would use a man like this again and again if allowed.Â
A male like Gojo, with blood like his, strength like his, a body like his, would never be left to breed with one woman unless someone made it impossible. Something possessive flares at that thought, shocking even you.Â
Your fatherâs voice remains level, âSatoru Gojo.â
Satoru lifts his head just enough to meet his cold gaze, âYou summoned me.â
âI did,â Thragg looks between the two of you as if assessing nothing more intimate than a military resource, âThe future of Viltrum requires deliberate preservation. My daughter is the only surviving female whose bloodline remains sufficiently distinct from that of our males and she has reached physical maturity. Among the surviving males, several could have served the role. But, I have chosen you.â
For the first time, something shifts in Gojo. There is a tightening in the line of his jaw as he comes to the understanding that there were others considered for this position. Older males, more seasoned veterans, men with longer battle records and centuries of experience behind them, some that have even fathered offspring before. Despite thatâŠyour father still chose him.Â
The knowledge pleases him, but he buries it well. It stirs some private, sharpened satisfaction that does not touch his face. His sense of superiority among the Viltrumites spikes ever so slightly.Â
But beside him, you catch the faintest change in his posture, as if another male standing where he now stands would have sat poorly with him.Â
Thragg continues, âYou understand what is being asked of you.â
Oh, Satoru knows. Selective breeding is not a foreign concept to Viltrum. In reality, it is the standard to assure the most sufficient children with the perfect genetics. A simple arrangement between males and females, nothing more than a means of reproduction. Though, this time around it is much different. This is a last ditch effort for salvation.Â
âYes,â He answers.Â
âAnd you accept it.â
Satoru does not hesitate, âI do.â
The words land strangely because there is no reluctance in them, no visible uncertainty. They lack eagerness, too. Nothing crude, just acceptance, like this is another duty placed into his hands. And for some reason, that bothers you more than if he had smirked or displayed smugness.Â
You look at him fully then andâŠ
God, he is handsome.
That only causes the flare of possession to deepen.Â
Because if your father has chosen himâthis beautiful, terrible thing at your side who is so composed he may as well have been curated from the same stone as the palace, then you know exactly what Viltrum would do with him when given the chance.Â
Use him.Â
Broadly, strategically, repeatedly, everywhere.Â
No.Â
If your body is to become strategy, then you refuse to become the first stop in a wider plan for his.Â
âIf I am to bear children for Viltrum,â You announce, cutting through the room before either of them can continue, âThen I will do it with him,â Thragg says nothing, neither does Satoru. You keep your eyes on the latter anyway, âBut only him. He will not take other women. Not on Viltrum. Not elsewhere. Not later. If I am to do this, then he belongs only to me.â
The words ring through the throne room like steel and for one second, nobody moves, nobody even breathes. Your father studies you with a cool, almost curious stillness. Next to you, Satoru remains composed, but there is the faintest shift in himâsmall enough that another may miss it. A sharpening of focus.
You already can assume what your father is thinking. Monogamy? That is unheard of on Viltrum. Especially whilst on the brink of extinction? It is an almost offensive demand. But, Thragg is in no position to argue. If this is the only way to get you to accept the terms of the arrangement, then he has no other choice.Â
He speaks first, opting for something you did not expect, âYou are possessive.â
Your lip curls, âI feel it is practical.â
His gaze lingers on you a moment longer, then lands on Satoru, âMy daughter has made her condition clear.â
Satoruâs eyes flick to you again, only for a breath, but it is long enough for you to feel the full, unnerving weight of them on your face. Then he says, just as calmly as before, âUnderstood.â
No sign that he finds the condition unreasonable at all, despite it being unreasonable as ever.Â
You are not sure why that should matter to you this much, but it does.Â
Your father seems satisfied enough by the answer and inclines his head, âIt is done,â Then his eyes harden further with expectation, âDo not delay.â
The meaning of it burns through the room at once and you hate that your body recognizes it instantly. You hate even more that some traitorous part responds.Â
Thragg says nothing else because there is no need to, the dismissal implicit now, both heavy and absolute. Your jaw tightens and without another word, you turn for the doors and hear Satoru move beside you a second later; the sound of his steps falling into place with yours as the two of you leave the throne room beneath your fatherâs cold, watchful silence.Â
The corridor beyond feels longer now, narrower too, and for several strides, neither of you speaks, but the quiet between you is not empty. It is crowded with the knowledge of where you are being sent and what is meant to happen once you get there.Â
You can feel him beside you in a way that makes no sense and all the sense in the world; the hushed gravity of a man you have known the shape of your entire life and yet have never once stood this close to.Â
Distance has always separated you both and now, there is none left.Â
You cannot find it in yourself to look at him first, unable to trust what seeing him again so clearly might do to the uneasiness weighing on your chest. So instead you keep your eyes dead ahead, on the corridor created out of blood-colored stone, and let your mind do what it has done for years when it comes to Satoru Gojoâcircle him without touching.Â
The boy who was always the strongest, the one your father observed differently, the one whom others measured themselves against and did not live to tell the tale. The weapon who kept becoming more beautiful with age in that unfairly infuriating way, all pale severity and blue eyes so brilliant and the kind of body Viltrum revered without need to say it aloud.Â
And nowâŠhe walks beside you because your father has decided that he will father your children.Â
You almost miss a step as the thought of that haunts you. Beside you, he is still silent as ever. Entirely too composed for a man who has just been informed he is expected to bed the Grand Regentâs daughter before the hour is out. That irritates you too. Everything about him seems to.Â
By the time the two of you reach your chambers, your pulse is annoyingly frantic. The doors part and you step inside first. Red light spills through thin windows cut high in the walls, dragging long shadows over everything in its wake. A broad bed sits in the center, too neatly made to feel inviting, more like another imperial command waiting to be obeyed than somewhere either of you might willingly lay. A basin gleams near the far wall along with folded linens and a low table. It is obvious the room had been carefully prepared for this moment.Â
You hear the doors close behind him and now you are entirely alone with Satoru Gojo, and the crushing expectation of what is meant to happen next.Â
For an awkward while, neither of you says anything nor dares breathe too loudly. Genuinely, it is absurd. The arrangement had already been made, the purpose is as clear as day, and the room itself may as well shout well what are you two waiting for?
Regardless, the both of you simply stand there.Â
Until, at last, unable to bear the silence any longer, you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight and a second later, after the briefest pause, he does the same. He is far enough to not touch, but close enough to be painfully aware of him anyway.Â
And all you can do is stir over the fact that you know exactly what is expected and still have no idea how to begin.Â
You burn holes into the floor, then finally turn your head, âSoâŠâ His gaze shifts to you, âYou are the strongest.â
The reply comes laced with that maddening calmness, âThat is what they say.â
It is such a dry response that you nearly laugh, but refuse to. You let your eyes drag over him openly since there is no point in pretending otherwise now. This is the first time in your life you have been permitted to look at him this long. There is even more to appreciate when being this close.Â
The broadness of his shoulders, his posture is perfect in that arrogantâViltrumite way, the pale beauty of his face works cohesively with the white uniform he adorns. A body honed by violence, primed to be one of the most formidable killers Viltrum had ever produced. You had known, abstractly, what he was. Feared it, perhaps. Admired it too, in the private way one admires storms from a distance.Â
Distance was much kinder than whatever this is.Â
And he is looking at you too. In recognition, maybe. As if he is seeing you clearly for the first time as well and finding the view more complicated than anticipated.Â
âYou accepted quickly,â You note.
âThere was no reason not to.â
You turn your gaze away from him again, to the crimson light stretched across the floor, âNone at all?â
âYour father did not summon me for my opinion.â
âAnd that does not trouble you?â
Satoru is silent for a moment, then says, âIt is what is required.â
You huff a frustrated breath, âIt is easy for you to say.â
His gaze rests on your face, âBecause I was not removed from the battlefield.â
You look at him after he speaks and for the first time since he entered the throne room, something in his countenance seems to slip from pure unreadability. There is nothing so openly dangerous, but understanding, possibly? At least he is not stupid enough or selfish enough to feign ignorance.Â
âNo. You were not,â Your voice comes out harsher for the restraint wrapped around it, âI have spent my life being raised to fight. To conquer. To rule after him, if it came to that. And now, suddenly, I am told that none of it matters as much as what my body can produce.â
Satoru says nothing and you almost snap at him for it, until you realize he is not silent out of indifference. He is simply listening. You laugh this time, though it is small and bitter, âAnd youâyou are told you are to father the next generation and you kneel and say understood.â
He does not flinch, âYes.â
You turn toward him more fully, âThat is all?â
âThat is what a man in my position is for.â
His answer is what helps you remember that he is still only eighteen too. Young, but a grown man. Spoken of like he is some towering inevitability and some warrior fated to reshape whatever war he enters, but he is really, the same as you. He is merely just another body the empire has deemed useful enough to claim fully and use in this predicament. You should not find that as disarming as you do.Â
âAnd my conditionâŠyou accepted that quickly too.â
At that, something almost flickers in his blues, âI did.â
âYou do not mind being told where you may and may not go?â
The corner of his mouth shifts so faintly you nearly miss it, âNo.â
You narrow your eyes, âNo?â
âYou asked for exclusivity,â He says, âI understood.â
âThat is not what I asked.â
âThen what are you asking now?â
The question catches you off guard. You stare at him a minute too long, suddenly very aware that this is the first true exchange the two of you ever had, and it is already beginning to feel less like politics. You know you need to answer carefully, but what comes out is, âI am asking whether it offends you.â
His eyes stay on yours, âNo.â
The reply is immediate enough to feel sincere, âWhy not?â
Satoru pauses long enough that you see him consider the words before speaking them, âBecause your father chose me for you,â He says, âNot the others.â
Your breath catches in your throat. Perhaps, buried under the composure, there is something in that answer that feels a little too close to what had flashed through your own mind in the throne room, âThat sounds very pleased with itself.â
âIt is only true.â
âIt is rather arrogant.â
The corner of his mouth lifts, âI am simply correct.â
Then the room falls quiet once more. And now that the real questions have been answered, the reason why you are here at all sits there between you. Your eyes drift to the door and you drop some of the formalities now that your partnership has become more solidified, âI wouldnât be surprised if heâs waiting just outside it.â
Something similar to amusement ghosts across Satoruâs face, âI imagine heâd be disappointed by how long weâve spent sitting here.â
You turn your head and glare at him, âYouâre irritating.â
âWould you prefer it were someone else?â
No. You would not. Not at all.
The answer rises too quickly to be anything but true and the fact that he likely sees it in your expression before you can hide it only makes your blood run hotter. Whatever trace of amusement that had touched his face disappears again, leaving only that ridiculous poise.Â
Your fingers tighten in the sheets under you, âI donât know what to expectâŠâ
Satoru knows what you mean by that and he, too, does not know, being just as inexperienced as you, âNeither do I.â
The realization changes him. Beneath all of who he is, you can glimpse the outline of something startlingly young. Your gaze drops, unwillingly, to his hands where they rest on his thighs. Large, scarred, capable of splitting bodies open without a second thought and little effortâthe thought of those same hands touching you should terrify you. Instead, it oddly entices you.Â
âThis is for Viltrum,â You mutter, unsure whether you are reminding him or yourself.Â
He nods, eyes fixated on you, âYes. For Viltrum.â
For Viltrum.Â
For survival. For bloodline. For the empire.Â
Though when the words settle, they almost immediately begin to sound thin.Â
And then he moves, slightly, one hand lifting from his thigh and your pulse jumps so hard it makes you angry. His hand comes to rest, soft as a whisper, against the side of your face and the touch is so tender it startles you more than roughness would have. You stare at him; this is the same man who tears enemies apart, the same man your people call honored, and yet his thumb brushes against the line of your cheek like you are something precious he must preserve.Â
He isâŠgentle? How strange.Â
Then, slowly, his hand slips from your cheek to the back of your neck. He leans in enough that the air shifts and you feel his breath before you feel anything else. Your fingers curl in the bedspread, somehow, he notices, âIf you want me to stopâŠsay so.â
You simply shake your head and close the remaining gap yourself; the first kiss is not graceful whatsoever. It is tentative and weird and misaligned from inexperience, your noses brush and your mouths meet with all the awkwardness of two people who have never done this before and are trying very hard not to show it. The sheer absurdity of it almost makes you pull back.Â
But then, his hand tightens at the back of your neck and he kisses you again, more certainly, and suddenly the awkwardness is no longer the dominant thing. Now, there is only heat. His mouth is softer than it should be, his hand at your neck is steadier than you expected, the broadness of his body when he shifts closer to you makes the bed dip beneath your combined weight, and a small sound slips out of you, causing Satoru to draw back an inch.Â
His eyes are brighter, mouth parted slightly from the kiss, breath no longer as measured as it was previously.
âYouâre still being careful,â You murmur.
âI said I would stop if you wanted.â
âAnd I didnât.â
God no, you definitely did not.Â
If anything, your body has only betrayed you more and more with every touch and every brush of his lips. It is becoming harder to remember that this is meant to be something practical. Something done for survival. For duty. For Viltrum.Â
Well, because practical things are not supposed to make your skin this hot. They are not supposed to make your stomach knot when his hand slides from the back of your neck to your waist, tightening to pull you properly into him.Â
Not getting another second to think, his mouth is on yours again, hotter now, and your hand fists the front of his uniform hard enough to wrinkle the pristine white. Satoru reacts by moving quicker, undoing one clasp of yours, then another gives way beneath deft fingers while your own fumble at his.Â
Eventually, within minutes, the bed is littered in pieces of white and grey, and when his hands find your skin for the first time, the air leaves your lungs all over again. Seated beside him, turned slightly inward, your bare thighs are practically touching. His hands rest at your waist where the last piece of your uniform had fallen away, large enough that his fingers span the width of it.Â
For a moment, Satoru only looks at you and there is nothing discreet about it. His eyes graze over every inch you have exposed to himâyour breasts, the soft plane of your stomach, the smooth skin between your thighs, as if the sight requires study. The open astonishment on his face makes heat crawl from the center of your chest all the way to your cheeks and down between your legs.
You have been looked at your entire life, it is something you are not new to. You have been assessed for strength, examined for injury, watched in combat to determine whether the Grand Regentâs daughter might someday prove worthy of inheriting his place, but never like this. Never as though someone has forgotten what he intended to say simply because you are sitting before him completely naked and without anything left to hide behind.Â
Your first instinct is to cover yourself, although pride prevents it, âStop staring.â
His gaze rises to your face, hands remaining settled at your waist, âIâm looking.â
âThat is the same thing.â
âNo,â He answers, almost absently, âIt is not.â
His fingers begin to move before you can find a response, tracing the curve of your waist with a caution that feels absolutely absurd coming from him. These hands have broken bone and torn through flesh without hesitation, yet now his fingertips barely skim your skin, mapping you with an uncertain fascination.Â
The touch makes your stomach tighten and he notices immediately; his attention sharpens, following the small reaction as if he means to memorize it, âYou trembled.â
âYou touched me.â
âIâm aware.â
The faint arrogance in his tone nearly makes you roll your eyes, but then his thumb passes slowly over your hip and every clever response abandons you. Still, you refuse to be the only one left exposed beneath such scrutiny, letting your gaze drop to him.Â
Without the white severity of his uniform, Satoru appears somehow larger. You always knew he was built like he was carved from stone by gods themselves, but none of him is softened by the fabric anymore, and seeing him like this and this close is entirely different.Â
Your eyes travel over the firm planes of his chest, the powerful lines of his stomach, and the narrow taper of his waist. The strength Viltrum praises so proudly lives everywhere beneath his skin, every part of him honed through violence.Â
Then you notice the scars. There are more than you expected. Thin, silvery marks cross his shoulders and ribs, remnants of injuries severe enough to leave evidence even after self-healing had done its job. One cuts diagonally across the middle of his chest and fades dangerously close to his heart. Your hand lifts without warning, tips of your fingers following the pale line; Satoru goes still.
âWhat caused this?â
âI donât remember.â
You glance up at him, puzzled as to how he could forget, âIt nearly struck your heart.â
âIt did strike my heart.â
Your fingers halt because of the way he says it so casually, âAnd you survived.â
The corner of his mouth shifts, âClearly.â
You narrow your eyes at him, but your palm remains against his chest. His heart beats beneath it, faster and more erratic than it should be.Â
âYou have scars too,â He mentions, hand leaving your waist long enough to comb over a mark along your side. The tenderness of the gesture feels more intimate than nakedness itself.Â
âTraining.â
âWith your father?â
âWho else?â
Something dark passes briefly through his expression, then his gaze drops again, following the line of your body, and your own attention drifts lower in response. The sight awaiting you there wipes every thought from your mind.Â
His cock is half-hard and intimidatingly large, resting heavy upon the cut of his lower abdomen. It twitches under your stare, thickening further as it rises with prominent veins running along the shaft; flushed tip already glistening.Â
You cannot help but wonder how something of that size is supposed to fit inside you, the sheer girth alone looks impossibleâfar too wide to take without splitting you open. Your lips part on a shaky exhale and Satoru follows your stare, and for the first time that evening, uncertainty breaks visibly through his composure. A faint blush colors the tops of his cheeks.Â
âThat may be a problem,â You murmur, voice quieter than you intended.Â
His brows draw together, âYou are Viltrumite.â
âThat does not make every part of me indestructible.â
âIt nearly does.â
You glare at him, but the edge of amusement touching his mouth disappears when he realizes that your apprehension is genuine. His hand returns to your waist as he says, âLie back.â
Your pulse stumbles, and instantly, you think he is ready to start and get this over with. Finish the task that has been assigned to him. Get you pregnant.Â
But his voiceâŠit is low and careful, so you find yourself obeying his words, shifting farther onto the mattress. Satoru helps guide you down, one hand supporting your back until your shoulders meet the sheets, and he follows you without hesitation.Â
The mattress lowers beneath his weight as he moves between your parted legs, kneeling there while you lie under him. His thighs press against the backs of yours, broad shoulders blocking part of the red light spilling through the windows. The position leaves you entirely open to him, legs threatening to close on instinct, but Satoruâs hands settle lightly on your knees before they can; merely holding them there as his striking eyes lift to yours, and he waits.Â
Slowly, you let your legs relax, and only then, does his gaze drop. The look of wonder that crosses his face is enough to make you want to hide all over again.Â
His hand travels down the inside of your thigh, rough pads of his fingertips running along a path that leaves your skin burning behind them. When he reaches the slick heat between your legs, his touch turns tentativeâcurious. He explores without a semblance of knowledge, parting your folds with two thick fingers, spreading the wetness gathered there, dragging them up to circle your swollen clit.Â
When your hips jerk against the mattress, he knows he may have done something right. He immediately looks up for confirmation, âThat affected you.â
You swallow the thick lump in your throat, breathing out a strangled, âIt...did.â
He repeats the motion, firmer, rubbing slow circles over that seemingly sensitive bud, while his vibrant blues stays fixed on your face. Pleasure sparks sharp through you, drawing a few unsteady breaths that he clearly hears, âDoes this feel good?â
You look away, cheeks burning, embarrassment the main thing you feel. You are not a being who is supposed to feel pleasure, â...I think so.â
âYou think?â
âI have nothing to compare it to.â
Recognition makes his expression soften, âI donât either.â
But he keeps going, still cautious, though more deliberate now. He replicates what made you react, studying every tremor and every tightening of your hands in the sheets with unnerving concentration, âYou areâlearning very quickly.â
Satoru hums thoughtfully, transfixed on the sight of your pretty face and his fingers glistening in your folds, âI usually do.â
Even now, his arrogance finds a way to survive. You might have insulted him for it had another movement of his fingertips against your clit not stolen the words from you.Â
He watches your expression change and something hungry begins to replace the wonder in his eyes. Now that he has discovered he can make you feel good, the knowledge of that pleases him far more than it should.
Growing increasingly impatient and curious whether the act might feel as good to him as his touch seems to feel to you, he withdraws his soaked hand from your core and disappointment flashes through you before you can hide it. He notices that too, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.
But he doesn't move yet, attention dropping to his fingers. They are glittering in the red light, coated so thoroughly in the viscous wetness of your cunt that it shines over his knuckles. Satoru stares, turning his hand slightly as if examining the aftermath of some unfamiliar phenomenon.
Heat rushes instantly to your cheeks, "What is it?"
His thumb drags slowly over the slick coating his fingertips, spreading it between them. The expression on his face fades from curiosity and into unmistakable gratification, "This came from you."
You scoff, slightly embarrassed by his intrigue in it, "Obviously."
He looks at you then, "Because I touched you."
The satisfaction dripping from his tone makes your stomach clench, "Don't look so proud of yourself."
"Why shouldn't I be?"
Before you can respond, he brings his coated fingers back between your thighs, dragging them one more time through your folds as though unwilling to waste the evidence; the touch pulls another small twitch from you.
Satoru is no idiot. Inexperienced, yes. But he can decipher what this means.
Your body wants him.
And in knowing that, he feels much more confident when he shifts closer between your thighsâthe considerable size of him becomes impossible to ignore once again. His cock ghosts over your entrance as his hand slides beneath one of your legs, lifting it carefully as he settles over you.
One arm braces beside your head while the other remains at your thigh, trying to understand angles, bodies, where he is meant to go. Perhaps, it would be almost funny if the sight of him between your legs did not make your pulse tick so violently.Â
He notches the blunt head of his cock into your tight cunt, stretching you open with a burning pressure that forces a sharp inhale from your chest and every muscle in your body tenses; he stops right away, not pushing an inch further, eyes finding yours, âTell me if I hurt you.â
âYou probably will.âÂ
His jaw tightens, and for all his power, he looks wary now, âThen tell me how much.â
You reach for him, wrapping one hand around his muscular bicep and drawing him closer, âI will.â
He studies your face for another moment, searching for uncertainty, but whatever he finds seems to satisfy him. His forehead lowers to yours, breath warm against your mouth, and he pushes in another inch, yet this time, the effect on him is immediate. Satoruâs breath leaves him in a rasping, fractured sound, so unlike anything you have ever heard from him, or anyone else for that matter, that your eyes fly to his face.Â
His entire body goes rigid above you, the arm braced next to your head locks at the elbow, muscle drawn taut, while his other hand clamps around your thigh. His expression is almost impossible to comprehend, appearing somewhat stricken with the violent shock of sensation.
You are so warm around himâŠso tight, it knocks the air straight from his lungs. He parts his lips, brows pulled together, brilliant eyes gone unfocused as though every thought inside his head has been extinguished at once. How is anything supposed to feelâŠthis good?
And when he thrusts himself inside you deeper, his hand flees from your thigh and fists in the sheet beside you, the fabric straining under his strength, seams tearing in his fingers; but he does not seem to realize any of it, too lost in the feeling of you squeezing around his cock that he keeps sinking in deeper and deeper, until heâs buried to the hilt.Â
He forces himself to stay motionless, every line of his body trembling with the effort to not pull back and fully stuff his length inside you again. It is quite funny, for all the ease with which Satoru can dominate a battlefield, he seems to have relatively no command here.Â
At the same time, while he is above you losing his mind entirely, the pressure in your lower belly becomes almost unbearable. Your fingers close around his biceps, nails clawing hard enough to leave crescent moons in skin that ordinarily resists mostly everything.Â
His focus returns as soon as he feels it, âDoes it hurt?â
You nod slightly, biting your lower lip, âA little.â
Although you are particularly used to enduring pain, essentially every Viltrumite isâtrained to withstand even the most brutal injuries, this form of pain is too intimate to handle and surprisingly, he cares a great deal about your comfort. You half expected him not to care whatsoever; a dangerous Viltrumite who has perhaps killed many of his own kind, worries of harming you. How absurd.Â
He becomes stiller, which should not be physically possible, but of course he defies all odds. His eyes search your face, all hints of hunger momentarily eclipsed by concern, âI can stop.â
âNo,â Your answer comes too quickly.Â
His jaw clenches so hard the muscle pops, âBut you said it hurts.â
âIt does.â
âThenââ
âJust wait.â
It should not shock you that he listens, yet it does. The strongest male of your generation remains frozen over you, chest rising unevenly, hand still tangled in the ruined sheet as if it is the only thing preventing him from losing control completely. You breathe through the discomfort of being stretched out and little by little, the pain begins to subside.Â
Your body adjusts around his girth, the unfamiliar pressure becoming something warmer, almost intoxicating even. The grip you have on his arms loosens and instead, your hands slide upward over the hard curvature of his shoulders and onto his back.Â
Satoru watches every change in your countenance, nothing escaping him. He takes it all inâyour breath evening out, your thighs relaxing around him, the slight, unconscious shift of your hips beneath his.
His blue irises darken, âBetter?â
âYesâŠâ
That single word nearly destroys him, causing his fingers to twist into the sheet and forehead to drop against yours. His breath breaks hot over your mouth as your nails drag down his back, making a sound somewhere between a gasp and a growl. His free hand flies to your waist, nails digging into your skin hard enough to remind you exactly what he is, but he catches himself quickly, loosening his grip, yet you tighten your legs around him before he can pull away.Â
His eyes snap open as you pull him closer to you, and whatever restraint he had left starts to die. He kisses you suddenly, without precision because he is still inexperienced as ever, though desperate all the same. His mouth hovers yours when he draws back for the first time, moving only a few cautious inches, before slowly pressing forward again.
The motion sends another flare of pressure through you, but it is different now. No longer is it that immediate pain from before.Â
He moves once more, slower this time, withdrawing with painstaking control before easing himself back inside you. The strange heat deep in your lower belly gathers, spreading through you with every inch until your fingers sink into his back. Satoru fixates on your face as he keeps repeating the motion, watching the tension between your brows gradually dissipate, and your lips part for an entirely separate reason.Â
âOhâŠâ You breathe quietly, this feelsâŠunexpectedly good.
He starts to move more purposefully then, deep, rolling thrusts that turn faster and rougher, though still measured for your sakeâalbeit barely.Â
The mattress creaks with each snap of his hips; the wet, filthy sound of his cock plunging into your slick filling the chamber. Your pain has nearly vanished now, transformed into a blinding pleasure that makes your vision white out and thoughts blur at the edges.Â
You start meeting his thrusts without meaning to, learning his rhythm and movements almost as quickly as he learns you, and the first time you do it deliberately, Satoru stops breathing.Â
His face lifts from yours, âYou did that.â
Despite everything, you stifle a laugh, âI did it purposely.â
â...Do it again.â
He gives the demand softly, and you comply, clenching around his cock as you grind up to meet him once more. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and the composure he wears like armor disappears totally; the sight sends a thrill through you.
This is the Honored One.Â
The Viltrumite who has stood untouched before collapsing planets. The weapon who has ripped through armies and returned home with boredom in his gaze. And youâare undoing him with your tight cunt he cannot seem to get enough of.Â
He fucks himself deeper, more urgently, though he continues watching you with almost obsessive attention. Each little moan you make seems to draw another from him. Every time your nails score his back, his grip tightens at your waist and his cock drives harder into you.Â
âYou feelâŠâ He starts, and stops, voice gone hoarse.
You peer up at him with half-lidded eyes, âWhat?â
He stares at you like he resents the fact that language has failed him, he has never been this vulnerable, â...so perfect.â
The praise makes heat bloom through you; your hands move over his back again, tugging him down until his chest presses fully against yours, and he shudders at the feel of your breasts touching his bare skin.Â
Then, something in him shifts. His breathing breaks apart, his rhythm loses its careful consistency, becoming uneven and instinctive as he enters you with long strokes. His eyes widen slightly with dawning realization.Â
He knows what his body is approachingâa climax.Â
Viltrum educated him well enough for that. This was the means to reproduce.Â
What no one had taught him was how overwhelming it would feel.
âSatoru?â
His fingers stab into your waist, âI know.â
But he sounds as though he does not know anything at all. Because he does not. He has never ejaculated beforeânever even felt something half as pleasurable as this.Â
His body tightens over yours with such sudden force that the bed groans beneath both of you, face dropping into the crook of your neck as he stuffs himself as deep as possible. You feel his cock throb and pulse within your walls, followed by the hot, thick rush of his cum flooding inside you in heavy spurts.Â
For several seconds, he cannot speak or move, seemingly he has forgotten how. You feel him trembling, the hand at your waist still clamped tight as he empties every last drop of his load into your womb, and when he finally lifts his head, his pale cheeks are flushed. His white hair hangs disheveled across his forehead, lips parted. His eyes, usually so clear and cutting, appear dazed.Â
He knows exactly what has happened. What he does not understand is why no one warned him it would feel like being split apart from the inside in the best possible way.
His gaze lingers on your face, âThat wasâŠâ
Trailing off, still searching for the correct word, you are breathing no more steadily than he is when you ask, âIt wasâŠ?â
Satoru swallows, âNo one said it would feel like that.â
Something about his honesty makes your chest swell, but before you can really acknowledge it, you notice his attention shifting. His eyes lower between your bodies, slowly pulling out just enough to watch his cock slip free, and a stream of his cum leaks from your swollen cunt, dripping onto the sheets in thick, white globs.Â
The bewilderment in his expression sharpens into one darker. Because there it is.Â
The abstract purpose of this arrangement suddenly made visible.Â
He had completed the act required of him. His body had done precisely what it was summoned here to do. Yet the satisfaction spreading through him is anything but dutiful.Â
His seed is inside you.Â
His.Â
There had been other males your father could have selected. Older veterans with centuries of conquest behind them. Proven fathers. Men who would have entered this chamber without hesitation, far too eager to bed you, and leave once the task was done.Â
ButâŠnone of them had been chosen.Â
Satoru had.Â
And you had ensured that choice would be permanent.Â
No other male would ever father your children. No other female would ever carry his. His bloodline would continue through your body alone, just as yours would continue only through him. The thought settles somewhere deeper than pride.Â
You had claimed him before he ever touched you, and now, staring at the evidence of himself inside you, Satoru realizes he would have demanded the same in return. He could not tolerate another male standing where he stood now nor could he bear the thought of someone else knowing you this way, or worseâgiving you a child.
No.
You are his.Â
But that realization comes with another, equally consuming truth.Â
He is yours too.Â
Thragg did not order that one. That was your own doing. You had looked upon Satoru and decided that you wanted him for yourself. He would not be used elsewhere other than with you.Â
A deeper hunger takes hold of him then, twisted with pride, possession, and something dangerously close to devotion.Â
He wants more of you.Â
Wants your body to remember him, to accept his seed again and again until conception feels less like a possibility and more like an inevitability. Wants to see you carry the living proof that, among every male left on Viltrum, he had been chosen.Â
And underneath all of that, sits one startling, intoxicating truthâhe belongs exactly where you put him. Â
His hand settles low over your belly, then slides even lower to gather whatever left of himself he can to push it back inside you with two fingers, as if to make sure it takes.Â
Your back arches slightly, whining, âSatoru.â
His eyes lift slowly to yours, âPerhapsâŠwe should make another attempt.â
You stare at him, searching for any concern that this first attempt may have failed, but do not find it. All you find is the want.
âTo ensure conception?â You ask curiously.Â
He hesitates for a mere breath, âYes.â
The lie is almost convincing, and your reply comes before any caution can reach it. You know you should not want more of him already, but you do. Desperately.
âThen letâs make another attempt.â
Satoruâs gaze darkens at the words. And this time, when he reaches for you, all the gentle restraint he had is gone. He flips you over onto your stomach with that effortless strength, pulls your hips up, and before sinking back inside your cum filled cunt to do it over again, his mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear to whisperâ
"For ViltrumâŠright?â
You arch up into him, âFor ViltrumâŠâ You repeat, however meaninglessly.Â
Because you are not sure whether any of this is for Viltrum anymore.
Summary: An attack during an attack leaves Leon injured and increasingly delirious. After extraction, heâs whisked away, and nobodyâs fucking telling you whatâs going on.
Finally, you get a phone call.
It changes everything.
WC: ~5k
CW: NSFW, like REALLY NSFW, you and Leon are partnered DSO agents, Leon is injured, fuck or die, sex pollen, sex venom, shaky safety practices, no use of y/n, no mention of ages, first time (together), friends to lovers, technically coworkers to lovers, handjob, unprotected p in v, creampies, multiple orgasms (Leon), he's a hopeless romantic at heart, happy ending
Notes: MINORS DNI
âYou say you saw the suits.â
âYeah, in passing.â
âYou didnât think they were important?â
âItâs a fucking lab. Labs are rife with hazmat suits. Weâve never had to equip them before.â
âThere were warnings posted all over the exit.â
âThere were zombies all up on our ass.â
The splattering offspray from Leonâs last-minute shot paints your back like a gory Jackson Pollock. The infected hits the floor, tripping two more.
It would be more helpful if there werenât about a thousand of them closing in.
Youâre running side by side with Leon, shoes eating up the sterile white floors, trying to divine an exit through the branching arteries of the lab. He has to veto a turn into a side hall when more shambling figures lunge forward; he grabs your arm to tug you away with him, but itâs an unnecessary precaution. Youâve already matched his footwork.
He glances behind as you run.
âWhere the fuck are they coming from?â
Youâd like to fucking know.
âAnd why are they all runners?â
Youâve dealt with your fair share of speed-boosted infected; limbs windmilling, clawing and careening, all bursting energy and no finesse.
These arenât blisterheads. They have stamina. Theyâre keeping up.
You twist and shoot one whose fingers are uncomfortably close to swiping the back of Leonâs shirt. The nearby white paneled wall goes bright, splotchy red.
âIntelâs getting a new one ripped if we make it out of this,â you pant, breath dry and ragged in your throat. Your lungs are burning.
âWeâre making it out,â Leon tells you. Conclusive, no room for argument. He dodges left, hand once again grazing your arm to pull you with, but youâre already there, a perfect shadow.
This hall is wider, brightly lit with glass cases set in between the wall panels.
Youâve only got eyes on one thing as you run.
EXIT
Itâs a final sprint.
You grit your teeth, breath loud in your ears, arms and legs pumping hard, trying to build a gap that allows for a sudden smack into the double doors, a loss of momentum and reversal of motion to slam the barrier closed.
âSlamâ turns out to be optimistic. Itâs a hydraulic close. Glacially fucking slow.
âFuck! Force it!â
You almost bash heads with Leon, throwing your combined weight against the doors as the calamitous wall of infected catch up, arms reaching through the diminishing gap, scratching and clawing at you.
With a roar of effort, the doors finally give way under pressure and close with a crunch. An arm, hand, and various fingers fall onto the concrete.
âBar it! Bar it!â Leonâs braced against both doors, his body a wedge, jarred by the furious thumping from the other side.
There are massive pneumatic rod locks on either side of the door. The control panel is dark.
âThereâs no power!â
âYouâre armed!â
Oh, right.
BANG T-SHUNK
Smoke curls from the barrel of your gun. The blasted hole in the control panel sparks weakly, fizzes, then goes dark.
Leon pushes away from the secured doors, rubbing at his ear. Your headâs ringing like a struck bell and youâd been back at armâs length, not parallel with the barrel.
âSay something?â
âSomething.â
âYeah, canât hear shit.â
"You only look like it.â
âHow many fingers am I holding up?â
Heâs flipping you off.
You grab it like a pinky promise, linking middle fingers, and he rolls his eyes.
âAlright. Letâs bounce,â you say.
He pulls you back. Urgent, abrupt. It bumps you against him.
âWait.â
Youâre in a greenhouse.
Rows and rows of lush, overgrown plants stretch unfamiliar leaves towards a glass-paneled sky. The walkways between rows are made of industrial metal grating, a stale funk rising from the darkness underneath.
No breeze is stirring the air. The back of your neck starts prickling; your animal brain tugging on your metaphorical hem and pointing.
The plants are rustling lightly.
Leon half-turns his head towards you, keeping his eyes on the jungle ahead.
âWhatâs the sitrep on the door?â
Itâs still thumping against the locks, battered by the relentless undead. You glance at the panel youâd shot, burst and gutted, the wall above it blackened.
âFucked.â
âOther doors?â
Itâs just wall. Wall, and wall, and wall, smooth and inhospitable.
âNegative.â
âHow long can you hold your breath?â
âI donât think thatâs the concern.â
Youâre playing back the last hallway. White walls broken by glass panels, streaking by as you run. Behind every glass panel, a bright orange suit, thick like leather.
Bite-proof.
âFuck.â
âSo you tried to bypass it underground.â
âSo we tried to bypass it underground,â you confirm. You watch the man nod, taking notes. Heâs a leftie.
âGood thinking.â
âYeah, well. Apparently not.â
The metal grating isnât light. Thankfully, you and Leon arenât weak.
The daylight sits like oil on top of water, only greasing weakly off of the reflective metal of more walkways below; descending levels disappearing into the dark.
âOh, good. Canât see the bottom.â
âEndless possibilities,â Leon says. âCover me.â
The first level is an eight foot drop. Leon swings his legs into the gap, scoots forward, and eases himself down slowly, like heâs waiting for something to file a violent complaint. When nothing does, he drops onto the walkway, the metal clanging despite his rubber soles.
He shines his flashlight forward.
âUgh.â
âWhat?â
âLove what theyâve done with the space.â He pockets the flashlight, reaching up to you. âItâs a charm you have to see in person.â
His hands are firm on your sides, your shirt riding up a little as he supports you down onto the platform with him. He absently fixes your rucked hem as you shine your flashlight into the gloom.
âUgh,â you agree.
Roots.
Long, white, spidery roots hang from the ceiling in lengthy clumps and bundles, like massive, cobwebby chandeliers.
Leonâs eyes narrow, scrutinizing.
âHey. Look.â
He steps forward, reaching into the nearest nest of gauzy filaments. He pulls his hand out, fingers curled around a narrow, dark plastic tube.
You come closer with the flashlight.
The dark color is red.
âItâs warm,â Leon adds, horribly.
The tube snakes off into the darkness below. You point your flashlight down and catch a glint off of something flat, circular, and shiny.
Leonâs separating more tubes from the leggy mass of roots. Only the one is red, but the others donât look any less⊠organic.
âGod. Which way do you think they run?â
He glances at you. âThree guesses.â
âPlants donât bleed red.â
âNot typically.â
You share a resigned look, then he brushes past you, face set.
You turn to find him making quick work of the stairs down to the lower levels, hand on his gun.
You check your pistol's chamber and follow.
âA line of tanks.â
âLife support tanks, yes. Dozens.â
âWhich way were the tubes running?â
âBoth ways.â
âSoâŠâ
âThe tanks were feeding the plants, and the plants were feeding the tanks.â
âLife support, you said. So there were ⊠humans? Inside the tanks?â
âYeah,â you say, looking away. âUsed to be.â
Thereâs a thick film of slime on the tank, like growing snot. Your flashlight canât make out anything coherent inside.
Leon shines his flashlight down the row; cylinder after cylinder, standing like a row of human-sized batteries, all mucky with slime and tickled by the trailing ends of roots from the massive bundles overhead.
Somewhere ahead, a steady dripping, echoing. You donât appreciate the cliche.
âWhen was the initial outbreak?â Now that youâre on solid ground, your voice seems to suck right into the floor.
âAll the lab logs and entries stop around six months ago.â
âSo no oneâs been down here for half a year.â
âYeah.â
Leon shares a long look with you, mouth tight. Then, hesitant, he wipes a window through the muck on the nearest tank.
The beam of his flashlight illuminates the chamber. You can see a vague shadow suspended inside, like a bug in rough, raw amber.
He steps back, jaw tight.
âDare I even ask?â
He shakes his head. âItâll put you off soup.â
You shine your flashlight upwards; the root balls catch it and glow, high overhead.
âWhat was so wrong with good olâ hydroponics?â
âLetâs just get out of here,â Leon says, heading off down the line of tanks.
âTwist my arm.â
âYou didn't see it?â
âIt was behind one of the tanks. In the dark.â
âYou didn't hear it?â
âIt was a little noisy at the time,â you say, annoyed.
Third tank from the last, everything goes spectacularly tits up.
Glass shatters outward, slimy and wet as it ricochets off your defensively raised arms. The body in the tank falls forward and swipes for Leonâs legs.
Itâs not like the infected youâre used to, desiccated and dry as jerky.
This one is wet. This one is dissolving, skin sloughing from muscle sloughing from bone. Entrails spill from its body cavity, slippery, spreading across the hoary concrete as the disgusting thing writhes for a claim on your partnerâs ankle.
Leon stumbles out of reach, gun aiming at the mucky skull. It explodes like a sixpack in a hot car and youâre shouting, ducking behind your arm againâ
Thatâs when the other thing strikes.
Leon shouts in pain and tries to tear free. The pale, rubbery thing keeps hold of his shoulder like an overexcited dog with a rope toy.
âLeon!â
Itâs too close to his head and heâs thrashing, you donât have a clear shot. Something glints in the shadows behind his hip.
The hatchet. Heâs already grabbed it.
A roar, a swing, the song of a sharp blade slicing clean through something organic.
The pale thing hits the ground with a sound like a rotting squash, the vine swinging empty into the darkness behind the tanks.
Leon falls to one knee with a grunt, the hatchet clattering onto the concrete.
âLeon! Leon,â youâre touching his back, crouching down with him. Heâs breathing hard through his nose, clutching his shoulder. The fabric is darkening under his hand.
âLet me see. Leon.â
You shove his hand clear, unzipping his collar and yanking it aside.
His skin is patterned with circular rows of bleeding dashes. Lots of them.
âWhat the fuck.â
The pale, rubbery thing lies flaccid on the floor behind Leon. At first glance, it looks like a starfish collapsed on itself.
At second glance, you start to see the teeth, fine and triangular, in diminishing rows like a shark.
Pink with blood.
âShit. Hey.â
Leonâs still on one knee, head down. You push his hair back, leaving a bloody streak on his skin, and tip his face up. Thereâs sweat on his forehead.
It takes him a moment to focus on you.
âTell me what youâre feeling.â
He grunts. His pupils are a little too big, even for the dim lighting, and theyâre not reacting right when you pass your flashlight closer.
Youâre trying not to panic.
âCan you get up? Can you walk?â
He lets you haul him to his feet but shoves you off when you go to duck under his arm. You donât take offense; itâs a good sign. Heâs steady enough on his own.
âGrab that,â he tells you, voice rough. Heâs holding his shoulder again, pointing down at the beheaded plant. You pick it up by the little stem of vine, grab his hatchet, and follow him close, ascending fast while he calls for extraction.
You donât wait for your debrief to finish writing.
âWhat did the labs say?â
âTheyâre still running tests.â
âWhat did Medical say?â
âTheyâre still running tests.â
âWhat, with a potato? Where's the sense of urgency, here?â
âAt last report, Mr. Kennedy was stable,â he says, capping his pen.
âHe was half delirious coming off that chopper!â
âTheyâve determined heâs in no immediate danger.â
âHow can they know if theyâre still running fucking tests?â
You get your name in an admonishing tone. You stand up, your chair screeching against the floor.
âI wanna see him.â
âHeâs in precautionary isolation.â
âI was exposed to the same bullshit he was. I wanna see him.â
âYou weren't bitten.â
âWhat, you think heâs gonna bite me?â
Your debrief just looks back at you, calm and level, his hands folded prim over the closed folder containing your account of the whole goddamn shit-spackled mission.
âHeâs in precautionary isolation,â he repeats.
Your teeth grind, a muscle in your jaw jumping.
âAre we done here?â
âYes. You are free to go.â
Medical stops you at the door. They arenât fooled by your purposeful stride, your bored but intent expression. They hook your arm and yank you away like itâs goddamn Looney Tunes.
âWe were told you might try that.â
Fucking debrief.
So now youâre sitting at home, dialing the Medical desk every fifteen minutes, certain from the complete non-activity of the past four hours that theyâve filtered your number as spam.
Assholes.
You should go to bed. Medicalâs kept you both alive thus far, through hell and high water. Leonâs in good hands. Stable. No immediate danger, they said.
You rotate your phone in your hand, over and over. Upside-down, rightside-up. Staring at nothing.
You call the labs.
Some poor idiot actually picks up.
âI-I-I canât give you that information,â he stammers, when you demand an update on Leon. On the biting plant. On fucking anything.
âIâm his partner! I was ground zero when it happened!â
âI-I canât verify that over the phone.â
âThen Iâm coming in,â you say, prim. You hang up on more panicked stammering, tossing your phone aside on the couch.
Youâve barely made it to your feet when your phone starts ringing.
Incoming Call
Leonnedy
You stub your toe on the couch in your scramble to pick up.
âLeon! Are you okay?â
Immediately you can tell heâs not.
âI need help,â he says. Croaks.
Cold sweat breaks on your skin.
âWhere are you? Whatâs wrong?â
âIâm⊠I canâtâŠâ He gasps.
Youâre a whirl of activity. Youâre grabbing your wallet, your keys, pulling a jacket on over your pajamas. Thereâs no fucking time to change.
âLeon, where are you.â
âHome.â
âWhat?â You stop cold in your mad dashing, gripping the phone too hard. âThey sent you home like this?â
âThey said I could take care of it.â
âTake care of what? They wonât tell me fucking anything, Leonââ
He groans through clenched teeth and oh boy, Medicalâs gonna find out just how creative you can be when it comes to revenge. You shove your feet ungracefully into some shoes and grab for the door handle.
âThe venom,â Leonâs panting in your ear, and then he gets to the zinger. âItâs an aphrodisiac.â
You feel it like lightning, a surge throughout your entire body. Your visual of his situation, based on the noises heâs making, takes a dramatic turn.
âLeon.â
âItâs been six goddamn hours,â he grits out.
âJesus christ, canât you justââ
âIâve tried,â he says. âIâm just goddamn edging myself.â
âDid you call Medical? Thereâs gotta be something they canââ
âFucking useless,â Leon says, confirming your hypothesis. âThey told me to hire an escort.â
âWhat?â
âIâm notâ fuckâ fucking doing that.â
You thump your forehead against your front door, your grip on the doorknob tight enough to crush.
âLeon, if you⊠thereâs no shame. Theyâre professioââ
âNo,â he cuts in. âI donâtâŠâ He breaks off, breath hissing through his teeth, and then fails to elaborate.
Thatâs alright; youâve got a pressing question.
âWhyâd you call me?â
For a moment, he doesnât answer. You just have to listen to him breathe like this.
Your vivid imagination is a fucking curse.
"I trust you,â he finally tells you. âI know how this⊠I donât have⊠I trust you.â
Youâre partners.
No, youâre coworkers. What heâs asking is⊠can he ask this? What happens to your partnership in the aftermath? Can you go back toâ
âPlease,â he breathes in your ear, and tops it with your name.
You wrench the door open.
Before you hang up, he gives you the code for the garage door, and fair warning.
Youâre still not prepared.
As partners, youâve seen each other in various states of undress. Usually partial. Usually because youâre bleeding somehow. Always clinical.
This doesnât feel like the far end of the same spectrum. This feels like a g-force journey into a different dimension.
Leonâs on his couch, head back, knees wide. Taut like a bowstring.
Completely, stark, buck-ass naked.
His shoulder looks like a bisected watermelon, his skin dewy and pink, dotted with the dark little toothmarks from the venomous plant.
His chest is heaving, his hips restless.
His cock is flushed dark, painfully engorged, thick and pulsing against his stomach. Thereâs a wet smear on his skin; when his cock lifts, straining, it trails a sticky little string of precum.
âChrist,â you rasp, tossing your jacket aside.
He lifts his head and his eyes can barely focus on you. He looks on the verge of passing out, but he reaches out, reaches for you. You shove a bottle of lube out of the way on the couch cushions and take his outstretched hand.
âIâm here. What do youââ
âTouch,â he pants, barely coherent. âTouch me.â
And here you are in the deep end, no time to brace, no time to breathe. Youâre touching him, chamois soft skin, hot and unyielding. His hips jerk on a gasp, a groan dragging from somewhere deep within as he lets his head fall back on the couch.
The hot, swooping sensation in your stomach physically bends you, punches your breath out.
Youâve never handled a dick this hard in your entire life.
Youâve maybe never handled a dick this big in your entire life. Heâs long and thick, the head flared, cerise and glistening. You pass your thumb over his slit, smearing through the precum, and his stomach tautens as he pushes up into your hand, his breath rushing out hot, hissing back in. Heâs desperate.
He breathes your name. His ass keeps flexing with the helpless motion of his hips and his eyes are closed, forehead knotted.
Itâs intense concentration. His world narrowed down, only as wide as the circle of your fist.
Six goddamn hours.
You tighten your grip, trail your other hand up the lightly furred inside of his thigh, teasing his balls before stacking your fists and starting to pump him in a steady rhythm that answers the flex of his body.
His hand lands on your thigh, searing, his fingertips firm on your flesh and pulling. Your knee presses tighter against his leg.
Heâs just grappling for a hold on something, for an anchor. His other hand is doing the same thing to the arm of the couch. You just hope he doesnât move his hand any further to the left on you or heâs gonna find you a little too slippery to hold onto.
Fuck, youâre only goddamn human.
You jerk him faster, his hips starting to meet you in earnest, his body rolling as he chases his disobliging release.
And why couldnât he get there himself?
What if⊠what if you canât get him there, either? You donât know anything about the venom, theyâre still running tests. Maybe this is the result. Maybe heâs just⊠stuck like this, heightening, exacerbating, until he, what, pops?
What a fucking epitaph that would be.
No, youâre not scripting headstones. Thatâs not happening.
You start to twist on the upstroke, a flick of the wrist, and Leon moans loud.
âThatâs it. Come on, Leon.â
His balls are tightening, drawing up, his forehead beaded with sweat, his mouth open. Heâs right on the edge.
âLook at me.â
He opens his eyes, glassy as they are. You make sure he can see you, and then you bend low.
His skin is velvety soft around the firm rounds of his balls. You fit your lips to one of the shapes, touch your tongue to it, tasting the salt of him.
He cries out, thick ropes of cum hitting his chest, his stomach, spurting and spilling down his shaft, smeared by your hand as you milk him through it, relieved.
You canât stop your breathy laugh, almost lost under his aereous groans. He just keeps going.
âA little pent up?â
He doesnât quip back. The situation is dire.
His dick gives one last pulse, the final beads of his release dribbling down the head of his cock. You rub it away with your thumb.
Thereâs a very noticeable issue.
Heâs still incredibly hard.
When you meet his eyes, theyâre a little clearer. Heâs still sunset pink and breathing hard â messy, now, too â but he can track your face better.
âDo you feel any different?â
âFuck. Barely.â
"What if you're stuck like this?"
âDon't say that," he says. Youâre still stroking him, slow, like an afterthought. He drags his hands through his damp hair, hissing when it stretches the scabs on his chewed shoulder.
"It was venom, do you need some sort of antivenom?"
He doesnât appear to be listening. His hands grip the back of the couch, his hips rolling, cock pushing through your sticky fist.
You grab his hips and force them down.
âLeon.â
He bucks hard against you, bratty.
"You think I know?â
âDonât give me an attitude.â
âDonât fuckin tease me,â he snaps, unwisely.
You move fast.
A whump, a gasp, the silence of breath caught in the shadow of a predator.
His breath fans out over your face; slow, tremulous.
âIâm doing you a favor,â you remind him, low, your face inches from his. âI could just leave.â
Heâs not moving, trapped under you.
Youâre straddling him, your fist tight at the base of his cock.
âWhat do you say?â
âFuck.â
âLeon.â
âI love you.â
It rattles you like a gunshot, strikes you and spreads.
It takes your advantage, crumples it up, and throws it in a trash compactor. And then it lights that trash compactor on fire.
âThatâs not fair,â you breathe.
âSorry,â he whispers, and kisses you.
Heâs upgraded your permissions. You kiss him back, heated, and let go of your leash.
He breaks from your mouth to gasp when you sit on his hips, his hands catching your waist and gripping.
âShit.â
âSo weâve learned that Iâm not a monk,â you say, a verbal roll of the eyes.
Itâs not just a few tepid inches of water in your basement. At this point, your floodâs halfway up the damn walls.
He rocks his hips, rubbing himself against the soaked fabric of your pajama shorts. You keen and pick up the motion on your own.
God, youâre aching.
âYou should have said something,â he says, breathless.
âThat wasnât on the invitation.â
âArenât you a saint.â
âYeah. Because when you said âI trust youâ, I heard âtake advantage of my compromising situationâ.â
âFair,â he says, then pulls you down to speak in your ear, his scruff a ticklish rasp against your skin. âFuck me.â
Well donât you make the perfect pair. Heâs hard as granite and youâre wet enough to sink a dinghy.
Taking off your clothes is too much fucking bother. You just shove the wet fabric to the side.
He doesn't watch where youâre taking his cock into your body, the hot, hard length of him sliding in tight past your pussy lips.
Heâs watching your face. You donât know it until youâve got him in to the hilt, your mouth falling open on a sigh, your forehead smoothing out as you gyrate your hips, a delicious little circle, fully seated on his lap.
"Oh my god, Leon."
He comes.
Your name is somewhere in the long groan sieved through his clenched teeth before his mouth drops open, diced breaths tumbling free as he pulses inside of you, so deep, so hot and thick.
Heâs still looking directly at you.
You watch his eyes clear just a little more; sharpening, focusing. Smoke becoming a mist.
âCan I tease you about premature ejaculation.â
âNo.â He starts unbuttoning your pajama top. The fabric is wrinkled at your sides where heâd been gripping, almost hard enough to bruise.
âWhy, because youâre still hard?â He is, but itâs different. You couldnât bend steel around him anymore.
âYeah,â he says simply, and grips your open collar, pulling you down into a kiss.
You arch your back, easing him to just the tip, bottoming him out again, cycling his affected breath through your own lungs. He runs his hands down your chest, grazing your nipples, his tongue reaching into your mouth to taste your sigh.
His hips press up into you, lifting you, a gentle swell. You ride it; start to rock your hips.
The fabric of your shirt whispers down your arms, chased by the skim of Leonâs palms. Goosebumps raise on your skin.
You brace your arms on the back of the couch, riding him faster. He trails his lips down the column of your neck, his scruff a pleasant scratch, his humid breaths printing your skin.
He runs the fan of his fingers over your nipples.
âLeon.â
âLean back,â he murmurs, his teeth grazing your shoulder. âLet me see you.â
You sit back on his hips, brushing your hands over the caps of his knees. He scratches lightly down the flex of your thighs as you start slapping down on him harder, dropping your head back, gasping.
âFuck, gorgeous, just like that.â
âGod, Leon.â
Your thighs are burning. He starts meeting you, hips snapping, and you look down.
It almost does you in.
Those broad shoulders, that flushed chest. Muscles rolling and bunching under his glistening skin. Hair sticking to his forehead, wet pink lips, blown eyes hooded, watching you, too.
His hands fall to your hips and he growls, fingers bunching in your pajama shorts. Feral. Like heâs going to tear them.
He hooks his arm around your back and surges up, laying you out on the sofa. You whine when he slips out of you, but heâs lifting your hips to yank your shorts and panties down, surprisingly coordinated for the way heâs wound up.
A small part of you expects them to hit the floor with a wet slap. The rest of you is reaching for Leon, impatient, empty.
He brings your knee up, hooks your leg around his hip and pushes back in, one long thrust, his breath a humid narration. You keen, head falling back against the cushions, feeling his lips at your jaw.
He digs his arms under your shoulders, his body rocking you, fluid motions pushing and pulling as he fucks you slow, deep. You grip his back, obsessed with the animal flex of his body.
You can feel every inch of him, stroking your walls. In, out, a steady tide. You arch your back, your stomach pressing to the rippling heat of his abs.
Heâs still sticky. You donât fucking care.
âScoreâs two to zero,â he tells you, breath hot against your cheek. âYou gonna catch up?â
âIâm not the medical concern.â
He brings your other leg up onto his hip, adjusting. Seeking.
He finds it. You groan loud, raw, and feel him smile against your neck.
âThere you are.â
Your jaw hinges open, your vision glazing over as he rubs the head of his cock against the bundle of nerves inside you. He snaps his hips, jolting a gasp out of you, then goes right back to massaging your g-spot.
âYouâre not real,â you pant. He nips your skin, sharp.
âRiver in Egypt, sweetheart.â
You dig your heels into his glutes, pressing in like spurs, urging him faster.
âCome on, cowboyâ ah!â
He pushes up onto his hands, skin slapping loud as he starts pounding into you hard and fast. You were already tightening, coil building, and heâs hit your fucking warp drive.
âFuck, fuck, like that, Leon!â
âShit, you better hurry,â he says through gritted teeth. His hips are stuttering, rhythm starting to fall apart.
âI told youââ
His thumb circles your clit, just one rotation, and thatâs it. The bastardâs got you. Screaming, even.
You come apart beneath him, your foundation shaking, walls clenching around him, wracked by seismic waves. He gasps your name, watching you climax on his dick, then slams in deep and comes with a long, stuttering groan.
The third time, it seems, is the charm.
When his phone starts ringing, you donât hear it at first. His head is blocking your nearest ear.
âLeon.â
âMm.â
âYour phone.â
âMmph.â
You shift like youâre going to try to reach for it yourself, but heâs beautifully heavy on top of you, so you donât try very hard.
You nuzzle your face into his hair and bring your arms around him instead, closing your eyes. He hums, content.
The ringtone stops, bending to your private moment.
Five seconds later, it starts up again.
âFuck.â
You grouse when Leon shifts up, but his reach is longer than yours and he doesnât go far.
âHuh. Medical,â he says.
âOh,â you say, with mock optimism.
He hits answer, settling back on top of you. You run your hand up and down his back, petting him.
âKennedy.â
He doesnât have his volume turned up very high. You get vague shapes of words, spoken quickly, and then Leonâs short responses, felt as much as heard, his voice thrumming through you.
âYeah. ⊠No. ⊠Donât need it. ⊠I know. ⊠I know. ⊠No, Iâm fine. ⊠Sure. Bye.â
âFucking useless,â he mutters, his phone clattering onto the coffee table. âAntivenomâs ready.â
You start giggling.
âThey want me in for reassessment in the morning.â
It turns into laughter, smothered into his shoulder, and he rolls into the couch crease so he can look at you.
âWhat?â
âAll their overtime hours,â you say. âNo match for your partnerâs Magical Healing Vagina.â
He laughs, a real one, his hand pulling at your hip to twist you towards him, pressing you against his body. Youâre both a fucking mess, and the couch might be a write-off.
It was an emergency.
âShould get you certified,â he says. You make a skeptical noise.
âThereâd be a demand.â
His arm tightens around you, minuscule. Almost imperceptible. Mightâve been completely imperceptible, if his arms werenât so big.
âMm. Weâre sticking to best-kept-secret.â
âHow selfish.â
He nuzzles your mouth with his, sharing breath.
âYeah.â
âHey,â you mention, to his invading tongue. He retreats and lets you speak. "Did you mean what you said, or was it just self-defense?"
"What I said?"
"Don't be obtuse.â
He brushes his lips against yours, just a snag of soft, moist skin.
"I've never lied to you," he says.
"There's a first time for everything," you say. "You're skirting the question."
He brushes your hair back, studying your face. Content to take forever, it seems.
"If it helps," you say, "I can put you back under duress."
You slide your hand to the front of his hip, laughing when he flinches away.
"Ass," he says, and rolls you onto your back again, dipping to kiss you.
"Yeah. I love you," he says, and maybe it's a little gruff. "And isn't that just a shitload of complications."
"A metric fuckton," you agree, stroking his cheek. His stubble rasps against your fingertips.
His eyes are completely clear, gaze steady looking back at you.
âBut maybe it helps that I love you, too,â you murmur.
It's not a kiss this gets you. He's been dishing out all manner of kisses tonight, their significance has shifted. No.
Instead, he nuzzles his face against your neck, wraps his arms around you, and holds you. Holds you like he intends to for a very long time, like you're the only thing that matters, like your beating hearts need to carry out a close and personal conversation.
Good. They can work out the details. You're just gonna lay here and pet the hair of the man you trust most â the man you can finally admit that you love â glowingly content in his arms.
On AO3
Y'all mind if I just give our man a bad good time real quick
DEXâS DAMN TWO FINGERSâŠ. i just know heâd finger you so, so well ! heâd start slow, shoving his index and middle finger in your hole not before wetting them in his mouth, eyes stuck on you. ever so softly, heâd begin to to shove into your entrance as your lips widen the further he goes. heâs delicate and light, sure to not make you feel uncomfortable, cooing at you while his free hand strokes your head.âthatâs it baby girl, loosen up for me.â once youâve clenched around his fingers a couple of times, your walls welcome him in as he begins twisting around. he doesnât rush, letting you gulp his digits in till youâre full. dex watches closely, increasing speed and continuing to leave and enter your throbbing pussy. as your feet begin to move up and down, legs scrambling and toes fidgeting â dex grabs onto a thigh, holding you still. reflexively, your pelvis shifts; rocking back and forth, side to side as he carries on fingering you till youâre a quivering and shaking mess.
inexperienced!dex uses the internet to learn for his first time with you. a comment under a post has him questioning whether the pleasure noises you make for him are real or fake.
warnings?: fbi dex, p in v, inexperienced dex, idk.
he reread your last text again..and then again.
[ canât wait for tonight ;) ]
dex didnât have the strength to put the phone down, the firm grip on his iphone matched the grip his other hand had on his mouth as he slowly panted into his palm.
it wasnât even time for the date, it was still noon- the date was at 8, yet he couldnât get the image of you out of his mind.
finally! after months of being in your vicinity without you knowing, weeks of casual conversation and a handful of dates, days of heavy makeouts against your apartment door or behind the restaurant he took you to.
tonight was the night.
the last step before you were officially his because no one can treat you as better as dex can. you and dex would have sex, fuck, make love, whatever you want to call it.
he was excited. but more nervous unfortunately, dex was not as experienced as a normal thirty year old man should be. and he was very well aware of that.
you on the other, you were very sensual, specific with your words and actions. he remembers the conversation so well.
dex softly kissed you after your third date, it was awkward at first, but slowly the two of you figured out a pace that made you ache between your legs and wellâŠdex was hard as soon as your fingers grazed his waist.
he didnât mean to, but dex accidentally slipped his tongue into your mouth. the loss of his lips from you made you sigh as dex backed away a few steps.
âsorry- iâm sorry.â dex panted while wiping his mouth. fuck fuck fuck he crossed a boundary, he want to far, it was only your first kiss.
the look in your eyes still positively haunts dexâs dreams as your eyes stuck to his lips hungrily.
took you a few seconds to finally look at his eyes instead of his red, wet, soft lips.
âyou don't have to be that cautious. iâm not exactly a beginner, and Iâm definitely not as âsweetâ as you seem to think I am.â you softly murmured while wrapping your arms around his neck.
he felt your tits press up against his chest and he doesnât remember anything else after that.
you were experienced, yea you were a few years younger than him. but you made it clear that you werenât a virgin or someone who likes it soft and sweet alllll the time.
dex scrambled to his table in his living room, he remembered the phase at his workplace when the guys would email each other p*rn link.
he rarely ever clicked on them, he was too busy being on the verge of a breakdown or watching you on his time off.
dex opened up his email and scrolled till he found the first email with a link.
it was for educational purposes.
he likes you and he wants to make you feel good.
heâs a grown man. its about time.
nothing couldâve prepared him for the wormhole of material he went through.
links on links of different things, he stumbled upon photos, videos, gifs, forums, tips and tricks.
different sex positions, different body builds of men and women. some were too graphic and long while other were short and soft.
one specific link took him to a twitter post, the girl in the video resembled a bit like you. for some reason he hated that. dex aimlessly scrolled under the comments as the girl in the video kept crying out his name.
immediately dex perked up on his table as he read a comment.
[ hate when the girl makes so much noise. it is so fake. ]
what? women can fake noises and reactions?? this was new knowledge to dex. his past experiences were too loud or too quiet, honestly it was so long ago he doesnât even remember.
that comment carried him all evening as he got ready for the date. it followed when he was ironing his polo, it followed him when he drove to the restaurant, and when he saw you unzip your dress from across his bedroom.
after minutes of making out messily while slowly undressing, kisses up and down your throat and chest. dex had you a sweaty and needy mess beneath him.
you made it clear to dex that you didnât want any foreplay tonight, you just needed his dick because you were already wet as fuck just by kissing him.
his dick that you have been feening over for weeks. his dick that you once saw hard beneath his jeans when you guys first shared a kiss. god you need it.
so as dex is quite literally enamored and inlove with you, he pulls down your soft underwear and slips out his hard, needy, leaky cock from his boxers and inch by inch pushes into your hole.
he is maybe half way in you and you feel the burn and you fucking love it. unable to keep your mouth shut as dex bottoms out, you let out a soft moan at the ache between your legs that quickly turns into one of pleasure.
you feel dexâs hands which brace your head shake as he tries not to literally come at the spot.
âdex- oh dex, i knew you were big babyâ you sigh between harsh breaths.
dex is literally unable to anything except nod, its like his mouth has been staples.
you continue to sigh out harsh breaths but they turn into quiet moans as dex grinds into you. you were reeling. the friction, the way he filled you, the way his hands found the exact rhythm you craved. it was intoxicating.
you weren't thinking about anything other than the sensation, your head thrown back against the pillows. you gasped his name, sharp and breathless, the sounds spilling out of you without a filter. every time he pounded into you, your hips arched to meet him, your voice rising, praising him, telling him exactly how good he was making you feel.
beneath the pleasure, however, dex was tense. he kept his eyes locked on your face, searching for a trace of dishonesty. he moved with a frantic, focused energy, rubbing against your core, trying to drown out the doubt screaming in his head. are you just saying that? or are you faking it for him?
when the peak finally broke over you, you clung to his shoulders, leaving little marks in his skin as you whispered how much you needed him.
guess he really did learn something from those videos.
as he slowly pulled out of you and kissed your cheek a little and you finally let go of his back. he watched your bare chest go up and down as you tried stabilize your breathing, eyes shut and mouth ajar.
dex watched you with pure vulnerability, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. the sex was perfect, you both came but the noisesâŠ
the moans, whines, pants of his name in your ear. it couldnât have been fake right?
but that girl, she sounded like you did two minutes ago. he couldnât even stop the words that slipped out of his mouth.
âwas that real?â
you rolled over to your side and nuzzled into the pillow eyes still shut. you were stuck in a state of euphoria and did not want to leave it.
âwhat?â you softly spoke as your hand reached to graze at dexâs arm.
âyou were quiteâŠ.lou- vocal.â dex stuttered. to that your eyes opened. âi want to know if that was real, you donât have to fake anything with me.â he continued earnestly.
if he was bad he wanted to know, he would learn for you.
you probably thought you were hearing wrong because you were definitely not faking⊠like he was fucking you so good you donât even remember what you said.
you sat up straight while inching closer to dex. his pupils were dilated and you could see the marks on his shoulders that your nails caused.
âdex,â you said softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from his forehead. âi wasnât thinking about anything but you. i didnât even realize how loud i was being.â you giggled at the last part because it was the truth.
the tension that had been holding his shoulders rigid for the entire night finally started to snap. he exhaled, a shaky, uneven sound, and a slow, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
âokay, okay thats goodâ he nodded. âim sorry if that ruined the mood.â he continued.
you immediately shook your head, âno dex absolutely not, i knew you were gonna be sooooo goodâ you whispered as you climbed into lap.
âand ill tell you that every timeâ you said between pecks on his lips.
you felt dex lazily smirk against your lips while his hands gripped at your hips.
believe it or not, you grew louder and louder that night every time he made you come. and every sound was real.
Ok so hear me out... Brat reader and Dom schlatt cuddling and it leads up to sex and reader is like getting called names and getting like sarcastically comforted or how ever you would word it like for example "oh poor baby" or something
Btw I love your fanfics highkirky
i love that you love the fics, thank you thank thank you thank you
(apologies if this is messy, i'm drunk rn)
--
but like yess oh my god like schlatt would so be the type to tease you non stop and then act SUPRISED when he feels how worked up you are. especially after you've been pissing him off on purpose all day.
you kept giving him attitude while you were out, being especially sarcastic when he asked you a question.
"keep this shit up and you'll pay for it," he threatens.
you rolls your eyes at him and see the way he clenches his jaw.
pay for it you did.
laying in bed with your back to his chest while he sucks marks into your neck and fondles your breasts.
"m' gonna show you to behave, alright? watch how you fuckin' talk to me," he grunts in your ear.
your back arches, pushing your ass against his hard-on.
his hand slinks down and dips beneath your waistband
"fuck, all this for me? poor baby..." he whispers.
his index finger drags down your heat before he slips his finger at an agonizingly slowly pace, heel of his palm pressed tightly against your clit.
"not enough..mmph...more" you whimper.
"greedy bitch, nothing's ever enough for you," he curses.
you're on your back before you can blink, your thighs wrapped around his waist as his sinks his heavy cock into you.
his hand curved across the top of your head, softly rubbing your hair while you whine at how he feels stretching you out.
"shh, i know baby, i know..." he says.
he sounds so fucking sympathetic while pounding into you at brutal pace. each thrust of his hips cracks against you.
soon, he slams a hand over your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries of pleasure.
"shut up...this is what you wanted, just enjoy it," he grunts.
tw: gn reader, noncon, (mention of reader having children), minor injury, drugging, victim blaming, video tapping, creampie.
your heady scent wafts through the air.
itâs taking everything in him not to take what he wants, right here, right now. his fist clenches underneath the table. he offers you a smile, one that doesnât quite reach his eyes, noticing your attention drawn to him as the conversation lulls.
youâre collarless, scent gland on display.
itâs a bit engorged. the skin raised from your impending heat. heâs never known omegas to flaunt themselves like that. not unless they wanted something to happen to them. thatâs what this is, right? some little signal to him? youâve always been so elusive. itâs hard to tell when it comes to you.
itâs starting to drive him insane, but it doesnât matter. youâll be his all the same.
he sits a bit closer to you, throwing his arm around the couch as he listens to you prattle on about some show he canât be bothered to care about, not right now. not with your scent coiling in the air like that.
you smell so sweet, even to someone like him with dulled senses. itâs so much better close to the source.
when you lean into him, head knocking into his shoulder, his mouth waters. his teeth start to ache. all it would take is one bite. heâd pull you into a hug, grip your hair tight, splay the delicate line of your neck to him.
no, no, no.
not one bite. it wouldnât last, not from someone like him. heâll have to keep doing it, over and over and over again. make the mark stick, leave his indentation in your neck. until you never have to wear that stupid collar ever again.
youâll bear his mark on your skin insteadâthe perfect necklace.
for now, heâs keep listening, keeps letting you press yourself against him, none the wiser that he has something special planned for you.
âiâll get us something to drink,â he states abruptly, squeezing your shoulder as he departs.
he doesnât wait for you to answer, just getting up and heading into the kitchen. heâs been here long enough that everythingâs become second nature to him. he knows where the utensils are, where you keep your favorite snacks, the food you eat, nearly everything about you at this point.
that means youâre perfect for each other.
he opens the fridge, grabs the pitcher, and sets it on the counter. his hand lingers on his front pocket, on the little packet of heat inducer. it was surprisingly easy to obtain; who wouldâve thought? you know a guy who knows a guy, and things just magically fall into your lap.
he tested it on himself first, of course. luckily, it didnât do much but give him an erection that seemed to last for fucking days. heâs not leaving this shit to chance. he waited too long for you to mess this up.
he grabs two cups from the dish rack, not wanting to dawdle too long. thatâll seem suspicious, and heâs not that type of guy. he pours it into your cup, watching the white powder be absorbed by the juice.
itâs supposed to be flavorless.
hopefully, youâre not one of those people who notice everything. as much as he doesnât want to hurt you. heâs not afraid of getting rough, but itâll still be really unfortunate to break that illusion.
all of the work that went into carefully crafting his personality to your liking.
all down the drain.
he returns to your side, a smile on his face as he hands you the glass. âfor you,â he adds, gaze lingering on your face. his fingernail scrapes down the glass as he counts down the seconds, that drag into minutes, waiting for the drug to kick in.
any day now.
and there.
he feels the exact moment you slump into him, nearly slipping your drink onto the floor. he takes it out of your hand, breath hitching from the contact. even now, just the touch of your skin against his is enough to set him off.
he sets the drink down.
that sweet smell deepens, practically pressing against his nose. his tongue swipes across blunt teeth. he wraps his arms around you, nosing against your neck as he lets out a pleased sigh.
âw-what? what did you give me?â you slur, trying and failing to push him away.
you can barely feel your fingertips. itâs like youâre watching everything happen from outside of your body. your mindâs growing all hazy with want. it feels like youâre going into heat, but that shouldnât be possible.
you take your pills on time. you shouldnât be due for another week at most.
it couldnât possibly be him.
heâs supposed to your friend.
he licks a stripe up your neck, allowing you to slide down the couch. youâre rag-dolling at this point. he has to position your legs to keep you from falling off. heâd prefer to do this in your bed. just so you can remember this exact moment, every single time you fall asleep.
but heâll accept this for now. the drug isnât going to wear off that fast, especially not for its intended target. he paid far too much for this shit to be a dud.
you feel the exact moment his teeth sink into your scent gland. the smell of iron burns your nose. he bit down hard enough to draw blood. you want to cry, but the tears just wonât come. the only reaction you can muster is the slight hitch in your breathing.
he pulls back, just enough to look at your face. he wants to write this moment in his mind forever. youâre just so beautiful, even limp and useless. you canât give him a proper reaction right now, but thatâs alright.
you have all the time in the world. you didnât really think heâd be alright with just having you once, did you?
his grin widens, showing off blood-stained teeth. his hand comes down to caress your cheek, trailing down to your gland. the skin is angry and bruised, teeth marks imprinted on your delicate throat. he presses his thumb into it, watching the beginning of tears well up in your eyes.
finally, a reaction.
âoh, did that hurt, darling?â he questions, tone mocking. he brings his thumb back up to his mouth, licking the blood, your blood, off his finger, reveling in the sight of your teary face.
fuck, thatâs so hot.
he chuckles, reaching into his back pocket. he takes out his phone, the first photo heâs ever taken of you staring back at him as he unlocks it. he opens the camera app, the click of the shutter breaking through the noise as his library fills with more pictures of you.
âi think iâll keep this one, and that one, and the other one,â he teases, eyes crinkling at the corners. âmight even make it my lock screen. youâre⊠god, youâre just so beautiful, you know. you just⊠make it so hard to keep my hands to myself. honestly, iâm surprised i lasted this long.â
he sets the phone to the side for now, returning his attention to you.
âiâm gonna take reeeal good care of you, sweetheart,â he murmurs, nimble fingers sliding your pants down your legs. his gaze lingers on the sight of your slick, soaked thighs. youâve managed to make a mess of your underwear, and he hasnât even properly touched you yet.
still, heâs a gentleman.
heâs not going to skip out on foreplay and pass up the chance of tasting you. he takes off your underwear as well, stuffing them into his pocket for safekeeping. he kneels between your legs, face hovering inches from your glistening sex.
ah, youâre so wet and all for him.
the scent of you is even better here, all musky and sweet. the flavor of your essence erupts on his taste buds as he licks a stripe up your sex, letting out an airy moan. his nails dig into your thighs as he drags you closer, arranging your legs to dangle over his shoulders.
he laps at the slick dripping from your entrance, fingers stroking the length of your arousal. itâs pulsing beneath his fingertips, throbbing like it has a heartbeat of its own. youâre just as wet as heâd imagines youâd be.
the real thing is way better than the omega porn he watched. only, after he found out your designation. thereâs never been a point in watching it anymore. not when he has actual material right in front of him.
he takes you into his mouth, suckling on your swollen heat. his gaze is drawn to the shaky rise and fall of your chest as he keeps sucking. yeah, youâre starting to feel it now. he squeezes your chest, rolling your pebbled nipple through your shirt.
youâre just so responsive. when he licks, your thighs start to twitch. when he sucks harshly, you let out an exhale that sounds more like a sob than anything. a sob of pleasure? yeah, thatâs what it is. you want this just as much as he does. you always have. you just needed a little more⊠coercion.
someone like youâan omega.
you just donât know what you actually want. thatâs why you need someone like him to take control. someone whoâll fill your mind with blissful pleasure. thatâs how itâs supposed to be. people like you donât have ambitions. you donât need to go to school or keep that shitty little job that doesnât pay you enough.
youâre supposed to have his children, stay home and take care of them. in fact, you shouldnât ever leave. itâs not safe. what if someone has the same idea as him? of course, they would. youâre just too enticing.
thatâs why he canât help acting this way.
itâs all your fault.
you caused all of this to happen. why else would you have invited him into your home? no, your home together, so close to your heat. allowing that sweet scent of yours to coil around him like a loverâs embrace.
youâre so coy.
acting like you donât want this, when youâve been throwing yourself at him this entire time.
his finger breaches your hole, two at a time. youâre so wet that his fingers slide right inside. he listens to the messy squelch of your hole, teeth biting into his lip at the lewd sight. with every push of his fingers, more of your slick drips out. if he keeps this up, youâll stain the couch.
so naughty.
oh, itâll be so sweet. just think about it. every time you sit down on this couch, youâll remember just how we took care of you, ate you out, fingered you open, prepped you to receive his love.
now, that he thinks about it. what better way to remember this special moment than with a video? a photo. those are alright, but a video. heâll have all of your cute little reactions saved in the memory of his phone. itâll be something sweet to look back on with you. wouldnât that be so nice?
right, sweetheart?
he pulls away for a moment, fingers glistening with your juices as he reaches for his phone. he props it up on the discarded glass, making sure the angle is right before he presses record. he takes a moment to think to himself.
heâs actually doing this. youâre finally going to become one.
the sound of him pulling down his zipper rips through the delicate moment of appreciation. he can feel the weight of your teary gaze on him and see the subtle motions of your lips mouthing out words. he doesnât wait for an answer, merely pulling his pants and underwear down far enough to slip his dick out.
he lets out a sigh of relief. god, it feels like heâs been sporting a half chub since the moment he got here.
he climbs on top of you, bracketing you in as he strokes himself. âare you ready, love?â he murmurs, gaze filled with possessiveness and, most of all, pure love. his hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with your limp ones as he presses inside.
he lets out a satisfied sigh, feeling you tighten around the intrusion. he noses at your neck, sucking on your scent gland as he rocks against you. that sickeningly sweet scent wafts into his nose once more. itâs euphoric, better than any drug.
itâs almost enough to make him come from the thought alone, but he wonât.
no, not yet.
he has to make sure you enjoy yourself first. he might not be able to satisfy you with a knot like an alpha would, but a few orgasms should do the trick. thatâs what it said online, at least. when he was doing⊠research.
his hand wanders back down, rubbing between the junction of your thighs. your eyes are still glazed over, face lax with a line of drool decorating your chin. mmm, youâre so sloppy. thatâs what he loves about people like you. the kind who lose control during sex, making a mess all over themselves.
he starts to thrust faster, feeling himself start to leak inside you. âa-ah, yeah. you feel that, sweetie,â he murmurs against your skin. itâs like youâre trying to push him out every time he thrusts back inside you. ây-you keep making me feel that good, and i⊠i might just put a baby inside you. you want that too, right? a bunch of brats together? just me and you⊠and our kids running around the place.â
youâre not responding to his tentative touch anymore, but⊠thatâs alright. he knows just how overwhelming things like this can be, having your first time with your soulmate.
he canât even believe itâs happening himself.
he surges forward, lips pressing against yours for the first time. his tongue parts your lips, slipping inside your mouth as he loses himself in the taste of you. the gentle smacks of his lips pressing against yours fill the room, a backdrop to the sound of the television thatâs grown long forgotten, the very moment he handed you that drink.
he continues rutting against you, keeps rubbing his fingers along the throbbing heat between your thighs as he presses your prone form further into the couch cushions.
heâs going to make you come.
he can feel it.
your body doesnât lie, even with those deceptive tears that are spilling from your eyes. god, he wished you'd stop with the fucking theatrics. having a cock inside you canât be that damn bad.
youâre in heat. you want this.
if he didnât come over here. youâd probably be on your hands and knees for the first dick that appeared, begging to be knotted. if anything, heâs doing you a favor.
so, you should be grateful. grateful that he even prepped you at all. maybe you wouldâve preferred he just shove his dick inside you dry. no slick to help with the intrusion.
just him.
he grits his teeth, willing away those thoughts. he just needs to focus on the feeling of your hole fluttering around him. donât think about other people with you. heâs here with you right now. itâs his dick thatâs making you feel this good.
no one elseâs.
that euphoric feel that heâs been chasing catches up to him as he lets out a choked-off moan. his fingers tighten around yours, hips slowing to a still as he paints your insides white with his release.
he really did it.
he came inside you. you have his teeth marks on your neck.
something that only happened in his wet dreams that would keep him up at night.
he pulls out of you, taking the moment to admire the sight of his seed dripping out of you. now, this is something he can get used to. your beautiful face, and the sight of your freshly bred hole. he scoops back up his cum, fingering it back inside your entrance.
you didnât think really think he about your little problem, did you? he might be coming down from his high, but he still has to breed out your heat. show you that heâs way better than any of those useless alphas.
and heâs going to make sure you come again, and again, and again.