summary: skippy wants to prove that he is your boy and yours only. so he decides that he will give you the greatest sex that you will ever know.
requested by: anonymous / me
word count: 1,863
warnings: smut, passionate love making, fingering, cum facial, dirty talk, choking, slight praising, ass spanking, oral sex (r!receiving), nipple play.
"The president is going to issue an EO... whatever that is." he says in an excitable tone as he takes off his blazer that compliments his figure so well. You sit down on the small but comfy chair opposite him as you watch him in his flustered, frustrated state as you wipe your face slightly. "Executive Order," you say to him as you watch how he throws his blazer to the full sized couch. You put your cigarette down and gently tap your thigh. "Come here," you say in your low ruffly tone, Tim obeys you as usual and sits down on your lap, but doesn't stop his informative rant. "...and they're worried that Eisenhowar is trying to undermind that project." Tim says in a full breath, stopping for a moment to catch it.
Tim leans closer against your body, wrapping one arm around your neck. Your hand immediately darts up and begins undoing his top button, "by taking the lead on an anti communist crusade?" Your voice raises slightly as you ask him this pressing question about his rant, "I think so." Tim mutters out as he turns to face you, completely letting you manhandle him like a doll on his lap. "Senator McCarthy wants to ignore it, but Roy thinks that they -" before he can finish you butt in after the mention of Roy. "Roy?!" You say, trying to hide your jealous tone as your hand slips into his unbuttoned shirt and caressing his body softly. "You on a first name basis?" You say in a soft but domineering tone.
You gently pinch his nipple causing his to sharply groan and smirk slightly as he playfully pushes your shoulder, "Mr Comb thinks it's the smarter move to expose those who are behind the order" he says in a more professional tone. "Which will force Heisenhowar to do the right thing!" Tim says as his professionalism slips away, "Any idea on what the Executive Order is about?" You say wanting to get more information out of him because you're a very noisy man. "No... I'm sorry," Tim says softly to you as you continue caressing his chest. "What are you going to do with this information? ... share it with Senator Smith?" He asks you with a curious look, coating his face.
"Only if I have to." You reply truthfully to him as your eyes travel up from his exposed chest to meet his soft eyes. "I try to protect the Senator from his own worse impulses," you say to him with an honest look on your face as your eyes meet with his as you face each other. You lean up and grip the back of Tim's head, getting closer to him and placing a big kiss against his forehead and pulling away, watching his slightly flustered face. You help him adjust his black framed glasses. "I have to get dressed," you say to him as you begin to shuffle up until Tim gently places his hand on your stomach, pushing you down showing that he doesn't want you to move.
Tim's hand presses against you with more support, pushing you down a bit more while staring at you, "I wanna go to the party" he confesses to you in a tone that says he will be going. "The Cromwells? ... don't get me wrong, he'd cling onto you like a jellyfish-" before you can even finish what you were going to say Tim cuts you off like you did to him not long before "then take me" he says while his tone has some underlying annoyance. I take a deep breath that turns into a sigh, "You're not even dressed for it and you don't have a date." You say honestly to him trying not to crush his wishes to hard, "I'll be with you!" Tim says his tone becoming more excited as his fingers gently play with your earlobe.
Your hand gently caresses his face, and your eyes change slightly into more caring, "this is the real world..skippy," you say to him, bursting his bubble. Skippy leans closer to you, closing the inches between your face, his breath hitting your face as he begins speaking, "I'm your boy.. right?" He asks you in a soft manner. Skippy begins to manoeuvre off your lap, hovering above you slightly as he slowly travels down your body onto his knees on the floor "well well well." You say in a seductive whisper as you watch him get down on his knees. "..and your boy wants to go to the party," Skippy adds in as his eyes never leave yours. "How much does he want to go?" You ask him as both your eyes stare into eachothers hungry orbs.
Skippy leans down, his face in between your legs as he pulls your cock out of the slit at the front of your pants, his eyes widen in shock. Skippy's seen your cock a handful of times before it's even been buried in his ass countless times but it always takes his breath away the moment he sees it for the first time after a while. He nibbles at his lip softly as his eyes dart up from your cock to meet with your perfect eyes looking down at him, he doesn't break the sexual eye fucking as he leans forward and takes your tip in his mouth, Skippy swirls his tongue around your pre-cum coated tip.
"That's a good boy." You groan out in a breathy moan as your hands grip the scruff of hair at the back of his head forcing the rest of your cock down his slick wet throat. He choked slightly, but it doesn't take long for him to get use to the feeling of your cock being buried where it belongs. The sensational feeling of pleasure runs through his body anytime you take control and your dominance drips off of you. Your hands grip either side of Skippy's head, a small smirk forming on his lips as you begin to slowly fuck his throat, bucking your hips up and down. He moans in pleasure, and his eyes ever so slightly flutter back as you begin to speed up.
After a while of Skippy choking, moaning and spluttering all over your cock you pull your cock away from his mouth, hearing him let out a deep breath and also a small "awh" noise as he misses the contact. Skippy gets up and strips off naked, revealing his hairy chest and hot toned body that you love all so much. You stand up and pull down your plaid boxers as your cock springs freely, you gently sway your cock side to side adding some comedy into this deep sexual tension moment. You softly bite your lip as Tim climbs against the chair, his arms going back to open up his juicy asscheeks revealing his soft bubble gum pink hole to you.
You bite your lip, and a huge smirk grows on your face. You have no choice but to dive straight in. You get in the same position he was in as he was sucking your cock, your tongue coming into contact with his hole that is pulsating and begging for attention. Your soft tongue pushes past his muscle ring and into his warm hole, your tongue dips in and out feeling the way his walls clench around your tongue wanting you more and more. You don't eat him out for to long as you can tell how desperate he his for your cock.
You pull away and watch how his small hole clenches around nothing and how it glistens against the light. You smirk as Skippy flips himself round, slouching down against the chair pulling his legs up giving you the perfect opportunity to slide your cock right in and you didn't want to waste that opportunity. You lean your knees either side of his body and down against the pillowy couch chair, you rub your glisteningly wet tip against his hole and slowly but surely pushing yourself inside him.
Skippy's mouth makes an 'O' shape as he takes the entirety of your cock and everything you have to give him. You lean down, your face now inches away from his as you feel his hot breath against your face. Both faces painted with blush as you slowly pull out just to immediately thrust back into his clenched tight hole. He holds his legs open for you, allowing you to freely destroy him. "Good boy!" You groan out in agonising pleasure as his asshole's grip on you is to die for, "I'm your boy, I'm your good boy!" Skippy whimpers out as with each thrust his rock hard cock bounces.
"Y/N!" I gasps out in pleasure as Skippy's hands grip onto your shoulders pulling you closer to him, both your naked bodies pressed against eachother as you thrust into him. You piston fuck him which he loves when you do it, the feeling of his walls closing around you as he nears his release as he jerks himself off faster and faster. You pull away slightly and you wrap your hand around his neck, tighten slightly. As you choke him in a loving manner his walls clench around you until with one final pump of his hand around his own cock he shoots his own load all over his hairy chest.
"DADDY!" Skippy moans out in an agonising amount of pleasure, causing his eyes to roll back and his body to shudder. You fuck him through his entire orgasm. You buck your hips into him a couple more times until you pull out, "I wanna shoot it on your face" you say as you're out of breath. You smirk as Skippy is down on his knees, his own cum dripping off his chest as he smirks up at you. You pump your cock quicker in your hand looking at his face, you begin to feel overstimulated causing you to shoot your load all over Skippy's face.
"F-FUCK!" You groan out in pleasure as you begin to shoot your thick ropes of cum all over his face, painting it white with your semen. You throw your head back as you pump the last shot of cum out onto his face, you drop down to your knees to come eye level with Skippy. Your eyes meet with his once again, as you both chuckle slightly and breath heavily. "My boy" You whisper to him as you wipe some of his cum from his chest and bring it up to your mouth tasting him.
You suck on your thumb, tasting every single essence of him you watch Skippy do the same with the facial you just gave him. "So party time now" Tim says excitedly as he stands up and practically runs off into the bedroom and then into the connected unsuite. You follow along after him not wanting to miss out on shower time together, "Skippy! Wait up!" You shout out to him as you chase after him. You both end up having a make out session in the shower before the party that Skippy was dying to go to with you.
Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader
Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI
Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student
Length: 5.1k words, Fic
Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.
A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D
Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^
I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…
You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?
The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill.
Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.”
You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them.
Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night.
Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie.
“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?”
Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested.
It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same.
Apparently not.
Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill.
“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?”
“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-”
Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students.
“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”
He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture.
Then he had to reach for his stupid tie.
“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.”
His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…
Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.
Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.
“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Y/N.”
God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again.
That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in.
And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand.
“Do you mind if I forgo it?”
Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half.
It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response.
Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections.
But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.
Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances.
“Is the air conditioning broken?”
His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow.
“I-I think so.”
You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.
“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”
Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants.
“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-”
“No! I mean-”
Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him.
“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.”
An eyebrow was cocked in your direction.
“Is that so, Y/N?”
Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control.
“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”
“If that’s the case, then…”
Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible.
You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.
His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever.
Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside.
His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle.
How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do?
“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”
It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually.
Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.
Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet.
“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.”
Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey.
Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form.
“Prof-”
“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.”
Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst.
“Henry!”
He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement.
“P-please, fuck me-!”
You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one.
“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.”
You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso.
Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush.
It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling.
It was almost too much to process. Almost.
You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect.
Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.
Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night.
“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”
You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite.
And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.
Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head.
“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.”
Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick.
“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.”
Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement.
“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.”
This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it.
As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather.
How would you take his monstrous cock?
The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to.
“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?”
You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.
“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.”
His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room.
“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?”
You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.
How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act.
“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?”
He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it?
But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside.
…Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.
“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”
Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak.
“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“
You huffed out, desperate for air.
“-adjust!”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have.
That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would.
“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…”
Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further.
“H-Henry, you can move now… please…”
“Are you sure, Y/N?”
Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?”
Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous.
He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness.
“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?”
He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste.
And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder.
“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…”
Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter.
“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.”
He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure.
“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?”
Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.
His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times.
But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach.
“Baby? Y/N?”
You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out.
“Henry…”
Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say.
“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…”
The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.
“Can… can I start to move?”
Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.
Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes.
His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint.
He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock.
By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state.
But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure.
As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you.
And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation.
His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further.
By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness.
He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his.
“Y-you feel good, Y/N?”
Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word.
“Y-yes!”
He gave a crooked smile at your words.
“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?”
How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it.
You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.
“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.”
His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely.
“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.”
He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you.
“I-I’m your whore, sir!”
It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it.
“Fuck, Y/N!”
In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum.
It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable.
And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love.
“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”
You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.
You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks.
He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.
And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air.
“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?”
Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from.
But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry.
“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…”
You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again.
“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?”
The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought.
“I can see you like the prospect, hm?”
Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was.
“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.”
You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin.
Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts.
He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.
By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment.
Wait.
His apartment?
“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-”
“No, no! I’d-”
You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock.
“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.”
He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return.
He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt.
You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?”
He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.
“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”
THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH
Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.
Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content
Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him.
He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible.
“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him.
“King Robert wishes to speak with you.”
Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?”
The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent.
Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information.
Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso.
“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N.
“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening.
“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles.
“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?”
“I saw you.”
Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.”
“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked.
“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was.
Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-”
“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.”
Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.”
“Robert-”
“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.”
“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.”
Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.”
“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir.
“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat.
“The whispers I hear would say differently.”
“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’.
Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.”
“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.”
“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat.
“If I must.”
“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.”
Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men.
“Fine, tell me what to do.”
Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress.
“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers.
“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words.
Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.”
Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat.
“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.”
Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face.
“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.”
“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth.
“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.”
Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line.
“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N.
“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.”
Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest.
“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?”
“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed.
Vipers were notorious creatures; quick, deadly, and adept hunters who'd strike and catch their prey before the poor creature even realized its intentions. They were beautiful with scales that glimmered under direct sunlight, smooth to the touch as they slithered against the skin, entrancing with their beauty and charm. The Red Viper was perhaps the most deadly with his ability to dance on the line between a vicious warrior and a dutiful lover.
But alas, even with their sweet words and gentle touches, one always had to be careful of growing attached to a viper.
With the sun beginning to rise over the dunes in the east and chasing night away with its light, (Y/N) similarly went with the shadows. He moved quietly, managing to untangle himself from the prince without waking him and collecting the clothes Oberyn had haphazardly tossed around his room. Mindful of the crinkling of the clothes, he slipped them back on and spared the sleeping prince one last glance, ensuring his chest continued its steady rise and fall and his eyes remained closed.
It was not uncommon for figures to be seen coming and going from the bedchambers of the prince, ladies and men alike slipping away for whatever reason after spending a night with Oberyn. Servants barely batted an eye at him when he stepped out into the halls, merely smiling and murmuring greetings before continuing down the halls. (Y/N) could only return the knowing smiles as he returned to his room, finding relief in the fact his elder brother remained in Starfall, although the whispers would no doubt reach him in no time. Those who resided in Sunspear or even in the shadow city sitting at the feet of the castle knew of Oberyn's infatuation with him, how he frequently courted and flirted but was left brushed aside. A game of chase they both equally enjoyed.
"And so you've finally fallen into his jaws," A husky voice purred right as he reached the doors of his bedchambers, hardly needing much else to identify who the voice belonged to. He pushed his door open and turned to face the heiress of Sunspear with the hint of a grin on his lips. "It was only a matter of time. Shame, though," Arianne batted her long lashes, slim fingers toying coyly with one of her dark curls. "I hoped to catch you first."
"I'm not one of your little knights, Ari." (Y/N) replied, chuckling when her lips formed an exaggerated pout. "Nor am I my cousin."
"You most certainly are not." She laughed, crossing the distance swiftly and tossing her arms around him, purposefully pressing up against him and making use of the sheer silks she so often enjoyed wearing. With her shorter structure, she had to tilt her head up to look at him as she did with everyone else, flashing another smile. "You are much more interesting than Gerold. But alas, I love my uncle, and I will not steal his catch unless he decides to share."
"Run along then, Ari." (Y/N) gave a small eye-roll, listening to her laugh echo down the hall when she retreated, the purple skirt of her dress flowing freely behind her.
Once the sun rose and stepped out of hiding, (Y/N) knew it'd only be a matter of time before Oberyn would be on the prowl again, no doubt more determined to find him once he realized he'd snuck out of bed. He kept himself on the move, visiting his usual spots but only lingering long enough for a servant or courtier to be able to point Oberyn in the right direction.
It'd always been fun; pretending as if he wasn't fully aware he was being hunted down by the Red Viper. It'd started as youths when his parents had brought him to Sunspear, back when his siblings, Arthur and Ashara, as well as Elia Martell, were still living and breathing. (Y/N) had never given in to the prince, but he supposed Oberyn had caught him in a better mood than usual.
(Y/N) peeked over his shoulder, his footsteps light and quick while he walked, gingerly plucking a plum from one of the trays once he confirmed he was in the clear. He stepped forward toward the railings overlooking the gardens, searching for any sign of Oberyn or one of his Sand Snakes who'd no doubt betray him in exchange for helping their father. He bit into the plum, tasting the tart flavor from the skin and then a sweetness. He considered heading to the Water Gardens but right as the thought crossed his mind, arms wrapped around him from behind and caged him against the railing.
"Little Star," Oberyn's familiar voice murmured in his ear, lips brushing over his earlobe before dipping to kiss the base of his neck. (Y/N) tried biting back a smile. "You left too soon. There was more fun to be had."
"Was there? I thought that perhaps you'd be... too tired." (Y/N) replied teasingly, taking another bite of the plum before Oberyn spun him around to be chest to chest. His dark eyes narrowed playfully yet he planted a chaste kiss between (Y/N)'s brows. "A man of your age needs much rest, no?"
"You say that as if you're Arianne's age." Oberyn huffed, palms moving to run along (Y/N)'s hips and back with a familiar spark igniting in his eyes. He glanced at the bitten fruit in his hand and arched a questioning brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward when (Y/N) offered the rest to him. Instead of plucking the fruit from his hand, Oberyn swooped in to kiss him, tongue darting between his lips. (Y/N) couldn't help the muffled laugh that escaped him, his hand lightly shoving Oberyn's shoulder and breaking the kiss.
"I should have known." (Y/N) allowed himself to melt into Oberyn's arms when he brushed their noses together despite knowing fully well how enchanting the Red Viper's eyes were.
"Come," Oberyn tugged on his hips and kissed the corner of his lips. "You must make this morning's escape up to me, Little Star."
summary: male readers professor is continuously distracted by his choice of clothing, so he decides to see him after class.
requested by: anonymous
warnings: SMUT, age gap, teacher x student, feminization, dirty talk, edging.
You did it on purpose. You loved how flustered he became when you walked into a room. His glasses practically fogged up the moment you arrived to class, you always made sure to wear the most seductive and slutty outfit known to man. You arrived with knee high socks and a short-short skirt that showed your thong with every step you took, Clark couldn't take his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. He knew he should look at you this way. You practically became a sex symbol to him. You were his student and he was your teacher but he almost didn't even care, he wanted you... he needed you. He had developed an unhealthy obsession with you, and that is exactly what you wanted. He asked you to stay behind after class, and you nibbled at your lip, fantasising about what he could want.
After everyone leaves the class you make your way over to his desk, you lean onto the desk giving him fuck me eyes. "So.." He mumbles out nervously as he clears his throat "You can't keep wearing clothes like that y/n. It's distracting." Clark mumbles out avoiding eye contact with you, "You don't like what I wear sir?" you say seductively as you make your way round the desk to get to him. He clears his throat and manages to finally make eye contact with you, "your clothing is just very distracting." Clark repeats himself as he sits down in his seat trying to ignore what you're currently wearing, "is this distracting?" You lean down to whisper in his ear as you bend over in front of him revealing your pink thong to him.
"You like that sir?" You say seductively as you begin to bounce your ass up and down letting him watch the jiggle, he leans down slightly in awe feeling his suit trousers becoming tighter as he grows harder and harder watching you put on the little show for him. He rubs his eyes "no, no! We can't do this" he mumbles out. You bend back up and straddle his lap, his hands immediately hovering over your hips and then gently pulling up your skirt revealing your bare ass cheeks with the thin pink string of the thong perfectly hiding your hole. "f-fuck" Clark nervously moans out as he caresses circles over your cheeks, "I know you want to fuck me professor...do it" you whisper.
You climb off his lap and begin unbuttoning his shirt, peice by peice a section of his body is revealed until his entire torso is revealed to you, you run your hands down his hairy chest. "W-Wow" you mumble out in shock feeling his hard body, your hands travel down to his trousers pulling off the belt and practically ripping off his trousers and pants. "WOW!" You gasp out as his cock practically hits you in the face, the size of his cock was almost unearthly. You bite your lip as you climb back onto his lap and line up his cock with your hole as you slide down onto it. Inch by inch a peice of his cock corrupts your hole, he wraps his arms around your waist as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks.
"Takin' me so well," he groans out in your ear as he passionately kisses you, your tongues sliding against each other as he begins to buck his hips up into you, "f-faster" You moan out as he hits your sweet spot. You bounce faster and faster until he takes over and dominates your hole by bucking his hips up. Clark's abs flex as he comes closer and closer with each buck of his hips into his students' hole, "s-so tight. You keep squeezing me" he moans out before his cock begins spurting his seed into your hole, you continue bouncing on his thick cock through his orgasm. "A-AH" he whimpers out as you ride him harder in his chair.
You reach your breaking point when you shoot your load all over his abs as he continuously hits your sweet spot. You collapse down onto his chest, and he rubs your back softly, "Why don't you come back to mine tonight?" He whispers into your ear, "mhm" you answer softly as his cock becomes flaccid and slips out of your cum filled hole.
sylus gets sent to ur world and is mistaken as a really striking cosplayer | subtop m reader
MDNI-- warnings below cut
warning: subtop reader, dub-con (reader is drunk) erm uhh bondage
he was perplexed and confused. the blaring lights, heavy music, scent of alcohol and sweat lingering in the air. is your home always like this? there were people brushing against him with red solo cups, in outfits that were not in his world.
then he saw you-- and his eyes widened. do you dress like this for everyone? do you show off that body of yours for just anyone? sylus could feel a strange sense of possession over you, even though he wasn't even from this world. it only spiked when you turned back to the crowd, a wrapping around your shoulders.
you were clearly tipsy, a pretty flush on your face as you danced. a drunken smile was on your lips as he turned to go find you. it was like his body was moving on his own.
and when he finally reached you, and placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention, all you did was turn to him with a laugh and a smile. sweat stuck to your face as you tried to listen to him through the loud music, that same sweet smile on your face. annoyance built up in his system as people brushed against him, and as he tried harder and harder to not lose his cool infront of you. he grabbed your wrist, before pulling you away trying to find some sort of place where you could hear him.
he stomped through the halls, eventually leading to your bedroom. he could smell the scent of you on the sheets as he closed the door, hearing you flop on your bed. he looked around, before making eye contact with you.
"y-you're halloween costume is fuc-fucking awesome dude.. are you like.. like that sylus man? the one from that video game..?" you kicked your feet against your bed. the white haired man froze, something about hearing you say his name was both incredible and so unnerving at the same time. the same man he has known through the game was infront of his eyes, aware of him.
you were unaware of his silence, a rumble in your throat. "you're a really good cosplayer man.. you look like him to a tea.. even his height. its like you were born as him haha!" you got off your bed to approach him, ready to inspect him.
"so pretty.." you leaned into his ear, "just between you and me stranger,, if i could fuck him i would.. he's sooooo pretty.." you slurred your words as you stared into those ruby eyes of the delectable stranger.
hearing you of all people say that excited him. you got real close, your breath laced with alcohol before you locked lips with him. he kissed back with as much passion before flipping you over, staring slightly up at you. "that's much better.." he muttered against your lips, his signature smirk on his face. he could feel your hands pull off his shirt, throwing it somewhere forgotten.
----------
"do you let anyone else touch your body like this?" his pretty hands stroked up and down your chest, his fingertip trailing your skin as he sunk up and down on you.
"hey," he grabbed your chin, staring into that blushing face of yours. "be a good boy and answer me." your hands were tied to your bedframe.
"n-no sir.. only let you.." you didn't want to get punished, but watching the satisfaction fill his face when you said that made you embarrassed.
"good puppy, don't make me ask again next time." he kissed the corner of your lips, a whine leaving your mouth at his teasing before he continued to play with you.
sweat dripped down the side of his temple. even though he seemed like he had everything in control, you were not exactly an easy person to fit inside. your cock scraped his walls as he bit the wall of his mouth trying to compose himself. but with you looking like a whimpering dog in heat, someone needs to take control.
he grinded his hips against yours, his cock laying on your stomach. "keep your eyes on me puppy." he heaved, hands leaving your warm, flushed body for a second to push his hair back, even winking at you before returning to his previous state. his hands toyed with your body, playing with your chest, scratching down your abs until red marks followed. he rubbed circles on your pelvis. you were a pretty bulky man, yet putty under his gaze.
but seeing that body of yours, it was still too pure, unblemished even. the satisfaction of claiming you ran deep in his veins, and he wanted to show it on you as well. he leaned to you, kissing and licking up your neck before sinking his teeth into your flesh. he could feel you tense up from the pain, while he left his marks on you. he nibbled on your skin, sucking and kissing. this continued from your neck to your collarbone, to your chest.. it was like he was trying to cover you in marks.
sylus groaned, feeling you grind up into him. the mushroom head of your cock grinded against his prostate, a long deep grunt leaving his lips while he rolled his hips to that spot. his cock twitched and he rolled his head back, before slowly starting to ride you. he angled his hips to hit his prostate on your cock, his fit body feeling shocks of pleasure whenever he rode you.
he continued to ride you, listening to the sounds of faint party music and your whimpers and moans, and the lewd noise of your cock meeting his insides. his legs and thighs were starting to get sore
"p-puppy, m'gonna cum.." sylus heaved out, his hair disheveled and his cock ready to cum, "lets cum together." you frantically nodded, trying your best to hold out for him. you looked at him with teary eyes, overstimulation starting to get to you. he could feel how tense you were, hips shifting and your cock pulsing inside of him.
the two of you chased your high, sylus moaning while he shot out a load over your stomach, while you pumped him full of cum.
and when the high came down, he simply untied you and limped into your bed with you. the warmth of your body was something unfamiliar to him in many regards and he unsure of how to proceed from here with you. yet seeing how much of a big teddy bear you were, he didn't regret any of it.
when you woke up he was gone, but a new outfit was given to you that was sylus exclusive, and his dialogue options all changed after that day.
Summary: The Wolverine was unmatched in the fighting ring, until a new face arrived and turned his life upside down.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
CW/TW: Typical X-Men Warnings, lots of blood mentions, violence/fighting, both fluff and angst, Logan being as whipped as he was for Jean with (Y/N), age gap cause Logan is super fucking old lmao, more so snippets/a concept over a full fledged fic.
divider by cafekitsune!
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Wolverines generally avoid humans in the wild but are known to be particularly aggressive and even dangerous when cornered or provoked, prompting them to put those sharp canines and claws to work. Wolverines are known for their incredible strength and stamina, but mostly for their infamous ferocity. Despite their reputation as ill-tempered loners, wolverines are known to be social with others and will form lifelong relationships with their mates.
It'd been a cold evening in Laughlin City and most of the bar's patrons had shuffled into the establishment with their faces nearly hidden behind hoods and scarves as they scrambled to get out of the snow and chilling winds. The occasional gust of wind blowing in whenever the door opened left patrons simultaneously groaning in complaint but the heater emitting warm air kept their grumbling and huffing to a minimum. The nipping cold had soured many moods, and Logan could see many men itching to forget about the cold with an adrenaline-pumping fight. He was just eager to make an easy buck.
He braced an arm against one of the cage's support beams and watched with a hint of a smirk as his latest opponent staggered out of the cage, his buddies narrowly catching him before he could plummet onto the hardwood floor and further batter his face. The locals eyed him with a certain disdain, certain suspicion, but he put up good enough entertainment for them to tolerate him. He sniffed, hardly phased by the punches he'd taken during the fight, and nodded to the referee.
"Does anyone else dare-"
"I'll have a go."
Logan immediately craned his head to eye the voice's owner, foreign and new to Laughlin City. He'd been participating in cage fights long enough to begin memorizing the locals, and the fresh face staring back at him was an utter stranger. Passing by Laughlin City, Logan assumed, but he lacked the particular smell of gas, car air freshener, and look of exhaustion to be a trucker like most of the patrons taking up seats around them. He observed him, taking in every inch of his new opponent as he rounded the cage. He seemed young, but then again, so did Logan.
"Name's (Y/N)." He said, staring Logan in the eyes as he shed his jacket and shirt. Someone nearby took both articles of clothing for him, likely eager to see what he'd do, or how he'd go down. Logan had managed to break two noses and chip a few teeth already, one could only wonder what he'd do next. "Nice to meet you, Wolverine."
Logan simply grunted and pushed himself off the support beam, rolling his neck and curling his fingers into tight fists. (Y/N) grinned at him, almost arrogantly, but not with the usual cockiness of a man who thought himself the toughest guy in Alberta. He appeared... too calm for Logan's liking, but once the referee stepped out of the cage and closed the door, he decided to focus on beating his face in instead.
They circled each other first, eyes raking over the other from head to toe in search of a weakness to exploit, of a twitch that'd give away their next move. Logan could hear the muttering of the crowd, the impatient tap of fingers and boots, and the intensity in their stares. His eyes flickered away briefly, and he immediately cursed his mistake when (Y/N) lunged. Despite a part of him urging him to dodge or block, he remained still, expecting (Y/N)'s knuckles to break upon impact but instead, his fist connected effectively with Logan's jaw and he nearly stumbled onto the floor.
Managing to catch himself as scattered gasps echoed from the crowd, Logan grazed his fingers over his aching jaw and raised his head to look at the man. Mutant. No human had ever taken a swing at him without immediately spraining or breaking something, let alone been able to make his head turn with a punch. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk and the crowd erupted into cheers, primarily egging (Y/N) on to beat him to a pulp; Logan wanted to see him try.
The ache in his jaw faded swiftly, just in time for Logan to take a swing at (Y/N) and see how much he could tank. (Y/N) dodged his quick swings efficiently, taking steps back each time before he caught Logan's forearm and swiftly spun, his back pressing to Logan's chest before Logan was promptly hauled over his body. He collided with the floor, the cage trembling as if an earthquake had struck, and Logan doubted it'd be able to take the weight of his body a second time without damage. (Y/N) flashed another little grin down at him but instead of taking advantage of his momentary shock, he took a step back and allowed him to get up.
A professionally trained mutant, Logan deduced when he got to his feet, intriguing. And worrisome. He hardly needed a group of mutants on his ass begging him to join them.
"You ready to give up your title of champion, big guy?" (Y/N) questioned with a hint of a mocking coo, his words rowdying up the same crowd who'd turn on him if they learned of his mutant abilities, although Logan guessed they likely already suspected and merely wanted to see him hurt for a change. Challenging in his tone but his eyes studied Logan with a degree of curiosity he typically never saw in others.
"We're just gettin' started, bud."
"Even better."
Everything afterward felt like a whirlwind of punching, kicking, dodging, and blocking; Logan's favorite sort of dance, and one that'd hopefully end with some cash in his pocket and a well-deserved cigar. He managed to maneuver (Y/N) around, his arm coiling around his neck to put him in a headlock most wouldn't survive. (Y/N) pressed back against him, forcing them to stumble backward until Logan's back collided with the cage's wall that miraculously managed to stay put without giving out on them both. Logan released a guttural groan when (Y/N)'s short blunt nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red marks behind with specks of blood that only made him tighten his hold.
"Anything goes, right?" (Y/N) wheezed, his palm pressing against Logan's arm, a chill shooting down Logan's spine when it slowly moved on its own and gave him enough space to catch his breath without the pressure on his throat.
"The hell-"
Straightening his knees and tossing his head back into Logan's face, Logan cursed and released him fully to bring a hand to his nose. He covered it, waiting for it to heal without catching the eye of the people around but (Y/N) gave him no time to recover. He spun on his heel and took another swing at him, bringing his knee up into Logan's stomach when he doubled over and then slamming the bottom of his boot into the side of his face. His head slammed against a support beam and he groaned, the aches and pains healing rapidly but before he could stand up, he realized his body refused to follow his wishes.
"Giving up yet, big guy?" (Y/N) asked with a tilt of his head, eyes glinting with newfound warning. "We'll be here all night at this rate."
Logan swallowed, a hint of panic surging forward at his inability to move and the mystery surrounding the powers being used against him. Some sort of mental ability, he guessed, but whatever it was he disliked it tenfold. Logan grinded his teeth in frustration and begrudgingly nodded. "Fine," He grunted and sighed in relief when (Y/N) released whatever hold he had on him, allowing his body to relax and slump.
While, yes, losing a fight was a bruise to his pride, Logan found himself more intrigued by the fellow mutant, if not more cautious. With the sky darkening outside, Logan retreated from the cage to collect his belongings and ordered some beer while he watched (Y/N) at the other end of the bar. Once the bartender placed the beer down, he scooped it up in his hand and rounded the bar toward him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the men who clapped (Y/N) on the shoulder as if he'd done everyone a service. He waited, though, for everyone to be out of earshot.
"How'd you do it?" Logan questioned quietly, chugging back some beer and smacking his lips as it flowed down his throat. (Y/N) fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sparing him an amused glance and an arched brow. "The whole- the whole body thing. What is it? Some sort of telekinesis?"
"How about you walk me to my motel and I'll tell you all about it?" (Y/N) grinned again, eyes crinkling despite the way they'd been going at each other moments prior, and he turned toward the exit with a beckoning nod. Reaching into his pocket, Logan jingled the keys to his old, busted RV and watched his grin widen.
Out in the cold night, semi-trucks passed them by on the icy roads beside the snow-tipped bar. (Y/N) tugged his hoodie over his head, keeping it on when he sat in the passenger seat and relished the light heat that filled the RV once Logan turned it on. Logan glanced at him, eyeing his light attire once more but keeping his questions to himself despite curiosity knawing at him insistently. He kept his eyes on the road, careful to avoid going at a speed that'd have them sliding into the forest around them.
"It's not telekinesis." (Y/N) muttered, reaching out and fiddling with the radio dials until he found a decent station. "I.. I controlled your blood. It's not as, uh, clean and pretty as telepathy or telekinesis but it's pretty useful in most cases. I can sense when someone's sick, too, or even help with cuts and infections. I'd make a pretty decent surgeon, honestly." He gave a small chuckle.
Logan snorted, though some unease settled in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah? How'd you figure out you had it?" Logan glanced at him again and immediately noticed the way his features fell.
"It's not a pretty story." He sighed softly, his head tilting to watch the trees and snow pass them by in a mixed blur. "Let's just say, some of my blood got out of my body and I panicked.. and it started levitating... anyways, enough about me, big guy. What's your thing? It can't just be that super-healing thing, right?"
Pursing his lips, Logan clutched the wheel with one hand and curled the other one into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he watched his claws slide out and then swallowed when (Y/N)'s features brightened. Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand and Logan retracted the claws, an unfamiliar feeling swirling in his stomach as he felt (Y/N) run his fingertips over his skin, tracing his knuckles and then the veins along the back of his hand. It'd been a while since he last left a gentle touch, and a quiet part in the back of his mind almost considered him unworthy of it.
"My name's Logan." He grunted softly, the typical tension he always carried fading with each delicate caress.
"Well, Logan," (Y/N) lifted his head with a cheeky smile on his face, his thumb pressing into one of the veins and drawing Logan's eyes toward him. "You mind keeping me company tonight? Or do you have someone you have to get back to?"
The motel was as rundown as Logan expected, dimly lit hallways occasionally plunging into darkness when the light flickered above them, and the curiosity surged forward again, prodding him to question where the mutant had come from or why he'd chosen Laughlin City of all places to stay in. But (Y/N) gave him no time to dwell further on it, the back of his foot kicking the door shut behind them before his hands grasped the collar of Logan's coat and pulled him in.
There was a dangerous addictiveness and allure to (Y/N), from the way he effortlessly danced the line between sweet and rough: a kiss full of tongues and teeth and nips but smoothed over by gentle fingers massaging the muscle of his biceps when Logan slid his coat off, only for those same fingers to slip through his brown strands and tug. It triggered something within Logan, a growl emitting from his throat as broad hands grasped at the other's hips and drew a breathless laugh from (Y/N).
As much as he enjoyed considering himself a lone wolf, the brief connection with others during one-night stands always reminded him he was still partly human, even when others considered him a savage brute. He savored it, savored when he had (Y/N) on his lap, his chest rising and falling with heaves and lips parted to release low grunts and groans. He savored the feeling of (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely, his breath fanning against his ear and allowing Logan to hear every noise he exhaled. He savored the ability to dig his fingers into soft flesh without worry, or sink his teeth into (Y/N)'s collarbone and feel the mark heal beneath his lips. He mostly savored the addictive warmth encircling him and the pleasure that made his thighs tremble.
His arms tightened around (Y/N), pressing him close to his chest, and captured his lips to swallow another whine. For the first time in who knows how long, he found himself hoping he'd see more of (Y/N) around.
But after a few days, the mutant disappeared from Alberta, and a week later Logan took a girl by the name of Rogue under his wing.
"You may see another familiar face here."
Logan turned his attention away from the mutant children, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at the sight of them living happy lives without the threat of danger from those who despised them for simply existing. He searched the outer yard for any sign of Marie, but he assumed she was likely still getting acclimated to her new home at the school, and finally peered down at Charles questioningly. Charles smiled knowingly and motioned off to the side.
"While I prefer having (Y/N) here for his safety, he enjoys venturing out to help others. I hear you two became acquainted while he was away." Charles spoke, and without thinking twice, Logan's head snapped in the direction he'd pointed in, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight of (Y/N) walking toward him with that godforsaken grin that'd plagued Logan's thoughts and dreams for weeks. "(Y/N) has called this school home for many years, and he often helps with the more severe injuries. I'll allow you two a moment to... catch up."
(Y/N) nodded to Charles as they walked past each other before stopping in front of Logan and crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilting playfully to the side and eyes drinking him in. "It's nice seeing you again, Logan." He stepped closer, eyes lifting to meet his once more. "Here I was thinking about taking a drive back to Alberta. Guess you must've read my mind."
"Pretty sure that's Charles's thing," Logan replied, pressing this thumb into (Y/N)'s chin and curling the rest of his fingers under it. He had to, otherwise he would've convinced himself he was imagining things, that the mutant who'd managed to make him laugh and smile was still miles away someplace else. "What were you doin' in Alberta?"
"I heard rumors and whispers about a man down in Laughlin City and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I would've asked you to come back with me but.. that didn't seem like the type of pillow talk you'd appreciate." He explained softly, leaning into Logan's touch and closing his eyes briefly when Logan pressed his palm fully against his cheek, still caught in the fleeting worry he'd wake up and find himself on the side of the icy road with Marie nowhere in sight. "You're here now, though." His eyes opened. "Are you staying?"
"I don't-"
"Oh, come on," (Y/N) scoffed lightly, warmly, and moved in even closer. "It's nice here, Logan. I can finish showing you around and we'll find something for you to do. The food's good, the rooms are nice, and it's... freshening to hear the laughter of kids finally being happy. You'd make a helluva teacher, I bet. Everyone's favorite." His genuine tone shifted into a teasing one, laughing softly when Logan rolled his eyes.
Lifting his brows, Logan smirked and brought him close, itching to close the distance despite a heated voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve the warmth and acceptance. "We can start and end the tour in the dorms-"
"Only if you promise to stay." (Y/N) cooed, tilting his head away to dodge a kiss but he allowed himself to be tugged into an embrace. His arms curled around Logan's shoulders, lips drawing back into a wide smile before he planted a kiss on the corner of Logan's lips. "If you stay, we can finish what we started... and see where it goes."
Logan leaned back, his brows twitching down into a furrow but (Y/N)'s grip around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay and not flee from his words. He swallowed, conflicted in the way his brain and heart battled. Half of him screamed at him to leave, to go before he could mess everything up but another part desperately clung to the idea of staying and finally having a place to call home, finally having a person to call home.
He noted the flicker of uncertainty in (Y/N)'s features following his silence, felt him beginning to draw back from the embrace. Logan secured his arms around him and allowed a ghost of a smile to slip. "Yeah," He murmured, weakly at first. "I'd like that."
Truthfully, Logan hadn't been fully listening to what Scott- or well, what Cyclops had spoken about in the briefing about their latest mission. He'd heard the usual 'group of anti-mutants' and promptly tuned out afterward in favor of soaking in how (Y/N) looked in the dark suit, though noted somewhat glumly how it didn't allow him to wear the engagement ring. His staring hadn't gone unnoticed given the amused glances Jean stole and the exasperated exhale from Cyclops before they were dropped near the location of the warehouse.
"Good luck, Lo." (Y/N) whispered to him, planting a kiss on his cheek and dragging his fingers over Logan's beard with a mischievous glint in his pretty (E/C) eyes.
They'd separated pretty soon after, splitting up to cover more ground given the amount of people working with the group. It hadn't taken long at all for the fighting to begin, and despite Cyclops pushing for them to use as little force as possible, Logan couldn't help bruising and cutting a few people up. He managed to knock out a gunman when he heard the distinctive clap of thunder. Amusement had him cracking a grin followed by pity toward whichever fool dared face against Storm, but then he heard her shriek:
"(Y/N)!"
Too high-pitched, loud, and full of horror for Logan to brush aside as a warning call. His footsteps thundered throughout the halls as he moved, shoving and swinging his claws at anyone who stood in his way until he stumbled upon the sight, eyes immediately finding (Y/N) on his knees with Storm beside him. Logan beelined toward them, dropping into a crouch and promptly feeling a wave of nausea pass over him at the sight of (Y/N) blood-stained hands grasping desperately at his throat.
"They-" Storm swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with panic. "They shot him. He- He can't heal with the bullet-"
"Darlin'," Logan exhaled shakily, pulling him swiftly into his arms and attempting to keep his composure despite the wheezy exhales and gurgles filling his ears. Blood spread across his throat, blobs of it levitating only to lose their perfectly round form and fall onto the floor with splatters each time (Y/N) grimaced. "I know it hurts but you have to focus on gettin' the bullet out. Baby, hey, focus."
(Y/N) stared up at him, wide eyes filling with tears and shoulders shaking with his hiccups and trembles. The red tint of blood on his lips filled Logan with a familiar sense of dread, his arms holding him tighter so (Y/N) wouldn't feel him trembling as well. He watched the blood oozing out of the wound rise, oddly shaped and raised while he worked on shoving the lodged bullet out of his throat before he choked to death on the very thing he could control. He wheezed and coughed occasionally, droplets of blood flinging onto Logan's cheek and coloring his beard but he paid it no mind.
Storm fiddled with her earpiece, stuttering out explanations to Jean and Cyclops and urging them to move quicker. Logan thumbed away the tears that slipped down his (S/C) skin, forcing himself to give encouraging nods and smiles despite the hurricane threatening to break within his chest.
(Y/N) tilted his chin up toward him and Logan swooped in eagerly, kissing him despite the blood that danced on his tongue afterward. He heard the familiar clatter of metal falling onto the floor and leaned back, eyes flickering around frantically until he spotted the bloody bullet rolling around beside them.
"Hey, hey, you did it. You-"
Storm exhaled shakily. "Logan."
Logan's head snapped back toward (Y/N)'s face, first noticing the dullness in his eyes and then the way blood continued freely oozing from the wound. He stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the limpness in (Y/N)'s body and the stillness of his chest, the world around him slowly coming to a standstill. Storm's sniffling cries and the frantic questions from Jean and Cyclops as they finally arrived became distant, unable to focus on anything but (Y/N).
"Hey..." Logan exhaled, cupping his cheek as his brows furrowed into a tight-knit. "Hey, hey, hey, you- you can't do this." He furiously blinked away the tears that glazed over his vision, rubbing his thumb into (Y/N)'s cheek and waiting for him to nuzzle into his touch as he always did, but it never came. "You can't do this. You can't-" Logan cradled his body against his chest, burying his face into his collarbone as he'd done dozens of times before. (Y/N) remained unresponsive, his arms falling limply at his sides from Logan's movements.
"You can't do this to me. You promised you'd never leave."
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. with halloween coming to a disappointing end, what's a better way to end the holiday than to get candy-wasted on john's offer of his king-sized candy bar?
𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 6.7k ].
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 halloween!au 〳 husband!john 〳 established relationship 〳 kissing 〳 sexual content: top!john, bottom!reader, anal penetration, rough!sex, no prep, breeding, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), pain kink, slapping, spanking, armpit fetish, humiliation, degradation, body worship, cock worship, over-stimulation, extremely hung!john.
“Think that might be the last of ‘em,” John said, shutting the front door and turning off the porch light. “Not a single Lydia Deetz, Ennui, Deadpool, or Wolverine costume in sight.”
It was Halloween night.
Declaring Halloween as your favorite holiday would be unjust to the true fanatics. More than anything, you loved the celebration for the atmosphere. You loved the smell of autumn coming into full bloom by virtue of artificial cinnamon and apple in soy candles rather than the fresh leaves withering outside. You loved driving by neighborhoods to see all the houses that had been decorated, fictionalizing a house-decorating competition in the process. You loved how spooky TV would get, from horror movies to reruns of old sitcom episodes that had a Halloween theme.
Most important of all, you loved taking your kids out to trick or treat with John, watching them outgrow their costumes every year and growing teary-eyed at the likelihood that they’d eventually stop having you and John come along with them in favor of their friends.
Even though you mentally prepared yourself for the moment, you weren’t expecting this year to be the time where your son and daughter would tell you that they would be sleeping over at a friend’s for the celebration. As if there was any option for you and John to protest too, it suddenly struck you how quickly they were becoming their own person, because they had already packed their bags the night before.
But also—damn you, for raising them to be so direct.
When John returned back to the couch, you glanced at the bowl.
“Do kids these days not go trick-or-treating anymore? We’re doing less refills than usual,” You took the half-empty bowl from him and rummaged through the assorted candy bars. “When I was a kid, I used to circle my neighborhood multiple times because I was determined to not end the night with a barren bucket. I also knew my parents would steal from my stash whenever I was asleep, so that was another incentive to prolong the pain in my little kid legs.”
You knew you were babbling and were beyond caring. From the smile John gave you, he seemed more entertained by the endless vault of childhood stories than the horror marathon you two had started since six o’clock in the evening.
“All those candy runs seem to be paying off considering your calves are the size of bowling balls,” John laughed, arranging your legs to lay them across his lap as you resumed lounging. To prove his point, he began unzipping your costume’s pant leg one-by-one, ventilating your ankles and calves finally free from the tight spandex.
You breathed a sigh of relief when the draft in the air chilled the sweat on your skin, then another, when John’s large hands began stroking and kneading at your legs. You probably should have guessed that John had other intentions in mind since his hands only traveled north, in which your calves were nowhere to be found.
But what would be the fun in calling out your lover’s extremely apparent advances? For a brief moment, you two sat in silence, putting the TV on mute because the marathon had run its course, but also to hear the sound of John’s hands, calloused, warm, and large over the plane of your body, exploring you and the ribbed costume like he was learning texture for the first time.
It had been quite a long time since it was this quiet in the house. You had to have accidentally said it out loud, or John’s telepathic abilities were only awakened on Halloween night, because he was looking at you like you had whet his appetite, hazel eyes cataloguing your body like it was a dirty magazine, lips bitten in secrecy.
“What’s on your mind, Captain America?” You let your legs wrap around John’s waist when he pulled you to sit on his lap, fixing his tousled hair with a smooth swoop of your hand, and affectionately squeezed his large shoulders after.
God, John filled out his costume so well. No wonder you couldn’t stop glancing at him throughout the night, the tactical suit made him look much larger and imposing—you couldn’t help but run your hands all over his body and his tight muscles beneath the fabric, the contoured lines of the costume was practically inviting you to do so.
“I’m thinking… the neighborhood is quiet. I’m thinking that the kids are preparing for bed, and that the parents are drunk off their children’s candy stash, which means you can finally take it easy for tonight, Spider-Man.” John’s smile was terribly broad. You could feel him fiddling with the pull tab on the back of your costume with one hand while the other was caressing the side of your thigh, nearing dangerously closer to your rump.
It was a cheap costume that ran for no more than forty bucks, which meant you could feel the heat radiating off of John’s palm.
“Take it easy? I’ve been taking it easy. I got my popcorn, some king-sized candy bars, a scary flick, a rather inquisitive man holding me…” You shivered when his hand paused on your right buttock and squeezed. “Nothing’s beating this right now.”
He began kissing your neck, his beard ticklish and feathery over your flesh. “Really? Nothing at all?” Both of his hands were on your rump now, massaging tenderly at the handful of thick flesh in his palms.
You must have indulged in the warmth and strength of John’s grip on you for far too long, because out of the blue, he began knocking the silence out of you with strong smacks to your ass, drawing out a collection of moans and grunts from you as he fixated on marking up your neck until your mouth was in vicinity.
When his strong palms came down onto your cheeks again, your lips parted at the right moment he would seize them, capturing your mouth for a slow, languid kiss. John’s lips tasted like a celebration. You could feel the crumbs of sugar from the fruit ropes he was eating prior roll off his lips and onto your tongue, flavoring the kiss of green apple. You moaned, gently holding at both ends of his jaw, while your hips grew conscious of how your body was reacting to John’s tongue invading your mouth, pressing your growing tent against his pelvis with slow rolls, pushing your ass out to meet his hands.
“Nothing at all, unless…” You groaned when the stinging over your covered ass was only heightened by the unrelenting grasp John had on your ample skin. If he wasn’t so busy tonguing your mouth open, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him tearing your costume into two within the next second. “You have something to bestow upon me?”
“Ever heard of a monster-sized candy bar? I got one that’s filled with vanilla cream for you, specifically curated to your taste buds. What do you think? I’ll trade ya’.” The spirit of Halloween affected him as he laughed into the kiss, the tip of his nose crinkling in effect and swiping over yours when he resumed in exploring your mouth.
“I think it sounds like a trick, you a con-man?” You lightly pushed at his chest to break from the kiss, then lingered to silently admire his well-built pecs. You weren’t sure if you were more turned on by John’s hard-work and dedication, or the fantasy of him as a superhero—saving you from your ultimate demise.
Regardless, your hips only rutted harder, swooping low to brush your erection against his, then raising them high, to grind your rump over his arousal.
“Keep moving your hips like that, and you’ll find the answer soon.”
An inquisitive hand of yours reached in between John’s thighs. It didn’t take long, hardly a millisecond, to find what you’d been searching for.
The mass in your palm was overwhelmingly large and thick. You felt your throat go dry when the weight of John’s bulge was heavy enough to unfurl itself within his suit, across his right thigh, and reach to a point of hardness where one hand of yours found it impossible to tame it alone.
You stroked the enormous print, focusing on the apparent head with your thumb, and then squeezed. Hard.
“Fuck, (M/N). Upstairs, now.”
As you sat on your knees, the scent of arousal filled your nostril. There was something enthralling about this position, being bare and naked on the carpet, while you were looking up at John’s hard cock through your lashes. He was already monstrous enough, but the angle from below provided insight just exactly how jaw-dropping his size was.
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Captain. What would you like in exchange?” Bracing your hands on his strong calves, you nuzzled the underside of his erection. You sucked in a breath at the smell of it. The heat and musk built from a long day of work, finally released out into the air, tickled your nose pleasantly and made your mouth water. “‘Three musketeers?’ ‘Butterfingers?’ ‘Hershey’s?’” You slapped his heavy cock over your lips, mouthing over the tender spots of his glans.
He had his arms behind his head, exhaling slow and steady, sporting an expression that told you he was the luckiest man alive, not that you needed that affirmation, as you held his cock tight around the base and suckled at the plump, pink tip. “How about ‘(M/N)’s Pieces?’ Yeah? Is that up for grabs?”
You could feel his hairy thighs tense up when you taunted him with the tiniest licks over his heavy, full balls. It was amusing, watching his cock jolt over your face—like they were envious of such half-hearted actions.
“You mean, the candy that would make a kind and handsome dad, such as yourself, turn into a ferocious beast of a man?” Holding John’s lustful gaze, you took a long and slow lick at the underside of his shaft, the girth of it thicker than the width of your tongue.
You felt complacent when he let out a hoarse moan upon pressing your nose deep into his cock-slit, inhaling deep. “Yeah, that one…”
You traced the prominent veins on his cock with your tongue—thick, pumping blood vessels that made him throb over your mouth with rage. “You know, you’d have to work really hard…” Between fondling and suckling his full sack into your mouth, you stroked his shaft and muttered, “To break me into pieces.”
It was difficult enough to maintain some semblance of order, but the taste of John’s sweat, blooming delicately and stimulating your appetite like an hors d’oeuvre, made you nearly submit as your knees felt inclined to spread wider, and wider, letting you enjoy your last moments before you’d yield.
You hoped you were distracting John enough, being caught in the middle of humping the air and fucking yourself back on some imaginary dick would’ve gave him the upper hand.
“I do—oh, fuck…” He choked back on a moan, the heat of your mouth as you suddenly slid his cock inside melted the composure off his face. His thick shaft strained, stretching your wet mouth uncomfortably. The chances of you taking all of John inside of your mouth was slim to none. You’d done this so many times, tried everything, from practicing with a dildo to enduring the tears welling, to get him down your throat, but your body wouldn’t give in—it simply couldn’t.
He was much too big for your own good.
John was large. Tall. Always has been, and always will be. His muscular legs were open wide, his face was slack-jawed from your tantalizing tongue, and even though you could barely fit half of his cock inside of your mouth, you were still in control.
You pulled him out with a gasp, nearly choking back on the spit pooled in the back of your mouth, and sniffled. “You do? You sure about that?” There was no doubt that the inevitable was going to happen. Gagging on John’s large cock was a given, but it was the messiness of it all, that made your cock leak. “I don’t think you can handle it.”
His cock was coated thick and heavy in a glorious sheen of spit, translucent pearls shining on the veiny skin. One hand was massaging his balls while the other was adamant in slicking him up until the weight of your own saliva was enough to weigh him down.
You temporarily freed John from your fist to slap his wet and large cock around. It was delectable, watching his giant tool swing from the impact of your smacks. Webs of thick spit occasionally flung to your face, as if his dick was fighting back against your horrendous taunts, but all you needed to do was tame it with your mouth again, and the reign on John’s body resumed.
“I am, and I can…” John grunted, his abdominal muscles flexing. You could see his toes curling into the carpet at the corner of your eye, swirling your tongue over the swollen pink head while the rest of his monster cock was being man-handled by your quick hand, tightly grasping to keep your hand from slipping.
“You absolutely sure?” Your words turned him on, his cock maddening in course as it spat out drips of pre-cum from the squeezing grip you had around his shaft.
The substance wouldn’t stance a chance against your urges, you eagerly went on to lap it up, forcing more of the viscous fluid to come out with competitive strokes to aid.
“I’m sure—baby, come on, enough—“ He struggled to contain his moans, arching his hip forward to push himself further into your mouth, but you wouldn’t have it. Instead, you reeled yourself back, slapping his cock once again as punishment, and remained at tip’s length.
You could tell he was getting frustrated, you knew of his mannerisms for years now. For God’s sake, you were his husband. His jaw tightened and his eyes leered down at you with sudden alert—like a silent warning. He exhaled sharply as if the draft in the room had infected his strong body with frostbite.
Nonetheless, you continued entertaining yourself, knowing the consequences—anticipating them, rather.
You tongued the urethra of his dick, welcoming every drop with greedy sucks, all while you hadn’t left John out of your sight for a single second. You could make John orgasm right then, you were so sure of it.
“You really, really, really sure?” Your smile was smug, feigning innocence while you mouthed on his thick piece of meat, stroking yourself to the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from his tip.
John’s gaze immediately darkened.
He loved watching you slap his dick across your face. He loved being in awe at his own size, especially when you’d shower him in praises as you compared his big cock to your forearm.
I’m going to break my ass taking you, John. Holy fuck…
He loved having his dick sucked, point blank period. How sloppy it could get, how nice his cock felt when it was being slimed up with such pent-up arousal. You were confident that you were over-delivering in that department too because the lower half of your face was dripping in your own saliva.
“What’s the matter, big man? You don’t want to fuck me anymore? Break me into pieces like you originally wanted to? Think you won’t satisfy me enough?” You pursed your lips over the plump head, provoking John by the sudden languid pace of your wrist. “Answer me,” You slapped his large cock again, your own erection throbbing from watching John grit his teeth in sudden refusal to give in.
“Are you sure or not? Huh? Answer me,” John sucked in his teeth every time you smacked his cock, and you proceeded to hound him harder, narrowing your tone. “Your cock’s useless. Can’t satisfy me. Can’t satisfy a fucking flashlight with how big it is.”
“Ghoul got your tongue, or what?” You smacked his cock hard. “Your big fucking cock—” His cock swung. “—seems to be doing—” Pulsed in a fit of pique. “the speaking for y—“
A harsh slap cut your taunts short.
You let out a gasp, your hand instantly coming up to hold your cheek and tranquilize the stinging pain. Shock crossed your face, bewildered as though you hadn’t been anticipating his catharsis the entire time.
“Enough,” He pulled you up by the jaw to meet your lips hungrily, his large hands clamped tight around your neck like you were fresh carp farmed for hatchery. “You’re really testing me today, aren’t you?”
The kiss was searing, your lips volunteering themselves to be bitten and sucked to be forgiven upon the increasing pressure around your throat. Maybe you were still coming to terms with the slap, but it swallowed you whole nonetheless, rendering you incapable of producing a single coherent thought.
You whimpered softly, his resentment was beyond recall as his hands remained solid, one thumb looming over the center of your throat, “Hit me again—“
He stabilized you with one hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and let his other hand swing across your cheek, harder than previously.
“F-fuck!” You could feel your cheek blooming with heat, stinging as if a million of rose thorns had prickled your skin to poison you with its color, and you couldn’t have asked for more.
It was too good. John’s large hand imprinted hot on your face, and it felt too fucking good. You were branded, an extension to the wedding band around your finger, a reminder of your undying love for him.
“Get on the fucking bed,” John growled, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, slow yet imposing, before sending you away with a gentle kiss on your stricken cheek, a much-needed relief you had been silently clamoring for.
The metal clanking behind you sounded like church bells, but you resisted the temptation of looking over your shoulder, fearing that whatever John had in mind, he’d strip it away upon your lack of diligence. You crawled onto the bed on all fours and anticipated nervously
At long last, you felt your royal throne crumble into a million pieces.
You suppressed an urge to swear. The heat emanating from a strip of leather when he struck your ass was bartered directly with the devil himself. Another peep out of you, and John would’ve banished you to hell to pay your dues to the fallen angel.
“It was cute, I have to admit…” Your body jolted when John muttered near your hear. In the time his hand was soothing your whipped ass cheeks, the other had a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back for you to look at him. “Seeing you think you had control over me, even going as far as to humiliate me and my cock—did that make you happy? Huh?”
“I-I don’t know—“ You struggled to find the words, your mouth parting instead to lean in for a kiss in hopes to distract him, but John quickly caught on. He knew you, very well in fact, yanking your head back harder to coax a gasp out of you. As John had expected, he then pushed a thick wad of spit into your mouth before pulling you by the back of your neck into your original position.
You shuddered, smacking your lips at the arousing taste of John’s saliva spreading in your mouth. You savored him, wanted John to last forever on your tongue. You didn’t want to swallow. You wanted to simply let his spit pool with your own and mix into the perfect elixir that would work perfectly as a muscle relaxant, something that would greatly aid you in taking John’s cock—knowing the likelihood that he wouldn’t be easing up anytime soon.
“Answer me.” Your eyes widened in a silent plea when John taunted you with the belt in his hand. Before you could moan out so much of a beg, the leather in John’s hand came down swinging at your buttocks and seemingly cut through flesh. In turn, your four limbs gave out from the electrifying bolts of pain, making you collapse onto your stomach from the arresting strength of John’s resentment as you cried out in pleasure.
“Oh, fuck! F-fuck, fuck, fuck…!” You writhed in bittersweet glory, choking back on swears and instead, what came out were delicious straggled sounds that made John’s cock uncontrollably pulse. Your hands roamed the bedsheets, clawing at the silk material in search for a physical outlet to release the tension in your body. “I-I’m s-sorry—“
His cock was near you, lubed up in a thick, alluring sheen. Maybe John wouldn’t mind if you held him. Plead for him to stop with lazy, but abiding stroke. You bit your lips and stretched over to grab him.
He lifted your head again for you to face him. You sniffled, letting the tears roll down your flushed face before another wad of spit would accompany them in their journey. “You’re not answering my question. Were you happy?”
Upon barely brushing your fingers over the head of his cock, you reeled yourself back when the belt came striking down on your ass again, breaking skin as repercussions to your hedonistic behavior. Your legs came up to kick back at the air violently, grinding out the pain by digging your swollen cock into the bed.
You had enough.
You needed John.
Now.
“Y-yes! I was fucking happy! Watching your large cock swing like that. Degrading you to the point where you were too ashamed to answer me. Abusing your pathetic tool because it’s too immersed in its own girth to know that I actually despise your cock. Should’ve seen the look on your handsome face—god, I could’ve came right there. All because I was in control. You fucking let me, you fucking delusional self-obsessed cuck—”
At breakneck speed, John curtailed you of your vigorous speech by shoving your face into a pillow, mounting on top of you with one foot pressing hard to the back of your head, and grunted, “How do you like me now?” Pushing all of his body weight to vault you out of an escape route, you felt his cockhead suddenly breach your hole.
“Holy—shit!” You sobbed at the discomfort, kicking your legs back as John pushed more of his large cock further in, adding onto the painful stretch of your unsuspecting hole. You felt his a palm on your ass, spreading one cheek open to aid the slide. “Fucking, more—Johnny! More, more, more—“
“There we fucking go, fuck. Look at that hole. Fucking swollen around me, and I’m only halfway in,” he licked his lips, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm as he loosened your raw hole with shallow thrusts, his cock pushing deeper at every rut.
Your body’s natural reaction was to propel yourself up for some air, but after the first turn, John instantly took both of your wrists and bound them behind your back, your back muscles squeezing in effect. When you pushed your ass out, his foot pressed harder like it had the power to bury you six feet under if John had no concept of restraint.
It was painful, all of this, your neck was hurting, but especially your hole, his unrelenting thrusts—but, be that as it may, you were so happy that you didn’t have to remind John to leave you unprepared. Otherwise, the pleasure of John’s large cock gutting you raw wouldn’t have overstimulated you, not to this profundity. Your wriggles only made John hold onto your wrists tighter, his heel press deep into your nape, you were sure it would be bruised by the next morning.
You felt so used, your body at his disposal. Your cock was painfully rubbing between your pelvis and the bed from the impact of his strong thrusts, but you were leaking and throbbing nonetheless, staining the sheets from the thrill of it all—of being John’s personal fuck-toy.
“Feels fucking incredible. Shit, baby—“ His cock was digging into you like an excavator, slow in its journey, but you could feel him sowing excitement deep into you, nearing the crown of your prostate with the grind of his hips. You clenched tight, gripping your aching walls around the girth to provide John an incentive to go at you harder.
Not loose enough.
He had to fuck you open.
And you were desperate.
The perks to being married was that pleasuring one another came second nature to both parties. Luckily, you led a charmed life, and John was here to bestow upon you your weekly demands.
He released his foot on you, but you groaned when he pressed his remaining weight on top of your writhing body. “If you’re good…” John panted hot on your shoulders, accompanying the abruptly slow roll of his hips with chaste kisses to the shell of your ear and the moist parts of your neck. “Maybe I’ll let you play with your cock.”
“Please…” You flexed your toes into the sheets when John nearly pulled himself out, thankfully leaving only the swollen tip in.
“No, I had a change of heart. Maybe, I’ll let you jack off until you explode all over your sweaty body,” you pushed your ass back to slide more of him in, but a hard smack to your ass nipped your oscillation in the bud. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I’ll be good—promise…” you looked over your shoulder at John with glistening eyes and a sniffle, finding yourself frowning when he pulled himself completely out, and insisted on rubbing his wet cockhead over your raw, blossomed pucker.
“See? This is how it’s supposed to be—the natural order between you and I,” he sighed, giving into your desperation, and pulled you in for a sweet, lingering kiss after releasing your hands. A sigh of relief, you braced yourself half-way up with an elbow, the other hand reaching back to rest on John’s nape, and locked his lips deeply into yours, pacified by the soft fur of his beard on your chin.
His tongue messily swiped over yours as you both had intended to explore each other’s mouths. You two met in the middle, bridging each other’s spit from one mouth to the other. When a dribble of drool dared to leak from the corner of your mouth, John had incredible foresight and was already lapping it up before it could trail to the bottom of your chin.
“Say you love my cock…” John whispered, swaddling you into his arms from behind and carefully maneuvering your body on top of him as he switched positions, reclining himself onto his back.
Interlacing his legs with yours, John then pushed them apart with the spread of his knees, twisting his ankles over your own to lock you in place. He angled his hips to slide his dick over your taint, letting you wallow in the sight of his plump tool nearly curve over your throbbing erection.
“I love your cock…” You muttered softly, nuzzling the side of his kempt beard. The smell of bourbon vanilla lingered delightfully in your nostrils as you watched him from the corner of your eye, drooling when you caught a glance of his large cock spit thick drips of pre-cum over your balls.
It was fruitless to even try to attempt to close your legs, John’s calves overpowered your own by tenfold. In spite of your wish, John compensated by reaching below, trailing his warm hand over your ribs and stomach in passing, and wrapped his hand around your cock, slowly pumping.
“Say, you’ll be a good boy for me…” Brushing your hair back, John claimed a hold over the back of your head, raising his left arm to welcome your face into his armpit.
You moaned at the warm, musky odor. The thick hairs reeked of sweat. Salty and slightly spicy in your nostrils, yet you couldn’t help but inhale for more, breathing in the natural pheromones and making your cock dribble out ample amounts of pre-cum when the aroma of John’s masculine scent fogged your passing judgement, and had you licking at his pit.
John cradled the back of your head, quickening the strokes on your cock seemingly as a token of his appreciation while you buried your face in the bush of dark hairs, nuzzling and licking long stripes over the plane. It was addicting, yet embarrassingly filthy as it registered how easily John had reign over your freewill. Your spit gathered in the center of John’s armpit, where the hairs were grown the thickest. They were beads of your devotion, and you couldn’t have felt prouder marking your territory.
Your mouth watered and tingled at the ripe taste lasting on your tongue, then, when John suddenly tipped your chin up and spat inside of your mouth—you felt like you were in heaven, like your body wanted to crumble in front of him from the intimacy of it all.
He captured your lips again, and you muttered softly, “I’ll be a good boy…” You watched him with lustful eyes, anticipating his next move. His right hand had stopped stroking your cock in favor of massaging your tight balls, making you squirm with desire. When his other hand released his hold over the back of your head to toy with your perky nipples, the simultaneous pleasure carried a hoarse tune of desperation out from your throat.
“You’ll be daddy’s good boy?” He nuzzled your ear, kissing the shell of it.
“I’ll be whatever daddy wants me to be,” you slowly rolled your hips when you could feel John line his cock over your hole, lubing your pucker with the thick fluid leaking from the crown.
“And you want daddy’s big cock?” He rested one hand on each thigh respectively, spreading your legs farther by the aid of his knees.
“I’m aching inside…” Your cock twitched upon feeling so completely vulnerable and bare for him.
“Then, let’s turn that ache into pleasure, shall we?”
That was all it took. A heartbeat, a single push of John’s hips, one strong stroke, and he claimed his territory. It was beautiful. Your silky flesh fluttered and clenched on his cock, and your eyes popped open wide when he slammed upward.
John ripped a glorious moan out of you. Your neck strained with beautiful veins as your attempts to bite them back were powerless in comparison to the spark of passion in John’s hips. You could see the very moment the fire flared in John’s eyes, his fingers gripping a mound of your thighs until they had turned white.
You were filled to the root, uncomfortably-so as John’s biceps bulged with strong veins on account of the bend of your legs. He capsized them, holding them back at the crook while he deliciously hollowed your hole deep with his monster cock, your feet dangling in the air from the pure drive.
It was a reminder. That you were his. That you were his only. Nobody could ever own you like he owned you now. John made sure those thoughts wouldn’t dissipate by making sure you felt every inch of his plump, meaty cock burrow in and out of you. John was adamant in making this more than a memory. He wanted you to wake up and sleep thinking about him. Thinking about his cock. Thinking about how brutally stretched you felt right now, and that you didn’t mind at all—because it was John, your loving husband. He would do anything for you, and right now, he was living up to his many vows of loving you fiercely, of completing you, of loving you forever and every day.
“T-too much, John—“ It wasn’t, you were lying—it was fucking perfect, but god, did you love making your husband feel powerful. You loved feeding his cock with arousal, feeling him throb harder while he pummeled himself faster into you at your spoken truth. “Cock’s too big—“
“I’ll make a cunt out of you, wear out your tight little hole until it’s leaking like one,” He growled. You cried out from unabashed lust, holding your legs back to expose yourself further, and John set the animal free at the depiction. He held your waist, dragging your unsullied hole through his hardness until only the tip was left before connecting the drop of your weight with a powerful thrust, punching into your prostrate.
“That’s what you are, right? My good little cunt? Just a good boy who can do nothing right, but take my large cock.” John gutted loud moans out of you, his gaze locked on your wrecked expression because watching you take his cock was equally as gratifying as sinking himself of you, down to the root. “Say it. Say you want daddy to make a cunt out of you.”
You were falling in love with this animalistic side of John. With the sensations he was supplying and overwhelming you with. Your cock was sure to agree, throttling as if there was a phantom hand stroking its shaft.
“I want—a fucking cunt. Want daddy to make a cunt out of my hole, please—“ You felt deviant, like those words shouldn’t have left your mouth, but it was all the worthwhile because John kissed you hard on the mouth, groaning.
Up to the hilt, John thrusted into faster—harder as you choked back on a moan and nearly gagged on his tongue. “I’m going to fill you up with so much of my cum, you’d be leaking for days.”
“Oh, God—“ You gritted your teeth, exhaling loud and hard because it was coming. Your stomach clenched and your balls tightened without the need of your hand.
“You’d be lucky to walk tomorrow, (M/N). You’d need my help walking you down the stairs. Even then, I wouldn’t be so sure if we’d make it to the floor. Knowing the prospect, I’d just take you right then and there, on the fucking stairwell, making your ass gape once again.”
“John, s-stop—I’m going to—“ Your eyes rolled back until John could only see whites. His words supplied you with the mental picture of the filthy smut coming out of his mouth. It came to you naturally—the smile on your face. You were broken in your state of reverie, dazed by the fantasy of taking John’s cock anywhere and anytime he pleased. Using you however his mind and body desired like he was now. Balls-slapping against your taint, sweat sticking your body to one another, pants and groans loud in your ear, the air thickening with the act of pure lust, pounding into you with no intention in letting you recover your breath. “S-stop, fucking coming—“
“Look at me,” John ordered you, panting.
Your eyes were heavy when you looked up, mere slits from the weight of your desires, heavily drugged by John’s poisoning rapture on your wrecked body. You pressed a smile against his mouth, making no attempt to kiss him, but to simply be in close proximity, pressing his nose against yours. He grappled at your hips, digging your insides with the weight of his large cock, piercing into prostate harder and faster as he took a bargain on your orgasm coming to a near.
You were stunned, the gutting you were enduring from John hitting you like a ton of bricks. You emptied your throat of sounds, the inner walls dry and scratched like the desert. All you managed for John was vigilant whimpers, any more forewarnings were fallen on deaf ears as you’d been knocked into a trance that melted your speech into meek garbles of incoherency.
It only took a few more seconds before your brain rewired itself and had your body floundering within John’s loving embrace, alerting you awake. With the help of John’s cock continuously assaulting deep at your prostate, you felt your body tense up, your hole clenching around pillar John’s pistoning staff to stop him, but he prevailed, breaching through the resistance, and slammed hard into your prostate once more, splitting your ass open and knocking the orgasm out of you.
John held your gaze, marveling over the ecstasy in your otherwise blown-out expression. His brows furrowed in utter fascination as your mouth parted open, only for your moans to adhere to your throat instead, blowing your load in agonizing silence. Thick ropes spurted powerfully out of your throbbing cock, splattering messily over your chest. With the buck of your hips, you graced your face with your cum-shots, additionally provoked as John used the strength of his heels to lift himself to meet you at an elevated height, fucking the cum out of you.
The sound that came out of you was guttural, transporting you into another dimension where you were caught in a whirlpool of toe-curling sensations. Rubbing a hand over your stomach, he could feel it sink in as you liberated yourself from your high, uncontrollably spilling over your pelvis in midst. Yet, despite your dazed state, your eyes never left his, provoking him to come inside of you with desperate, but gentle murmurs on his lips, as well as the addition of the ring of muscle spasming around his shaft.
“Fill my cunt up, make me fucking leak…” You showered his lips in soft whispers, finally releasing your grasp on your legs to stroke at his cheek. Squeezing, caressing, urging—for him to seal your hole.
On the drop of your legs, you squeezed them close together until your knees touched, confining his shaft between the clamp of your inner walls. You clenched hard when he was buried to the root, foiling the pace of his hips, and let your swollen insides bring him closer.
“Oh… shit…” John’s eyes rolled back, and finally spilled with a shudder.
His large cock jerked deep inside of you, and soon, you felt his warm seed fill you to the brim. You felt your bond with John transcend, higher, beyond space and time, with every pulse of his thick veins pumping cum deep into you.
Upon capturing John’s lips for a kiss, he circled his hips, making you moan languidly into his mouth. You swallowed every breath of his, swirling your hips against his own cautious thrusts in retaliation, gratified by the warm, thick coating of cum your insides were receiving, soothing your spellbound hole and stirring his connection to you.
“Didn’t hurt you too bad? Think I slapped you too hard.” John asked softly, gently rubbing a palm over your stricken cheek. You could see guilt in his expression as he brought you closer to claim your lips The moment was soft, the complete opposite of previous events, silent apologies to your mouth as John’s mouth was lingering, yet electrifying all at the same time as he sucked on your lower lip.
“You. Were. Perfect.” You warded off the guilt with a smooch after word, rubbing his chest. “I asked for it, you know that. It was fun, wasn’t it? Something different to spice up the bedroom.”
“Hm…” He laughed at your sudden eagerness, as if you hadn’t been debilitated from his cock moments prior. Tucking one arm behind his head, his other hand idly began petting at your head. He retired for the night with the shut of his eyes, contemplating on their newfound kink. “Let’s see how I feel when you’re the one slapping me next time. Then we can judge it accordingly.”
“Holy shit…”
“Mhm.”
“I’m pulling out the dumbbells. Too late to go back on your word now, John.”
“Wait, now that you—“
“Not a single word, or I’m making you call me ‘Doctor’ as an early punishment.”
“We both know how this will turn out. I just need to pull my dick out, and you’ll be back onto your knees, no matter how much you try to resist.”
“I… plead the fifth?”
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
request: Hey OP saw that you wanted some requests for Ghost and I was wondering if you could write some Ghost x male reader 🤭🤭 where they’re roommates (could be civilian AU or military) who both claim to be “straight” but are so gay for each other. I kind of make this opened ended there’s like zero Ghost x male reader stuff 😭😭
warnings: smut, some fluff i think, cursing, pervert!simon, pervert!reader, civillian!au, jerking off, fingering, making out
you and simon ended up as roommates after learning that he had nowhere to stay after getting of his mission and now every day is a struggle to stop yourself from pouncing on the man, you and him both claimed to be straight, casually bringing it up while on a mission with the 141 team but your actions tell a different story, longing glances and drawn out touches says that you both like each other, but both of you don't know that about one other, to sure that the other is strictly straight and doesn't hold any feelings.
the dynamic is kind of simple around the apartment, you usually cook and clean while simon is out working and he'd do the same when you're out, but recently simon has wanted to take the role of cleaning more often, that was a lie though he hated cleaning but when he realized he could use it for his own perverted nature he was eager to do it more, when doing laundry he'd steal a pair of your used underwear just to sniff it and jerk off with it.
fucking into his fist in the dead of night when he thinks you're sleep, using your underwear as a sort of gag to capture his deep groans, the imagination of fucking you senseless flooding his mind over and over till he came with choked back grunts that you heard unbeknownst to him, you both sitting on the couch watching tv the next morning as if he didn't imagine fucking you till you moaned every letter of his name.
and you well you weren't nearly any better than him, always sneaking into his room when he was at work to lay in his bed, sniffing whatever scent of him was left on his pillows and wrapping yourself in his blankets to then finger yourself to the thoughts of him using you like a cum rag, filling you up over and over till you cant think, and you knew that your fingers could never match up to what simon probably felt like but you wanted to know so bad.
you both wanted each other so badly but never knew if the other wanted it to, till one fateful night where you were both chilling in the kitchen cooking up some dinner when you turned around and bumped into simon, his hands quickly moving to hold your waist so you don't fall and you both stood there for some time, just staring into each others eyes "oh uh sorry" he stuttered releasing his grip on you and baking up "don't be" you quickly say wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss the man.
you having to stand on your toes just to reach his mouth with yours and with that you pulled back, a couple more seconds of silence following before he's picking you up and taking you to his room, and my god was that night good, you were both living out your fantasies of each other simon cumming over and over again till he was milked dry and you ending up a messy and incoherent mess splayed on his bed.
after that it was like to rabbits fucking constantly, over and over, day and night or even morning time by this point the neighbors were begging you guys to calm it down but that still didn't stop you guys, to drunk off one another love to even think of stopping, now here you were making out on the kitchen counter with simon after trying to bake desserts like you too didn't fuck that morning, after simon came home from work, and before dinner seems like tonight's gonna be a loud one.
A/N: Was listening to more than friends and eyes don't lie by Isabel LaRosa while writing this :3 Just remember, english is not my first language, so sorry for spelling mistakes and bad wording! also, sorry that it's a bit short :(
CW!: Based on my bot I made! (just click on the word 'bot' for the link <3), this is merely headcanons and brabbles and not a full fic (unfortunately), both SFW and NSFW headcanons/brabbles, this Rafe is heavily based on my bot, not the Rafe in the series, same character, just not personality, do not come for me if his personality is wrong or that he won't do these things. Rafe is 20 years old in this. In public you and Rafe are close friends, in private you are fuck buddies, and in Rafe's head you two are dating (you don't know that though) Rafe is hella possessive and clingy (like badly), slight somnophilia!, mention of violence, Rafe is slightly pervy, Rafe is a bit too much into you, Bottom! Rafe x Top! Reader, reader is a male at birth (AMAB) but otherwise, the gender of reader is not explicitly explained, so can be read as transfem reader (who still has a penis)
Words to describe reader: you, your, you're, [name]
" 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙐𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙄𝙉', 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉' 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙊𝙉𝙀 "
SFW
・☆・ He definitely acts like a jealous girlfriend and an insecure one around you even though he knows the both of you are just 'friends'
・☆・ You were his first friend in kindergarten, and now you're still his closest friend even to today
・☆・ You're basically his first contact in his phone, oh, he needs something? He calls you if you have it. Oh, he done something? You're the first to hear about it, he barely even hides things from you now, you two have known each other your whole lives basically
・☆・ He laughs at your jokes often (even if they're not funny), seeing you happy makes him happy
・☆・ Rafe definitely gets jealous often, especially when another person tries to be in your life
・☆・ Be prepared for Rafe to give someone the meanest and nastiest stare if they try to flirt with you (you're his)
・☆・ Rafe definitely buys you things, clothes and accessories mostly, it makes him smile when he sees even one item he bought you on your body
・☆・ Rafe wears a necklace you bought him, and you wear a necklace he bought you, it's of course matching necklaces (one be barely takes off)
・☆・ When the both of you were younger, he definitely slept over at your house a lot and went to school with you like that, a few days a week at least, barely even in his own house during that time
・☆・ Rafe def likes to cuddle you when ever he comes to sleep over (he still does it even though he's 20 now), he doesn't care if he's the big spoon or little spoon, he just wants to hold you while he falls asleep
・☆・ When he gets hurt, expect him to be already at your doorstep, asking you to patch him up, and while you do it, he just smiles at you, asking if you can also kiss it better
・☆・ Oh, but when you get hurt? Even just a bit? He's already hunting down the person who did it, probably carrying a bat with him too, ready to teach the person a lesson to not touch his friend
・☆・ He has a shit ton of things of you, some he stole, and some you bought him or gave to him, he never even threw the things away you gave him when you two were younger, he still has everything, he would rather die then throw those things away
・☆・ Rafe isn't bisexual, or gay or straight, he's [name]sexual, he's basically only attracted to you, yeah he slept with other people before, but why should he when he has you? He just needs you, all he needs is you
・☆・ He acts like your personal bodyguard sometimes
・☆・ Follows you around like a lost puppy, you're the only one he hangs out with almost everyday (he gets pissed if you're gone for too long, and I mean a literal day, he gets pissed if he doesn't see you or gets to hang out with you for a day)
" 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙃𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝙈𝙔 𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙎𝙏 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 "
NSFW
・★・ You were his first wet dream, and you were the first person to take his anal virginity and the last (now he won't let you go)
・★・ Has put some innocent person in the hospital just because they touched your arm and tried to flirt with you
・★・ Has wrapped the necklace you bought him around his cock, stroking himself with it wrapped around his cock, watching it glistening with lube, knowing that your hands was on the necklace at one point before you gave it to him.
・★・ Thinks about you when he hooks up with a girl, you can't leave his head- and it's the only way he'll even cum during sex with the random girl
・★・ Often masturbates to pictures of you
・★・ Did I mention that Rafe just loves to stare at you? Thoughts going inside of his head, some innocent... some not so innocent, imagining you naked, his eyes going over the bulge between your legs, or going over you hands, imagining your hands wrapping around his neck while you fuck him
・★・ His favorite part of your body is your hands obviously, he always imagines that his hand stroking his cock is yours, or that your fingering him when he fingers himself (it's never the same feeling)
・★・ When Rafe sleeps over, be prepared to wake up with either his hand or mouth wrapped around your cock, and when he sees that you're awake, he'll only claim that you were "hard" when he woke up so he decided to help you out
・★・ Rafe loves to ride your cock, it's his favorite position, his other favorite position is probably prone bone, he loves to stuff his face into his pillow while you pound him from behind- hell, wrap your arm around his neck and choke him like that, he absolutely loves it
・★・ Rafe definitely hints that he wants to wake up to you fucking him, since you woke up so many times with him pleasuring you, he wants you to do it back to him, as almost like payback
・★・ Rafe doesn't really care where the two of you fuck, just not visibly in public, maybe in bathrooms, or secretly grinding against each other in the library, but he does not want to be caught, scared that it'll ruin the Cameron name
・★・ Would suck the soul out of your body through your dick, especially when you're trying to game or on a call, he likes to tease you like that
・★・ Oh, but if you do it to him? If you suck him off like it's his last day on earth? God, he is whiny, he wouldn't even be able to talk with anyone while you suck his cock, not even if he tries to block the noises with his hand, you'll still hear him whimpering and whining about how good it feels
・★・ Loves it when you cum on his face, he'll even stick out his tongue while you paint his face white with your cum (don't get it in his hair though, or he won't talk to you for 10 minutes straight)
・★・ Only watches porn if one of the people in the video looks like you, even if just slightly, or if they don't show their face, but he'll still watch it if the person's body matches yours
・★・ He probably wouldn't leave the business to be your househusband (one day, he prays, he seriously does), he'll want YOU to stay at home while he works, one he can come home to, eat some of your delicious food and then get all the stress pounded out of him <3
★☆ all works belong to @onekmaway, do NOT steal, copy or repost anywhere without permission from ME personally. ☆★
Summary: When Mike calls you for help with Abby, a simple favor turns into a tense confrontation with his aunt, who questions your place in their lives. As she tries to drive a wedge between you and Mike with her hostile remarks, you stand up for the family you're building together, proving your unwavering support. Mike, overwhelmed by your loyalty, pulls you into a moment of intense passion.
Content Warning: This story contains themes of judgment and skepticism along with instances of homophobia, manipulation, and verbal abuse. (Nothing too serious or explicit though). Reader discretion is advised.
Tags: Part 3 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Blowjob (reader receiving). Riding. If you have an idea for a part 4, please let me know <3. I love spending time in reading others opinions
Words count: 4500
Can also be found on wattpad and ao3
Part 1 - Part 2 -Part 4
The afternoon stretched lazily before you, the sunlight filtering through your dorm room window as you packed away your books. There were no more classes to attend, and for once, a rare moment of calm settled over you. Just as you were about to take a break, your phone buzzed insistently on the table. You glanced at the screen.
Mike's name flashing.
A small smile tugged at your lips as you answered.
"Hey," Mike greeted, though his voice carried the unmistakable edge of stress. "Sorry to bother you, but I really need a favor." There was a pause, and you could almost picture him on the other end, running a hand through his hair, his posture tense as he spoke. "I need someone to pick up Abby and take her to her friend's house. She's got that sleepover she's been excited about. I'd go myself, but I'm buried in stuff for the custody battle, and I can't get away."
You could hear the strain in his voice, the tightness that spoke of too many worries stacked on top of each other. It was the same tone he often used when he felt overwhelmed but didn't want to show it. Without missing a beat, you nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Of course, Mike. I'm on it," you assured him, your voice firm and certain.
"Thanks," he said, his voice softening for a moment, and you could hear the genuine relief in that single word. "You're a lifesaver."
When you arrived at the place, the air was filled with the usual cacophony of children's laughter and the chatter of parents. The building was bright, colorful murals on the walls depicting cartoon animals and cheerful scenes of nature. As you pushed open the doors and walked in, you felt a shift in the atmosphere.
Heads turned, and a sudden hush seemed to fall over the room. The mothers gathered near the entrance exchanged glances, their conversations tapering off as their eyes followed you with a mix of curiosity and quiet judgment.
You could almost feel their gaze assessing every detail: the way your clothes hung on you, the youth in your face that contrasted sharply with the tired lines etched into theirs.
You squared your shoulders, doing your best to ignore the prickle of their stares. Dr. Lillian stood by the door, clipboard in hand.
When her gaze landed on you, her brows knit together slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Can I help you?" Dr. Lillian asked, her tone professional but with a hint of wariness that suggested she was already trying to place who you were. You offered her a small, polite smile, your hands tucked nervously into your jacket’s pockets.
"I'm here to pick up Abby," you explained, feeling the eyes of the other moms still on you, like they were collectively holding their breath. "I'm, uh, Mike's boyfriend."
For a moment, Dr. Lillian said nothing, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she studied you. It was as if she was weighing your words, trying to reconcile them with whatever expectations she might have had.
The silence stretched, every second feeling heavier than the last.
You could feel the judgment radiating from the gathered mothers, a silent chorus of disapproval that buzzed like static at the back of your mind.
They didn't say anything outright, but their whispered comments and sidelong glances spoke volumes: too young, too out of place, too unfamiliar. You could practically hear their thoughts, each one a prick against your skin.
Dr. Lillian's eyes flicked briefly to the cluster of moms, catching the murmurs that rippled through the group, their mouths hidden behind manicured hands as they leaned into one another with expressions of subtle distaste. The woman’s frown deepened, her skepticism clear as day, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your heartbeat quickening.
You felt their judgment like a physical weight pressing down on you, your skin prickling under the heat of their stares. It wasn't just that you were younger than Mike, though that certainly added to their curiosity. It was the fact that you were stepping into a role that, in their eyes, you had no business stepping into.
Finally, Dr. Lillian spoke, her voice careful, almost too neutral. "I see," she said, her gaze still locked onto yours. "And Mike couldn't make it today?"
You shook your head, trying to explain. "He's caught up with some important work legal matters. He asked me to come pick her up and take her to her friend's house for a sleepover."
Dr. Lillian regarded you for another long moment, and you could tell she was assessing you, trying to decide if you were trustworthy. But before she could say anything more, a small figure came bounding towards you from the classroom. It was Abby, her face lighting up the second she saw you.
"There he is!" Abby's joyful cry cut through the tension like a knife as she ran up to you, her little arms reaching out for a hug. You crouched down just in time to catch her, scooping her up as she giggled happily.
Her small legs wrapping tightly around your waist. The sheer enthusiasm in her embrace sent a wave of relief washing over you, and you couldn't help but smile at her, ruffling her hair affectionately.
Abby's joy was infectious, her grin wide and unreserved as she tugged on your hand, dragging you over to where her friend was waiting. "This is my friend!" she exclaimed proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she introduced you.
Dr. Lillian's expression softened at the sight, her skepticism melting as she observed Abby's unfiltered happiness. It was hard to argue with that kind of unguarded enthusiasm, and for a moment, she seemed to reconsider whatever reservations she might have had.
Abby was beaming, and the teacher, perhaps sensing the sincerity in her joy, nodded slowly, sending a pointed look at the other mothers whose judgmental whispers were now met with a silent rebuke.
With that single, subtle gesture, Dr. Lillian dismissed the underlying scrutiny from the room, her posture relaxing slightly as she glanced back at you.
"I see," she said, her tone more sweet now, though the hint of caution still lingered. "Well, Abby seems happy to see you." She turned her attention fully to Abby, offering her a warm smile. "You have fun with your friend, okay?"
Abby nodded enthusiastically, still clutching your hand as she looked up at you with the kind of trust that made your heart swell. Dr. Lillian gave you a final, appraising look, but there was something softer in her gaze now, her approval implied in the way she turned back to her duties, no longer questioning your presence.
Once you dropped Abby at the friend's house, you watched them run inside, giggling and shouting excitedly about their plans. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment that you'd helped make her day.
With Abby safely at her sleepover, you decided to head over to Mike's place to give him the update in person. You knew how much he worried about her, and you figured he'd want to hear directly from you that everything had gone smoothly. Plus, you hadn't heard back from him since his call, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he might appreciate a little company, especially given how stressful things had been lately.
When you arrived at Mike's house and knocked, you heard his footsteps approaching before the door swung open. He looked a little tired as always, his hair slightly tousled and the faint shadows under his eyes betraying the strain of the day.
But when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, albeit weary, smile.
Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you. A quick, soft peck that still managed to make your heart skip a beat. It was his way of saying thank you, his quiet, unspoken gratitude.
"Thanks for doing that," he said, stepping aside to let you in.
"No problem," you replied, squeezing his hand as you stepped through the doorway. "She's all set at her friend's house. They seemed really excited."
Mike nodded, but as you followed him into the living room, you noticed there, sitting stiffly on the couch, was Mike's aunt.
Her presence was like a cold wind blowing through the room, her posture rigid and her expression already set into a hard, disapproving line. She barely acknowledged your entrance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced from Mike to you and back again.
"Well, isn't this a surprise," she said, her voice sharp and condescending. She had the kind of tone that suggested she was used to getting her way, her words laced with an undercurrent of disdain that immediately put you on guard.
"I was just telling Mike how important it is for Abby to have a stable home environment. And it definitely is not-“ She gestured vaguely in your direction, her lip curling in distaste “-whatever this is."
Mike's jaw tightened, his calm demeanor visibly strained under the weight of his aunt's hostility.
He stepped closer to you, his hand finding yours in a small, defiant show of solidarity. "This is none of your business," Mike said evenly, though there was a bite to his words that suggested he was holding back more than he let on.
"You're here to talk about Abby, not my personal life."
She scoffed, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. "Your personal life directly affects Abby," she countered, her gaze now fixed firmly on you. "You think it's appropriate for her to be exposed to this? Two men playing house? It's confusing and, frankly, irresponsible. She needs a stable, traditional environment."
You could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, a hot, bubbling frustration that threatened to spill over.
You knew what she was really after, it wasn't about Abby's well-being, but about money. You'd seen it in the way she maneuvered through every legal loophole, trying
to make Mike's life as difficult as possible.
Mike squeezed your hand, a silent plea for patience, but you could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his aunt's words cut deeper than he'd ever admit. She wasn't just attacking you, she was undermining everything Mike had worked so hard for, all the sacrifices he'd made to be there for Abby.
“Now that I think about this little arrangement of yours. It's all so convenient, isn't it?" She paused, letting the weight of her words settle like a noose tightening around your neck. "Mike saw how you looked at him, didn't he? How you were desperate for his attention. And he played you like a fiddle, didn't he? Using that puppy-dog crush of yours to get exactly what he wanted."
She wasn't done. Oh, no, she had more to say, and it was clear she was savoring every moment of it.
"He's using you," she sneered, her voice dripping with icy contempt. "You're nothing more than a convenient babysitter for Abby. Someone to watch her without costing him a dime. And let's not forget the sex. Oh, that's just a nice little perk, isn't it, Mike?”
His arm, which had been resting lightly around your waist, suddenly tightened, pulling you closer as if to shield you from her venomous words.
"That's not true," Mike said, his voice low and trembling with barely controlled anger. His eyes, usually so calm and gentle, were now filled with a fierce protectiveness, his gaze locked onto his aunt with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “I would never— never use him like that.”
His words were laced with emotion, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. But you could feel the way his hand trembled slightly as it gripped your waist, the way his breath came in short, sharp bursts.
"I genuinely like him," Mike continued, his voice rising slightly, betraying the depth of his frustration. "He's not just some... some tool to be used when it's convenient. He's-" you placed your hand over his, squeezing gently to signal him to stop.
The simple gesture was enough to break through his anger, and he fell silent, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the need to defend you warring with the exhaustion that had been weighing him down for weeks. You offered him a small, reassuring smile, letting him know that you understood, that you appreciated his defense, but that this wasn't worth losing himself over.
You'd had enough.
"Wow," you began, your voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and cool detachment, "you really went all out with that one, didn't you? I mean, it's almost impressive how far you're willing to stretch the truth just to make yourself feel better."
"You have no idea what's best for Abby, and neither does he!" She jabbed a finger towards Mike, her frustration boiling over. "You're both too young, too reckless, and you're making a mockery of what it means to raise a child!"
You could feel your pulse in your ears, a steady thrum of determination that pushed you to meet her gaze without flinching. "It’s ironic that you call us reckless when you’re the one trying to uproot Abby from a loving home for your own gain. Maybe it’s time to rethink who’s really being irresponsible here." you said firmly, your voice unwavering.
Her nostrils flared, her eyes blazing with anger as she glared at you, but there was no rebuttal. The truth of your words hung in the air and you could see the cracks forming in her façade.
With a final, furious huff, she grabbed her purse from the couch, her movements jerky and furious. "This isn't over” she spat, turning on her heel and marching towards the door. She slammed it shut behind her with enough force to rattle the walls, the impact made the door bounced back, swinging open again as if mocking her attempt to make a dramatic exit.
You rolled your eyes at her reaction, moving your legs to close the door. But before you had time to touch the handle, Mike turned you around and pressed you against the door, his body warm and solid against yours, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.
The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you in the quiet of the house.
His eyes were open and raw, revealing a depth of emotion that took your breath away. Love, yes, but also a fierce protectiveness, a gratitude so profound it was almost overwhelming.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with the weight of the confrontation and the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.
Then, without warning, Mike leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours as his eyes fluttered closed. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.
You leaned up, closing the gap between you as your lips met his in a kiss.
His hands were gentle, but there was a trembling undercurrent of need in the way they roamed. One slipping into your hair, the other finding its way to your waist, pulling you in, anchoring you to him. Mike's kiss was urgent, driven by a whirlwind of emotions that had been bottled up for far too long.
He needed this.
Needed to let go of the frustration and the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface.
His hands roamed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer.
You returned his fervor, your hands trailing up his arms, feeling the strength hidden beneath his skin. You moved with him, letting him guide you back through the hallway, your bodies never parting as you made your way toward his bedroom.
Mike's kisses were insistent, almost desperate, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping underneath to feel the warmth of your skin.
He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "God, you have no idea how much I needed this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words almost a growl as they escaped his throat.
You nodded, your own breath ragged as you pressed another kiss to his lips.
His response was immediate, a fierce pull that had you stumbling back as he pushed forward, never letting the connection break. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell onto the mattress, Mike quickly following, his body hovering
over yours.
He looked at you with a mix of reverence and raw hunger.
Mike's kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he lingered, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin.
Mike's grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as he buried his face against your neck, his lips pressing fervent kisses to your skin.
The idea of you standing strong by his side, protecting what was his-what was yours-had driven him to the edge of control. And now, here in this moment, it was all spilling over.
"All mine. My good boy."
He mouthed along the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing lightly, just enough to make you gasp and arch into him.
He was methodical, almost reverent, as he worshiped every inch of you with his mouth, his hands, his entire being.
You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he took the invitation eagerly, his kisses growing more urgent and demanding.
"God, you're so good," Mike whispered, his voice breaking with emotion as he held you tighter, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss that left you both breathless.
His eyes were dark, half-lidded with desire, but there was also something softer, something deeply affectionate that made your chest tighten.
"So good for me. For us." His praise was a gentle hum against your lips.
He smiled.
A small, lopsided grin that was all Mike, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, a claiming of sorts, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a fervor that left you dizzy. The thought of you, him, and Abby as a family, an unbreakable unit, seemed to feed the fire inside him. It was as if the very notion had unlocked something within him, something primal and possessive, a need
to make you his in every sense of the word.
Mike's hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a swift, decisive motion, he stripped you of it, the fabric discarded to the side without a second thought.
The cool air of the room met your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Mike's body as he continued to kiss you, his lips tracing a path of fire down your chest.
Breathing it in, he lets out his tongue to slowly lick the tip of your cock through the fabric, a tingling sensation now courses its way all throughout your body making you a whimpering mess. Biting your lips to suppress the sound, you take your hand to grab a handful of Mike's curly hair.
You feel fingers around the rim of your underwear, as those said fingers pull them. He licks his lips and starts to lick you tip, now without the barrier of a fabric.
You throw your had back, arching your body, pushing your hips close to Mike's face.
Not taking any longer, he submits his mouth to take on your length, reaching up to the back of his throat, this earns him a scream from you, as you whimper more and more with his tongue tracing every vein and ridge.
You didn’t wanted this moment to end too soon.
Your hands instinctively moved to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles there.
For a brief moment, Mike paused, his lips lingering against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.
Without words, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and guided him gently. You maneuvered him so that his back was now against the wall of the bedroom, your movements deliberate yet unhurried, a quiet assertion of the control you wanted to share.
Mike's eyes widened slightly at the change, the shift in power as you climbed onto his lap.
His hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm. His gaze roamed over you, a mix of pride and awe lighting up his features, his expression softening as he saw the confidence in your movements.
A slow, wicked smile curled his lips as he teased, "So, my sweet, good boy wants to be in control, huh?" The words were a low, husky murmur, a taunt laced with a deep seated affection that made your heart stutter.
Despite the blush that crept up your neck, fueled by the raw intensity of his gaze, you held his eyes and, with a shy but determined voice, you whispered, "I want to...I want to ride you, Mike. I want to make you feel good."
The admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and you watched as his expression softened, the smirk giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart swell with love. "You already do, baby," he murmured, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you. "But if that's what you want..."
He trailed off, giving you the power to take the lead. The sensation of his strong hands on your hips was intoxicating, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to tether you to reality, even as the rest of the world seemed to blur and fade away.
One by one, you undid them, each click of the fabric parting adding to the electric tension between you. Mike's breath hitched slightly, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself sink into the sensation, the gentle tug of your hands, the soft brush of your fingertips against his skin.
His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass.
He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle, leaning down to kiss you firmly. “Tell me if it’s too much.” He said calmly.
“No, don’t do it” you told him, head turning as the finger went in deeper.
Leaning down closer Mike kissed you softly, distracting you with that before adding in another finger. “I got you. Just hold onto me.”
Working the two fingers in deeper Mike watched for any reaction, kissing your lips over and over when you squeezed his shoulders.
Suddenly you let out a strangled cry of pleasure, hips bucking upward to press the two fingers in deeper. That was the spot you wanted. He massaged that little area over and over, biting little marks along your shoulders and upper chest.
After the third finger you were begging for more, digging your nails into Mike shoulders and moaning against his lips.
With trembling hands, you reached down, feeling the heat of his arousal through the fabric that still separated you. The anticipation was a slow burn, an exquisite torture
as you took your time, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.
And then, with deliberate slowness, you freed him, your hands sure and steady as you positioned yourself over him.
His gaze never left yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you slowly sank down onto him, the feeling so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, was almost too much, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but you craved it, needed it.
A low groan rumbled from deep within his chest as he watched you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made your heart race. "God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice strained, as though he was holding on to his control by the thinnest of threads.
You began to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that had both of you gasping, the friction between your bodies igniting a fire that consumed you both.
Mike's hands roamed your body, caressing, gripping, guiding you as you moved together, the sounds of your pleasure mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the muffled rustle of sheets.
He couldn't keep his eyes off you, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your body moved above his, and it was clear that he was completely lost in you.
His control slipped as the pleasure built between you, his thrusts meeting yours with a rising urgency, and you could feel the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.
The realization that you were doing this to him, that you had the power to bring him to the brink, fueled your own arousal, driving you to move faster, harder.
His thrusts and your bounces becomes sloppier and sloppier, your body fidgeting, twitching, shaking all around, especially around your bottom area. Another set of moans, whimpers and grunts escapes both of your lips, no sign of stopping whatsoever from the immense pleasure you two are receiving from each other.
You place both of your hands in his chest, positioning yourself better to let his cock fuck you harder and vigorously.
When Mike's release finally hit, it was with a guttural cry of your name, his head tipping back against the wall as his body shuddered beneath you. The intensity of his climax triggered your own, and you collapsed against him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you and and fluids fill your body, some of it dripping out of you.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, hearts pounding in sync as you came down from the high. Mike's hands, which had been gripping you so tightly, softened their hold, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.
"You”, he whispered, his voice rough and breathless, "you're everything I've ever needed” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
You grinned, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "You'd probably have to find another boyfriend to fight off your evil relatives."
Mike let out a mock groan, rolling his eyes playfully. "Please, don't even joke about that. You're one of a kind. And besides, I'm not sure I could handle someone else. They might not be as good at shutting her up."
You both shared a laugh at that, the sound echoing through the quiet room, lightening the atmosphere. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of joy and levity after everything you had both been through.
Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.
request: Can you do yandere or normal soldier boy x male reader in current times preferably sfw
warnings: fluffy writing, mentions of sex
yandere!soldier boy who saw you at a bar a little while after waking from his coma and instantly he was smitten by your handsome looks.
yandere!soldier boy who then approached you and tried to chat his way up with you but with the talking and flirting skills of the 1980's he didn't really stand a chance.
yandere!soldier boy who was surprised when you took him back to your place after only an hour of talking to each other (maybe it was because you were drunk).
yandere!soldier boy who ended up having an eye opening sexual experience with you, i mean he had an eye for guys but he never persuaded that but with being in a coma for 40 years he needed someone now.
yandere!soldier boy who after a couple more late night calls decides to confess his feelings and you both start dating.
yandere!soldier boy who if he sees another man even gaze at you will feel the fury of a thousand bulls, feeling like he could kill them the and there.
yandere!soldier boy who only calms down when you approach him with sweet words and gentle touches, that of which he never got from anyone else.
yandere!soldier boy who would legitimately kill for you if anyone dared touch you in a harming way and you knew he would.
yandere!soldier boy who loves your soft touches and kisses, sometimes he'd come sit his head on your lap just so you can run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp.
yandere!soldier boy who you once found sleeping in you bed when you were out working and when you asked him he said he just wanted to feel you but you were gone.
yandere!soldier boy who fully wraps you in his strong arms when you guys sleep together from the fear that you might abandon him in the middle of the night although you've told him numerous time you never would.
yandere!soldier boy who took a while to open up to you about his true super life but that never wavered your love for him (if anything it made you want him more).
Summary: Many weeks have passed since your relationship with Mike began. Every chance you got, every break from studying, you spent with the Schmidt siblings, especially on weekends. Today, in particular, the three of you spent the whole day together, which ended with Abby falling asleep in the middle of a board game she insisted on playing despite the late hour. In the process of cleaning everything up, you and Mike start asking each other some questions to get to know each other better. The situation escalated from there.
Warnings: Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Mike can speak Spanish, translation to everything at the end (y’all, every time I watch that video on YouTube of Josh answering the web’s most searched question about him and he starts speaking in Spanish... 🥵) Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Table sex. Reader being called “good boy”. Handjob (M receiving). Rimming (R receiving). Anal sex.
Words count: 4500
Part 1-Part 3-Part 4
Can also be found on wattpad and ao3
The weekend had arrived, bringing with it a much-needed break from college lectures and a chance to spend time with Mike Schmidt and his younger sister, Abby. The three of you had spent the day immersed in simple pleasures: watching Abby's favorite movies, preparing meals together, and even an impromptu dance party in the living room, which left Abby giggling uncontrollably.
As night fell, Abby suggested playing a board game. It was a game designed for children, colorful and straightforward, but its appeal lay more in Abby's enthusiasm than in the gameplay itself.
Mike sat back on the couch, his eyes softening as he watched you and Abby playfully argue over the rules of the board game she insisted on playing. His feelings for you had grown quickly over the past few weeks, and he often found himself marveling at how easily you fit into his life. It was a feeling that both comforted and surprised him-this natural blending of your world with his.
Mike's gaze lingered on you, noticing how you engaged with Abb, your smile genuine and warm, It was moments like these that made him realize just how much you meant to him. The thought of spending nights like this more often, with you by his side, filled him with a profound sense of happiness.
Abby seemed to relish the sight of you and Mike together, often teasing you both with exaggerated gestures of affection.
Whenever you leaned in to kiss Mike or wrap an arm around him, Abby would dramatically roil her eyes, feigning disgust in a way that only a precocious child could. "Ew, you guys are so gross" she'd declare, her face scrunched up, though the playful twinkle in her eye gave her away.
Mike enjoyed playing along with Abby's antics.
He would sometimes pause mid-kiss, turning to her with mock seriousness, "You're just jealous because he can’t resist my charm."
Abby would respond with an exaggerated gag, making you both laugh. "Ugh, please, spare me!" she'd cry, pretending to shield her eyes.
Abby's competitive spirit shone through as she took an early lead, her laughter infectious as she watched the two of you struggle to catch up.
Despite the game's child-like simplicity, you and Mike indulged her, enjoying the shared moments of joy and the occasional eye roll when she pulled off a particularly clever move.
Eventually, the day's excitement took its toll on Abby, and she gradually succumbed to sleep, leaning against Mike's side. Her soft snores were a testament to the fun filled day, and you couldn't help but smile at the scene.
He gently shifted her into his arms, carefully carrying her to her bedroom. The sight of Mike's gentle care warmed your heart, showcasing a side of him that made you admire him even more.
Once Abby was safely tucked into bed, Mike returned to the living room, with a soft sigh, he bent down and kissed you, his lips brushing against yours with affectionate warmth.
"She's out like a light," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
With the game almost cleared away, you caught the hint of reluctance in his demeanor, as if he was fighting the urge to suggest calling it a night. He wanted to savor this rare moment of togetherness, not wanting to seem like the boring type who couldn't keep up.
"Hey," you started, your voice light as you gathered some puzzle pieces into a box, "how about we play a little game while we clean up?"
Mike looked at you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "A game? Haven't we had enough of those for one night?" he asked, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of fatigue.
He had been running on the relentless schedule of work and caring for Abby, and the idea of simply wrapping you in his arms and falling asleep was incredibly appealing.
You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued tidying up. "Not that kind of game. I was thinking more of a question game—just you and me. We ask each other questions to get to know each other better. Nothing too serious, just...fun."
Mike hesitated, his instinctive walls coming up. You could see the reluctance in his eyes. He wasn't one to open up easily, even to someone he was dating. The thought of revealing too much too soon probably made him uneasy. But he also didn't want to seem boring or unwilling to engage with you, especially after the perfect day you had spent together. He sighed softly, then gave a small nod, agreeing to your proposal.
"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but warm, "but you go first."
You grinned, pleased that he was willing to play along. You folded up a blanket that had been tossed over the couch.
He sat on the couch and leaned back, stretching his arms with a yawn before picking up some toys scattered there that Abby has hidden in the morning.
“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?"
Mike paused, thinking it over as he picked up the scattered game pieces from the floor. He was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know," he finally admitted, "I've never really thought about it. I guess.. maybe somewhere quiet. A place where Abby could be happy, where she could run around safely and just be a kid without any worries. Maybe a small town by the coast. She loves the water
You smiled at his answer, not surprised that even his hypothetical dreams were centered around Abby's happiness. "That sounds nice," you said softly, picturing the scene in your mind.
"My turn," Mike said, turning to you as he finished stacking the board games. "What about you? What's something you've always wanted to do but never had the chance to"
The question caught you off guard. You hadn't expected Mike to be so direct, but it was a good kind of surprise. You thought about it for a moment before answering. "I've always wanted to go on a road trip across the country," you admitted. "Just pack up and drive, see where the road takes me. No plans, no schedules, just freedom"
Mike nodded, seeming to understand the appeal. "Your turn, champ," he said, getting comfortable on the couch while he handed you this bag where all of Abby’s toys were.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay alert with a tired smile.
Mike’s head was resting on one of his hands, his eyes half-closed in a relaxed state as he waited for your question.
To break the tension, or perhaps to prolong it, you quickly thought of another question to ask.
"Say something to me in Spanish."
Mike blinked, clearly surprised by the request. You had heard him mumbling to himself in Spanish once before, early one morning when he thought he was alone in the kitchen. You hadn't understood what he had said, but the sound of the language rolling off his tongue had been intoxicating. You had been craving to hear him speak in Spanish again ever since.
Mike raised an eyebrow at your request, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. A small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
Your cheeks were already flushing with anticipation.
He studied you for a moment, clearly amused by your request. Without further hesitation, he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he spoke in fluid, flawless Spanish.
"Eres un chico hermoso y perfecto," he said, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips
The way he said it, with such ease and confidence, sent a shiver down your spine. There was something undeniably hot about hearing him speak in a language you didn't fully understand, the foreign syllables carrying an air of mystery and allure.
"What... what did you just say?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Mike rubbed his eyes, clearly tired but still amused by your curiosity.
“It’s a secret,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll whisper it to you again...sometime.”
Grinning, you gave a nod and smoothly took the bag from his hands. With a swift motion, you began collecting the scattered toys and papers, turning the cleanup into a playful dance.
You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he pondered a question to satisfy his curiosity. A slow smile crept across his face, transforming into a sly grin. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Before we got together, what’s one dirty thought you had about me?”
A rush of heat surged to your cheeks, and you instinctively placed your head on the table, shoulders shaking with a mix of laughter and embarrassment while you held tightly the bag. "Why did I invent these rules?" you groaned, half in regret and half in amusement.
Mike chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. His eyes went to esaminate the rest of the room, satisfied in seeing that there was almost nothing left. "Come on, you can't back out now. Rules are rules."
Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head, your cheeks still burning. "Fine," you said, your voice tinged with shyness. "There was this one time... you were fixing something around the house in a tank top. I don’t really remember what you were fixing, I wasn’t paying attention to that, you know? I was just watching you, and I couldn’t stop thinking about— hmph..." You paused, your voice trailing off as you hesitated.
Mike leaned in, clearly eager to hear more. "Thinking what?" he prompted, his tone encouraging.
You laughed nervously, finally relenting. "i kept making scenarios in my head of you pulling me close and kissing me. And more..."
The tension between you was almost palpable, a charged current that seemed to pulse through the room.
“For the record, I knew you were staring." He whispered softly at you before turning his back at you to pick up some shredded paper from the ground
You smiled softly at him, happy to know that the attraction you felt for him was mutual.
This game you started will end soon.
After moving around to pick up toys and scattered pieces of paper, you started to feel the heat creeping up your neck. You had been so focused on the game and the conversation that you hadn't noticed how warm it had gotten. Tentatively, and feeling a little self-conscious, you decided to take off your shirt to cool down.
You hesitated for a moment before you slowly pulled off your shirt, revealing your bare chest. You felt a little shy, your skin tingling with a mix of nerves and excitement as the cool air hit your exposed skin.
When you finally looked up, you saw Mike staring at you in awe, his gaze fixed on your chest. There was something almost reverent in the way he looked at you, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you suddenly felt very self-aware.
He caught your eye and winked, a gesture that sent your heart racing. In a fit of playful defiance, you grabbed your shirt and threw it at him, your cheeks burning under his gaze.
Mike raised an arm to shield himself from the attack, laughing quietly as the shirt hit him squarely in the chest. His grin widened, clearly amused by your reaction. "Hey, no fair! Can't blame a guy for appreciating the view.” He protested, but the grin on his face told you he was anything but annoyed.
You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, feeling both shy and bold at the same time.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, the room was clean, and there was nothing left to distract you from the simmering tension between you. You turned to Mike, a sudden idea popping into your mind-a bold request that you weren't sure you had the courage to voice, but the thought of his hands on you was too tempting to resist.
"Hey," you began, your voice a little hesitant, "how about a reward for all that cleaning?"
Mike looked at you, intrigued. "What kind of reward are we talking about?" he asked as he leaned in slightly.
You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you worked up the nerve to ask. "A massage," you finally said, your voice almost a whisper. "On my back. I could use one after all that moving around."
He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Sure," he agreed, his voice low and velvety. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he asked, "Where would it be more comfortable for you?"
Without overthinking it, you moved closer to him and, in a swift motion, settled yourself onto his lap, your back facing him. He let out a surprised huff, followed by a low grunt as he adjusted to your weight.
"Easy there," he murmured, clearly taken off guard by your boldness. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on your hips. "You're getting a little too good at this teasing thing."
"Everything okay, old man?" you teased, laughter bubbling up inside you.
"You're lucky I like you," he shot back, grinning as his hands settled on your back.
Settling into Mike's lap, you felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a warmth that spread from your cheeks down to your toes.
You could sense Mike adjusting slightly, finding the right balance to support you as his hands settled onto your shoulders. The touch was gentle at first, exploratory, as if he was reacquainting himself with every curve and line of your back. His fingers pressed into the muscles at the base of your neck, drawing out a sigh from you that was part relief, part pleasure.
"You've got a lot of tension here," Mike murmured, his voice low and intimate, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I blame you for that," you teased, your own voice barely above a whisper.
His hands moved with practiced ease, kneading the knots and tightness with a care that was both soothing and intoxicating. Each stroke of his fingers felt deliberate, a careful balance between pressure and gentleness that sent warmth spreading through your body. You couldn't help but lean back slightly, closer against him, feeling the heat of his body seep into yours.
"Comfortable?" Mike asked, his breath warm against your ear.
"Very," you replied, the word coming out more like a contented sigh. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, the gesture both an invitation and an acknowledgment of trust.
His hands traveled lower, fingers tracing the contours of your spine with a touch that was both firm and featherlight. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips.
Mike's fingers splayed across your lower back, his thumbs working in tandem to soothe the tension from the long day. You could feel the strength in his hands, the surety of his touch, and it made you acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies.
"You're really good at this," you murmured, the words slipping out between soft sighs of pleasure.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I used to give Abby back rubs when she couldn't sleep.” he replied, his voice a deep rumble that resonated in your chest.
You couldn't help but shift slightly, pressing back against him, the motion eliciting a low hum of approval from him that sent your heart racing.
"You're making this very difficult for me to concentrate."
You smiled, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Who said I wanted you to concentrate?"
He laughed softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a favorite blanket, comforting and familiar.
You could feel your heart beating a little faster, your breath coming a little shorter, as if every cell in your body was attuned to the anticipation building between you.
Mike shifted beneath you, adjusting his position slightly, and the movement brought you even closer together, your bodies aligning in a way that was both natural and exhilarating.
You felt a surge of courage that prompted you to turn slightly, shifting so that you could see his face more clearly.
Mike met your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion that mirrored your own. There was a moment of silence before he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was filled with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.
His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them apart, and when you opened up to him, the kiss deepened into something raw and primal.
But it was the way he moaned against your mouth that sent a thrill of electricity coursing through your veins, the sound low and rough, vibrating through your very core. The moan was muffled, almost swallowed by the intensity of the kiss, but it resonated in the pit of your stomach, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward.
And then he rotated your head slightly, his hand gripping your chin as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled with the effort to maintain control, and it was intoxicating, the knowledge that he was holding back for you.
His hands slid down to your waist, and he pulled you even closer, your chest flush against his as he guided your movements with ease. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you.
He broke the kiss only to whisper against your lips, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "My good boy," he breathed, his words a caress that resonated deep within you, leaving you yearning for more.
Mike's own breath was unsteady, mingling with yours in a symphony of shared pleasure.
As he pulled back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, he whispered with a husky tenderness that made your heart flutter, "Such a good boy for me.”
His mouth found its way to your neck, pressing kisses.
"Mike...”. you whispered, your voice a breathy plea, filled with a need that you couldn't quite put into words. "Speak to me... in Spanish... please."
The request hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you wondered if he would oblige. But then, his lips were at your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he began to speak, the words flowing from his mouth in a rich, rolling cadence that made your heart skip a beat.
"Eres mi chico bueno," he whispered, his voice rough and filled with a intensity that made your knees weak. "Mi precioso, el más hermoso que he visto. Eres mío."
You didn't need to understand every word to know what he was saying, the intent was clear in the way his voice caressed each syllable, his tone heavy with adoration.
His hand slid up your back, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he bent down to press a kiss to your shoulder, the gesture so tender, so filled with reverence that it made your chest tighten with emotion. You could feel the way his body trembled against yours, the effort to maintain control evident in every movement, every breath.
But it was the way he continued to speak, his voice low and breathy, that sent shivers down your spine, the words a mixture of praise and profanity that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.
"Me vuelves loco," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "No puedo... resistirme a ti. Eres tan perfecto, tan malditamente perfecto."
"Mi chico perfecto," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss was tender, filled with a depth of feeling that made your chest tighten with emotion, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace.
His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a possessive hunger that made your knees weak.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and you found yourself drowning in the sensation, your body pressing against his in a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel more of him.
"Eres mío," he murmured, his words a promise, a vow that resonated deep within you. "Solo mío."
The declaration sent a thrill of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound quickly muffled by his kiss. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to merge your bodies into one, to erase the space that dared to separate you.
And as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, pressing kisses and bites along the sensitive skin there, you felt the world around you fade away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a moment of pure, unbridled passion.
Mike shifted, rising from the chair with you in his arms and he carried you to the table with a grace that left you breathless.
The cool surface met your skin as he bent you over the table, a contrast that heightened the warmth of his body pressing against you. His hands roamed with a newfound urgency.
His lips followed the path his hands had charted, pressing kisses that were both gentle and insistent.
You couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips, a sound of pure pleasure that echoed in the quiet room. Mike responded with a deep, resonant grunt, a primal sound that spoke of his own rising desire.
"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a playful reprimand. But his own breath was ragged.
Mike's hands found yours, interlocking your fingers as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back in a gesture that spoke of unity and devotion. His breath was warm against your ear, his whispered words a balm that soothed and ignited in equal measure.
His hand finds the front of your sweats, breaking your train of thought, and he smiles when you gasp softly.
"You're hard."
"Have been for a while," is all you say, face hot.
He just nods before kissing you again, hand rubbing against your bulge with his other one still on your rear.
His hands make haste with the strings of your sweatpants, loosening it just enough to reach in and grab your hard cock, releasing it from the confines of the fabric with a satisfied look. He rubs you softly, thumb placing just beneath the head, soaking in your noises.
He wraps his hand around you firmly now, stroking you slowly as he kisses you deep. It’s rather unfortunate that he must silence your pretty sounds but the vibration of your moans against his mouth makes up for the loss.
Mike was always this way - the pleasurer, rather than the pleased. Trust that he was always happily pleased with his time with you, with your reactions and moans, asking for more, but in general, he just wasn't the type to seek out his own gratification before giving you yours. Part of it riled you up inside, part of it made your heart yearn for him all the more.
He strokes you and you curl into him. It’s as though his fingers are laced with poison. And yet, his lips somehow carry the antidote.
Mike positioned himself in between your thighs, cock of his own throbbing through his jeans. The sight alone has you begging whatever gods may be for some kind of release, not that you’d ever repent for your sinful thoughts when it came to this man. Even if it meant going to something resembling Heaven. You’ve already experienced such a reality and he was right in front of you, rubbing his hardening self against you with no remorse or embarrassment.
Your hands reach down to finally feel him, the way he twitches against your touch, the way he groans just above you.
His hips buck up just slightly, seeking friction, and you chuckle before giving it to him. You buckle his belt and take him out of his jeans and boxers and revel at the sight.
He reaches down to help you. His mouth found yours again as his hands wrap around the both of you, rutting his leaking cock against yours, fucking into his palm.
You follow suit, hips rolling forward as you chase your high. He smirks against your lips before pulling away to look at you, "Eres tan jodidamente hermoso así."
You whine at the praise, face heating up even more - you didn't know that was even possible.
"I, I want-" You struggle to find the words, too lost in the pleasure of his dick against yours.
Mike kisses you again, understanding you regardless, and chuckles as he lets go of the both of you to help you shimmy off your pants completely.
His fingers find again the curves of your ass and he grins widely, groaning at the sight. The flat surface of his tongue laps up your hole, sopping up the area to make it easier for his thumb. He pushes the digit into your enclosure, slow yet eager.
"Mike," you sigh, eyes shut as you focus desperately on his touch.
Your hands clenched into fists on the cold table.
His tongue finally - thankfully - pushes past the precipice, your hips rising at the feeling. Already, your dick twitches in ecstasy, wanting more, wanting release. You can feel the way his facial hair curls upwards against you.
He spits once at your hole as he pulls away, his chin slick from his preparations. Two fingers pass easily through and leave you to crumble beneath him, scissoring them apart to make room for one more, rolling your head against the table, thrashing about as if you were being tortured.
He positions himself at your entrance. "Ready?"
You nod with furrowed brows and god, when he pushes the tip slowly past your rim, you swear you could die.
He pushes in steadily, slow but never faltering. He stretches you so well. You groan, a mix of pain and satisfaction flooding your senses. He holds your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the curves to soothe you as he seeks pleasure of his own deep within you.
You feel his dick twitch against your walls. He rolls his hips, aiming for that spot that drives you to madness. The angle allows this easily, your mind going blank as you become solely aware of the feeling of him entering and exiting your hole. He finds his rhythm, keeping his hands on you as he guides himself in and out, loving the way your ass looks as it ripples with every thrust. He moves his hand from your stomach down to your dick, holding it against the skin of his palm, fingers wrapping around you.
He strokes you at a pace mimicking his own movements, and your brain begins to steam, overcome with heat and desire.
"Shit," you grit, finally opening your eyes.
Your hips buck upward and his thumb shifts against your head as a result, sending you over the edge, spilling over his hand and onto your stomach.
Mike groans at the sight of you coming undone beneath him, pace quickening as he longs to join you in your ecstasy before thrusting a final time, moaning low as he spills.
Warmth spreads over you as he keeps himself slotted within. His hand rests on your stomach.
"You good?" He asks with a soft and reassuring cadence, leaning over to kiss your collarbone as his hands rub up and down your sides.
You nod, satisfied. He chuckles softly at your expression, taking it in affectionately.
As you turned to face him, you saw the exhaustion etched on his face, and your heart softened. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep, his eyelids heavy as he tried to keep his gaze focused on you.
"Mike," you whispered, reaching up to gently caress his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "You look like you're about to pass out."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he let out a deep, tired sigh. "I'm so tired," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for the man before you. "Let’s get cleaned up real quickly," you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Mike's eyes opened slightly, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "You're too good to me," he said, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter.
You shook your head, your smile widening as you helped him to his feet. "No, Mike. We're good for each other."
Later on, as you curled up together in bed, Mike's arms wrapped securely around you, his breath warm against your neck, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, with love and trust as foundation.
As Mike drifted off to sleep, his body relaxed against yours, you couldn't help but smile to yourself, feeling utterly content.
Note: I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who read the first part of this. Your support and kind words mean the world to me and have truly inspired me to continue writing.
I hope you enjoy this second part just as much as the first. Your feedback and encouragement are incredibly motivating, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this continuation of the story.
Thank you once again for all the love and support!
Translation for all the words in Spanish (done with the help of my brother so blame him for any errors)
-"Eres un chico hermoso y perfecto"= "You are a beautiful and perfect boy"
-"Eres mi chico bueno" = "You're my good boy"
-"Mi precioso, el más hermoso que he visto. Eres mío." = "My precious, the most beautiful I've ever seen. You're mine."
-"Me vuelves loco" = "You drive me crazy"
-"No puedo... resistirme a ti. Eres tan perfecto, tan malditamente perfecto." = "I can't... resist you. You are so perfect, so damn perfect."
-"Mi chico perfecto" = "My perfect boy"
-"Eres mío" = "You're mine"
-"Solo mío" = "Only mine"
-"Eres tan jodidamente hermoso así." = “You're so fucking handsome like that."
Summary: Life as a college student was hectic. You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him. You admired the way he balanced his responsibilities, especially his care for his younger sister, Abby. Over the years, this admiration blossomed into a deep-seated crush that you couldn't quite shake off. Today, you finally got the chance to talk to him again after so much time due to you going to college.
Warnings: Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Strangers/Friends to lovers. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Handjob (M receiving). Anal sex.
Words count: 5000
Part 2- Part 3-Part 4
Can also be found on wattpad and ao3
This is different from the usual gender-neutral stuff I write, and I’m sorry to those who are used to them. I’m just so sad about never being able to find a male reader story, something that I can relate to. Your support and understanding mean a lot to me!
You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him.
Over the years, you often saw him in the mornings when he returned from work, his expression weary but softened when he exchanged a word or two with your father.
Those fleeting moments were enough to plant a growing crush in your heart, a mix of admiration and something deeper you couldn't quite name.
One crisp morning, as you grabbed your backpack, ready to head out to college, you ran into him.
Literally.
You were in such a rush that you barely noticed him until you bumped into his solid frame on the sidewalk.
"Whoa, sorry about that," he chuckled, a warm sound that made your heart race. His hazel eyes, always a bit shadowed with fatigue, brightening just a little at the sight of you.
His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin, which somehow made him even more attractive.
The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, a reaction you were becoming increasingly familiar with but were still not quite used to.
You felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by your clumsiness but secretly thrilled to be talking to him. "You're in a hurry, aren't you?"
His voice was deep and warm, like a comforting blanket after a long day.
You laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, running late as usual. What about you? Just getting back from work?"
"Yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his neck in a way you found endearing. His movements were tired yet graceful, revealing the strain of long nights but also a quiet resilience you admired. "Long night, But hey, it's good to finally bump into you —literally."
"You're looking... good." You regretted your choice of words almost immediately, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.
Mike chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting, as if he was genuinely pleased by your compliment. "Thanks. You look great too. College must be treating you well."
"Thanks," you murmured, trying to hide your blush and not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of him.
"The usual chaos. It's busy, but I'm hanging in there. I guess I'm learning a lot, though some days it feels more like I'm just trying to survive."
He chuckled, nodding knowingly. "Sounds about right. I remember those days, even if they were a bit short-lived for me. Dropping out to take care of Abby was the right choice, but sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to finish."
The way he spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and acceptance, made your heart ache. You admired him for the sacrifices he made. "You did what you had to do. Abby's lucky to have you looking out for her."
You stood there, both hesitant yet unwilling to end the conversation. It had been a while since you'd last talked. Life, college, and his busy schedule made these interactions rare. But when they happened, they were the highlight of your week. There was a warmth to his presence, a comforting steadiness that contrasted with the chaos of your daily life.
"So, how's Abby doing?" you asked, shifting the weight of your backpack on your shoulder. You knew how much she meant to him and how hard he fought to keep her happy and safe.
"She's great," Mike said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. His eyes softened, a hint of pride and affection in them. "Growing up way too fast, though. She actually asked about you the other day.
The idea that Abby remembered you, even though you'd only met a few times, warmed your heart. You tried to picture her as you remembered-a bright, inquisitive little girl who could light up a room with her laughter. "That's sweet. I should stop by more often."
"Yeah, you should," he replied, a glint in his beautiful hazel eyes that made your heart skip a beat. There was something earnest in his tone, something that suggested he wouldn't mind having you around more often. "She misses having someone around who doesn't mind her endless questions."
"I don't mind at all," you said quickly, realizing how eager you sounded. "In fact, I like talking to her. She's a really smart kid."
"She is," Mike agreed, his expression softening further.
"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. "How are things going with... you know, the custody stuff?"
A shadow crossed his face, and you regretted bringing it up. You watched as his shoulders tensed slightly, and the easy smile slipped a notch.
"It's... it's been tough. My aunt's not making it any easier," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. There was a pause, a moment of shared understanding of the challenges he faced. You admired his strength, how he continued to push forward despite everything.
Your temper flared at the thought of the obstacles thrown his way. "That woman is just-" You caught yourself, but not before an unsavory word slipped out.
You covered your mouth, horrified, but Mike just laughed, a sound that was more soothing than you'd anticipated.
"You're not wrong," he said, his laughter fading into a soft smile. "But it's nice to know someone's on my side. You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"
The compliment caught you off guard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to brush it off with a smile, but inside, you were glowing. He noticed, of course, but chose to let it slide.
"Well, I just... I hope things work out for you, Mike. You deserve that."
His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his eyes. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you and if he could sense the emotions you tried so hard to keep under wraps.
"Thanks. It means a lot coming from you" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "I need to find a new babysitter for Abby. The last one quit because, well, I can't really afford much right now."
Without thinking, you blurted out, "I could do it!" you offered eagerly, almost too quickly, the words spilling out before you had a chance to reconsider.
The offer hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you worried you'd overstepped.
But you couldn't help it. The thought of spending more time with him, getting to know him and Abby better, was too enticing to pass up.
Mike studied you, his expression softening. His eyes held a mix of surprise and gratitude, and you noticed how his lips curved up slightly at the edges, almost as if he was trying not to show too much emotion. "You'd really do that?"
"Of course," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the hammering of your heart. "I mean, I have some free time, and honestly, my college roommate is loud and annoying. Plus, I'd love to help."
He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. There was a warmth there that seemed to envelop you, drawing you in. "That'd be great. I can't promise much in terms of payment, though."
"Don't worry about it," you said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'd be happy to help. It's not about the money. I'd love to help out, really. I've missed seeing you guys around."
Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the rush of making the offer and from the hope that he would accept.
The way he looked at you then, with a mixture of gratitude and something else— something hopeful—made you believe this was the start of something more.
You felt your heart flutter, a thrilling sensation that made you wonder if maybe he felt something too. "You're really something," he said softly, almost to himself.
You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as your heart soared. "Just trying to do what I can."
"Well, thanks. Really," he said, his voice earnest. "It's nice to see you again after so long.
You nodded, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. "Yeah, it's good to see you to, Mike."
As you both parted ways, you couldn't help but glance back over your shoulder Mike was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he waved. You waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement.
This new arrangement was more than just a job; it was a chance to see him, to learn more about the man who had quietly captured your heart. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something that could change both your lives for the better.
As you walked away, your mind replayed the conversation. You noticed how Mike seemed to pay close attention to your words, how he listened intently as if every word mattered. It was a rare quality, one that made you feel truly seen and heard. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of his smiles and laughter, if perhaps he harbored feelings that mirrored your own
Mike's presence lingered with you throughout the day, the memory of his rare smile and warm gaze etched into your thoughts. You found yourself imagining the moments you would share while babysitting Abby, the possibility of spending more time with Mike, getting to know him on a deeper level.
As you reached campus with a heart full of excitement and a mind brimming with thoughts of Mike, you headed into the day, eager for what the future might hold.
The first day of babysitting Abby was a mix of nerves and excitement. As you approached Mike's modest home, a cozy littie house with a well-kept garden, you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation and a bit of anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that Abby would like you as much as you liked her brother.
Abby greeted you at the door, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of shyness. She was a bright, energetic girl with dark hair and a mischievous grin that reminded you so much of Mike. Her presence was immediately infectious, and you felt any lingering anxiety melt away.
"Hi, Abby! I'm here to hang out with you while your brother's at work. How does that sound?" you asked, bending down to her level, hoping to convey friendliness and approachability.
She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as if she had been eagerly anticipating your arrival. "Okay! Can we play with my toys?" Her excitement was palpable, and it was impossible not to be drawn into her world.
"Of course," you replied, smiling as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside with a surprising amount of strength for such a small person. You were grateful for her enthusiasm, feeling your own spirits lift at the prospect of spending the day with her.
The hours flew by as you played games, read stories, and even painted together. Abby had a vivid imagination, and you found it easy to connect with her. She was talkative, often sharing stories about her day and asking about yours.
Her innocence and curiosity were refreshing, a welcome escape from the complexities of adult life.
"Do you like my brother?" Abby asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity as you helped her with her coloring book. Her question caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.
"I think your brother is a really great person," you said carefully, hoping to dodge the deeper implications of her question. You didn't want to make things awkward or too serious.
She giggled, a knowing look in her eyes that made you wonder just how much she picked up on. "He likes you too. He talks about you sometimes" Her words sent a jolt through you, a mix of excitement and hope that you struggled to keep under control.
Your heart skipped a beat at her words.
Unbeknownst to you, Mike had returned home earlier than expected. He needed to grab some pills he'd forgotten and thought he'd quickly check in on how things were going. As he stepped inside, he heard the sound of Abby's laughter echoing through the house, drawing him toward the living room.
Peeking inside, Mike found you and Abby sprawled on the floor, surrounded by crayons and papers.
Abby was in the middle of telling a story, using her drawings as illustrations, her eyes alight with creativity. You listened intently, encouraging her with nods and comments, clearly engrossed in her imaginative tale.
For a moment, Mike simply stood there, watching the scene unfold before him. His heart swelled with warmth and admiration as he saw the joy on Abby's face, the ease with which you interacted with her. It was a sight he hadn't realized he longed to see, and it stirred something deep within him.
Seeing you there, so effortlessly connecting with Abby, made him fall even more in love with you. It wasn't just your kindness or the way you made Abby laugh, it was the way you seemed to understand her, to know exactly how to make her feel valued and cherished.
Mike cleared his throat, stepping into the room. "Looks like you two are having fun."
You looked up, surprised but pleased to see him. "Hey, Mike. We're just finishing up Abby's latest masterpiece."
Abby beamed at her brother, waving her drawing triumphantly. "Look what we made!”
He approached, crouching beside you to examine the masterpiece. "I love it.”
Abby beamed, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at her joy. "We make a good duo," you agreed, catching Mike's eye. There was something in his gaze, a warmth and appreciation that made your heart flutter.
"Thanks for today," Mike said, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "It means a lot to see her so happy"
"It was my pleasure," you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. "She's a wonderful kid."
As the days turned into weeks, your bond with both Abby and Mike deepened. You found yourself looking forward to each visit, eager to spend time with Abby and, more secretly, to see Mike. He was kind, patient, and had a dry sense of humor that often caught you off guard and made you laugh until your sides hurt.
Abby quickly became a friend, often sharing her thoughts and ideas with you. "Do you want to see my drawing?" she'd ask, holding up a colorful sketch that she'd made with all the innocence and creativity of a child.
"Wow, Abby, that's amazing!" you'd respond, genuinely impressed by her creativity. "You've got a real talent." Her pride in her work was infectious, and you felt a deep sense of fulfillment knowing you were making a positive impact in her life, fostering her confidence and creativity.
Meanwhile, your interactions with Mike grew more frequent and meaningful. Sometimes, after Abby had gone to bed, you and Mike would sit in the living room, sharing a beer or a cup of tea, discussing everything from music to movies to life's challenges. These moments became the highlight of your day, a chance to unwind and connect on a deeper level.
One evening, as you settled onto the couch after a long day, Mike handed you a steaming mug of tea, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too. Your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.
"You're really easy to talk to," Mike said, his voice sincere, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. "I don't get that a lot." His admission made your heart swell, knowing that you were someone he felt comfortable with, someone he valued.
"I feel the same way, Mike," you admitted, feeling a warmth in your chest that was becoming all too familiar. "It's nice having someone who gets me and doesn't think I'm weird for my horror movie obsession."
You wanted him to know that you felt a connection, a shared understanding that was rare and precious.
He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think it's cool. Most people just give me funny looks when I tell them I enjoy those films." His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual understanding.
"Then they're missing out," you said, a smile playing on your lips, enjoying the banter and the ease with which you could share these moments with him.
You found yourself opening up to Mike in ways you hadn't with anyone else, revealing dreams and fears that you usually kept hidden.
There was a trust between you, a sense of safety that encouraged honesty and vulnerability.
"I always wanted to be a writer," you confessed one night, surprised by your own admission. The words felt heavy and significant, a part of yourself that you hadn't shared with many people. "But I don't know if I'm good enough."
Mike looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady and encouraging, as if he could see the potential within you. "I think you'd be great. You have a way with words, and you see things differently. That's a gift." His words filled you with a warmth that lingered long after the evening had ended, a validation that resonated deeply with you.
You often caught yourself daydreaming about him, replaying conversations and imagining what it might be like to tell him how you really felt.
The movie you've found online and that you were currently watching, an old, obscure horror film, played on his TV. The film was terrible, with laughable special effects and wooden acting, but it provided ample opportunity for humor.
You tried to focus on the movie, but you found yourself constantly distracted by Mike. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the sound of his chuckle, and the way he seemed genuinely relaxed in your presence made you feel special and welcomed.
"There's something about these films that just never gets old," Mike said, his eyes still glued to the screen as a particularly ridiculous scene unfolded. "I mean, look at that monster. It looks like it was made from papier-mâché. Did they really think that scene would be scary?" Mike chuckled, shaking his head. His laughter was contagious, a sound that filled the room with warmth and lightened the weight of the day.
"Right?" you replied, though your focus was more on him than the film. You watched the way his smile lingered, the subtle way his body leaned toward you as if drawn by an invisible force.
You were lost in thought, contemplating the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks. Watching him enjoy himself, knowing that you were part of the reason he could unwind, filled you with a sense of pride and affection that was hard to ignore.
"There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice steady but your heart racing. The words were heavy on your tongue, but you knew it was time to speak your truth.
His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He sensed the seriousness of your tone and straightened, giving you his full attention.
"What's on your mind?" His voice was calm and steady, a reassurance that made the confession feel a little less daunting.
You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and pushing past the fear of rejection. "I really like spending time with you, Mike. And not just as a friend. I've felt this way for a while now." The admission hung in the air between you, a truth that couldn't be taken back.
For a moment, Mike looked at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by your confession, His initial surprise was evident, and you could see the conflict playing out in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to struggle to find the right words.
His thoughts were a jumble of emotions and concerns. The age difference between you, Abby, and his financial struggles weighed heavily on him. He didn't want you to feel tied to him, not because he didn't feel anything for you, but because he knew he couldn't give you everything you deserved.
"... I didn't expect this," he finally said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I care about you a lot, but... it's complicated. You're younger than me. I have a lot of responsibilities with Abby and work. There's a lot I can't give you, and I don't want you to feel stuck because of me. You deserve better" His words were hesitant, filled with an internal struggle that made your heart ache for him.
You understood his hesitation, could see the conflict in his eyes, but you also saw the way he looked at you, the warmth and affection that couldn't be hidden. It was enough to give you hope, to make you want to show him that you didn't care about the obstacles, only about him.
Gently, you moved closer to him, closing the space between you. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed frozen, waiting to see what you would do next.
Reaching up, you cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "I just want to be here with you." Your voice was soft but firm, a quiet promise of your intentions.
Then, slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, one that held all the feelings you hadn't been able to put into words. For a moment, Mike seemed surprised, his body tensing at the unexpectedness of it all. But then, he melted into the kiss, his hesitation giving way to something deeper.
His hand found your waist, his fingers tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, closing any remaining distance between you.
The kiss was slow and tender, a shared moment that spoke volumes about what words couldn't convey.
You felt him relax against you, his internal conflicts momentarily forgotten as you both gave in to the feelings you had been harboring for so long.
His other hand reached up to gently cradle your head, deepening the kiss as he finally allowed himself to accept what was between you.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart racing, you looked into his eyes and saw the worry and doubt had been replaced by something softer and more hopeful.
"Well, that was unexpected," Mike said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was a gentle rumble, carrying a hint of wonder and disbelief.
"In a good way, I hope?" you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.
"In a very good way," he assured you, his lips curving into a smile that sent a flutter of joy through you.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed close, unwilling to let the moment end.
"Me too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "l'm still scared about what this means, but I know I don't want to lose what we have."
You leaned in closer, feeling his breath mingle with yours, and captured his lips in another kiss. This one was softer, more lingering, a gentle exploration of the connection between you. It was a silent affirmation of the feelings you both shared, a testament to the bond that had grown between you over time.
You felt his hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of being so close to him, of sharing in this moment of intimacy and understanding.
A soft sound escaped your lips, a quiet sigh of contentment, and you felt him smile against your mouth. There was a playfulness to his touch now, a sense of joy that mirrored your own.
"Shh," he whispered teasingly, pulling back slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Mike's lips moved against yours with a growing urgency, his own quiet moans mingling with yours. He tried to keep quiet, pressing soft kisses against your lips to muffle your own sounds, though the effort only served to heighten the sensation, a delicious tension that wound tighter with each passing moment.
His efforts to remain quiet were punctuated by low, throaty grunts, each one a reminder of the passion that simmered between you.
The quiet of the room was punctuated by soft gasps and whispered names, a symphony of affection that crescendoed in perfect harmony.
With a gentle tug, he guided you onto his lap, his touch firm yet careful, as if handling something both precious and fragile. The movement was fluid, instinctive, a seamless continuation of the magnetic pull that had drawn you together on the porch. Your knees settled on either side of him, bringing you chest to chest, your faces inches apart. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes, a tangible reminder of the passion simmering just beneath the surface.
His hands found their place on your legs, fingers splayed to support and explore, tracing slow, deliberate paths along the fabric that covered your skin. It was as though he sought to memorize every contour, every curve, feeding the curiosity that had lingered in the recesses of his mind for years wondering how it would feel to finally hold you close.
You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was both tender and insistent, a mingling of breath and heartbeat that spoke of shared longing and mutual surrender. The world outside faded further into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of exploration and affection.
His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring with a curiosity that had been held in check for too long. The sensation was intoxicating, a dance of intimacy that spoke of all the moments he had wondered, all the times he had imagined what it would be like to taste you.
Mike's quiet grunts of pleasure were a symphony to your ears. You could sense the tension in him, the effort it took to maintain control even as his own desires threatened to overwhelm him.
His fingers brushed over your back, tracing the line of your spine, before moving to explore the curve of your waist and the strength of your thighs.
You mirrored his exploration, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, feeling the tension and release of muscle beneath your touch. Your fingers traveled to his neck, threading through his hair, drawing him even closer as the kiss became more fervent. It was a symphony of sensation-a blending of warmth, breath, and the gentle hum of shared affection that enveloped you both.
It was as if time itself had slowed, allowing you to savor each second, each heartbeat, as you became one in a language unspoken yet deeply understood.
His hands were slowly gliding all over your hips and lower back now, and they eventually made their way down to rest on your ass.
He squeezed, causing you to grind down against him and you moaned. You started prepping with kisses on his face, his stumble scratching your lips occasionally. Mike groaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a minute. You began a slow rhythm of rocking your hips against him, his head falling back to rest on the back of the couch.
"Good boy," Mike murmured against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through you. It sent a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling in response to the intimacy of the moment.
Mike's hands, confident yet gentle, found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, a silent question hanging in the air as his fingers brushed against bare skin. You nodded, granting permission. The fabric lifted, sliding over your skin with a whisper, leaving you vulnerable and exposed, yet utterly safe in his embrace.
His touch was electrifying, a gentle exploration of the expanse of your chest, the warmth of his hands grounding and exhilarating all at once.
You leaned up and captured Mike’s lips again in a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth. His hips bucking up into yours as you quickened the movement of your hips against his.
He was trying to pull you even closer against his body to increase the friction between the two of you as much as possible.
He began peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your chest and collarbones. You sighed, and laced your fingers in his hair, relishing in the feeling of his lips all over you.
He began sucking on one of your nipples, moving one of his hands to play with your other, which earned him a suppressed moan from you and caused you to throw your head back. You tugged on his hair, and it only seemed to make him even more enthusiastic with his movements.
He suddenly stood up, moving his arms to hold onto you tightly as you gasped, but landed back onto the couch almost instantly. You were now laying on your back and still looking up at him as Mike reached to pull his gray shirt off.
He was so handsome.
He began undoing his belt and the button to his jeans, pushing them down his legs. He kicked the jeans off and kneeled down, placing a hand on your thigh and looking at you.
“Can I?” he asked. You didn’t waste a second nodding your head, and you watched as he took his time to pull off your jeans and underwear, throwing them onto the floor beside his own discarded clothes.
Mike didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second, wanting to admire the sight of you and he moved so that he was now on top of you. He now had you pinned down against the couch cushion, and you felt your own heartbeat inside your eardrums.
He leaned down to kiss you again, his enthusiasm from earlier returning as he deepened the kiss instantly.
He shifted slightly, reaching over to a small drawer built into the side table next to the couch. You watched curiously as he pulled out a small bottle of lube. The position was a bit awkward, and you couldn't help but give him a puzzled look, wondering why it was there instead of in his room.
Mike caught your expression and stuttered slightly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Uh, well, I keep it here because of Abby. She tends to rummage around my room looking for toys or paper to draw on."
You giggled at the thought, imagining Abby innocently sifting through Mike's things, completely unaware of what she might find. "That makes sense," you said with a smile, amused by his predicament.
He chuckled along with you, the tension in the air dissolving into something more playful and intimate. With a deft motion, he flicked open the cap of the bottle and poured a small amount onto his fingers, his movements careful and deliberate.
You watched, fascinated, as he spread the substance between his fingers, his focus returning to you with a renewed intensity. There was something thrilling about the trust and care in his actions, a silent promise that you were in good hands.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.
You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation and excitement. "Absolutely" you replied, meeting his eyes with unwavering confidence.
His hand slowly trailed from its place at your side, down your hip before moving it to the space between your thighs. You gasped slightly when you felt his touch on your dick, causing fireworks to set off all throughout your body.
You moaned into his mouth now that Mike was touching you exactly where you needed him and he picked up the pace, pumping you as you began to let out soft moans at his touch. He flicks his finger over your tip, which was now leaking profusely.
Your hand returned itself to tangle in his hair while your other made its way to his shoulder to steady yourself.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He questioned, and you could’ve swore he was smirking against your lips.
You whined and nodded slightly. You had very little control over your reactions at this point, and Mike was well aware of this. He quickened his pace once again, and you were beginning to squirm underneath him.
It seemed like he was having a lot of fun at this point, amused by all of the reactions he was dragging out of you. You weren’t sure how this could get any better when he had maneuvered his hand lower, beginning to thrust his middle finger deep into your hole.
Another loud moan, muffled by your own hand, escaped your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation, clenching your thighs together around his hand.
He pulled his head away and began biting your jaw, sucking hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark tomorrow, but you were too focused on his finger moving inside of you to care.
Mike then added his ring finger and you whined loudly, tugging on his hair. He let out a groan, and began fucking you faster, causing you to come into his hand, and onto your stomach.
Your back arching off of the couch and your fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit.
He was only focused on you, and he would do anything to indulge you at the moment. He pulled his fingers out of you after riding out your climax and shifted above you a bit. Your entire body flooded with warmth and you were panting.
Your recovery was cut short by Mike grinding into you, the length of his cock rubbing against you.
A soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips, signaling his turn.
He pulled back to look at you and his expression was questioning, waiting for an answer before going further with anything.
You whimpered out a small please and that was all it took before he was slowly sinking his cock inside of you.
He threw his head back and groaned, his cock twitching inside of you. You whined at the feeling and bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He slowly bottomed out inside of you and kept still, Pausing to admire you, lost in your serene, blissed-out state, like a masterpiece in a moment of pure tranquility before he began thrusting into you.
“You gonna be a good boy for me?” He groaned out, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear.
Your eyes shot open when you heard him, whimpering and quickly nodding your head, you were unable to speak, all you that was coming out of your mouth were the most pathetic whines, whimpers, and pants. Hearing him talk like this made you clench around him, which in turn caused him to slam into you faster.
“All mine, every bit of you,” he declared, his words sending shivers down your spine. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle any more sounds that might escape
You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body bouncing each time he thrusted into you, each time even harder than the last.
You and Mike were drenched in sweat, looking like you just conquered an epic adventure.
Your back was continuously arched off of the couch as he kept railing into you.
Your entire body was tingling with pleasure, and you knew you could get addicted to this feeling.
Mike slamming into you at just the right angle, the feeling of his body moving against yours, and before you knew it, Mike had reached his hand down between your bodies to begin stroking faster and faster, and each time a new sound came from your mouth, devoured from his own mouth.
You were officially done for after that. It was all too much, but it was so, so good.
“Please cum for me, my sweet boy. C’mon.” Mike gritted out, and that was all you had needed to hear.
You clenched around Mike’s cock and you came, your eyes rolling on the back of your head. All you could do while riding out your orgasam was squirm from the overstimulation, Mike still pounding into you as he was chasing his own orgasm.
Feeling the tightness of your body, he couldn't hold back any longer, his own release spurting deep within you.
Mike, who had been resting on top of you, shifted to lie beside you, the couch barely wide enough to accommodate both of you. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, a mirror to your own breaths as you both began to calm in the quiet aftermath
Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the reality of what had just transpired between you and Mike barely beginning to settle in. It felt surreal, like a dream spun from the depths of your imagination, and yet the solid warmth of Mike beside you was a comforting reminder that it had indeed happened.
As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a gentle nudge against your cheek. Mike was nuzzling you, his stubble a rough but comforting texture against your skin. The affectionate gesture pulled you back to the present, grounding you in the moment and dispelling any lingering disbelief.
He turned his head slightly, capturing your lips in a quick, tender kiss that spoke of both contentment and lingering desire. When he pulled back, a hint of shyness flickered in his eyes, an endearing contrast to the confidence he had shown just moments before.
"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet room. "Do you want to sleep in the bed with me? The couch isn't exactly comfortable for the night."
His invitation caught you off guard, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat from earlier. A smile broke across your face, broad and genuine, as you nodded, the simple gesture carrying a weight of unspoken emotion.
"I'd like that," you replied, your voice infused with a joy that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.
Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Next on the list is a Josh Futturman fic from a request on wattpad.
request: top reader and lip gallagher?, I don't know they've been trying for a while to have their first time but they are always interrupted by one of Lip's brothers, Fiona even caught them kissing in their underwear once,Do you like biting and have a big thing for breasts?
warnings: smut, making out, caught
to say it was hard to get laid in the gallagher house would be an understatement it was borderline impossible, from everyone running in and out of the house to you and lip being interrupted every 5 minutes when you were trying to make out and get in the mood.
and it was the first time so you wanted it to be special but you couldn't 'get it on' as carl put when every 30 minutes you had a new brother bursting through the door to get something, it was either ian and mickey pushing through the door making out to or carl coming in to grab something of his own, calling you some joking names before walking out.
once before, you and lip were making out on his bed in nothing but your underwear when the house was quiet and empty, or so you thought because all of a sudden you heard the door open and turned to see a shocked fiona standing there, just as lip got up to explain the sight in front of her "i didn't see anything" she said slamming the door.
it killed the mood instantly and you just ended up making out for the day, but now you were sure you could have a good time, lip called each of his siblings and told them he needed the house to himself and although they were definitely annoyed at the request they agreed to stay out of the house for the day so you two could finally do it.
now nicely layed in lips bed with him over you, him kissing at your neck as you took care of his and yours clothes leaving you both nude, you take in the holy sight of lips beautiful body, cupping his cheeks to meet your eyes with his "don't look at me like that" he says, a hint of red brightening his cheeks as you give him a coy smile.
"like what" you ask kissing him "like you wanna fuck me" lip chuckles "but i do, really really bad" you coo in a sultry tone, you could feel lip get harder "and i know you want me too" you whisper in his ear, tapping your dick against his ass, he looks down at you with eyes you couldn't really decipher, they had want, desperation, lust fullness, happiness, and nervousness all at the same time.
"please" lip lowly says, embarrassed by his own desperateness for your cock as he hides his face in your neck "m'kay then" you smirk at his shyness and kiss his neck before putting some spit on your tip and rubbing against his hole, letting out a little whimper from him "can i go" you ask pulling his ass apart "mhm yeah" he says.
you slowly push into lips hole, earning a moan from his mouth as he holds onto you for comfort and without even realizing you make it all the way in, to enthralled in lips noises that your hips were moving on their own, lip gasps at the feeling of being so full of you, if he was being honest he dreamed of this every night when he was jerking of but he'd never actually tell you that.
"can i move" you ask holding his hips in place, lip nods shakily with labored breaths as you begin stretching him out slowly but surely, and if you had to admit you were strangely close to cumming already, it was like lip was trying to milk you for every drop of cum and you weren't totally against it "are you trying to make me cum faster" you ask choking back a moan "mgh" was all lip manged to let out making you smirk "naughty boy" you mutter.
hearing you call him a naughty boy lip bit down on your neck lightly leaving a mark which you were definitely not going to cover up in the morning, lip presses you down into the bed before finally lifting his head to look at you, without any words he begins fucking himself on your cock, letting out a whine at he feels his good spot get grazed by you tip over and over.
"yeah just like that m'close" you lowly coo caressing his sides and holding onto his hips to keep him going before throwing your head and filling him up, lips eyes widening with how your cock spurts your cum into him "so fucking full" lip whimpers falling onto your chest.
pairing: Eddie Brock/Reader/Venom Symbiote/Agony Symbiote
reader's pronouns are they/them; race and gender are ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used
summary: “You’re….” Eddie chokes out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together.
“Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”
word count: 4.2k | ao3 version
I did some research on the wiki and watched a few clips of the movie, but that’s the extent of my canon knowledge. As such, this won’t be canon compliant.
In this fic, the reader (you) is an experiment of the Life Foundation. Dr. Drake decides to try bonding you with a symbiote. While the union works, it ultimately backfires for him—as you manage to make your escape and go into hiding with the symbiote. Without a symbiote to bond to her, Dr. Skirth ends up living… and once Eddie escapes from the facility, she introduces the two of you.
warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, cannibalism, and human experimentation; vomiting and sickness
There’s someone Dr. Skirth wants Eddie to meet. He hates meeting new people, but he owes Dora a favor, so he agrees to meet up with you in the park under the cover of night. Eddie doesn’t know anything about you, other than the fact that you’re a friend of a friend. According to Dora, you’re also tied to the Life Foundation (how that connection manifests, Eddie isn’t sure). Honestly, Eddie just hopes his meeting with you will be useful. Meanwhile, Venom is, understandably, skeptical about the meeting. They make sure to complain to him several times as he makes his way to the park, and they are only satiated with the promise that they can eat you if you somehow turn out to be a villain.
Unfortunately for Venom, you don’t appear to be a villain. Rather, you’re wearing deceptively casual clothing: a simple sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. Your hands are shoved in your pockets; there are dark circles under your eyes and you’re staring down at the cracks in the pavement as you stand under a flickering streetlight. There are scars marking nearly every visible part of you—stretching up your collarbone, running down your face, laced across your hands. One thing is abundantly clear to Eddie in that moment: Life Foundation has left its mark on you, too.
If you sense him staring, you don’t comment on it. Instead, you just look up and send him a hesitant wave. “Hi,” you say, extending a hand to shake as you introduce yourself. Eddie blinks at you for a moment, before introducing himself in return. After a second, he takes your proffered hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes catch on your cracked knuckles and everything seems to fall into place. It appears you’re far more similar to Eddie than he first thought.
“You’re….” He finds himself choking out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together.
“Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”
Eddie stares at you in disbelief, amazed by your composure. Right now, he feels as if Venom is in complete control. Yet you seem able to switch between your symbiote and your own visage at will. It’s as if the two of you are in complete agreement. “How…?” He trails off.
Half of your face is overtaken with the alien entity. “We are Agony.” A warped voice responds, a blend of your voice and the alien’s. Slowly, the alien—Agony—drips down your face and disappears from sight. You’re staring at him with a patient expression now. “We can help you.” You state matter-of-factly.
Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that offer. He finds himself mechanically proceeding through the rest of the conversation, just barely staying afloat amidst the realization that there may actually be someone willing to help him. A few days ago, Eddie would’ve maintained that he didn’t need help;today, he’s grateful for the offer of assistance that he knows he needs. He has no idea how to navigate this tumultuous new existence he finds himself sharing with the alien creature inside him.
He locks eyes with you, and an unspoken understanding passes between the both of you. There is a visceral fuzzy feeling in Eddie’s chest, as he stares into the eyes of the one person who could ever truly understand his new life. You stare right back at him, evidently having similar thoughts. The two of you are tied together by fate and its cruelties; you have virtually no choice but to lean on one another, lest you both return to your loneliness.
Eddie leaves twenty minutes later with your number in his phone and plans to meet with you the next morning. He’s fairly hopeful about it—from what he could tell, you seem like a genuinely kind person. Worn thin from the trials you’ve been forced into, but kind nonetheless. Eddie tries to puzzle out how you could still have sympathy for a world that has shown you nothing but malice.
“Don’t trust them.” Venom growls, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. He feels the symbiote’s restless energy humming along his skin, creating goosebumps that run down his arms as he walks home.
Whether Venom’s remark is a profession of their suspicion or a warning, Eddie isn’t sure. He sighs. “Let’s give them a chance,” Eddie maintains, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues down the street. “If they somehow turn out to be evil, you can eat them. Okay?”
Venom is silent for a while. “Fine.” They eventually respond, clearly not happy about it. But the renewed promise of food must be too good for them to turn down.
Eddie nods, secretly relieved. Admittedly, he’s pretty optimistic about you: you appear healthy, sane, and most importantly, comfortable in your own body. You don’t appear to be constantly at war with yourself, which is rather similar to how Eddie feels at the current moment.
“War,” Venom remarks. There’s no telling whether they possess the same spectrum of emotions that humans do, yet they’re speaking with clear sarcasm. “Very dramatic, Eddie.” Eddie just rolls his eyes.
The rest of his day passes without much fanfare. He eats a rather bland dinner and falls asleep earlier than normal, if only to quiet his restless thoughts. Before long, it’s the next morning—and he’s freshening up before heading out to the diner you agreed to meet at.
You’re waiting for him in a brightly-colored booth. Eddie walks over to you, muttering a greeting as he takes the seat across from you. You slide a coffee mug over to him, which he drinks gratefully. His curiosity seems to linger in the air around both of you, until you’re relenting and telling Eddie about yourself. He told you about himself when you met last night; now, it’s your turn to tell your story.
What Eddie hears is enough to turn his stomach and effectively rid him of his appetite. Essentially, you were one of the human captives used as experiments by the Life Foundation. You describe a constant state of numbness at war with dread and fear. You explain how you were practically left to rot behind those glass walls, until it came time for you to be the next test subject. You recount how you were exposed to the blue symbiote… and how, upon your successful union, Life Foundation planned to experiment on you further. By the time you’re describing your escape, Eddie is resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand over your shaking one—desperate to provide comfort to the one person who understands what it’s like to have a parasite living inside them.
“Not a parasite,” Venom hisses, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. They sound strangely offended by the remark.
“Right, they don’t like being called that,” you murmur, tapping your fingers rhythmically against the table. Eddie blinks, thrown back into reality. “Symbiote is better.” Agony interjects. You seem entirely unbothered by the interruption.
An awkward silence descends across the space for a moment, before Eddie blurts out the first thought that comes to mind. “I’m hungry,” Eddie frowns. Indeed, his stomach aches with emptiness—despite his knowledge that he ate just before falling asleep the previous night.
“We’re hungry.” Venom corrects him.
You’re looking at him— them, Eddie reminds himself—with amusement. The expression is fleeting. “Right,” you then say, as if you’re just remembering. A grimace rises on your face. “Well. There are two options: chocolate… and human brains.”
Eddie stares at you warily. He didn’t think you were the type to joke about things like this, but it just sounds too far fetched to be real. He must’ve misjudged you, somehow. As if sensing his doubt, you attempt to explain further.
“I know, I was skeptical too,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your face. While your relationship with Agony seems a lot more clearly defined than Eddie and Venom’s, there’s still a lingering exhaustion written in the lines of your face. You take a slow breath. “Their species requires different nutrients than ours: namely, phenethylamine.”
“Human brains are better.” Agony states.
You sigh. “It’s true. Chocolate is really only a temporary fix, because it doesn’t last nearly as long. The two of us have struck up an agreement to only eat bad people, so there’s at least a bit of morality involved...” You break off, clearly sensing Eddie’s impending dread.
There’s no way around eating humans. It takes him several seconds to process this. Eddie doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t want to think about the feeling of human matter stuck between his hooked teeth; doesn’t want to think about waking up in the morning, sweat-soaked and stained with the dried blood of a dead stranger.
“I’m sorry,” you say, your brows furrowed. Eddie hates how sincere you are. And he especially hates how he takes comfort from your reassurance. It shouldn’t mean anything to him—he never cares what people think of him. But the fact that you can not only sympathize with him, but also empathize with him, is rather significant.
“We can do this,” you promise him. Eddie finds himself oddly appreciative of your choice of wording. You chose to say “we,” as if explicitly confirming your support for him. “We’ll help you.” You repeat.
“Okay,” he responds stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything else. The two—four—of you spend the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, the warm sunlight trickles through the windows next to you and breakfast is over. Eddie and you leave the restaurant and stop on the sidewalk outside, turning towards one another.
“I’ll text you,” you promise. “Let me know if you need anything.” Eddie nods quietly. As if sensing how overwhelmed he feels, your expression morphs into one oddly reminiscent of… affection. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Eddie assents and tells you to do the same, at which a smile rises on your lips. Oddly short of breath, Eddie manages to tear his eyes away and utter a goodbye—though your smile remains in his thoughts for the rest of the day.
Eddie begins to make progress, slowly but surely. With your guidance, he learns how to communicate better with Venom; fight with their assistance; and even nourish himself better. None of it seems to be important, in the face of the realization that his life will never return back to normal. But, somehow, the satisfied smile on your face when he accomplishes something is enough for Eddie to keep pushing himself.
Since your first meeting, Venom has warmed up to you a lot more—to the point where they have started speaking to you directly, instead of just speaking to Eddie. Agony has still remained a bit more withdrawn and silent, but their presence is keenly felt regardless.
Eddie still has moments when he feels as if the world is caving in on him—as if the faces of passerby are contorted in disgust and fear (which was an unfortunate reality in the beginning days of his union with Venom). There are nights when he wakes with dried blood flecked across his skin, but he has grown accustomed to washing it off and forgetting it in the morning. You are a constant companion during these moments, and, sometimes, your touch is the only thing that grounds Eddie to the world around him. Safe to say, the two of you have taken to staying at each other’s apartments more often than not.
On a few rare occasions, Eddie is the one to hold you—as you remember confinement behind cold glass walls and calculating eyes watching your every move. Eddie can’t imagine what your captivity and torture at the hands of Life Foundation was like… And he’s certain he doesn’t want to think about it, because it will only make him feel even worse. While you’ve both been bonded with symbiotes, Eddie escaped the cruel experimentation that you were subjected to. He was just visiting to get information for an article; you were bound in chains and thrown behind nearly impenetrable barriers.
Overall, though, things are going well. At least, Eddie wants to think so. But then the universe wants to spite him, and he wakes up one morning feeling as if he was hit by a truck. He’s practically stuck to the cushions of his couch, his limbs as heavy as bricks. His throat is overwhelmingly dry; there’s a bitter taste in his mouth; and, try as he might, he can’t seem to wrench his eyes open.
“Eddie? …Eddie? Shit.”
Eddie wakes to a frigid cold. He shivers instinctually, blinking past a strange sheen over his eyelids. It takes his vision several moments to clarify past a swirling blur. His temple is nearly pulsating with pain; his stomach aches and his skin is coated in sweat. Eddie twitches, recognizing your blurry silhouette and realizing you must’ve dumped cold water on him to wake him up. Even now, as he’s been torn from sleep, he’s struggling to stay awake.
“Eddie?” You ask, sounding very concerned. Eddie isn’t sure he can remember the last time someone was so worried about him. The thought saddens him. Your hands move to his shoulders and you shake him slightly, your brows furrowed. “Can you hear me?” The most Eddie can manage is a weak nod in response.
“Doesn’t… feel right.” Venom adds. This may be the first time Eddie has ever agreed with Venom.
“Eddie’s sick,” you respond to the symbiote.
Eddie isn’t able to register much more of your conversation with Venom—not when his ears are ringing and he feels a familiar prickling nausea at the back of his throat. Eddie slowly pushes himself up. Upon realizing that the feeling is steadily climbing up his throat, he clumsily gets to his feet and stumbles towards the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Eddie can’t quite comprehend what’s happening, other than the burning sensation assaulting his throat and the sudden feel of someone rubbing his back reassuringly. You’re crouching next to him, saying something he can’t make out. Venom responds for him.
At some point, he stops throwing up and attempts to rest his head. You put the toilet seat down and flush it, before allowing him to do so. Eddie feels a foreign gratitude for the kindness you’re showing him, despite the monster living inside him. The cold porcelain is a welcome sensation on his sweat-soaked skin.
“Not a monster,” Venom reminds him. Even his companion’s voice is quieter, as if accommodating the headache migrating through his temple and down into his cheekbones and jaw. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to argue. He blinks slowly, the lights of the bathroom only making his headache worse. He feels rather woozy.
“Here, let’s get you up,” you suggest. Eddie can hardly move, yet your hands bracket his arms and you’re pulling him up as if he weighs nothing at all. (That is likely due to Agony’s help, but he doesn’t exactly have the wherewithal to recognize that). Eddie lurches to the side ominously, but Venom extends a makeshift arm and rights his balance. With Agony, Venom, and you combined, Eddie makes it back to the couch easily. You help him sit down before walking into the kitchen. You return moments later to press a glass of water into his hand.
Eddie gulps it down greedily. Or, at least, he tries to—only for you to reach out and stop him from drinking any more. “Not too fast,” you remark, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the adjacent coffee table. “Wait ten minutes or so, just to make sure you can keep it down.”
Eddie stares at you for a long moment, frowning. He hears himself blurting out his thoughts before he can think any better of it.“Why are you here?” Eddie croaks. He is the complete opposite of presentable at the moment; the last thing he wants is for you of all people to see him looking so pathetic. Eddie isn’t exactly sure why he wants to make such a good impression on you, but… he supposes that doesn’t matter now. He can muse on the exact nature of his feelings towards you at a later date, when he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable in his own skin.
You blink at him for a moment, evidently contemplating the question. “Alone.” Agony responds. Eddie squints at you, watching as the symbiote’s midnight blue mass crawls up your shoulders, as if wrapping an arm around you in reassurance. You don’t even flinch at the sudden presence of your companion. Instead, you take a slow breath and look at Eddie once more. “When it happened to me, I was alone. It was… an isolating experience. I don’t want you to feel the same way.” You explain.
You then reach down, as if to touch him, only for Venom to protrude from Eddie’s shoulder and snap at you. At least, they attempt to—only for Agony to intercept them and snap threateningly in return. Eddie watches the whole scene through hazy eyes, half-convinced that he’s having a fever dream. Eventually, Agony and Venom seem to resolve their dispute and you reach out towards Eddie again, placing your hand on his forehead to check for his temperature. Eddie can’t stop himself from sighing in relief at your cool skin. You only frown, looking more worried. “You’re burning up,” you say to him.
“Hot.” Venom adds, clearly feeling a bit of Eddie’s own discomfort. “Like flames.”
“He has a fever,” you respond, getting to your feet and moving to the kitchen once more. You come back moments later with a towel in hand. Eddie dazedly watches as you approach, folding the towel before placing it on his forehead. He exhales slowly as the cold fabric brings a welcome sensation of frigidity trickling down his temple, fighting off the flames licking at his skin. He’s not sure how long he sits in silence until you’re breaking through it. “Here, it’s been ten minutes. Can you sit up a bit?” You ask.
Eddie lets out a pained whimper, practically sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Venom stretches out of his back and props him up to a sitting position. Thank you, Eddie thinks. Then the symbiote rises to grasp his forearm, guiding him to grip the glass of water and take another sip. Venom and you then help him return to a reclined position.
Eddie’s eyelids are stinging with exhaustion. He’s desperately fighting off sleep—blinking tiredly with extra effort. “It’s okay, you can rest,” you reassure him, noticing his fatigue. “We’ll be here when you wake.”
That comforts him far more than he’d like to admit. Before long, Eddie is slipping into sleep once more.
“Cared for you,” Venom says days later, when Eddie has mostly recovered. They’re sharing a quiet moment in Eddie’s apartment, sitting on the couch and staring at the television on low-volume. “For us.”
Thinking about his sickness last week, Eddie can’t help but feel humiliated and weak. He’s still embarrassed that you saw him in such a state; frustrated that he needed assistance with even the simplest of tasks; and… grateful, despite it all. You stuck with him in the following few days, giving him medication when needed and ensuring he had enough to eat and drink. You were a constant presence, to the point where Eddie found you asleep on the armchair in his living room numerous times. That sight will be forever burned into his brain: the peaceful expression on your face as your chest rose and fell calmly. He had never seen you look so vulnerable before; and even in the midst of his sickness and the ensuing vulnerability he was forced to show, he felt himself wanting to protect you. It was a foolish thought: Eddie knew you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But perhaps it was just the domesticity of it all—the thought of you becoming a permanent fixture in their life.
Venom breaks him from his thoughts with a gentle tap at his wrist. Eddie recalls their prior statement and hums. “They did care for us,” he agrees. Venom crawls down his forearm, stretching to inhabit the space between his fingers in what he assumes to be an imitation of hand-holding. There’s an unsettled energy to the symbiote’s presence. Eddie feels a frown overtake his lips. “What’s wrong?”
“It was too quiet.” Venom’s confession settles in the air around him, inhabiting every nook and cranny of his dimly-lit apartment.
“Sorry,” Eddie eventually murmurs. He’s not sure why he’s apologizing, when the sickness wasn’t under his control. But that tone in Venom’s voice provokes guilt and remorse in him, for reasons he can’t quite elucidate.
“Don’t do it again.” Venom commands.
“I don’t really have control over that,” Eddie huffs, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension that settled over the space. Venom lets out a threatening growling noise and he quickly caves. “Fine, fine. I’ll try.”
“Try.” Venom repeats, equal amounts of wry amusement and frustration in their voice. Eddie just hums in response, grasping the symbiote’s tendrils with renewed vigor. Now that he thinks about it, Venom seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn during his sickness: as if they were afraid of pushing him too far past the brink of his energy.
“Sorry,” Eddie whispers again. Venom tightens their grip on his hand in response, and the two of them sit there for a long time after—hands conjoined and fates lovingly intertwined.
Eddie doesn’t get a chance to thank you until a few days later, when he’s sure his sickness is gone and can safely dismiss the thought of getting you sick. Eddie and Venom meet Agony and you as the sun sets over the horizon, in the same spot where you first met all that time ago.
Standing under the flickering street light in the park once more, Eddie is unspeakably thankful that he took a chance on you. He can’t imagine where he would be now, without your support. The thought dominates his mind, to the point where he finds himself uttering it aloud moments later. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Eddie says.
“You’d be just fine,” you remark with a smile. The way you look at him only adds more fuel to the fire of Eddie’s foolish hopes. When he sees that gleam in your eyes, he can’t help but envision a shared existence: not among two beings, but among four. The thought is misguided and horribly insistent, popping up during the most inopportune of moments.
Eddie sighs. “I’m serious,” he maintains, trying to convey his sincerity. It seems to work, because you pause and look at him with widening eyes. “I- I couldn’t have done this alone. We couldn’t have done this alone.” Eddie corrects himself, when he can sense Venom about to object. The symbiote drags a tendril down his ribs, in an approving movement that makes his heart race.
“I’m happy I met you,” you admit. “Selfishly speaking.” Agony crawls up your skin and pops out of your shoulder; Venom does the same, and the two have a conversation in a chittering language that Eddie and you can’t hope to understand. Meanwhile, Eddie is unable to deny your magnetic presence; he can’t help but gravitate towards you. He takes a step closer—past a socially acceptable distance—and stops, trying to study your expression and ascertain your comfort. Eventually, he surrenders and decides to just speak his thoughts.
“Can I…?” Eddie breaks off, unsure of what he’s asking for at the present moment. His thoughts are quickly cascading into a territory far past platonic companionship, but suppressing them is a lost cause. He’s spent too long denying himself the life he wants. Venom crawls up his chest and stretches across his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Comforted by the reminder of Venom’s presence, Eddie clears his throat and summons the courage to finish his sentence. “Can I kiss you?”
You take a step closer, rendering the distance between the two of you nearly nonexistent. Your hand falls to his forearm and Eddie looks into your eyes, a nervous anticipation running through him as he sees you nod in agreement. “Yes.” You whisper, so quietly that Eddie nearly convinces himself that he imagined it. But before he can second-guess himself, you’re closing the gap between you and kissing him.
You’re standing so close together that the two of you are practically fusing. Eddie’s hands fall to your waist; your hands cradle his jaw. Agony and Venom prickle along their partners’ shoulders, dripping down your chests and mixing together. Distantly, Eddie remembers how lost and alone he felt when Venom first fused with him. He has long grown out of the feeling, and wonders if, perhaps, that sensation was trying to tell him something. Perhaps, this entire time, existence was meant to be shared amongst three others—rather than just one.
These philosophical thoughts quickly fade to the back of his mind, as your fingers trace his jaw and slip down to the nape of his neck. Venom rises to meet your hand, just as Agony trickles down your side and runs along Eddie’s knuckles. One realization immediately takes precedence over everything else running through Eddie’s mind:
He’s never felt so alive.
endnotes: this is definitely the queerest fic I've ever written. and I love it.
Me: I can hardly write kissing scenes with two people.
My writer’s brain, cackling: Hear me out. What about… two people and two symbiotes?
Me: What. The. Fuck.
thanks for reading! <3
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FEATURING : PRINCE DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x CONSORT male reader
An arranged marriage doesn't always go well. Daisuke Yuichi finds himself engaged to a foreign man for the sake of global peace. What he thought was a well-mannered man was a venomous snake once its shed. Just how long will our prince withstand rebellious remarks from our bold reader?
morally grey reader, angry sex, profile
Find out more under the cut!
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
Well that wouldn't be far from the truth. The older man dressed in regal clothing wondered why was that famous quote stamped behind the cover of a children's book.
Mimicking the atmosphere of the early morning, the ambience in the room, corners carved stone, marble-plated floor reflected the owner itself. A young child in a loose white gown sat clad in the man's lap. His black glinting eyes skimming through the words of the book that he barely knew half of the meaning to.
"Now now Daisuke, would you like me to continue last night's story or will we have it back at the start?" The man, who had similar black hair and eyes, even their faces were identical, smiled down at the child who enthusiastically flipped the pages back and forth.
The child, Daisuke Yuichi, looked up to him with a gleam. "Start over please, father!" His gummy smile made his father flutter inside as he kissed the crown of his hair.
"As you wish, my child. Long ago, there was a kingdom, grandeur and divine with its posessions, their territory vast and protected, their people happy and full. And the kingdom had a prince!" The man looked down at his son and whispered. "That's you."
Daisuke grinned, as if he hadn't heard this story for the nth time. "And the prince was kind and handsome, well-loved by his king and well-loved by the subjects."
The story continued to weave through its plot, a young prince and his adventures in the kingdom and Daisuke listened attentively to his father's calming narrative voice. It wasn't until the romance had kicked in that he was excited the most.
"And far, far away...there was a princess." Daisuke squealed, covering his face as he wooed over the 2D drawing of a blonde pink-dressed princess on the page. "The princess, amazed by the prince's brave gesture, fell for the prince as she bestowed her hand."
"The prince took her hand, placing a gentle loving kiss on her ring finger, and they went to both kingdoms. With hope to unite their love and their kingdoms together." The man swiped his son's hair back, caressing his strands softly as he turned the last page.
"The prince and princess married and lived happily ever after!"
Daisuke cheered, reading the last printed page as he leaned back onto his father. "Will I find a princess one day?" The man kissed his son's hair again. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a spouse. A fine young man you'll be and with it, a fine young princess will come to be."
The child turned around in his father's hold, the morning light now bright and lightening up the room.
Daisuke smiled to himself, while hugging his father, his heart full of hope and dream to find love too. Love as pure as a swan's feather and as sweet as a birthday cake. Ever since, he yearned for his fated one to unite with him as long years had come to pass by.
-
The room had changed, furnitures replaced with more mature ones, a large regal couch and a marble coffee table in the middle. A big vanity across his bed with bedside table customised with gold and silver, all gifted and bestowed by his father, the emperor of their kingdom.
Fifteen years had passed and the once child had now grown into a fine young man. Said man was adjusting his white cravat with a pin holding a Tourmaline gem at its center.
"What do I have in store for today?" His voice was rich, deep while showcasing the youth he had but the tone mature and intelligent as a scholar.
"His Majesty requests for your audience for morning tea later in half an hour. Then, a few of the ministers will be present in the West Wing. Your Highness will have a chance to confer while on the way to meet the Council's Representative. Lessons are as normal, horse riding with the instructor in the evening and lastly,"
The royal secretary closed his leather book, adjusting his glasses. Two guards were also stationed in the room, an iron plate on their chests with the kingdom's insignia with a few other maids working about and all of them knew what the secretary was about to say.
"Your Highness' meeting with your betrothed."
Silence followed, some of the staffs peeking to see what expression the man was feigning. Daisuke smiled, satisfied with his cravat. "Thank you, Sir Ivan. I'm off to meet my father then." All of them bowed to their waists, as Daisuke walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the halls.
It wasn't a secret that he was recently engaged with another, a foreigner from another kingdom. Not royal but still of high society.
"I sincerely hope you are faring well with the news. If you wish to find another, then I will engage with Emperor Aurelius to form another treaty-"
"All is fine, father." Daisuke smiled, sipping at the cup of tea with the emperor across him sitting in the lounge furniture. His father, the emperor pursed his lips, his face was showing telltale signs of age but he was still strong as the sovereign of the kingdom. His heart worries for his son.
"I'm sure we'll match well together. Regardless of the circumstances." Daisuke had a polite expression, respecting his father and his choices for their reign.
Two kingdoms, from the North East and the West wanted to align with one another. However, due to conflicting politics and past histories, the easiest way for peace is a hand in marriage.
Similar to the East, there was only one heir to the throne in the West so Daisuke, the prince of the North East had to marry a son of the duke. Daisuke had never met nor heard of the man. It wasn't uncommon for emperors to take in male concubines but it wasn't the norm for them to marry a man either.
Daisuke didn't mind the status, he just hoped that his first marriage would go well, unlike his father's and the previous Empress.
Time passed and after congratulations from politicians and acquaintances alike, the time had come for him to meet his fiance. He was again adorned in a royal blue suit with tassels and gems as he stood at the steps of the palace, to greet the arrival of his engaged.
"...I think we should step inside, Your Highness." His loyal knight prodded, unable to see the face Daisuke was expressing. It had been some time and the sun was dimming, signaling nightfall and his fiance and the West delegates were still not showing any signs of approach.
In other words, he had been stood up.
"...Let's." There was a slight irritation in his voice before he recomposed himself, thanking his attendants and his knights for waiting beside him for naught.
Even the dinner that was supposed to be between him and his fiance was cancelled and words reached his ears that the entourage had encroached 'unforeseen circumstances' and will be residing elsewhere other than the palace.
It was disrespectful, arrogant almost to discredit the efforts of the royals, although the secretary had been the one to arranged, but Daisuke ultimately decided to give the benefit of the doubt to his fiance. Even the dinner he that he ate alone, that was supposed to have with his fiance tasted stale. He laid in his bed, his heart beating out of his chest as he thought of meeting his soon-to-be consort.
-
A few days past and not a word from the envoy nor the convoy itself and the emperor was about to send a rescue team to find the missing fiance until the Sapphire Palace were lively and in a ruckus.
Daisuke had simply passed by the Sapphire Palace, a few miles away from the gates and he had seen the insignia of the West Duchy and it was enough for him to notice that his fiance's entourage had arrived.
There was quite a commotion, footmen arguing with each other despite the language barrier and all seemed to be out of hand until the man of the hour himself stepped out of the carriage and began to converse with the royal staff.
"It's him. The one with (h/c) hair. He's your fiance." Ivan whispered to Daisuke, who was burning his eyes into the blurry figure draped in luxurious clothes. Beside him were numerous servants who were holding what appeared to be-
"Are those shopping bags?" Black eyes zeroed in on the multitudes of items that originated from his own country.
His loyal knight beside him chipped in. "Looks like our guest went on a little shopping spree." The prince frowned, thinking that the reason why their arrival was late was that his fiance wanted to go sightseeing.
He held back a retort, still trying to hold some ensemble of peace for their upcoming marriage before the (h/c) turn his back around to lock eyes with Daisuke.
His breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat as he stared into (e/c) eyes, although he was far, no amount of distance could fog the treasure cove of beauty the man behold.
"He's...beautiful..."
The knight beside him raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness?" "Pardon me." Daisuke coughed into a fist as he quickly looked away when a servant whispered into the (h/c)'s ear as they continued to stare at them.
The prince quickly walked away, continuing with his errands before he would be swept away in the alluring pools of (e/c).
Even after indulging in his evening activities, his mind could not rid of the starry (e/c), he hadn't even seen his face up close yet Daisuke was already enthralled.
"Fucking hell..." He cursed to himself, clad in his bathrobe with his face coated with a honey face mask. Tomorrow was doomsday.
The wedding that would unite the two nations. There was no official delegate from the royals of the West although there was enough from the duchy of (l/n) and one of the reason itself that he still hadn't met his fiance face to face was because it was taboo for couples to spend the night before the wedding.
Although it was most likely to prevent premarital pregnancy so he doesn't know how it would work with his groom. Traditions are traditions, it wouldn't harm either party hopefully.
Maybe and just maybe his dream of having a tender-love marriage could still come arise. Although something else had arose underneath his robe.
"..." Daisuke shamefully walked his way to his lavish lavatory.
-
The prince wasn't particularly involved in the preparation of the wedding. His father had offered to let his own royal advisor to arrange the venue and the ceremony itself. Probably as a way to apologise at the fact that he had to drag his son's love life into politics.
Daisuke had only let them be. Chipping in once or twice about the colour scheme, what type of flowers he preferred at the altar and whatnot but overall, he would just walk down the aisle, say yes to the dress and get a move on.
His fiance was most likely not involved as well. Speaking of, he felt his hands getting clammy under the fitted white gloves he wore, oddly nervous of matrimonal ceremony. Will he be a good husband? Will his groom had accepted the fact that they were wedded for politics? This was far in contrast with his fairytale dream.
The venue was already bustling with other royals, aristocrats, upper-crust gentrys sitting in the rows and rows of seating that was behind the closed grand door. Daisuke was standing right before it.
His attire was perfect. Supervised by his own father, he was clad in a commander's full dress uniform, navy hues with tassles, emblems and medals strike across his chest. His black hair slicked back with gel with minimal powder on his face and a little bit of lip tint and blush to bring colour to his pale face.
The most handsome man of the century, was what his father said when he had a private showing with Daisuke. The emperor also mentioned that he had already met the duke's son, his fiance, and only uttered.
"Goodluck, Yuichi. A feisty one, he is."
Daisuke didn't particularly like his teasing tone but brushed it off nonetheless. His secretary was right next to him, checking his attire and whispering to a servant's ear.
"Presenting the son of the Western Duchy, Lord (m/n) (l/n)."
That instantly snapped Daisuke out of his stupor as he turned around, heels clicking on the ceramic floor and he found his breath stolen away once again.
Beautiful was an understatement, the (h/c) himself was majestic to look upon. It should cost jewels for one to even bestow their eyes on the duke's son.
That was the thought that was running through Daisuke's mind when he laid his eyes upon his groom.
A gentle smile on his face that clearly had makeup like his but somehow, his (s/c) skin was glowing even more than his pale counterparts.
Dressed in a white three-piece suit, golden and cream highlights with a notch lapel and a light blue satin puff tie. His pants were a matching white as well, black silky dress shoes with intricates hand-drawn on the red soles.
Across his chest were gold chains from the lapel to his right breast pocket and small gemstones were dangling, a sign of his wealth. He had cufflinks that were the same shade of Daisuke's navy uniform.
His lips were painted with a glossy pink-red tint, matching his undertone and there were a slight edge of eyeliner on the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, Daisuke felt like the makeup he wore wasn't enough.
Finally, the steps came to a halt and his fiance stood right in front of him, craning his neck down to greet the prince.
"Good morning, Your Highness." His voice sounded sultry and alluring, at least to his ears and he had stared at the (h/c) once again until Ivan had coughed loudly bringing him back to reality.
"Good morning, Lord...(l/n)." "(m/n) is just fine." The smile he adorned was appealing and it struck Daisuke in the right places in his chest as he faced the grand doors, the audience behind them suddenly quieting down and he felt a hand slinking to hold onto his arm.
"Let's get married, shall we?"
(m/n) (l/n) looked to him with that polite smile again and Daisuke felt his heart flutter as he nodded in return, leading their intertwined steps together.
The grand doors pushed open and an organ followed, oscillating the wind to the tune of a marriage union. An ensemble of choir sang, bringing a light atmosphere suitable for the wedding of a royal.
The pair walked down the aisle together in slow steps, Daisuke smiling at the guests, mostly familliar faces to his left although he couldn't recognise the ones on his right, (m/n)'s side that filled with foreign ministers from other kingdoms.
"I hope we didn't cause you too much trouble with my late arrival."
(m/n)'s whisper caught him off guard as he slightly peered to his right, the (h/c) still smiling and he whispered back.
"It didn't cause much but I would've hoped for an earlier introduction." He could hear almost a giggle from his groom. "We had some...run-ins."
Daisuke raised an eyebrow at that. "I saw the outlet bags. I suppose our country is fine with riches that you couldn't help yourself?"
It was quiet from the (h/c) and Daisuke felt like the walk to the altar was taking forever until they reached the podium and the officiator bowed to them.
"Dearly beloved, we have all gathered here today..."
"Your kingdom has many intricates our own lacked. I couldn't help but had a few stops." (m/n) hushly retorted, it had an apologetic tone.
Daisuke chuckled at that, suddenly all of his annoyance washed away. "I suppose a proper tour should be in order."
"...Are you not irate, Your Highness?" They both turned facing each other as the ring bearer, Daisuke's third baby cousin stepping forward to hand the small velveted ringboxes.
"I'm not, currently." Daisuke swiftly took (m/n)'s ring out of the box, a 12-carat sapphire and diamond cluster, and gently took the groom's hand and slid it on his ring finger. "As long as you're already here, all goes well for me."
There was a moment of silence from (m/n), who quietly took Daisuke's ring, an Oval Blue Sapphire, 18-carat white diamond cluster, pulled his white glove off and pushed the ring onto his finger, lightly squeezing his hand.
When Daisuke raised his eyes from their now holding hands with ringed fingers, he looked to (m/n)'s face, expecting to see the usual polite smile but there was instead a smirk accompanied with a devilish glint behind those (e/c) that was quickly brushed away with his usual facade.
"I'm glad."
"...What was-"
"Your Royal Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi, will you take Lord (m/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded husband." The officiator cut in as he waited for Daisuke to speak who in turn stammered accidentally.
"I-I do." He coughed to himself, slightly embarassed as the old officiator held a reassuring smile.
"And you, Lord (m/n) from the (l/n) Dukedom. Will you take His Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"...I do." There was a drag in the first syllable, and he smoothly finished the rest of his testimony that made something curl in Daisuke's stomach.
The prince didn't even notice the priest' next words as (m/n) suddenly leaned in to kiss him by his lips. He quite literally took his breath away, Daisuke sucking in a quick breath before deepening the kiss and pressing his hand into (m/n)'s lower back.
There were cheers, clapping in celebration of the two kingdom's union, at the expense of their own.
Daisuke pulled away and gazed into (e/c). "We're going to have so much fun." He swore he could have heard the (h/c) murmured amongst the applause the audience were imparting. He looked to the crowd, his eyes meeting his father, who was in a grander seat than the rest, nodded slowly at him.
-
The ceremony passed by quick, he had to stand on the grand podium with guests passing by in turn to greet and congratulate the new couple, (m/n) patiently still beside him, linking their arms together. Daisuke would shoot glances but a commonwealth would converse with him every now and then.
Cake-cutting and more public affection and finally were they allowed to retire to the Grand Palace. Although Daisuke had to part from his new consort who waved goodbye at him as they got ready to move into the Emerald Palace. The prince stared at the carriage leaving him and his knights behind.
Both his secretary and his knight congratulating him with his marriage with Ivan reminding him of their private dinner that night.
"I hope you do remember of your meal together that was much delayed." Daisuke nodded, unbuttoning his collar in the rocky carriage. "I do." "As well as your marriage culmination?"
"Culmina-?" "Consummating in other terms."
"..." Oh.
Ivan rolled his eyes at his silly prince whose cheeks turned pink at the heavy reminder.
-
Night has fallen and it seemed another tentative was due. The prince, checked his white loose tucked blouse he had worn along with black slacks that had silver chains pinned on the sides of his waist.
He had came much earlier than suggested, his knight asking whether he was nervous although the prince declined the indication, there was a hint of hesitance in his heart.
The cutlery was laid out on the table decorated with lace and multiple candelabra, lit up just for the occasion. It was a private dinner, just the two of them, supposedly, away from peering eyes and as a moment of intimacy for the newlyweds.
"It seems you're here early, Your Highness."
Daisuke stood from his chair, the wooden foot dragging against the carpeted floor. "Your Grace." (m/n) bowed to his now husband, along with his attendant as the door that was opened for his entry now closed by the guards who stood watch outside.
He was wearing a maroon dressing gown that dragged on the carpeted floor with a striking necklace that fit snugly around his neck.
"I hope I wasn't late, again to our tryst." "A tryst?" (m/n) frowned, pouting. "Does the prince not consider me so?"
Daisuke smiled, feeling abashed as he steeled himself. He walked over behind the (h/c), pulling up a chair and pushed it to the front while (m/n) seated himself. "If you wish." He whispered into the consort's ear before returning into his own.
He could feel a glare burning into the side of his head from the consort as butlers and maids began to serve their four-course meal. Plates and bottles of wine were presented and the servants stood behind the royals for any amendments needed.
The mahogany table was rectangular. (m/n) was sitting on the longer part of it, more to the edge while Daisuke had sat at head of the table. They were close to each other but with enough space to dine. Daisuke had requested so.
"I believed I hadn't met your father yet. I heard of what a great man he was. Was he present during the reception?" Daisuke began the dinner, taking a silver knife and began to cut into the steak on his plate.
(m/n) followed accordingly, opting to drink some of the wine first. "None of my family members were present, Your Highness. They're all booked with their own schedules."
"Oh. I'm sorry that happened." Daisuke cringed to himself, worried that he might've had offended his consort. "No no, it's fine." The (h/c) waved it off.
"I'm sure Your Highness will get to meet them some other time." That polite smile stretched across (m/n)'s face again. That odd expression.
"Please don't refer to me as a prince at all times. We are bound together in matrimony." He called a butler to pour a glass of sparkling water for himself.
(e/c) eyes gazed at the decanting before trailing back to Daisuke's black ones. "...If so, then may I request for us to be truly...private?"
The butler that was serving Daisuke a glass seemed to freeze in hesitation. He looked to his prince for confirmation and Daisuke nodded. The man stepped back, bowed and exited the dinner hall along with the other servants who spoke their greetings and trickled out of the venue in an orderly manner.
Daisuke was about to grab the bottle, to finish pouring his half-full glass before he felt fingers curling around the back of his hand.
"Let me." (m/n) smiled again, stood and delicately poured the beverage into the glass, just enough that it almost spilled over the edge. The prince quirked an eyebrow at the gesture as he carefully took the glass and sipped on the water.
"Thank you, Lord-" "(m/n)." "...(m/n)."
He felt his heart pounding again, like the first time they had met but it was different. It didn't had that nervous beat of meeting a loved one. The butterflies in his stomach wasn't due to excitement, it was like screaming at him that something was wrong-
"Have you never ventured to the West, my prince? I don't think I've ever seen you around any social events." (m/n) slumped back in his seat, poking at his food. Daisuke was a tad confused at the change of demeanour but brushed it off.
"I do travel to the West sometimes but the only events I attended were for militia intents." (e/c) rolled and the consort scoffed. "Politics. How boring."
"...Excuse me?"
It took a moment for (m/n) to stare up at the chandelier above them, responsible for lighting the whole room. He pushed himself to stand and slowly walked over to the switch that had kept it alight.
(m/n) pulled the lever down, instantly darkening the room. Daisuke squinted his eyes, adjusting to the low brightness that was only exhibited by the multiple candelabra.
"That feels much better, doesn't it?"
He almost flinched when he found the (h/c) sitting right beside him, his elbows on the table and his hands cupping his chin. (e/c) eyes peering into his. "...Were you there when they decided on our marriage, Prince Daisuke?"
His tone was off, very off, different than what the prince was used to. "...No. My father had been the one to agree, as proposed by Emperor Aurelius." "...That old geezer."
(m/n) clicked his tongue and reached out to his wine glass, instantly downing almost half of the cup, shocking Daisuke. "He always wanted to get rid of me. So scared, paranoid that I would somehow take over his empire that his ancestors built. Scared that I would seduce his son to give the throne over to me that fucking-"
He paused and smiled back to Daisuke. "So. Princey." (m/n) plucked a grape from a plate and popped it into his mouth. "What do you want from this marriage?"
Daisuke was taken aback, had this been the true nature of the second son of the West Duchy? He hesitated for a moment before retorting. "...What do I want?" "Yes."
A glimmer of hatred flashed across (e/c) who took another swig of the wine. "It is impossible for you to accept the offer without wanting something in return. What's the catch?"
"There is no catch." Daisuke pressed, almost losing his composure at the accusation he was presented. "I'm in the same position as you are, I can guarantee you."
"I truly don't care whether you were present or not when the contract of peace was signed. My...hand in marriage was given away for some..." His (e/c) scanned Daisuke up and down with judgement.
"...man." He smiled, again.
The prince took a deep breath, regaining his maturity as he sighed to himself. "Even if there was some catch, all I ask is peace." He gazed at the consort. "Between us."
"..." The consort looked bored for a moment and it was eating away at Daisuke's patience.
"When do we start?" The prince perked up at the consort's ask. "Start what exactly?" He sipped on his glass.
"The sex."
He spat out what was fresh sparkling water to his left, avoiding the consort who only glared, unimpressed at the coughing prince. "T-That was abrupt." He hit his chest a few times to get the water out of his system.
"...you sound inexperienced."
"I prefer not to reveal myself." (m/n) hummed as he clicked his tongue before he spoke. "I must warn you, though."
Daisuke felt nervous again, his heart rate speeding at the sight of (e/c) burning into his.
"You're not the first man to warm my bed."
-
Muffles of cursing and moans were discernable in the dim dinner hall. The food that was plated now cold, Daisuke having another means in his mouth.
(m/n) was in his lap, hiking up his gown, and sat plush, his legs folded as he continued to enfold the prince's senses with inching thrill, making out with the flustered prince. "Mmnn- hah huff..." Daisuke panted, pulling back and his pants tight with his erection, his back tense against the cushion of the chair and his hands clenching the armrests.
The (h/c) was staring him down, the corner of his lips leaking spit as he licked another stripe up the prince's cheek. "You seem nervous, have you never had an entertainer on you before?"
His mind was hazy and warm, his skin almost burning as he huffed. "Your tongue, you speak my language well." Daisuke didn't know why he asked that. Maybe he needed a distraction other than how (m/n)'s tongue was probably the hottest thing that entered his mouth.
"I studied your culture as soon as I received the announcement. And I had help from a couple of your subjects..." (m/n) purred, smirking. His hands slinked down Daisuke's chest until it reached the strings of his collar.
"But that's not the point now, is it?"
He ripped Daisuke's shirt with his hands, exposing the large chest underneath. The prince stammered, his hands shaky as (m/n) readjusted his position to sit his ass directly on the ravenette's clothed cock.
"Now how does the Prince of the East spend his nights?" He whispered sultrily, trailing his lips across Daisuke's neck. "I don't...typically-"
The prince's words were cut off with a moan. His own moan when the (h/c) began to grind himself on Daisuke's crotch. "Don't lie to me." (m/n) smiled. "Would His Royal Highness like to take it up the ass?"
He pressed a deep kiss to the prince's cheek before gazing deeply into his eyes. "Or does he prefer swinging his hips?" Daisuke pursed his lips together, his heart officially beating out of his chest as his hands finally had the courage to grab on (m/n)'s waist.
"I'm not bottoming." His answer was firm, determined to top. "..." (m/n) only gazed at him with an unimpressed look. "You couldn't even conquer me." The (h/c) whispered.
Suddenly, the grinding became more rough. (m/n) closed his eyes and threw his head back, circling and pressing his bottom down on Daisuke's erection. "F-Fuck mmn!" The prince panicked a bit before tightening his grip as the consort grinded himself down on the ravenette.
"Ahn! Ahh mmnn-" The (h/c)'s moans were loud and elaborate. It confused Daisuke as (m/n) gritted his teeth. He experimentally hovered his lips over the consort's neck. "I'm gonna- I'm going to cu-"
A slap echoed in the small room, shocking Daisuke. He was stunned, a small tingling on his left cheek with (m/n) staring at him unimpressed. "You think I'm that easy to cum?"
The (h/c) glared at the prince, scrutinizing him. "..." Daisuke could only stare in silence, his cheek reddening. "I..."
(m/n) propped his own chin on his left palm. "Hey. Are you actually a virgin?" His tone seemed disappointed, angry even. "I've heard the Prince of the East rejecting advances but I didn't think it'd be this dire. Your face shouldn't be a problem but how so?"
"..." Was this his true colors? Daisuke only wanted a peaceful marriage but all hopes of his fairytale seemed to vanish at the sight of the (h/c).
(m/n) waited for an answer from Daisuke who was hesitant to respond. "I just thought that...your first night should be with someone special." "Oh. You're one of those, huh. A sweetheart."
The (h/c) pried himself off of the prince, staggering in the dim room. "Listen here, prince. I don't care if you want me to carry out my marital duties. But don't bother me nor stand in my way," He trotted to the doors of the dining room.
"And I won't stand in yours."
He kicked the door open, shocking a few guards and left the prince alone. Daisuke stared at the agape door, palming his cheek wondering what the hell did he got into.
Their consummation night was scrapped. Daisuke sitting alone in the bed of their shared bedroom, screaming into the pillow with his still hard erection.
-
Daisuke had never seen his consort after that again. He was officially married but he hadn't seen his husband for the past week.
He had Ivan did some background digging and it turned out the secretary already did but Daisuke himself didn't want to read it just because he thought he didn't need to. Now here he was, hunching over his desk in his office, flipping through the files.
(m/n) (l/n), the infamous second son of the West Dukedom. An older brother to inherit the duchy, a set of parents that was rumoured to proudly spoil their baby son with multiple assets and estates. Occasionally ventures to East for social events. An extremely influential person in the upper-class.
He thought back on how the (h/c) mumbled about the Western Emperor. Looks like their arrangement was rooted much deeper than he had thought.
The prince tried to visit the consort in the Emerald Palace, where all the consorts and concubines of the royal resorted to, for now it was the sole home of (m/n) (l/n). What was once a parade of servants loyal to the prince, was sneaky and deceitful to protect their new master.
"What do you mean, he's unavailable?"
A maid coughed acting dismissive, two others behind her holding in their giggles. "Well, it is exactly what I said, Lord Ivan. His Grace isn't feeling well today."
Daisuke crossed his arms, standing behind his secretary and stared at the tall gates of the Emerald Palace. He tried to enter but was denied.
"If he's not well, has the doctor tend to the consort?" "He's unwell but he is not ill. Some time to himself is what His Grace needs." A guard suddenly chipped in and Ivan just noticed that all of the staff employed in the Emerald Palace was in on the gag.
"Do you wish for me to punish them, Your Highness?" Daisuke's knight, who was one of the commanders that served beside him during his military enlistment whispered to him. "No need." The prince sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
Daisuke knew that (m/n) was influential but to take over the Emerald Palace is not what they both need right now. Every now and then, he'd stop by the Palace but he was left in the dust each time, either he was rejected at the gates or the (h/c) was not present in his chambers.
He paused to himself, wondering why he was trying so hard to harmonize with his consort. His cheeks bloomed a light pink at the memory of the consort on their wedding day. (m/n) truly looked marvelous in his eyes.
Daisuke didn't want his first marriage to turn dull. How can he be the emperor of a nation if he couldn't even save his marriage?
"We received some...reports, Your Highness."
Daisuke looked up to his secretary, who seemed hesitant. They were in the prince's office. "What is it?" "Well...it'd be best if I tell this to you alone." The prince's knight immediately bowed and left the office, closing the doors shut.
The ravenette encouraged the secretary to sit. Ivan looked tired, as he stared into the prince's eyes. "Your consort, His Grace...we received reports of him flirting with some of the guards."
"...flirting?" An irk appeared on his forehead and he could feel mild anger building in the back of his head. How annoying was his consort?
"Yes. From the staffs of the other Palaces, not from the Emerald." "Was it a complaint or a report?" "Reports, Your Highness. The guards themselves have not reached out to me nor to your knight."
"..." Had the guards been bewitched by the (h/c)? Daisuke wondered. He sighed and pulled his cabinet open, taking out an invoice. "What are you proposing, Your Highness?"
"He's in a foreign country, away from his family with only a few familliar faces around him. He's probably throwing a tantrum with his new surroundings. His parents spoiled him with riches and the empire has no problem sponsoring him as well." The prince pulled out a stamp, officiating the new document.
"I'm increasing a total of 30% of his allowance, if he wishes for another shopping spree, then so be it."
Ivan stared at the new invoice Daisuke handed him, hesitantly picking it up. "...I don't think this is the solution." "Then what do you suggest?" "That Your Highness should steer instead of letting him trample all over you?"
The prince deadpanned at his long-known friend slash secretary who coughed into his fist and mumbled an apology. "I'll get this to the Royal Treasury immediately."
The prince had a frown on his face as his Ivan exited the office. Daisuke hadn't even seen (m/n) ever since his dinner, and here he was receiving news he was fooling around with others? Their dynamic was hard for him to tiptoe around.
Maybe the increase in money for the (h/c) would better his behaviour towards the prince.
-
"This is absurd..."
Daisuke stared at the paper in hand. An official request from his consort. He was already surprised that (m/n) was sending a letter his way but to his disappointment, it was a request for a summerhouse???
"Construction of a villa near the borders of the West, fully furnitured, surrounded by a lake with a stampede of workers for maintenance. Functionality...vacation." His knight peered over the crumbling Daisuke in his office chair.
"This...I haven't seen him in a month and the first thing he reaches out to me is a summerhouse. A SUMMERHOUSE???" Daisuke yelled frustratingly as he grabbed a quill and roughly stabbed it into the pot of ink.
"Will you indulge in his request, Your Highness?" "No. I've gifted him jewels and gold with him not even showing me his face and he dared to ask for a villa!" He was more than capable to build a villa by his own means, but a month had passed and the consort was a no-show!
He made his own advances, sending gifts, fineries, he even had a surprise private buffet for the consort ever since he heard (m/n) wished to try some of the Eastern cuisines! Not even a simple thank you from the consort himself. From the consort's attendant, yes and it made the prince curl over in delight but he wished to see the consort either way.
He had to dismiss the consort's request this time. Surely, not much of a fuss would occur.
-
"THE CONSORT IS MISSING!"
Daisuke's attention was snatched from the plate he was dining. He was having his dinner that night when a guard bursted in.
"WHAT??" "His Grace! He's gone missing!"
"How?!" Daisuke's knight stepped in. "Did he went out to town? With no guards??" "No! His schedule is clear for today, His Grace is not in his room and there were makeshift ropes from bedsheets from his windows!"
The prince sat silent for a while before he clenched his teeth. "That brat ran away...call all the knights! Cover a ten-mile perimeter! Close the FUCKING BORDERS and leave no stone unturned!!"
-
(m/n) was humming to himself, carefully guiding his horse on the stone path. The cloak he was wearing was enough to conceal the riches he was wearing underneath, he only wore them because it looked nice anyways.
As soon as the (h/c) received the notice where his request was rejected with no appeal, he ran away. Quite literally, he sneaked out of his bedroom, not even telling his maids he loved to gossip with nor even notifying a single guard.
The palace was starting to feel suffocating anyways. When he had stepped inside, all of the staff was ready to serve him as intended but as soon as he was promoted to a consort, they truly upped their game, treating him like royalty and far better than whatever he received back at the duchy.
Although they were the under the reign of the emperor, all it took was a few small gems and bags of coin to turn the maids over to his side. Then, the knights weren't that bad, Eastern men had their own charm to them and he may have fooled around with one or two, nothing advanced to the bed however.
Humans are easy to dictate over, his father and mother were his first victims of his narcisissm and his brother was kind enough to let him have his way. Socialites were a breeze, as long as you have a tight grip on people, all goes in your favour.
And that's what (m/n) (l/n) did for the past twenty two years of his life. Until the news of his engagement reached the duchy from the royal delegate. His hand in marriage, his freedom was sold to the East for peace between the two nations.
No more drunken nights, no more mingling with sexy men and women. He was forced to settle down quietly. But (m/n) wasn't going to back down without a fight. He was angry his freedom was stolen away from him, and he was going to make whoever his suitor was suffer.
At first, he delayed his arrival to the East Empire. Dragging his attendants to stop by towns, lounging in suites and overall prolonging their time before their arrival.
(m/n) had assumed his future husband was a sleazebag. An old pervert who had never shown his face in parties in the West. It was a nice surprise to find out that he was a kind handsome man on their wedding day.
It was disappointing to find out that he was a virgin pushover.
The prince, Daisuke Yuichi, showed not a single hint of anger towards him. Forgiving him in a second for his arrogance and that immediately gave (m/n) the hint that he could get away with anything as much as possible in the palace.
It was boring as well, if he was commanding at least he would have some fun in the sheets.
And him suddenly increasing his allowance, sending him gifts just showed how submissive this little prince was. (m/n) had him wrapped around his little finger already, he thought.
Yesterday, he had been in contact with a few architects since he wanted a new villa. He had multiple estates in the West but with his sudden moving, he wanted assets in the East as well. And he thought he could get his request approved but he was stunned to find it denied. The consequences were a few broken mirrors and him running away.
He handed the reigns of his horse to a worker, settling in a small town in the rural parts as he entered a lively bar, opting to ask the bartender where he could stay for the night.
(m/n) got a few winks here and there and even some paid drinks, all he did was blow a kiss and chugging them down blissfully as he headed to a moderately-sized inn.
He passed out on the bed, whining about the lack of sex for the past month as he clutched the bottle of vodka in his arms.
The consort had no clear of objective where to embark to. He thought of just journeying along the paths until he reached the borders so he could see where he can built his future villa. A horse and a small satchel with a dream.
The morning after, there was a ruckus in town. He groggily peeked out from the curtains to see guards with the Eastern insignia questioning people, a barrage of carriages and overall military personnel.
"...what the fuck..." He quietly closed the blinds as he recollected the very few items he had brought. Did the prince launch a manhunt??
He didn't think that his search would be this intense but holy fuck he's not intending to get caught like this.
He still wore the previous night's outfit, a linen blue blouse with khakis and carved boots fashioned with a cloak. He felt his heart racing when heavy footsteps tracked down the halls.
There were banging on other doors, inspecting the tenants and (m/n) immediately hid himself in a closet when his room was next.
There were heavy knocking and he held his breath in when the door was kicked open. Some yelling here and there, the (h/c) was just begging for them to leave.
"No sign of the consort!"
FUCK! They WERE looking for him. He bit his nails nervously as the chevaliers left his room to torture some other poor tenants of the inn. His mind scrambled, on what to do in this scenario.
Sure he had made a few attempts at running away before but his brother was the one who had capsized his attempts and he was at least gentle about it. These dogs looked like they wouldn't give a fuck if he lost a finger in the process.
He waited patiently in the dark closet until there were no noises outside of the window as he clambered down from the furniture and dashed out his room.
He hurriedly went to the stables, struggling to pull the ropes off of his horse when his shoulder was grabbed.
"Your Grace?"
"...FUCK-"
-
The guards were tired from an overnight search. Two of them, had been scouting the woods and stumbled across the small town and informed headquarters who sent a squad to do a full sweep.
After it was done, all they had to do was look out for any stragglers and proceed to the next stop. It was their luck to find the hunted man, the consort himself attempting to untie his horse in a rented stable.
"HOW THE HELL DID YOU FIND ME?!!"
The (h/c) had struggled, kicking and yelling as they forcefully tied his wrists together, due to him still attempting to flee with some felt rope bound to a wooden pole outside of the stables.
One of the guards only stared unimpressed at the consort's accessories, his bracelets, rows of ring and a small diamond necklace. Who else was the missing husband of the crown prince. It was a miracle he hadn't been robbed.
There was a flustered expression on the (h/c)'s face who seemed to be embarrassed by the attracting crowd of the locals who had careened around to gaze at the infamous capture while he only sat defeated on the dirt floor.
"The next troop should be making their rounds over here, luckily that one should have the Crown Prince leading." "All we have to do is wait." They high-fived each other, standing guard while ignoring the yelling and cursing consort behind them.
It didn't take long for the consort to wear himself out and the next barrage of army to arrive. The prince's personal knight had been the one to came to them first, glancing at the dirty consort and walked over to the grand carriage that obviously carried the prince, opening the carriage.
"Shit shit shit-!" (m/n) cursed at himself, more pumped to free himself from embarrassment and his restraints as he pulled his wrists against the ropes, etching the material into his skin. He hissed in pain but he felt his heart dropped when he saw a familiar mop of black hair walking towards him in silver armour.
"...What is this?"
(e/c) eyes didn't dare to raise upon hearing the seething voice of the once kind prince. "I said what the hell is this?!" Daisuke turned to the two guards who supposedly had caught the consort.
"...It's the consort, Your Highness." The knight responsible for tying him jittered in nervousness, not expecting the aggression. The prince, clad in full armour with a cape, gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he snatched the collar of one of the guards. "If you knew he was my husband, then tell me why he's tied up like a stray dog!" He hissed, enraged at the fact (m/n) was on the ground, his wrists tied to a pole like a dirty mutt.
"Untie him immediately!" He threw the guard to the pole by his collar who staggered to cut the ropes. "Two trained knights couldn't restrain an unarmed man?! How stupidly incompetent do you have to be!" Daisuke was yelling, cursing at the guards while the rest of the squad watched.
(m/n) just sat helplessly, silently watching the knights cut through his restraints and he breathed a sigh of relief when his limbs were free from the ropes. Daisuke grabbed his hands, examining the burns as he looked at his consort in the eye.
The (h/c) didn't dare to look at the prince, silently facing to the side as he was pulled up by the arm, Daisuke grabbing him firmly and shoving him into the carriage while the rest of them bowed to the royals.
He was forced to sit beside the prince, his hands clammy and his clothes dirty while Daisuke was staring straight ahead, still fuming regarding the consort. It was painfully awkward until they reached a cabin for the horses and the men to rest, they had been searching for the missing consort overnight.
Once again, the consort was roughly manhandled upstairs into the cabin by Daisuke, while the rest of them camped outside. (m/n) pulled himself away from the prince once they were inside the privacy of the bedroom.
"Give me your hand." Daisuke's voice was firm, on edge and (m/n) silently held out his wrists as the prince took out a bottle of ointment from an emergency kit. Dabbing a cotton pad onto the opening of the bottle and carefully swiping it on the consort's burns.
"You should've been careful. The subjects are not familiar with you. You could've gotten hurt." The incessant rambling was annoying to (m/n) as he huffed. "I was fine. I can take care of myself."
The prince paused, looked up to him with a fierce glare. "You? Take care of yourself? I doubt you can even wield a knife." "I was only out for a stroll. Do I have to be accompanied twenty four-seven just for some fresh air?"
"You were missing for two days! No guards, no attendants! You could've died!" The consort pulled himself away from the prince, annoyed. "I was FINE! I'm still alive, aren't I?? Stop acting so paranoid and just leave me be.
Daisuke stood, now pissed. "Leave you be?? You have been avoiding me ever since our wedding. Rejecting my requests of audience like some arrogant prick!" "Oh I'm so sorry, Your Royal Highness! I should've licked your boots from the moment I arrived." The (h/c) mocked the prince.
"Watch your tone with me." Daisuke seethed, the consort scoffing, crossing his arms. "Or what? I doubt you would punish me for a trivial matter."
"I don't understand your hostility against me. I could've had you hung the moment you slapped me at our dinner." "But you didn't. You let it slide. I've trampled over you numerous times but you didn't give a single damn. It's not my fault the Prince of the East is a feeble PUSHOVER!"
If Daisuke was mad moments ago, he was now absolutely enraged. He stepped to the consort and grabbed him by his jaw. "I said, watch your shitty tone with me." He scowled.
"Or what?" (m/n) smirked. "What will you do, Princey." That stupid name pissed Daisuke off. He grabbed the (h/c)'s arm and tossed him onto the bed, the latter yelping while the prince started to remove his armour.
"I'm aware you've been whoring yourself to the knights. Tell me, have you had such an itch between your legs that you couldn't even keep them closed?" Daisuke felt his face grew hot with anger, tearing off his chest and shoulder plates from his figure, revealing his tight undershirt hugging his body.
"You-...I didn't do anything with them." (m/n) stammered, embarassed that his secrets of flirting with the guards had been leaked. He watched as Daisuke kicked the rest of his armour off of himself. "It's not like I've slept with them, we were just talking-" "It's no use justifying yourself."
The prince suddenly climbed onto the bed as (m/n) clambered away but yelped when the ravenette tugged on his ankle. "I'm furious. You've chosen to fool around with some second-level chavelier instead of seeing your own husband."
"You wouldn't care! Even if I fucked your father, you wouldn't give a single damn-" (m/n)'s head tossed to the side, his cheek burning in pain. He had just been slapped.
The consort looked up to the prince in shock. "You...Even my father has never-" "Well I'm not your fucking daddy, am I?"
Something rose in the (h/c)'s pants, there was a dark look in Daisuke's eyes that sent shivers down the consort's spine. He felt his breath becoming heavy as the prince leaned down to his face.
"If you're to disobey me once again, I'll strip you naked and feed you to the wolves. Do I make myself clear?" Daisuke glared into shaky (e/c) eyes, but he felt something throbbing pressing against his pelvis and he looked down.
He scoffed, unimpressed at the (h/c)'s erection. "Was this what you wanted? Me claiming you from the start? I'm over here furious at your behaviour and your cock is hard?" (m/n) shook his head, flustered. "I just- it's-" He couldn't find the words to defend himself of how he was so turned on getting threatened from his husband.
"It's been a while since I-" "And I haven't gotten a chance to taste you, rascal. To think you've messed around with my knights." (m/n) let out a flustered moan as Daisuke roughly groped his chest.
"Let's see if the peace between our nations was really worth the hassle."
-
There was stuttered moans, whimpers in the small bedroom, (m/n) covering his face with his arms. His body barely covered with his tattered shirt. His pants were tossed to the back with Daisuke lazily twirling the fountain pen he found in one of the cupboards.
The consort's bottom half was propped up with a pillow underneath, his legs dangling on armrests, Daisuke had pulled up a chair near the edge of the bed and slumped himself in it.
Currently, the (h/c) was exposed, his shirt torn in half and his hole twitchy being prodded by the pen in Daisuke's hand. The prince pushed, and swirled it around, stretching his dry rim.
(m/n) mewled, his body hot and he didn't like how he was the only one naked. He was deprived of sex for weeks and it was a pleasure for him to be toyed by the prince, who he thought he didn't even had the balls to pounce on him.
"Uncover your face. I didn't take you to be the shy type." (m/n) choked on his saliva when the pen was thrusted into his ass up to its hilt and his hips squirmed, uncomfortable and tingling from the length. "I-It's too dry- Mmnn! It hurts- anghh!"
"Oh nowww you're listening to me. When I finally put something in your ass is the moment you decided to stop being a brat." (m/n) couldn't see Daisuke's expression right now, if he did he bet he could squirt in seconds.
A firm grip on his cock made him mewl again, a throaty cry leaving his wet lips. "I said...uncover your face." The consort's heart was beating out of his chest as he slowly placed his arms to the side.
Daisuke felt amused, (e/c) teary, a flustered aroused expression on the consort's face. Far different than the defiant side he had faced all this time. He could feel his own cock throbbing in his pants.
He pressed the pen in deeper, (m/n) gargling and groaning in response. "D-Daisuke-" "Be formal. Respect me as your prince."
The (h/c) frowned, frustrated. "Your Highness..." He peeked up at the prince whose face was red, flushed with arousal and amusement.
"Good boy."
His cock spurted short ropes of cum in Daisuke's hand, the owner himself staring at his wet genital in shock. "H-How did I...?" Even the consort himself was confused how could he, a man who had slept with an abundant men and women previously, came extremely quick at the hands of the Eastern prince who had yet to shed a single garment.
"So you are a slut." Daisuke's tone was mundane. As if he was bored, unimpressed. (m/n)'s eyebrows were furrowed, his teeth clenching as he stared at his cock being slowly jacked off by the ravenette.
"I just c-came- wait wait!" He held in a breath as he endured his coming down from an orgasm with Daisuke fapping his cock agonizingly in slow but firm strokes. "Am I supposed to care?" The prince spoke with an arrogant tone.
The consort whined, his hips bucking and he clenched around the pen in his anus. His ass flinched when the prince took a glass decanter and pour the liquid inside down his cock, flowing down his base, slipping on the curve of his balls and coating the exposed pen and his clenching rim.
"Wh-What was that?" He panicked, his nether region feeling unusually hot. "You said you were dry." Daisuke brushed off the consort's worries, pulling out the pen and stuck his bare fingers inside, massaging his rim.
His fingertips dug into his hole, caressing his squelching walls, Daisuke observing (m/n)'s reaction who became more and more flustered. His hand that was gripping (m/n)'s cock went to flick his nipples, the consort cried out in shock.
The (h/c) bit his bottom lip, his eyes drowsy as he felt his body becoming more hot. He arched his back as he clambered to remove the remains of his torn shirt.
"Feeling warm?" (m/n) nodded to the prince's question, propping his hands up to support his body while getting his ass fingered by the prince. "What was in that decanter?" He moaned out.
"Emergency supplies. Used for wounds and cramps, I suppose its a fine substitute for a quick lube job." The (h/c) groaned in frustration, whimpering in hot discomfort. His previous partners had never been sloppy with him, only using expensive products and treating him like glass.
The prince, who sensed that the consort was complaining in his head yet again, grabbed his neck and brought him to his face. "Be grateful that I'm prepping you. Any man as angry as I am would've torn you apart by now. A 'thank you' would suffice."
(m/n) choked, still denying until Daisuke's fingers suddenly jammed roughly into his hole, two knuckles deep. "T-Thank you, Your Highness..." He whimpered.
Daisuke finally got the appreciation he wanted. He licked a stripe up (m/n)'s cheek, his fingers clenching the (h/c)'s jaw. Pressing a deep kiss into his cheek, he whispered into the consort's ear. "Now that's sensible."
(m/n) suddenly felt pissed off.
"I'll spit in your face if you don't back up." He snarled at the prince. Daisuke only rolled his eyes. "Tell your cock to stop leaking pre, then I'll release you." (m/n) groaned, still hating that he was the only one naked.
"Take off your clothes. It's not fair I'm the only one stripped." Sighing, the prince released his grips and took out his fingers. (m/n) squirming at the empty feeling left in his hole as the prince stood, kicking the chair away.
"Undress me." He ordered the consort. The (h/c) frowned but kneeled on the mattress nonetheless, climbing over the pillow as he roughly tugged off the prince's shirt, resisting the urge to punch his glaring face.
He pulled the belt off of his waist but when it came to his pants, (m/n) leaned his body down and used his teeth, pushing the button through the slit using his tongue and ripped the rest of the waistband halfway with his teeth. The prince groaned, stroking his (s/c) bare back.
The consort's body was pushed down, (m/n) knocked onto the bed in his back as Daisuke pulled his thighs forward, hiking his legs onto his shoulder. His bottom was propped once again by the pillow.
"Make sure not to cum so quick." (m/n) smirked, alluding to the fact that Daisuke was a virgin. The prince pulled out his cock...his big, big cock and scoffed.
"Confide that to yourself."
(m/n) accidentally bit his tongue when Daisuke pulled his hips back, slapping his ass against his naked groin. He felt heat bloom in his stomach, instantly full in his hole. "A-ahh mmh ahh-" He whimpered, staring up at the ceiling in debauched shock.
His thighs quivered as the prince had a bruising grip on his waist, pushing him back before slamming his cock inside again. A short scream dwelled from his throat as he felt his ass pierced.
The (h/c)'s nails dug into the cotton sheets below him as he endured blows from the prince who began to rut his cock roughly into his strained ass. He almost screeched at the sheer intensity of his thrusts the ravenette bestowed, the heat curling in his stomach once again.
Daisuke had been angry. Angry ever since that stupid dinner. But he was raised to be fair, to be just so he put himself in (m/n)'s shoes but all the disrespect, the arrogance the consort protrude hacks away at his patience.
He tried to be loving, giving the (h/c) space but all he received was spats of degrading and defiant remarks. All of those resentment began to pile in the back of his mind and eventually burst when he received the news of the consort fleeing from the palace.
He was angry that the consort put himself in danger, he was also enraged on how the man even flirted with others while leaving his husband in the dark.
It all lead to this moment, him fucking his mountain of vexation into the squirming melting (h/c).
"Haa- anhh!" Another spout of creamy semen splurted from the tip of (m/n)'s dick, slipping down and dripping onto his own stomach.
Daisuke could see the confusion and frustration etched on the consort's face. He held in a sly laugh as he bend his body down, pressing his head next to the consort's.
"Don't jinx yourself, quickshot." He teased the (h/c). The latter smacked his back to which Daisuke quickly humping his dick into the squelching hole, chasing his high.
"Wait wait! Not inside-!" He breathed a long sigh of relief, cumming long ropes of baby batter in the consort's hole.
(m/n) squirmed, feeling sticky as he tried to push the prince off. "You bitch. You cunt, I told you not to cum in me-!" He hissed.
It was a little secret he hold to himself, the (h/c) loooves people cumming inside of him but he wouldn't dare show it to the prince. However, Daisuke seemed to read his mind, apart from his still hard and twitching cock, he moved the consort to lay on his side.
"I'm not done. You have a month's worth of payback, consort." Daisuke spat on the (h/c)'s stomach who showed clear disgust and disapproval. "You shitty bitch." He scowled. A strangled gasp left his throat when the prince curled his hand around his neck, moving him up and down, choking him with his grip and his cock.
The more feisty the (h/c) was, the rougher his thrusts gotten, Daisuke gripped the consort's wrist with his other free hand, leaving him to claw at the sheets with only one, limiting (m/n) to ground himself who was squirming, going cockdrunk on his penis.
(m/n) was confused, scared why he was so turned on by the prince and his rough treatment. He couldn't stop cumming so many times on the prince's cock and the prince kept nutting inside of him despite his pleas not to do so.
His left leg was hooked on Daisuke's shoulder as he was pounded sideways, at one point he had came twice during one round, the prince degrading and slapping his ass for his whorish achievement.
Clenching around Daisuke, (m/n)'s thighs shook, his head fuzzy and eyes glossy with tears. The (h/c) dug his nails into Daisuke's strong arms, who had planted his hands beside his head.
How much fucking stamina did this monster had? (m/n) whined, wishing for the prince to finish already.
It wasn't until the seventh round that he started to cry.
At that point, his stomach was covered with a layer of cum and spit. His cheeks were hot with flowing tears, begging the prince to just hurry and cum inside him already.
"I c-can't anymore- mmf! Please- hurry up- hngg!" He sobbed, streaks of teardrops on his face. The prince only stared down at him with a detached expression, as if his body was boring to him. "I'll stop when I feel like it."
He screamed when Daisuke clenched his tip. "Maybe you should stop creaming so many times." (m/n) wailed another cry, pushing the prince's chest away as he somehow adjusted his body, rotating himself so he was lying on his stomach.
It appeared that would prompt the prince more who began groping and massaging his ass, slapping it once and twice while still shoving his cock in and out of his hole.
(m/n) drooled onto the sheets, his dick shoved and dragged against the duvet. His eyes widened as he got a glimpse of his state.
There was an old oval mirror, the top half covered with a linen sheet but the bottom was bare, reflecting (m/n)'s current position in the dim room.
He looked at himself and he couldn't recognise who he was. The once proud, bratty son of a duke was a mere dirty, squelching, crying, cum-filled hole under the prince. Daisuke was still going strong, gripping his butt cheek and ramming himself into his dripping hole. He couldn't believe that the man above him was a virgin.
Maybe he was wrong. Angering and pouring fuel onto the calm and kind prince, he thought he could take advantage of. Fooling around, refusing to grant him audience despite having the position as his husband. And to think of all the gifts the prince had given him as a means of peace, he either tossed aside or used for his own pleasure while brushing off his efforts.
Daisuke leaned down onto him, (m/n) tiredly watching him through the reflection on the mirror and he screamed when the prince planted his teeth into his nape, biting into his skin. He mewled, squirting hot semen onto the sheets again, as Daisuke claimed him by biting his neck like a wild animal.
"I-I..." His voice was weak, throat sore from moaning and crying so much. "M' sorry." He could feel the prince's thrusts slowing down before coming to a stop. The prince released him from his bite, he was sure there had to be bits of blood from the mark.
"What?" His tone sounded confused, as if (m/n) was the most arrogant bitch he ever met that even an apology sounded like he heard the singing of an angel.
"I'm sorry...for what I did...for all this time..." He muttered in broken words, his face sweaty and his mouth slobbered with spit. The consort mumbled more apologies, of what he did, for slapping him, for dismissing his audience, flirting with other men.
"..." Daisuke seemed to be quiet before he pulled out of the consort. (m/n) cried when his hair was pulled up as he was forced to his knees. His hands gripping at Daisuke's who clenched his grip on his scalp. "If I catch you wagging your tail around other men again, I'll sell you to a brothel. Do you understand?"
The consort weakly nodded, inching closer to the hard and wet cock that laid against his ass crack. It seemed that Daisuke had also noticed the mirror, the prince's eyes wide glaring at him through the reflection.
"I-I won't. I just want your cock. O-Only yours- mmn!" He bit his bottom lip, when the prince grinded himself against the (h/c)'s sensitive and stinging ass. "I'm sorry."
(m/n) had realised that this was a battle. A battle of their opposite attributes. As if the striking lightning and the ear-shattering thunder clashed with Daisuke coming out on top. And he had lost in the waves of their disputing dynamic.
He submitted himself to the prince, finally lowering his ego.
"Put it in." He breathed out, glancing behind him, his teary (e/c) eyes striking the prince right in the chest.
Daisuke seemed taken aback, his grip faltering before he gently pulled the consort back so he could rest on his chest. They were both on their knees, (m/n) breathing slowly, his body lax against Daisuke's as he rested his head beside's Daisuke's jaw.
He could feel semen dripping out of his hole as the prince carefully held his hips, avoiding the dents in his waist from his fingers as he angled his tip to kiss his hole.
(m/n) sucked in a breath, Daisuke slowly shuffling his cock inside his ass, contrast to how they first started.
His body was bounced on his dick, the prince moving him using his hips and he moaned loudly, throwing his head back. Daisuke stared at him, his eyes half-lidded as he gently prodded his nose onto the consort's cheek.
The innocent touching lead the prince hovering above his lips. Daisuke delicately pressed a kiss onto the consort, who accepted the gesture fondly as the innocent affection turned into tongue-tying lust. They were making out while (m/n)'s bouncing and Daisuke's thrusting became more fervent, chasing their orgasm together.
(m/n) mewled loudly into the prince's mouth, Daisuke immediately sucking on his bottom lip as the (h/c) came. The prince groped his chest, and fondled his sensitive cock while his staggering hips was rutting up into the consort as he creamed inside one last time.
Slowly, they both fell on their sides, (m/n) unable to move, his body immobile. Daisuke gently pulled out, breathing heavily from what was the first and best sex of his life.
-
He woke up alone.
The prince groggily sat up, his bottom half numb as he forced himself to open his eyes. Morning rays of sunlight entered the room through the curtains and he stretched his torso like a cat before turning to his right.
His heart dropped as he noticed no signs of the consort, finally remembering what happened the evening before as he clambered to slip on a robe and was about to trudge downstairs before he noticed the bathroom door was slightly open and the running of tap water.
Carefully, he creaked the door open, peaking inside to find the (h/c) submerged in the wooden bathtub, quietly washing himself.
(m/n) perked up when he noticed the prince opening the door. "Your Highness..." It seemed that the (h/c) had woken up earlier than the ravenette, opting to wash himself first.
Daisuke staggered, his legs still weak. "...I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I couldn't clean you-" "It's fine." (m/n) assured the prince, before looking away and closing the tap water.
There was something different about the (h/c), Daisuke noticed. He seemed more fragile? More delicate. Well, it was the first time he wasn't shouting to his face.
He was still standing in the middle of the loo awkwardly before they both spoke at the same time.
"Would you like to join me?" "May I join you?"
Both of them seemed taken aback at the coincidence, Daisuke more flustered as (m/n) nudged his head as an offer to join him. The prince disrobed himself, (m/n) looking away as Daisuke carefully stepped inside the already small tub.
The tub was small, cramp even to fit the both of them. The (h/c) hugging his legs, his chin on his knees as he mindlessly splashed the water around him.
Daisuke was staring, his eyes gazing over (s/c) skin, his shoulders, his wet hair. His mundane expression is what drawn him in. Half-lidded eyes staring at the water, fingers gently poking at the surface tension. It wasn't bad. It was peaceful.
"...I'm going to wash myself now."
(m/n)'s voice broke him out of his trance, the consort staring back at him and Daisuke noticed that the tub of liquid soap on the cabinet behind him.
"...Would you like me to help?" "It would be nice."
(m/n)'s voice sounded very fond, melodic almost as Daisuke began to lather the soap and scrub it into (h/c) strands, smoothing it over his skin gently. The consort did the same for the prince and at the moment Daisuke truly felt like they were acting as a married couple.
His heart felt full and when (m/n) turned his body around, Daisuke suddenly went forward to hug his back. His arms enveloping around the consort's figure, the latter who was about to step out was restricted as he glanced at the ravenette.
"Sorry...just give me a few minutes." He mumbled, planting his face into the consort's shoulders. Daisuke could feel the (h/c) sighing and leaning into his touch, and they stayed there.
The prince kissed the marks he left last night, where he had animalistically sank his teeth into the consort. His lips gently traced his teeth marks, as if to apologise to the consort. (m/n) only leaned into his touch further, letting the ravenette express his affection. They stayed for a while, until the water turned murky and their fingertips were wrinkly.
When (m/n) was about to exit the tub, he heaved himself up but his hold slipped in the process, his lower half clearly more immobile from the previous evening and Daisuke cutting in to make sure he doesn't fall.
The prince stepped out first, tied a towel around himself and laying out another on a spare table. He reached into the tub to cradle the (h/c) and pulled him out of the tub. The water splashing out from the edges.
"You don't have to-" "It's only decent if I do." He stopped the (h/c) from refusing him any longer. And it had an impact on the consort.
(m/n) was carried by the prince into the bedroom and was gently placed on the clean side of the bed. Daisuke asking an attendant for two sets of clean clothes and when it arrived, he helped his husband dress before they headed downstairs for breakfast.
They dined together, and Daisuke thought it would be awkward or maybe a pitiful attempt at small talk but (m/n) was quiet. Nimbly chewing at his Danish ice cream toast, and the prince followed suit, basking in the peaceful atmosphere.
Some of the guards peeked at the pair, expecting Daisuke to yell at him or the consort to rebel since they heard the rumours of them not getting along backed up by their public arguments but they found the two to be surprisingly civil with each other. Daisuke opening the carriage for (m/n) and holding his hand when the consort stepped in as they continued their journey back to the palace.
The prince kept shooting glances at the consort, who only stared out at the window of his side, keeping to himself.
When Daisuke asked him if anything was wrong, all (m/n) did was shook his head and replying in a polite manner.
The ravenette thought he broke his consort, all up until they arrived at the palace. (m/n)'s maids wailed in relief at the sight of him as they hurriedly tended to the consort, who still maintained his monotone expression.
Daisuke wiped his face in agony as Ivan asked what the hell had happened.
"I think...I was too rough on him..."
The secretary irked and ushered the prince into the throne hall to report to the emperor.
-
"How embarassing..."
(m/n) mumbled to himself, pulling at a soft handkerchief as the servants presented him a large treasure chest.
"It is a present from His Highness for you, Your Grace." The butler announced, opening the chest, revealing an abundance of shiny gold coins with jewels and gems scattered about. His maids behind him had their eyes shining, drooling over the treasure.
It had been a day since he returned from his escape. All he did was recuperate in his room from his tranquil state and he had slept early that evening so when the prince asked for dinner together, he didn't get to accept.
He felt like he made peace with his circumstances, with his arranged marriage, although he did felt abashed regarding the whole 'running away' incident. The consort plucked the card on top of the mountain of coins.
"For the villa..." He mumbled the words written on the card. "This prick." (m/n) rubbed his forehead as he turned to his maids.
"Help me get dressed. I'm paying a visit to my husband."
-
Daisuke was frustrated. There were some troubles stirring up at the Western borders and there were complications were the ministers refuse to cooperate to handle the increase in thugs and crime.
He was fast at writing down letters and signing documents but his mind wandered to his consort. There was his guilty conscience, screaming at him of why he treated his husband so roughly on their first night together.
A piece of himself tried to justify while the rest of him only felt remorse and thought they were back at square one when the consort didn't respond to his invitation for last night's dinner. He perked up when his door was pushed open.
-
(m/n) could hear gasps and whispers from the servants, he rolled his eyes and glared at a few of them who immediately scuttled away as he trotted past them. Ivan was behind him, he himself was taken aback when he requested to see Daisuke as he led him to the prince's office.
The guards bowed to him as they pushed the door open, revealing a shocked ravenette who had his mouth wide open in shock.
"(m/n)...I mean, Lord (m/n)! What are you doing here-" "Was this supposed to be compensation?"
Daisuke squinted his eyes at the card (m/n) was holding. The one he sent along with the treasure chest. "Compensation?" "Was this compensation for my body?"
Immediately, Ivan excused himself, shutting the doors close. Daisuke stood to defend himself. "What- no! It's for the villa. It's what you wanted, right?" (m/n) glared at the card before crushing it in his grip. "It felt like you only sent it because we slept together, Your Highness."
"I-" The prince sighed. "Look, I'm not in the mood to argue today. Can we just not do this?" He groaned, sitting back in his chair, going over the papers again. (m/n) stared at him before his eyes trailed to the rest of the interior.
Picture frames, bookshelves, even a lounge couch and a coffee table in burgundy and brown accents. He walked around the office, trailing his fingers over the decoration. "Do you stay in here often, Your Highness?"
Daisuke eyed the consort, his fingers massaging his forehead. "...I do. It's my office, I do all my paperwork here." (m/n) hummed, as he placed back a book he had pulled out, not fully understanding the writing.
"...I see that you're in distress, Your Highness. More than usual today." Daisuke wasn't sure if that was a jab at how heated he gets during their arguments or out of genuine concern. "...There's some trouble at the borders. The West is not cooperating currently. I'll have to refer to my father for this matter."
(m/n) leaned on the table, his palm close to Daisuke's hand as the consort kneeled down in front of the prince, pushing him and his chair back. "What are you doing?!" Daisuke had a clear blush on his face, his face abashed and (m/n) could already see the rising tent in his pants.
"...the sex yesterday was nice. It was really nice." "...Oh..." And here the prince was worried he was too malicious with the consort. "Usually, I'd prefer some physical aftercare." "Physical?" "Just...holding me would be nice."
(m/n) swiped or tied his hair back. "But it seemed that you are in need of a different type of care, Your Highness." Daisuke's eyes widened as the (h/c) tugged his zipper down.
He was jitterish, his fingers shaky as the consort gave him the best head he ever had. The first one, in fact and (m/n) left him in his office in a fucked out state, wiping his mouth.
His personal guard peeked inside to see Daisuke drooling on his desk, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Ever since then, the consort had frequent visits to the Grand Palace where Daisuke resided. He would often lounge in his office while the prince worked and Daisuke really favoured this new outcome.
They would banter every now and then but it wouldn't turn into a full-blown argument and he was grateful for that on its own. Meals were shared and they would go on walks in the garden together, he found out the (h/c) preferred the greenhouse the most.
They even went on a date! A tour of the capital like Daisuke had promised on their wedding day although he couldn't deny he was a bit jealous when (m/n) revealed some of the places he brought the (h/c) to had been visited by him and his guards.
Speaking of, Daisuke replaced all of the knights that had previously attended to the consort, switching out with older and more loyal guards, some of them returning from wars. The prince just wanted to make sure (m/n) had no paladdins he would be attracted to.
"You can always claim me again." The (h/c) bit the ravenette's ear when Daisuke told him of the new rearrangement. Cue to them fucking like rabbits in the library, knights were scarred as they stood guard outside.
It also seemed that the prince was slowly introduced to public affection. (m/n) touching him fondly or even teasingly in open places. He wasn't used to this but he was slowly adapting. He was also very pleased when he received no more reports of the (h/c) fooling around with other men, maybe his faux warning worked a bit too well.
Although the consort had been acting a bit too bold lately.
"What do you mean I can't enter?! He's my husband!"
Daisuke quickly diffused the situation, fetching (m/n) who was outside of his chambers, arguing with some of the guards who had refused his entry due to him occupied in the bath.
"Next time, let him pass freely." He whispered to one of the paladdins as (m/n) slumped on Daisuke's bed, noting the immediate sinking the mattress had. He propped himself up sideways while the maids helped the prince tidy himself up after his bath.
The (h/c) frowned, seeing the ravenette exposed around others, with water droplets dripping down his muscles, his bathrobe giving a window to his chest, and the fluffy robe was NOT hiding the fact that he had a huge dick.
"How long are they going to be here?"
As soon as those words escaped the consort's lips, half of the maids present froze, hesitating to continue with their chores as Daisuke turned to his husband.
"Do you prefer I use butlers instead?" He offered to switch, he didn't want (m/n) to have any discomfort of him being bare around the opposite sex.
"...No." "...Then is there a problem?"
(m/n) had been lying on his stomach, swinging his legs playfully before he rolled himself over on his back. "It's best if they weren't in the room for now." He purred, looking at Daisuke dead in the eyes as he teasingly spread his legs.
"Oh." The prince slapped himself in the face, letting his palm stay on his cheek as he sat there in growing arousal. "Leave."
The servants followed as they're told and the prince raised his face when the door clicked shut. "You ought to stop being so bold, Lord (m/n)." He groaned, although stripping himself and climbing over the (h/c).
"Just (m/n) is fine." The consort purred, wrapping his arms around the prince's neck, swiping his tongue on his lips together.
The longer Daisuke was around (m/n), the more he realised how much of a vixen he had in his arms. The (h/c) was so experienced and demanding in bed, intentionally moaning loudly about how big his cock is just so he could embarrass Daisuke although the prince was more than happy to indulge into his carnal desires.
The prince stared up at the ceiling, the room was dark, curtains shut closed, his plans to venture out to the ministry cancelled, he laid in his bed next to the similarly naked consort.
In his mind, he thought back to his childhood dreams, of owning a fairytale love story.
"What are you thinking of?"
He glanced to his left to see (m/n) on his side, staring at the prince while pulling up the blanket up to his chest. "Nothing, really." "Liar, you were really deep in thought."
"..." Daisuke contemplated whether he should reveal his childish dreams. "...When I was a kid, my father would tell me stories. Storybooks, of prince and princesses. And I thought that maybe one day, I get to have my own fairy tale too."
The consort next to him was quiet, although he didn't see his expression, still staring up to his painted ceiling.
"And I just thought of the present."
There were some rustling and the consort placed his head directly next to his, touching shoulders. (m/n) was frowning, his arm reaching to hug Daisuke at his waist. "I mean, life changes doesn't it? The fact that we're even tolerating each other is something we should be thankful for."
"That is true." "You're still in fret. Did you not get the happy ending you desired?"
The prince actually gave some thought into it. A stupid decision, and it hurt the consort. "It was not the one that I expected but I'm satisfied regardless."
"...Good to know..."
Daisuke felt the consort pull back and faced his body away from him. The prince pondered for a moment at the sudden change in behaviour. He wordlessly went up behind the (h/c), pulled him close, his chest to (m/n)'s back and silently went to sleep, unaware of the brewing storm thundering in the consort's mind.
[END SCENE]
[unedited]
PREVIEW FOR...
DEAREST HUSBAND [PART II]
ROYALLY FUCKED [PART III]
Afterthoughts...
Daisuke and (m/n) after discovering hate sex:
Surprise! This will be a three-part installment. I forgot how much I loveee writing historical fiction and i just had so many ideas i couldnt fit them into one!
I really did try to aim how the reader isnt completely in the right although he is somewhat justified (will be further explored). Theres some clashing where Daisuke Yuichi is canonically Japanese but the aesthetic here is European-based so please forgive my inaccuracy this one time. I thought of involving interracial marriage but i didnt want to overcomplicate things.
If you read the part where Daisuke asked how (m/n)'s language was good, it hinted that one of the other reason our reader arrived late to the palace was him sleeping around with men of the East.
And yeah, the ending part. Daisuke lowkey in the wrong. I would be so offended if my husband said that, idc if arranged or not.
Ill release the second chapter if i like how the audience receives this one! (As in if u guys like it or not haha) im very hoping to find a beta reader btw. Stay tuned!
