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leiswxrld · 4 months

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𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

pairings: felix catton x fem reader

synopsis: you hate felix catton because of how snobby rich and stuck up he is and when your best friend Farleigh tells you to come to saltburn with him, you have no choice but to say yes.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, public sex, smoking, degradation + praise (slut,whore, pretty girl, beautiful), riding, pussy eating (r receiving), unprotected sex, period sex, enemies to lovers kinder (one sided).

a/n: guys I feel like I rushed this but I was trying to get this done and out by tuesday latest, felix is the definition of girl dinner.

credits: @cafekitsune @roseschoices line dividers ❥

It’s late, way past midnight sat in the garden hearing the crickets and sounds of birds chirping as you light a cigarette, taking a long drag before pausing and exhaling into the bristly midnight air, sat in pyjama bottoms and a tank top you feel the inclement cold slivering up your fingertips, giving you a case of raymond syndrome.

It’s quiet but peaceful laying against the green grass, taking in another drag from the narrow cylinder in between your lips, tasting the thick smog. You hear the sounds of heavy footsteps behind you, briefly turning over to see him before rolling your eyes and turning back to face the beautiful scenery in front.

Felix Catton. The owner of this beautiful home but it was safe to say you didn’t feel the same way about him, you felt absolute hatred towards him, you didn’t want to be here living it up with all the prissy rich people who loved to flash their money and talk about shit about people they wanted to but your best friend Farleigh begged you to come in his words it would be a ‘hell of a fucking experience’.

Was he irritable- yes but one thing you weren’t going to deny was that he was attractive who in their right mind would disagree, his dark brunette hair complimented his memorising earthy brown eyes, his height would make any person crease and that fucking cheshire smile got you every time.

You feel his presence lingering behind you, almost scared to even approach as you sat in silence for a few seconds, you gently tap the ashes from your cigarette into the grass and you dump the remains into the pond. “What do you want”

You voice is low but threatening, not moving from the current position your in. The sounds of his voice being caught in his throat is evident as he try’s to clear it with a soft cough, “Farley wanted to know where you were”

You scoff, turning around to meet his puppy doe eyes that seem to avoid your intimidating gaze. “So why did Farley send you out to find me”

“Well- I think we need to talk” he replies, voice cracking but confident.

“About ?” your head tilts to the side, eyebrow raised you just wanting the conversation to end so that you could go back to the peaceful silence.

“Do you hate me” the question catches you off guard, surprising you how forward Felix was about your loathing against him.

You sigh, cracking your neck and turning away from him watching the ripples from the pond spread out across the mass of the pond water. “What’s not to like about you….your an asshole, an ignorant rich boy who likes to laugh at those who are less fortunate than you and in general a massive slut”

It was true, Felix was known for being the university’s massive manwhore sleeping around with any girl that would throw themselves his direction, it not only disgusted you but it made you fucking jealous. In some twisted fucking way you wanted to be the one he would bend over and fuck the shit out of, hearing stories from your friends about how much of a good fuck he was made your distaste for him even stronger.

He’s lost for words not saying anything for a moment, you’ve think he’s finally got the hint and pissed off back into the house and you sigh in relief, laying back down on the floor but you hear his footsteps pace around you before stoping in front of you, blocking your view. “What the fuck are you-

It’s quick and sudden, falling onto his knees and grabbing your thighs pulling you towards him. Your confused and baffled, feeling how dizzy you were from the rapid movements as he goes to pull off your shorts along with your underwear.

“Felix get off of me what the fuck are you do-

You felt how embarrassingly wet you were, feeling vulnerable under Felixs unreadable face.

He lowers his face towards your wet pussy, the warm gush of air making you shiver as he finally lets his tongue gently lay across your swollen clit. You gasp, head falling to the ground as Felix gently sucked and nibbled at your sensitive bud.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, the blood flowing throughout your veins, making the beats in your heart beat faster as you unconsciously moan out. He grins, letting you grind into his face feeling the cold sensation of his tongue jewellery, create a cooling sensation on your cunt.

He’s slurping, lapping at your juices and letting out guttural moans, sending vibrations against your clit. He briefly looks up making eye contact with your starstruck eyes as he allows his thumb to gently circle around your bud.

He’s sensual and voluptuous almost making out with your leaking cunt as you try to stay quiet muttering curse words and praises hand, tangled into his greasy hair. You felt painful cramping restricting around your stomach, trying to distract the pain with the pleasurable sensation you were experiencing.

Felix stops for a second coming back up to see his face covered in your juices mixed in with your blood, the feeling dawned on you that it was your period blood on his face and you felt your face heat up as the embarrassment began to bubble in your chest. His finger slides between your folds before slipping it into his mouth, your laid there in shock as you watch how he moans around his fingers.

As if normal he resumes, eating you out more ferociously than before. “y-your fucking insane Felix fuckkkk”

He hums, letting his fingers rub your clit faster as you feel the intense feeling of an orgasm hit you before your slump on the ground, face flushed and mouth gaped open.

He comes back up with blood all over his face and a shit eating grin, “looks like someone’s lost for words”

“Fuck off Felix” your grinding into his hand and he chuckles licking his lips clean, “Seems like someone’s still desperate for my touch I thought you hated me princess ”

“I do hate you the only good thing about you is your tongue” you reply, going to stand up before he pushes you down.

“Since I’m only good for my tongue let’s see how fucking cock drunk you get for me, maybe it will change that bratty attitude” he sets himself beside you, sliding off his briefs before revealing his girthy curved cock, his tip scarlet red and leaking precum.

“Are you going to sit on it or not because I can just go and you can use your fucking hand to get off” your pissed but too aroused to fucking argue, climbing onto his lap and straddling over his tip before completely bottoming out on it. You both gasp slowly, feeling his hands go to grasp your ass before you begin to bounce on it.

You keep a set pace, grinding and vigorously bouncing on him, your hands wrapping around his neck. He invites you into a heated kiss, the taste of your period blood having a addicting sweet metallicy taste mixing in with your bitter tobacco taste.

The grunts and moans, emit from his chapped lips as he slaps your ass with a tight grip. “Look at you so eager to bounce on my fucking dick and I’m the fucking slut” you moan in response, your nails digging into his back leaving moon shaped crescents behind as you scratch and abuse his back.

Your panting feeling the fatigue hit you as he suddenly stops you, “Turn around and face the pond” you stop, turning around as he slips himself back inside you, making you gasp once again. He’s locked your arms with his hand and begins to bounce you on him making your head roll back into him, moaning feverishly the sounds of his harsh thrusts being heard from across the garden.

You feel his hand wrap around your neck pulling your head against his as he nibbles at your ear, “you should see how fucking sexy you look from here….so….fucking….pretty” he thrusts with every word so cock drunk for your brain to comprehend not caring if you could get caught fucking out in the open.

“I bet your wishing that someone would catch us out in the open as I fuck the shit out of you” he mutters, feeling his bruised lips against your nape, leaving love bites all over marking you as his.

“oh my god fuck- felix I’m going to come” you warn, your hands going to grip his thighs, feeling yourself clenching around his dick before you cum with a loud whimper, the warm feeling of his spunk releasing into you as he slows down his thrusts.

“Fuck babe you’ve made such a mess all over me” your still panting, fatigue hitting you as your both sat in silence feeling his heart racing against your back.

You turn around meeting the brunettes gaze before speaking, “Don’t get use to it, this is the last time I’ll ever do anything remotely sexually with you Catton”

“Noted”

You raise a brow, dying for the burning question on your tongue to be answered, “Who told you i hated you”

He smirks, “Farleigh…. he told me when he was going through his drunken rant”

“I’m going to kill that boy when I see him”

#smut #felix catton #felix #saltburn #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #black reader #saltburn imagine #leiswxrld #leiscoven

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the-promise-has-been-made · 7 months

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Like with all Mike Flanagan shows, I have to sit and stew on The Fall of the House of Usher for a bit to let it fully settle, and then I'll probably have to rewatch it to get the full picture.

But what I can say now after the first watch has sat with me for 2 days is that compared to Hill House which dealt with grief, Bly Manor which dealt with love, and Midnight Mass which dealt with faith, House of Usher for me dealt with consequences. Madeline and Roderick were offered the deal that they could basically do whatever the heck they wanted, and all the consequences of their horrible actions would not be suffered by them. Which is essentially what capitalist super-rich experience all the time - and we, the ordinary people, suffer the consequences. It's funny that they thought it worked like that, but I guess they saw their father who suffered no consequences for abuse and for mistreating their mother whom he had ann affair with (if it even was that, and not rape) - but he did suffer consequences, he was strangeled to death by a dead woman. And Griswold, who seemingly suffered no consequences for his fraud and the many crimes of his company, except he did - he was literally cask of Amontillado'ed which is honestly the funniest thing! But for the Ushers, the consequences were suffered not just by the anonymous masses, not just by the thousands upon thousands that suffered and died because of their actions (powerfully depicted by the rain of bodies Verna showed Roderick in their meeting in his tower) and not by Madeline nd Roderick themselves, but very directly, very brutally, by their own children - who all in the span of a few days were driven insane and horrifically killed. They were offered this deal, and while Madeline had no children and made sure afterwards that she never would, Roderick already had two children by that point. He signed that deal not for some hypothetical children he might have, but for Frederick and Tammerlane who were already alive then, and for his 4 as of yet unborn children! They barely hesitated. The Ushers TOOK that choice away from their children, they doomed these children before they were even born. And they doomed even their grandchild before she was born. If that doesn't show the crippling consequences of actions we take today, I don't know what does. Every decision the rich and powerful make today has devastatign consequences for generations to come - not hypothetical, but very real and very dire consequences. But these people don't care about that, because it's not consequences they suffer NOW, so it's not their problem. The Ushers are charicaturized representations of that mindset, their children representations of the generations of people fucked over by their decisions. That's why I am torn between feeling glee at the bizarre demise each of the Usher children met (cause let's face it, they were all assholes and messed up) and at the same time feel immense pity for them (because the fact that they were assholes and messed up was almost not their fault but a product of growing up under the trauma Roderick and Madeleine suffered when they were children, and in a mindset where they genuinely believed being richer than God made them immune to cosequence, and because their fate had been decided for them without their knowledge).

But also, Verna gave EACH of these kids an option. They were all going to die, sure, but they were given the choice to do the right thing. Prospero was offered the chance to end his orgy and his filming of incriminating material but he chose to continue. Camille was offered the chance to turn around and go home and instead die peacefully in her sleep. Napoleon was offered the chance not to lie to his boyfriend and bring a fake 'cat' home, and instead go home, sober up, get his shit together, be honest about his fuck-ups. But he didn't. Victorine was offered the chance to say 'no, this treatment is not ready for human testing' but instead she deceived what she believed to be an innocent, desperate woman into essentially signing away her life. Tammerlane could have stopped her jealousy, her envy, and instead reach out to her husband, actually communicate, actually appreciate him, but she didn't. And Frederick, well, Verna spelled it out for him, didn't she? He had to bring her home, he had to bring out the pliers. He CHOSE to abuse and brutalize and mutilate his wife when she was completely defenseless, helpless, and innocent - yes she had gone to the orgy because she felt unappreciated, unseen, and nothing actually happened, she didn't cheat, her only 'crime' was chosing to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He chose to be a monster to her and to their child. All of them could have stopped, could have chosen to reflect on their actions and be better, do BETTER. Instead, they doubled down on their horrific behaviour, and sealed their own fate. All except Lenore, who until the very end chose to be good, chose to be kind, chose to see the best in people. That's why she was the only one to whom Verna appeared with kindness, giving her the certainty that her life mattered, that her sacrifice would save thousands, that her mother would do incredibly good in her name in the future, and she did not die with horror and suffering, she died peaceful, quick, quiet, like Verna had offered all the others. Verna was not so much a demon as she was the personification of "actions, meet consequences".

TLDR: The Fall of the House of Usher is the hardcore version of 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes' and will for me be part of the 'rich people actually suffer consequences for their shitty actions' cinematic universe.

#The Fall of the House of Usher #The Fall of the House of Usher spoilers #major spoilers #so many spoilers #the 'rich people meet consequences' cinematic universe

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wynnyfryd · 4 months

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?”

It is.

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie.

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors.

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams.

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve—

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again.

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame?

Yeah.

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross.

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.”

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant.

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first.

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud.

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

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flanaganfilm · 2 months

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howdy!! do you rewatch your own work? if so, how often? im wondering if it has the same "artist just sees faults with what they create" thing, or if youre able to appreciate past projects the way they deserve

I don't, typically... usually, by the time we're finished with post production, I've seen the thing so many times that I'm thrilled to stop watching it. I'm either sick of it, or just feeling like it doesn't belong to me anymore. There are other reasons, too - Hill House was a traumatic production for me, for example, I have a lot of complicated emotions woven into it, so I haven't felt ready to rewatch that one since before it aired. Maybe in a few more years.

Somewhat recently, I've revisited a few of the older movies with my eldest son, who is 13 now. He's basically as old as my career itself. We've watched Oculus, Hush, The Midnight Club (which he LOVED, proving it worked for our target audience) and Ouija: OOE together, and each of those screenings was a really cool experience. His reactions and questions were really fascinating, and I felt like I was able to see those movies anew through his eyes. That's the closest I've come to feeling like I was really seeing them, and that's only because so much time has gone by for those. I watched the Director's Cut of Doctor Sleep a few years back at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park Colorado. It was part of a live NoSleep Podcast event, and that was the first time I'd seen that movie since it was released. It was also the first and only time I'd ever seen the Director's Cut with an audience. That was a really special screening and it meant a lot to me.

I haven't yet had the guts to revisit any of the TV series other than Midnight Club. As my kids get older, I'm sure I'll watch them all with them. The one I'm most excited to see is Midnight Mass, which remains my favorite of the shows. I haven't seen it since before it came out - I remember the last day of post on that show, watching down each episode with final mix and color. That's a series I wish I could actually watch like a viewer at home, and while I'll never truly be able to do that, I look forward to looking at it with some real distance.

There are a few of the older projects I'd be curious to watch now. I wonder how Absentia holds up - I was such a baby when we made that movie, and it's been so long. I imagine I could watch that today and have a really trippy experience. I also haven't revisited Before I Wake in a very long time, and I always really loved that script. The movie was a rough road, and my feelings were mixed by the time it finally found its finish line (Relativity Media really beat that one up), but that could also be a really interesting viewing experience at this stage of my career.

But generally, each of these movies is a journey, and once the journey is over it's tough to ever really go back. There's little point, and moving forward feels like a matter of survival. The "finished product" is only the tip of a large, deep, labyrinthian iceberg for me. It's impossible to only see what's on the surface, no matter how hard I try.

(Interesting side-note: The only exception I've found to this rule is The Life of Chuck. We just finished post production on the movie, and I've watched it dozens and dozens of times now - but I've never grown tired of it, not even a little bit. That movie is something special, and I am eager to watch it again - and again - and again. I don't know that I'll ever want distance from that one; in fact, watching it brings me a sense of joy, comfort, and safety.)

#midnight mass #the fall of the house of usher #the haunting of hill house #the midnight club #doctor sleep #the haunting of bly manor #ouija origin of evil #oculus #before i wake #absentia #ouija: origin of evil #gerald's game

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honeyed-hedonist · 28 days

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Parings: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 2.2k Summary: You and Jason spend some quality time together on a balmy summer night amongst the flora and fauna. Things quickly heat up, as they so often do when the two of you are together. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. fingering, foul language, Jason being stupidly strong and handsome and hot and hshsaksjfkhf!! A/N: Hi hello! Since my old blog got deleted (I'm still not over it. Ten+ years of work and building up a following gone down the drain), I've decided to start reposting my old stuff here. This one used to be called Sweet Bitter, but I decided to change the name. ENJOY!

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

There’s something about the way the moonlight casts a silvery glow to your eyes, how it turns your dewy skin a pearlescent shade of indigo, that has Jason punch drunk, lips parted in silent awe while he watches you take in the scenery. You look ethereal, a goddess come down from heaven to fill the cracks in his soul with liquid gold until he’s overflowing—and fuck, he’s never been more in love with you than he is right now.

The midnight air is ripe with honeyed blossoms and earthy moss, a symphony of buzzing cicadas fills the silence as a balmy breeze tousles a few loose strands of your hair around your face. It has him reaching out to tuck them behind your ear, pulling your focus from the lush greenery around you to his glittering blue eyes instead.

Jason gives you a lazy grin, the kind that makes your stomach flutter, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw before he settles back on his elbows across the blanket and your gaze lifts skyward. You’ve never seen so many stars before—the light pollution in Gotham almost blots out the moon most nights, and you want to commit this view to memory, to remember every twinkling ball of starlight scattered across the charcoal sky.

“How’d you find this place?” You murmur softly, fingers curling around the hem of your sundress, picking at the edge idly.

“Ivy owed me a favor.” Jason answers, laughing when your head whips around to look at him.

“This is Poison Ivy’s garden?” You hiss, eyebrows knitted together, and he laughs harder, his palm cupping your knee as he gives you a gentle shake.

“Relax, baby,” he teases, laughter still bubbling up in his throat. It makes his voice a little raspier, a little more gruff, and with it your pulse spikes, because goddamn if little things like that don’t turn you to mush. “There’s nothing poisonous here, I promise.”

You give him a skeptical look, but it quickly melts away into a smile that makes Jason’s throat tight with emotion. Yeah, he’s in deep, tilting back a swig of his beer in hopes that it’ll hide the heat that’s coloring his cheeks rosy. It doesn’t, your smile turning cheshire when you snatch the bottle from his hands and neck back what’s left.

His face turns sour, glaring at you while he folds those thick arms across his chest, his t-shirt struggling to contain the sheer mass of him, the cotton stretched to its limit. The sight has your cheeks warming, mouth going dry, because it should be fucking illegal to look like that. “I was drinking that, brat.” Jason chides, and you answer with a flick of your tongue past your lips, blowing a raspberry at him.

“Sucks to suck, I guess.” You retort, lifting your eyes back towards the sky, the distraction providing a perfect opportunity for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist and haul you onto his lap.

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jason is strong, he’s built like a brick shithouse—an absolute unit of a man from head to toe, and yet it still catches you off guard every single time he flaunts that strength. Like all of those early mornings when he’s just gotten home from patrol while you’re getting ready for work and he can’t help but lift you into his arms to fuck you in the shower, or those hazy nights when you’ve both had one too many and he’s got you folded in half against the brick wall of an alley, one hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you make while he turns you inside out with the slow drag of his cock.

Your reaction is always the same though, an excitable giggle slipping out from behind your teeth as your hands settle on his shoulders, only this time your legs are spread open to accommodate the width of his stocky thighs. You bite your lip, and Jason’s bravado slips, if only for a moment, as his eyes track the movement, blood immediately rushing to his dick and—shit, why the fuck did he wear jeans tonight?

“Wanna say that again?” He goads, cocking his head to the side, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips until you squeal, wriggling around on his lap in an attempt to flee. “Nuh uh, you’re goin’ nowhere, baby.” Jason taunts you, his arms locking around your back, pulling you in until you’re chest to chest.

It’s a wonder, he thinks, gazing at you through hooded eyes, how he ever manages to keep his hands off of you in the first place, how the two of you even make it out of your bedroom. Someone should give him a goddamn medal or something, because it takes more self control than he’s used to practicing—resisting the urge he has to tear your shit up every minute of every day.

And that’s without mentioning how you look tonight, sprawled out on top of him in that little scrap of fabric you call a sundress, the hem riding up the tops of your buttery thighs, exposing the barest hint of your core, pussy lips peeking out from behind those lacy panties you’re sporting—taunting him, begging for the kind of attention he’s all too happy to supply.

You let your hands roam, gliding across the tops of his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, fingertips snaking up through his hair, the longer pieces curling in the sticky, nighttime summer heat. “You got that much right, at least.” You tell him, because even though you’re more composed about it, you’re still just as lovesick as he is.

“Sweet talkin’ me isn’t gonna make me forget your little comment,” Jason muses, palms dragging up the outsides of your thighs until his fingers disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, thumbs rubbing heated circles into the skin, “but I’ll let you make it until we get home.”

A promise for later.

His hands travel higher still, dipping under the lace stretched thinly at the apex of your thighs. He drags them inward, tugging the sodden material away from your slit, the rough pads of his fingertips tracing the crease where your legs meet your cunt. You keep your eyes fixed on his, hiccuping a soft breath in because you know exactly what he’s thinking when he leans in, nose skimming across your jaw and up until his breath is cooling against the shell of your ear.

“Wore this thing just to torture me, didn’t you? Been flashing me these pretty little panties all night. Think you’re so clever, hm?” You puff out a shaky breath, nodding softly, your hair tickling Jason’s face. “Shame m’gonna ruin ‘em.” His fingers curl and pull, ripping at the delicate lace until it tears apart and he pulls them clean off in one fell swoop, another pair of your underwear now lost to his impatience and show-boating.

Jason lets his tongue trace over your cartilage, teeth nipping at your earlobe until you shiver, a soft whimper forcing its way out of your mouth. “So proud of yourself, aren’t you? Got me all worked up—you and that smart fuckin’ mouth in this tiny fuckin’ dress. Know what m’gonna do now, baby?”

He cups your pussy and gives it a firm squeeze, pleased as punch when his palm is met with the oozing slick of your arousal, free hand trailing up your spine until he’s cradling the back of your head. It almost feels loving, and then he tightens that hand into a fist, tangling your hair as he yanks your head backwards, exposing the column of your throat to his eager mouth.

Plush lips latch onto your dewy skin until the blood vessels rupture while Jason runs his first two fingers over your slit, spreading you open, groaning at the heat he finds there. He knows exactly what it feels like to be swamped by that heat, wrapped up in molten velvet, and he ruts his hips up into you, cock straining beneath denim, the zipper catching on his sensitive head until he rips himself away to hiss.

“Gotta get you ready, yeah? Gonna fuck you dumb when we get home, princess. Fill you so full’a my cum that it’ll be leakin’ outta you ‘til tomorrow night.” Your answering moan makes him feral, growling as he hauls your mouth down to meet his in a kiss that’s wet and messy, no desire at all to make it pretty or sweet, and that suits you just fine.

Finally, Jason lets his fingers dredge through your folds, swiping over your clit, down to your hungry little hole, and back up—teasing you, feeling the way your sensitive pearl pulses under his touch. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, he groans, drunk off the taste of you, sweet as honeydew with a hint of bitter from the beer you stole. He hooks two digits inside you, swallowing the sound you make—shell shocked and breathy while he works you open until his palm is flat against your mons.

He keeps them there, deeply seated, and curls them against your gummy walls while your fingernails dig harshly into the meat of his biceps and you squeal. It’s too much—a sensory overload, barely any effort at all and you’re already wound so fucking tight, amazed by how quickly Jason can make you sprung. “Mhm,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips, hazy eyes bouncing between yours, “that’s my girl, lemme hear you. Know it feels good, baby, gonna make it all better just—fuck—just sit still for me, hm?”

Lust-drunk, you nod frantically, whining low in your throat as Jason begins to fuck you with his fingers, opening you up for a third that has you bouncing softly on his lap. Christ, he’s never seen you quite like this—so wild and free, wanton cries of pleasure drowning out the consonance of buzzing from the fireflies that flit through the air around you.

“Jay,” you pant, arching into him, pretty tits perched right in his face, nipples pebbled and peeking through the thin material of your dress, “fuck, s’good. Please—wan’ cum.” He bends forward to tongue at your tits, teeth catching on those perked little nubs, lavishing them with the attention they’re sorely missing. It makes your thighs quiver, his thumb joining in his efforts to shatter you right here and now, flicking tight and hard against your clit.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me, make it nice an’ messy.” He coos, the tone of his voice is almost mocking, but you’re far too lost in your pleasure to care. You’ll worry about what this means for the rest of your night later, right now all you care about is chasing the release that’s rising quickly and you to meet it.

The wet squelch of you pussy is music to Jason’s ears, his forearm burning from his efforts, fucking into you at a brutal pace while your walls flutter deliciously around his fingers. Leaning back a little, he untangles his hand from your hair and grips your jaw hard enough that it pulls your focus and you wince. “Eyes on me, baby.” He commands, desperate to watch the way you crumble for him—only for him.

Your orgasm crests and then crashes, rocketing you into bliss so sharp that you see stars, an imprint of the very same sky you were just gazing at not twenty minutes ago, your entire body quaking as he corrals you by your hip, anchors you flat atop his thighs while he works you through it. He can feel your cum rolling down his wrist, cooing and praising you with sweet words as he kitten licks the sweat gathered above your lips, across your chin, salty and earthy.

“Good fuckin’ girl. Cum so hard for me, look so goddamn beautiful, princess.” He murmurs, biting at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet while you ride out the final waves of pleasure, flexing out your fingers from where they were wedged into his arms.

Jason gives you a moment to breathe, gentle when he slips his fingers free from your swollen, gushy core. Bringing them up to his mouth, his tongue laps at the pearly droplets running down his arm, fingers webbed with your glistening release that he suckles greedily with a lascivious moan. The sound travels straight to your overworked clit, a gentle thrumming already starting up again as he cocks a brow at you and smirks, like he just knows.

“Better get you home, huh? Don’t think Ivy would take too kindly to us defiling her garden more than we already did.” You sock him square on his chest, and he laughs, pulling you close for another kiss that you smile into, cupping his face in your hands.

“Good idea,” You answer, the tip of your nose brushing his. “Apparently I have some apologizing to do. Sensitive little baby Jason Todd can’t handle a little ribbing.”

His smile widens, not bothering to call you on your jibe. “Damn right you do,” he says, lifting you off of his lap to start gathering your things. When he stands, he offers you his hand, and you slip your fingers between his—still damp from your pussy. Glancing down at you, Jason runs his tongue over his teeth and grins again, pulling you towards the path that leads out of the garden. “Plus you own me a beer.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #red hood #smut fic #smut writing

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moongreenlight · 7 months

Text

More on Soap and his f!demon!reader because you guys forced me like oooookay I get it you’re horny on main

Just kidding everything I do is for you. All you have to do is vaguely imply that you want something and I’m all over it baby anything you need.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Johnny’s demon who follows him everywhere after his first kill. Bound to him the moment the bullet left his chamber. A partnership of sorts. Cast into the pits and valleys of his soul. Gifted to him in the few intimate moments where the deafening blast of his rifle slowed time. Kept a secret even from him. A partnership between this world and the next. Quite literally a give and take. You sworn to him so long as he kept up his end of the bargain. Kill or be killed.

You stayed concealed in shadows for years. Flitting from corner to corner to make sure you always had an eye on him. Silently coaching him through little whispers carried to his ears on the wind. Watching him grow as a soldier under your care. Honing and refining his skill as you saw fit. Leaning your chin just over his shoulder during missions. Voice leading him through to victory like siren song.

Protecting him when it was necessary. Wrapping your big wings around him to shield him from an onslaught of bullets. Leaving his side only for a moment to gore a sniper with their sights on him with your blackbuck horns. Curling your fingers around his to force the trigger of his pistol back if he hesitated and put himself in danger.

It was a bit dirty in principle. Like forging his signature on the deed that signed his soul over to the devil, but he didn’t seem to mind. The cost of invincibility coming at a relatively low price all things considered. The only drawback was his ego. Sizable before, now bloated into something almost grotesque. Cocksure and arrogant but not without his charms.

Not to mention, you’d almost taken a liking to Johnny in your time together. Like a parasite slowly becoming fond of their host. He keeps you fed. Bringing you with him to the field, letting you gorge yourself on blood and carnage and pain until all you can do is drape yourself over his broad shoulders and lazily flick your magic around when it’s required. And he’s decently entertaining for a mortal. Has to be the best company you’ve been forced to keep in at least a few hundred years.

Though you found yourself getting increasingly irritated each time he came home from a mission and thanked God of all people. Letting him pick up a few more scrapes and bruises than you usually would on his missions after that whole bit started. Each murmured ‘Thank you’ making you hiss and howl down at him from your perch in the shadows. Wanting to show him just who he should be thanking for his survival.

Tired of his baseless belief and wanting to teach him a lesson on saying thank you; you revealed your human form to him during midnight mass on Christmas Day. Can’t say you didn’t have a sense of humor.

You sat alone in the pews. Feeling when he entered the church minutes after you. Skin erupting into goosebumps, hair standing on end, a heat starting under your skin like you’d been dropped into a pot of water being slowly brought to a boil. You watched from the corner of your eye as he and his family slowly made their way down the rows of pews, finding yours was the only one with enough room to hold the lot of them together. It all seemed too perfect when you and Johnny ended up knee-to-knee.

You felt his energy shift. He could feel you as much as you could feel him, but the sensation was foreign to him. The same discomfort you’d been plunged into when you took your human form. Trying to cooly fold the sleeves of his dress shirt up at his elbows and seem attentive to his mother who was harping on him about his hair up until the moment the priest stepped to the pulpit.

You didn’t get a chance at him until the congregation was finally prompted to greet one another. Some love your neighbor nonsense.

Johnny turned to you immediately. Standing from his pew with the rest of the crowd. Unable to sit still in such discomfort. His skin hot as yours. Buzzing just under the surface like he was inches away from a live wire.

You blinked up at him through thick lashes, wetting your lips with a flick of your tongue before pushing to your feet. Letting him shift his weight for a few more moments as you looked him over.

Standing in front of him, he dwarfed you. Always had- but especially now when you didn’t have your wings or horns to compensate. Not the tallest in the room, but carried himself like he was. Chest puffed out, arms subtly flexed by his sides, dress shirt hugging his muscled form just right.

He stuck a hand out. Brow cocked as he sized you up with glittering blue eyes.

“Peace be with you.”

He spoke first. You fitted your hand in his. Barely blinking when the meeting of your skin elicited something like a static shock. Relieving both of you from your discomfort.

“And with your spirit.”

You responded through a coy smile. He looked reluctant to take his arm back. The shock hadn’t deterred him. Instead he wrapped his fingers all the way around your hand, hanging on to you for a beat longer than was necessary.

“Alone on Christmas?”

He still didn’t let go of your hand. A sharp smile. Almost predatory.

“Nobody to spend it with.”

You shrugged, still gazing up at him with big doe eyes. Finally allowing your hand to drop from his and immediately feeling pins and needles in the absence of his touch.

“Don’t believe that for a minute.”

You caught his knee inching toward yours on more than one occasion as the mass carried on. Like he was testing the waters to see if you were truly the reprive he was seeking. Fidgeting slightly where he sat. Teeth clicking softly as he ground them. Cracking his knuckles. Clenching and unclenching his jaw. Shifting his hips slightly forward on the bench. To his credit, he showed an impressive amount of restraint. Never touching you. Not that it would have done much through his trousers.

The one true pitfall of your being bound to his soul. Forgotten until now in its seeming insignificance. It was near agony for the both of you when you took human form. Like your life force being torn in two and dangled temptingly close but just out of arm’s reach. A kind of pain that didn’t need to land blows on either of your physicalities. Felt divinely through each you. Not used to being separated, you had an almost instinctual need to be together. You’d known beforehand and he seemed to be picking up on it quickly. Skin needed to touch skin in order to provide either one of you any relief. Give both of your spirits space to knit themselves back together.

For being so tightly braided in the fibers of his being, you found it almost shocking that you hadn’t noticed how desperate he could be when he was looking for release. Body tense in his increased discomfort. No doubt grappling with the effects of your separation. Sweat beading at the back of his neck. Tugging at the collar of his dress shirt. Bouncing his knee. Looking up toward the rafters before fixing his gaze on you in an attempt to pass it off as a sweep of the room. The way he brushed your arm reaching over you for a bible nestled in a pocket just in front of you. Making contact with your exposed skin for a fraction of a second and nearly whining when the both of you felt your unease settle for a fleeting moment.

Trying to push up against you when you were down on the kneelers, murmuring a clipped apology each time. Still somehow finding time to rake his eyes over you. Nails digging little half-moons into the back of his hands where they were clasped in prayer.

On the tail end of the service, communion was given. You followed behind Johnny and his family. Just behind him like you had so many times before. His normal prowl substituted for a more casual saunter. Subduing his ego for something a bit more reserved in the presence of not only his family but also the good lord. Nodding his thanks as he took his bread and wine. You had to fight back the distasteful curl of your lip at the motion. Even now he was thanking God.

You saw the way he tried to casually turn his gaze back to you when you stepped up to take your Eucharist. Tongue laid out flat and long, head tipped back a few degrees. Intentionally pornographic in your acceptance of the wafer. Nearly tripping over his feet when he caught you staring straight back to him. You made a show of pulling your tongue back into your mouth, your best attempt at a demure smile curving your lips.

He tailed you closely on your march out of the church. You lingering on the walkway. Seeing the way his eyes flicked back to you as he walked his parents to their car. Mother still going on about something or the other. He needed to visit more or he needed a proper haircut or he needed to call more. He cut her off with a kiss on the cheek before closing the car door. Shook his father’s hand. And as expected, crossed the parking lot quickly to get back to you. Grinning wolfishly as he saw you stood with your winter coat folded neatly over your arms pretending to look around for who knew what.

“Still alone, are we?”

He queried, standing in front of you, folding his arms over his chest. You didn’t miss the way he flexed just barely, making the dress shirt bite into his bicep.

“You worried about me?”

You cocked your head slightly to the side, chewing the inside of your lip to dilute the smile threatening to curl your lips.

“Ken I oughta be, pretty lass like you.”

He chuckled softly, blue eyes glittering under the warm glow of the lights outside the church.

“Aren’t you sweet.”

You deadpanned.

“You’ve got no idea.”

He’s used to getting what he wants, that ego of his. And you’d made the mistake of not outlining exactly how quickly you’d play into his game beforehand. Mind now clouded from not being with him. Walls came crumbling down embarrassingly quick.

He’d somehow persuaded you to let him give you a lift back to his place. You making up some excuse about not being from the area, staying with a friend who must have fallen asleep instead of picking you up after church. Somehow allowed him to keep his hand fixed on the small of your back up two flights of stairs to his flat. Somehow wound up with a tumbler of whiskey in your hand, pushed onto the couch with Johnny sandwiching you against the arm.

Awfully smart for a mortal man. Figured out what it took to keep him comfortable and ran with it. His fingertips ghosting along the hem of your dress. Delighting in the goosebumps both of you got when he brushed your skin with his. The insatiable heat crackling within each of you dying down each time only to be fanned with a renewed fervor when he drew back. Eventually settling on not pulling away at all. Resting his hand on the top of your thigh, running the fabric of your dress between a few fingers. Careful to keep his palm flat against you. Infuriatingly comfortable with you seeing as you were a complete stranger to him. Chatting like the two of you were old friends. Flirting like you had done this time and time again.

He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Couldn’t be arsed to play the fool and try and skirt around the subject. A dog after a bone, really. Practically drooling over you as you made idle chitchat. And the worst part was that it was working. You’d try to blame it on your addled state. Not in your right mind. Only you knew how flimsy those excuses were. Trying to curb his advances with little success. Trying to keep the ball in your court.

You were still looking to assign blame to something when he grabbed your hips and tugged you under him on the couch. Circumstance. Mindset. Whiskey. Church. God. You couldn’t even remember what the two of you had been talking about. Something insignificant. Very well could have been the weather. You had a feeling it didn’t really matter.

Hovering over you close enough to feel his feverish heat all over. His knee forcing its way between your legs like he felt some kind of right. Using his big paws, still clamped around your hips to grind you against his thigh. A sharp laugh when you tried to hide the soft mewls that bubbled up inside you.

You felt smaller than you had in eons. Not used to being jerked about. Reduced to something resembling a true human under Johnny’s touch. Not having been material for centuries would do that, you supposed. No room to think about the needs of your physical body if it’s something that’s been shelved until now. And- fuck. It’s like somehow your body had found room to store up thousands of years of repression. Bursting at the seams. Somehow, the heat in your belly rivaled that of being separated from him. A feeling that couldn’t be sated like your bloodlust. Like a hunger that could claw its way up out of you if left untreated.

He was grinning at you like the cat that ate the fucking canary. Properly giddy. Tickled with himself for snatching you up. You wanted to snap at him. Hiss and spit like you had when he’d thanked God instead of you after a mission. Remind him that he wasn’t the hero he thought he was because this was all part of your plan, but the words died in your throat.

“Jesus. Thought you’d be a good girl. Meetin’ you in a church and all.”

His voice wasn’t doing anything to help your case. Nearly sending you feral under him. Unable to help the wetness gathering at your sex. You tried to press your thighs together. To buck his hands off of you, but it only made him snap his teeth in your face. His fingers bit in just a touch harder, pressing you down into the couch.

“Thought you said you were sweet.”

You bit back, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Dinnae know s’what you wanted. Don’t seem like it.”

“Funny.”

You shot back, voice a bit more obviously breathless than you would have liked. He’d let go of your hips, leaving you to grind yourself against the muscle of his thigh that was pressed tightly against you. He looked down, watching the way you moved. Whining at the sight. You were much too lost in your mind to notice the small damp spot that was forming on the leg of his trousers. Rolling your hips lazily against him.

“You like funny? Cunt get this wet for any funny bastard that comes along?”

You couldn’t muffle the high keening sound that tore from your throat in time. His filthy words taking you by surprise. Blinking rapidly and making a vain effort to still your hips, but he was quick to the kill. Snorting a laugh and tugging you up off the couch. Bullying you down the short hallway and into his bedroom. Walking you backwards using his legs to guide you. Puffed-out chest knocking you in the direction he wanted, kicking at your feet if you were going to run into the wall or a corner. Herding you like some sort of farm dog. There was a nasty look in his eyes now that you weren’t touching anymore. Even a few seconds apart seemed too much.

He shoved you backward onto the bed, not giving you time to adjust the awkward angle at which you’d landed before he was knelt before you on the ground. Yanking you forward by the backs of your knees which caused your dress to bunch at your hips. Leaving your dripping sex exposed to him. The thin panties doing little to hide your arousal. You yipped softly, trying to twist away from him. Give yourself the high ground, but he wasn’t having it.

He wasn’t the light, arrogant, charming Johnny you’d seen before. Nor was he the dark, rough operator you’d seen him be on the field. This was something different entirely. He looked like a predator that had finally caught some elusive prey. A flash of his teeth through an infuriatingly smug smile. Eyes raking you over like he was about to tear into you. It made something deep within you coil tightly. The heat in your belly now at a roaring boil. Your plan long forgotten. Lost somewhere to swirl among the fog that took over your mind.

Given the animosity he was exuding, he took his sweet time warming you up. Kissing, nipping, sucking, licking his way up your legs. From knee to hip on both sides. Leaving small, dark marks on your skin. Marking his territory. Panting softly over your barely clothed cunt. You making your situation even worse when you twitched and mewled softly under him. Cheeks burning a deep scarlet.

It was entirely too much and somehow not enough. The visual of him knelt between your legs that were hanging off the bed. His artful way of touching you. Your thundering heartbeat and the blood rushing in your ears. It nearly pushed you over the edge without him even needing to touch you.

He was a dog pulling on a taught leash. Doing everything he could to restrain himself. His breathing was ragged. Eyes steely. Pupils blown out. Unable to look away from the damp spot on your panties. Humming his approval at the sight. Working his calloused fingers under the fabric and guiding them down your legs. His muscles were tense, impossibly so, threatening to burst the seams of his shirt. Swallowing hard when he finally got a look at your drooling pussy.

“Jesus, bonnie. Fuckin’ perfect.”

He shifted slightly on his knees. Cock pressing uncomfortably hard against his pants. The muscles in his jaw twitched slightly. Sat stilled for a moment with his hands at your thighs with a white-knuckle grip.

You whined. A choked sound. Trying to squirm out of his eyesight. A bit uncomfortable being ogled. This sent him back into action, strong hands yanking you back toward him. Snapping his teeth in your face in warning.

He then spent more time working you out. Like he had nothing else he’d rather be doing. His mouth hot and wet. Touching anywhere but your clit out of some torturous principle. Spreading you open with his thumbs. Lolling out his tongue and allowing drool to drip down off it and add to your gathering slick. Blowing cool air on you. Watching your every twitch and shake with lust-glazed eyes that somehow seemed more attentive than normal. Committing you to memory.

You were nearly in tears. He’d ruined your plan. Turned you from an all powerful being into some shivering, whimpering thing. Overstimulated without him needing to wreck you with an orgasm. Sweating and whining and yelping at his touch. Trying to tangle your fingers in his hair and jerk him closer, but he just swatted your hands away or sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh to shut you up. Unable to be put off of his path even after you’d stooped well below your status and managed to ask nicely a few times.

And when he finally, fucking finally, showed you a bit of mercy; he only sunk one finger into you. Enough to make you let out a low, throaty growl, but not enough to satisfy you. He pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. Biting his lip and panting as he watched the way your drooling cunt swallowed him so perfectly. You tried to roll your hips into him like you had on the couch. Tried to grind into his knuckles to give your swollen clit some friction, but he rewarded your efforts with a mean slap on the leg. It took you by surprise. Pain like that- physical pain- had been so rare that it made you cry out and jerk your head up to stare at him wide eyed and open mouthed.

“Yer gettin’ bratty. Take what I give you.”

He shrugged, still unable to tear his eyes away from where you were clenched around him. Though he didn’t bother hiding the smug smile he was sporting.

“N-not enough. More.”

You whined, tossing your head back onto the mattress.

“Hell of a way to say thank you.”

He chided, tutting his tongue softly.

“You’re out of your mind if-“

He put a quick stop to your impending tirade by stuffing you full with another finger. A soft squelching sound as he began to pump faster that sent you reeling. Unable to form a coherent thought, you were left to fall apart on his bed. Legs hanging lamely off the edge as he had his way with your cunt. Treating it like you weren’t even there. Cooing pure filthy words of admiration to your sweet cunt. Pinching around your clit for a moment before sliding back down to hold you open between the index and middle fingers of his free hand.

Fuck. So pretty. Look how she sucks me in, mm? Needy thing. Never been treated this good? Need‘ta get you ready, yeah? Bet she’ll be prettier all stretched out.

By this point, you were sobbing. Fat tears rolling down your cheeks and creating little stains on the comforter on either side of your head. Rolling down your neck. Something coiled so tightly under your belly that you were certain you would implode. Turn yourself inside out before he ever granted you release. Pained and overstimulated and under-stimulated all at once. Rendering you useless in doing anything other than moaning and fisting the sheets weakly in your hands.

He stayed like this for a few minutes, until he could tell that you were getting pushed to your breaking point. Working up his pace. Curling his fingers more and more. Letting his breath fan you. Still uttering filth like it was prayer. Fucking reverent. Slowly adding drops of water to a reservoir until the dam burst. It sent you careening over the edge when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit and gave a gentle suck. Lewd, wet noises coming from the both of you. It took all of a few seconds for you to reach your orgasm. Whatever had been furled tightly within you finally snapping and exploding outwards. Wiping your mind clean. Only allowing you to focus on your release. Walls clenching and spasming around his fingers that did not relent. Crying out and moaning and gasping much louder than you’d meant. Clapping a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. Bucking your hips up into him and re-starting the entire process when your now hypersensitive clit grazed his teeth or tongue.

He stayed latched on to you for much longer than was appropriate. Lapping up as much of your spend as he could. Working his fingers into you well past the point of exhaustion. Keeping you spread open and on his view the entire way. Paying no mind to the way his knees began to object to his position or how tight his cock was pressed against his pants. Obsessed with the way your body reacted to him. Obsessed with your pleasure.

It felt like he was trying to make you come completely undone. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until you were nothing but a puddle on the bed. He spared you no mercy when he finally pushed himself to his feet. Hands flying to his belt and tearing it off. Too impatient be bothered to shed his trousers completely, opting to tuck the waistband just under his heavy balls. Shucking your dress up over your head. Using the slick gathered on his hands to lubricate his cock before he started fucking into his hand.

His leaking tip bumped against your clit each time he thrusted forward, sending you spiraling. Seeing stars. And now that he was certain he’d gotten you to come, it seemed the only thing he could focus on was his own orgasm. Yanking off his dress shirt with one hand. Working his needy mouth across your chest, up your neck, over your jaw until finally he met your lips. Leaving a slick trail of spit in his wake. Meeting your mouth with such a desperation that your teeth bumped together. His tongue sloppily working it’s way past your lips and further into your mouth.

He continued to fuck into his hands, eyes rolling back each time he brushed against you. Hypersensitive by nature, amplified a thousand times by the throbbing hardness of his cock. Dipping into you just a centimeter at a time. Driving the both of you insane. The scalding heat of his skin pressed flush against yours. The taste of yourself still on his mouth and chin. Sweat on sweat. Your head spinning. Mind still clouded with blinding pleasure. You wanted to tear him to shreds. So frustrated with him and his effect on you. Ruining your plans. Like he’d taken a seam ripper to your edges and was pulling you apart without even needing to try.

He hummed something filthy that you couldn’t quite make out. Sound muffled by the blood thundering through your ears. Letting out something that resembled a scream when he finally sheathed his cock deep within your walls. No longer satisfied with the stimulation of his hand. Bottoming out on his first thrust. Finally slipping himself out of the collar that was choking him in his rabid attempt to bury himself in you. He gave you no time to adjust to his girth, and you found yourself truly connecting the dots as to why he was so insistent on stretching you out with his fingers and loosening you up with multiple orgasms.

Your back arching impossibly further up into him. His sweat-slick forehead pressed hard against yours. Noses bumping together as he set a punishing pace humping into you. His eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Groaning and whining about how good you felt around him. He was beating hard against your cervix. White-hot pain popped spots behind your eyes. Your body trying to adjust to the feeling of him buried so deep.

“Fuckin’ perfect. Takin’ me so good.”

His tone was stuck somewhere resembling a growl. Rumbling so low you swore you could feel it in in your chest. Teeth clenched. Huffing in sharp breaths as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly. All you could do was mewl and cry under him in response.

He reached his orgasm relatively quickly, burying impossibly deeper into you when he finally came. His face buried into the crook of your neck, teeth sunk into your collarbone. It irritated you that he didn’t think to ask if he should pull out. But that was yet another boundary he didn’t seem to care for. Like he knew there was no way you could deny him. Like he felt that same entitlement to any part of you that he wanted. And honestly- that thought rang dauntingly true.

He thrust lazily into you, riding out his high before collapsing down next to you. Still sporting that infuriatingly smug grin. Fucking glowing. Tugging you over into his big arms and wrapping them around you. Tucking you under his chin and suffocating you with his smell. Sex and whiskey and cologne and incense. You hated that it worked to calm your aching body and mind.

“Oughta keep you around.”

He mused, chuckling breathlessly over you.

You simply hummed your response. Sighing sharply and resigning to the fact that revealing yourself to him at all may have been a mistake. You were at his service indefinitely.

#this took me forever to write because writing smut is so hard I kept having to take giggle breaks #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap x reader #John soap MacTavish smut #soap smut

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imagine-knb · 8 months

Note

The GoM have been busy for a while (it could be basketball, school, or something else). They finally check messages from their s/o. They've missed so many and the last one is asking if they want to break up so they can focus on basketball. How do they save their relationship?

Apologies are healthy ʅ(°ヮ°)ʃ Admin Neon

Kuroko

“Please let me make it up to you.” – he spends quite a bit of time texting you back, saying he’d like to meet you at your place to discuss what’s going on between the two of you

when he arrives at your door, Kuroko has a small bundle of your favorite flowers – he’s a gentleman, so of course he’s going to remember which sets are your favorite

spends a long time listening to all of your complaints and all of your retellings of times you’d felt alone because of him; when you finally finish, he’s misty eyed and apologetic

tries his best to make gaps in his schedule that he can dedicate to you, but sometimes messes up and double books himself – he always cancels the other thing to spend that time with you instead

Kise

absolutely the most dramatic about it when he sees you asking to break up – sends you a hundred texts, all of them some form of ‘why would you ask that?’, ‘no! never! not in a million years!’, ‘i love you, i don’t wanna break up!’

when you eventually call him to stop all his mass texts, he’s already crying on the other end of the line – had this been Teiko!Kise, he probably wouldn’t have cared and dropped you, but he’s not like that anymore; he’s grown, he’s matured, and he knows what love feels like now

is the type of boyfriend to say he will do anything to make it up to you and then actually tries his damned best to do it

you want to go on a date right after school tomorrow? sure, Kasamatsu’s going to beat his ass when he’s caught skipping practice, but it’ll be worth it

Aomine

it was a long day and he had not checked his phone all day, so by the time he saw your text, it was already midnight

he would never admit it, but Aomine had been watching too many romcoms recently, so he thought it was a great plan to just go over to your house right now and throw pebbles at your window

Aomine doesn’t care that you looked kind of miffed at the fact he’d woken you in the middle of the night – he tried to ignore the guilt he felt when he saw that it looked like you’d fell asleep crying

“I don’t want to break up with you.” – his voice was too loud for how quiet the night was – “Get down here and let me in. I’m spending the night here with you.”

Midorima

when he sees your text message, there is a small part of him that does wonder if he would be a little more stress free if he were single – he feels ashamed that the thought had even crossed his mind; he’d rather suffer unlucky days for all eternity than break up with you

calls you and asks you how he can fix this – is genuinely surprised when you seem mad that he has to ask, but deep down he knows you are right

with a heavy sigh, he switches tactics and asks if he could come over to your place – “I want to see you. I want to hold you.”

he uses the long walk over to your house to think of all the ways he would make it up to you, starting with all the ways he could show you how much you meant to him

Murasakibara

he texts you once – a simple ‘what do you mean ____-chin?’ – and doesn’t message anymore after that because he’s waiting for your response

is honestly not aware of what could be the problem, so he doesn’t think to message you again or call you, so the next time you guys interact is when he sees you in person at school

when he tries to act normally with you and you give him a bit of a cold shoulder, he finally starts to realize he’d done something to really piss you off

will keep trying to pull you into a hug and when you finally relent, he’ll murmur into your hair – “Just tell me what I’m doing wrong. I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

Akashi

first thing he is going to do after reading your text message is pause whatever he’s doing to call you – doesn’t matter if it’s practice, doesn’t matter if it’s dinner; he’s going to pause it and he’s going to call you

if you don’t answer, he leaves you a voicemail; if you do answer, he asks if the two of you could talk in person later that night

he does not elaborate any further – he honestly doesn’t think he has to – so he may have accidentally freaked you out with thoughts that he might want to breakup

Akashi is honestly shocked when you arrive already in tears because of your conclusion, but he quickly corrects your wrong assumptions and promises to block off more time for just the two of you in his busy schedule – “Let’s have some time together right now.”

#divider by @skylightlantern #gom #kuroko #kise #aomine #midorima #murasakibara #akashi #knb x reader

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wri0thesley · 1 year

Text

midnight musings - dottore x reader x pantalone (1.3k)

if they can agree on one thing, it is that you are most intoxicating asleep, when they can do whatever they want.

cw: somnophilia, drugged reader, dubious consent, talk of double penetration. reader is afab and wears a nighgown, but no gendered terms are used. dottore is himself. not sfw, minors dni.

[a/n: another little fic from my birthday random number generator kick! this one gave me dottore, pantalone and somnophilia. i am always a sucker for a harbinger fic!]

It’s hard for them to decide how they like you most.

The two of them have differing opinions on it. Dottore likes you a little tearful, or a little desperate - when he injects one of his many concoctions into the crook of your elbow and watches how it changes you. The way you start panting so prettily when it’s some kind of stimulant - the way you look up at him with your eyes blown wide and your lips wet. Pantalone likes you servile and obedient with your head bent at his knee, smiling prettily up at him when he says his name but otherwise being quiet and well-behaved aside from when he tells you to bend over his desk and let him work out his frustrations on the latest Northland Bank takings from Liyue.

As far as Harbingers go, Dottore and Pantalone work well together.

They are willing to work as one to achieve their goals, and those goals are not at odds with one another - a rarity amongst the Tsaritsa’s most trusted. Whilst the Harbingers loyalty to Her Majesty is unquestionable, there is no love lost between any of her lieutenants. But when it comes to Dottore and Pantalone . . .

Pantalone is all too happy to provide Mora to Dottore’s undertakings, as long as Dottore is willing to throw his power as the second ranked Harbinger behind Pantalone’s more governmental schemes. The two are willing to share conversation, offices - and sometimes even the bedroom.

Partly because in that bedroom is their most agreed upon treasure of all.

And too, it can be agreed upon, that you are utterly intoxicating when you sleep.

They come in weary from the night’s conversations to see you, sleeping peacefully atop the blankets covering Pantalone’s bed. It was agreed you would sleep in Pantalone’s chambers - Dottore’s are rather always a mess, the inner workings of a genius obvious in the mass of papers on every available surface, the constantly unmade bed, the vials and bottles and gears that scatter across his desk and bedside tables. Pantalone’s chambers in Zapolyarny Palace, by contrast, are rather more luxurious. A fire crackles in his hearth, his bed draped in bedspreads and blankets and furs - and the greatest of all treasures lies upon the bed in a diaphanous gown that does nothing to hide the tempting curve of your hip or spill of your breast beneath the fabric.

Pantalone lets out a soft sigh as he sees you. Dottore grins, his teeth sharp in the firelight.

“Such a pity to wake them up,” he says, as he stalks towards the bed and reaches out one gloved hand - his palm brushes across your cheek with the most gentleness that Dottore is capable of. You sigh prettily in your sleep, resting your cheek against him. “When they’re so peaceful like this.”

“Yes,” Pantalone agrees, humming low in the back of his throat as he comes to the other side of the bed and allows himself to sit upon the edge, sinking into the feather-stuffed mattress. His hand ghosts over your throat instead, following the curve to your collarbone and over the ripeness of your breast. His own hand brushes your nipple through the fabric, and you let out a deeper sigh this time, a soft little noise of satisfaction. Dottore chuckles.

“Ah, so needy even half-asleep,” he says, tracing your lips with his thumb. Unconsciously, your mouth opens, and Dottore takes the chance to insert the tip of that thumb between them. You murmur something softly beneath your breath before you suckle upon what Dottore has given you, and both men feel a stirring between their thighs, their cocks twitching as they imagine easing them into your sleeping mouth.

“Surely not the only place we’ll find wanting,” Pantalone says, quirking an eyebrow - and Dottore laughs again, the noise a little like a creaking gate. It is not the laugh of a sane man, but Pantalone has found that his presence and the promise of you has helped calm the Doctor’s fires just a little. His passions do not dim, so much as they find a new outlet - an outlet with a pretty mouth and a sweet treasure laying between their thighs just longing to be discovered and plundered.

They touch you for a little while longer. They cannot resist running hands over your hips, rucking up the hem of your nightgown until it rests above your breasts and your body is entirely on show for them. Pantalone’s fingers are slow and lingering - stroking over bare skin, tracing patterns that have you shivering in your sleep. Dottore is a little meaner - pinching your nipples when they are revealed, peaking in the cold air. He wins little whimpers from your mouth, a creasing of your forehead, a toss of your head . . . but you do not wake.

Pantalone always ensures that your nighttime hot chocolate - to keep you warm in the wilds of Snezhnaya, he says, with a smile on his face, and you have no reason to doubt him - features just enough of a soothing concoction pioneered by Dottore that you never awaken during these little night time play sessions.

You’re very lovely to have awake and reactive, responding to Dottore’s filthy murmurs and Pantalone’s praises . . . but there is something to be said, both Harbingers agree, to the silent acquiescence you give them whilst you sleep. You know exactly what is in your drink, of course - you have woken with love bites on your throat and stickiness between your thighs and two Harbingers sandwiching you between them enough times to make a guess - but you have no reason to fight it. Dottore especially can be . . . demanding. You have been so exhausted you have collapsed into unconsciousness after he has made you come more than once. Sometimes the sleep is a mercy.

Dottore bends his head to suckle more love bites into your neck as Pantalone parts the silkiness of your thighs, sighing softly when you’re revealed to him.

“They’re wet,” he says, his tone pretending to be off-hand. Dottore can hear the hunger beneath his words, though - Pantalone’s warmth is all show. He is as sharp as ice, just like the rest of the Harbingers. “How darling they are.”

Pantalone uses two fingers to spread you lewdly open, Dottore’s eyes glinting red in the darkness as he looks at you. Your folds are silky soft, webs of arousal glittering and shining in the firelight, your clit a pretty swollen pearl longing to be touched and sucked and rubbed and pinched until you squeal and whimper. His eyes drink you in greedily, drifting to the pulsing hole of your entrance; deceptively small, when Dottore knows you’ll stretch to take three of his fingers and the full girth of his cock.

You whimper again as Pantalone’s index finger brushes over your clit, a soft little hiccup of ‘more, please’ that has Dottore’s cock begging to be freed. Your hole clenches around nothing - empty. Wanting. Needing.

An idea flashes into his head as he watches Pantalone’s finger continue to make soft little circles about the nub, as he watches a drop of your slick leak from your empty cunt and pool beneath you.

“Regrator,” he says, that edge to his voice returning gleeful and vicious. “Have you ever wondered if our pretty little toy’s cunt could fit two cocks inside of it at once?”

There is a beat of silence. Pantalone looks thoughtful, his finger not ceasing in the gentle, rhythmic strokes of your clit. Dottore’s breath has gotten short, savage desire bubbling up inside of him as every moment passes. When Dottore gets an idea in his head, he wants to enact it as soon as possible. If one asked, he would say it is simply how the mind of a genius works.

Pantalone finally speaks.

“Why,” says Pantalone. “I’ve never thought much about it. But whilst they’re so very . . . docile . . .”

Pantalone’s smile is just as satisfied and knife-like as Dottore’s - but where Dottore is dangerous fang, Pantalone is all even pearl. Neither of them is a good man. But even a bad man takes good care of his favourite treasures.

“I think we ought to find out.”

#writing #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #dottore smut #pantalone smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #dub con for ts #somnophilia for ts #genshin impact posting

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demonic-charcuterie · 6 months

Note

https://youtu.be/8GBJ_C2ERDo?si=tOqFE2ENBGvWoEYN

Love your helluva boss mob boss!reader sorry for all the rude and demanding asks your getting but happy late Halloween<33

Would it be okay for me to request mob boss!reader and fizz and Ozzie Halloween fluff?? If not it's okay! And take your time!

Thank you so much! I had so much fun writing that! If it’s fluff you want it’s fluff you will receive! Ps. I love love love getting requests so pleaseeeee ask for some more.

You,Fizz, and Ozzie didn’t celebrate Halloween a lot before they met you. Mostly because they were to busy. Ozzie was building new Halloween special “adult projects” and Fizz was throwing special events. And you…you were a mob boss and don’t think you’d have time for that when you were bashing heads in.

All those things were great but you never had time to decorate or hand out candy or watch scary movies at midnight because you dog piled on each other. Fizzy wrapped his tail around you and you all just passed out.

But this you changed that, you went all out on Halloween and you didn’t cater to the masses. You were so clueless, you heard “scary” and ran with. You didn’t hang up cute little pumpkins or some shit like that, oh hell no. Your pumpkins had their seedy guts spread out on the lawn like a orange bloody pumpkin massacre. You bought those electric spider that ran around when they were exposed to light.

Ozzie and Fizz where out while you baking red velvet cookies when a bullet shot right past your ear causing a moment of deafness. This was like the 9th time someone tried to kill you this month. You always tried your hardest to hide that you were sneaking into the lust ring to visit them but ever since Ozzie revealed that he loved Fizz you tried less to hide it and now things like this happen a lot more often.

When Fizz and Ozzie got home you had just finished shoving his dead body out of the window. “O-oh sorry babe it didn’t mean to make a mess-” You said gesturing to the bloody walls and kitchen counter tops with a tray of cookies on the table.

“Y/n…this is amazing!” Fizz said pulling you into a long sweet kiss. “W-what the bloo-“ you began but Ozzie cut you off. “This blood looks so real, oh and you baked cookies!” Ozzie said picking you up. You smiled shyly as he lifted you.

“Well thanks, I worked hard on this!” You said as he put you down. “I have a surprise for you two.” You said running up down the hallway and coming back with a box. “Open this.”

Fizz ripping open the box and pulled out a skeleton onesie. You reached into the box and pulled out yours. “I got a matching pjs! I couldn’t get one made in your true from Ozzie but could you please shape shift?” You asked while handing him his large onesie. He nodded and struck down.

“What are these?” Ozzie said pulled out children’s cutting knifes and a giant sheet of plastic. “We’re pumpkin carving!” You exclaimed. “And I didn’t wanna get the floor dirty. I figured we could watch some horror movies while we have a carving contest.” You smile shyly at the both of them. “I know..it was stupid you don’t have to-“

You were cut off at Ozzie who pulled you into a deep kiss. “We love it!” Fizz said smiling while wrapping his arm around you.

(A few hours later.)

You and Fizz you laying on Ozzie’s chest with some random black in right movie rolling in the background. A random shriek woke you up and the boys are and you all looked at each other before bursting out laughing and falling back into the pillow. “This was a great Halloween babe” Ozzie said.

“Yeah it really was.” Fizz said before kissing your forehead.

I really hope you liked this one, I realized the mob boss could’ve been more scary i guess but I really like this one.

#fizzarolli x asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #halloween fluff #halloween

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darl-ings · 1 year

Text

umbrella | jeon wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1393

summary: in which it’s raining and wonwoo comes to the rescue

a/n: i’ve been watching twenty five twenty one. that’s all

“Remember the Personal Project is due next Thursday. Make sure to review your drafts and send them in before the end of today. Have a good weekend, everyone. Class dismissed. ”

You gathered your things, stuffing them quickly into your tote bag before leaving the stuffy classroom and heading down the hall and towards the stairs like the rest of your eager peers. You descended the stairs of the class building, noticing a mass of students stood before the front doors. You tried to see what had caused everyone to crowd, but when you noticed umbrellas being pulled out, and rain jackets being pulled on, you quickly realized the issue.

The crowd cleared a bit more, your peers seemingly more prepared for the bad weather than you were. Soon enough, you were the only one left at the entrance, eyes on the downpour of rain happening through the windows. You grabbed your phone out of your bag, opening the weather app with a sigh.

“Shit,” you muttered, reading the predictions for the rest of the day. You would’ve been able to stay inside for a few more hours, but the app predicted a 100% chance of rain until midnight, and the time now was only 6:30. Plus, you were meant to meet your friends for dinner at 7, something about Chan needing a celebration for not failing his Algebra exam (he loves to celebrate meaningless things). You debated just bailing, but you could already hear Chan’s complaints in your mind, so you stuffed your phone in your pocket before opening the doors and venturing into the rain.

For the first few seconds, it wasn’t bad. However, the wind got a bit harsher as you walked, and the rain started to fall at an angle, soaking your whole body almost immediately. You bit the insides of your cheeks to refrain from getting frustrated, instead stomping heavier towards your destination.

You didn’t notice it at first, but at one point the rain had stopped pouring on you. You were able to see without having to brush the wetness from your eyes, and drops of rain weren’t falling down your face anymore. You halted your steps, looking up and noticing two things. The first was a yellow umbrella, hovering over you with a hopeful glow, and the second was a person, the owner of the umbrella, who now made eye contact with you.

“Wonwoo?”

Jeon Wonwoo, a junior and the TA in your psychology class. Jeon Wonwoo, the guy who everyone in your class fawned over, but never got a chance with him because he rejected each and every one of them. Jeon Wonwoo, the guy holding an umbrella over your head while his got poured on.

“Wait!” you gasped, pushing his arm back so the umbrella would cover him instead. “Thank you, but you should use it. It’s your umbrella.”

“I’ll use it how I’d like, thanks,” he stated, his arm moving again to help the umbrella cover you. “Besides, you’d do the same for me. It’s common courtesy.”

You stared up at him, allowing his words to replay in your head a few times before you made your next move. Confidently, you wrapped your hand around his that held the umbrella, then used your other hand to grab his coat and tug him close to you. Now, you were both stood under the umbrella, and your faces were only inches apart.

“You’re right. I would do the same for you. So, let’s just both stay under the umbrella, okay?”

It took Wonwoo a second, but he nodded at your words. Though, unexpectedly he adjusted your positions, moving so his arm was slung over your shoulders and your side was pressed tightly against his. This new adjustment made your heart pound against your chest, so loud that you missed the words that Wonwoo spoke.

“What?” you questioned, shaking out of your bashful state. Wonwoo smiled, and you felt his hand move down your arm to pull you closer.

“I asked where you’re heading. I’ll take you there then go to my dorm.”

So you told Wonwoo your destination, a little Pho shop in the town square by campus. Wonwoo’s long legs made it difficult to catch up, but he kept his arm wrapped tightly around you and made sure to slow down if it seemed like you were falling behind. No words were spoken until you reached the restaurant, with you turning so you could look up at Wonwoo.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, bowing your head at him. When you looked back up, Wonwoo was smiling. “What? What is it?” you asked, suddenly growing self-conscious under his stare.

“Nothing, it’s just… I’ve been dreaming about being this close to you since you joined Professor Moon’s class. You’re pretty from your desk, but you’re even prettier up close, too.”

You blinked at Wonwoo’s words, processing them through and through before gasping at his confession. Wonwoo laughed at your reaction, his eyes leaving yours for a moment to look behind you.

“Seems like your friends are waiting,” he stated, your eyes following his to see Seungkwan, Vernon and Chan sat inside by the window, staring back at you with their expressions similar to your shocked one. You turned back around, shutting your eyes and resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s chest.

“They’re never going to let me live this down,” you muttered. “What am I doing being this touchy with the TA?” Wonwoo chuckled at your words, patting your back gently.

“Then, how about I become something else besides your TA? Maybe… your TA who wants to ask you out on a date? Friday? After our class?”

You slowly lifted your head from Wonwoo’s chest, eyes wide as you looked up at him. He seemed serious, though you were afraid he was messing with you. He’s rejected so many girls in your class, so it was hard to believe that he was asking you out despite being desired by others.

“If that was too forward, I apologize–”

“Friday, after class. I’ll be waiting, Wonwoo,” you stated, managing a calm smile before turning to enter the restaurant. As you opened the door, you turned back, sending a wink towards Wonwoo before stepping inside the warm shop. Wonwoo watched with a smile on his face, then turned away and began his walk to his dorm.

You passed a few tables before reaching your friends, attempting to ignore their knowing stares as you sat next to Seungkwan. Vernon and Chan were sat on the opposite side, Chan leaning forward to squint his eyes at you.

“Did you ask him for a better grade so he’s asking you to do something for him in return?”

“What?” you gasped, shaking your head. “No, oh, my God! No! Who do you think I am, Lee Chan?” you kicked his shin under the table, his grunt earning a few glances from other customers. Seungkwan bowed his head at them in apology, waiting for them to look away before whacking your arm.

“Then explain why you came here with Jeon Wonwoo so close to you. You guys looked like a couple!” he whisper-yelled, his words making a smile appear on your lips.

“Well, maybe we will be a couple. He asked me on a date, for this Friday,” you stated, earning gasps and squeals from your friends.

“Wow, you really got the Jeon Wonwoo to get out of his shell. Congrats,” Vernon grinned, holding up his glass of water. Everyone, including you, held up their glasses, clinking them together before you all took sips of the cold beverage.

“Yah, he’s probably liked you from the start,” Seungkwan mentioned. “I mean, in class you can just see the heart eyes he makes whenever you answer a question. He’s also not mean to you like he is with everyone else.”

The boys all visibly shivered, recalling Wonwoo’s cold stare and monotone words. You chuckled, taking another sip of your water. As the conversation shifted from your dating life to Chan’s successful exam, you felt your phone buzz, your eyes glancing at your friends before you took it out of your pocket and read the notification.

From: Pysch TA Wonwoo

You can pick the date spot, BTW. I don’t mind where, as long as I get to be with you.

Eat well with your friends. See you on Friday :)

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo imagines #svt imagines #svt fluff #wonwoo fic #seventeen #wonwoo #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader #seventeen drabbles #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fluff

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