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nohoney · 1 month

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inspired by a text i sent

“we should call out of work together one day, just spend a day fucking.” you suggest to bakugou one day when he returns from work as you’re setting food down at his place on the table. “what do you say?”

bakugou grunts and points out that you and him have sex on the regular, that there’s no need to take time off just to fuck for a whole day. he doesn’t pay your suggestion much mind at first. he works, comes home, spends time with you, and then he rests.

however there comes a stressful period from his agency. things are slightly fucked with an underground villain organization that his team is trying to keep tabs on so his schedule gets rearranged as he helps lead the case on the activity. suddenly he’s not seeing you as often, coming in unreasonably late at night when you’re already asleep, or you’re coming home just as he’s leaving. you’re only able to have a few minutes with each other before he has to go. maybe even a quickie if the two of you are really lucky but even those leave the both of you slightly unsatisfied.

it’s just not enough time together.

it’s a whole month of this fucked up routine, and it’s when he sees your engagement ring sitting in your little jewelry tray in the bathroom when bakugou recalls your words and decides that he needs it.

he trudges into his home again at four in the morning, dropping his work bag by the couch and running his hands down his face that’s coupled with an exhausted sigh. his eyes are tired, his back aches a little, and he’s a little hungry but can’t be bothered with eating a meal at this time. all he wants to do is rest next to you.

bakugou wants his old schedule back.

after he’s showered, bakugou is careful to not jostle you too much as he joins you in bed. his heart clenches a little as he sees you curled up on his side of the bed, your face smushed into his pillow and even wearing one of his shirts are your pajamas. fuck—he misses you.

so he picks up his phone, using the last of his energy to send a text to kirishima and a sidekick in a small groupchat.

[04:47] calling out for two days. keep it together until i get back or else.

kirishima will be unquestioning to his request seeing as bakugou had done a similar favor for him when he was getting burnt out from the agency too.

his phone is put on do not disturb and is set with the screen facing down on the bedside table. bakugou is careful to move you back to your side of the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple to soothe you when you groan unpleasantly. he’s happy to sink into the warmth of the bed and he pulls you in close, falling asleep quicker than he could have anticipated.

you normally wake up at seven and you’re pretty good at hopping out of bed to start your day. this morning is not as easy, not when you wake up to bakugou having practically trapped you against him. it’s nice though, so so nice considering the schedule he’s had lately. he has to rest though from his late night and you have to be ready for work, so you try to peel his arms off you.

oh his arms… so fucking strong and built, they feel so good to be wrapped around your waist but you have to go.

when you attempt a second time to get out of his hold, you let out a small yelp when your fiancé tightens his hold and grunts, “stay.”

“katsuki, i can’t,” your voice rasps with sleepiness, trying to shake it off along with your hulking hero soon-to-be-husband off you, “gotta get ready for work.”

“stay.” bakugou repeats himself a little more firmly.

you sigh out loud and attempt a third time to get out of his hold. you’re surprised when he pushes you to lie back on the bed and he cages you with his body, looking down at you with dark bags under his eyes. almost fed up, you’re about to yell at him but he speaks first, “call out, i miss you and i’m gonna fuck you all day.”

his words are familiar but in the moment, you can’t recall from when you heard them. it has a reaction on you, has you aching and clenching your legs together as you look up at him. “you need rest, you got home late.”

“i’ll sleep when i feel like it. i just fucking miss you.” he croons, leaning down to nose at your cheek and then inhale the scent of your lotion that he can still smell faintly on your skin, “call out.”

oh god, you are tempted but you want him to sleep and you have a scheduled call with all the other managers for your work today. “katsuki, get some sleep baby. i can make dinner tonight when i get home and-“ you try to convince him to get rest but he speaks over you.

“c’mon, fuck on my cock and show me how much you miss me.”

you’re finally convinced.

it only takes thirty seconds to send a text with a reasonable excuse to your lead manager that you won’t be in for the next two days. you know that they’ll say no problem to you since you’ve hardly called out of work since you earned your promotion within the last year. and besides, there’s always other people calling out anyway so now it’s your fucking turn.

plus you know… you’re dynamight’s fiancée so you should get to flex that occasionally.

everything is frenzied now that the two of you know you have the next 48 hours with one another. no work, no meetings, no emails—just the two of you finally together.

the kisses are desperate, clothes are flung off and thrown somewhere on the bedroom floor, and bakugou is lying on his back as he grabs your hips to have you sit on his face. to have him hold you like this again has you excited, moaning loudly in relief as your fiancé eagerly eats you out. your hips roll to glide his tongue along your pussy, his big hands sliding up from your hips and cupping just right underneath your tits, one of his thumbs leisurely petting just right underneath your breast.

“oh god, oh god! fuck, s’good!” your breath is low, speaking more to yourself and lewdly moaning when bakugou roughly grabs your tits.

“missed this pussy on my face,” bakugou groans from beneath in between licks, “missed my fucking girls right here.”

ugh it’s so corny how he refers to your breasts but in the moment you find it grossly endearing. sometimes when you were cooking, bakugou would come up behind you and put his hands under your shirt just to grope at you. sometimes you would get genuinely annoyed at him for intruding in your space but with him being so busy in the last month, you had missed it more than you thought you would have.

it’s almost embarrassing how easily you cum on his tongue but bakugou has no complaints, practically drinking it up as he continues to eat away at you. as much as you relieved to get eaten out again, you were aching even more for his cock in your mouth. hopping off his face, you feel your mouth drool upon seeing your fiancé’s hard cock flushed a rosy red at the tip as it twitches against his lower stomach.

“pumpkin, hold on i want to you to—fuck!” bakugou wanted your cunt right away but he throws his head back against the pillows when you immediately deepthroat his cock. just as he had eagerly eaten you out to show how much he missed you, you were enthusiastically taking him into your throat. bakugou almost feels like a virgin with the way he’s reacting, finding himself a little sensitive that he hadn’t gotten properly sucked off in a while thanks to those shitty villains that showed on the radar for some real serious shit.

bakugou swears he’s gonna rip them apart with his own hands once they’re located for keeping him and his fiancée apart this long.

his chest rises and falls quickly, one of his hands clenching a fist as we he wills himself to not cum. but god, your mouth feels so good on his cock and he hasn’t had a proper nut in a while. the quickies he had with you along with the secret hurried fisting on his dick while on the job just weren’t cutting it. finding some semblance of control, bakugou grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you off.

“katsukiiii!” you whine out his name in a small drawl, letting out a petulant little noise that makes him coo over you, “i want more!”

bakugou hushes you gently, guiding you back over to him until he’s got you hovering over his cock. “sit on it baby, give that fucking pussy to me.” he urges you with a tone of desperation in his voice, “c’mon, fuck!”

slowly you ease onto his cock, your eyes fluttering as the tip breaches you and the stretch of your fiancé has you excited. a month isn’t necessarily a long time but when neither of you hadn’t been able to not even spend at least fifteen minutes together in the entirety since his fucked up schedule, it ends up feeling like a lifetime has passed.

your hands rest on bakugou’s pecs, needing the leverage as you sit back fully onto his cock, gasping in surprise when you already cum on him.

“oh fuck, ya missed me that much sweetheart? you only put it in and you’re already cumming again?” bakugou breathlessly laughs, using his strong hands to lift you up slightly and slamming you down. he relishes in your gasp and how your cunt is already soaking wet—it’s dripping right where’s got you plugged and onto his balls. one would think that it’s a little cruel that he repeats the motion a few times, still getting the same result as you start to lose your mind from becoming sensitive already, but he’s been missing this and missing you.

you manage to get some semblance of your brain back, pushing off bakugou’s hands and put in the work of riding him yourself. there’s no work that you need to get to later on—nothing that’s going to get in the way between you and him!

“missed you, katsuki! missed you, missed you!” your words are desperate and your cunt is eager to milk your fiancé’s cock. you ride him hard, even as your legs start to tire and you can feel a thin sheen of sweat start to form on your body, you don’t want to stop. you take him in, watching bakugou become equally overwhelmed. his eyes shut and his mouth drops open to groan, but when he attempts to open his eyes it seems that he doesn’t know where to look.

he loves watching your cunt swallow his dick, he loves how your tits bounce in his face when you fuck him like this, and he loves looking at your face as you—

smack!

“ah shit, the fuck was that for babe?” bakugou curses but he was actually exhilarated from you slapping him. normally he’s the one slapping your cheeks, but it’s not unheard of for you to give him the same treatment occasionally.

“you-you missed tasting wedding cakes with me! it was scheduled this month and you couldn’t make it!” you huff out, sitting back again onto his dick and this time shaking your hips. the little motion makes his eyes roll back but he manages to hiss out ‘m sorry baby…

oh fuck, you’re right. he had it marked off in his calendar three months prior but this stupid schedule wrecked everything! and who knows if you’ve had to reschedule or postpone certain things that are needed for the wedding all because of him.

once bakugou is back to work, he is definitely going to kill those stupid villain fuckers.

he stutters apologies, canting his hips up to meet yours and fucking you from the bottom. “sorry, fucking sorry baby… tell me everything that i missed. everything.”

“r-right now?” you shudder and then yelp when bakugou seizes control, putting you on your back and leaning over you, “tell you now?”

“no stupid, tell me when we’re not fucking.” bakugou tuts, deciding that you’re way too coherent with his dick in you. so he rams himself into you, deep into cunt and hearing another wet squelch that drips onto his cock and is gonna make a wet spot on the bed. he’s got plans to make you cum more, to make you squirt, to make you lose your voice from screaming for him but only after he listens to all the updates he’s missed for the last month.

he is going to fuck you as much as he can for the next two days.

bakugou misses your tight walls clinging onto him, sometimes clenching so hard that he has to wait for you to relax a little so that he can keep on moving. soft and wet and warm, he’s been obsessed with your pussy since the first date he had with you. he’s been in love with you for the last three years and he’s going to keep on loving you forever.

right now though, he just really really wants to fuck you for himself.

the frenzied fucking is everything that he’s been missing, watching as your head digs into the pillow and your body starts to shake. you were babbling a little earlier but now you’re so fucked out that you can only make sounds, no discernible words can be formed in your head or out loud. he’s got you suspended in ecstasy, drowning in a sea of rapture, and just absolutely stupid from his cock.

“missed this sloppy lil, pussy. fucking love this pussy, all fucking mine.”

bakugou reaches in between your bodies, knowing that he’s about to make you undone. he rubs the pad of his thumb against your clit in tandem with his thrusts. it’s like you’re renewed, your eyes widening in a brief moment of clarity at the new stimulation, taking in the onslaught of pleasure that’s surging up and down your body.

you wail for him, your toes curling and your back arching high off the bed. your cunt spasms around his cock, hugging him tightly before your orgasm crashes hard onto you. one of your arms manages to clutch onto bakugou and pulls him in close, your nails dragging down hard against his back.

that makes him come undone, fucking hard into you still as thick ropes of cum fill you. even as he cums, his fingers still work on your clit but you can barely manage to take anymore before slapping his hand away instinctively to stop overstimulating you.

your fiancé’s body is a pleasant weight that drops on you, the both of you catching your breath after some mind blowing sex. bakugou feels your hands soothe over his back. your touch is relaxing and what he’s been needing this entire time. he decides to stay like this until his cock finally softens inside you.

bakugou pulls out and rolls over to his side of the bed, pulling up the blankets to help cover you up while you still try to get yourself in order. he basks in the glow that he’s sure is radiating off of him, like a knot that’s finally massaged out of his neck, like a joint that finally cracks and gives you some relief when you stretch.

yeah… he’s been needing this.

the two of you are up on your feet and hour later, barely clothed in your own home as you walk around in an oversized sweatshirt and he leaves the bedroom only wearing his favorite sweats. bakugou is at the stove as he cooks breakfast and you’re catching him up on some of the things he’s missed on your side while you make a dirty chai for him.

“i can order a wedding cake sampler and have it delivered here, how does that sound? seeing as you missed the actual tasting.” you offer to your fiancé, stirring up his chai for him before setting it to the side, “comes with twelve flavors for us to try.”

“yeah, why not? i don’t think we’ve ever sat around just eating cake before.” bakugou agrees as he plates the second omelette that’s meant for you.

“it’s not just cake we’re eating, katsuki! it’s for the wedding! we need to choose what we think everyone will enjoy.” you chide him playfully as you set up the table for the two you. bakugou likes the setup of the little breakfast nook, but he leaves for the bathroom to fetch one thing that will make everything complete.

he picks up your engagement ring from your jewelry tray.

although bakugou is the one who decided to call off work suddenly, he can’t help but glance at his phone anyway for any updates. and he gets a single text from kirishima-

[9:01] good news! we’re off the hook for now with the case—managed to get todoroki’s agency to help rotate the watch too. enjoy your days off bro!

bakugou is grateful but he only sends it in the form of a thumbs up reaction to the text. he knows that kirishima appreciates it anyway and is probably just as relieved.

so he walks back to have breakfast with you, deciding to withhold the news from you for now as he tells you to put your ring on. and it feels right again to sit down and eat with you, drink from his favorite mug, and to be actually relaxed for the first time in a month.

“mmkay, the cakes are gonna be delivered by one! and i know it’s us choosing together, but i really liked the strawberry mousse with white cake as an option.”

he’s still got the next 40-something hours with you to fuck you as much as he wants and to make up all the time he’s missed.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut

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hms-tardimpala · 1 year

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casually checking a newsfeed to see if I still have a government~~

#look I have no love for this government #but I hate a mess #and the past month has been unpleasantly messy #I dread the fate of poor Italy #I don't want our assemblies to start playing musical chairs #we'll spend our time voting new people into power and there'll be no time left to actually accomplish anything this presidential term #and then it will be five more years of taking steps back because the next president will surely be right-wing #what I mean to say is that I was already disenchanted but at least the mess wasn't so loud I couldn't ignore it #France

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giamee · 1 year

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𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: roommate!welt x reader ; roommate!blade x reader ; roommate!gepard x reader

୨♡୧ contains :: modern!au, nothing crazy maybe some suggestive stuff and talking about lack of shirts, alcohol consumption but like rlly mild like I'm talking a few glasses of wine

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: screaming sobbing crying i got welt AND sampo on the same 10 pull :> anyways first exam in five days lets fucking gooooo. something short and sweet in the meanwhile

୨♡୧ request :: @sentieence 𖦹 (hope that this is enough blade content for you, i threw in a couple extra hee hee har)

𓆩♡𓆪 WELT

for an animator who mostly works from home, your roommate is surprisingly elusive

of course, you know what he looks like because you met him when you first moved in

he's smart, poised, handsome, and kind - as made apparent by his insistence on helping you move all of your boxes of belongings into the place

he was always polite, never overstepped boundaries, bid you a good morning or night whenever your paths crossed

and, well, that was about it

you knew that welt worked in his room, but if it weren't for his occasional appearances, it was almost like you were living entirely on your own

which wasn't exactly awful, per se, but you did want to get to know your roommate better

however, life's plans always manage to throw a wrench into the mix

your regular routine of work and returning home was interrupted with the unforeseen circumstance of having to stay later to finish a project in time- leaving you exhausted before you even left the building and began your journey back home

your stomach began growling as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, and you found yourself wondering what takeout you would rely on this evening to carry you through to the next day

those thoughts were interrupted by the enticing aroma of food cooking entering your nostrils as soon as you swung your front door open

you paused in confusion, taking a second to shed your shoes and coat before wandering into your kitchen, met with the surprising sight of your roommate with his back to you, humming quietly as he cooked himself a meal

you were almost hesitant to interrupt him, yet your stomach had other plans as it growled embarrassingly loud, causing welt to glance behind him and shoot you a quick smile before turning his attention back to the stove

"come sit, i'm making enough for two"

you grinned at his words, setting the table before settling down and watching welt cook with a practised grace

even in his own home, he dressed so formally, with his crisp button-down's sleeves rolled up to his reveal his forearms, the tendons rippling in such a way as he stirred the contents of the pan that you wondered just how an animator could have that physique-

you coughed to rid yourself of those thoughts, instead focusing on your drink as welt plated up the steaming food, placing one in front of you before taking a seat across from you

it all felt very intimate, and you tried not to get flustered as you made eye contact with your roommate from across the table

despite the easy expression he wore, his eyes met your gaze with an intensity that demanded you to match it, making you almost shrink back into your chair as welt nonchalantly took a bite, humming to himself in satisfaction

you followed his lead, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you sat back in your chair and appreciated welt's cooking

"you should cook more often" you sighed

welt let out a chuckle

"is that so?"

you hummed in affirmation, eagerly finishing your plate, the hot meal leaving you feeling fully satiated

you accidentally made eye contact with welt as you took your last bite, a certain look of endearment adorned by him that had you stuttering, teeth scraping unpleasantly around your fork

"i'll cook as much as you want to as long as you join me for the meal"

you almost choked on your food, feeling very self conscious all over again as welt's gaze remained fixed on you, chin propped up by his arm as that same accursed look on his face appraised you

"that would be nice"

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

on all counts, your roommate was an asshole

he was irritable, didn't clean up after himself unless you nagged him, and had woken you from your sleep more times than you can count because of whatever stupid shit he's up to that requires him to thump his way around the flat

it was infuriating, but hey, rent was cheap and the place you're in isn't half bad

all you have to do now is endure the circumstances for the remainder of your lease

you did your best to avoid the aptly named blade and his sharp mouth

mornings were particularly risky, with his half-asleep state invoking even more snide comments than usual as he makes himself a cup of coffee, black with no sugar

and then he proceeds to leave the unwashed mug in the sink

it pisses you off when you come back home at the end of your day and see it later alongside a stack of other dishes, dark ring of residual coffee staining the perfectly good piece of ceramic, and there's some string inside you that snaps and has you huffing and puffing your way over to your flatmate's room and knocking on it persistently

once, twice, three times

you hear an exaggerated sigh before the sound of his muffled footsteps, and then the door is being swung open and you're ready to chew him out for what feels like the millionth time

and then your eyes register the fact that youre stood face to face with his bare chest and the words die on your lips

the baggy clothes he wore really didn't serve him justice, and it's an active effort to peel your eyes away from his toned chest to meet his eyes, only to see a flash of amusement as he watches you make a fool of yourself

"something wrong?"

the bastard's enjoying this

"wash your dishes" you squeak out, before hightailing it back to your own room and trying to forget the image of your hot asshole roommate without a shirt on that was now branded onto the back of your eyelids

and it seemed that blade hadn't forgotten your encounter either

the next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see the dishes were done and set to dry, and you even picked out the same mug blade had used yesterday for your own coffee

the sound of the kettle must have masked his footsteps, because you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard blade grunt out a morning before reaching for the just-boiled water and the mug you placed on the counter

you turn around to tell him to get his own, though you're surprised to be greeted with the wide expanse of his bare back, all muscle that coils and stretches as he added milk and sugar to the drink and stirred it with a spoon and turning to face you yet again, smirk adorning his face as he took a long sip from your own cup

you bite the inside of your cheek, focusing your gaze onto his smug face as he leaned back against the counter, taking an exaggerated stretch back that let his muscles flex

"i thought you didn't like milk and sugar"

"i don't, but you do"

blade slid the mug across the counter back towards you, making his way out of the kitchen leisurely as if he hadn't just inadvertedly confessed that he memorised how you make your coffee

you take a sip and your suspicions are confirmed as it tastes the exact same as you make it, and you smile down at your drink despite yourself

having blade as a roommate might just work out after all

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

gepard my beloved

honestly good luck living with this man and not having a massive crush on him

you feel guilty, but the thought of just how good of a boyfriend gepard would be has crossed your mind multiple times

the domestic setting of already living together doesn't exactly help these thoughts, either

over the late nights you've spent staying up talking, and the manoeuvring around each other in your cramped cosy apartment that has led to more brushes and lingering touches than you could count, this great image of intimacy has been constructed over the past months

the fact that he's single and painfully attractive is something that you're acutely aware of as well

even when alone, your mind often wandered back to that glaring fact, and on the rare occasion you let yourself indulge in the what ifs and maybes surrounding gepard

and with a couple glasses of wine in you right now, those thoughts were running rampant

it was a friday night and you were finally home from work, dressed in your comfiest clothes and just unwinding in the living room watching a trashy romcom with some takeout

and speak of the devil, you heard the familiar sound of your door being unlocked as gepard let himself in with a mumbled greeting, the door soon slamming shut behind him

you didn't turn your head, instead listening to him curse as he tripped over something in the hall, and his muted footsteps as he made his way to where you were sat

"long day, huh?" you teased, turning your head just in time to watch him loosen his tie with one hand, the pale column of his throat suddenly leaving your throat dry and reaching for your glass again

"something like that"

gepard shuffled over, intercepting it before you could place it back down on the table and took a sip from the same spot you did, making you feel flushed for reasons other than the alcohol working its way through your system

you placed your feet on the floor, about to shuffle up on the couch in anticipation of him taking a seat next to you, though the man surprised you as he crouched down, opting to sit in between your legs, his broad shoulders nestling comfortably against your knees

well, that was new

you zeroed in on his hair, reaching out your hand before thinking and combing through his tousled locks

you didn't expect the content sigh he let out at your simple action, watching the way his shoulders softened and he leaned back into you, his head now resting comfortably against your thigh

the ends of his hair tickled your bare skin, and you tried not to squirm at the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering closed as he hummed gently at your ministrations, basking in your presence

the thought of gepard having the exact mannerisms of a cat crossed your mind, and the giggle that escaped your lips was not lost on him, as he craned his head back to look you at you, brows furrowed at your mirth

"what?"

"nothing," you hummed, continuing to card your fingers through his silky hair, absentmindedly twisting a lock of it around your finger, watching the man sigh and sink back against you from his place on the floor

the weight of him resting against your legs just felt so right, and you felt yourself begin to relax into the position as well, your attention turning back to the movie as you continued your tipsy affection on your roommate

that seemed to be a sobering thought as you remembered that fact, and you were half tempted to pull away if it weren't for gepard looping his hands around your thighs, thumbs tracing absentminded patterns of his own into your skin, eyes fixed straight ahead

well, if he's not complaining, you didn't exactly see a reason why you should be either

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

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tommy knows the second simon comes home on his most recent leave that something’s up. that something’s different about him. and it only takes the briefest exchange of looks with beth to know exactly what it is.

there’s a dumb, lovestruck glint in simon’s eyes that wasn’t previously present.

of course, simon still greets his family in his usual dry tones; with his characteristic dismissiveness when asked about work. he still rolls his eyes when tommy pokes fun at him, and his shoulders still seem like they’re weighed down from carrying the world, but it’s all done with this look. this expression tommy has never seen on his brother’s face before.

it’s hard to decipher and impossible to find a reason for—at least, until simon is asking if one of his work friends could join them for dinner one night since he’d be in town, during his own transit home in a few days’ time.

as he asks, that spark returns. beth and tommy talk later that night in hushed voices, crawling into bed, and decide immediately that this work friend has something to do with simon’s nearly undetectable change in demeanour.

when they’re introduced to one john mactavish, that assumption proves itself painfully true.

even being the near complete opposite of simon—chatty and loud, though not unpleasantly so, and all smiles—tommy thinks john is perfect for his brother. he must be, if he can get simon to look at him like that. like tommy looks at beth. like john had hung the moon and stars just for simon.

john brings out some unique, hidden part of simon that had maybe never existed before, or had been buried deep. it’s sickeningly sweet, the love with which simon manages to infuse into the nickname johnny whenever addressing him. it’s terribly heartwarming, how john gets simon to open up more than he has in years.

and when john leaves, that spark dims, but never dies. tommy and beth say they’re happy for him, which is met with a confused look and a wave and a disgruntled goodnight.

huh.

clearly the story goes deeper than tommy thought.

he and beth (and maybe even joseph) will certainly be questioning simon about john over breakfast the next morning. if simon thought he could escape, well. he thought wrong.

it’s only fair that simon tells his family about the man that put that new light into his eyes.

#GOD i love outsider perspective #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #tommy riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap

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a-spes · 5 months

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| THE SHOT YOU MISSED - One shot (3k).

| Summary - you're spending a day at the fair with your girlfriend, the sweetest mob boss that possibly exists and she makes sure that you've a good day.

| Tags & warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, just a fluff writing, slight angst (?), beginning of a panic attack, guns, domestic domination (kinda), Natasha is the sweetest in that.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

You’re taking a deep breath, trying to chase away the tension from your shoulders. There is only one cartridge left in the gun you have been given, so you already know that you won’t have a second chance: if that shot doesn’t hit its target, the mission will be a failure, and it’s not an option. The stakes are too high for you to miss that one.

You’re doing your best to ignore your surroundings, a difficult thing to do when you’re used to paying attention to everything, especially when being in a crowded place. You could hear the conversations of those around you, the screams and laughs alongside the footsteps of the children running on the asphalt. They were meters away but it was still piercing your eardrums. Even your own breathing started to be unbearable, it was fast and loud because of the anticipation and stress.

The weapon is stable, you’re maintaining it with a firm grip despite the slight trembling of your hands. You have been in this position for several minutes, and your muscles are starting to ache.

You have to do it, now.

There is nothing left to divert your attention, and you are eventually able to forget about everything else. For a moment, you can’t hear anything, you only see the target that is right in the center of your sights. A pressure from your finger, a clatter that rings in your ears, and just like that the bullet is gone, straight toward your target.

“Fuck!” you screamed, and it takes all the control you possess to not throw the plastic weapon when you see that you missed it.

You ignore the way the showman glanced at you when you screamed, a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction. You have been here for almost half an hour and you didn’t move an inch, refusing to go back to your girlfriend with empty hands. But sometimes determination isn’t enough, all you’ve managed to do is to pop a balloon or two, but you need more if you want to get that coveted prize.

When your hand reaches into your jacket’s pockets, you’re unpleasantly surprised to find nothing. The desperation with which you are now searching isn’t enough to reveal one last coin and you realize that you’ve spent everything you were given by Natasha, which means the fun is over for tonight.

It is already over and you weren’t even good enough to win a little something.

You had no other choice than going back to your girlfriend with nothing to give her, which you find embarrassing because she will obviously ask what took you so long and you didn’t want to admit your failures, not in front of the woman you love. The second she saw you, she stopped talking with the rest of the group to focus all her attention on you, noticing the way you were avoiding her gaze. As you are trying your best to get over your frustration, she is running her finger over your furrowed brows.

“What's happening, sweetie? You’re tense,” she told you, she knew something was wrong the moment she glanced at you, there is nothing that could escape her gaze.

“I lost, again,” you mumbled, not really wanting to talk more about it, especially because you knew she would react that way: you wanted nothing more than to rip that smirk off her face.

“Oh, baby … come here” she cooed, trying to hide her smile - but she just can’t help it.

She opens her arm and you wait no more than a second before throwing yourself into her embrace. The moment she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, all your frustration is gone.

She is good when it comes to ease your worries: she spent the next hour dragging you everywhere, and you’re sure you’ve tried every ride at least twice. She even bought you cotton candy despite her strict rules about sweets, just to make sure you smile again.

At some point, you were separated from her, you let go of her hand for one second, just enough time to drink some water, but also for your girlfriend to disappear. She probably told you where she was going, but you hadn’t heard because of the screams and those missed words are the reason you’re now panicking.

You are turning around again, and again, and again, but it’s useless, you are lost without her at your side. Every time you think you spotted her red hair in the crowd, it turns out that it isn’t her and the minutes start to feel like hours.

You're being manhandled by the crowd, trying to sort out your thoughts until a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and pulls you out of your torment. You turn sharply, but fear is replaced by relief when you realise it's only her.

She doesn’t like to see you like this, with tears in the corner of your eyes, and she hates it even more knowing that she caused this. She wasn't expecting you to react that way, as she only left for a few minutes and this view almost makes her feel bad. Almost, because she knows that what she has brought you will make up for her mistake.

“I got a surprise for you…,” she said, but it was not much of a surprise as you could already see the stuffed toy she was trying to hide behind her back.

It is a black dragon that is almost your size, you saw it at the stand where you were playing earlier. You’ve spent dozens of minutes and dollars in that game without winning anything so you can’t believe that it took her less than five minutes to come back with the biggest prize.

“How did you do that?! It was impossible to win anything!” you exclaimed as the woman hands you the stuffed toy.

You immediately hug it, squeezing the dragon as tight as you can. It is the fluffiest and you’re already loving it. If you are a bit surprised that Natasha got you something that big, you’re trying to not think too much about it. She always tells you no for everything that could ruin the aesthetic of her house so you want to enjoy the plushie as much as you could before she changes her mind and takes it back.

“Thank you, I love it so much,” you told her, not letting it go, which made her laugh - the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

Even her knows that she’ll eventually regret it, but for the moment the smile on your face makes it all worth it. It became even more important than her house’s décoration.

“But?” she asked, frowning when she heard your tone, knowing that something else was keeping your mind busy.

“There is not but,” you replied, and this time it is your turn to frown at her question.

“I know when you’re lying, love,” she said, her hand brushing your hair away from your face so she could admire every feature of your face.

“... god, I hate when you do that, you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, perfectly knowing that she was right. You bury your face in her shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Even when you try your hardest to keep your thoughts for yourself, you are unable to do so. There is nothing you can hide from the woman because she is too good at reading people, her eyes seeing everything.

“Then tell me what’s in your mind, and maybe I'll stop being annoying,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh. She won’t say it because she doesn’t want you to be mad at her for real, but she finds it cute when you’re angry.

“I-didn’t-want-a-stuffed-toy-I-was-trying-to-win-one-for-you,” you replied, talking as fast as you could in hope she won’t retain anything of your rambling - which was doomed to failure.

You are a bit embarrassed by the situation because she succeeded so easily where you didn’t. For once, you wanted to be the one to give her a present, something you rarely have the chance to do because she is always the one who spoils you, but somehow she managed to turn the situation around once again, and you hate it.

She chuckles, relieved that it was nothing too serious. She gently grabs your chin to lift your head up and watch your expression. The moment she saw that hint of sadness in your eyes, she understood how affected you are by the situation, and she finds it surprising how something so insignificant in her eyes could be so important to yours.

“Then I could keep it and we’ll pretend that you won it for me, what do you think?” she asked, trying to cheer you up, not wanting to see that look on your face anymore.

“But that's not the same,” you whined, starting to complain about the unfair situation.

“Oh gosh, you're such a child,” she said, rolling her eyes at your answer - but even if she acts like your attitude is annoying her, deep down you know that she loves it. “Come,” she added, pulling you by the hand to guide you through the crowd after she handed the huge dragon to one of her men.

“Where are we going?” you tried to ask, but of course you don’t get an answer from the redhead.

When you eventually get to the stand where Natasha won the dragon and you lost your money, the showman looks at you with a wry grin. He recognizes you as the one who spent dozens of dollars in his game without winning anything and he is probably hoping that you are back with more money.

But as soon as his eyes landed on the redhead at your side, his face completely changed. He knew he messed up the second he noticed how her hand is resting at the bottom of your back as she guides you toward his stand. She puts down a bill, which the man takes with caution, probably thinking that there is a trap somewhere.

“We won’t need that,” she told him the moment the man made a move to give her one of the plastic weapons.

If he is about to protest, one glance from the woman is enough for him to understand that he would better keep his mouth shut. Instead, he watches her carefully as she takes her own gun out, a real one.

You are a bit confused when she puts the gun in your hands : it is the first time it happens. She has never let you touch anything that could be dangerous, and it obviously included her weapons. It has nothing in common with the fake guns you are used to, it is heavier and more impressive.

“Go on,” she said, trying to encourage you when she noticed you still haven’t made a move.

“What? With your gun?” you asked, unsure of what you are supposed to do now, “b- but I don’t know how.. I mean, I’ve never-,” you added when she nodded as an answer to your question, but she doesn’t give you time to argue.

“I know,” she cut you, already knowing what you were about to say, “but I’ll help you, don’t worry about it,” she added, putting her hands on your shoulder to turn you around so you’re facing the targets instead of her.

She stands behind you, and if you can’t see her, you could feel her hands roaming over your body. You’re barely listening to the advice she is whispering in your ears, your mind being entirely focused on her hands. She moves your shoulders and legs in the right position, then she wraps your hands with hers to be sure that you won’t miss this time. It requires even more concentration than earlier to not let yourself get distracted by your proximity with the redhead, so close that you could feel her breath on the back of your neck.

Even if it doesn’t feel right to do that, you shot. Three times, and you didn’t miss one, all the balloons popped under your eyes, granting you the victory. She immediately snatches the weapon from your hand, not wanting to leave it to you for more time than it’s necessary, but you don’t care, too happy about your victory.

“Theirs are rigged, you never stood a chance,” she simply said as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. If she understood what was the problem in one shot, why didn’t you after you’ve tried countless times?

You start to feel a bit stupid as the realization sinks in ; you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault, something you should've noticed on the first shot. You now understand why the showman was looking at you that way, he must have been happy to see someone that was dumb enough to spend all their money in his stand, from the beginning he knew you wouldn't win because no one that plays along the rules does.

“I am so proud of you, malyshka,” she added, the sound of her voice pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts - a deadly one.

The lower part of your back is now pressed against the stand, she turned you around so she could admire every feature of your face.

“Stop lying,” you mumbled, the expression on your face not matching the smile on hers - she is smiling but you want to cry, fearing that you might have disappointed her because of your mistakes.

“I am serious,” she immediately said, not leaving you a chance to argue. Her hand gently grabs your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet hers. “It even makes me want to see you try with live targets now, you must be so hot…,” she continued, her thumb brushing your cheek as she gets lost in the pleasant scene her mind is playing.

But you are not enjoying it as much as she does. A shiver of disgust shakes your body at this simple image, the one of your hands covered in the blood of your victim.

You are not a murderer, nor a monster.

Even after meeting the redhead and being dragged into her chaotic life, you’ve never done a thing that was illegal. If you know about her activities, she always makes sure that you are nothing more than a witness. She likes her women to be innocent, she used to toss them as soon as she felt their souls started to be corrupted, but she was slowly changing her mind.

For the first time, she wants to see her sweet thing with blood on her back. There is nothing that could please her more than to see the glimpse of darkness in your eyes growing until you are too deep in it to step back.

For the first time she wanted to fully introduce her girl to her reality.

She wanted to corrupt you as much as she wanted to protect your innocence. There is no word to describe how much she appreciates this oblivious expression of yours and, right now, she is not missing a thing about the one on your face. She revels in the mixture of fear and disgust she could read on your face.

“I was joking,” she sighed, “so don’t worry your pretty little head with that, okay baby?” she said and you believed her, nodding.

You couldn’t see the smirk on her face - the only hint that she was lying - because she leans forward to kiss the top of your head, her hand brushing your temple one last time before she pulls away. You immediately whine, trying to grip on her arm so she wouldn’t leave but this only makes her laugh.

“Go get your prize now, so we can get home,” she said, ignoring the pleading look you’re giving her to gesture towards the showman.

You turn around and, indeed, you see that the man was impatiently waiting for you to make your choice, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of you and your problematic girlfriend. You immediately point to one of the biggest stuffed toys, similar to yours, but before the showman could make a move, Natasha shook her head, showing that she disagrees with your choice. She takes your arm and gently moves it so you’re now pointing at the shelf where the smallest plushies are displayed.

“It’s one of those or nothing,” she said, her stern tone leaving no room for discussion.

She obviously doesn’t care about the pout on your face. She considers that she has already been pretty nice by gifting you that giant stuffed toy, so she definitely won’t bring a second one home.

“Fine …,” you replied, frustrated that you couldn’t freely choose, but it was the perfect opportunity to make her regret her decision.

You missed nothing of her expression when the showman took the strawberry bunny that was on the shelf. She rolled her eyes, obviously you choose the most childish of all, but she decides that the smile on your face as you’re handed it to her is worth everything. She gladly takes it, and even if she tries to pretend she doesn’t like it, you don’t fall for her lies. The kisses she lays on the top of your head, then on your lips, are enough to convince you to keep your sneaky words to yourself, enjoying the moment the two of you were sharing.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

#a spes writing #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #reader insert #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x y/n #black widow x reader #mob boss natasha romanoff #fluff writing

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usedtobecooler · 2 years

Note

Sorry I keep blowing up your inbox w virgin Eddie thots. I just have so many. 😓 latest since I’m currently suffering: Virgin Eddie + period sex

do not say sorry cause this had me feeling some type of way and it's given me inspo for the first time in a few days!!

part one // part two // part three // part four

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), period sex, mentions of tampon removal, eddie taking care of reader, eddie being endearing (when is he not), dirty talk, lots of fluff and reader being nice to eddie, reader also kind of snarks at him for being annoying, eddie professing his love for reader, no use of y/n. i think that's it? possibly. maybe.

word count | 3.6k

a/n | i made this way fluffier than any of my past stuff so this is really off brand for me. i'm also currently suffering on shark week and i'm definitely in my feelings about it so that probably explains it. reader is softer than her usual self here which gives eddie time for his more dominant, carer side to shine. hope u all love it.

You'd been doubled over on your chair all day, not even your heat pack and strongest pain killers were relieving your cramps. Everything hurt, everything ached, and you were being exceptionally snarky (even by your own standards) for no reason.

It was quiet in the store, a weird Tuesday where the weather was putting off anybody from stepping foot out of their house. Misty, grey, dull and wet. A bit like you were feeling yourself, almost like the sky knew you weren't on top form and was sympathizing with you.

Eddie was whistling along to whatever crap he'd put on the store's boom box; in the back of your mind, you think it's Motley Crue but you can't even find it in you to tune into the song enough to make it out properly.

You felt anxious, every little noise creeping into your ears and booming loud, making you feel like your head was about to explode. You hated to admit it, but Eddie's voice in particular was grating on you, every time he opened his mouth you wanted to snark at him, tell him to shut the fuck up.

You were trying your best to block him out before you blew up at him, twirling in your chair a little for comfort whilst you redundantly pressed the useless heat pack closer to your aching tummy, when he suddenly jumps out of nowhere at your side and starts doing the air guitar to a particularly loud and annoying solo.

"Eddie, shut the fuck up. You're driving me up the fucking wall." You snap, voice stern, angry, gruff, and it makes him stop in his tracks, looking crestfallen. You'd usually feel bad, but not today. He'd been pushing your buttons since you opened up, albeit he wasn't doing anything wrong and wasn't meaning to upset you, but your temper was short, and he wasn't getting the fucking hint.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly, big puppy dog eyes looking apologetic and sad, "M'sorry, sweetheart. I know you're not feeling good, I was just tryin' to make you laugh."

Your face softens a little, the guilt creeping in as you look at Eddie's sad features, "I'm sorry, handsome. I'm just exhausted these cramps are wiping me out." You sigh, groaning a little as your tummy coils up unpleasantly, radiating pain throughout your belly, back and legs.

Eddie comes over to lean over the counter, rubbing at your shoulder softly, and you melt into the touch, tense body slackening under his fingertips, "You know, I read in a girly magazine-" Eddie cuts himself off, like he's pondering on if he should actually continue on his sentence, you egg him on by nodding your head, "it was in the doctor's office, okay?"

"Hey, I never said anything." You hold your hands up in self-defense, giggling a little and trying to ignore how Eddie's inner brat jumps out as he rolls his eyes and lets his hand fall from your shoulder. You make a show of pouting until his hand comes back out, this time brushing down your arm.

"Anyway, in this girly magazine there was this article, about how to relieve menstrual cramps..." Eddie cringes at himself, screwing his face up at his wording and you laugh properly then, "Apparently, orgasms are the best way to relieve the pain. Something about the hormones it releases."

You balk at him a little, dumbfounded by the fact that he, for one, chose that article out of all of the pages in a women's magazine. And, for two, that he actually took in what the article said and stored it somewhere in the back of his head, almost like a mental note for if this were to ever happen.

He furrows his brows at you, "Is that- is that not right?" He asks, cocking his head a little, tips of his fingers still brushing your arm absentmindedly, "I thought since it was in a girly mag it'd be true."

"No, I mean I think it's true, I've heard that before." You shrug, trying to ignore the ache in your back at a particularly strong cramp, "But I don't really like to touch myself when I'm on my period. I'm usually too sore to focus and it makes a mess."

"Well," Eddie starts, cheeks flushing dark and his breath shaking, "I'd be more than... more than happy to help you with that. If y'want."

You suck your cheeks in, looking at him with narrowed eyes for a second before they soften, and you're pretty sure if he looked at you properly, he'd see the love hearts swirling round in your irises, "You're the sweetest boy I've ever met, Eddie Munson. Don't feel like you have to do that, though, I've gone like at least ten years on my period and am yet to do that."

"I'd like to," Eddie cuts in all too quickly, and now you wonder if he's doing this for your sake or his own morbid curiosity, though you suspect it's somehow both, "I'd like to help you feel better, that is. I don't - I don't mind the mess."

"Well, okay then." You shrug, trying to ignore the way that your thighs clench a little at the thought of Eddie touching you whilst you're menstruating. It was never something you'd thought about before, but now that Eddie had said about it, you wondered just how much you'd actually be into it.

"We can go to my place, uh, Wayne's gone until tomorrow, took a double shift for the extra money." Eddie rambles, like he has to justify every single detail to you. It's cute, endearing almost.

You nod your head in reply, subtly drifting your eyes to the clock and realizing there were still four hours left until closing. You couldn't help but wish the time away.

***

Eddie ushers you into the trailer slowly, a hand hovering over your lower back in a soothing motion, "You can go to my room and make yourself at home, sweetheart. I'll go get some, like, towels or something?"

"Towels should work, handsome. I don't think it's bad enough to justify a tarp." You say it as a joke as you toe your Docs off, but Eddie's eyes widen comically, "It was a joke. Though a tarp would be easier to clean."

You saunter off through to Eddie's room, sliding a comic book off of his desk and plopping down on the bed. You have no interest in it as you flip through the pages, tummy doing flips for two reasons now - your obvious cramps, but also the nervousness of what was about to happen.

You? Nervous? This never happened. You and Eddie had only had actual sex once, but you were in control, in a situation you'd been in plenty before. You showed him the ropes and took charge, that was your comfort zone. This was... different.

There's no more time to worry and ponder when Eddie comes bursting through the door carrying an array of things he thought you might need. Pain killers, a bottle of water, two towels and what looked like one of his oversized, ratty Metallica shirts.

Your heart melted a little. Eddie was just so, so sweet. You couldn't believe nobody had snatched him up before now, he was caring and attentive to you, albeit a bit fumbly and nervous but you think that's just because of how you are towards him.

He had the biggest heart. To match his dick.

"D'you need these before we start?" Eddie asks quietly, pulling you out of your trance and shaking the bottle of pills at you. You can tell he's nervous too, his breathing all jagged and his hand holding the pills jittering enough for you to notice.

"No, no, that's okay. I took a few before we left the store so they should start kicking in soon. Hand me the towels, would ya?" You lift yourself up off the bed, gently plucking the towels from Eddie's open arm. You strip his comforter out of the way in silence, laying the towels flat and spreading them out as well as you could. His twin bed was small enough that it covered just fine, but you spent extra time focusing on it and trying to block out the pounding in your ears.

Eddie's warm hands on the base of your spine jolt you out of your thinking, you melt into the touch slightly and lean back against his chest. He huffs into your hair, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, sweetheart. Was just a suggestion."

"I'm just used to knowing everything and showing you the ropes. I dunno how to do any of this and I'm worried I'll gross you out." You say it matter of factly, making sure that as always you have the upper hand in showing him that you don't panic and you're always in control.

"S'not gonna gross me out, it's you. What if we... what if we did this in the shower instead? Would that make you feel better?" Eddie suggests, voice barely above a whisper and a clear nervousness breaking through. He's worried you're going to say no, you can tell.

You don't want his second time to be messy in a shower. But you make note of it for another time, now that you knew that was something he was clearly into.

You turn in his arms, shaking your head and nudging up to press your lips to his softly, just a brief kiss. But, Eddie grabs hold of your waist gently, deepening the kiss and forcing you to stay in place when you went to move away.

He's still not a good kisser, you make a mental note of that. He's still sloppy and giving too much tongue but you can't help but suck on it, causing a moan to escape him as he nudges you back towards the end of the bed until the backs of your knees knock on it. You fall backwards with a small thump and Eddie's lips never leave yours as you shuffle up the bed, until your head is cushioned by his one lonely pillow.

"What do you want me to do?" Eddie asks gently once your lips part, soothing your hip with his big hand. You keen into the touch, loving the feeling of how soft his hand was, unwinding how tight you felt with nerves.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do, pretty boy." You start, and Eddie's eyebrows furrow at you, "You can finger me, if you wanna? You can just stick to rubbing my clit, though."

Eddie doesn't humor you with a reply, simply tucking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings to drag them down your legs and off in one swift motion. You raise a brow as he goes to strip his jeans off as well, leaving him in a pair of tight black boxers which you swear you've never seen him wear before.

They leave nothing to the imagination - you sit up on your forearms for a better look at his half hard cock already straining a little. You catch it kicking up in interest as you stare at it with wide eyes.

"Theyre - they're new." Eddie stutters over his words, flushing a dark shade of red and there's the Eddie you know all too well, all flustered and embarrassed.

"They look great, Eddie." You say with a strained voice, gasping as he slides back onto the bed and in between your spread thighs, only your respective underwear and shirts blocking your touch. "I still have a tampon in so that I, like, don't leak everywhere."

Eddie slides his palm over your hot cunt, eliciting another small gasp from you. It makes you feel, well, weird. And kind of dirty. But he doesn't seem to care, as his fingers pull the material of your panties to the side and he dips the tips in between your folds, seeking out the tampon string.

"Can I take it out?" He asks, eyes wide in earnest as if he doesn't realize how strange and weird of a request it is. You cringe a little, falling onto your back so you don't have to look at him whilst you nod your head yes.

It's not like you to be so mortified by something so normal, always one to not be a priss and try anything at least once. This just makes you feel vulnerable, and Eddie is so inexperienced that it makes you question if he knows that this isn't necessarily 'normal' to do during sex.

You throw your forearm over your eyes and squeeze them shut as you feel Eddie's fingers grab the string and tug your tampon out gently, then the telltale sign of him lifting off the mattress, clearly leaving to dispose of it.

His footsteps come back quickly; you feel the bed dip as he gets back onto it and snug back in between your spread legs. Then, you gasp as he runs two fingers back in between your folds, this time to slide them through and gather some slickness.

You let your arm fall from your face, plucking up the courage to finally look back at him and he's smiling with this dumb look on his face. It makes your cunt clench around nothing - you didn't realize through all your nervousness that you were clearly into this, slick mixing in with your menstrual blood to make things extra wet.

Eddie doesn't seem to care about the blood at all, swirling his fingers around like you'd previously taught him to, finally catching them on your clit and rubbing in slow circles. He leans over the top of you, mouth against your neck to press a sweet kiss, "Does this feel good?"

You nod your head, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your soft skin, goosebumps blooming down your arms. He probably didn't mean for his words to sound dirty, but they did, made you flush warm with want for him.

His fingers slip through the mixture of fluids with ease, rubbing relentlessly on your clit until you're a whining, shaking mess under him. Somehow, this feels more intense than it ever has before, and you can't tell if that's because of you being on your period, Eddie taking the lead or a mixture of both.

"E-Eddie," You choke, hips jolting up of their own accord, a loud whine escaping your lips, suddenly you're aware of how submissive you're being but you can't find it in you to care, "f-feels so good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, fingers rubbing at your clit with purpose, clearly trying to get you there and it's working, "Y'gonna come?"

Eddie can sound so dirty without even trying and you feel your cunt clench, can feel your warm fluids dripping down your ass, pooling there and probably making such a mess. It shouldn't be as hot as it is, you shouldn't be as turned on as you are, but it feels so dirty and Eddie loves it more than you do and it's making your brain short circuit.

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut but Eddie's free hand grips at your jaw, shaking your head a little until your eyes reopen to see him staring at you intently, "Look at me whilst I finger you, sweetheart. Wanna see you come undone on my hands."

You gasp, the coil in your belly tightening at Eddie's vulgar words, the loud slick sounds of your cunt being violated by his hands filling the air and engulfing all of your senses. Your mouth opens in a soundless moan and Eddie sees that as an opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth.

"Suck on it." He says it like it's casual and like he's told you to do it before, the way you obey and immediately begin licking and sucking at his calloused fingertip makes you question yourself, but then his fingertips dig into your cheeks a little rough and any thought leaves your brain.

Your body feels like a livewire, tummy tensing up impossibly tighter. You're looking into Eddie's glassy dark eyes, his puffy pink lips open slightly as he stares you down, feeling every catch and drag of his fingers on your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you're biting down gently on Eddie's thumb, moaning and squeezing your eyes tight as you come so hard you see stars.

"That's my girl." Eddie grins, rubbing your clit slowly as he works you through it, not stopping until you're trying to clench your legs shut from oversensitivity.

You open your eyes again just in time to catch him wiping his fingers on the towel below you, a creamy dark pink colour staining the grey fabric. You're still trying to catch your breath, can feel your shirt clinging to your back with sweat.

You grab Eddie by the front of his own shirt and pull him down to kiss you, all needy as you gasp into his open mouth, tongue lapping in to drag against his own.

Eddie moans, shuddering against you as his hands roam up under your shirt, soothing the hot, damp skin under his fingertips. You slide your own hand down his torso, grabbing at a handful of his hard cock through his boxers and squeezing until he bucked into your hand with a whine.

You're honestly surprised he didn't come in his pants again, it seemed to be a running theme with him. Not that you minded, you liked having that power over him.

"Can I..." Eddie breathes into your mouth, cut off with another groan as you attacked his neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, "Can I fuck you?"

You nod into his neck, hands deftly sliding over the waistband of his boxers, blindly tugging them down his thighs as you continued your assaults on his pale skin.

You grab a hold of his cock by the base when it springs out of his underwear, giving it a few quick tugs for good measure, which has Eddie shivering and almost collapsing on top of you. You slide the wet head of his dick in between your folds, shuddering at the wet sounds as it catches on your entrance.

Eddie has no patience and shoves his hips forward, sliding into you with ease. He grips at your hips tightly, sucking in a shaky breath as he bottoms out, "Jesus, you're so fucking wet."

You clench around his cock at his words and he positively mewls, pulling out a little and thrusting back into you, eyes tearing away from you to look down at where your bodies meet, the absolute mess you're both making. He's so mesmerized, watching how your cunt sucks him in so well with every thrust, "Your pussy is so greedy."

It tumbles out like word vomit, but there's no embarrassment in Eddie's eyes when yours fly open to look at him, watch him looking at your cunt with hearts in his eyes. You cry out, hips bucking of their own accord as his thrusts pick up, finally gaining a good rhythm and abusing your gspot with ease.

"Harder, Eddie, please," You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes as he doubles down his efforts and leans over you, fucking into you harder, faster than before. His curls are matted to his forehead, this wild look on his face as you lean up to brush his hair back, fingers gripping into it at the crown of his head so your foreheads are touching, "You're so fucking pretty like this."

Eddie lets out a shaky laugh, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "Don't say that, I'm gonna come." He grits his teeth, hips beginning to falter and stutter.

Your soft spot is being abused by his cock, grazing at it with every thrust and you too feel your orgasm impending on you, "Come with me then. Come in my wet pussy."

Eddie whimpers, that in turn makes your cunt throb around him and he's shoving his cock into you so hard you move up the bed a little, the slick sounds invading your senses and making you clench sporadically until you're coming with a loud shout of his name.

"Fuckfuckfuck, god you're so tight, fuck." Eddie's babbling nonsense, clearly struggling at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in so well, then he's coming too, hips stilling as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

You watch him in awe, you don't think you'll ever get fed up of watching him come undone inside of you the way that he does. He's so perfect it makes you feel like you're suffocating every time you look at him.

He collapses down on top of you, breathing heavily as you pet his hair gently, soothing him quietly, "I think I'm in love with you, fuck."

"I'm in love with me too." You say jokily, trying to hide the way your words come out panicky, though you're sure Eddie can hear your heart going a million miles an hour under his head.

Eddie barks out a laugh into your chest, snuggling up a little, "You'll say it back eventually." He shrugs, nonchalantly like he could care less that you brushed off his confession.

Little did he know how much you'd been in love with him from the day you set your eyes on him. But that was a conversation for another day.

"Yeah, yeah. We need to get up before these towels stain your bed." You giggle, "That was... perfect, by the way. Thank you for always taking such good care of me."

"So long as your cramps are a bit better." Eddie sighs sleepily, snuggling into you a little more. You lie there a bit longer before you're shoving him out of the bed to clean up, worried he'd fall asleep in the mess.

If you followed him into the shower and sucked his cock clean later, then nobody needed to know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #my fanfic #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #virgin!eddie #virgin!eddie munson

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sweetiecutie · 1 year

Text

Pairing: yandere!Tom Riddle x gn!Reader

Synopsis: no one can take you away from Tom, not even Death itself

Warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, non-sexual nudity, dark forces, mention of death and bodies, reader’s gender not specified

You felt weird. Your ears were filled with buzzing white noise, mind racing but also completely muddled up. You inhaled sharply, searing pain surged through all of your body at the feeling of your lungs expanding. It felt like your insides were set ablaze all at once. Rattling cough tore through your throat, filling your mouth with the some thick slime-like substance that you quickly spat out, gulping desperately on cold air in fast shallow breaths.

From what your overwhelmed senses could tell - you were laying down on some kind of flooring - which felt more like bare stone. You struggled to get yourself into sitting position, hard cobbles dug into your flesh painfully, causing you to shiver violently from both cold and discomfort.

You cracked your eyes open, blinking rapidly a few times to get the same sticky slimey stuff out of your eyes. It was very dark around- or was it your unstable state? Heavy steps could be heard, coming in your direction; your body tensed impossibly more, head snapping in direction of nearing man(?), hands roaming the ground underneath you, trying to find something - anything - to defend yourself with.

- Shhhhh, dearest, it’s just me. You’re safe, - a familiar voice spoke soothingly, your body relaxing at the dear sound of it.

- Tom? - you whispered, eyes flickering in all directions haphazardly, trying to distinguish male’s slim figure in thick darkness.

Tom fell to his knees next to you, muttering quiet ‘Lumos’, dim ray of light coming from the tip of his wand blinded you temporarily. You heard some soft shuffling before a thick woolen cloak was wrapped tightly around your shuddering frame.

You managed to crack your eyes open, finally being abele to look around. You peeked down at yourself - your body looked raw - as if you spent hours emerged in hot water - skin was a bringt pink color, extremely sensitive to the smallest of touches - just like an infant in first minutes of its life. You were completely bare, some weird slippery substance was covering every part of you, cooling your body down unpleasantly.

Your eyes wandered up to Tom. His face was gaunt - cheeks looked as hollow as ever; dark eyes you loved so much were unusually sunken, dark purplish circles you knew he got from sleepless nights were laying underneath them; his beautiful lips were chopped and pale, lacking their usual plushness; lush shiny waves of brown hair laying so elegantly on his forehead now looked bleak and brittle. Tom looked ill - as if he was struggling from protracted ailment. But even despite his miserable -you could’ve never thought of using this adjective for describing Tom Riddle- appearance, his eyes were sparkling maniacally, like diamonds in finest of the jewelry.

- Tom, what happened? I don’t understand… - you inquired quietly. Your throat felt way too tight, making your voice sound shaky and weak, and you struggled to get words out. You felt Tom wrapping his arms tightly around you, bringing you to his chest in a tight embrace.

- Everything’s all right now, my love. It’s okay, you are safe with me, - Tom muttered more to himself, rocking you from side to side gently.

You took a look at your surroundings - it looked like you were inside of a huge dark cave of some sorts, rough wet stones were forming walls and ceiling of the cavity, you could hear water dripping down the stalactites all around, hitting the rocks underneath with loud echoing sounds. What caught your attention were deep involute lines carved deeply into stone ground, forming an intricate designs all around you, slightest red glow was still visible emanating from them.

There were dead bodies laying all around. About a dozen of men and women, some of them you recognized as Tom’s devoted followers, were splayed around what seemed to be a transfiguration circle. There were no injuries nor blood on them visible. In fact, they looked fully normal if it wasn’t for their dull eyes and looks of absolute horror etched on their lifeless faces.

And then suddenly pictures flashed before your eyes - Tom’s face, still full of health and youthful beauty, covered in grime and blood, was gazing down at you, his eyes sparkling with shiny tears. What was that? Why was he crying? And then, like in some kind of drunken haze, you looked down at yourself - a huge crimson blotch was growing bigger and bigger on your robes, saturating soft cotton fabric in warm sticky blood. You looked back up at Tom - he was full on crying now, babbling “don’t leave me” and “please, don’t die” over and over again, trembling hands pressing down onto your chest, trying to stop the blood flow.

What was he talking about? Why would you die? You tried to say it, to console your silly boy, reassure that there’s no way you would leave him - but no sound came out of your throat, no matter how hard you tried. Your mouth filled with sickening metallic taste of your own blood, black clouding your vision rapidly.

And now you remembered. Those were your memories - your last ones - before you died.

But how was this all possible? Here you were, blood and flesh, warm and breathing and surely alive, in welcoming arms of your lover.

- Tom? What have you done?.. - horror mixed with shock slowly crept up your back, all the way to your chest and throat, making it even harder to breath than before.

- Nothing will ever hurt you again. I won’t let that happen, I promise, - Tom uttered next to your ear, his body shaking with soundless sobs as he held you even closer to himself,

- I will keep you safe, away from all dangers. You will know no worries nor fears. It will be just the two of us, in our perfect world we’ve always dreamed of. Forever.

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iamasaddie · 11 months

Text

some rotten man

paring: dark!Joel x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 1,2k~ summary: you really never thought you'd need this type of training. a/n: I'm all flavors of fucked up and so is Joel, make sure you check out the warnings before you proceed with reading! Special thanks to the literal love of my life, my emotional support human and beta @bearsbeetsbeskar <;3 warnings: dead dove do not eat; PWP (for real, no plot at all); implied non-con; explicit sexual content; rough oral sex (m receiving); degradation; spitting; face slapping (barely); no use of y/n ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪʀʟ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

"Now, my little slut, you're going to open that fucking mouth of yours and I'm going to fuck it until you're so full that my cum gushes out of it. Do you understand me?"

You trembled under the man's towering figure, his bloodied hand gripping your hair so tight that tears started welling up in your red eyes.

"I can't fuckin' hear you, baby girl."

"Ye- yes." You stuttered out and nodded, but didn't do anything else to show your consent.

“Well then what are you waiting for, darlin'? Stick that bratty tongue of yours out."

You opened your mouth, following his command. A deep inhale made your throat dry, but when you saw him pulling his cock out your throat became sandpaper. Joel’s cock was massive even with his height and broad frame. It was big to the point that even under different circumstances you'd find it terrifying. The head was deep dusty pink, slit glistening with beads of precum. He was thick, veins covering the shaft made it look even bigger and more intimidating. You tried to swallow with your tongue still licking air, but your throat just contracted, walls sticking to each other unpleasantly.

"You look hungry, little one,” Joel barked a laugh, “let me help you with that.”

He slapped his dick on your tongue, letting you feel the weight of it, before leaning back and furrowing his brows. Joel looked at you, your pathetic position sent shivers down his spine. There was just this one little thing… Before you could even brace yourself, you felt before seeing him spitting directly onto your tongue, and then putting his cock back where he thought it belonged. “Oh, yeah,” he almost sang with pleasure, “that’s better, isn't it?”

You just stayed still, getting used to the foreign weight in your mouth, the meat of his cock filling you completely even though you saw he wasn't halfway in. His hips rocked violently, the tip hitting the back of your throat and he threw his head back. His moan would be deafening if it didn't drown in the sound of you gagging and coughing. You knew that if you'd had anything to eat in the last few days it'd be already all over him. Reflexively, you pushed back as far as you could with your hands tied behind your back. One second his cock fell out of your mouth, and the next a loud slap and a burning sensation on your left cheek made tears spring out of your eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, hm?” Joel grabbed your cheeks painfully squeezing them between his fingers and yanked you back so hard that your face met his crotch. “Stupid fucking slut," his hand twisted in your hair, roping it around his fist. “We're just getting started.”

You didn't know if he was offended or excited by your physical reaction, but the next time he snapped his cock into your mouth he went even rougher, keeping you tightly pressed even when you started coughing and suffocating on it.

"You either control your breath or you're gonna die on my fat cock, baby.”

His tone was playful, but by the way he gripped your head you knew he was dead serious. You tried to calculate his rhythm and the intensity of his thrusts to get a small window of opportunity to get some air into your lungs even if the air you breathed was filling you with the man just as much. The heavy odor of his musk and a salty hint of sweat.

With each movement of his hips he filled you a little bit more, you were almost grateful to him for not trying to squeeze his whole dick into your throat in one thrust. You didn't know if minutes passed, or hours, the only thing you felt was the overwhelming thickness of his cock in your throat and the pulsating sensation when he stayed inside it for a moment too long. He moaned, enjoying the feeling of your throat contracting around his aching shaft, trying to violently push it out when he forced it to stay in place.

"Fuck, little one, I might just stay in your throat forever.” He whispered harshly, and it felt like his grip on your head became almost gentle as he let go of your hair and scratched the back of your skull with blunt fingernails.

By the time he pulled his cock out of your mouth you thought this was never going to end. You felt your throat burning, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, tears streamed down your cheeks in an uncontrollable stream.

"Not bad for a first, hm, baby?"

You couldn't answer, vocal chords betraying you, but Joel wasn't one to talk into the void. Once again he grabbed you by the hair, yanking it so hard you could swear he ripped a strand or two as he forced you to make eye-contact with him, his glistening cock a threat in front of your lips. "I asked you a fucking question."

"Yes." Your voice was hoarse and barely above whisper.

"Yes what, slut?"

"Yes, Sir."

Talking hurt even more than swallowing his massive shaft down your throat, it was like sandpaper scraping open wounds. Of course he couldn't pass up an opportunity to mention it.

"Got my little cockslut's throat fucked up, didn't I?" His smile was full of animalistic pride as he tutted and shook his head. Joel reached for your cheek with his hand and you braced yourself for another slap, but only a cruelly gentle caress followed. "It's okay, little one, I have the perfect medicine that's gonna cure all the soreness. Open up," he patted your chin, "come on, fucktoy, I'm not going to repeat myself."

As soon as you opened your trembling lips that were already torn on the edges from his abuse, he was quick to shove his cock inside your warmth. By the way you felt it throb on your tongue as it slid further down your throat, you knew that he was close. The man above you was groaning, with every violent thrust of his hips the rough material of his jeans met your burning skin, making you wince. You felt his hand slowly descend from the back of your head and curl around your throat. It was huge, big enough to easily grab half of your neck. You were barely able to inhale between his thrusts and you were terrified that if he squeezed you a bit harder he'd just end up shooting a load down a corpse's throat. But it wasn't his intention. Instead, he tightened his grip just right to feel his cock down your throat but at the same time not cutting off your air flow completely.

“Ughh,” his groan was primal, reverberating from the depths of his chest and vibrating through all of his body. "Perfect. Fucking. Slut.” Each word was accentuated with a thrust, deeper and deeper, you wouldn’t be surprised if your chin was bruised from his efforts already. He squeezed your throat harder than before and moaned as he could almost feel his thick and salty load dripping down the inside of your throat. When you started thrashing, he finally noticed that your face got dangerously purple from the lack of breathing and pulled out, opting to squeeze your bruised cheeks instead.

"That's it, baby, good job." He cooed with a sick sweetness. "You need some training, but it's okay. We've got all the time in the world, and I'm an excellent teacher."

#joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #serenaxpedro writes #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #dark smut #dark!Joel x reader #iamasaddie fic

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ah0rmone · 3 months

Text

Alhaitam x fem!reader

warnings: minors dni! dubcon, drugs (aphrodisiac), fingering, piv, no condom, multiple orgasms (fem)

"Ah!" you rushed to cover your face but it was too late - a pink cloud had already engulfed you, the sweet scent tickling your nostrils, powder substance descending to your lungs. In a futile attempt of saving yourself, you quickly stumbled backwards only for your back to meet warm chest of Alhaitam.

"What did you do?" the man asked with a flat, uninterested voice like a tired babysitter would ask a mischievous toddler.

Usually you would get angry or, at least, irritated at his dismissive tone but at that moment you were too scared of possible consequences of a suspicious substance invading your organism.

"I think i just got poisoned. We have to go back!" you turned to him, hands still clutching at your throat as if you could stop the poison from spreading.

Alhaitam slowly scanned your form from feet to a worried face and then walked right past you to a wall you've just touched. He didn't seem concerned for your well-being (not like he ever did), but then again, why would he? You weren't close.

Tonight both of you came to inspect newly discovered ruins in the desert and, possibly, learn more about the history of your homeland. Usually Alhaitam had no interest in such expeditions and you used to come with your fellow students but this time, to your immense disappointment, the one who got to accompany you was no other than the acting Grand Sage himself. Honestly, you had no idea why he had to go with you but you assumed that it was none of your business. Either way even if he wasn't the friendliest academic, he still was very smart and, not to mention, hot. So you didn't mind him joining THIS much.

After going through a bunch of tunnels and dusty rooms you two had successfully found a bunch of secret passages and puzzles that you easily cracked. That was until you encountered what was looking like a hidden storage in a wall and tried to open it. Unsuccessfully.

"Alhaitam?" you called to his back while he was scrutinizingly inspecting the wall.

"You're not going to die, it's not a deadly poison," he said after some time.

"What is it then?"

"Not a deadly poison."

You felt your irritation rising. You were trying really hard to keep your panic in control, so him being evasive didn't help much. As you opened your mouth to curse at him, he finally faced you:

"But we should go back, we're done here."

And then he left the room.

Even though you felt a slight dissatisfaction because you didn't complete your research, you hurried after him. Not a deadly poison was still a poison and you wished to get as much closer to civilization as possible when symptoms started to kick in. You wished you knew what you were dealing with but Alhaitam was the hardest person to crack, so you didn't even try to.

That was until after some time of walking back you started to feel impossibly hot. The feeling of your clothes was weighing you down, the fabric unpleasantly rubbing your skin. It wasn't the worst though. The worst part was when you noticed how good Alhaitam was smelling, even though he was walking far forward from you. How his back muscles flexed under his top. And how wet your pussy got from just thinking about him embracing you in a tight hug, pressing your bodies together.

Stop.

Wet?

You tried to get back in control of your emotions, but your head was spinning and you were losing the grip on reality. Absentmindedly, you realised that you leaned on a cool corridor wall. It didn't help much. With your eyes closed you started to take in all the feelings around you: a loud thumping of your heart, a tender caressing of a draft emerging from a small hole in the ceiling, an uncomfortable rubbing of your panties across your clit and, then, rough fingertips tilting your head up.

You slowly opened your eyes meeting a scrutinizing gaze of Alhaitam. His alluring lips, his strong neck that you would very much like to pepper with wet kisses, the warmth of his body that was calling out to you...

You wanted to tell him to get away, to not let you use him while you couldn't even control yourself, to not cross the line in your relationship of fellow colleagues but you couldn't. Instead you put your hands on his shoulders, a barely audible whisper leaving your lips "Please, help me, it's unbearable." And leaned in for a kiss.

Alhaitam wasn't the victim, however, but more than a willing participant: he pulled you closer by your neck deepening the kiss while the other hand quickly worked its way into your pants. When his fingers brushed over your clit you whole body jerked. So far it was nothing but a light indirect contact and yet you already felt on the edge. You were already soaking wet, desperate beyond words, your mind struggling to keep up with your body and your body rushing to get release. The shared kiss was becoming sloppier and wetter, his whole body was pushing into you, leaving you no room for maneuver. His finger slipped in, then another. Alhaitam didn't like beating around the bush, instead he enjoyed going straight to his goal - this time it was for you to cum. His lips moved to your neck, sucking and licking, his other hand slithered under your shirt to your breasts. He knew what he was doing, where he should touch and where to kiss. It wasn't surprising that the Sage was a really smart man, however, you'd lie if you expected him to be this skilled in sex.

Because of the aphrodisiac - now you knew what you were dealing with - your sensitivity was increased tenfold, so everything felt unbearably overwhelming. His hot breath, strong, confident fingers, the feeling of utter submission because you were quickly turning into a wet, sobbing, whining mess with only one, very pathetic thought in mind:

"Make me cum!" you begged choking on your moans and felt Alhaitam smirking in the crook of your neck.

However, he didn't resort to teasing, instead he increased the speed of his fingers and few seconds later you got what you begged for: the white flashed before your eyes, you orgasmed, intensely and overwhelmingly, your mind blanking, hips shaking and vision blurring.

But it wasn't enough and he knew it:

"This was one. Two more to go," Alhaitam said pulling away. His fingers left you with a "plop" and you saw how wet and sticky they were.

"Two?.." you asked, voice shaking. A temporary relief had gone already, your lust coming back quickly.

However, Alhaitam didn't waste a second as he picked you up and brought to the nearest room. It was stuffy and dusty and the only source of light was an ajar door to the corridor. Naturally you would stop him and say that it was unhygienic but right now your thoughts felt like melted marshmallows: they were mixing with each other, tangling and as much as you tried to concentrate it seemed that all the blood had gone to your genitals.

You felt him taking his cape off and dropping it somewhere before he lowered you on a cold stone table. The fabric wasn't thick enough to soften your uncomfortable position but, at least, it was less dirty this way.

"I'm going to take your clothes off," not a question or even a suggestion, just a fact. It seemed that Alhaitam's uncompromising attitude carried to the bedsheets as well.

Before you realised it you were laying bare-naked in the underground ruins with the Great Sage hovering over your squirming form. His soft lips touched your ear shell as he began licking and sucking, all the while his left hand was circling and playing with your nipples. While you were focusing on his ministrations on your upper body, he spread your legs and his fingers slipped in again.

"Oh my-! I'm so sensitive, Alhaitam, please, don't stop!" you cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. If you were in a more mindful state you would definitely try to give back to him but not now. Now you were giving yourself to him, allowing him to have full control of your body.

"Stop squirming," he growled while his fingers were repeatedly penetrating you. You didn't listen (you really couldn't), so he pressed you down with his own body. This close proximity made you realise that even if he wasn't subjected to aphrodisiac he still was turned on by this situation. You felt his bulge as he rubbed it upon your naked thigh.

Never in a thousand of years you would think it was possible but just a mere thought of him being hard from this, because of you, tripped you over the edge.

"Hm, it was even quicker," he mumbled like you weren't a fellow researcher but just a test subject. Perhaps, that was exactly what this situation was for him - just an experiment. Yet a shiver ran over you. Somehow the realisation that you were completely at his mercy, utterly submitted to him, made you go completely crazy with lust. You couldn't pronounce words anymore, it took everything in you to look him in the eyes, brush your palm over his bulge and beg:

"This!"

You thought it was the first time you saw him actually surprised. It showed only in his eyes and only for a mere second but that brief moment of your assertiveness not just caught him off guard but made him see you from a different perspective. Yes, it was a rather embarrassing and needy request. But at that moment you didn't feel like a subject at all. No, you were an equal partner. You saw him freeze for a second, visually contemplating.

"Alright, if you insist," he smirked after some seconds.

His hands left your body to tug down his pants a little. Your eyes darted down in a horny attempt of seeing his dick but you managed to catch only a glimpse when his hand tugged your chin up, his body laying back down on yours.

"Have some decency," he accused before his tongue slipped in your mouth.

While his left hand was cupping your cheek keeping your kiss messy and hungry, another parted your knees apart, allowing him to sneak between them.

You felt it. His penis pressing on your entrance. It felt hot and big and you couldn't take it anymore so your hips rose up to meet his. A palm pushed you back down.

"Behave," he growled strictly, his mouth lowering to bite your shoulder.

You were almost crying, unable to wait anymore, ready to beg and whine and promise him anything in the world if he just puts it in.

But you didn't have to. AlHaitam didn't see a reason in waiting a second longer either.

He didn't rush in though, he entered you slow, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. When he finally bottomed out, you cried, feeling full and warm and impatient, though you tried to stay obedient, and when he finally started moving you begged for his lips again.

At that point Alhaitam stopped holding back, his pace increasing, becoming rougher, it was impossible to keep kissing anymore, instead he bit your lip.

"So good for me," he praised, pounding you into the table.

You legs were trembling, your tired arms gripping his shoulders. Waves of pleasure were crashing you and you couldn't hold back anymore orgasming the strongest you have ever had: your whole body spasmed, a loud scream escaped your lips and your eyes rolled back so hard, you stopped seeing for a moment.

When you came back from your high you realised that Alhaitam stopped. His dick was still inside you, hard, but you felt completely spent.

"How do you feel?" he looked at you attentively.

"Tired," you managed to mutter.

Everything ached: your head, your body, your pussy. You really wanted nothing but a good cold glass of water and a comfortable bed. However, you couldn't not feel sorry that Alhaitam didn't cum. After all, you could still feel him inside of you, hard as rock.

"Listen, if you want to-," you tried saying that he could finish if he wanted to, you could endure it a little bit longer, but he cut you off pulling out of you:

"I'm good."

You could see his big dick now that showed that he was definitely good before but not now.

"No, let me-," you attempted to stand up but your body didn't seem to listen to you. You would have fallen down if Alhaitam didn't catch you in time.

"Don't be ridiculous, you can't even stand," he helped you to seat and pointed at a pile of clothes next to you. "Put your clothes on and let's leave."

"But you helped me. I feel obligated now to return the favour," you protested weakly but followed his command.

"Good. Because you will return it. Just not here right now."

You turned to look at him in surprise but wasn't fast enough to see a smirk on his lips. To you he appeared characteristically stoic and cold.

"You squirmed all over my cape."

#genshin impact smut #al haitam x reader #al haitam smut #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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moris-auri · 5 months

Text

King and Lionheart

Aemond x reader (mentions of Aegon x reader)

WC: 3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, p in v sex, explicit

Prince Aemond has summoned you.

It is the last thing she expects.

To be summoned by Aegon is one thing, but by his brother? The very thought of it fills her stomach with a sense of dread that she’s not felt for ages. Her stomach twists unpleasantly, a wave of bile rising like sour wine in the back of her throat, tasting bitterly like the food she’d eaten not that long ago.

She glances downward, seeing but not seeing the words etched onto the pages of the tome settled atop her knees, fingers tightening as she grips the spine of it with near whitened knuckles. The action makes a twinge of pain shoot up her arm and she all but pushes the book to the side, uncaring when it lands by her feet with a dull thud, flexing her hand to dispel the ache.

In the weeks and months since she, a girl with no background or family, had first set foot here, in the halls of the keep that had become little more than a gilded cage after she had caught the eye of the King’s firstborn son, she cannot recall one instance where he has spoken or so much as looked at her save for brief, almost dismissive glances.

Not that she expects anything of him, of course. He is as much of a stranger to her as she is to him, and in all truth, she prefers it that way, the near anonymity she has despite the more than open knowledge of her position within the royal household as Prince Aegon’s paramour.

She has heard rumors about him, though, the one-eyed Prince. She knows, just as well as everyone in the Keep, what had happened to him, the boy who lost his eye claiming a dragon - though she does not say that out loud. She has heard tales that he is as callous as he is cruel, that he is as much a scholar as he is a soldier, the rider of the largest dragon in the realm. She ignores them, for who is she to put stock in words spoken from the mouths of courtiers?

The day all but flashes by, her mind empty of nothing but the sentence that rings in her head like a bell. It echoes over and over and over again as she wanders the Keep like a ghost before retreating back to her bedchamber, pacing back and forth restlessly, twisting the blue fabric of her sleeves between her fingers.

Prince Aemond has summoned you.

Before she knows it, the sun is bathing the sky in vivid shades of orange and red as night falls, and that dread returns, bringing with it an anxiousness that pools syrup sweet low in her stomach. It feels ominous this time, and her unease grows as she follows behind the nameless servant given the task of escorting her to his rooms, their path guided through the empty corridors by the dim flickering of the sole lantern dangling in front of her.

She keeps her eyes focused straight ahead, gaze locked on the pale headpiece, feeling her heart thud behind her ribs when the doors suddenly loom in front of her, and she barely notices when the other servant turns, duty done, growing smaller before disappearing behind a corner altogether.

She lifts her hand, fighting the nerves as her trembling fingers wrap around one of the iron door knobs, the thump of the door closing behind her as loud as a drum.

“Come closer.”

She has barely stepped foot inside, barely has the chance to look around before the command comes, almost immediately, sliding over her like frigid water, all but freezing the blood in her veins to icy tendrils. Stiffening, there is little she can do but turn, forcing her suddenly leaden feet carry her towards his direction.

“Prince Aemond.” Somehow she manages to keep her voice flat, concealing the thoughts churning inside her roughly like the waves of Blackwater Bay.

“So you are my brother’s bedmate.” There is no malice to his words, only an unmistakable curiosity, and that alone, miniscule as it is, is enough to make some of her unease fade to a faint, lingering wariness in the back of her mind.

“What do you want, my Prince?” She gritted out, feeling like an animal backed against a wall.

“To see what has thoroughly enthralled my brother, is all,” he murmured, drumming his fingers one more time before sitting forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My brother is as fickle as they come, as I'm sure you’re aware.”

She smiled, though it was little more of a grimace, a tense curl of her mouth, his insinuation not lost on her. “I am, yes.”

He hums at that, almost as if he’s amused by her, his hands returning to the arms of the chair before he goes quiet again, yet his eye remains locked on her face. She can feel the heat of it against her skin as she lets her gaze drift over him, sliding over the silver of his hair and the black eyepatch before dropping to take in the almost elegant way he sits in the chair, languid and half relaxed, one leg crossed over the other.

“If that is all, my Prince-” She raises a brow, carefully keeping her voice courteous, watching as his eye flicks upward, the almost assessing look in it as sharp as any sword.

“No,” he muttered quietly, shaking his head, strands of his silver hair sliding over his shoulders like water as he shifted, unfolding himself from the chair to turn away from her, stalking towards the ornately carved desk.

She all but seizes his brief distraction with both hands, taking the time to glance over his chamber as her curiosity gets the better of her. Nearly every inch of it is filled with items that befit his royal status, down to the drapery, the tapestries on the walls depicting some scene from Old Valyria to the rich velvet hangings around the dark wood of the bed against one wall.

She startles at the sound of the heel of his boots scuffing against the stones as he turns around, drawing her attention away from the wall to wall shelves filled top to bottom with books and scrolls in a heartbeat. His eye widens for a split second in surprise, his gaze following the direction of her gaze before his expression flattens back into something unreadable, yet she can see it though as she leaves, the slow flickerings of interest swirling in the depths of his eye that he doesn’t suppress.

The next time he sends a servant to bring her to him is days later. She knows why this time, knows without a doubt the reason for why he wants to see her. For despite the Queen’s dogged attempts to silence and squash the rumors, they are all over the Keep by now, from the high bred courtiers all the way down to the servants’ quarters, the knowledge of his brother’s proclivities for over indulging.

Unlike the first time, he isn’t in the chair situated when she enters. Instead, his voice comes from the corner, quiet and faint, drifting on the near nonexistent breeze floating in through the open windows like a feather, his silver hair bright against the dark of the bookshelves he stands in front of.

“My Prince.”

He let out a low hum in acknowledgment, the sound near indistinguishable over the crackling pops of the wood in the hearth, but didn't turn around. She drifted closer, the refraction of light off the gilded words imbued into the leather binding drawing her in like a beacon, a moth to an open flame.

It was near impossible to ignore the heat coming from him as she stills beside him. “What book is it?” she gestured loosely towards it.

He turned to answer, lips parting with the words on the tip of his tongue, only for his eye to dart down to her throat, narrowing at the sight of a fading bruise. His fingers lifted, brushing back the curtain of her hair as he leaned closer, his breath puffs of warm air against her skin. “Did he hurt you?”

She could practically hear his teeth grind in his attempt to keep his anger at bay. Her cheeks flushed with color as she shied away, more than desperate to put even the smallest amount of distance between them.

“No.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice sounding higher than she meant it to, suddenly threaded with nerves. “He’s never been harsh, though you know as well as I do that it's worse when he’s in his cups.” she exhaled, unwilling to say more.

He made that sound again, the hum, though this one was harsher, rougher. “Aegon-” she started to say, fingers brushing over the leather of his forearm, but whatever she meant next to say was cut off, and she fell silent when he raised his hand, agitation burning in his eye as he looked down at her.

“Aegon is a fool,” he all but snapped. She could hear it clear of day, the way his tone shifted, going from soft and quiet to harsh and rasping in barely a second, bitterness woven between the words like the tightly spun silk threads of a loom. “Blind to see what is right in front of him, handed on a silver platter.”

He began to pace, his arms behind his back. His posture was as stiff as wood, the expression on his face tight, and coupled with the way the light from the fire and the shadows lit the angles of his face, he was nothing sort of ethereal, lovely in that strange way all Targaryens were.

He spun on her, a blur of black and silver, the harshness bleeding from his face slightly, giving way to the barest hint of desperation. “If I offered you coin for passage? Would you take it?” He scooped up a pouch on the surface of his desk, shaking the bag lightly, yet firmly enough to make the contents clink inside it, and her lips parted, eyes widening at the sight of it. “You’d be free. Free to go anywhere you wish,” he added, almost too quiet for her to hear.

She swallowed, caught by surprise. “Where would I go? He will not let me go quite so easily-”

“Leave my brother to me.” She turned her face up to his again, a question in her eyes, watching as he took a step towards her.

Suddenly he was so close. Too close, with little more than a hairsbreadth between them, and the proximity was enough to make her head spin and every thought inside it disappear.

She wondered what kissing him felt like, and she looked down, feeling the weight of his hand settle on her hip, the calluses on his palm scratching against the fabric.

“What-”

Her breath caught, freezing for a split second in her chest when his lips brushed hers, tentatively at first, before pressing more insistently against hers. She let out a squeak, startled when she felt the chill of the wooden shelf flush against her back, bleeding through her dress, making a wave of gooseflesh rise over her skin.

“Aegon-”

Aemond hissed something unintelligible against her mouth at the mention of his brother’s name, the fingers of one hand digging into her side to keep her still, the other twisting into the hair at the base of her skull, tugging the strands from the loosely done braid. She gasped, fingers instinctively lifting to press against his shoulder blades, the sudden, sharp smell of him enveloping her completely in a cloud of spice and leather and dragon smoke that was so unlike the sole smell of wine that clung to Aegon like a second skin, drowning out everything else.

“Aegon… can… oh Gods-” he panted, choking on the words. He sounded half out of breath, and she thinks she’s never heard a prettier sound, pulling back just in time to watch color bleed over the high curve of his cheekbones, painting a ruddy stain against his pale skin.

It barely feels like hardly any time has passed before he is flush against her once again as he chases her mouth, greedy and wanting, his hand untangling from her hair to curl around her jaw. His kisses are softer this time, and she sighs against his mouth, the wild, erratic thumping of her heart lessening with each second that went by. The desire that had burned inside her was still there, but it was fainter now, little more than a dull ache between her thighs.

She doubts that she sounds any better than he does at that moment, her heart thudding wildly against her ribcage, more than thankful for the hard wood behind her.

He let go of her when she pushed at his chest, once, twice, the heat from his body fading as the distance between them grew. She half turned away from him, slumping backward as she pressed the side of her face against the cold wood, eyes closing halfway in relief.

Aemond’s promise rings true as Aegon grows more and more disinterested in her as the months go by, his attention sloughing away from her like melting ice, like she was some shiny bauble that had lost its luster.

Some part of her should hate him for it, how easy he did it too, but she doesn’t truly mind it. It’s almost freeing in a sense, the way the attention on her dies, fading to nothing as if it had never been on her at all.

“Please-” she fought the not quite whine clawing its way up her throat, her hands fisted against his chest as her moans reached a near fever pitch, echoing loudly in her ears, silenced in a heartbeat by the hand that covers her mouth.

“Do you want them to hear you? Hmm?” His chest is flush against her back, chin digging into the curve of her shoulder as he hisses in her ear, breath fanning over her skin.

“N-no…” she says, exhales more like, so faint is her voice, and all she can do is bite her lip, pulling it between her teeth to keep silent as she grips the edge of the table tightly with one hand, the other digging into the back of his neck as the desire burning hotly under her skin all but turns into an inferno, licking a trail up her spine.

“Sȳz riña.” His hand falls away when she goes quiet once again, dipping under the dark red fabric of her skirts, tracing a path up the inside of her thigh as he hums against her, a smug, pleased sound. The weight of him against her is the only thing keeping her upright, half ready to collapse to her knees in a pool of red.

He'd grown insatiable since that night, and the ones that succeeded it, one after the other, were proof that the blood of the dragon ran hot indeed. It was as if every touch from him, every kiss, every brush of his fingers on some part of her body set her nerves alight in a way Aegon’s hadn’t. He was addicted, taking her on nearly every surface in his chamber, on stone and wood and fabric, splitting her open on his fingers as her moans echoed off the four walls like bells in the Sept.

Possessive; a dragon in all sense of the word.

The sweat hasn’t yet dried on their skin when the urge to kiss him returns, and she gives into it without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation, pressing her lips to the very edge of his mouth, biting the inside of her cheek when he lets out a ragged breath, his arm tightening around her waist before he all but pulls her on top of him. Her legs tangle with his, fingers moving as light as a feather over the muscle and sinew shifting just under his skin to weave into his hair, tugging at the strands.

He hisses at the sensation, the ends of his fingers digging into the flesh of her sides as he kisses her again. “So perfect,” he half groans the words, his voice rasping against the shell of her ear, his breath fanning across her face when he pulls back for air minutes later, and the sight of his eye, blown wide, the violet of his iris all but an indistinguishable parchment thin circle, draws a low whine from her chest.

She moaned his name again, mindlessly dragging one leg up, pressing the heel of her foot against his back. His responding groan reverberated inside her head, one arm curling around the width of his shoulders as his forehead dropped, pressing into the hollow of her throat, one hand skirting up blindly to knead at her breast as his fingers tightened in her hair.

Her hand drifts, edging lower before stilling at the base of his throat, feeling his pulse thrum against them. He was so very pretty in this light, she mused, watching the shadows dance over the planes of his face. Her hand started to grow numb again, the ends of her fingers tingling with the threat of falling asleep on her, and she curled against his side, cheek flush to his chest as she feels his fingers begin to trace up and down the curve of her spine lightly, drawing gooseflesh as she shudders.

She could lose herself on nights like this, bathed in the glow of the setting sun that shines in through the curtains, caught up in nothing but Aemond and the feel of his body moving against hers. Could easily ignore the voice in the back of her mind that lingers almost constantly, the nagging fear that this won’t last, that it is nothing more than a fever dream.

(bold i cannot tag)

taglist: @black-dread @bottlesandbarricades @orcaunionleader @ladystarksneedle

@barbieaemond @lexwolfhale @sylasthegrim @helaelaemond @queen--kenobi @toms-cherry-trees

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut

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yanderecrazysie · 5 months

Note

i need more yandere cheater tamaki..

PLEASE 😭😭🙏

Ofc, ofc, my precious anon!

Title: None of Your Concern

Pairings: Tamaki Suoh x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing, Tamaki is once again an asshole

Summary: Tamaki can’t move on from you, even though it’s his fault you left.

“Get your bitch ass off of my phone

Please leave me alone

I am not your girl anymore

You need to watch your tone”

From “None of Your Concern” by Jhene Aiko

It’s a terrible feeling, the moment your life falls apart, shattering like glass.

You had never liked Tamaki being in the host club, but you had grinned and beared it as best you could. He had been so excited to start it with his friends that you couldn’t help but admire his enthusiasm and had given him the go-ahead, as long as he didn’t go too far with the girls.

You hated sharing your boyfriend with all of the other girls in the school. You hated seeing him acting like he was enamored with every girl who sat as his table.

You had stopped attending the host club shortly after it was created, unable to stand watching your boyfriend feed other girls cake and compliment them, calling them “princess” just like he did for you. He was understanding and apologetic, reminding you that the other girls meant nothing to him. That it was all just an act.

Despite the tugging on your heart and the way your stomach twisted unpleasantly, you believed him.

Until now.

One of Tamaki’s hands lay seated on another girl’s back, pulling her closer into the kiss he had clearly initiated. His other hand delicately cupped her cheek, so much gentler than he had ever treated you.

Your bag, which had been slung over one shoulder, slipped and hit the ground with a loud THUMP. The two broke apart, still gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Kyoya, I told you not to bother me,” Tamaki said crossly, not looking away from the other girl for even one second.

A small sob bubbles up from your lips before you can stop it. You had felt so numb that it took even you by surprise. Tamaki’s eyes dart over to the door and he freezes. You can see the horror seize him and you could tell his brain was working furiously, trying to come up with an excuse that you would buy.

“Princess Suki just wanted… I mean…” You could hear the panic in his voice as he searched for the right words, the words that would magically make this okay. You both knew better- knew that there was nothing he could say anymore that would fix his mistakes.

“Don’t bother,” you managed to say through the massive lump stuck in your throat, “Just…” words fail you, but the meaning is clear. You want nothing more to do with Tamaki Suoh.

You turned on your heels and ran from the room. Only when you’re far enough away from the classroom do you let the tears fall.

You’re plagued by “what ifs” and a mountain of “whys”. You found yourself thinking back to the girl Tamaki had been kissing. It’s because she’s prettier, isn’t it? Did she have something I didn’t?

Your phone buzzed to life with a text. “Can we talk?” You ignore it. “Please?” A few moments of silence graced you before your phone began to ring. You sent it straight to voicemail.

By the time you made it home, your phone had 13 missed calls and dozens of texts. You put your phone on silent and placed it on the nightstand, getting straight into bed. It’s way too early to go to sleep, but you feel as though you’ve run ten marathons. You fell asleep without changing your clothes and awoke to hundreds of texts and about 50 new calls.

You decided to give yourself a day off from school, not ready to face Tamaki or “Suki”. It was a Friday, so you would have the weekend off as well. Your head seemed to weigh a thousand pounds and you had trouble lifting it from the pillow.

You gingerly sniffed your clothes and winced at the smell of sweat. A shower was desperately needed. You hurried off to the bathroom and strip, waiting for the running water to turn from freezing cold to a scalding heat, just the way you liked your showers.

A knock sounded at your door. You weighed your options and ultimately decided to ignore it. You weren’t expecting any visitors. It was probably just a door-to-door salesman or something.

You slipped into the shower, instantly warmed by the hot water. You let out a pleased sigh as the heat hits your head and back. The knocks at the door became more insistent.

Now that you were in the shower, there was no way you were hopping right back out. You resolved to just take a quick shower and figure out who was at the door after that. Whoever it was could wait, right? But now you had the nagging worry in the edge of your mind that there might really be an emergency.

The knocking continued intermittently throughout your short shower and you hurriedly dressed, half-stumbling to the door and flinging it open once you were decent. There, on your doorstep, with puffy red eyes, was Tamaki Suoh.

You immediately slammed the door in his face.

“(Y/n)! Please open the door! I’m so sorry, I made a horrible mistake! Please take me back! I… I can’t live without you.”

You had expected to feel guilty or sad, but instead a cold indifference froze over your heart. “Get off my property or I’ll call the police.” Tamaki tried to protest, but your icy voice informed him, “I’m serious.”

You watched through the frosted glass as he reluctantly retreated, figurative tail between his legs. You felt a rush of satisfaction, immediately followed by a wave of sadness. All you could do was bury your face in your hands and sob into them.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an accident, really it was.

Tamaki had been using Kyoya to pass on messages after you threatened to get a restraining order on him. Kyoya clearly thought it was stupid, but he always seemed to obey Tamaki.

Except now..

Lips pressed together in bliss, his hand on the small of your back, pulling you close just like Tamaki and Suki. This time it was Tamaki’s turn to walk in on the two of you.

You weren’t cheating on him, but you still felt the warm satisfaction of revenge as Tamaki stared at the two of you with disbelieving eyes. His eyes filled with tears and he wasn’t shy about letting them fall from down his cheeks, gathering under his chin and dripping to the floor below.

“How could you?” His voice was choked up, just like yours had been. Serves him right, you think savagely.

“I’m not yours anymore, Tamaki. I can do whatever I want,” you snap at him, cold as ice.

Tamaki’s face goes blank, tears still dripping from his eyes as he glares at Kyoya.

You weren’t his, huh?

Well, he could change that.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere ohshc #yandere ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club #yandere tamaki #tamaki suoh

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ghostlynachopanda · 1 year

Text

Like a charm

a/n: in honor of demon slayer AND aot coming out on Friday I wrote this. I think it sucks but I wrote it at 4am. I didn't read over it or anything so tell me if it's good or if it sucks. thanks, pals, here's this one.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

words: 2.1k

~~~

Enid learned, pretty quick, the best way to get Wednesday out of a foul mood was by getting you. You worked like a charm, pulling her out of any and all bad moods she might be in. Enid didn't waste time in telling almost everyone Wednesday came in contact with, aiming to keep heads on people's shoulders. The amount of times you've been dragged to a murderous Wednesday is laughable. Well, it would be if it wasn't as effective as it actually is.

Wednesday is vexed, furious, miffed. Everything and everyone is testing her patience today. Enid woke up being extra preppy, not being able to find her preferred sweater, and Bianca thinking she's smarter than she actually is, trying to one-up her. Wednesday's thoughts consisted of only the murder of her classmates and destroying anything that gets in her way. The aura Wednesday emitted made everyone steer clear of her. Unfortunately, for everyone around Wednesday, you were nowhere to be found. It wasn't even lunch yet, and this day could not get any worse. But somehow it did.

Wednesday sat in her usual spot in the classroom, an empty seat for you to her right. It's the first class of the day she had with you, as ashamed as she is to admit it, she looked forward to seeing you. Wednesday looked forward to the gentle touches under the table, the small smiles you sent her, the small doodles in her notebook that she swears she'll get rid of but never does. She sat waiting for you, looking at the door expectantly. Her attention is diverted when the chair next to her scrapes unpleasantly against the floor, something you never did. Wednesday tenses, it's not you.

She turned to look at whoever was brave enough to not only sit next to her, but also take your spot, and found Xavier. Her eyes narrowed at him before she spoke, "What are you doing?" her voice sharp.

"Taking an open seat, what’s it look like?" he shoots back, seemingly also in a broody mood.

Before she could tell him to move the bell rang, and she saw a small victory smirk on his face causing her grip on her pencil to tighten. Wednesday was going to kill him. She turned to scan the room, hoping to find a glimpse of you. She didn't see you, nothing in the room resembled you.

Wednesday turned to Enid, who sat across the room, and stared at her until she understood what the question was. Enid responded with a shrug and mouthing 'I don't know' before turning her attention to the teacher. Where are you?

Wednesday couldn't focus. Xavier's pencil was scraping against his sketchbook too loud, he kept trying to talk to her, and her hands felt cold. You aren't there to absentmindedly draw figures on the back of her hands, she didn't think before she whispered, "Xavier, I'm going to cut out your tongue and feed it to vultures if you don't shut up."

That managed to get him to stop talking to her, instead mumbling to himself about her attitude. The sound of his pencil moving along his sketchbook sounded like nails on a chalkboard, something she would normally ignore, but the sound is too loud for Wednesday. She was on the verge of breaking every single one of his fingers, burning his 'precious' sketchbook, and snapping all of his pencils in half. Now that Xavier stopped talking to her she could hear everyone else, whispering like their conversations are a secret. It made Wednesday clench her jaw and ball her hands into fists, she was mere moments away from cutting everyone's tongue out so she could have some silence.

The bell rang sometime later, signaling the time for her free period. Wednesday immediately gathered her things and stood up, she needed to find you. She was out the door before anyone else, walking swiftly through the halls to where you frequented during your free period. Maybe you're already there. Maybe you're waiting for her.

Her thoughts and strides are cut short when someone calls her name and puts a hand on her shoulder. Yes, Wednesday is going to kill someone today. She turns to find Xavier again, "You must have a death wish," she told him, voice wrapped in displeasure.

"Very funny, Wednesday. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he inquired, unintentionally antagonizing her.

"That's none of your concern," she replied through gritted teeth, her fingers twitching to wrap around his neck and squeeze the life out of him.

"It kind of is when you ran off before you answered my question," he replies, eyebrows pinched and voice taut with anger.

"Xavier, I do not care about any of your brainless questions. I have somewhere I need to be." She retorts voice laced with venom. She turns and starts walking again only to be stopped again,

"Seriously dude? I just need you to answer one question. What's got you in such a bad mood today, jeez." he's even more irritated now.

The hall is deserted, Wednesday noted. She could kill him now and dispose of the body before anyone noticed either of them are gone. Xavier hardly contributes anything to the school, no one would notice he's missing. Nevermore would be better off without his 'tortured artist' act anyway. If anyone says anything I can just kill them too. I just need to grab my knife and I can dispose of him. If I kidnap him, I could torture him for as long as I want. Try out those torture techniques I learned.

She fixes him with her deadliest glare and in a most threatening voice, "Listen to me carefully, I'm going to make your death the most painful one imaginable and you're going to wish-" she pauses when she feels a familiar weight on her shoulder.

A warmth graces the left side of her body, one that she's grown fond of over a short period. It seems her body just knows it's you without having to look. Wednesday relaxes under your touch almost immediately, all thoughts of murder and Xavier leave her head.

She turns to find your hand resting comfortably on her shoulder, a small smile on your lips. Parts of your face are covered in dirt and you have some small scratches. You're close enough to be in her personal space, but it's still not close enough; not when she's been without you practically all day, but she won't tell you that. In lieu, she'll act angry.

She steps closer to you, eyes losing their murderous gleam, "Where have you been?"

"oh, haha, just around," you reply vaguely, voice soft and tired.

It's not enough, Wednesday decides. Grabbing your hand and dragging you somewhere you're unaware of. You two could hear Xavier yelling something in the background but neither of you care enough to listen to what he had to say.

The only thing on either of your minds is the warmth of the others hand. Neither of you would say anything, but it's pleasant.

Both of you end up in Wednesday's dorm, it's empty since Enid is probably hanging out with some of her friends and Thing is probably trying to steal lotion from the nurses. She sits you down at her desk and grabs her first aid kit, a bottle of water, and some napkins.

"Why weren't you in class earlier?" she asks, breaking the comfortable silence while gently wiping the dirt from your face.

"I was running around in the woods," you reply.

"Why is that a reason to not attend class?" she inquired, wanting to know what was more important than sitting next to her in class.

You don’t reply, there wasn't a specific reason why you were out there. Just wanting to enjoy the nice weather before it got ridiculously cold again.

Wednesday sighs, somewhat miffed by your lack of response, before kneeling down between your legs and taking a dirtied hand in hers. Reaching for the antiseptic,

"How you manage to get so many cuts and bruises is astounding," she says softly as if she's actually amazed.

"you think so?" you ask just as softly.

She merely hums in response, focusing back on your hands. She's thinking about what to say to you. She wants to lecture you about missing class and leaving her by herself with those heathens she calls classmates. Still, you look content. She doesn't want to be the reason that look is ripped from your face.

You don’t flinch when the antiseptic is applied, too focused on Wednesday's face. She appears to be lost in thought, you can't blame her. You hadn't seen her since dinner yesterday, you just wanted to be with her.

It slightly startled you when her eyes met yours, looking down at your hands to realize their clean and patched up. Wednesday is taking in every detail of your face, now all cleaned and patched up by her hands; the thought makes a smile ghost over her face.

The close proximity and the way she's looking at you make your cheeks heat up. Her eyes burning trails on your skin, she's not shy about it either. The heat is spreading all over your body, unconfined to just your cheeks and the tips of your ears. You want to look away, but you can't tear your eyes from her either.

"Don't skip the classes we share," she said, breaking the silence but not breaking eye contact.

"I'm sorry?" your brain is still slightly distracted by her.

"You and I share a couple of classes. Do not skip them again," she said evenly.

"It bothered you that much?" you ask innocently.

"If you want to leave me with those brainless imbeciles, I don’t blame you. I don’t want to be in the same general area as them either. However, it's not a good idea to skip class—"

You stopped listening, your brain is too occupied by how pretty she looks and how close she is. You're aware she's going on a rant and it probably would be a good idea to listen, even if she's just saying unkind things about your classmates, but she hasn't stood up. She's still kneeling between your legs, your hands are still interlocked and your brain is short-circuiting.

You can't help yourself, you lean forward and connect your lips. It's soft and something you wish you could feel every waking moment. This kiss is just as memorable as the first. You pull away quickly, realizing you cut her off. You blink rapidly, trying to regain composure and some coherent thoughts, she does the same. Wednesday forgot what she was scolding you for. Her thoughts are now completely on you.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to-"

"Again." she cuts you off. You blink owlishly at her, still not completely caught up with everything. She repeats,

"Do that again," you comply this time. Lips moving graciously against one another as if they were made to do this. Your hands find their place on her jaw and the back of her neck, pulling her closer to you. Her hands lightly grab your arms, forbidding you from pulling them away.

Neither of you is sure what time it is, not that either of you cares. Not wanting to leave the others to embrace, no longer caring for class. You pull away after a couple minutes, not wanting things to get too heated when Enid or Thing could come back at any moment. You connect your foreheads and close your eyes, trying to gain control of your breathing.

She looks at you fondly, eyes soft in a way no one but you will get to see. Her admiring is cut short by you, "Take a nap with me?" you ask.

Wednesday mumbles rejections while standing to grab you clean and comfortable clothes. You smile at her, knowing she could never say no to you. After changing she all but pulls you into her bed. She links your pinkies together and covers both of you with her black sheet. Wednesday doesn't have time to think about how her day went before sleep takes over.

------

Enid walks in an hour later to find you two in bed together. She feels brave enough to snap a quick picture to send to you later. She sees your eyes open and looks at her, she mouths a 'thank you' with a large bowing motion. You sleepily smile at her and give her a thumbs up before she quietly rushes out of the room, hoping not to wake her roommate. Yeah, you really do work like a charm.

tags:@alexkolax @rainbow-love4ever @o638

#wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe

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helplesslypurple77 · 6 months

Text

~i wish i was special, your so fucking special~

Summary: "But a woman's intuition is a clever thing, a strong thing not to be overlooked, a thing you must trust, for, as they say, where there is smoke, there is certain to be fire. And for you, that fire came in the form of a betrayal, a betrayal that could break you, if you moved it too. But feminine rage is also a divine thing, a destructive fire, incinerating everything in its path. "

Warnings: Smut, Dazai cheats on you, mildly unhealthy relationships to really unhealthy relationships, reader isn't in a good headspace~

Notes: i have been in such a depressive mood, so i decided to channel that into a story. I hope my feelings came through to you.

Also this isn't really a story about healthy relationships. Both Dazai and Fyodor are kind of assholes, although Fyodor is slightly less of one. The reader is not in a very good mental state. But that's what makes it spicy…

also this story is not for the Dazai lovers. although i am one.

...

It was snowing the day it happened. Big fat snowflakes falling gently from the sky, pressing kisses to your nose. They piled beneath your feet, along the sides of the roads in big fluffy piles, much akin to the clouds that would fill the sky during the summer months. They settled on the trees, painting their bare spindly branches a dirty gray white. It was dark, late at night as you hurried home, the street lights painting the white snow with yellow pure light.

It was cold, but not unpleasantly cold, your breath perfuming in the air around your face as you huffed out breaths, the heels of your boots sinking into the snow and clicking against the pavement. Your hair, let down around your shoulders, fell gently around you, floating like a cloud in the air. Your cheeks flushed from the cold, hands shoved deep in the pockets of your fur coat. The hat upon your head kept the warmth in, hugging your head gently.

You were feeling anxious. You didn't know why, it was a feeling that had persisted, that had been niggling at the corner of your brain, spilling unease into each and every corner of your body. The feeling had eaten at you, and you had buried yourself in your word to dull it, to dull that horrible dawning sensation of understanding. You were a weak woman, burying a poorly disguised inferiority complex under your fake bravado. It was most obvious in your incessant application of makeup, your occasional breakdown in the shower where you cried and cried, muffling your tears in the shower, letting the warm water wash them away.

For you to cry in front of Dazai was a pathetic thing, to let a man so confident and strong see your tears almost break you each time. You were a lucky woman to have such a man as your boyfriend, a handsome confident man who could have any woman he wanted. You knew this, and so you muffled your tears and that yawning feeling of dread opening a cavity in your stomach and told yourself that everything was alright.

But a woman's intuition is a clever thing, a strong thing not to be overlooked, a thing you must trust, for, as they say, where there is smoke, there is certain to be fire. And for you, that fire came in the form of a betrayal, a betrayal that could break you, if you moved it too. But feminine rage is also a divine thing, a destructive fire, incinerating everything in its path.

The snow caught on the bushes in the front lawn of your apartment as you made your way upstairs. The snow landed gently on the red berries, melting fast but yet just as fast replaced by another snowflake until the bushes and their red berries were dusted lightly with a decorative powder. The lights that hung from the trees in the front gave the entire scene a picturesque holiday feel, and yet that yawning pit of dread still ate at you from the inside out.

Heels clicking on the metal of the stairs, loud but not loud enough. Muffled by the snow. Loud only to you. Most of the rooms in the apartment you share with your boyfriend are empty, and all the lights beside your own are extinguished, lending an air of abandoned solitude to the surrounding. It's a bleak picture to your mind, and a foreboding chorus to the bouts of angst to come.

Your apartment is at the end of the row, all the way on the top floor. It takes barely a minute to walk the length and yet it feels like an hour, those feelings of dread you still cannot place eating you from the inside out, causing your legs to tremble in an unhealthy anticipation. You still don't know the cause, simply your misplaced intuition, and so you soldier on, passing the abandoned apartments.

Miss Smith, an alcoholic who had abandoned the apartment in a drunken haze, Ms Katya Ivanova, a pretty woman with blond hair that had been arrested for reasons unknown and dragged away kicking and screaming. Dazai had informed you what a shame it had been. You supposed she had been nice, but you had never really interacted that much. And finally, the old apartment next to yours. Owned by Ms Petrova, a kindly old lady that had died just last month. You had cried, the pathetic woman you had become, mourned her death like she was your own mother.

And at last, you arrive at your door, your gloved hand resting on the handle, not daring to open. Your body is frozen, unable to simply push open the unlocked door, afraid of the unknown, of what you might find there. You don't know why you're afraid, it's simply that yawning pit of sorrow, the gate to hell housed in the pit of your stomach. The feeling that something is wrong, but you simply can't place it, can't banish it, and so you must exist in this anxious state until something, or someone, breaks it.

You stand still before your door, the door you and your boyfriend had lived behind for three years now, a door with the familiar numbers 4B, partially rusted and close to falling off. Behind this door you had happy memories, sad memories, memories of all kinds. You simply can't bear it, you can't bear whatever you know, somewhere deep in your consciousness that you will find something that will change your life. You don't want things to change, you want to stay with your boyfriend who you love deeply, to keep your ok job at the ok law firm you worked at and to spend the holiday season happy, content, if not wealthy. It's all you’ve ever asked, to be content and loved, and yet it seems too much for whoever was spinning this dreadful wheel of fate. You had always lived your life kindly, a person who would bend over backwards for the needs of others, a person who loved first, hated never. This was your philosophy, a belief you stood by.

You took a deep breath, and opened the door. The hallway was dark, despite the lights you knew lighted the windows, despite the low murmur of voices coming from another room. You don't bother to take off your coat, your eyes catching on the unfamiliar coat and high heels placed in your spot. You already know what you will find as you make your way down the darkened hallway, towards the small bedroom you share with your boyfriend, but somehow you still hold out hope. You hope desperately that he really loved you, that the woman's clothes are presents for you, or his mothers clothes. You pray even, a desperate prayer to any god who may be listening, that he loves you, that you won't find him cheating. But of course, because your intuition has never steered you wrong, because that yawning pit of despair was correct, that's exactly what you find.

The door to your bedroom creaks as you open it, the light from the main room casting a sliver of golden light upon the bodies on the bed, twisted together under the covers, embracing in a love you thought you shared. The pit of despair, the anxiety, and get of hell that perpetually follows you opens up, swallowing your heart with finality. You turn, walking back down the hall, holding back the angry tears welling up in your throat. You're not surprised, how could you be, it was obvious really. But you had ignored the signs, refused them, rebuked them, wanting compassion and kindness that you knew he could never give you. He had warned you.

“I'm broken.” Dazai had said, hands caressing your own.

“I stray to temptations my belladonna, i cannot commit to you and you alone.”

You had foolishly thought that you could fix him, that you were good enough to make an ex-mafia member stray onto the path to the good, the path of the faithful. You curse yourself as Dazai stumbles out of the bedroom, chasing you, the woman behind him. You don't stop, even as he calls your name, a desperate plea.

“Wait, Name.” He says, his hands catching the end of your coat, yanking you to a halt. Biting your lip, your turn, holding back the tears. Dazai runs a hand through his messy brown hair, Katya Ivanova standing behind him, clutching her clothes to her almost naked frame. She looks as pretty as ever, her blond locks only lightly mussed, perfect even in sex. The woman he always told you not to worry about. You don't feel jealousy as you look at her, only a strange kind of acceptance.

“What, Dazai.” You say, your voice calm, not a tremble in sight. You comment yourself on your acting, even as the despair tears you apart from the inside.

“Bela…” He starts, once again mussing his hair. He's clothed only in pants and a few remaining bandages on his torso and arms. Lipstick marks and hickeys mar his pale skin, clear evidence of his activities. You bite back tears. You refuse to cry in front of these two.

“Belladonna…” Dazai says, seemingly at a loss for words. It seems he can't even beg for your forgiveness, and you only feel a cold kind of acceptance as you gently shake his hand off your coat, and walk towards the door.

“I hope you two live happily.” You say, turning one more time to look at them. What a picture they make, so pretty on the surface, but ugly underneath, where it really matters. And with one last small smile, you close the door behind you.

It's still snowing, but the scenery no longer feels peaceful and festive. No, now it feels cold and lonely and bleak and as you hurry away, the tears start. Fat, hot tears running down your flushed cheeks and hitting the snow below you as you walk slowly away from the apartment, to where you do not know. The streets are abandoned, dead in the still of the night and you can cry, tears a welcome relief from the tense anxiety that had hounded you not hours earlier.

You love him, loved that man with all of your pathetic little heart. Imagined a future with him, imagined kids, devoted your entire being to him. You tried your best, applying makeup and sucking dick and laughing at his jokes but you were not enough it seemed. Never as good as Katya Ivanova, effortless in her seductions, with her pretty blond hair and blue eyes, with her perfect body and bimbo brain. You would never be her.

The tears are freeing, in a way. They wash away your sadness and betrayal and also your makeup and then the anger comes. White hot and ger that pours in with each tear that trails down your face. Pure, unadulterated rage.

If he can do that, if he can seduce women as he pleases, you shall feel no shame in seducing men. And you know just the one to target. The rage burning your body, your steps imbued with it as you march on, given a purpose, at least temporarily. You will make him hurt. You will make Dazai, a man with nerves and emotions of steel, feel the same burning anger and anxiety and sadness and betrayal that you feel.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You know these neighborhoods well, the places you had watched Dazai and Fyodor argue over things from philosophy to what was the best fruit. They like to argue, oh yes they did, and their rivalry was something you hope to exploit. But your tears wouldn't stop. It was pathetic and sad but you sholdeird on, walking up to the small picturesque cottage and knocking politely on the door.

It was a nice cottage, with a few trees scattered around the lawn and a little bird fountain covered in a light dusting of snow and ice. The whole place feels welcoming, more wealthy than you and Dazai could ever afford. You try your best to whipe your tears, but alas there is nothing you can do. Fyodor was always kind to you, treating you with a certain amount of delicacy, like you were a glass fairy statue, pretty but easily breakable. You find you like this, very much.

You had always been a bit of a prize in their arguments. At least on Daazai’s side. But not enough to make him stay, not enough to make him loyal. You let the tears flow freely, tired of trying to hold back.

The door opens with a small crack, the light spilling out onto the lawn, onto your tearstained face. That familiar face looks out, eyes alighting in surprise upon your tear stained face, your obvious distraught expression.

“Name, what a surprise it is to see you.” Fyodor says, opening the door wider and letting the light spill across your sinner's body. You look up through your lashes, mouth trembling as you lean forward, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

“Make it go away.” You whimper into the fabric, clutching it like a lifeline, as if it's the only thing between you and something terrible, something you never want to see.

Fyodor always seems to understand everything. Perhaps he reads you like an open book, dark eyes scanning the pathetic words that make up your being, reading your emotions, drawing them in a beautiful canvas, the world of his brain. He is a beautiful creature, dangerous and smart and a bit all knowing.

You tears are falling faster now, soaking the cotton fabric of his white shirt, cries muffled against him.

Fyodor’s thin hands grip your waist, maneuvering you inside, closing the door on the coldness behind you. The hallway is an illusion, something you can't even comprehend. All you can see is him, his hair brushing his chin lightly, his dark eyes locked on yours, his thin clothes. You whisper the words again, almost a silent prayer.

“Oh god Fyodor.” You whimper, imploring him with your eyes. “Make me dumb. Fuck me until i dont need to think anymore.”

Fyodor’s mouth curves into a small smirk, eyes locking on your own. His hands are cold, soothing as they reach up, cupping your face and smoothing your tears away.

“What about your boyfriend darling?” He asks, a cruel question really. You are sure he already knows the answer. Fyodor can be a cold man sometimes.

“Cheated.” Is all you whisper, still pressed against his heat. His body is lean, heat radiating from his frame despite his weak physical condition. You know he can make you forget.

Complicated emotions make their way across Fyodor’s face as he holds you. His big hands caressing your waist, sending little shockwaves of heat to your poor pussy, dripping against your panties. Your fantasies and desire have already driven you wild, a temptress of aphrodite, a sinner desiring the man who holds you, teasing you until you might simply explode.

“Fyodor.” You whisper, looking up at him through your lashes, begging for his love, hands working at the top few buttons of his shirt.

His response is to lean down, mouth pressing a achingly sweet kiss upon your lips. You melt into the sweetness, lured by the kindness, but it seems he has not forgotten your desire to forget. Because all at once the kiss is carnal, your back hitting the wall of his apartment in a brutal display of desire. Hands gripping fabric, the sounds of ripping fabric as his hands toss your coat aside, the buttons on your button down scattering in his eagerness.

Fyodor’s kisses are like a sweet poison. A desire that overcomes your senses, begging you to steal more. And there are more for the taking, many more as he pants against your neck, laying open mouth kisses against it, as you moan. Your back is still supported by the wall, trapped between a rock and hard place, pressed between a hard object and a relentless desire. You curve into Fyodor, perhaps begging for him to ruin you, to send you to sin. Fyodor drops to his knees, his mouth pressed against your soaking core. And as your head arches back, you know this is going to be a long, wonderful night.

The way his hands touch your body, the way his mouth worships your cunt, the way your hands tangle in his dark lock as you grind your core against his face. It's a pretty picture, a display of beastlike desire. The hallway smells of sex and the air is warm, stifling really. Your hair is wild, the locks falling around your bare shoulders, your makeup already smudged beyond belief. But you find you dont care, as his clever tongue urges an orgasm out of you, as he leaves you hsaking and begging as he flips you around, entering you with one long thrust and shoving you against the wall.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

“My Darling.” Fyodor pants against you, as your hands grip at the smooth surface of his table, moans leaking out of your mouth, cum dripping out of your poor abused hole.

“Why are you crying?”

It takes a moment to truly come to, to take in his sentence and formulate a response. His whole house smells of sex, and the two of you had long abandoned the hallway, and moved to other parts of the house. It's an interesting kind of house tour. You're tossed over the kitchen table, body littered with possessive little hickeys. You love them, the fact that he wants to mark you, to keep you, to make you his forever. You love that his cum drips from your holes, that in a way he could possess you, in a way you could be his, have a purpose, have a comfort, have a man who loves you.

“Oh god.” You start. Your words are slightly slurred, and you don't understand how he has so much stamina, considering how physically weak he is.

“Oh Fyodor, I want to be loved.”

The words are vulnerable, and Fyodor’s relentless thrust stutter slightly. Your back arches against the table, hands finally gripping purchase, the end of the table. You feel so loved, so desired. You love it, you love him, Dazai is simply no more. You know he’ll come back, maybe later when your feeling less fucked out, but right now your very satisfied with this feeling, the happiness, the freedom.

A rough thumb on your clit urges you to orgasm, a powerful one. Your back arches off the table, your hands gripping his hair as he leans down, your lips parting in a scream.

“Oh Fyodor, I want to be yours.” You say, the orgasm forcing your true feeling out of the box you had buried deep. Your shaking, your body trembling with the force of the orgasm, his dick still spearing you deep. Your hands reach up aimlessly, searching for skin, for hair, for something. And find it you do, his thin shoulders, already engraved with the evidence of your desire, your fingernails leave more red trails in his pale skin, and he shivers at the pain.

“I’ve always loved you darling.” Fyodor says, his voice a pant. His vulnerable words break through the haze of orgasm, thrilling your heart even as your core clenches around his dick. He finishes his sentence, the words driving you made with desire, with love, with happiness.

“You're mine now.” Fyodor says, hands on your waist, lips on your own, pressing his love and desire on to your skin, painting a beautiful portrait, one that is for you, not for the others.

You're his. You love the words, those possessive desperate words whispered in a haze of arousal and sex. The words that you longed to hear. Because you are a woman who loves it, the possession, the feeling of love that stems from it in return. You know you will love this man, that this man will erase any traces of Dazai that remained, rework you into a beautiful statue, a glass fairy statue perhaps.

You keen into his words, hands gripping that pretty hair and yanking, pulling. He likes it, these little stabs of pain you learned. You are a broken woman, and you suppose this broken man can fix you. FYodor is undoubtedly a monster, a creature of the darkness whose hands are stained with blood. But you know this creature can fix you, pick up the broken pieces of your heart, the heart that had shattered upon the betrayal, and glue them back together, make you whole ounce more.

Your hands are scrabbling now, moving from his hair to his shoulders to his neck. Fyodor lets you, lets you grip his neck, holding the line of his life in your delicate hands. You doubt you could kill him, not that you wanted to, not with the state he’s reduced you too. You're a woman whose will hangs on his hands, whose life hangs at his fingertips, whose mentality is ruined by his dick. You're a woman remade wholy from desire. You find you like it greatly.

“You’ve ruined me.” Are the words that leave your mouth, slurred but still coherent.

Fyodor, eyes alight above you, only smiles. It's a predatory kind of smile, a smirk that shows his sharp canines, a proud smirk. You find you love it, as your pussy clenches down around his dick.

“Oh darling,” Fyodor says, panting the words in a rough grunt. His accent has become thick with lust, clogging his words, clogging his throat. “You say that in a negative light. I think I've simply sucked the sadness out of you. Converted it to white hot pleasure.”

Fyodors hand is working your clit again, hard circles that hurt as much as they feel good. The pleasure and pain is a delicious mix, a dangerous cocktail ruining your senses, driving you crazy for his touch. You think you might indeed become addicted. Your brian is fried, and it takes a lot of work to pull together coherent sentences, and so you simply give up, instead conveying your feelings in a mess of moans and whimpers, in his name leaving your lips like a prayer.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

“My darling, I think you're the one who has ruined me.” Fyodor's words are accompanied by a slap, your ass stinging deliciously. You can barely speak, all you can do is keep yourself up, your hands braced against the slippery tiles of the shower. Your mouth parts in whimpers and pants, your pussy still dripping with cum even as the water tries to wash it down the drain. You try your best to prompt his words.

“What do you…” You say, the words slurred and interrupted with moans of pleasure. You don't understand how Fyodor has so much stamina, how he can ruin you over and over and then put you back together with words of kindness and devotion and the possessive hickeys littering your body. You whimper as another orgasm rocks your body. Countless, you’ve lost count.

Fyodor leans down, his wet hair tickling your neck as the length of his chest presses against your back, skin to skin, his beating heart obvious.

“I'm addicted to you.” Are the words he pants in your ear, letting his masks and walls come down fully, his expression a bit crazed, a bit scary. You clench down hard, the beginning of another orgasm shuddering down upon you. His dick, his words, his hands, his thumb on your clit bring you to countless orgasm, your brain fried, coherent words simply impossible. You try your best anyway, as the micro orgasm shakes your body.

“Oh good Fyodor.” You whimper, as your hands scrabble on the wall, as his hands grip your boobs, twisting your nipples. “I’m a sinful woman.”

“Aren't we all, just sinners of god.” The words are a pant, too confusing for your incoherent brain to decipher, but the sound of his voice is pretty. You know his words are a comfort, even if the true gravity won't hit until later. You find yourself thinking that maybe, this was destiny. Fate had lead you to this man, a monster who would caress your body, putting you back together, loving you, craving you.

You take a moment to send out a small thanks, and as another orgasm rocks your body, you simply stop thinking, drowning your feelings in sweet pleasure and pain.

...

Endnotes: i’ve never really written true angst, but now i guess i have. Although I can't help but give it a hopeful ending.

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor dostoevsky bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #dazai x reader #dazai bsd

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

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In short, I thought about it most of the night and made some notes on my phone.

I'm still translating part 3, but while I'm on vacation and have enough free time, I want to write headcannons.

specifically the jealous Leon. He is almost forty and his girlfriend is just over twenty. Don't get me wrong. I share moderate jealousy and excessive jealousy. For me, these are different things, so "WARNING! if you don't like reading this, just skip this post.

You have an absolutely healthy relationship (as far as possible with Leon's psyche). You don't give him any reason to doubt your loyalty to him.

He considers himself too "old" for all these hangouts, preferring to spend time in peace and stability after a long mission, but you are a young girl who wants to have fun with friends from time to time (among which there are guys).

Leon has nothing against your entertainment and does not interfere with communication with others. Although, some selfish part of him wants you to spend more time with him, but he won't talk about it out loud.

Of course, he understands that others may like you too. You see, Leon still doesn't understand what you saw in him when you could date someone of your peers. It all started as a silly joke, and then you both wanted more from communicating with each other. And it's not just about sex.

You took care of Leon when you stayed at his place overnight, and in the morning you made breakfast with coffee, asking if you brewed it too hard. And while Leon is having breakfast, you always kiss him on the back of the head. Something that Ada or anyone else has never done.

After that, the cute attentions from you mean too much to Leon. He is a bit old-fashioned and will probably ask for official consent if you want to be in a relationship with him, despite his frequent absence and age difference.

“Do I need to sign some kind of agreement? Like, yes, I agree on all points to become your girlfriend? Signature and today's date?“ - You laugh with Leon, adjusting the shirt you stole from him in the morning when he says that he does not have such a paper and an oral agreement will be enough.

Leon will in no way publicly cover his personal life because of his work. Putting you in potential danger is not what he wants at all. Yes, he is happy to spend time with you, but if someone asks him about your relationship, he will say that there is nothing serious about it. Just a girl who agreed to spend the night with him. And only the closest (and there are almost no such people at all, so the circle narrows down to Claire, Helena and, perhaps, then Hannigan) will know about his real attitude towards you.

He also likes to take care of you. In general, he will gladly take a shower with you, soaping his head with shampoo after which he makes funny hairstyles so that he can laugh with you about it later.

He takes care of you if you have a painful period / you have a cold / just not in the mood. To show reciprocal care for a partner is a joy to him.

He won't show any signs of jealousy until you tell him that the main character of the movie/series is too gorgeous and you wouldn't mind marrying him.

Of course it's a joke. He understands it himself, but it hurt him unpleasantly.

It will never go to the point of absurdity. It's just that Leon doesn't quite like it when he accidentally sees you in correspondence with a friend discussing some cute actor/model/singer or other public personality admiring his beauty and charisma.

"Come on, he's not that good!" - in the end, he can't stand it when he's already in bed with you.

“Who?" - You ask innocently, stupidly blinking your eyes and looking straight at Leon.

“That guy from the movie. You can't do this trick in real life, it's a fucking special effect. And anyway, you don't like him, but the one he plays. I doubt he's ever held a real gun in his life.”

After that, Leon will lie down on the other side, leaving you completely perplexed.

It's stupid to be jealous of the handsome guy from the movie, he knows it himself. He just thinks that his age can still become an obstacle to your relationship, especially when he is often not at home and he is so much attached to you.

However, if some brat decides to start flirting with you thinking that "a lonely young girl needs company" Leon will immediately appear out of nowhere grabbing you by the waist and taking you with him.

At the same time, he will send a scathing look to the man.

Sometimes Leon can be very sarcastic towards you, but then he himself will feel guilty for it.

I think the longer he is in a stable relationship, the stronger his love for his partner becomes, and he doesn't care how much younger you are!

He loves you, and the thought that you might leave him for someone else bothers him. Therefore, sometimes Leon takes flirting with guys with hostility.

He is not one of those who will make a scandal out of the blue, but most likely will hold an explanatory conversation with you at home.

He just wants to make sure that your relationship with him is not a fun game for you.

Maybe he just took a friendly conversation like that, but you don't consider a conversation with a friend to be flirting.

It will be done professionally and unnoticeably (until morning), but Leon will leave you noticeable marks. How were you supposed to know that a sweet kiss on your neck would turn into a hickey?

Pretty hard to hide if it's summer or spring outside.

But Leon doesn't regret judging by his smug grin.

You're his woman. Of course you have complete freedom of action, but that asshole will know that you have someone and there is nothing to bother with an invitation to a date.

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #Leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #re #resident evil headcanons #headcanon #leon kennedy headcanons #reader

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