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#fog along the ridge
geopsych · 13 days ago
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Fog lifting along the ridge.
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sugawarassoulmate · 8 months ago
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Mattsun x my second date 🍑 you went out last night and hook up with you're volleyball coach.
so uhhhh i may have girlbossed a lil too much with this one
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words: 1k (whoops)
cw: fem!reader, volleyball coach!mattsun, college au, age gap (reader is 19/20, mattsun is in late 20s/early 30s), hooking up, strangers, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, minors dni
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you’ve never been the type to go out like this, you never thought you’d feel comfortable getting drunk in some shady nightclub but somehow your friends managed to convince you. and, shockingly, you were having a good time—dancing stupidly with your friends in a too-short dress and scoring free drinks by flirting with dudes who didn’t mean anything.
and you’ve definitely weren’t the type to bring home one of those meaningless dudes for a quick fuck. this was so stupid, so dangerous but you and this mystery man had been flirting all night—your eyes zeroing in on the silver rings adorning his fingers and wondering how they’d feel against your clit. “it’s getting late…” he had said, massive hand gripping your thigh as both of you sat at the bar. “little girls like you should be heading home now.” but you, with alcohol fogging your brain and your tits practically spilling out from the top of your dress, clinged to the handsome man. “call me, issei,” he had said.
“so make sure i get home safe,” you slurred, pressing your body against his.
you barely make it two steps into your apartment before you’re dragging him to the bedroom. issei’s enormous body hovers over you, tugging your poor excuse of a dress down to bare your chest to him. “stupid slut thinking with her clit, huh?” he says, pinching your bud between his fingers, making you whine. “bet you wanted me to do this all night.” his cold rings against your nubs has you spasming underneath him.
“here…” you moan, spreading your legs, hoping he’ll show attention to your cunt ruining the lacy underwear you had on.
he chuckles at you, still playing with your tits while his free hand palms his cock confined in the dark slacks he has on. “that desperate for me to split you open, sweetheart? never taking his eyes off you, issei unbuttons his trousers, freeing his cock. it’s thick and heavy in his hand, slapping against the meat of your thigh and you feel how fucking giant it is.
you start feeling lightheaded, there’s no way you can take him but your cunt still pulses at the sight of him. issei smirks, pushing your dress up so the fabric is bunched up at your waist. peeling your panties off, he groans looking at your drooling sex, running his fingers along the slit.
issei stretches you with his fingers, the ridges of his rings against your sensitive walls. he spreads your legs more to get his head between them and laughs against your cunt when you cry out. his tongue laps against your folds, collecting the juices and making vulgar noises that just keep getting you more and more wet.
pressure is building in the pit of your tummy, you’re trying to push issei away from you but he’s so strong, keeping you in place until you cum against his face. finally he pulls away from your cunt, thumb still rubbing your clit just to hear your pathetic sobs.
“wan’ your cock…” you mumble, pulling issei up to kiss him. it’s hard to ignore the massive weight between his legs and you’re still so sure he’s going to break you.
“are you sure, sweetie?” he coos, rubbing his cock against your cunt. it’s so messy that he could easily slip in if he wanted to. “could cum just like this…”
but that wasn’t good enough for you. with your weak little body, you’re grinding on issei’s cock just enough so it finally enters you—both of you gasping when his tip catches your clit ever so slightly. “ahhh, fuck, you’re so big,”
issei grunts feeling your warmth around him, struggling not to pound into you. he’s about half way in when you’re crying on his cock, babbling about how it’s too much. “you wanted this, you little pain slut. you’re gonna take all of me,” and he’s folding your body in half, licking up your tears until he’s buried at the hilt.
“shit,” he breathes, taking a moment before he pulls out just a bit and slams back in. your walls are tight around him, spasming around his cock with every gasp and cry that falls from your lips. “such a pretty lil cockwarmer, aren’t ya?” he preens.
“sei, sei!” you babble, feeling that coil tightening again but issei shushes you because he knows. both of you cum at the same time, you’re creaming on his cock while he fills you with his hot seed. you’re gasping into each other’s mouths. issei pulls out, marveling at how his cum dribbles out of you.
“that’s a good girl,”
you’re walking into practice a few days later, still sore from what happened that night. you told your teammates you had fallen down. your faculty advisor had all of you lined up before practice with an announcement.
“great news, girls,” she had said, a prideful look on her face as she was brimming with excitement. “we finally found a coach to train with you!” the team started whispering amongst themselves, wondering who it could have possibly been. for months, you all have been desperately looking for a new coach after the last one retired, leaving you high and dry.
she started rattling off facts about him, saying he was a middle blocker for aoba johsai back when tooru oikawa was the captain. you drowned out at some point, massaging your sore shoulders before the door of the gym opened, and a familiar man walked onto the court.
“there he is! girls, this is issei matsukawa, your new coach.” she said, gesturing to the tall man standing before you. your teammates began whispering again, ranging from how excited they were to have a coach again to how “hot” the new coach was. but you froze in place, remembering that messy black hair and those silver rings on his fingers.
and as issei speaks to all of you, about how happy he is to help the team out during practice, his eyes never leave yours. “i look forward to giving you my personal attention,” he says with a wink.
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sugawarassoulmate 3k follower event
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago
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Welcome To Wanda’s💋
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, drugging.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features witch!Wanda Maximoff. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You visit a curious little shop but meet a person just a curious within.
Note: As a precursor, I did minimal research and know little about wicca or witchcraft as a whole, I looked up a few things but do not take this to be an accurate depiction of either of those, just a bit of fun!😈😈😈 furthermore, this is my first wlw fic so please be kind.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
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The small shop with its leaning aisles and cluttered shelves smells of frankincense and cinnamon as incense wisps in willowy curls. Foggy vials filled with powders and tinctures, the claws of creatures long dead, and tomes with ridged spines line the tight rows. 
You trail Alize as there is room only for one at a time amid the crowded space, the hum of wooden pipes and dull tinkle of bells padding from a speaker hidden somewhere in the hodgepodge. 
Alize stops as her ebony nails tap an incense holder in the shape of a goat's head with twist horns. She admires it and checks the tag that dangles from a length of red thread. Her eyes narrow at the numbers running through her head.
"This is cute," she says as she takes it, "see anything you like?"
"You know I'm not into all this stuff," you chuckle, "but it looks cool."
"Yes, I almost forgot your penchant for faux fur and sequins."
"Different breeds," you shrug as you eye some jade cut into sharp octagonal shards, "are you going to curse me?"
"Stop," she warns, "you know that stopped being funny three years ago."
“To you,” you tease and look closer at an orb with varying shades of violet stained on the glass as the inside was decorated with what appeared to be mortified icicles.
“Looking for something in particular?” the slightly lilted voice frightens you as you reel back from the shelf, nearly knocking over a statue of a prone woman from the one behind you.
“I need some yarrow and ground ivy,” Alize says as she peeks around you, “do you happen to have any valerian?”
“I keep my ingredients behind the counter,” the woman answers as pinches a lock of her strawberry blonde hair and drags her fingertips down the wave. She watches you with her crystal blue eyes. “I sell by weight, it is much more affordable than those hacks on the internet.”
“Awesome,” Alize sidles past you and you barely keep from pushing over the shelf as you press yourself to it and feel it rock, hearing the glass, metal, and stones shift, “I never saw this place before. I’m always hanging around over at The Root. Did you just open?”
You follow her and stop beside her at the counter, a small rack of braided cuffs and dangling earrings drawing your attention. You pivot it slowly as Alize continues to chat with the woman who introduces herself as the namesake on the moniker, Wanda. She measures out the ingredients and seals them in bamboo sachets. She tallies up the receipt on her ancient register as your companion searches her spiked purse.
“I have some new pieces I have not yet put out,” Wanda suggests as she reaches below the counter and pulls out a velvet board of charms and chain, “this garnet speaks to me.” She takes a silver chain and dangles a crimson teardrop before you, “you have a fiery spirit, I can see it.”
“It’s very beautiful,” you smile, “but I’m on a budget.”
“It has not been inventoried,” she tilts her head with a smooth curve of her lips, “so it needn’t be purchased.”
She unhooks the chain and holds the necklace open as she leans over the counter. You wave her back and giggle nervously.
“No, really, it’s okay, that’s very nice of you,” you protest.
“You need to harness that strength,” she gets her arms around you and clasps the necklace, pulling back to let it fall against your clavicle, “I sense you will need it.”
“Please, I can’t--” you reach back to undo it yourself and Alize stops you.
“Don’t be rude,” she chides, “it is an omen, not a gift.”
You still and drop your arms. You scrunch your lips and bounce on your feet. “Thank you, it’s very nice.”
“Only one debt,” Wanda holds up a finger, “you come back. I do readings and you need to hear what I can tell you.”
“No offense, but I don’t really… do that,” you say awkwardly.
“You don’t need to believe,” she says smoothly, “but you will need to hear me. Trust me.”
“Alright,” you force a smile, “I guess I can come back.”
“You too,” she nods at Alize however her eyes remain on you, “though you appear already to see as I do.”
💋
It’s devil’s night, that’s what Alize said. The autumnal chill is swathed with orange, red, and brown, jack-o-lanterns flickers on stoops as skeletons and bats dance on the windows of shops and home alike. She says it’s bet to do it that night, that she went back to Wanda’s apothecary and spoke with the mysterious woman about your visit.
The shop is dark as you approach, the windows shuddered with scarlet fabric and the sign flipped to ‘closed’. Alize rings the rusty old buzzer and waits as she checks her phone. She taps her heel and glances over her shoulder as you stand on the cracked concrete behind her and hug yourself against the brisk gusts.
“She said to meet her here,” Alize says, “Maybe we’re late… or early.”
The latch turns loudly and the door creaks as it opens from the other side. The hinges whine loudly through the bluster and babble of trick-or-treaters along the next street. The woman greets you in swathes of red, a matching crown over her brow as scarves hang from her hips in a delicately laid skirt. Her eyes flash for a moment, seeming to reflect the vibrant hue of her clothing and she beckons you within.
“Good evening,” she says in a low tone, “I’ve been waiting, my lovely sisters.”
“I brought my deck,” Alize says as she brushes her dark hair with her fingers and sends a ripple through the silky strands, “just in case.”
“Deck? We will not be reading cards,” Wanda insists as she guides you down one of the cramped aisles, “I’ve brewed my special tea, the leaves will tell us what we need.”
“Oh?” Alize grips the top of her satchel, the fringe waving with the motion of her hip, “that’s… interesting. My grandmother reads leaves but I’ve never got the knack of it.”
“It is an ancient practice and a gift you cannot learn,” Wanda tosses over her shoulder as she stops at a slanted door, “my altar is here.”
She lets you in and holds the door. You sense her eyes on you and look over as her long lashes flick up and she grins. She closes the door behind you and rounds the table at the centre of the candlelit space, cushions set out around the low surface.
You sit as you take off your jackets and set down your purses beside you. You bend your legs before you and watch the shopkeeper’s deliberate but slow movements.
“First we must brew the tea,” she says as she takes out a cloth bag and offers its open mouth to Alize, “take a pinch.” 
She holds it out to you and you do the same. She takes a pinch of her own and reveals a metal ball with holes speckled over its surface. She has you place the cluster of tea leaves inside with Alize’s and her owns and measures out the rest with a small silver spoon. She clasps it shut and dangles it from the chain. She places a kettle to boil and sets the ball inside a stained tea pot.
She pours the steaming water as Alize plays with her phone. Wanda plunks down the pot as the fog rises from its spout and lowers herself to another cushion. She looks at your friend dully.
“Your reading would be tainted by distraction,” she warns.
“Sorry,” Alize tucks away her phone and Wanda looks at the three cups before her.
She places a black cup with golden ridges before Alize and a more delicate blush colored cup before you with roses printed on its side. For herself, she take a petal red cup with an elaborate handle. She pours the tea one at a time and puts the pot in the center of the table below the tall candelabra.
“Inhale the scent,” she lifts her cup and takes a deep breath, “let it sink into and drink slowly. Focus on the present as you sip but do not rush. Feel the music.”
You listen to the subtle melody as it plucked from some unseen source, crackly but calming. You smell the tea, the black leaves heady and bitter as you take your first taste. Alize chokes and sops up the droplets with her long sleeve. Wanda drinks, her pale through moving beneath the choker wound around her neck. Her lips draw your attention as her tongue slips out and you feel an odd warmth along your collar bone.
You continue to drink as you avert your eyes, Alize the first to lower her empty cup, a bit heavily as she overturns it on the table. You glance over at her and she smiles, almost dopily back at you. You finish the stringent dregs of tea and place your own before you. Wanda is the last and peers into her cup emotionlessly.
“You, little birdie,” she points at you with a long finger, “look into your cup and tell me what you see.”
You tilt the cup as Alize hiccups and tries to peek over into the porcelain. The leaves look like a senseless cluster and you squint. It almost looks like…
“A bird?” you say as you look a little closer.
“A crow,” Alize adds smugly.
“Or perhaps something more lively, a new beginning on the wings of a sparrow,” Wanda offers, “how about you, the prophet?” she gestures to Alize, “tell us what you see.”
Alize takes her cup and looks inside as your own clinks onto the wood. She sighs and shrugs. “A cloud? It’s all just bunched up.”
“There is anxiety in your life, something unknown that cannot be known until it is past,” Wanda says, “as you knew, we cannot see all that comes.”
“I told you, I’m no good at this,” she plops her cup down gruffly, “whatever.”
“You have little patience for a witch,” Wanda rebukes, “I think you like the tools more than the practice.”
“Urgh,” Alize doesn’t give the expected defensive response. The same girl you’ve watched snarl and spit about her craft touches her forehead and sways in place, “that tea is making me sick.”
“I told you not to drink too fast--”
Alize grabs the edge of the table and the cup clatters to the floor as she falls forward, her head bouncing off the wood before she slumps over against your thigh. You feel dizzy two, the smoke of the candles bringing tears to your eyes, as the warmth swells in your chest. You look down at the garnet stone hanging from your neck as it glows in the dim of the room.
The heat intensifies and sink deep into your skin, encircling your heart and flowing up your throat. Your head feels as if it will split in two as your eyes well and your lips pouted as the air went out of you. You felt odd, like your blood was on fire and your nerves spin wildly around you in sparks that had you blinking madly.
Your body goes limp and all of a sudden you were moving without meaning to. Your vision cleared as you saw Wanda above you, your figure rising in tandem with her hand as she lifts it before her and contorts it oddly. She twiddles her index and middle finger and your legs walk backwards under you. You feel as if you're on stilts as she manipulates your body to her whim.
The amulet pulses against your chest and you feel your energy slaking into the stone. You hit the wall and your feet leave the floor as you slide a foot above the old wooden boards. 
Your head lolls in confusion as your murmur and your voice stifles with the pinch of her fingers. You feel as if you're choking on your voicebox as she nears, your arms and legs pinned to the wall by some unearthly force as glowing scarlet rings swirl around your limbs.
You quiver as she puts two fingers against the necklace and traces along the chain. You feel the energy throb in the charm as she chuckles. Your eyes follow her painted fingernails and she tickles along the edge of your shirt. The fabric sears away with the toothless flames that spiral from her fingertips. You watch as the fabric dissipates into ash and powders to the floor.
“I’d rather non-believer than a fair weather witch,” she says in her soft accent, “a pretender cannot stand the tea…”
You whimper in confusion. You can’t understand what’s going on, certain the tea was laced with some hallucinogenic to conjure the strange scene unfolding around you. Alize sprawls over the floor lifeless as you float in the flickering restraints.
“Do you know what the meaning of garnet is?” she asks but you cannot speak, “it is never gifted lightly. It represents blood and the heart, the pool of our life. More succinctly, it is a symbol of love.”
Her hands grazes along your cleavage as you bra disintegrates beneath her touch. She continued her path along the curves of your body as every inch is bared to the red-tinted haze. You squirm before her as your head swims and you see two of her, then three, and then one again. You gasp as she brushes along your hip and taps lightly over your thigh.
“A witch has her familiars, her coven,” she drawls, “but what she truly desires is a thrall.”
You whine as she plays with the tuft of hair between your legs and they are forced apart by the magical coils. She dips her fingers between your folds and you quiver as you feel the slickness coat her skin. She toys with you, dragging your pleasure in wet lines along your cunt and circling your clit. She smiles as you hear your sopping desire and you squeeze your eyes shut in shame.
She snaps her fingers as her other hand continues to tease you and your eyes snap open. You watch her delve further back as her other hand explores your stomach and cups your chest delicately as she kisses your rigid buds. She hums as she slips two fingers into you and rocks her hands as she nibbles at you cloyingly.
You shudder as the tendrils creep from her touch and tug at your inside. You mewl as you feel the incline and push your head back into the hard wall. Your toes curl as she tilts her hand faster and your thighs clench in expectation. You cum as she sucks on your nipple, her tongue playing with it as she holds your other tit in her hand. You gush down her knuckles as she buries them as deep as she can and you cry out in torrents of pleasure.
Her lips trail down your flesh as she leaves a path of spit down your stomach. You murmur as she fingers you gently, replacing her thumb with her tongue as she gets to her knees. You feel her voice roll through you as she purrs and tells you how good you taste. You gasp and suck in air as you look down at her rosy blonde locks. Her eyes meet yours and glow with licking red flames.
He shoves a third finger into you and turns her hand as she stretches you, suckling on your bud until it thrums. You spasm as your legs bend around you wide and welcome her even deeper. She laps at thirstily and you cum again as her moans mingle with her own. You feel electricity coursing through your veins as every curl of her fingers sends sparks flying.
“Mistress,” she speaks against your thigh as she fucks you harder with her hand, “that is what you will call me, little birdie.”
You groan and bite down on your cheeks. You quake as your delight flows down her arm and she licks up the rolling beads from her pale skin. Her lips are wet and shiny as she looks at you again and she lets out a pleased ‘ahhh’.
“M-M-Mistresssssssss,” the words drags out on your tongue as you gulp through your dry throat.
“Beg me, little birdie,” she slows her hand and rolls your clit under her thumb, “beg to be mine.”
“I…” your head swims and your thoughts scramble. The words aren’t your own but you speak them aloud, “I’m yours, mistress, all yours. Please, make me yours.”
“As you wish, little birdie,” she withdraws her hand and you sigh at the cold emptiness she leaves between your legs, “be mine.”
You fall to your feet and she grabs the back of your head. She wrenches you away from the wall and you stumble forward onto your knees as she keeps hold of you. 
The scarlet scarves flutter away from her body and reveal her perfect form, her pert tits and supple ass, the smooth milk of her flawless flesh. She thrusts your face against her and bends her leg over your shoulder as she pulls your head back.
You grab onto her hip and she takes your hand stretching your arm to place your fingers on her firm chest. She squeezes your grasp around her and kneads her own chest with your hand. She rocks her pelvis as you open your mouth to drink her up. She tastes sweet, divinely so, unlike anything you’ve tasted before. You can’t help but hum but your voice is raw and unfamiliar.
“Drink of me,” she says as her nails dig into your scalp, “and be mine forever.”
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yeouls · a year ago
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SYNOPSIS | an innocent virgins late night craving for her boyfriends cock <33
CONTENT | blowjob, a whole lotta praise, shy reader.
WORD COUNT | 2.1k
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it was on impulse. you hadn’t taken full aware of your actions until you found yourself sitting in the living room of your boyfriends apartment at two in the morning. a droopy eyed jean was certainly shocked by your presence.
“are you gonna tell me why you’re here so late, babe?” he yawned as he pulled you closer to him on the couch. his sleepy voice filled your stomach with a warm sensation. his scruff pricked your neck in a tickle as he drowsily buried his head into your neck.
“i…um…i wanted to try something.”
you were nervous to tell him the real reason for your presence so late at night.
“it couldn’t wait till tomorrow?” he asks as he peppers soft kisses into your neck.
although the two of you had been a couple for the past six months you never tried anything. it was always kisses and hugs that were nothing but innocent. jean had been well aware of your chastity and insisted on taking things slow. but the continuous whispers of wanting to take a step forward were persistent in your thoughts.
“are you going to laugh at me if i tell you?” you question as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap.
“i don’t know where this is coming from but i would never. you’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?” he reassures, softly grabbing your jaw making you look him in the eye. his words seemed sincere but the lingering fear of him laughing at your foolishness was an inevitable emotion.
“can i show you instead?”
his face merges into that of a confused man. his eyes were less fogged with sleep and more fogged with intrigue. your mysterious request had taken him by interest.
he pulls you closer by your jaw before placing a soft kiss to your lips. “if that makes you feel better, go for it.”
you nervously chew on your bottom lip as you slip away from his grip.
“um…can you close your eyes?” you request as you avoid meeting his curious gaze.
“you’re beginning to scare me but if you insist,” he amusingly chuckles as he obliges to your request. with his arms splayed against the top of the couch and his legs slightly apart you were at an advantage.
with knees weak from nervousness you manage to slide from the couch onto the icy, wooden floor. the moment your hands traced up and down his built thighs, jean had opened his eyes in shock. after all, his innocent girlfriend was on her knees in between his legs with a look of desire spilling from her eyes.
“baby, what are you doing?”
his voice was breathy from shock as your hand trailed up his leg.
“i wanna touch it.”
you finally managed to bring yourself to say it. his reaction was not one you had expected. he didn’t laugh nor yell. he grabs ahold of your wrist as he pulls up onto your feet and settles you in his lap.
“who taught you that, princess? you don’t have to feel forced to do things like that just because we are dating,” he says with a voice laced in worry and concern.
“no one, i didn’t get to do anything nice for you on your birthday,” you explain to him as you fiddle with your thumbs. you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye because of embarrassment from the stunt you pulled. what were you expecting?
“i don’t want you to do anything you might not like,” he whispers as he cups your cheeks to grant you comfort.
“but i want to make you feel good,” you murmur as you finally bring yourself to look into his eyes.
“you can’t force yourself to do something you don’t know how to do, baby,” he sighs from frustration.
the truth was that he held himself back with every nerve in his body to try and not take you right there on the couch. your pouty lips and lust driven eyes were hard to resist.
although he protested the action, his dick was growing harder by the second and you could feel it.
“can you teach me? i wanna learn how to make you feel good.”
“will you promise that you’ll stop whenever you feel like it and not force yourself?”
a smile appears on your face from his statement.
“yes, i promise.”
“if you want to stop, you have to tell me,” he reiterates as he softly brushes your cheek.
“i understand,” you reassure as you pull him into a kiss. his worrisome nature when it came to you showed you that he truly cared.
“get on your knees,” he orders against your lips. you eagerly comply as you once again place yourself between his thighs. your stunt on him early truly did a number seeing how there was a large tent in his pants.
the sight of the bulge in his sweats was enough to make your heart pound against your ribs. you hadn’t even pulled his pants down and you could see how big he is.
your eyes momentarily flick up to look at him only to see that his hazel eyes had gone dark with a fervid lust. you bring your attention back to the excitement between his legs. your hands begin to caress his thighs and inch up towards his groin.
“fuck, baby,” he hisses as you massage his hardness through the thin layer of material. you weren’t aware that such a light touch could bring him pleasure. you can only imagine how much sexual frustration he has built up in the past half year.
your hands eagerly make their way towards the band of his sweats. your action comes to a halt as jean quickly grabs a hold of your wrist. “let’s move to the bed, your knees will hurt here.”
you really didn’t have a preference as long as you were able to please him. you nod your head in agreement as he guides you with him by your wrist. if anything, you take more of a liking to the cushioning of his bed than to the cold, hard wood floor. you enjoy how his calming scent enveloped the sheets.
while you favored the comfort of the bed, jean propped himself up against the headboard. you waste no time as you impatiently take your position between his thighs. he couldn’t help but chuckle at your excitement. if he knew that you were this eager to try such things, he would’ve definitely brought it up earlier.
he rasps at the cool air as you tug down his sweats. you can’t bring yourself to move from shock at his size. his cock was long and thick with a flush red shade.
his hand cups your cheek as he guides you to his eyes. “don’t worry, baby. we won’t do anything that you’re not ready for, okay?”
you nod as you gulp before reaching out to his cock. it feels hot to touch under your cold finger tips. you could hear him grunt from the soft contact. you grip it as if it were some precious gold. you hold it familiarizing yourself with the ridges of skin and pulsing veins that inched up the sides.
you had come all this way but you didn’t know what to do with it. you blankly stare at your grip on his dick and than back at jean looking for some guidance.
“hold it a bit tighter, princess. you’re not going to hurt me,” he explains as you oblige by his order. “and than you move it like this.”
his large, callous hand grips over yours as he begins to pump a slow pace. he leads your hand up and down along the flushed skin. you are in awe of how clear beadings of liquid drool from the tip creating a glistening layer on the red skin.
“it keeps getting bigger,” you whisper in a shy tone. you were the one who started all this but you couldn’t help feeling shy in such an intense moment.
“that’s because you’re making me feel so good,” he rasps as he lets you take lead of the pace. he uses both his hands to cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss as you continue pump him at a quicker pace in your hand.
“fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he groans against your lips. the new pet name causes heated flutters in your warm cunt, you liked it. a foreign feeling of wet pleasure pools in between your legs. you can’t help but squirm in attempt to relief yourself.
you fall back from the intense kiss with a low whimper.
you experimentally rub over the swell tip of his dick. his cock gently twitches at the teasing touch. he now stood fully erect in the confides of your hand.
“good god,” he grunts under his breath as you lean forward and place a kiss on his blushing tip while you continue to pump him in your hand.
“can i put it in my mouth?” you ask with half-lidded eyes. how could he say no when your puffy lips were centimeters away from his dick?
“don’t force yourself to take it all, okay?”
you nod your head in compliance as he pushes your hair out of your face. he softly grips your chin pulling you towards his cock. “spit on it for me, baby.”
you listen as you collect the warm liquid in your mouth letting the string fall to the slit of his tip. “a little more for me, princess.”
you spit again coating the head of his dick in the clear substance. “just like that.”
you keep rubbing your thighs together in anticipation trying to gain a sense of pleasure. the sight of his dick was enough to have you dripping. all you wanted to do was see how it would fill you. how you would be a fragile, crying mess under him.
you can’t even wait for him to give you an order and impatiently run your tongue up the base of his cock. you were eager to feel him pulsing in your mouth—eager to taste him. the salty flavor of him fills your mouth. it wasn’t unpleasant, you were in fact delighted with the addicting taste. you tasted the tangy pre-cum leaking from his tip with excitement.
you take your time letting your tongue tease at the sensitive ridge under his tip before softly sucking on his tip.
“fuck, watch your teeth,” he hisses as he pulls you away for a second. you were afraid that you had hurt him.
“you’re doing great but try and use your tongue and not your teeth, okay baby?”
“okay,” you murmur before pressing your lips to his dick again. you take as much of him as you can before sucking—this time without your teeth in the way. you hollow your cheeks and begin to move up and down against his hard cock. you feel encouraged by his breathy moans.
through your thick lashes you begin to observe the contours of pleasure on his face. he had gone pink all the way to the tip of his ears. you can see the rises and falls of his chest as low grunts and praises peered from his lips. his brows knit together as his plump lips were slightly open allowing mumbles of words to pass through.
you push his dick deeper into your throat as you attempt to take more of him into your mouth. your soft gags and lewd slurps on his skin fill the room. your eyes brink in tears as drippings of saliva drool from your mouth.
“god, you’re doing so good, my pretty girl. so fucking good,” he coos as you administer a slightly quicker pace. he gently bucks up into your throat as you feel him twitch against your tongue.
the warm drops of a bitter liquid hit the roof of your mouth before coating your tongue.
“i know it doesn’t taste good, baby. spit it out, don’t force yourself, hm?” he practically begs as one hand grips your cheeks and the other props under your chin.
you try to swallow but you couldn’t bring yourself to let it past your throat. it was thick and strange in consistency and didn’t taste all that good.
you open your mouth allowing the substance to fill his palm. “there you go, good girl.”
he leans over pulling tissues from the box on the nightstand before wiping his palm.
“did i do good?” you ask as you shyly play with your thumbs.
“you did amazing, baby,” he praises as he flips you to lay underneath him. his fingers linger along the band of your leggings as he pulls them down in a swift motion.
“and now it’s my turn to return the favor and make you feel good, isn’t it?”
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phillippadgettwrites · 4 months ago
Text
Temptation
Rated E / 1021 words / Posted on AO3
They try to stop. If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.
Fail and fail and fail again.
No more adjoining rooms. No more late night case file reviews. No more time together outside of work. No more time alone. But that last one is impossible; they are always alone. And there is always temptation.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
A drenching rain strands them on the side of a country road. Visibility is nil, water running over the windows like a curtain. Privacy in the wide open of midday.
She stares through the waterlogged windshield, her chest heaving. He keeps his hands on the wheel at ten and two, his cock twitching beneath his navy slacks. They don’t look at each other, because that’s always how it starts.
But he can feel her pussy throbbing in his heartbeat. And while it’s not logical, he swears he can smell her. Their breath fogs up the windows. His knuckles blanch. Her eyes dart over to the pronounced ridge along his inner thigh and a sigh flutters in the back of her throat. He looks at her.
The steering wheel digs into her lower back, her knee crammed against the gear shift so hard it will take hours for the dent to fade from her skin. He murmurs “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over again as he drives into her, her pants on the passenger seat and her panties pulled to the side. “Goddamn it, you’re so fucking tight,” he says like it’s an accusation, and she clutches around him, whimpering into his ear as she shows him just how tight she can get.
The rain lets up, glove box napkins blot at stains that will require dry cleaning. That time will be the last, they promise. They try again.
She forgot her glasses. Not intentionally, of course, these things happen. He offers to bring them by on his way home from the office. Her apartment is not on his way home, and she has a backup pair, but she says okay, and thank you.
He hovers outside her doorway, knowing she won’t issue an invitation to come in. Knowing she can’t, because they made an agreement. He’s discarded his suit jacket and dress shirt, the corded muscles of his arms flexing as he stuffs his hands into his pants pockets.
She thinks about the stiff lines of his cock. Firm ridges under her tongue, the thick helmet of his head pressing into her. Her mouth falls open, willpower wavering under the promise of him hammering against her cervix, or her pharynx, or her anything, really. He makes her feel famished, desperate, needy and unhinged. He makes her stupid enough to reach out and touch his arm, pulling him through the open door.
His back is on the linoleum, his shirt pushed up to his neck. She hums happily as she sucks him off, tugging on his balls and clenching her thighs together. He whimpers and pushes her away, too close, and she mounts him with confidence. Rough and sloppy, his pubic hair digging into her clit, she arches her back and gasps “Oh, god,” her face a mask of pain and pleasure. Nothing ever feels as good as doing something you’re not supposed to.  
Her glasses are on the table, the door falls shut behind him, and she wipes up the puddle on the floor with a paper towel. They try again.
They had the curtains open at first, exposing his room to the parking lot of the motel and making nefarious deeds unwise. But there were children playing on the sidewalk and the gruesome photos of a woman with her neck slashed open wide might traumatize them. He feels his balls tighten at the screech of the metal rungs sliding over the curtain rod, darkening the room save for one bedside lamp. Opportunity. Temptation.
Scully in cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt, cross legged on the bed. His eye is drawn to the fabric covering her little venus fly trap of a cunt. She lures him closer with her pheromones and her promise of a nice place to rest, and then she devours him. He’s powerless, a fly caught in her web; she wraps him up tight and doesn’t let go.
His teeth pressed against the hood of her clit, his tongue feverishly flicking, he’s consumed by consuming her. She can never rightly say he isn’t any good at multitasking, with his mouth on her and his fingers in her and his other hand stroking his own aching cock. Her thighs clamped against his ears muffle her cries of ecstasy, but he feels them in his throat as he drinks her down.
Photos stashed, curtains opened, her shorts will be found later behind the desk and the bureau card will be charged for the stain on the floor that never comes out. They try again.
He is inconsolable. Heartbroken and angry in the same breath, burying the answers along with his last remaining family member. He clings to her, hot tears becoming hot kisses, a tortured mouth finding solace around a soft breast.
She gently dissuades him, but he is persistent, and she is weak at the sight of him hurting. For the first time it’s not rushed, doesn’t feel stolen. She lets him love her, and love her he does. They touch and taste for hours, edging close and then pulling away. He fucks her from behind and when he withdraws and presses against her other entrance, she doesn’t say no. It’s new and a different kind of forbidden, and she feels like she’s giving him something special, showing him how much he means to her. Tight fit, sharp gasp, adjust and then surrender.
They are both shocked by how good it feels, wondering if it’s the act itself or the intimacy they’ve allowed themselves, finally. He cuddles her close and she listens as his heartbeat comes down, and then the soft rumbles of snores echoing in his chest. She stays all night, and in the morning, and every day after. They stop trying to stop.
Tagging @today-in-fic
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greyduckgreygoose · a year ago
Note
29 for geraskier for the smut prompts?
(porn parody version of e.5, show characterization so they’re kind of mean to each other lol, rough drunk sex, geralt/jaskier, explicit)
--
“If you cant sleep…then how about we have sex?”
Geralt paused in pulling in his net to regard Jaskier with an incredulous expression. The bard stank of drink, the look in his eyes slightly manic, his fine clothes rumpled like he’d spent the night under a tavern table. 
Geralt knew he was in little better shape.
“Fuck off, Jaskier,” he said, winding the damp rope between his hands.
“I’m serious!” Jaskier chirped brightly, following Geralt as he walked ponderously to another spot downstream, hoping that Jaskier would take the hint and leave him be. “Think about it - you’re tired, I’m broken-hearted. Orgasms are a well-acknowledged cure for both ailments. And what’s a few orgasms between friends?”
“Not-”
“Yes, yes,” Jaskier made exaggerated quote gestures with his fingers, one hand still clutching his flask. “Not friends. A few orgasms between friendly acquaintances, then.”
Geralt sighed shortly. That wasn’t even what he was looking to correct. And of all the ways he’d wanted Jaskier, drunk and stinking of longing for another lover had never been one of them.
Not that Geralt would likely be allowed to have him any other way. 
Fuck, the fatigue must be close to killing him if he was actually considering this. 
“It’s not like there’s anything to lose,” Jaskier said, swooning closer. Geralt turned to face him, and Jaskier bumped into his chest. He seemed little inclined to move from there, his arm snaking behind Geralt’s back to clasp his waist. “If it doesn’t work, then I’ll leave you to your,” he made an empty gesture. “... fishing.” 
“Hmm,” Geralt said, his thoughts scattering at the smell of Jaskier’s sun-warm skin. “You’ll leave me alone?” 
“Hand to chest,” Jaskier declared, inclining his head so that their mouths were a breath’s width apart, his eyes blue and round and shining with an unstable excitement. 
“I don’t see-” Geralt said, each word exiting softer than the last as he melted into a kiss. 
Jaskier tasted of strong, cheap spirit, his mouth hot and slick under Geralt’s. This was a terrible idea. For so many reasons. But the fatigue was doing a number on his impulse control, and Geralt could not summon a single protest against falling into what he’d fantasied about for years, alone in the woods or on the other side of a thin inn wall, resentfully willing away his erection as Jaskier took his pleasure with his partner of the night. 
Well now it was Geralt licking in Jaskier’s mouth, stripping off his rumpled jacket and pulling his tunic out of his trousers to stroke his hands across all that sun-warmed skin. Geralt biting his way down the line of Jaskier’s neck, sucking a vivid, possessive mark in the juncture of his shoulder. Geralt pulling open the front of Jaskier’s trousers to grip his pulsing cock through the front of his smalls.
“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, and, “fuck.” 
“Eloquent” Geralt grunted as he hauled Jaskier’s thighs around his hips, hoisting him off the ground with little warning. 
Jaskier yelped, clinging tightly to Geralt’s shoulders. “I didn’t think you were the type to request fine poetry for bedding ... how about this: there was once a man named Gerry-” 
Jaskier’s words were lost as Geralt shoved Jaskier’s back against the trunk of a tree and roughly covered his chattering mouth with Geralt’s own. There was a fever under Geralt’s skin, the thick scent of Jaskier’s arousal spurring Geralt’s roughest impulses. 
Grinding the ridge of his cock against Jaskier’s erection made them both groan, and Geralt pulled him closer, rolling his hips between Jaskier’s spread thighs greedily though they had still three layers of clothes or more between them. 
Their rutting was sloppy, uncoordinated. Jaskier panted into Geralt’s mouth and clawed at his clothed shoulders as Geralt dragged his tongue along the underside of Jaskier’s jaw, nipping at a tender spot on the side of Jaskier’s neck that had him gasping.
“Don’t fucking spend in your smalls,” Jaskier’s hands dropped to the laces of Geralt’s braies, his fingers scrambling clumsily to pull them open. “I want you to fuck me, Witcher.” 
Geralt growled, incensed by the moniker as much as the command. Jaskier laughed breathily, no fear in his scent at all. 
“Where’s the oil?” Geralt asked roughly.
“Why do you think I have-”
“You’re a slut,” Geralt said, biting again at Jaskier’s neck. 
“... good point,” Jaskier panted. “Back trouser pocket.” 
Perhaps Geralt took this opportunity to grope Jaskier’s ass a little more than strictly necessary, but it was, admittedly, a nice ass. Round and soft, not pimply at all as the Lord had claimed. And Jaskier did make such a nice squeak every time Geralt smacked his backside.
“And here I’d been wooing you with subtlety and grace,” Jaskier babbled as Geralt manhandled him to face the tree and tore down the back of Jaskier’s braies. “When all along I should’ve just gotten drunk and dumped myself on your lap.”
“Stop talking,” Geralt grunted, pouring half the vial onto his fingers and almost dropping the rest to the ground as it threatened to slip from his grasp. 
“Why don’t you make m-” Jaskier’s syllables melted into a shuddering moan as Geralt sank two fingers into his ass with little warning, working Jaskier’s hole open with rough impatience. 
“That’s more like it,” Geralt licked the shell of Jaskier’s blood-hot ear, lining himself up and dripping oil everywhere. 
"Oh," Jaskier panted as Geralt rocked into him. His pants were trapped around his knees, forcing his ass out as he braced himself against the tree. "Oh fuck-"
Geralt sank in halfway, then pulled out to smooth another handful of oil over his shaft. Jaskier made a low, throaty sound as Geralt fucked into him again, rocking backwards with pained little sounds as his ass was spread open.
"I'm not gonna last, fuck," Jaskier panted, striping his prick frantically under his body.
"Aren't you going to let me fuck you until I fall asleep?" Geralt asked, thrusting shallowly into Jaskier's body. Like this, with his pants down and his shirt tucked up to his mid-back, Jaskier looked incredibly vulnerable. Geralt leaned forward and dragged his tongue across the back of Jaskier's nape, enjoying his strangled sound.
“Yeah,” Jaskier slurred as Geralt finally bottomed out, sounding drunk with pleasure, shivering violently as he clenched around Geralt’s cock. “Whatever you want, as long ... as long as you want.” 
Geralt doubted this. Jaskier seemed the type to whine about oversensitivity after his first spill, but he still couldn’t bring himself to deny Jaskier his pleasure, to deny Jaskier anything, really, when he was in this state. 
He fucked Jaskier with smooth, shallow thrusts which made him arch and wail, his fingers clawing at the bark of the tree and his knees trembling as he tried to brace himself to rock back against Geralt’s length. 
It only took a few more thrusts before Jaskier came with a sob, his body seizing greedily as he fucked into his own fist. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s tremors up the entire front of his body, clasped him tight and began fucking into him greedily, chasing his own pleasure from Jaskier’s limp body. When Geralt finally came, he sank his teeth in Jaskier’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood.
There was finally silence in the glen as they both panted for breath. 
“Fuck,” Geralt grunted, pulling from Jaskier’s ass in a long, slick slide, watching his spend drip from Jaskier’s swollen entrance. It was a sight that made his cock twitch in hopes of another round, but the orgasm had cleared Geralt’s head of its immediate fog. 
And with that, came the first tendrils of regret. 
“Hey,” Jaskier said hoarsely, interrupting Geralt before he could sink too far into his own dark thoughts. “You don’t think we’re done, are you?” 
“Hmm,” Geralt’s eyebrows raised as Jaskier turned and stripped his braies the rest of the way off his legs, stumbling coltishly before shooting out a hand to stabilize himself against the tree.
“You’re still awake, I’m still-” Jaskier stumbled forward and Geralt caught him, allowing Jaskier to push him down onto a soft patch of grass and absorbing the landing with a grunt. 
“Broken-hearted?” Geralt asked, his mouth going dry as Jaskier straddled his hips and stripped his tunic over his head.
“Like you have no idea,” Jaskier said, a strange expression passing over his face before he bent down and kissed Geralt again. 
(now on ao3!)
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dabisqueen · 11 months ago
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Suck It Up
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Shigaraki x Reader
⇢ rating: 18+
⇢ word count: roughly 1.5K
⇢ plot: coming back from a mission, you forgot to report to your boss. He didn't take it all that well.
⇢ warnings: 18+, smut, noncon, nipple play, nipple orgasm, vaginal sex, vaginal orgasm, creampie, threatening of quirk use, aged up characters
⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!
---------------------------------
I came back to the League's Headquarters sweaty and dirty in dire need of a shower. I stripped off my clothes and stepped underneath the shower. I felt specially aroused, being that time of the month, my ovaries close to exploding, my breasts sensitive and tender. I loved the way the warm water caressed my skin, enjoying the tingling feeling between my legs. I slipped a hand down my thighs, sliding over my sensitive nub as I rested my back against the cold tiles, a welcoming cooling for my overheated body. Rubbing my clit and teasing my nipples it didn't take long for me to cum.
Feeling elated, I dried myself off, slipping into an oversized white button up shirt. It hung just above my knee and I almost disappeared in it. But it was the most comfortable thing I owned and I loved wearing it. The cottony fabric felt good against my soft skin, rubbing against my nipples, perking them up. I went about tidying my room when suddenly the door opened and Shigaraki barged in.
“Hey brat, never reported to me on-," he stopped mid sentence, seeing me standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. My wet hair hung in disheveled strands around my face, water dripping off them, making my shirt transparent and cling to my skin.
His messy pale tufts covered most of his face and I could only make out his glowing red eyes staring at me.
"Boss, m'sorry, forgot." I mumbled, my cheeks flushing, my breasts still erect from the heightened arousal.
His gaze raked my half covered body, fixing on my hard nubs, his eyes a rapturous look in them. His tongue darted out and snaked over his cracked lips.
He snarled, "I don't like disobedience, especially not slacking off,“ and took a step towards me.
I fumbled for words as he approached me further. My cheeks were ablaze by now, my body reacting on it's own as I felt a familiar heat starting to kindle inside my core.
He noticed my reaction and his lips curled up into a smirk, stepping right in front of me, only inches away. I gasped, never being so close, so personal to him. My breath hitched as he leaned in, smelling him, damp dust and linen.
"I can think of a way to make it up to me," his voice just a rasp.
Blood was rushing into my core now, as I stumbled back until the back of my legs hit the bed.
"Lay down," his hoarse voice demanding at me.
"Boss-“ I pleaded but he tutted quietly at me "You know what I do to someone pissing me off,“ and he wiggled his fingers in demonstration. I winced and turned around, crawling to the middle of the bed, laying down on my back, hair framing my face nestled into the pillow, hands balled into fists.
He stepped next to the bed, climbed over me and sat down on my legs, straddling me, knees to each side of my hips.
He smirked and rasped “Open," gesturing at my shirt. I struggled beneath him, but, realizing I was impaled by him, I hesitantly started to undo my shirt, button after button. As I reached the bottom he took each hem with two fingers and pulled them to the side, exposing myself to him. My breath hitched as the cold air hit my naked skin, making my erect nipples bud up even harder.
"Boss-" I winced but he cut me off with a hand gesture.
He started stroking my belly, and then up around and in between my breasts. He circled them with large strokes of his calloused hand, giving my breasts a little squeeze, before dipping his face down to hover over them. His breath was hot against my skin, stimulating my already rattled nerves. His fingertips caught my nipple, rolling it lightly between two fingers and as that nub puckered and stiffened even more, he moved on to the other.
I couldn't help but mewl below him, an unfamiliar feeling arising in my breasts, not being used to such attention. His tongue darted out, the flat of it sliding over my skin, drawing little soft whimpers from me. He drew my hardened nipple into his warm mouth, latching around it, licking it, tracing little circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.
Jolts of pleasure ran through my body, building up an unknown heat each time. I arched my back, moaning as he kept sucking relentlessly,
"You're really sensitive," he rasped, cracked dry lips contorted into a slim smirk, brushing them over my erect nubs. I could only answer with an incomprehensible gargle. When he bit down on my nub, just enough to hurt but not to lacerate my sensitive skin, my mouth fell open, a heated moan shooting up my throat and my eyes rolled back with pleasure. He kept groping my breast, twisting its nub, letting off throaty grunts as he kept biting into the other, setting off fireworks throughout my body. It was enough stimulation for the coil inside me to wind tighter, my overstimulated nipples continuing to shoot off sparks down to my core.
A low raspy hum vibrated through his body, my breasts and my body as he kept mouthing, licking me. I managed to let out "Oh my god," and he pulled back, letting out a throaty giggle, seeing me fully delirious below him. He bent down again and continued.
I was pushed to my limit, hesitant to let go, a fire spreading throughout my whole body as the pleasure built slowly and gradually. And then, without a warning, it exploded out of nowhere. Waves of orgasmic pleasure rippled through my body and I let out a high pitched screech. My back arched, and my hips bucked below him while he let out short raspy groans, still sucking on my tits, drawing continuous moans from me.
I was slowly coming down from my high, tears pegging my eyes, a sight that had him snicker with a glint in his eyes "That sensitive, huh?" followed by a throaty chuckle.
I lay below him, unable to move, my whole body still tingling with pleasure. He scooted off, just far enough to pull my legs apart and positioned himself between them. Still trying to catch my breath I heard the rustle of fabric and looked up with opium blown eyes.
He kneeled between my legs, sweats pulled down. Stroking his freed distinct cock, he positioned himself at my wet entrance and slowly slid in.
I threw my head back, biting my lips, trying to hold back tears. I let out little huffs of breath as I tried to accommodate his size, while he pressed forward, inch by inch, until he was fully buried deep inside me, his pale tufts kissing my sensitive button.
I gasped, the feeling of being impaled on him too intense. My body was set on fire, every nerve in overdrive, I felt so full I could hardly breathe. He looked down at the belly bulge and muttered so tight, eyes glowing with unquenchable desire.
He slowly pulled back and my mind exploded right away, the ridge of his head rubbing along my sensitive walls, sending sparks flying through my body.
"Oh god, this- ahhh," it was too much for me. Once almost out, he pushed back in with a strong thrust, having me keen out loud. I clawed into the sheets, gasping, moaning as he started to thrust into me, still staring at my flat belly being stretched and filled with each rut, sucking in shallow excited breaths.
"This is fucking hot," he rasped, slightly breathless, a little drop of sweat running down his cheek.
Dissociated and overwhelmed by the pleasure rolling through me, every nerve was on fire as each of his ruts had me hurling towards an unknown edge. He increased the speed, pounding into me now, grabbing my hips, pinkies raised as he also started to get lost in the sensation. Sounds of our sexes combined, heated noises of pleasure filled the air while we both neared our highs with each jerk of his hips.
My vision went blurry, my mouth open, continuous moans falling from it and I felt a powerful climax nearing. With a particularly strong rut all my restraints snapped like a twig, waves of pleasure rolling over me and I came. Trembling and moaning, I clawed at the sheets, yelling whatever words first came to my mind in a jumbled mess, my insides twitching and contracting around him.
After a few more rut, fervently burrowing his face in my neck, he spilled his milky seed deep into my cunt, dribbling out around his length, leaving a mess on the patch of white curls at the base of his dick.
He convulsed on top of me, sweaty skin sticking to each other as we both rested, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he pulled out and closed his pants back up. My mind still fogged, I hardly noticed him getting up and moving towards the door, opening it.
Just as I heard the click of it closing behind him I was coming to enough to remember something important. My eyes shot open, hands darted down to my cum soaked folds between my thighs.
"Shit."
----------------------------
Masterlist
@sage-malf0y @scruffymctee @undefined--person @diamond-3 @vixxen-chan @tirzamisu @supermegapauselouca
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cupids-crystals · 9 months ago
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Salt Water Taffy (R.L.)
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Word Count: 0.4k
Summary: Spending a serene day at the beach with Remus
Notes: Something short and sweet to remedy my writer’s block. No warnings, no reader pronouns.
The current was high, waves crashing animatedly in the background as the two of you walked hand in hand down the rocky shore. The stones underfoot were smooth from a lifetime of saltwater abrasion, and you wondered how long it would be before they were worn down completely. 
Maybe you’d stay and watch their slow decay, keeping track of time by the swelling moon and the renewing pull of the tide. 
Remus was rambling on about something or other, matching your leisure pace and occasionally meeting your fleeting gaze with his own tranquil glances. His lips were just slightly chapped, like he’d spent the morning kissing the fresh salt breeze. You’d thought that the roughness would be something harrowing, but you’d grown to enjoy the familiar intensity.
Your attention was divided between thoughts of Remus and the idyllic scenery, a combination that was surely the work of some divine being. 
The sky was grey – a type of overcast that brought thick fog and a chill that crept into your bones. Wrapped in a wool overcoat, you were left exposed to the wind whipping against your nose and cheeks, teeth slightly chattering from the harsh air.
Even still, you were content.
“What’re you thinking about?” Remus questioned, noticing the distraction written over your features. 
“You. And the beach. And the clouds.” 
He hummed at your confession, eyes meeting the ground as he nudged a rock out of its place with the tip of his shoe.
A beat of silence was shared, interrupted only by the breaking waves and the beach’s remaining birds complaining about the weather. The two of you had always appreciated the stillness of shared thought, like you were holding a conversation without words. 
“I think I’d like to build a house there,” you spoke, gesturing down the shoreline to a ridge that overlooked the sea. 
“It’d be lonely and beautiful, and we could start every day with a walk along the shore.”
“Think we’d have to buy thicker coats,” Remus quipped, leaning over to touch his cold nose to your cheek. 
You nodded in agreement, giggling as Remus moved to press a kiss to your lips. He tasted like saltwater taffy, the strawberry kind that came in paper wrappers and stuck to your teeth. 
Remus made a point to indulge in the sweet treat with every trip to the beach, no matter the weather or the reason for visiting. ‘It’s a tradition’ he’d said once, comparing it to finding seashells or dipping your toes in the water. ‘It’s how I show my regard’.
Eventually, he pulled away, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands rested under your coat, relieved to find temporary shelter from the weather. You leaned into his embrace, deciding that it would be alright if he consumed you entirely.
“Would you like to live by the sea?” you asked, imaging the details of your coastal life.
“Anywhere,” he answered decidedly. “As long as we’re together.”
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eggedbellies · 10 months ago
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The Decoration - Part One
Wordcount: 1,469
Kinks: Inflation, being tied up, oviposition, impregnation (kind of?? It's hard to explain)
Synopsis: In a future where special drugs can allow temporary bodily changes, live entertainment takes on a whole new meaning. The money is good, so you allow yourself to become something entirely new - a living fishbowl.
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I don't remember when it had really become all the rage. I wasn't exactly in the higher echleons of society. Technology had advanced so quickly, our understanding of biology. Kink clubs took great advantage of it, of course. Exorbitant fees, astronimical costs for an evening of entertainment. And then that slowly became political power, positioning. After all, you had to have the latest gear, the fanciest tech, the best food and drink and shows if you were going to achieve political power in this world.
The job came up. My ... particular set of enjoyments, my performances at a nearby club, earmarked me for the position. It was all a little experimental but with that much cash waved under my nose ... I couldn't say no. So here I was, standing, naked and a little unsure, shivering in the cool room. I wasn't sure what to expect when the door opened and in stepped two men I didn't know. I had to admit, one of them was attractive; young, fit, with dark cropped hair and deep eyes and a slight grin. The other one I recognised as some smarmy politican, and I really didn't like his expression, but - think of the money.
"Hello, I'm James. You spoke to me on the phone." said the better looking one, and I recognised his voice, nodding and propping a polite smile on my lips. "So, I don't know how much you were told about this?" before I can explain, he seemed to read my features. "Don't worry; it's not dangerous! It's all been tested before. Just, uh, not for this amount of time but all the tests have gone well and we wouldn't risk it if we weren't sure it would be fine." he glanced sideways at the politician, talking through some of his various politics and already I was bored. I wanted to get to the interesting stuff and get the night over.
"You signed the paperwork, right?" he asked. I nodded. I had agreed to be allowed to do - well - they could do whatever they wanted to me, unless I hit the exit button. Of course, doing so would surrender my money. "Do you want us to surprise you?" he said, finally. "You can be blindfolded, or you can watch. Which would you prefer?"
"I want to see." I said, automatically. Admittedly, I was a little curious. About what they would do to my body. I remember the first experimental treatment I tried, swelling me with false eggs. I remembered how it had ended during my dance, instead of it's three hour time; how the crowds had thrown money on the stage as each artificial egg crowned and how I had staggered away, changed, body still aching with the most money I had ever held in my life.
"Here." he handed me a small device, which hooked to my thumb. If I pressed it, I would be released automatically. And then he wound a ribbon around my shoulders, my wrists, knowing just where it would hold me taut and yet not hurt me. I figured I would be in this position for a while, as he lifted it and then draped me on a hook I hadn't seen above me. His hands adjusted it until I was pulled just up onto my tiptoes, and then his hands wandered. They stroked down my breasts, slowly, trembling with the stretch and the cold air in the room. Admittedly, being held so, unable to stop my slight waver, had already sent a tingle through me. He seemed to investigate every part of me, which sent more pleasure through my sensitive skin. I had taken the aphrodisiac, of course, to make this easier, but I still allowed myself the pleasure.
He wasted no time now, sliding against my fluffy mons, and then easing inside me. He didn't waste long with his fingers before shifting to a toy. It was textured and ridged and unlike any of even my own special stock. He worked it in and out of me, stretching me slowly, and despite myself I began to moan lowly. It was easier to forget about the ugly eyes of the leering man in the background as each ridge pressed and pushed and despite my control I found myself moaning, trembling, and then clenching as I came. The toy pushed deep, settling inside me, swelling strangely at the base. I knew I wouldn't be able to remove it without help, even without my hands tied. It felt good, though, squeezing it inside me. Surely they didn't want to just put a toy in me?
"You took all the medication you were given, yes?" he asked, and I thought through the fog. Yes. Four little pills. "All four." I replied, a little breathlessly. It had seemed an odd amount, but I hadn't questioned it. Part of the job. "Good. Excellent. They should have had plenty of time to work. If this hurts - press the button." then he grinned, and I felt a little chill. He picked something out of a chest I hadn't noticed next to me, and held it to the light. It looked like a strange cylinder, maybe an inch around, almost like what I imagined a radioactive rod might look like. And then he pushed it down and slipped it into a hidden slot in the centre of the toy inside me. Strangely, I didn't feel any change in the toy; but after a few unsure breaths, there was a low hissing noise and then - pressure. It began slowly, a pushing, like someone cumming, pulsing inside me.
"Oh." I gasped. At first cold, and then warming to my body temperature, something was flooding me. Whether it was the special toy or the drugs I'd taken, it wasn't coming back out. No. I could feel a strange - pressure, and then a release, and I could tell it was bubbling inside me. I had taken other drugs and treats like this to swell me out before. It was a pleasure of mine, in fact, to feel the swell, and the ache, as the special chemicals in my body let my womb and skin elasticate safely. It felt good, too. But this, the weight, the inexorable pressure starting to tug me down on the ribbon, felt unlike anything I had felt before. It was - liquid. And then when I looked down, I couldn't believe it. My skin was fading from it's usual tones, getting more and more translucent. I couldn't see veins, not in the way of a heavy pregnancy, but my skin shifted like glass. I expected to see strange organs inside, the horrific image as if I'd been dissected, but no. Maybe it was just how the fade settled under my ribs, or my own angle, but there was nothing grotesque.
My body had become a perfectly round fishbowl. My skin ached, but pleasantly, like stretching a sore muscle. My pussy contracted in pleasure just from the sight, and then James ran his hand along my skin. My head threw back and I cried out as pleasure electrified across me. My toes curled, almost making me swing on the ribbon. I came to white lights behind my eyes, panting.
"Phenomenal." said the rougher voice, but I could barely register it. James rummaged around, removing the spent water-pod from inside me. When I could think again, I opened my eyes, seeing two grins bearing back at me.
"Is - that it?" I asked, swallowing hard. "Oh, no." James grinned dangerously. "We have a few more for you." he held up two more tubes, filled with what looked like Orbeez. I swallowed hard, and then nodded. The first, the larger, slid inside and released with the same hiss. Then they released in me like boba in a straw. I jolted, unable to help it, wriggling on the ribbon as they swirled, twitched, and then began to hatch, growing rapidly. A swarm of multicolour fish came into life inside of me, fins swirling, shifting. With each bat of their fins the delicate ripples of water moved, and the pressure made my body sing. Not enough to cum, not now. Breathing slowly, legs shaking, I watched their dance inside me, knowing it would only intensify. The second tube, more of the first, only smaller. A swarm of tiny tetras, their grouping brushing the inside of my skin and making me squirm. James rubbed my belly again to send me over the dripping edge, and then the politican did the same, fascinated. I let my head swim.
"Perfect. I think she's ready." he said, and James nodded, before carefully gagging me. His last job was to slide a silk blindfold over my eyes, and then I was taken - still on my hook - ready to be a decoration in his political game.
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megumiluvr · a year ago
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“i like my women quiet, and now i think you’ll do nicely.”
make it fit — naoya zenin.
warnings:
misogyny, a lot of it. T__T. naoya is really mean, dubcon/noncon(?), choking, size kink, dacryphilia, drool (it’s all just gross), degradation, praise but you can see the ulterior motive behind it, dumbification, one mention of a corpse.
word count: 854.
notes: i am... back from the dead?!? with this really gross awful unproofread misogynist naoya drabble. i have to credit @sukirichi, i’ve been reading a lot of your naoya stuff recently and it was so good that i somehow awoke from my 8 month writing coma to bang out this mini monstrosity. thanks for the inspo!!! <3 p.s. reader has female anatomy and gets called ‘good girl’ !
“you’re such a fucking crybaby,” he hisses, hips rolling into yours without regard for your comfort, forcing in what wouldn’t fit when he tried caring about your tears. “it took me so fucking long to get into your panties, i took you on so many— so many shitty dates, and let you talk about your boring self as if i was interested.” his voice is seething, the panties in question currently stuffed between your lips, muffling your sobs and resulting in a collection of drool from the sides of your mouth. his movements are animalistic, and you think about how stupid you were to believe he could actually care for you.
“and once i do manage to get you into bed,” he continues, a growl in his tone accompanying a particularly harsh thrust, “you won’t even let me fuck you. i tried to be nice, stretch you out a little, play with your stupid little cunt to shut you up for just a minute, but no—“ his voice suddenly becomes girlish and mocking, evidently an attempt to humiliate you further: “‘i can’t, i can’t— it hurts, stop—‘, such a fucking baby.”
he returns to his usual pitch to spit the insult right at your face, which is already streaked with tears, your cheeks hot and covered in smudged makeup- (you think back to getting yourself dolled up for the date, eager to see him again. he’s nothing like other guys, you’re sure! he’s so polite and charming, not at all like the sleazebags who usually try and chat you up. it’ll be different this time, you reason. you witness your vision tinge with black and feel his hand tighten around your throat, and realise how wrong you were.)
his grip releases your limp wrists- you’re fucked too dumb to try and push him off any more- and reaches for your chest, flicking a pert nipple with a harsh finger.
“fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering for just a second before he pulls out, flipping your ragdoll-like body over and slipping in again, “you’re so wet... are you sure you weren’t pretending about it hurting, sweetheart?” his tone has turned condescending, and you hate how the nickname he’d used on your first meeting can still affect you. your answer never comes, evidently, and he chuckles darkly as he pushes your head down into the mattress by the back of your neck.
“god, you’re so much prettier when you keep your mouth shut, baby. no more— yapping, and rambling about your interests that i don’t care about, you’re so perfect like this. my personal fucktoy, huh? aren’t you my good toy now?”
it’s cruel, and he knows you can’t reply, so he yanks your head up by your hair, the sting causing you to cry out, and makes you nod for him.
“that’s right, baby. you don’t need to talk. i like my women quiet, and i think now you’ll do nicely.”
he lets your head fall to the bed again, your cheek smushed against the sheets as he pauses the pounding of his hips to reach for your face, grabbing the fat of your flushed cheeks and pulling the now soaked panties out from between your swollen lips.
“i’m sure you’ll know better than to take this as permission to speak, darling.”
words race through your thoughts, comprising contempt and indignance along with pleas- you try to say “please don’t stop”, “it feels so good” and the like, but it all comes out as slurred syllables; he fucks you so good to the point that you’ve lost the articulateness that you’re always so proud of.
“you good, honey?” he gazes at your face, and the way your tongue is lolling out of your mouth, drooling. “oh, you’re so gross.” the sentence is said with an obvious grin, the bastard’s proud of his handiwork. “but you know i love it.” his strong hand lets go of your face, instead moving to uncharacteristically gently move your hair from your face where it’s stuck to the mix of saliva and tears- the juxtaposition reminds you again of how you’d truly thought that he’d cared.
his hips are pistoning again, slower this time; you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against your velvet walls. a tap to your temple brings you out of your stupor- you’re mindless, you’re a mess, it’s humiliating, but he smiles down at you. “you still in there?” he taps again at your forehead and your eyes slide closed. “hey, hey. look at me. i don’t wanna fuck a corpse, you won’t squeeze me as good then.”
his remark somehow makes it through the fog in your brain and you blink up at him, chin crumpling and lips pouting in displeasure. “there y’are, baby. just wanted to make sure you’re still kicking.” the corner of his lip quirks up into a half-smile as his face comes close to yours, kissing the pout that’s formed there. he’s speeding up again and your eyes roll back into your head.
“there y’go. that’s my good girl. there’s still so much fun i’m gonna have with you.”
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submissivekillers · a year ago
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God that pegging ask with brahms 👌👌👌👌👌the voice cracking👌👌👌👌👌 could you write some more bottom brahms? Pegging or not its up to you, anything you write is amazing!
like what i do? buy me a kofi!
comfort and cockwarming! tw for self-harm and dissociation in this one. the self-harm is only described (and not in much detail) in paragraph three and can be skipped without really affecting the rest of the piece, but please approach with caution and don’t read if it could distress you! 
length: 2.2k
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The bathroom echoes with the soft splashing of water, drowning out the distant sound of the record playing in the bedroom - Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet.” It’s not your favorite of the Heelshire’s extensive record collection (which you’ve slowly begun modernizing, though Brahms still pouts whenever you try to break away from the classics), but it’s what Brahms requested, and you’re not about to reject him. Not now. Not when he’s like this. 
The man himself kneels before you in the bathtub, lanky frame stretching out of the water so he can wrap his arms around your hips as you rub shampoo through his dark curls. With his cheek pressed to your thigh. you can feel every ridge and dip of long-healed scar tissue again your own soft flesh, the gentle puff of his breaths sending goosebumps prickling over your legs. 
His hands rest limply on your back, the layers of clean white linen you’d wrapped them in a little scratchy against your skin. It had taken over an hour for you to calm him down enough to clean his wounds last night; you don’t know how long he was scratching the backs of his hands, but it was long enough that they were striped with vivid welts, the delicate skin split and weeping blood. The shirt you’d been wearing was marked with two perfect handprints on the shoulders, marking the place where he’d first grabbed you - he’d held you so tightly you’d practically heard your bones creak, trying to convince himself you were really there.
You hum along to the strings that drift through the open door as you pour lukewarm water over Brahms’ hair, tilting his chin up to keep it from getting in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react at all, really; you think he might lean into your touch, but that could just be your wishful thinking. 
 "Brahms?" You say gently, just barely above a whisper. Dark green eyes blink open, but only fix on you for a moment before they slide away, staring into the distance blankly; he's still somewhere else, far away from you. "The water's getting cold. Will you come to bed with me?" 
He nods faintly, moving at a slow, dreamlike pace as he lets you rise from your perch on the edge of the tub, stands for you when you gently take his bandaged hands and tug. You hate seeing him like this. The worst of his tantrums is preferable to the shadow of a man that stands before you - docile and quiet. Close to broken.
You dry him methodically, letting your hands glide over his soft skin, hoping the warmth of your touch penetrates through the fog he's lost in. When you kneel to clean the moisture from his legs you see he's half-hard already, his breath quickening when the towel ghosts over his thighs. You say nothing and keep your hands to yourself, getting back to your feet so you can drape Brahms' sweater over his hunched shoulders.
The record's playing air by the time you lead him back to the bedroom, and Brahms shakes his head when you offer to flip it to the next side, falling to the bed and curling up over the covers in just his cardigan. You dim the lights and climb in behind him, and immediately he turns, burying his face in your chest. He sighs, a shaky exhale, and goes boneless with the sound, muscles unwinding as you hook a leg over his hip and wrap your arms around his back. 
You lie together in silence for a while, your fingers petting through his soft curls, occasionally scratching your nails over his scalp to draw a content hum from his throat. His breathing is calm, even, and you almost think he's fallen asleep. 
Until suddenly it isn't, and your only warning is a sharp inhale before he's sobbing into your chest, hands fisted in your t-shirt. 
"Hey, hey," you coo, curling yourself around him. He weeps wretchedly, rough, coughing sobs like something in him has been wrenched out of place. "I got you, I'm here." 
"I thought you weren't coming back," he wails, words leaving his mouth in a jumbled rush. "I thought you left me!"
"Never," you say firmly, scattering kisses over his temples, into his sweet-smelling hair. "I'm never going to leave you alone, okay Brahms? I'll always come back to you. Always." 
He cries for a long time, long enough for the sun to dip below the horizon, leaving the room lit only by the dim, warm light of a desk lamp. Your shirt is soaked, sticky with tears and - no point in sugarcoating it - snot, but you hold him close until he's through, whispering words of love and stroking soothingly up and down his spine until his tears have dried and his breath evens out, the occasional hitch and sniffle the only remainder of his fit of emotion. 
Eventually, he lifts his head from your chest, bleary-eyed and flushed. Tear tracks shine dimly in the glow of the lamp, and when you lean down to kiss his cheek you taste salt on your lips. 
"Hello, my love," you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. "How do you feel?"
"My eyes hurt," he sniffs. "And my face is sticky." 
"Mm, hold on." You wriggle out of his grip - only enough for you to reach the bedside table, but he makes a complaining noise anyway, tugging at your shirt - and grab a handful of tissues, gently dabbing at his eyes. He leans into your touch with a soft, pleased little sound, kissing your fingertips when they skirt over his lips.
His eyes are still bloodshot and swollen, but they focus on you now - no longer staring vaguely into the middle distance. He sees you, rising up on his elbows and staring down at your open expression, your warm, bright eyes. 
And as you look back, you recognize the familiar hunger that starts to fill his gaze. 
He drops his weight on you abruptly, the air rushing from your lungs as his lanky frame covers you. "Brahms," you gasp through his kisses, your words stuttering into a gasp when he dips to trace his tongue along your jaw. "Are you sure?" 
"Want you," he huffs, impatient hands wandering under the hem of your shirt. "Need you inside me. Need you to make me stop thinking." 
You wriggle out of his grasp once again (once again, he complains) and dangle over the edge of the bed, searching under the bed until your fingertips find the box you need. Brahms helps you sit up, eagerly tearing the lid off the box and dumping the contents out onto the covers - strap-on, harness, lube, the little vibrator you've held against his cock until he shrieked himself hoarse. Impatient hands help you into the harness, and he's eager to climb over you once it's in its proper place, only stopped from impaling himself by your firm grip on his hips.
"Brahms, need to prep you," you remind him, holding back a laugh at his restlessness. 
He strains against your hands, pouting at you. "I can take it."
"Brahms." Your firm tone brooks no argument and he sighs brattily, letting you push him back to the bed and spread his legs. 
He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to sulk, but you don't miss the shiver that runs through him at the pop of the bottle opening. "Open your mouth for me, Brahms," you order, climbing over him. He opens, a soft moan bubbling in his throat as you hook your fingers into his mouth, pressing down on the pad of his tongue. "Good boy. Suck for me while I finger you, it'll be done before you know it."  
You slide a finger in, then another, scissoring your fingers inside him until you find his prostate. He whimpers around your fingers, broad chest heaving as you fingerfuck his throat and his hole. It's a gorgeous sight, and you're happy to let him know, making him whine around your fingers as you keep up a steady stream of compliments in his ear. 
When he's ready, you slip your fingers free and tug him into your lap, one hand gripping his hip as he struggles to rock against you. You take the base of the strap in your fist, lining it up with his slick hole. "Ready?" 
"Please," Brahms begs, clinging to you like you're the only thing solid in the world. 
Carefully, you start to pull him onto your cock. Brahms pants in your ear and claws at your back, whining impatiently every time you slow down to check in on him. When he's fully seated in your lap, your strap pressed inside him to the root, he lets out a long, shuddery moan, voice cracking up into his higher register for a moment after you shift his weight in your lap. 
"Okay?" You breathe, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. 
"Mm," he sighs, eyes screwed shut as he adjusts, relishing the feeling of you inside him. "Perfect." 
"Want me to move?" 
He shakes his head, quickly leaning in to peck your lips. "Don't want to move. But could you... touch me? Please?" 
His fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding your hand between his trembling thighs. 
Well. How could you turn down such a polite request? 
You kiss him slowly, sliding a hand into his soft curls. Brahms rests his hands on your shoulders, sighing contentedly into your mouth - and then you're swallowing his moan as your fingers finally wrap around his cock, so slick with precum that it only takes one firm pump to coat your palm.
He squirms in your lap as you fall into a steady rhythm, hips rocking against your cock. Little moans tip from his lips, his hands trembling as they hold your shoulders. You kiss the shell of his ear, gently teasing, "Thought you said you didn't want to move?"
 "Can't help it," he pants. "Need to feel you inside me. Always need you." 
"You have me," you promise him. "Always. There's nothing in the world that could keep me away from you." 
His grip on your shoulders grows bruising, nails digging into your back. Rage flickers over his face, contorting his expression - scar tissue twists and pulls tight, flushed with blood. "I'll kill anyone that tries!" 
"I know," you say calmly, the rhythm of your hand unchanged by the violence in his voice. "I'm yours, Brahms. I belong to you and you belong to me." 
The fit of anger fades as quickly as it came, replaced with sudden insecurity. "Is this good for you? Brahms asks pleadingly, clutching you like a lifeline. "Am I—am I good?" 
"So good," you rasp, your hand around his dick squeezing gently to watch his dark lashes flutter. "I love seeing you like this, you know? You're so handsome. You take my cock so well." 
"Good. G-Good," he stutters, voice breaking high-and-low, whimpers welling in his throat as your hand speeds up the pace. "Please—I think...I'm going to—" 
"Come for me, Brahms," you breathe in his ear, twisting your wrist. "I love you. I'm here. Come."
—And he does, with a long, sobbing moan, cum pumping thick and hot over your fingers. 
He comes down slowly, hiding his face in the curve of your shoulder. A sudden tension fills him, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. You have to focus to understand his muffled plea against your skin. “Mask? Please.” 
“Of course, baby.” You snatch his mask from the covers and hold it to him, politely averting your eyes as he fumbles to fasten it over his face. It doesn't necessarily matter - you've been staring at his scars all evening, after all - but you know it makes him feel better; he lets out a relieved sigh once the cool porcelain is strapped in place, relaxing into your arms once again. "Do you feel better?" 
"Mm-hm," he sighs, slightly muffled by the mask. "A little hungry." 
You risk a glance at the clock - 8:21. You've missed dinner. "I can make us sandwiches. Does that sound good?" 
Brahms nods against the hollow of your throat. "Yes. But stay here like this a little while longer, please." 
"Alright. Whatever you want," you say.
You draw meaningless designs over his back with your fingertips as you cradle him in his lap, careful not to shift too much and disturb the strap still hilted inside him. He lifts a hand to his mouth, a jaw-cracking yawn echoing behind the porcelain; you can't help but trace the white bandage with your eyes, jaw drawing tight. 
"I know it wasn't your fault," Brahms murmurs, tucking himself into your neck. "The tree was down, you said. You couldn't help it." 
"I know," you sigh. "But still. I never want to make you worry like that."
He hums absentmindedly, tapping his fingers on your skin. "Maybe next time there's something in the village"—you perk up a little despite yourself, wondering if he's finally ready to accompany you out of the grounds—"You could ask Malcolm to pick it up?" 
Ah. You probably should've expected that. 
"I could," you say agreeably, petting through his soft curls. "I don't think he'd mind." 
He makes a contented sound, cool porcelain kissing your throat.
Oh well. One step forward, two steps back. That's fine, really - you never expected that this would be easy. It doesn’t change a thing.
You're his, now and forever. 
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geopsych · 5 months ago
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Sunlight just starting to glow through the fog on hills along the ridge.
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fruitcoops · 8 months ago
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when you get a chance, remus picking a place to have seggs, that is semi public with humor, because your humor with seggs is the best
<3
Thanks, I'm glad people were so excited about the sequel to this smut fic! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, of course <3
TW for semi-public smut, being walked in on (nobody sees the explicit stuff)
Remus groaned into Sirius’ neck as the fingers on his hips dug in, sending a zap of pleasure through the general haze of horniness fogging his vision. He pressed forward even harder—their chests bumped together and he could already feel the hard line of Sirius through two layers of denim against his thigh. Music pounded so loud around them that he could hardly hear a thing, but Sirius’ labored breathing audibly grew harsher and he smoothed his broad hands down to grab two handfuls of Remus’ ass.
“Home?” he asked, voice low and husky already. Remus lived for that sound, lived for the times he could rile Sirius up until the bright flashing lights and the dance floor shaking under their feet didn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t like they were the only ones grinding up against each other, either.
A yes hung on the tip of Remus’ tongue before melting into something much, much better. “No,” he answered, nuzzling the hinge of Sirius’ jaw. “No, I want to cash in my prize.”
“Your p—” Sirius faltered, then stopped rubbing up on him to meet his gaze in utter shock. “Here?”
Remus quirked an eyebrow, then glanced over at the sign for the men’s bathroom. Sirius still looked confused, so he did it again with a tug to his belt loop. “Five gold stars, baby.”
Sirius blinked at him. “Re, it’s fucking disgusting in there.”
Remus kept one hand in his waistband, but slid the other down to press gently over the bulge in his pants. “I was such a good boy for you,” he hummed. “And I thought you said I could pick.”
Someone sweaty bumped into his back, knocking them closer together—Sirius hissed through his teeth as the pressure on the outline of his dick increased. Some of the initial hesitance in his expression vanished and his pupils blew wide. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this at home?”
“Positive.”
“Lube?”
“Wallet.”
Sirius licked his lips, then narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re not allowed to be louder than usual. Someone could possibly hear you getting your reward, ouais? Not a definite event.”
Remus felt himself throb in his tight pants and grinned. “Deal.”
Sirius started to lead him toward the bathroom, then rocked back and lowered his voice again. “And I need to wash my hands first.”
“Please do,” Remus laughed, linking their fingers to drag him through the thumping mass of people into the bathroom. It was poorly-lit and, as Sirius eloquently described, pretty fucking disgusting, but the smell wasn’t that bad and as long as only their shoes touched the floor it really didn’t matter. The first stall was marked off with an ‘out of order sign’ and the third was decidedly in the worst condition, but the second…
Remus felt a thrill spike in his stomach and he took Sirius by the elbow as he dried his freshly-washed hands on the sides of his pants. “Here,” he said before crashing their lips together and walking him backward into the stall. The door closed behind them with a creak—miracle of miracles, the lock was functional.
Sirius’ hands wove through his hair and he moaned into his mouth, slipping both hands up the front of his shirt to feel the familiar ridges of muscle. “Exhibitionist,” Sirius breathed.
“Not quite.” Remus trailed his fingers down to the front of Sirius’ pants, popping the button and zipper with little trouble. In truth, the zipper practically dropped on its own with how hard he was under it. “It’s the thought that counts.”
The stainless-steel door covered in Sharpie graffiti clanged as Sirius crowded him up against it and scraped his teeth along Remus’ lower lip; Remus hardly registered where his hands had gone before his pants were around his knees and Sirius was pawing at his thighs. “Nobody else could talk me into this,” Sirius panted, grinning. “You’re too creative, mon loup. Wallet?”
“Back pocket.”
“Fuck,” Sirius muttered as he crouched slightly. Remus let his head fall back against the door, already breathless and so hard it almost hurt; not two seconds later, he felt a wet warmth on his shaft through the fabric of his boxers and let his mouth go slack. A whine slipped out at the press of Sirius’ tongue and the brush of fingertips just beneath the back of his knee, but the sensation was gone mere moments later and Sirius was kissing him once again.
I could spend my whole life doing this, Remus thought a little deliriously. A package crinkled near his ear and he pulled back with monumental effort, shuffling around to give Sirius enough space to drop his own pants and face the door. His pulse picked up as he braced his hands on the cold metal door and leaned forward so he could arch his back a bit—Sirius’ hand came to rest on his lower back and he shivered.
“Shirts on?” Sirius asked, sliding his mouth over the outline of Remus’ shoulder blade.
“Nowhere else to put ‘em.” Remus rocked back until his ass bumped one of Sirius’ thighs. “C’mon, baby, what’re you waiting for?”
There wasn’t an ounce of tentative care in Sirius’ hands as he gripped Remus’ waist, then pulled his underwear down with a teasing snap of the elastic band and a pinch to one side that nearly made Remus’ knee buckle. His calluses moved in appreciative circles over the bare skin until he moved close enough that Remus could feel the heat of his body on his back. “Of all the places in the world, I didn’t think you’d be this bold,” Sirius said into the bend of his neck.
Remus swallowed a groan when a warm hand closed around the base of his shaft. “What was your first guess? My childhood bedroom?”
“PT room.”
“Ah. Fair, but boring.” He shot a smile over his shoulder. “Aren’t you tired of the same old scenery?”
Sirius muffled his laugh in Remus’ skin as his slippery fingers trailed down in a cold line. “When you’re on your knees? Never.”
Two digits circled the rim and Remus let out a shuddering breath that caught in his chest when the first began to press in. His face flamed hot when it reached the second knuckle—the sudden, sharp realization that they were in the public bathroom of a crowded bar-slash-club where there was no lock on the outer door hit him like a bolt of lightning and he felt Sirius’ moan as he tightened around him.
“Fuck, we’re really doing this,” Remus panted, one thigh trembling as Sirius found his prostate with deadly accuracy.
“Any time you want to back out and go back to our bed so nobody gets pinkeye, just say the word.”
“Holy shit—not a chance.” He licked his lips and spread his legs a little wider. “You’re really going to pass up this golden opportunity?”
Teeth grazed the shell of his ear. “You know I’d fuck you anywhere short of an open window, mon amour.”
A shiver raced down Remus’ spine as a second finger nudged in alongside the first, flexing until it reached the spot that made him press his forehead into the back of his hand with a soft noise. Sirius could pretend to be scandalized all he liked, but when it came down to it, Remus knew he got just as much of a kick out of it as he did. “A—and you call me an exhibitionist,” he said, closing his eyes when Sirius’ hand disappeared from around his cock and the rustle of fabric followed. “Got enough space?”
“Have to admit, it’s a bit of a tight fit,” Sirius laughed. Remus craned his neck back; the stall was barely big enough that Sirius didn’t have to straddle the toilet, but their close proximity wouldn’t exactly allow for a huge range of motion. It was a little comical, really. Sirius raised his eyebrows with the ghost of a smile when he caught Remus looking. “Ready?”
Remus bit his lower lip around a grin and pulled him in the by the collar of his shirt for a bruising kiss, sinking back into the planes of his body. “Fuck me so everyone knows when we leave this janky-ass stall that I’m y—”
The last word dissolved into an inhale as the slick head of Sirius’ dick began its steady press inward and his other hand splayed over Remus’ lower belly, where his abs jumped at the feeling. He turned back to the stall door and blew out a long breath, planting his feet on the floor and bending forward for a better angle. “Merde,” Sirius managed through clenched teeth as Remus held in his whine.
“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Remus mumbled. He bucked back to take the last inch and got a tight hand on the back of his neck for his troubles. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”
Heavy weight blanketed his back and he moaned into his bare forearm. “Could’ve told me before we came here. Would’ve fucked you at the house so everyone could see how nice and wrung-out you were.”
Remus let his head loll to the side so Sirius could work a love bite into the side of his throat. “Alcohol makes me horny. You know this—right there.”
Sirius circled his hips, building a rhythm of quick, deep thrusts to make the most of the little room they had. One arm remained a solid bar across Remus’ hips; the other moved down his spine with hard pressure before Sirius slid it up his shirt to rest over one pec. The metal of the door was beginning to warm under Remus’ hand and forearm at long last, and he didn’t even try to stop the small, punched-out sounds from slipping through his lips.
“What do we do if someone comes in?” Sirius asked as he slowed to stay buried deep inside. Remus exhaled hard through his nose and felt the palm teasing his shaft grow slicker with precome. “Not that you care, of course.”
“Want me to scream it?” he panted, pressing his fingertips into the hard steel in front of him like he always twisted the sheets at home. Sirius’ hand came up a moment later and grabbed his wrist, guiding him to hold onto the top of the door instead. The stretch sent a flurry of pleasure through every nerve and his heart skipped a beat. “Want me to tell every poor sap that walks in here I’m getting railed by—hnn—Captain Sirius Black?”
“You’re getting railed by your boyfriend,” Sirius corrected with a pointed thrust that made Remus’ ankles threaten to give out under him. “Which is infinitely more important for them to know.”
“You always get so possessive when we dance,” Remus laughed breathlessly.
“Because I can see them looking at your perfect ass.”
His fiery comeback died in his throat as the head of Sirius’ cock dragged over his prostate in an absolutely decadent movement—Remus’ elbow hit the door with a thud and a long moan he had been trying so hard to keep in echoed off the walls of the small bathroom as Sirius hoisted him back into his previous spot. “Do it again, do it again, do it again, please.”
Sirius whined into the back of his shoulder and put the hand not responsible for keeping Remus off the floor over his wrist, holding it flush to the door. The sound of their skin smacking together was music to Remus’ ears as he rested his head back against Sirius’ bicep, panting openmouthed at the bliss of it all.
“Huh—huh—uh—hard—” The pressure on his arm disappeared; Remus’ eyes flashed open when Sirius’ palm pressed down over his mouth without breaking pace.
“I love you so much but you’re so fucking loud like this,” Sirius huffed, hitching his hips up and drawing a choked whimper from some deep part of Remus. His knees wobbled more with each passing minute. His knuckles were white on the top of the door. He was so close he could taste it in the back of his mouth and hear it in the buzzing of his ears, the pounding of his blood, the shallowness of his breathing.
A sudden rush of sound filled the bathroom just as Sirius put his leg beneath Remus’ thigh to prop him up, changing their angle so he nailed his prostate on almost every thrust.
Remus could hear his own strangled moan even through the barrier of Sirius’ hand.
The door slammed shut.
They froze with Sirius still buried to the hilt.
“I’ll uh…” The squeak of someone’s sneakers shuffling bounced off the walls and Remus closed his eyes against the sting of frustration. Whoever had wandered in was quiet for a moment longer. “I’ll just—I’ll come back later?”
He could feel Sirius’ chest shaking with the effort of holding down laughter. The door to the bar opened again, closed again, and Remus lost it.
“We’re so fucked,” he gasped, tugging Sirius’ hand off his face through his snickering. “We’re so fucked, and I don’t even feel bad.”
“That was humiliating,” Sirius said into the rucked up wrinkles of his shirt, though Remus could feel his smile. “Mon dieu, I can’t—I don’t know whether I’m into that or not. Are you okay?”
“Other than a ruined orgasm? Peachy-keen, baby.” He wiggled back into Sirius, who was still hard and heavy and burning hot in him despite the intrusion. “You?”
Sirius answered by pulling his chest up so Remus was almost on his toes and snapping his hips forward so hard that small black stars popped at the corners of his vision. Remus’ mouth fell open without any say on his brain’s part—then again, his brain had been thinking of very little other than yes yes yes more more harder yes for about ten minutes. “Want me to bend you over again?”
Remus licked his lips, making valiant effort to not go crosseyed. Every drop of lost arousal surged back in double-time. “I—don’t care—oh fuck—your choice.”
“This is your—what’s it called?”
“Prize,” he moaned.
“Your prize, your choice.” Sirius’ voice was right next to his ear, turning his insides to mush with every sultry word.
“Just bend me I don’t—”
Remus didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Sirius knocked one of his legs out further and tilted him downward again, making him scramble to regain his meager hold on the freezing steel. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and his breathing was more ragged; he jerked Remus a grand total of about four times before the tiles below him blurred and he hand to bite down on his forearm so the whole bar didn’t hear his orgasm hit him like a runaway freight train.
His heels hit the ground hard. Sirius pulled out and Remus felt come stripe his lower back mere seconds later, sending his blood in a dizzying rush back toward his face. “Shit,” said through numb lips once the ringing sound faded.
Sirius’ breath caught. “What?”
“I forgot baby wipes.”
There was a quiet laugh behind him and he didn’t even bother looking back as Sirius rested his forehead between his shoulder blades, wrapping both arms around his torso. “The things you worry about,” he muttered with undeniable fondness. “Je t’adore.”
“Mmm, pulling out the fancy one,” Remus murmured without opening his eyes. His hair was damp against his forearm. “I love you, too.”
“Think you can walk yet?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he teased, leaning down to pull his pants and underwear back up. He opened the door with a shaky hand and managed three steps before he had to lean on the stall divider for support to the sound of Sirius’ muffled glee. “You know what, you can flatter yourself a little bit, actually.”
“Stay there.” Sirius’ eyes were alight with affectionate mischief; he placed a lingering kiss to his temple, then half-jogged to the sinks to wash his hands and dampen a handful of paper towels, passing half to Remus. “Need help?”
“Nah, I got it.” The water was nice and cool on his overheated skin, swiping away the itchiness that was already starting to bother him. Sirius took the wad of paper when he was done, then pulled him back in for a slow kiss against the divider that drew the last woozy butterflies out of his stomach. “You’d stop kissing me like that if you knew what’s good for you,” Remus said into his mouth.
Sirius’ tongue flicked playfully over his lower lip. “Ouais?”
“Ouais. I didn’t bring anymore lube and that poor guy has been waiting for ages already.” He poked Sirius right in the center of his chest, but bowed into him when the hand at the small of his back applied a bit of pressure.
“So unfair,” Sirius agreed, nudging their noses together as he kept kissing the breath right out of Remus’ lungs. “I can really tell your protests come from the heart right now.”
“You’re certainly making a tough argument,” Remus said dryly while he slipped his hands into Sirius’ back pockets. What’s the harm in a couple more minutes? he thought, kneading the soft muscle in his palms. A bit of a break never hurt anyone. And if he needed a little more time to make sure he wasn’t staggering through the bar on jelly legs, that was simply part of the prize.
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Clean - (EZ Reyes Drabble)
A/N- 5 seconds into the new season and I’ve already got a new EZ fic....oops? 👀 But like what else do you expect from the President of the EZ Reyes Hoe Club?? Also...blame these two!! @appropriate-writers-name​ @miss-nori85​ for these posts! (1) (2) 
Summary- EZ has a little solo fun...
Warnings- Why can’t I English rn omg, Smut. EZ jerks off in the shower. Sprinkle of his breeding kink..
Wordcount- 730. Excuse any mistakes this isn’t edited and I’m tired ,idk why I’m posting this so late. 😫
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✨As always, my stories are written with a Black/Latina/WOC reader in mind and are purely for fun. 18+ Readers only. Enjoy!✨
EZ was stressed. Not only did he have to worry about the added responsibilities of being a fully patched MC member. He also worried about you along with Felipe, Angel, and lastly himself. Even though you were due to visit him soon and finally bring him back down to earth and help him relax he felt a quick solo release wouldn’t hurt anyone...especially with his high stamina. 
He smirked to himself as he stepped into the small shower. His dick already hard at the thought of seeing you and being near you again. 
He turned the dials of the shower and groaned as the warm water relaxed his muscular shoulders you loved to cling to... in and out of the bedroom. 
The water ran over his faded haircut and down his face while he stood under the spout. 
He pictured you there with him. 
Your hands on his waist as you kissed each of his pecs. Manicured nails raking down the defined ridges of his abs while you told him just how much you missed him. 
You’d meet his hazel eyes as he gave you the golden boy smile that made your heart and pussy flutter. 
He imagined it all so clearly as if you were standing stark naked in front of him, just the way he loved. Admiring your form and kissing all the places he knew you were insecure about. He couldn’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you. 
But for now, it was just him and his imagination.
He wrapped his veiny hand around his equally veiny and thick dick. 
His strokes started off slow, just the way you liked to tease him and make him beg for more  when it was your smaller hand wrapped around him. The muscles of his biceps were flexing and tensing as he began pumping himself faster while he imagined you again, begging him to cum for you. The way your voice grew small and needy for only him made his heart swell with pride.
The water dripped off of his pouty lips as his voice echoed loudly off of the shower walls while he moaned out your name
 He could already feel his orgasm building as his lower abdomen began to tense. 
His need for you grew more and more with every long stroke. His pace increased as he remembered the last time he had you. 
Only a few days ago.
You were moaning out his name as he pounded into you from behind. Telling him you needed him, harder and deeper inside of you. 
Your pussy gripping him tightly as he gave you everything he had, even after you found your release you still wanted more, and that drove him wild. 
He came inside of you and you begged him to do it again and he did...multiple times that night. 
The thought of filling you up again sent him over the edge as he came with a guttural groan and his head thrown back. His body convulsed slightly as thick ropes of cum covered his hand. He grinned at the realization of just how much control you had over him and how badly he needed you. To be inside you, to feel you, taste you, fill you up just the way you both loved. His chest was rising and falling as he continued to pump himself.  
The steam was swirling around his muscular body as you watched through the clear shower curtain. Even through the cheap fogged up plastic his body still looked statuesque.
He let out one last groan and you whimpered then squeezed your thighs together. 
“Hey baby.” His husky voice went straight to your core, increasing your arousal. 
“You knew I was watching?” You felt your cheeks heat up at being caught but began removing your clothing. 
“Wanted to give you a show.” He peeked his head out of the shower and winked. You almost came just from the sight. 
You walked over to him already naked and he hissed as you replaced his hand with yours. 
He pulled you in for a heated kiss as you began to pump him slowly and he hardened again...just for you.
“No fun in just watching. Can I join?”
“Only if I get to cum in you again.” He smirked against your neck as his plumps lips assaulted your skin.
“As many times as you want.” You moaned as he pulled you in the shower..
~B. Did yall enjoy that little snippet?... Part two?..yes?..No? Lemme know! All feedback is appreciated!
Tags! -General- @starrynite7114​ @youlovetkay​ @wildfirecracker​ @playbucky​ @chaneajoyyy​ @deathonyourtongue​ @rhyrhy462​  @backandbetter2​ @obriwanken0bi​ @keithseabrook27 @write-fromthe-start​ @browngirldominion​ @hell1129-blog @kaystacks17​ @sadthotsonlylove​ @brattyfics​ @acceptyourselfloveyourself​ @bigsisbria @ctrlszn​ @earl-aive​ @pearlkitten33​ @mauvecherie​​ @titty-teetee​ @booksandlatenights​ @dc41896​ @amelatonin​ @blckgrl-sunflower​ @felicity-x0​ @lilac-tea-time​ @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners​ @roxyfan14-blog​ @relaxing-najee​ @superficialfeelings​ @kaystacks17​ @fumbling-fanfics​ @sheeshgivemeabreak​ @mbaku-babygirl​ @amorestevens​ @rosieposie0624​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @toni9
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liusaidh-writing · a year ago
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North Carolina + Outlander
A lifelong North Carolina native’s quick, thoroughly amateur tour of pieces of NC that are in the books and/or show! YAAY! (OR NOT?) I’m including what I can, though I’m sure there’s tons more I could add. Enjoy!
FRASER'S RIDGE
The Fraser Family home and the surrounding area are obviously fictional places, but they’re said to be ‘located’ in or around Blowing Rock, North Carolina. This is a beautiful mountain town with plenty of hiking and family activities to keep you busy. You can visit Blowing Rock (below), take in the views, and supposedly, if you hold a piece of paper and try to let it drop over the edge of the rocky cliff, it’ll blow back up (hence the name Blowing Rock.) I am no geologist or scientist or whatever, so please, do not ask me to explain this phenomenon.  Drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway and try to imagine Jamie, Claire, and family on horseback up in the hills! 
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Grandfather Mountain
This is where Roger and Bree go to the Highland Games. Pictured below is the Mile High swinging bridge (it does swing, and it’s especially great when the fog has settled in!)  They do hold Highland Games up here from time to time, though I can’t say I’ve ever been. (I don’t know exactly WHERE - it’s obviously not held on this bridge :p). It’s a nerve-wracking drive up the mountain, but oh-so-pretty. (Side note: the Gathering at the beginning of The Fiery Cross took place in TN on Roan Mountain, but I always felt it would’ve been more fitting had it been on Grandfather Mountain, considering Roger and Bree visit in the future... but I suppose DG had some historical information I do not that caused her to put the Gathering in TN.)
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Salem (now known as Winston-Salem, NC)
Old Salem is a living history museum. (Much like Colonial Williamsburg up in Virginia.) In the books, from time to time, Salem is mentioned, so I thought I’d include it because it’s a fun place to visit! 
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Alamance Battleground 
This battleground is in Alamance County in central North Carolina, and there’s a visitor center and they sometimes do historic reenactments here! There’s....also a good outlet mall nearby if you’re more into that sort of thing. (LOL)
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Tryon Palace (The Governor's Palace)
New Bern, NC is one of my favorite places to visit. The downtown area is wonderful (Pepsi, anyone?) and you can tour Tryon Palace and a number of other Colonial area homes and locations! It’s so interesting, and gorgeous along the waterfront. If you recall, when Claire was arrested and wound up the Governor’s scribe of sorts, this is where she is held.  Jamie and Claire have at least one dinner with Governor Tryon here, too. This palace, as far as I am aware, was abandoned as the Revolution started up, and the current Governor fled to New York (this is all from memory as I have a child crawling on top of me and I haven’t the time to Google this shit.) They also have had OUTLANDER events here in the past. 
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Wilmington, NC
Hey, this is where Jamie is taking a piss and he meets his daughter for the first time!! Wilmington is a fun city to visit, though the traffic is absolutely horrible so...be prepared. There are nearby beaches and things, but I’d take a look at historic Downtown first. There’s a great riverwalk overlooking the Cape Fear River (yeah, that one that Jamie and Claire take a boat down to reach Cross Creek, and in the process lose everything they own...poor things. Also fuck Stephen Bonnet.) There’s lots of shops and restaurants, and, thankfully, a nice breeze because JHRC, North Carolina is fucking HOT in the summer.
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Ocracoke Island, NC
This tiny island is featured in at least one of the books - though DG never mentions how actually difficult it is to get to, unless there was a land bridge back then??) It is part of the Outer Banks, accessible only by boat or ferry (1-800-Ferry - you fellow NC people know what I’m talking about!) Check out the wild Ponies, corralled on the island, rent a bike and go to the beach, stay at Blackbeard’s Lodge, visit the lighthouse. It’s small, but it’s amazing. If you do anything on this list, go here. It’d be my first pick, anyway! (Shameless self-promotion: go read my fic Among the Wild Ponies to see JC frolick around the island!)
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So, that concludes this Outlander-ish tour of NC. Hope you enjoyed yourself! 
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seacottons · a year ago
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pairing: lifeguard!jongho x f. reader
wc: <1k
notes: smut. literally just smut. don't look for a plot here. HAHAHA. this sucks, but it's helping me get out of my writing drought so there's that
summary: lifeguarding was very easy for jongho. keeping his eyes off of you wasn't.
Jongho's job was easy. Sit down on the lifeguard stand and watch all of the swimmers in the public pool. Reapply sunscreen every now and then. Blow his whistle whenever the teenagers started acting up in one corner. Change shifts every other hour with San.
Fairly simple.
Easy.
It should've been a breeze, but you ruined it the moment you stepped foot in the area with a mutual friend of his, Wooyoung.
Every time you paid a visit to the pool with Wooyoung and his other friends, Jongho couldn't keep his gaze off you. You were so naturally charming, he couldn't help but be drawn to you like a moth to a light. Your laughter, your bright smile, and the way you playfully wrestled with an obnoxious Wooyoung every time he attempted to throw you into the pool made Jongho's shift much less boring than usual.
The way droplets of water cascaded down your thighs and in between your cleavage had him blushing as if he'd been bathing endlessly underneath the summer sun. Your hardened nipples demanded his attention through your one piece swimsuit when you tried to make casual conversation with him as soon as San took over his spot. Jongho seems to notice the way San's gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds than necessary, and he almost always attempts to shield you away from his prying gaze. He doesn't miss the wink San sends your way just as you waved goodbye. He threateningly jostles the lifeguard tower as San shrieks and holds on for dear life.
"What was that for!"
Wooyoung, the devil he is, was too quick to pick up on Jongho's change of demeanor when you were around, thus occasionally trapping the two of you in a conversation before sauntering away alone to bother San.
Months of lusftul glances and endless, flirtatious comments flew by, and Jongho has had enough.
Having you bent in half just for him on the indoor facility's benches was a sight that he'll burn into the back of his mind for the rest of his lifetime. His steely eyes trained on your form as his fingers clutched the top half of your one piece bathing suit, using it as leverage as he thrusted into your warmth.
Jongho admired the way your exposed tits bounced with each snap of his hips, occasionally groaning out loud when the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. He briefly glances up to triple check that he indeed did lock the door behind him. Beams of sunlight from the high windows danced against the tiled room along with the loud squelching coming from between your conjoined bodies. You gripped the edges of the bench for dear life as he pistoned into you, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head when he aimed for a certain spot. His eyes trailed down your frame to land on the way that he shoved the bathing suit aside to expose your core and make way for his thick girth. The way you stretched to accommodate his size was simply a sight to behold.
"Look at you," he growled, strands of his black hair sticking stubbornly against his forehead, "taking me so well."
Emboldened by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touches, he reached down to throw your legs over his shoulders, watching the way the veins within your neck pulsate and how your face contorts in pleasure at the change of position.
"Jesus fucking christ.." he hisses into your ear, other hand coming up to grip your head back by your hair, arms and thighs flexing, "such a sweet, tight hole just for me."
He aimed to ruin you.
He wanted to leave you a drooling mess by the time his next shift begins, wanting you to milk him out as long as you can take it. Jongho loved the way you mewled and keened as he drilled into your sopping, wet cunt, the way your back arched high off the bench when he thrusted just a tad bit too deep. His grip on your hips was harsh, and you're sure it'll leave bruises, but your brain is too useless at the moment, shrouded by a thick, lusftul fog that has you not giving a damn as all you can only focus on is his throbbing cock twitching against your deepest depths.
"J-jongho! Please— "
You concealed your flaming face with your forearms, only to have him sit up right with a breathy laugh, the ridges of his abdominal muscles flexing as he teasingly rubs your side, fingers pinching the elastic of your bathing suit and tugging, only to let it snap back against your skin, "What's the matter, Y/n? Weren't so shy earlier when you were sucking me clean, hm baby?"
If the way you clamped around him was anything to go by, he knew you were into being humiliated. It felt too good for you to care and snap back at him with a sassy retort.
With a guttural growl, he delivered a harsh thrust that had you crying his name out loud, to which he tsked, veiny hand immediately reaching down to land a gentle slap at your ass, before making its way to rub circles against your clit, "Are you that desperate for someone to find us like this? I'm yours for the next half hour, y'know," he adjusts his footing before swiveling his hips forward roughly, "so don't worry. You'll have all of me, baby. I'm all yours for the rest of the day."
That was a lie.
But it's fine. San can work two shifts back to back just for today.
It wouldn't kill him.
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moonlitdabi · 8 months ago
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Bubble bath with Geto!! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧
Pairing: Geto Suguru x fem!reader
CW: Vampire!geto hehehe. a sprinkle of suggestiveness
A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated xx
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Puffs of steam gradually fill up the bathroom, fogging up the mirrors, covering the room in a haze that leaves Geto feeling feeling light as a feather. A satisfied sigh leaves his lips as he sinks into the bath with bubbles filled to the brim, creating little waves that bounce off his chest as he settles in. The warmth of the water washes over him, like a gentle lullaby, coaxing out the tension knotted in his muscles. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back, head resting against the cool porcelain. The soft scents of vanilla and lavender fill his nose, Geto exhales through his nose, releasing the week’s built up stress, allowing the delicate scents and oils to do work through the snowballed tension in his body, softening up the rough ridges and edges.
The pitter patter of his heart slows to a steady rhythm as he lies there, melting into putty under the heat. The silence and stillness almost has him drifting off into his dreams, that is until he hears shuffling from the outside. Quick and excited steps greet his ears as the bathroom door opens and closes with a soft click. A playful giggle echoes in the bathroom and Geto sighs knowing his peace was short-lived. Even so, there’s a smile on his face as hears you hop into the bath, disrupting the calm water with harsh waves which has the foamy water spilling over the bath’s edges and into the floor with a loud splat.
A content sigh leaves you lips as you wiggle around, legs brushing against Geto’s inner thighs as you settle in. Your toes curl against his inner thigh, the tickling sensation has him biting his lips to hold back a chuckle. Calm and serenity returns shortly but he has Geto feeling uneasy. You’re quiet, too quiet. Geto peaks through one eye to find you already adorning a bubbled crown, hair clinging to your forehead and cheeks without any care in the world. He watches as you gather up a mountain of bubbles before scooping up a large amount in your hand and attaching blob of what he assumes is supposed to resemble a beard to your chin. Focused on the task at hand, you fail notice his lingering gaze as you continue to gather a large amount of bubbles. Using your arms as a makeshift ladle you gather your mountain of bubbles and scoot forward, not caring for the water spilling over as you close the distance between you and Geto.
Geto sits upright, naturally spreading his legs, pulling them up on either side, almost caging you in as you sit on your knees before him, chest to chest. His hands instinctively latch onto your hips, tracing soft circles against your skin as they travel along your sides. Geto’s attention falls onto your face, noticing the focus in your eyes as you work on your little project, so cute. He leans in, pressing a kiss to corner of your lips which elects a giggle from you as you turn your head to the side, softly whining ‘I’m busyyyy’. He pays you no mind as he leaves a trail open mouthed kisses along your collarbone, ignoring your protests, ‘can’t see the bubbles, Sugu’. His wondering hands find your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. His lips are on your neck, nibbling and sucking on your pulse point. Your actions cease as a shaky breath leaves your lips. Geto smirks against your skin. The sharp points of his fangs dance along the surface of your sensitive skin before he can indulge himself in the sweet taste of your blood, your hands are on his chest, pushing him back with a huff, effectively stopping his ministrations. Geto huffs in return, feigning innocence with a small pout on his lips.
You look at him through narrowed eyes but there’s a playful smile adorning your lips as your index and middle finger slowly saunter along his chest, working their way up to his face. As you reach his lips, Geto bites at your finger and you squeak, fingers retreating immediately. You manage to escape with a slight nip, fortunately without breaking skin, unfortunately for Geto. Geto clicks his tongue in disappointment which makes you flick his nose in return.
You noise scrunches up in the cutest way possible and it drives Geto crazy, he resists the urge to just bite. “Stop distracting me.”
“You’re the distracting one.” Geto counters, lightly pinching your waist.
You pay him no mind as you gather up your collection of soap bubbles and in one big grand swoop, dump it onto Geto’s head. You grin proudly at your work while Geto rolls his eyes playfully with a slight shake of his head. Bubble beard long gone, Geto takes hold of your chin, thumb brushing softly against your lower lip. Your lips parting instinctively to welcome him but he pulls you into a kiss instead, melting into the warmth of your lips.
The calm, lazy atmosphere returns as the both of you fall silent. Learning against Geto, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around you, your muscles go lax as you snuggle into him, sighing with content. Geto presses a kiss to your temple and down to back of ear, nibbling on your earlobe before drifting to the nape of your neck. Nuzzling against your skin with a hum, Geto rests his head on your shoulder, lips never straying from your neck. Just as you feel your eyes close heavy with sleep, Geto’s low voice creeps onto you, leaving a trail of goosebumps against your skin.
“Can I have a bite now?”
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