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prettygiri222 · 4 months

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okay but imagine eren seen a video of his baby momma at the club singin sexy redd’s “ FUCK MY BABYDADDY ” 😭😭 he just brings their son or daughter to reader’s mom and goes back to reader’s house and tears them TF upppp.

i can just hear him saying “ fuck yo baby who?? oh aight. ”

I had to add rapper!Eren to this cause it's something I always wanted to write😋

Eren x Black Fem Reader, PLOT + SMUT

rapper Eren Yeager's longtime girlfriend of six years broke up with him after having his first child, Duke Yeager. Eren shared a post on instagram confirming their breakup but stated that the both of them remain in Duke’s life as co-parents. the reason why was unreleased so fans speculated that Eren must’ve cheated because why else would you willingly break up with the famous rapper. his management released a statement saying it was due to conflicting schedules but it was seen as damage control so no one believed it.

during the six years of the relationship, his management managed to keep your face out of the media. but with the way Eren was constantly posting snippets of you, fans soon discovered who you were after matching physical features, traits and location that were found on his story with the ones present on your small instagram.

you two quickly became the it couple, how the girl from nowhere pulled a famous rapper gave fans hope because they saw them reflected in you. a woman who didn’t have to undergo multiple surgeries to pull the industry's finest. but after the breakup, that image fell.

his management did their best to keep things under wraps to keep the media from tormenting you but it didn’t work. when you posted a picture of yourself postpartum your dms filled with hateful comments wondering why Eren had gotten with you in the first place. you knew it was just jealous fangirls but it still got to you, especially since you weren’t all that confident in your new body and still recovering from your pregnancy. your accounts went silent shortly after.

although the breakup was mutual, the reason why was deeper than scheduling conflicts. you needed someone who was able to be there physically, emotionally and mentally. it was hard for Eren to provide that due to his career path, always travelling the world with a packed schedule. you guys did your best to make it work but after Duke came into the world you just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Eren was a decent baby daddy and you guys co-parented well. you had full custody of him but when Eren was in town and would have time off you would send Duke over to him. Duke loved his daddy, always wanting to watch his concerts and interviews on the TV when he wasn’t there or free to facetime. Eren always made sure to send double what was asked for in child support to make sure you took care of yourself as well as his son.

that’s why when you reposted your friend’s story of you in the club all hell broke loose. people took it as a diss to your baby daddy, which it was, but not in the way they thought.

earlier that week you had dropped Duke off at Eren’s mansion. he had just flown back in from his world tour and finally had a few weeks off. despite being exhausted he called you up and asked if you could bring Duke over, wanting to spend as much time with his son as possible during his break. he sent over an uber black to pick the two of you up.

when Eren met you two at the door, Duke jumped into his arms smiling and giggling. it’s been a while since he’s seen his daddy in person. the sight made you awe. Eren turned to you and asked if you wanted to stay over so he could spend time with the two most important people in his life but sadly you declined. you didn’t want to interrupt their father and son bonding time.

Duke was almost a clone of Eren, he had his sharp green eyes, german nose and face shape. the only hints of you in him were his full lips, darker skin and coils. Duke was your little bundle of joy but he could be a handful at times. during the few times those two got to spend together Eren spoiled him rotten, whatever he wanted he got and it showed. whenever you told him no he would throw a tantrum saying how he wanted his daddy. you knew you were a good mother but hearing him say that when you were the one who took care of him every day hurt.

---

it was a friday night and Eren was at his crib chilling with Duke. he had his phone on do now disturb so his time with his family wouldn’t be interrupted. it was a shame you weren’t here to spend time with them. after having pizza, soda and ice cream for dinner the boys passed out on the couch after staying up past midnight watching movies.

his peace was soon interrupted by the constant buzz of his phone. it roused him from his sleep but Duke slept through it. after the third ring, he finally answered the phone. he was pissed that his manager was calling him knowing it was his time off but he figured it must be important for them to use emergency bypass to call.

“what’s going on?” his voice gruff from his slumber and irritation. he turned on his phone to see it flooded with notifications from instagram, snapchat, tiktok, twitter, messages, missed calls from his friends and one from his mom and his heart dropped to his stomach. he hadn't dropped anything new recently so he knew whatever was happening had to be bad.

“well… it’s about your baby mama… she uh…” his manager was at a loss for words. he didn't know the words to describe the situation to make it not seem as bad as the media was already making it out to be. he knew Eren would be pissed when he found out what happened and they didn't want to be on the end of it.

Eren was extremely protective of his family and friends. when he saw the hate you were receiving after you posted a picture of yourself postpartum he took to twitter immediately. he did not play when it came to you, together or not together. you were the mother of his child and you needed your respect. so he was wondering why you were playing in his face like this.

“well what is it?” he snapped, already losing his patience. “is she ok? is she hurt?” he shot upright from his resting position on the couch. he opened up the group chat between him, Armin, Connie, Onyankopon and Jean first. all that was sent was a blurry video followed by a bunch of skull and grave emojis.

he opened the video and immediately recognized the faces of a few of the girls in it as a few of your friends, Sasha, Mikasa and Historia at a club. Sasha, Connie’s model girlfriend was the one to record them singing along to a sexyy red song. he wondered what the video had to do with him until it panned to you. you stood out with your brightly dyed red hair styled in a what he recognized as a wash-and-go.

“fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!” you were shouting the lyrics a little bit too passionately. you had your middle fingers stuck up to the camera showing off your glittery red acrylic nails. you were clearly wasted, drunk off of whatever drinks Sasha managed to shove down your throat.

“yes bitch!” your friends shouted as you turned around to shake your ass sticking out your tongue. you were wearing a ripped mesh dress. one of your friends reached out to pull down the back of your dress to prevent your ass from showing but the dress was already leaving very little to the imagination. the pregnancy did your body good, you were a bit on the skinny side before but now your hips had filled out, your ass and boobs swole and your skin finally cleared up. you were glowing.

“I’m a fine ass bitch, I ain’t in the in the house sad!” you were feeling yourself. it felt nice to get out of the house and away from Duke no matter how much you loved him. having to take care of a baby by yourself was tiring, no matter how much Eren supported you from afar you needed him there with you.

your friends were hyping you up and your mind grew hazy from both the alcohol and adrenaline. you were far too gone to realize what you said when you yelled “fuck Eren!” instead of the actual lyrics. the camera quickly panned to the floor before the video stopped.

Eren had to replay the video countless times to process what he had seen and heard. but he couldn’t believe it was you. never in the eight years he’s known you have you ever picked up the phone to send a dig at him through social media. no matter how tough the going got, it’s what he respected about you. you always wanted to talk problems through and try to make it work. Eren clenched his fist looking at you now.

Eren knows how baby mamas like you are seen and treated in the industry. he’s seen how they're constantly bashed and embarrassed by the fathers of their children and the media. Eren never wanted that for you, he wanted to give you a ring before he gave you a baby but accidents happen and here you both were. instead of calling him or stopping by to talk you wanted to show out for the fans and diss him. it was stupid of you, he knew you were better than this.

“so it’s “fuck Eren” is that right,” Eren laughed to himself throwing his head back on the couch. sure he couldn’t be there for you and Duke all the time like he wanted but at least he tried. he was a very busy man. but he did what he had to to make sure his mother, Duke and you could have a nice and cozy life. where Duke didn’t have to worry about if he was going to eat dinner that night. “bet.”

“sorry little man but I have to go get your mommy. you’re going to go to stay with your grandma tonight, ok?” he cooed to Duke, waking him up. Duke slowly woke up and was trying to rub the sleep out of his eye. Eren loved his son very much he was the reason he kept this stressful life up.

he enjoyed making music and performing but not during the days when he slept in the studio trying to find the perfect lyrics and beat or days where he hardly slept because he had to stay on his feet. it was a fast life and if he couldn’t keep up it would all come crashing down. and for you to make a dig at that knowing how he felt was fucked.

“Eren Yeager!” his manager shouted through the phone overhearing the whole thing. he needed Eren to keep a calm head and not do anything rash tonight. he didn’t need him sparking more outrage in the media or doing something that could potentially ruin the relationship you two had. “what are you going to do?”

“what else, I’m going to go fuck my baby mama,” before his manager could get another word out he hung up the phone.

“daddy said a bad word!”

“...don’t tell your mom and I’ll bring you to the studio with me.”

---

you wobbled into your apartment with a sheepish grin. it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder tonight. it’s been a while since you went to the club and got so drunk that the world became a blur. you were slowly regaining memories of what happened that night and you couldn’t help but cringe knowing you would regret some of them in the morning. your phone died on your way home after you reposted Sasha’s story so you were oblivious to the buzz you had created.

when you went to unlock your door you found out that it was already open. you raised your brow but you brushed it off thinking you must’ve forgotten to lock it in your rush to leave the house. you knew the security for your building was tight, it was the main thing you were looking for when you were buying your apartment. it was a necessity since Duke was the son of a successful rapper.

when you and Eren had split you bought yourself a nice little two-bedroom apartment deep in the city. Eren offered to pay for it but you immediately declined, you didn’t want anything else of yours to get attached to him. during your relationship you saved up a lot of money since Eren had always offered to buy you whatever you wanted and spoiled you rotten just like he was doing with Duke. he fueled your shopping addiction only wanting his girlfriend to have the best of the best.

you had a little side hustle as an occasional hairstylist and nail artist for your friends and family with the occasional new client. Eren told you time and time again you didn’t need to work and that he would take care of everything. but you liked having your own source of income it made you feel independent plus you enjoyed your job.

being able to close on your dream apartment was a dream come true and it left you feeling satisfied. you loved how everything was within walking distance, there was a daycare down the street along with an elementary school for when Duke got older. there was a grocery store right around the corner with a few outlets and public transit ran just outside the building, it was perfect for a single mother like you.

“thought we were doing good with this co-parenting shit mama?” the second you opened the door you were greeted by a voice you knew better than your own. goosebumps covered your arms, ‘why is he here’ you thought.

“Eren?” you called out into the dark apartment. you felt the wall closest to the door for the switch and turned the light on. and there he was, Eren, your famous baby daddy. he turned his head to look at you from where he was seated on the couch. his eyes were extremely low, watching your every move. “are you ok? where's Duke?”

“with your mom,” Eren was having such a pleasant high, he felt so relaxed and calm in the dark room. he didn’t have the TV on and was just staring at the black screen. but the second the room lit up and you walked through the door with that tiny see-through dress on it dispersed. he narrowed his eyes down at you and you could tell you had just blown his high. his anger simmering underneath his calm demeanour.

“how’d you even get in?” you never gave Eren the key to your apartment. having already been split and you always dropped Duke off at his place there was no reason for him to have one.

“front desk gave me a key after I flashed a couple of stacks,” he replied nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a crime on both parts. you rolled your eyes, this was how Eren fixed all his problems, with money. you get that when he was growing up it was something he didn’t have but now that he had it was like all he knew how to do was throw it at people to make his problems disappear.

“well if Duke isn’t here then there’s no reason for you to be,” you don’t know what you did to warrant this visit but you didn’t want to be in his presence any longer. you liked to keep your contact with Eren as minimal as possible. plus you didn’t have the energy to deal with him tonight, you were tired. hoping he would get the hint it was time to leave you walked away and headed towards your bedroom, “please see yourself out. we can talk another day.”

“nah, 'cause it’s “fuck Eren” right?” he got up from the couch and followed you down the hall and into your room. the wooden floor creaking under his weight. you didn’t have to turn around to know he was towering over you, you could feel him breathing down your neck. you tried to move away from him but he gripped your waist with a firm grip underneath and pulled you against him. “you must’ve gone crazy going so long with my dick huh? that must be it, acting like you lost your damn mind.”

“Eren!” you pulled away to look back at him in shock. “what are you even talking about?”

“don’t play dumb with me mama, your ass is all over the shade room talking about “fuck my baby daddy” ” he took his phone out of his pocket to show you their newest post. it was a screenshot of a video but it was clearly you, it was the same outfit and hairstyle you had on right now. you swiped the image on his phone in disbelief and the video played, “fuck Eren! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!”

“oh my gosh! Eren, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I was drunk and got carried away,” you looked up at him from the phone. you could tell he was pissed, his eyes darkened after hearing what you said in the video for the hundredth time. you were horrified, you didn’t mean to air out your personal problems and make Eren seem like a bad father. you knew how the public blew things out of proportion.

“they say drunk words are sober thoughts,” Eren stated, shrugging his shoulders. “I know Duke be stressing you out ma, let me fix it,” he stared down at you with a little smirk. he licked his lips, obviously checking you out. it's been a while since he's seen your body exposed, you always show up to drop Duke off in oversized sweaters and shirts. just looking at you like this made his dick hard, “plus you owe me an apology.”

that’s how you found yourself face down ass up in your bedroom with the man you’d never thought would step foot in your new apartment. Eren was behind you standing at the edge of the bed, his black and grey nike tech sweater was thrown somewhere in your room leaving him in a white wife beater and his golden cuban link chain. his grey sweats were down so that just his dick was out.

“mm fuck Eren! please,” you cried out. no matter how deeply you arched or angled your hips you couldn’t get him to reach where you needed him the most. he knew that but he loved watching you struggle and the way your brown cheeks jiggled after coming into contact with his pelvis. you were a sight to see, one that he deeply missed.

“you can do better than that mama,” he raised his pierced brow watching you. Eren stood completely still behind you, you had your face buried in the sheets as you attempted to throw it back on him. you were still dressed in your mesh dress but he ripped your thong off. “I saw you in that video. you were shaking that shit so c’mon, fuck me back ma.”

your makeup was staining your sheets but you could care less right now. the feeling of Eren stretching out your practically virginal walls was dumbfounding. he didn’t bother to stretch you out believing that your body was already moulded to his shape. but it’s been about two years since you last had sex. your tight walls were struggling to accommodate his humongous size.

“ ’m trying,” the lack of stimulation on your sweet spots had you in tears. the stretch was pleasurable but it wasn’t enough, paired with the shallow thrusts. you so desperately craved more so you reached in between your legs to play with your clit. Eren groaned at the sight of you touching yourself, not to mention you began to clench around him.

“damn ma, now that’s what I’m talking about,” Eren gave your ass a harsh slap. you let out a little whine as you lost your rhythm because of it. but you soon found it again. your wetness was soaking his dick and you were basically twerking on his dick. Eren loved every second of it.

he took one of your ass cheeks and pulled it to the side with his tattooed hand, he watched himself go in and out of your brown folds. feeling the unsteady approach of his orgasm watching as you struggled to fuck yourself on him he decided to finally grant you mercy. he languidly began to thrust into you. “go ahead and nut on this dick mama.”

“o-okay” you stuttered out. you struggled to concentrate on stimulating your sensitive clit while bouncing back to meet Eren’s lazy thrusts. your fingers were covered in your own wetness while you rubbed little circles on your bud. each loop paired with the tip of his dick pressing against that spongy spot inside you brought you ever closer to your climax. “ ‘m so close!”

“let it out for me baby,” the pace became erratic, you guys’ release at its peak. sometimes his dick collided straight into your soft spot and sometimes it completely missed. but the feeling of him pummeling in and out of you had you convulsing around his dick. “keep squeezing around me like that and I'll put another baby in you, fuck.”

you let out broken whines as you struggled to continuously stimulate your bud. you were soaking wet that your fingers slipped around. “‘ren! ren!” you chanted, reaching out toward him with your slick-covered hand. Eren grabbed it and put it in his mouth. groaning deeply as he licked and sucked on your coated digits.

“don’t worry mama, I got you. let it out for me,” Eren leaned over your arched form and whispered in your ear. his husky sending shivers down your spine as he talked you through it. you listened to him feeling the wave of pleasure overwhelm you, the sensation in your stomach bursting.

“f-fuck, fuck!”

“shit,” when he felt himself about to burst he pulled out of your pussy's compelling grasp. he watched the lewd scene in front of him and used it to jerk off. he groaned out stroking his soaking dick. your pussy hole remained gaping after he pulled out and your liquids were spilling on your sheets. after a few strokes, he released all over your back onto your mesh dress staining it.

you plopped down onto your empty bed exhausted. the room filled with the sound of laboured breathing as you guys tried to catch your breath. the sound of Eren shuffling around could be heard soon after. your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you so soon but you closed your eyes, ‘it’s for the better’ you thought. you wanted a few moments of rest before you went to wash up.

but Eren wasn’t finished yet, he was shedding the remaining articles of his clothing leaving him naked. your eyes opened feeling the bed dip under the extra weight. before you could protest, Eren had already climbed on top of you, grabbing your legs and having them pushed over your head, “we’re not finished yet.”

this time Eren took the lead, he had ripped off your dress leaving you completely naked and exposed to his eyes. he had you folded over like a pretzel leaving you open for him. your legs were bent so far over your head you could see the top of your pussy and watch as Eren thrusted in and out of your overstimulated hole from above. the pleasure made you want to slither away but Eren’s strong hold kept you still.

“E-eren!” you were losing your mind from the stimulation. “too much! it’s too much!” you cried out. you reached out to push against his rock-hard abdomen. you didn’t want him to stop, not when you were so close to your second orgasm of the night but it was too much. he was being so rough with you. you didn’t think you had it in you after motherhood to be manhandled like this.

“nah, you can take it. you’re a big girl now, dissing me at the club with your friends. be glad I’m even fucking you since I’m such a “bad baby daddy.” Eren mocked you from above. he didn’t even flinch as you tried to push him away. he smiled down at you watching how easily you got fucked out. moans were no longer coming out your mouth, more like strangled sobs and whines that were being forced out after each deep thrust of his. the head of his dick battering your insides and abusing your soft spot left you tremoring underneath him.

“imsorryimsorry,” you babbled out. your mascara and eyeliner were running down your cheeks and your lipstick was smothered but you couldn’t look any prettier to Eren. he enjoyed watching as your tits bounce around. he brought his forest green eyes back up to you watching as you bit your quivering lip.

“how’d that song go again?” Eren sarcastically asked. with the number of times he replayed that video he had the lyrics, beat and rhythm all memorized. “something like this right?” pap! pap! pap! Eren changed the rhythm of his thrusts, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass and the squelching sounds of your pussy mimicked the bow bow bow of the song. he angled each thrust to deliver a particularly harsh hit to your g-spot.

without warning an intense feeling of pleasure erupted in your stomach. “imcuming!” you cried out. you could feel a liquid flow out from your pussy, completely drenching Eren’s dick. he quickly pulled out to watch you squirt, a sight he immensely missed. the translucent liquid gushed out of your hole soaking the sheets as well.

“you said fuck your baby who?” Eren smiled down at your fucked out face. you couldn’t even answer him with the overwhelming pleasure rendering all of your senses useless. your head was thrown back and your face furrowed, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. “oh aight.”

I think I got a bit carried away🤭

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loud-sturniolos · 21 days

Text

Party

possessive!Matt x reader

Summary:

While at a party some drunk guy doesn’t seem to get the hint that you’re taken.

Warnings:

Drinking, possessive and jealous Matt, shy/awkward reader, pet names used by stranger(Pretty girl, baby girl) and Matt (babydoll, sweetheart, princess.), suggestive, protective Nick, not proof read!!! Kinda shit!!

Reader , Matt , stranger , Nick

A/N: Writers block is KILLING me rn. 😭

The bright, flashing lights, along with music blasting, filled the club. You had just walked away from Matt, Chris and Nick to get yourself a refill of your drink.

As you stood next to the bar and waited for the bartender to return with your drink, you felt someone brush up behind you. Turning around, you saw a man you’d never seen before; he was about 5’5”, had dirty blonde hair, green eyes, pale skin, and looked tipsy. He stared down with a cocky smirk, “Hey, pretty girl, what’s your name?” His voice was slurred, very drunk. “Uh.. my name’s Y/N.” You replied awkwardly, all you wanted was your drink then to return back to your boyfriend and his brothers. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He teased, making you internally cringe. He reached his hand forward to try touch your arm, but you quickly stepped to the side, now slightly away from the bar. An annoyed look spread across the mans face. “Why are you stepping back?” He demanded, stepping up into your personal space. “I- I have a boyfriend.” You stuttered out shyly, “So? He doesn’t have to know, baby girl..” He said, sounding sickly sweet as he grabbed your wrist in a bruisingly tight grip so you couldn’t walk away.

The bartender walked over with your drink, he gave the man a confused look but walked away after handing you your drink. “I gotta go back to my boyfriend.” You said nervously, but the man tried to drag you closer.

You suddenly heard a familiar voice behind you, “She has a boyfriend.” Nick told the man sternly, reaching between you and the man to yank his hand off you. “I don’t see him.” The stranger replies smugly, but Nick ignores him and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the bar and towards Chris and Matt again.

As soon as you got back to the group, Matt’s hand grabbed the side of your neck and pulled you into him, free arm going around your waist, hand on your lower back. “What happened, babydoll? Who the hell was that?” He asked sternly, clearly pissed off, but not at you. “I don’t know,” you mumbled quietly, now feeling safe in the arms of your boyfriend, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face into his chest, “He kept flirting with me, and was just being creepy.” Matt huffed in annoyance that another man tried to get with his girl. But, he stayed as calm as he can and rubbed your back gently, using his hand on the side of your neck to tilt your chin up, then leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Do you want to go home, sweetheart? Maybe go sit in the car for a bit?” He mumbled softly against your lips, smiling when you hummed in agreement. “Yeah.. we can go sit in the car for a bit, just us.” Matt smirked and pressed another quick kiss to your lips before pulling away and grabbing your hand, dragging you out the club and into the cool night air.

Matt dragged you over to his car, but instead of getting in the front seats he opens the back door and gets in, you follow and climb into the back with him before being dragged to straddle his lap, having to tilt your head down so you dont hit it on the roof of the car. He smirks and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

The messy makeout session leads to Matt trailing his hand up your inner thigh, before being interrupted by Matts phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls away slightly and checks it, seeing a message from Nick that they’re coming out the club now to come home. Matt groans in annoyance, showing you the text which makes you also groan in annoyance.

You both climb out the back of the car and get into the front, you in the passenger seat and Matt in the drivers seat, just before Nick and Chris get into the car Matt grabs your thigh and squeezes it, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ll continue where we left off when we’re back home, alright princess?” You blush slightly and nod, humming softly in agreement, then Chris and Nick open the back doors and get into the car.

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astralnymphh · 5 months

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Okay I have this little thought of fucking ellie in lotus position and I literally can’t get it out of my head

Sorry if this is weird I just feel like you could do it justice if you’re comfortable😭

omgg lotus position. that's like.. perfect for ellie cause she loves you straddling her and boobs.. and grabbing handfuls of ass meat. I'll do a little blurb on this but honestly might incorporate this position in a future fic. this feels a bit lazy but i swear im just saving my brain as i start saccharine saturations 2. MDNI ౨ৎ

lotus position with ellie ౨ৎ

let me paint the perspective on this blank canvas. the girl before you, ruby–eared as the budding roses of spring and swamping her sights in you, intoxication, a budding lust to be. the absolute hormone spurts you get whenever ellie drags you atop her lap is utterly intoxicating, utterly. you, sitting vis–à–vis. both of you undertaking the nude. her knees, bent to a perfect splay that opens a little seat just for you, a fleshy, cushiony, linen bedsheet crater. fair skin awash in tawny light, courtesy of the floor lamp abutting to the bed. a light that also reflects a shimmer string off the solid base of her strap, diagonally rested between those manspread legs. chartreuse green encapsulated in a bedroom–eye droopy–lid gaze surrounded by reeds of her deep amber esque lashes curving so softly from her puffy waterlines. an expression that says 'come sit on my lap pretty girl.' while she loiters one of those lusty hands to pose and dab her thigh gently– rippling the tight skin barely and croaking a smoky whisper, "c'mon baby, m' all ready for you now." as her lip corners tug a toothy smirk, folding the bottom lip under to bite. it coils back out, so pliantly, she lures you in tender.

ellie would fuck you so good in lotus. maddenly so, spires of her knobby digits grapple and hook on your ass, soothing softness leaven as milk bread. hairs on her arms, bitsy and tickle inducing, lie plumb from your thighs to your hips and are clasped in the soft layer of elasticity. she kneads your butt like malleable dough and spreads you wide on her pumping cock, lubricous laces lashing from your stuffed slit. the pressure exuded in her fingertips line your ass so perfectly to her roll of hip, she can fuck up into your cunt just right. in this angle, she deepens within you, and you take her unconditionally. plop, plop, palp, the slickening of cum glazes your underside thoroughly and crafts a wet slap whenever her dense hips rut into your cushy pussy lips. in your blurred numbness she finds a mania in seeing you all dog–panting and white–eyed, craning close and curling those sun–baked lips flush on your breast, "fuck that pussy back on me, mhmm, good girl.." brushing skin with her muffled coax. you bounce your bottom in sync with hers, creating a on beat rhythm, but in return her cock bottoms out deeper inside to the point of bulging a knob in your belly. on an ellie's perspective note, she fucking loves suckling upon your tender, risen nipples during sex, so this position basically emboldened her to put those eager lips to use. her gob caves an 'o' shape over your nipple and excitedly flicks her textured tongue over the nub, ever the more inflaming your pussy with euphoria. you card knuckles in her tuft of auburn hair, yanking a grip of locks to which ellie gives your nipple a teensy bite, getting you to yelp. ugh, can't you just visualize that view? a thin gap between your humping bodies, skin clumping and swelling, her perky boobs jiggling with the movements produced, peak of her russet pubes browsing over the harness base– slap! a red sting of fury nips you in the buttcheek, literally. ellie can't get enough of your rump, popping off your breast a moment and slanting her body aside to catch a glimpse of it, freak, indulging another slap. anyways, holding your hips captive to where she needs them, she pipes all the delectable cream she can out of you, grazing that bumpy vein shaft along your ribbed walls with a passion to spite 'unpassions', she coagulates a burning knot inside you, haste without chaste. girl will commit ungodly things to prove how helpless to climax you are on her thickset dick, popping her mouth off your tit to provoke in words of hypocrisy, "feels so good, huh? going dumb on my cock? yeahh? haha, god, can't even see your eyes, fuck." i claim hypocrisy, because we all know damn well with our combined minds that this girl gets dumb on your pussy, folding up her lips to contain the slobber threatening to make her look pussydrunk.

and she is most definetely pussydrunk, moreso in this position, climbing up to a high real fast. chromatically, her moan rises, "uhhhhhhh, yeahahhaaa.. ohh fuck."

how she looks cumming in this position? electrifying. her fawn freckled cheeks overcast in a flush of coral pink, gaping her lips wide and scrunching skin in all the right areas. the chafing pleasure tweaking her clit makes for a good fucking orgasm. her lids embracing the reflex of scantly shutting and gazing up at you, the green in her eyes somehow more vibrant and her pupils blown to a new moon. she just whines a grunty, "hahhh– mhhh, mhhh, yeessss." in a warble while twitching her last final blows against your beaten cervix, cockhead mashing that gummy donut. scarred as your shoulderblades take the toll ten clawing nails can bestow, her fingers whiten away the pigment with the strength issued into your flesh. her own pussy convulses and gathers up a bit of milky cum to streamline in strings along her perineum, dripping like dew onto the bed. you're ways from comparable, though, spraying your clear orgasm all over her. she'll praise you through her tale of moans, groaning, "uhhh yeah, get that cock all filthy– filthy, filthy, filthhh– fuuckkkk.." strands of her hair stick in an untidy manner beyond her hairline, shadowing that gloss of sweat narrowly. then, she dwindles down to a smile, a smile to bury. burying kisses in your sternum, she peppers up and up with a sudden awash of elation walking hand–in–hand with exhaustion. shaky nubs of her fingertips press and drag sweaty over the blushed marks given in her high, almost writing an apology to the poor scratches. looser skin of your back bulges and ribs between her waxy digits, cooling with a pasty ache. the weeping of pores after sex was no joke, no lie. and ellie intended to lick every puny dollop of it from your body. "l'mme clean you up.." she mumbles droney as a meadow bee barming your ears with a measly melody, voice muted in your neck. you reply, fumbly out of breath, "oh, a bath? i could really use a–" the chambré stamp of her tongue unfurls blunt to your neck, nudging up a spit trail along the skin. by clean you up, she just means lick you like a dog. i personally live for ellie doing that. you bumble, "ellie?" and she just garbles back, lips obviously occupied, "let me, mhh, clean you up.." and slipping a gritty chuckle in the depths of her throat, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

don't even get me started on ellie licking you up and down after sex.

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pupcuck · 3 months

Text

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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moon-rivr · 7 months

Note

So like what if. WHAT IF. Miguel ends up lusting after a new recruit. BUT she's a tatted up goth girl with an intimidating aura. He wants to screw her with every fiber in him. COULD YOU IMAGINE. BIG OL MIGGY WANTING TO GO AFTER HER. can you make this into a fic. Please. I'm foaming at the mouth. I love your work ❤

the girl with the tattoo

pairing: miguel o’hara x spiderwoman reader

warnings: masturbating (m), stalking(?), fingering, protected p in v, doggy, use of toy, overall smut 🫡

author’s note: thank so much for this request and i’m sorry it took me so long 😭 i hope you enjoy <33

word count: 4.1k

Your life as the spider-woman from your dimension was fulfilling, but it felt empty sometimes. You couldn't maintain any friendships because of how busy your schedule was, as a physicist and having to save the city. You'd lost your boyfriend a couple months back after a brutal fight with the Green Goblin, and you couldn't bring yourself to date anyone else again just yet. So when Hobie, the guy with the cool piercings on his face and same powers as you, recruited you to the Spider Society, you couldn't help but be enchanted by the idea.

Miguel had spent a couple minutes staring into the monitors when you walked in through that portal with Hobie, ignoring LYLA giving him the debrief about their latest mission. He was captivated by everything about you: by the tattoos on your arms and legs, the ink running through your skin perfectly to make these tiny shapes to the exaggerated eye liner you had on. "MIGUEL!" LYLA yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts as he turned around to look at his assistant. "The new recruit's here, try not to drool so much on the way over," she said with a small giggle before disappearing. Miguel rolled his eyes as he got off the platform, rubbing the side of his lip just in case he actually was drooling.

You were in the middle of talking to Hobie, getting the introduction around the place (mostly just to avoid Miguel at all costs), when you felt someone behind you. "Who's this?" You heard someone ask, turning around to see a very tall man standing in front of you. Hobie appeared unfazed as he shrugged, crossing his arms as he looked up at the man. "Is the new recruit. Started to show her around 'fo you showed up," he responded and you couldn't help but feel the man's stare boring into you. "What did I say about bringing it new recruits?" the man hissed out, rubbing his temples as he asked. "Not to bring 'em. She's talented though, you just need to see her in action," he responded, before leaving the two of you alone.

You looked over at the man, stating your name and extending your hand out as you noticed his gaze go from the tattoo on your upper arm to your hand. "Miguel," he simply stated, shaking your hand as gently as he could, his large fingers engulfing yours. You looked around to see some of the other members in the society staring at you two, their gaze diverting when they saw you returning their stare. "Do you plan on saying something or do you just plan on looking like a scary vampire?" You asked after a couple seconds of silence from Miguel’s end, watching as his brows furrow, his gaze averting from yours. You could've sworn from the descriptions that Hobie gave you that he would've turned out to be more of an ass, but the man just looked plain intimidated.

You walk into the 'design room' as Miguel called it, where he would be designing your suit and making it. You looked up to see a couple examples on the wall and you couldn't help but feel a bit impressed at just how versatile he was with the suits. You took off the black sweater you had on, leaving you in a tee and skirt. If you would've looked closer, you would've noticed Miguel staring at your breasts, his gaze darkening as he saw the metal bar poking through. However, your attention was directed at LYLA as she asked you a bunch of questions about what type of design you were looking for and the material that you wanted.

"No, no spandex," Miguel spoke up after a while, the two of you turning to look at him. "And why not?" You asked, folding your arms as your brows furrowed. Because he was pretty sure his cock wouldn't survive it. "It's just a really restrictive material, really, you'll be able to move a lot more freely with the holographic suit," he replied, his gaze averting yours so you wouldn't catch on to his lie. You turned to look at LYLA, shrugging as you tell her to use the holographic material for the black suit you had in mind.

Miguel felt his cock strain underneath his suit with every passing moment in that room, watching as LYLA took your measurements. Everything about you was just captivating to him, from the numerous amount of tattoos on your body to the damn nipple piercings that would invade his waking thoughts from now on. He was fascinated by the intricate designs of your tattoos, all seeming to have their own special meaning. He wanted to ask you about them, what they all meant and symbolized to you, but he got the impression that you didn't like him all that much. He opened up his gizmo when he felt you turn around, not wanting to get caught staring as he typed a random message to Peter, asking him to join for lunch.

Somehow, the fact that you didn't like him turned him on even more. He was used to women throwing themselves at him and begging at his feet, but he never had the instance where he was the one being intimidated. He watched as LYLA handed you the gizmo, explaining how to use it and how to turn your suit on. His gaze travelled down your body as you turned on the suit, the material wrapping around your curves perfectly. Shock, he really couldn't catch a break. He bit down on his hand to prevent himself from saying something embarrassing, feeling his cock tighten up even more in his suit. You turned around and looked at Miguel, a pleased smile on your face after looking at yourself in the mirror. "What do you think, boss?" You asked, noticing that his eyes just wouldn't meet yours. "It looks decent," he muttered, getting up abruptly and stepping out of the room. "Rude," you muttered, wondering why you'd even bothered to ask him.

Miguel went back to his office, ignoring all the other Spiders who greeted him. He felt his cock straining painfully underneath his suit, his hand gently rubbing against it. He turned off LYLA's access to his office for the time being and turned the monitors to analyze the cameras for the room that you were in. He saw LYLA making some modifications to your suit, the holographic material hugging your ass perfectly. He let out a quiet "fuck" and deactivated his suit, his hardening cock hitting the side of his stomach.

He spread his legs on the chair, rubbing the precum that was spilling out of his red tip around his cock, using it as lube. He started off slow, tentative, as he wrapped his hand tightly around his cock. He knew that you would feel a thousand times better than this, that your cunt would feel like heaven to him, but he was too turned on to think properly. He gripped his desk as he started speeding up, his hips bucking up into his hand to find some pressure. His eyes zeroed in on your chest once more and he let out a pathetic whimper, wondering how it would feel to see his cum lathered on top of the piercings.

He tightened his grip around his cock, like he wanted to imitate how tight your cunt would feel around him, but a nagging voice in his mind told him that it wouldn't compare. He pushed that voice out of his head in a desperation to cum, to go back to focusing on his work. He heard his watch going off and remembered he was supposed to be giving a brief on a plan to catch an anomaly, but he knew that if he stopped now, he'd just show up with a hard cock and a bitter attitude. He swirled his thumb around the tip, letting out a soft groan as he pictured you underneath him, licking and sucking him off. How pretty you would look with that eyeliner running down your cheeks, crying just from how big he was. He gripped the side of the table tightly, feeling his balls starting to tighten up.

His hips bucked up into his hand at an embarrassing speed, eager for that feeling of release. He tightened the grip around his cock, moving his hand faster as he let out a soft moan, his orgasm quickly approaching. He watched as you smiled through the monitors, thanking LYLA for the work she'd done and his orgasm washed over him like a tide. He looked down at the mess he'd created, shaking his head in disbelief as he grabbed a napkin from the desk. He cleaned his hand off along with his thigh, putting on some hand sanitizer. He had expected to feel some sort of relief, but he still found the need to have you underneath him overwhelming. He activated his suit once more and calmed down his breathing before walking over to the briefing room.

He felt ashamed as he walked inside, all the eyes in the room looking at him. to think that they were all in here waiting for him while he was in his office fucking his fist to the thought of having your cunt wrapped around his cock. He coughed, pushing those thoughts aside before he got a hard-on in front of his colleagues as he started to give everyone their reports. He ignored the complaining some of the members had, rubbing his forehead as he stayed behind. Jess looked back at him worriedly, but he shrugged her off, saying that he was fine. Which was relatively true, he had no reason to be upset, just the fact that he'd grown attracted to you and didn't know how to go about his feelings.

He spent a while in his office as thoughts of you crept in his mind, most of them were lewd but some of them were a bit more wholesome. He pushed those thoughts off as he bounced a ball, turning LYLA's access to his office back on when he heard a knock on the door. He opened up the door, seeing Peter standing there with Mayday crawling on his shoulders. Ah right, the lunch.

"So imagine my surprise when my best friend finally invited me to lunch," Peter began speaking as they walked down the hallways, his slippers squeaking against the floor. He wanted to toss those slippers away, wanted to tell Peter that he only did it because he didn't want to get caught, but he didn't have the heart to do that today. He, however, did have the heart to ignore the man as he talked and started to play peek-a-boo with Mayday. He felt a ghost of his smile on his lips when he heard Mayday's giggles echo through the room, catching her when she fell off Peter's shoulders.

Peter had settled on getting the 2099 meal, a burger with Miguel’s mask on there along with some fries and a drink. Miguel rolled his eyes as he sat down in front of Peter, his eyes darting towards the burger as he took a bite out of his empanada. "Capitalism," he muttered, shaking his head as Peter took a bite out of the burger. "Okay, so maybe it's overpriced for 20.99 but it's so cute. You truly win at life when you have a burger with your face on it," Peter spoke up, watching as Miguel’s eyebrow twitched a bit. Miguel stood up, partly because he didn't want to see that stupid burger anymore, but mostly because he realized he forgot to get a kid seat for Mayday. He put her on the seat, giving her small pieces of his empanada. Even though most of the crumbs ended up on her cheek and some in her hair, Miguel couldn't help but feel a bit happy when he saw her take bites out of it.

The lunch hadn't gone too bad, most of it was just spent with him feeding Mayday small pieces from his empanada while Peter talked. That was, until he heard your voice. He turned around to see you walk into the cafeteria with Hobie, carefree as you laughed at something he'd said. He saw Peter's eyes brighten up as he waved at you, shaking his head. He wasn't sure why he was so jealous of a man in a bathrobe, maybe it was because he wanted you to wave at him that way. To acknowledge his existence as something more than just an overbearing presence, to smile at him the way you did to others.

"Have you gotten a chance to talk to the new recruit yet?" Peter asked, snapping Miguel’s attention away from Mayday as he turned to look at him. "Uh yeah, we've ran into each other a few times. You?" Miguel responded, trying to keep his tone light and conversational so he'd get more information out of Peter. "I mean, yeah, she's a little intimidating and all with all those tattoos, But she's nice once you get to know her," peter replied, shrugging a bit as he spoke of you. Fuck, how Miguel wanted the opportunity to get to know you.

Over the course of a few days, he kept hearing about the other Spiders talking about you. He listened to the way that they spoke highly about you, how nice you were once those barriers were put down. He couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy that he was the only one you hadn't made an attempt to get to know, that you regarded everyone with a smile and a wave and regarded him with a roll of your eyes, like his sole existence plagued you. He had resisted at first, not wanting to open up your file so as to keep your privacy, but the more that he heard conversation about you, the more that he wanted to find out about you.

He opened up your file late at night when everybody had left, not even LYLA was around to be nosy. He hesitated for a moment when he got the file unlocked, wondering if violating your privacy was really worth all this trouble before deciding to do it. He knew that it would take a while for you to open up to him and he just had a itch, an itch to get to know you as much as possible. The contents of the file weren't really surprising, your canon events were the same as the other Spiders'. He looked over to see the file where you lost your boyfriend, the tears in your eyes visible even through the hologram. He bit down on his lip, his fangs gently digging in as he started to feel a bit guilty. That night he realized why you were so eager to make friends, that you'd come from a place of loneliness and no family at all.

Miguel had reached his breaking point when you no longer acknowledged his existence, you simply looked over to the person he was next to and greeted them before walking away. not even the occasional eye roll. He cornered you when you were on your way out of the cafeteria, caging you against the wall and his large body. He tilted your chin up so you'd look at him for once, his gaze completely neutral. "So tell me, why have you been ignoring me lately? You don't even scowl at me anymore," He asked, keeping his tone light as he watched your eyes widen with surprise. You hadn't thought he would notice. "I don't see why you care," you responded, shaking your head as you pushed his hand off your chin. You pushed his chest away from your body, walking off to catch up with Hobie who was watching the interaction.

"What was that about, mate?" Hobie asked with an amused smile, looking back at where Miguel was standing. Miguel had a scowl on his face, like he was jealous he couldn't maintain your attention. "I don’t know. He was asking why I was ignoring him but not sure why he even cares," you replied with a small shrug, watching Hobie’s eyes light up with some kind of interest. "You're blind if you haven't realized it by now," was all he offered though, leaving your mind running with what possibly he could be referring to. Hobie took you to the briefing room where you'd be receiving information for your next mission, Jess leading the meeting as she handed out some manila folders.

Miguel got the news that you were off on your first mission, so he decided he would show up after at your place to see how it had gone. That, and he wanted to apologize for his behavior. Apologizing wasn't something he was completely used to doing, but he was willing to put his pride to the side if it gave him the chance to have an actual conversation with you. He walked over to Jess when she came out of the portal, asking her about how the mission had gone and if anyone was hurt. To his relief, the mission had gone smooth and nobody had gotten injured.

Your first mission wasn't too hard, but you felt the soreness in your arms from swinging around. You immediately took a shower and changed into your pajamas when you got home as a means to relax. It was starting to get to you, pretending you were okay with the other Society members just to get them to like you. You got up when you heard your doorbell ring, putting on your webshooters since you weren't expecting any visitors. Your eyes widen when you saw Miguel standing outside, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm here to apologize. I'm sorry for the way that I cornered you earlier today and for the way that I’ve been treating you these past couple days. I also wanted to come see how you were doing," he spoke up after a while of silence, his eyes drifting off to the skimpy top you were wearing, focusing on your breasts. You quickly came to the realization of what Hobie was referring to, watching Miguel struggle to keep eye contact with you. "Did you really come here for that or for something else?" You asked, hooking a finger to the strap of your shirt as you toyed with it. His eyes followed every movement of your finger and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Tell me, Miguel, do I make you nervous?" You asked, tilting his chin down, the same he'd done to you. He nodded, flustered, as he stumbled over his words to come up with some sort of defense for himself. It was empowering, really, seeing your behemoth of a boss practically drooling over you.

"I have one condition if we're gonna do this, okay?" You spoke up when Miguel stepped into your apartment, folding your arms as you looked over at him. He looked so pathetic and needy, nodding like he would give you the moon if you asked for it. "Given some past experiences, I'm not really looking for a relationship. are you okay with this just being casual sex?" you asked, gauging for any reaction from Miguel. You blinked and he was right there on top of you, his lips crashing against yours. "I'll give you anything you want," he mumbled in between kisses, his pelvis thrusting against yours. You let out a soft moan as you felt his hands start to explore every inch of your body, his warmth almost setting a fire in his wake. He gently rolled the buds of your nipples in between his fingers, playing around with the piercings as he moaned. "Been thinking about these every time I cum," he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

He bit down on your neck, his fangs gently scraping against your skin as he did so, his tongue running over the bite to soothe the sting as his hand snaked its way to your pants. You let out a small whimper when you felt him cup your pussy, your hips bucking into his instinctively. "Looks like all I had to do was just fuck the attitude right out you, huh?" He whispered, his voice carrying a light tone of amusements as he gathered some slick with his pointer finger. He slowly thrust his finger in, pumping it in and out of you slowly. He continued his attack on your neck, leaving small hickeys as he kissed you. He knew that your accelerated healing wouldn't allow them to be visible tomorrow, but he enjoyed seeing some part of him marking you.

He eventually pushed his middle finger inside of your pussy as well, making a scissoring motion in efforts to open you up. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting your g-spot as you pushed your hips against his palm, hoping to get some much needed friction. You felt yourself getting closer to that brink of orgasm, only to get it pulled away from you. You turned around to look at Miguel, watching as he licked your slick off his fingers. "Only place you'll be cumming is around my cock."

The two of you eventually got your bedroom and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Miguel bumped his head against the ceiling. "You think that's funny?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice as he placed you on the bed. He was quick to disintegrate his suit, his cock hitting his stomach as the tip started to leak precum. "There's some condoms on the bedstand," you spoke up, remembering your policy for one night stands. He reached over, grabbing a condom from the box before getting an idea as he saw your vibrator. He turned it on the lowest setting, setting it against your clit without any pressure as he started to slide inside of you. He let out a moan as your walls engulfed him completely, every part of you was enticing to him. He started off slow, getting you accustomed to the size of his cock before applying more pressure to the vibrator.

You let out a moan as you felt the vibrations shoot straight to you, your hands gripping the sheets. You shivered a bit as you felt miguel's tongue all across your arms, licking as much of the tattoo designs as he could. Even with all that he was doing, he kept his pace steady and even. He used your flexibility to his advantage, placing your legs on his shoulders and the angle allowed him to hit deeper inside of you with no trouble. He started to speed up when he felt your walls clenching around him tightly, the vibrator hitting your clit directly. He pulled his cock completely out of you and just when you were about to complain from the loss of contact, he slammed it into you once more. He started fucking you with a new vigor, his thrusts quick and sloppy as he turned the vibrator on a higher velocity. You clenched around him tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your slick covering the condom completely.

Miguel flipped you over on all fours and he swore he could've come right there on the spot. He noticed that you had a couple other small tattoos on your back, but the one capturing his attention was the blue and red spider tramp stamp. He thrusted in you with ease, your previous orgasm providing him with all the lubrication he needed and he started off slow. He placed his hands on your hips, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy in the most delicious way possible. Miguel started speeding up, keeping his thrusts deep just to feel his tip hit your cervix. He placed the vibrator around your clit again, letting out soft moans of your name as he felt you shiver from the sheer intensity. You clamped tightly around his cock, your orgasm coming quicker than you expected with all the stimulation. Miguel let out a soft groan as you tightened around him, milking his cock for every drop. He filled the condom a few seconds later, delirious over the fact that he'd actually fucked you.

The two of you continued throughout the night, since you were one of the few people that could actually match Miguel’s stamina. You watched as he turned the suit back on the morning, and a part of you wanted to ask him to stay but you knew that wasn't what you told him. He leaned over, kissing you on the forehead before he opened the portal back to the Society.

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m0uchie · 18 days

Note

Same person from the fem!Scara question!! I don't want to pressure you much tbh so sorry if I do I really am 😭🙏

Maybe like fem!Scara x fem!reader and you can choose if you want it to be fluff or smut I don't really mind either whatever you feel more confident with!❤️

⟡ you hate her (do you really?), but she’s the only way you can get better grades

— pairing : f!scaramouche x f!reader

— warnings : NSFW; humping; fingering; semi-public?; scara’s a bit degrading (she might say something hurtful but she also calls you “love”)

— a/n : don't worry about it, you're not pressuring me!! ;) ISTG IT WAS GONNA BE FLUFF WITH SOME SMUT AND ANGST AND SLOWBURN, BUT I GOT TOO HORNY IM SORRY!!!

The classroom was a mess again.

Every time it ended up like this, no matter how many different classes the two of you had together, she always managed to make friends in all of them, and her charm attracted people of all genders to her table.

Not that this fact bothered you, since you didn't have many friends in college. But it was different when she always sat next to you and talked in the middle of classes to whoever was next to her.

“Ah… excuse me, do you have a pencil?” You sigh, watching the interaction unfold in front of you. Your left cheek resting on your hand, and a girl with long indigo hair turns with a bright smile to hand the pencil to the colleague next to you.

As always, you were right to assume that it wouldn't end there. Soon the girl starts chattering about her life, exchanging phone numbers with flushed cheeks and biting her lips as she twirls a strand of green hair around her index finger. Scaramouche just responded with a smile and a nod, as usual. She was aware of her attractiveness to both boys and girls, but fooling around wasn't her focus at the moment. That's what she always said.

It irritated you how uncommunicative she was and yet it made her one of the most famous people around campus. Known for her perfect shiny hair, clean and soft skin, big round eyes and lashes that made her look like a doll. In addition to the perfect grades she got in every subject. There was nothing she was bad at, and yet, she still managed to handle her time perfectly to be so social, while also studying to the point of fainting. You don't quite know why though.

But despite everything, you didn't blame her, because deep down you knew it was your fault for not being like her, not being her. She would never know what was going on in your head, nor you in hers. And you’d never expose your dark thoughts for others to hear knowing how wrong you were for thinking that way. You would just have to stay as far away from her as possible. It wasn't that difficult, was it?

So why were you in the library, hugging Scaramouche's arm between your legs like a whore? Begging her to help you with your grades while wiggling your ass and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes like it was just an innocent offer?

To Scaramouche, you were nothing less than an ant. Hiding in the corner and focusing on writing down every single word the teacher said. In any case, your grades always fell and hers went up. Your frustrated expression whenever you received the results of a test and the crumpling of your trembling hands on the paper gave you away. She didn't care enough though, it wasn't her problem.

The different could be said about you, and she could almost feel sorry for those deep dark circles and those teary eyes, accompanied by the wet panties of someone whose pussy hadn’t been touched by an experienced hand in oh so long and someone who was willing to give everything in exchange for better grades and lessons by Scaramouche.

Her silly fingers taking advantage to ghost lightly above your heat, wondering why you wore such short and revealing skirts when you were a complete prude known for rejecting so many guys, almost forgetting your hopeful face desperately waiting for an answer.

Scaramouche's smile makes you swallow hard. She doesn't give you any comfort, despite the words she utters: “let's meet in the study room from now on then. Give me your number so we can choose the days for our meetings.”

You should be relieved, you will no longer need to turn to such low measures to get some alone time with the girl. You thought. But was it right to assume that she wasn’t gonna ask anything in return just because she hadn't responded to your offer to do anything for her? This was too easy.

The days when you were in the study room were peaceful. No one could hear anything from outside, just as you couldn't hear anything happening outside the room. Scaramouche was patient and explained you carefully, you hung on every word and it often left your mind in the clouds.

“Getting distracted, are we?” She said the first time, which made your face blush. Since when could a woman's voice get into your mind like that?

Calm wasn't the right word to describe how she sounded to you, because what your body felt was a hint of anything but calm in those moments.

“I brought some sweets. You like them, don't you? Let's take a coffee break."

And every time you were distracted, she would fill you with sweets and talk to you, keeping the atmosphere easy going and comfortable.

The week for your finals was approaching. Your anxiousness distracted you even more when you met, and Scaramouche tried to be as patient as possible through it. But with things going on at home and having to force a smile on her face at college all the time, she was at her limit.

It happened quite often. She’d put up with a lot of bullshit and the patience you started to grow familiar with, would wear thin the moment you ask her to explain the subject to you one more again. She’d make you be the one to pay for her headache this time.

And you did.

“Getting distracted again, are we?” Something in her voice changed, you couldn't wrap your mind around what. Maybe the hint of cynicism, or the gravity in the gentle tone she always carried in her voice. Something changed.

“‘M sorry… I’ll do better.” You apologized for the nth time in the same day, making Scaramouche's eyelid twitch in irritation.

“Well, I didn’t bring any sweets this time, isn’t that such a shame?” You slowly nod when she doesn't continue her speech and looks at you as if waiting for an answer before getting up and walking around your chair, standing behind it. “I’ll have to keep you busy some other way. Always being a dead weight.” She muttered the last part, but you could hear it anyway. Your heartbeat increasing dangerously when she sighs and holds your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and turning it towards the giant mirror that was next to the study table.

“Weren’t you eager at first to give me something in return for teaching you? I want it now.” She demands, slowly releasing your face and reaching down to aggressively squeeze your breast through your clothes, making you gasp in surprise.

“You're so nervous that your nipples are hard all the time. Are you not aware of what a bra is, love?” Her hand makes space between the valley of your breasts. A tight strapless that made your torso so accessible to Scaramouche. Both for her touches and for her lustful eyes to see.

Her finger surrounds your hardened bud, while she lowers her other hand to your belly all the way to your pelvis and presses deliciously down there, making you throw your head back and lay on the girl's shoulder.

“If you eased your frustrations, you wouldn't be so worried about these stupid tests. Do you even touch yourself?” Your cheeks redden and you purse your lips together from embarrassment. “So… do you?” She asks again, clearly demanding an answer from you, and takes it as enough when you shake your head no.

“Too busy for that?” She scoffs, and all you want to do is stick your head under the ground. “It’s our break now, so you’re not wasting any time since we wouldn’t be studying right now anyway.”

She lifts your clothes over your breasts completely and takes off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties wetting the chair with the slick that coats your fabric.

“Look at this delicious tits…” she flicks your nipples between her fingers, getting your hips to press against your seat and your body squirm in need. “Always perk up like this or only when we meet?” She stares at you for a moment before laughing lowly. “You must not know, since you dress like a whore everywhere you go. And you still have to wonder why it attracts so much attention. Naive little thing.” You whine, pouting your lower lip and frowning to feign offense by her words, but it only makes her laugh.

Her hand goes down to caress the soaking area of what would be your panties, marked by your wet pussy, completely disabling the fabric and making you so uncomfortable under your clothes. Still, Scaramouche ignores your hopeless pleas to strip you out of your undergarments and start gently stroking your swollen clit. From time to time, squeezing it between her fingers to hear the sounds your mouth made. Your hand holds hers, trying to press it harder between your legs even though you feel instant shame the moment you see her smirk.

“Someone’s desperate. Go ahead and grind your little clit on my arm like you did that day, sweets.” She reminds you of the day you asked for her help in the first place, rubbing your clothed pussy against her arm when she just wanted to get a book. Likewise, you do as she asks, using both hands to hold her arm still and play with your clit on her soft skin.

The way you scrunch your beautiful face as she goes back to holding your face with one hand tightly so that you are forced to look at your reflection as you cover her arm with your juices, tears running down your face that drives her absolutely crazy to see the results inside your lacy panties. She reaches the limit when she hears you begging: “p-please, wanna cum so bad.” And press your hole to her fingertips in what would be a failed attempt to tear the fabric that separated the two of you.

“Shhh, let me see what you’ve done.” She tells you, kissing your temple and slipping down your underwear to take a look at your clenching walls. It takes her everything not to just fuck you with her skillful tongue right there, but she’s not giving you this time that easily.

With a goodbye kiss and perhaps a “see you another day” on your clit, she turns her head away from your intimacy. You don't even have time to reason and be disappointed before you feel her fingers playing with your entrance again, opening you up to the mirror and exposing everything to the two of you. Your essence went from your insides to down your ass, your aching red clit and your hole dying to be filled and she wasn’t gonna keep it from being played with.

You cover her mouth with awe as she circles your entrance with a finger, pushing it all the way in and keeping it there.

“Ohhh, it went right in~” she teases. “Can you take two at once?” And adds another one right after, without waiting for a response.

Your swollen bud remains ignored for a while, her fingers making long, deep back-and-forth movements quickly, only slamming her palm against the button for a second before pulling away. Wet noises were emitted by the amount of essence that came out of your pussy until Scaramouche was satisfied and pressed her palm on your clit to make delicious circles while her fingers explored your intimacy.

“You want to get off that badly, so I’m giving you what you want now.” She says, fresh breath hitting your neck from behind, kissing and nibbling the skin when she can. You moan loudly and turn your hand to hold onto the collar of her shirt, clenching harder around her fingers and biting your lower lip to suppress a scream when you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.

“Don’t hurt yourself like that, love.” She warns you, but your mind is too foggy to even focus on what's going on right now.

Clicking her tongue with impatience, Scaramouche lowers her head in front of your face and collides her lips with yours at the same time she buries her knuckles deep into your hole.

Your moans vibrate against her mouth as she swallows your beautiful sounds with her tongue. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches and more tears fall down your face the moment you cum.

She does not hesitate to get down on her knees and lick everything off of you and her fingers before standing up, despite your strong grip on her shirt that tells her not to go away like that.

“You’ll have to do better next time so I can reward you then.” She fixes her tie in front of the mirror and throws her soft hair back, not knowing how excited for the next study session she was making you.

The question after all is: you wanna be her or do you wanna be hers?

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#꒰ requests ꒱ྀི #+18 content #fem!scaramouche #f!scaramouche #scaramouche au #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

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infiniteimaginings · 29 days

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Begging for a part two of that angsty Percy fic😭😭😭 plz remind me if you do end up posting one

It’s just dull. (Book!Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Percy broke up because he gave more attention to Annabeth than he ever did to you. You were done and he wants to prove to you that he still cares about you. Will you hear him out? Part One: Who’s in this relationship? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: There's a suicidal thought near the end, we don't go much into it though, but warning for it. (It's brief) Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I have heard your prayers, believe me I have (see below this a/n) (there's even more since I made this). Here is the very requested part two to ‘Who’s in this relationship?’ I will tell you guys, there was no intention for this to have a part two, but there is one now, because I love you guys! Enjoysies! (For anyone just joining us, you can read this stand alone, you don't really have to read part one to understand what's going on, it's explained well here.)

It had been two weeks since you left Percy by the now defiled space that once belonged to only the two of you. The sacred place where you would sneak kisses, have picnics, stargaze, listen to the ocean or each other's breathing. The place you considered safe because he was always there with you.

A place that was no longer safe because he invited Annabeth Chase to the one area of camp the two of you had away from prying eyes.

At the abandoned building, on the almost caved in roof, the daughter of Athena sat next to the son of Poseidon. He was sprawled out on his back, silent as he looked to the stars draped over the night sky, lighting their vision. Well, his vision because Annabeth was far more interested with her shoelaces.

She was picking at the aglets, peeling the plastic off and chewing at her lip, deep in thought. The sound of the ripping plastic caught the attention of the raven haired boy next to her who looked over lazily, his expression generally neutral. He raised a brow, lifting himself so he would be leaning on his elbows, the roof tiles digging into his skin.

Annabeth heard the sound of his shifting so she looked over, her stormy gray eyes meeting his deep green ones. He gently smiled at the eye contact but she looked away, hugging her knees to her figure.

Percy blinked in slight surprise at the reaction, “What’s wrong?” He asked her, now sitting up entirely, body facing her. The sound of his voice caused the girl now in front of him to sigh, face turning to him.

Her eyes were sad, she was chewing at her lip, fidgeting with her hands. Before she could even speak, as if Percy knew exactly what she was communicating, he put his face into his hands. He sighed heavily, pushing his hair back, now looking to the sky.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about her too.” He mumbled out, eyes for some reason refusing to look at Annabeth.

“She was right…” Annabeth spoke, looking up to the stars as well.

“About?”

She gulped, blinking her eyes rapidly to stop from tearing up, “None of this is fair to her.” She told him honestly, her voice so soft the air could barely pick it up to reach Percy's ears.

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the words, he knew it wasn’t fair. He knew what you said was true, he just couldn’t accept it. He had known Annabeth since day one of being at camp, he hung out with her a lot. He couldn’t see the problem until you were gone and he found himself missing you more than usual, a feeling he never had before which led him into a spiral of questions about all he never noticed.

He could’ve argued, he could’ve said that none of it made sense. He could’ve said none of it was true but instead all that left his lips was a whisper. He pulled his knees up, dropping his head to them, “I know.”

Annabeth stood on the roof, the tiles slightly shaking but she paid no attention to it. She just looked at Percy. She didn’t brush herself off, she didn’t fidget with her hands, she was still and silent.

When Percy looked up from his sat position, he inhaled sharply at the serious expression on the blonde's face. Annabeth was frowning a bit, her eyes were watery, but they were narrowed a bit.

She looked away, sniffling, before looking back to the boy in front of her. “This isn’t fair to her.” She repeated to him, her voice airy. “After what happened, I just…” She paused, tongue poking the inside of her cheek, “You still bringing me up here always makes me want to puke.” She spoke simply, shrugging at her own words.

Percy's eyes slightly widened, his eyes reddening at the rims. He furrows his brows at her words, “I…” He couldn’t finish his own thought because if he was being honest, seeing Annabeth there made bile rise from his throat everytime he looked at her. It felt wrong, as if you placed different characters in each other's stories and expected them to move along.

The girl nodded, “Yeah, it makes me feel,for lack of a better description, physically ill.” She continued on, swallowing harshly, eyes clearing up a bit. She gently crossed her arms, not of anger or waiting, as if she was crossing them to warm herself though it wasn’t cold. “You brought me somewhere that was just for the two of you, and I know if I was your girlfriend, that would be it for me too.” She explained honestly, frowning deeply as she shook her head, Percy staring at her quietly. Annabeth kicked her foot on the roof softly, barely grazing the tile. She looked to the tile so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes again, “I do like you Percy.”

Those five words were five words that Percy thought he would be ecstatic about. Twelve year old him would’ve been utterly buzzing, but years later, he doesn’t feel anything to them. When she said them he scowled a bit, not realizing, but he fixed his expression when he noticed, grateful she wasn’t looking at him.

Annabeth continued on, “But, after all this…” She inhaled deeply, hand on her chest to control her own breathing. “After all this, I am disappointed in myself.” She spoke, nodding, finally meeting his eyes again. “I’m disappointed in myself for even being a part of this, and I can’t do this with you and feel comfortable.” Her words were echoing, for Percy at least. She kept talking, walking to the ladder but her words were merged together and muffled. Before he knew it, he had no sight of the golden haired girl who was just sitting next to him.

Another week passed and Percy was nowhere to be found, to the point that some campers were worried. So worried that they would go to archery practice, find you, and ask you where he was.

Everytime a young camper would approach you while you held your bow and arrow, drawn into position, asking about Percy, you would release your hand. Your arrows would wisp through the air, piercing through the cloth target with such a force it almost tears in half somehow. You would turn to them, eyes in a glare as you seethed for the millionth time in the past few days, ”I don’t know.”

One of these days you were practicing archery, some of your friends call it releasing frustration, you call it practice.

One of those days as you were practicing, your bow was at your side, you were turned to get more arrows until you noticed they were gone. You huffed, rubbing your eyes. You had no idea how long you had been out there, but it had to be a while if there were no arrows left. You turned back to face the target to walk over and grab the discarded practice arrows until you were making eye contact with someone.

This person had gray eyes, they flickered from your eyes to lower. You followed the line of sight and they were holding all of your discarded arrows.

“I thought you might need these.” Annabeth spoke quietly, a gentle smile on her face, but it was clear she was nervous. She held the arrows out, stepping back a bit as if she were presenting a crown to royalty.

You clasped the arrows in your hands, putting them in your bag. “Thanks.” That was all you said, you readied your bow, back to her, counting your arrows because if you didn’t some of the people in Apollo cabin were going to be very upset with you.

Footsteps didn’t retreat in any sort of direction so you licked your lips and turned to face the girl still standing in the same spot. Your mouth was in a tight lipped smile, eyes darting around, “Can I help you?” You asked her, brows slowly furrowing.

She puffed air through her cheeks, eyes wide as she blinked, seemingly thinking about something. In the silence you just nodded and went to turn back to your arrows until you heard, “I’m so sorry.” suddenly blurted from her lips.

You faced her once more with a raised brow, lips slightly parted. You were clueless to what was going on so you kept looking around to see if she was being forced to say these things or something. No one else was around, it was just the two of you. You closed your mouth before putting your bow down, “For what, exactly?”

“Everything. Percy, the abandoned building, all that time. It…” She paused, looking down, “It wasn’t fair to you.” She continued to apologize, rambling about everything she was sorry for but when she looked back up to you, you were just confused with a small smile on your face. She quickly shut up and her facial expression morphed into one of slight horror of your chuckle leaving your lips.

You shook your head, “Annabeth, I’m not mad at you.” You assured her, hands on your hips, eyes crinkling slightly. The blonde girl in front of you tilted her head, arms dropping to her sides, “You’re not?” She asked, now genuinely confused.

Now, Annabeth was a nice girl, she was so intelligent, incredibly kind. She didn’t defile the secret held space by being herself, she was a friend to you. She didn’t defile the space, Percy did. She wasn’t the reason the space was longer safe or comforting, Percy was.

You shook your head at her once again, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, rubbing it gently. “I understand how it feels to have a connection with someone.” You explained to her, your words caused her to look at you softly. “I know how long you’ve liked him, I’m not blaming you. You can’t control how you feel.” You shrugged, frowning a bit and she mirrored your expression.

Her whole body seemed to fall into itself as she hiccuped slightly, “I feel terrible.” She mumbled, twisting the tip of her shoes into the grass nervously. You patted her shoulder, placing your head into her gaze so she would look at you. “You didn’t force him to choose you.” You said, the words made Annabeth go silent, as if she went through her mind to find how she did.

Nothing in her memories supported such a thing.

You smiled at the small spark of understanding in Annabeth's expression. “He made the choice to choose you over me, no one told him to do that.” You continued on, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This all felt like a weight on your chest you just needed off so you could breathe without struggle. “He decided to let his girlfriend be a second thought, you didn’t control his thoughts.”

There was more silence, you didn’t know what to say to her then. So, you just adjusted her necklace and told her to be careful, your friendly eyes just made her feel guiltier. She apologized again and you took hold of her hands.

“No, I’m sorry.” You told her, the words were confusing to her, but she would understand soon enough. “I hope he doesn’t do whatever it was he did with me, to you. You deserve better than that Annabeth.” You nodded as you spoke so she would understand she doesn’t need to stay with someone who doesn’t cherish her.

She frowned and scrunched her nose awkwardly, “We aren’t…um..”

“You decided not to?”

“I didn’t think it would be right.”

You nodded with a small hum, looking at the sky, mindlessly rubbing the backs of her hands with your thumbs. You had to squint due to the brightness of the sun before looking back to the girl who was looking right at you. “Well, you might’ve made the right choice.” You told her, letting go of her hands and turning back to your arrows, packing them up. You gathered your things, walking away, “You’re smart Annabeth, you make smart decisions.” You announced to her a little loud since there was distance between the two of you.

Annabeth didn’t run after you, when you walked away without looking back she turned around. Your backs were facing each other as you both walked away, distancing more and more. She knew this was distance, she knew that you might not ever talk to her the same way. What she also knew was that it wasn’t because you hated her, it was because you knew what was best for the both of you. You knew she was wise and could move forward with the knowledge that you weren't upset. She knew something about you too, she knew that you seemed more content than you were before, and that thought made her steps a little lighter as she walked away.

After the conversation with Annabeth, about a day or two later you felt better. Not completely, of course, but better in a sense you didn’t have to place your anger in archery that day. You went to the lake, walking across the beachside to admire some wild flowers that grew around. You wanted to see if you could find some of the flowers that a few of the demeter kids made grow on the beachside (somehow).

You walked slowly, observing the area quietly. No one was around, everyone was at training, in their cabins, or in the plaza. You enjoyed these quiet moments to yourself where you didn’t need to be angry, where you didn’t need to be anything.

As you continued on you closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of the ocean. It was peaceful. Well, peaceful until you felt a cold, wet hand on your shoulder.

It startled you so much to the point you jumped, twisting the hand, turning and kicking the person in their stomach out of pure reflex. It terrified you for someone to suddenly sneak up on you, for all you knew it could’ve been a surprise duel, so you have to stay on guard.

When you turned around to see who decided to grip your shoulder instead of just calling your name you were met with the sights of Percy Jackson. He wore his camp halfblood shirt and some jeans, soaking wet with ocean water. His hair was stuck to his forehead from how it was drenched. None of that matter though because he was clutching his stomach and his arm, the action making you roll your eyes.

“I deserved that.” He grunted out, shaking his arm and taking a deep breath, smiling at you sheepishly.

You stared at him blankly, “There are other ways to get a girl's attention you know, like saying her name, yelling something, or even standing in front of her.” You told him, crossing your arms. “Those options wouldn’t have ended in,” You waved your hand to him, “that.”

Percy winced at how you reacted and rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry, I saw you and just had to talk to you. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” You told him with a sigh, “Where did you even see me fro…” You trailed off, looking at him closely and then seeing how close you were to the water. “You’ve been in the ocean all this time?” You asked with a quizzical look. He looked, just as confused, shaking his head. “I’ve been in my cabin, I usually come out here for about an hour.” He explained, tilting his head at what you were implying but, he decided not to question it.

He rubbed his nose a bit, his cheeks and nose were pink, probably from the sudden hit he took from you. He bit his lip, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“We are talking.” You spoke bluntly, unsure of why you guys were talking.

Percy smiled a bit at your comment due to him feeling suddenly uncomfortable, but he took the chance anyway, “I messed up.” He told you and you nodded. He waited for you to say something but you blinked at him, he continued, hoping his words would get a response from you. “I didn’t treat you with the respect you deserved, with the love and care you deserved.” He told you gently, green eyes looking at you through his lashes like a sad puppy.

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes, “Yeah, you're right.” You emphasized your nods. “You didn’t treat me with the respect I deserved which is exactly why you can go be with someone else.” You told him, unsure of what he wasn’t getting because he was staring at you dumbly.

His eyes were big, his lips parted, his cheeks pink. He looked like a little kid who just got in trouble for accidentally renting a movie for an extra day. His facial expression transformed from an innocent trouble maker to a frustrated teen. He huffed into his hands, putting them on the back of his neck, “How many times do I need to say I’m sorry for you to just…listen?” He asked you, exasperated for gods know whatever reason.

Your eyes lidded, your mouth in a thin line. You refused to give him any sort of reaction. “How about we start with once and see where we get from there since you haven’t said it yet.” You told him, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. It wasn’t a suggestion either, your tone proved that. You crossed your arms, body tilting to the side as you blinked, waiting.

Percy realized in this moment, he messed up, again. He didn’t know how to make things right. You knew he always thought he messed things up, but usually you were by his side reassuring him of things. That people are human, have feelings, make mistakes. How does he prove he’s not a huge mistake when he messed up by letting you go? By hurting you? There’s no one to hold his hand through this.

He nodded, swallowing hard, looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked,his breathing became uneven. “While you aren’t around, I feel like my lungs are filled with water.” He explained quietly, looking at the sand.

You thought the sentiment could come from poetry, the words deep with meaning...from anyone else. This is from the son of Poseidon, so it only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth rather than warmth in your heart. Why? You looked to the water, back to him, “It’s a good thing you can breathe in water then.” That’s why, the son of Poseidon will never know the feeling of water filling his lungs.

Percy clapped his hands together, “Okay, I don’t even know what to say anymore because of that.” He told you, deep frown on his face, his eyes getting a bit darker.

You walked a little closer to him as he ran his hand through his wet hair, moving it from his eyes. “Do you really want me to tell you how I’m feeling right now, in this moment?” You asked him seriously, and he nodded feverishly. “Please, just give me something.” He begged, his eyes pleading for some sort of emotional response, his hands quivering to stop himself from taking yours in his.

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

You repeated yourself, “I don’t care.”

Percy laughed from slight annoyance, scratching his cheek, “Yeah, I heard you the first time.” He told you seriously, his irritation clear in his words. “Can you elaborate?” He asked slowly, blinking at you, trying to understand what you meant.

You tilted your head in though, not making eye contact. It wasn't because you were scared, it was because you didn’t owe him an intimate moment, you didn’t even owe him this conversation. You clasped your hands together, letting them fall in front of your figure. “Percy,” you began, looking at the boy who desperately waited for you to speak to him, “when you’re in a relationship with someone who decided to share all the special moments you guys have with someone else, the feeling dulls after a while.” You explained, moving on your heels a bit, moving your head to see if he understood.

He stayed silent, his posture straightening, his eyes blinking slowly.

“After we broke up, it didn’t take very long to get myself back up.” You told him since your breakup was only about a month ago, “You practically prepared me during our relationship.” You thought about it aloud and realized how bad it really sounded.

Percy seemed to realize that too as he tried to sputter out a response of how he didn’t mean to but you stopped him. “Unintentionally, intentionally, inadvertently, it doesn’t matter, I don't care.” You told him once more, unclasping your hands to shrug a bit.

The wind blew, ruffling you guys’s shirts.

“You don’t care.” Percy spoke quietly, voice deep with heartache.

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes and tried to shake them away, blink them back. “I love you Percy.” You told him, the words weren’t spilling out your mouth you meant to say that. He looked a little hopeful at your words but when you bit your lip and your eyes glossed over he knew there was nothing good for the two of you. “The hurt may have dulled, but it’s still there and it will always be there.”

Percy nodded, sighing out as his own eyes filled with tears, slowly turning red.

You looked at him still, the eye contact was unbearable, causing your chest to tighten but you couldn’t look away. “I don’t forgive you.” You told him honestly, he nodded, a tear falling as he bit the inside of his cheek. You continued on, wiping your hands on your pants, “And I’m told to be the bigger person and forgive people so that what they did isn’t always on my mind.” You explained, your throat felt like it was closing, your voice got a little higher in pitch but Percy never looked away. “But I will never forget.”

His jaw tightened as he tried to bite back his tears, using his palm to wipe the stray few on his cheeks away.

“I will never be able to forget how you kept me near you, and let Annabeth get just as close to you.” Your sob choked your words but he could still hear them, your hands were in fists at your side. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of him, but if you didn’t it would just fester up inside you and create an ugly version of yourself. A version you would hate looking at.

Percy tried to speak, “I-”

“Please don't interrupt me,” You began, mouth tightened, brow knitted, “because you’ve spent way too long not listening to me and I’ve spent way too long just letting it go.” Your voice was hoarse, trying not to cry and it just made Percy want to crawl into himself.

For once he wished he couldn’t breathe underwater, because nothing in camp half blood could’ve prepared him for the biggest monster of all. He felt like the biggest monster he’s ever faced because how could he hurt someone like you? How could he make the girl of his dreams cry? How could he cause so much pain, so much hurt, so much heartbreak and not even notice? For once he hated that the water could heal him, because he did not deserve it.

As much as he wanted your words to muffle, as much as he didn’t want to hear what you were saying he had to.

“I don't know what you think I am.” You suddenly said, taking a deep breath, palm tapping at your chest to calm yourself.

“What?”

You sucked your teeth for a moment, “I supported you, fought for you, killed for you.” You listed to him, nodding with each word. “But Percy.. I am not your fan.” You told him, eyes staring straight into his, your head shaking, corners of your mouth deeply turned downwards. You could tell you were going to cry, but at the same time it seemed like no tears would fall.

Percy huffed, crossing his own arms, sand and water making it uncomfortable but he had bigger worries. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked you seriously, gritting his teeth together.

“It means that I didn't do those things because I thought you were cool and admired you.” You explained simply, telling him the truth. “I did those things because I genuinely cared about you.”

“I know that.”

Your head tilted, “Really?” You asked, before he could speak you waved your hand, “Because you treated me like some girl who was following you around and would do anything for you because you looked at me.” You told him, eyes narrowed, only a slight sniffle leaving you.

He walked towards you, trying to speak, but you packed away, hands moving back to cross each other in a closed off manner.

“So many people thought I just had a hopeless crush on you because you treated me like a stranger.” You told him, the words were sharp and cut right through him. His eyes were wide, the whole conversation, his mouth was opening and closing, he didn’t know what to say. You did though, “You didn't talk about me, you didn't hold me in public, we were never together… physically.” You explained and Percy just shook his head.

He may have been physically denying it but he knew it was true, he knew what he did, he knew he was wrong.

He wanted to explain, he wanted you back, he wanted you but you were so far away. You were standing right in front of him and somehow he couldn’t reach you, and it was torture.

You looked away, turning around, wiping your eyes, “I don’t want to have this conversation again.” You mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. “If I’m being honest, I don’t want to talk to you at all, ever again.” You told him, beginning to walk away.

Percy didn’t try to chase after you, stood at the beach, watching your figure get further and further away. He lost you, he tried to get you back and lost you even more.

Percy Jackson was never really good at anything on purpose. He was chosen for a great quest at twelve to retrieve a bolt he never even stole, he stopped a war, he was a hero for years because he saved everyone over and over again.

Who saved Percy though? You did. Now, he didn’t have you and he felt as if every piece of darkness held in crevices you shined with light, was now taking over the corners of his mind, slowly spilling everywhere. He didn’t know what to do without you.

Percy Jackson was a hero, but without you, he’d rather leave the world to die.

#Percy jackson #Percy Jackson fanfiction #Percy Jackson x reader #book!Percy jackson #book Percy jackson #book percy jackson x reader #book!percy jackson x reader

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swanlakebaby · 1 month

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— car sex vol. 2 | pjm

prompt: car sex w/ jimin (again)

⸝⸝ pairing: bf!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: bj, car sex, bf jimin, accidental creampies, soft kisses, smut

⸝⸝ word count: 1.7k

⸝⸝ note: i didn’t mean to be gone for literally so long wtf 😭 but im back now! i’m going to be working on the requests people sent me :) but feel free to send more if you have ideas! i wanted to get this done before answering requests since i’ve been gone for almost 2 weeks now.

i’m still getting adjusted to posting my writings so i still feel hesitant to be extremely nsfw on here but a lot of the requests are really good so in my next ffs i’ll start adding dialogue during smut scenes! i hope u enjoyed this one though 🙂

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

tiny raindrops tap against the window of the car as it rains outside. jimin hums in boredom , his fingers hitting against the driving wheel , following the rhythm of his hums. you sit in the passenger seat , staring out of the window. the city lights are blurred by the raindrops , but you continue to stare out anyway. your jeans felt sticky against your skin as they were soaked with rain water. just a few minutes prior did you have to hurry and run to the car in order to avoid getting soaked even more.

you and jimin were on the way to meet up with your other friends a few cities over. the road trip was a drag , and felt like it would go on forever. unexpectedly , jimin places a cold hand on your thigh , making you shiver. he notices and takes his hand off , looking at you for a split second and giving you a soft reassuring smile.

you weren’t sure that you’d want to attend this get together with your friends. but after much consideration and begging from jimin , you eventually gave in. he was always trying to get you out of your comfort zone , which was one of the things you liked about him. you truly believed that had you not met him , you’d probably be locked in your apartment and bored out of your mind.

the cold AC air hits against your soaked jeans , making you even more cold now. you shut off the AC and begin slipping off your pants. jimin looks over with a confused expression on his face. “that gas station stop got my pants wet. can you reach the bag from the seat behind you?” you ask him. he comes to a stop at a red light and turns his body around to attempt to reach the bag. he grabs its handles with his fingers , but the bag slips through and falls onto the ground. “goddamnit” he says , turning back around. “i’ll pull over.”

when the light turns green , he pulls over to a nearby street , putting the car in park. you get out of the car and walk to the other side where jimin sat , looking in the side mirrors and watching you. you open the door and bend over into the car , reaching for the bag. you quickly rummage through it for a pair of dry shorts , when you hear jimin get out of the car and close the door.

you feel a loud smack against your butt and giggle. “get back in the car , you’ll get wet!” you tell him , throwing the shorts into your seat. “hand me a towel then.” jimin says. “you got out of the car for that?” you shake your head , grabbing a towel and tossing it to him. he hops back into the car and you do the same. you also slide off your panties as they’re now soaked too and put on the shorts. “stop getting undressed in front of me.” jimin says , patting your thighs.

“are you twelve? seeing a girl naked scares you? afraid you’ll get cooties?” you say , throwing your head back in laughter. “that’s not why.” jimin says grinning. you roll your eyes , knowing what he’s implying. “how about you just focus on getting us to mirages house.” you point ahead at the road. “what’re you going to do?” jimin says suggestively. “me? im going to stare out of the window and listen to my podcast.” you wave your phone by the side of his face , reclining your seat.

“sometimes i wonder how someone can be as dorky as you.” he says. you furrow your eyebrow. “you shouldn’t be talking.” “i’m not dorky.” jimin protests. “right.” you scoff. he looks over at you. “what does that mean?”

you turn to face him , “you literally giggle like a school girl compliments you. plus , don’t you remember how red you’d get when i’d kiss you when we first got together? you’re a dork. i rest my case.” you turn on your phone. “i’m not , i’m just charming.”

you look at him , playfully disgusted. “even you know that’s a lie.” “what?!” he reaches over tickling you between your thighs. you feel ticklish and begin to laugh. “i take it back! you’re so annoying!” you grab onto his wrist. “thank you.” he grins mischievously , not taking his eyes off of the road.

—

about an hour later , you feel drowsy and wanted nothing more than to take a quick nap. as you’re almost asleep , you feel the car stop. jimin puts the car in park and reclines the seat. he sees you open your eyes. “i’m taking a quick eye break. we’ll be back on the road in like 15 minutes.” he says reassuringly.

you nod , closing your eyes once again. suddenly , he whispers your name. “hm?” you say tiredly. “i’ve been holding it all day.”

you laugh. “we’re parked , there’s trees all around us. you do the math.” “i don’t have to pee.” you quickly realize what he means and look down at his pants. the car is dark , but you can tell he’s hard. you almost want to laugh at the sudden shift of energy. you stretch rubbing your eyes and rubbing his thigh. “you’re unbelievable.” you say. “i’m not saying you have to do anything.” he says , becoming embarrassed.

you smile , noticing his embarrassment. you begin to rub his pants , watching as he tenses up. he slowly pulls down his pants and boxers , his hard cock springing up. you take off the shorts you had just put on and somehow climb into the drivers seat. an accidental honk goes off , causing you both to laugh quietly. you stuff your face into his neck , adjusting yourself into him. he holds onto your hips as you slowly slide down on his cock.

the rain seems more violent now , as cars swish past the car at a high speed , unaware of what you were doing in the car. you sit still for a moment , afraid of moving. you hold jimin close to you , kissing his neck softly. he wraps himself around you , slowly rubbing your back from underneath your shirt. you didn’t really have sexual inter course as often until you got with jimin , and your body was still getting used to it.

jimin slowly grinds you on him , taking things slow. you follow his motion , sitting up and resting your elbow on the driving wheel. jimin grazes your stomach with his hands. you feel uncomfortable , not liking the awkward position. jimin taps your sides , motioning for you to get up. you crawl back into the passenger seat , moving your hair out of your face. you get on the seat , propping yourself up with your knees before bending forward. you grab his cock and stuff it into your mouth.

he softly exhales and places his cold hand on the back of your neck. your head bobs up and down as you suck him off. this part of him feels warm compared to the rest of his body. jimin reaches over and rubs your butt softly , before giving it a harsh smack. you jolt forward at the sudden sting and he does it again and again until he’s satisfied. he grabs onto your neck and takes his cock out of your mouth.

you begin to pump him and his chest becomes heavier as his breathes become deeper and huskier. he slightly bends over , kissing the top of your head as you look at him lovingly. he grabs onto your wrist and reclines the seat even further , patting his thigh.

you crawl back into his lap once again. this time , he easily slides into you. he lifts his legs up , beginning to fuck you , holding onto your body. you take off your shirt and toss it aside , revealing your breasts. your nipples are hard and cold. jimin grabs onto your left breast , licking it in circular motions , not slowing down.

your eyes are half lidded , enjoying the feeling of being fucked. you grab onto the head rest behind jimin’s head as you use it to fuck your self onto jimin. he stops , letting you take control. he holds onto the bottoms of your thighs , moaning and cursing under his breath. you beg him to go faster , not wanting him to stop.

sticky sounds can be heard beneath you as your cream begins to coat his cock. he looks up at you , pleasure in his eyes. he holds onto you , stopping for a moment in fear of accidentally cumming inside of you. you smile , wrapping your arms around his neck and slowly grinding on him , rotating your hips. this motion makes him curse as he digs his nails into your hips. you grab his wrist , the pain of his nails in your skin gives you a burning feeling.

without warning , jimin lets out a load moan , his eyes fluttering open as his body goes still. you giggle , feeling as he fills you up. he curses , running his hand through his hair , out of breath. he grabs into your butt , lifting you up and sliding out of you carefully. you hold onto his neck , hovered above his lap , as you feel his cum slide out of you.

you get back into the passenger seat , naked and out of breath. jimin pulls up his pants and starts the car back up , ignoring the cum on the seat. his breath is heavy and his face shows a tired expression. you sit back on the seat , not moving to put your clothes back on. you slowly rub on your stomach , your legs closed tightly , looking out of the window at the darkness and rainy night.

written by swanlakebaby™

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queenie-the-court-jester · 1 month

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Cult of the sacrificial lamb ♡

a/n: there is no actual lamb cult, I just like the title 😭 nsfw, mentioning their cock and titty sizes lmao

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★poka and juniper the Valais black nose's: the twins are inseparable. You need to bathe one but it's not the other's bath time yet? Suck it up then, 'cause they're both going in the tub now. No guarantee you won't get splashed with water. Poka is colorblind, and juniper is.. interesting. Who knows what's wrong her. The only way you can tell the difference between them is through their eyes. Who's blind and who isn't.

Physical appearance: they're both dark skinned with loosely curly black hair. At this point you should give them a haircut. Juniper has green eyes and poka has blue eyes. Juniper is 130 lbs, while poka is 120 lbs. (Juni's packing some pretty big milkers, DD cup bra. Poka got a 6 incher) 5'5

★violet the harri: violet is a little violent. Her name suits her. Kinda. You could be busy doing your chores and she'd tackle whoever decided to come within a 15 foot radius of your location. She likes to bite too, they out multiple muzzles on her only for her to chew through them. She's only ever docile with you, kinda. Just ignore the multiple bite marks around your arms.

Physical appearance: B cup, 140lbs, white long hair, pale as fuck, and violet eyes, 5'3

★azucar the Columbia sheep: I was hesitant to put azucar here since she's 17, legally a minor. I won't do any nsfw content with her because it makes me uncomfy. She can be the sweetest hybrid you ever met or the meanest. No in-between. Her moods flip like a light switch, unpredictable. She'll cuss you out in Spanish and then t-bag you. Talk about a hormonal teenager

Physical appearance: c cup, 137 lbs, curly white hair, pale skin, black eyes, 5'4

★wehrner the American black belly: he has daddy vibes, like he could bend you over his knee and spank your ass because you didn't address him as 'sir'. Bastard. You often catch him shamelessly fapping behind a tree in the fields, even when you freeze and stare at his impressive dick he doesn't stop, instead, inviting you to join him. And that's the story of how he got the cone of shame.

Appearance: 8 incher, 150 lbs, 5'7, long black and brown hair, grey eyes, peach skin, large horns curled around his ears

★Sally the angora goat: 'it's earthworm Sally! Carrying diseases from Florida to Cali!' That is her theme song fr. She's been fooling around with the neighboring farm's ram's so much you doubt she isn't carrying a couple STDs and maybe rabies too. Although she is very bubbly and cheerful, she just starts so much unnecessary drama with the other animals

Appearance: curly long white hair, pale skin, red eyes, D cup, 120 lbs, 5'6

★opal the Tennessee fainting goat: she's so tiny, and mean. She bit your ass and chest so many times you're always looking around your surroundings before entering the fields. Although recently you discovered a rather popular way to stun her and run away

Appearance: black straight hair (I bet she has split ends), peach colored skin, tiny horns on her head, 90 lbs, 4'10, A cup

★sasha the Australian cashmere goat: Sasha is quiet and stoic, but she doesn't hesitate to step in Incase somebody wants to start a fight. She's Kim's second favorite female (you're the first ofcourse)

Appearance: fluffy platinum blonde hair, pale skin, black eyes, small horns sprout from her head, B cup, 152 lbs, 5'9

★kim the dutch landrace goat: Kim can either be your angle or your debil. Yes that misspelling was intentional. More than once has he tried humping you, even convincing the girls to try and help him, except you keep running away. STOP RUNNING AWAY. Is it so bad he wants to impregnate you with his children!?

Appearance: long silky black-blond hair, bro is ripped, large horns curl around his head, 160 lbs, 5'11, 7 incher

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muwapsturniolo · 2 months

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✯Sturniolos as Half-bloods✯

Goddess version

God version

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Chris would be the son of Aphrodite

Aphrodite is the goddess, of love, beauty, and desire. I think it makes perfect sense for him to be her son. I could see him always wearing some shade of pink (preferably a baby pink), pearl earrings, and just being the most wholesome person ever. He already is wholesome (besides the times when he is being an absolute menace) but it would definitely be elevated. With his mother being the goddess of love and beauty, he would do his best to ensure everyone feels loved and beautiful. Being stationed in camp half-blood, he would give all the girls flowers, brightening up their day and complimenting them on their beauty. When it comes to males, he would hype them up and play cupid, encouraging them to talk to the girls/males they have a crush on.

His cabin is number ten, and I would imagine it to be right by the water, the sun always shining in. His room in the cabin would be white with pink and creme accents. Pink silk bedding, a white desk, and a gold-encrusted mirror. It's no secret that Aphrodite is a bit vain, so he would put a lot of effort into his looks. His hair would sit perfectly, being brushed and combed with a rose-quartz hair tool. His skin would be clear and almost reflective. His lips would never be chapped, tinted softly with a pink lip balm. He would often show off his body, going for swims with the son of Poseiden (Nate possibly) his shirt being off, his abs prominent. A smirk would adorn his face knowing both males and females were fawning over him.

Going on to the desire and sexuality aspect. He knows he's handsome asf and he would use it to his advantage. He would flirt with multiple girls, even managing to get a few in his bed, but it would stop when he meets who he believes is the love of his life. The daughter of Hades.

Aphrodite's animal representation is usually doves and swans. In Chris's case, I think his would be a baby doe.

In the Percy Jackson series, Aphrodite's children didn't have many powers but the one that stands out would be charm speaking, almost like a siren song. Chris would definitely possess this power, being a smooth talker to get who and what he wants. As for a weapon, I could see him having a rose quartz shield paired with a sword, the handle of the sword being gold and white. The shield would be disguised as a ring, and the sword would be in the form of a pearl necklace.

his songs:

" He want lipstick, lipgloss, hickeys too" kiss me more- Doja cat

"Drop of a hat she's as willing as ,playful as a pussy cat" killer queen- queen (i like the 5sos version)

"i was made for lovin you baby and you were made for loving me" I was made for loving you-kiss

can't lie, all I was thinking about while writing Chris's part was @gamermattsgf fic silk ribbons 😭

Matt would be the son of Demeter

Demeter is the goddess of agriculture/harvest. Considering Matt has been the designated driver, does the laundry, and is labeled the navigator, I feel like this suits him. Agriculture is very important and tbh, without it, nothing in the world would work. I could see him always wearing jeans or overalls (barking at the thought of him wearing overalls omfg), he would wear a wife beater or a simple black t-shirt (preferably cropped teehee). He always would have his horse chain on, never taking it off, even when he's getting his hands dirty. Matt's quiet so I feel like that would carry on into the halfblood universe. He would stay near his cabin unless he was training or cooking in the camp kitchen. He would talk to a few people but would mostly keep to himself.

His cabin is number four, I would imagine it to be located near the back of the camp, close to mountains, and having a lot of land to farm. I would think it would be more of a rustic vibe, very serene. A lot of browns, cremes, with hints of green. A statue of his mother would be perched right in the middle of his backyard. He would sit next to it, offering her grains and cups of water as the sound of nature buzzed around them. Due to his mother being the goddess of harvest, he was in control of the food for the camp. He's basically a farmer. With being a farmer, there are multiple animals, his favorite being the horse. He would have an array of horses, his favorite being a pearl white horse he named Lucky. He would always take hikes along the trails, and teach other half-bloods how to care for the horses and how to ride them as well.

I could see him having a crush on Poesiden's daughter. It would be a beautiful relationship, after all, you cant grow plants or food without water.

In the Percy Jackson series, Demeter's children did possess powers. The ones I feel Matt would possess would be enhanced growth, (manipulate plant growth which would come in handy during battle.. He would also possess the power to manipulate seasons. It wouldn't be anything crazy, but he could make the temperature rise or fall drastically. His weapon of choice would definitely be a lasso, made with a golden thread. He would definitely ride on a horse, Lucky being the horse in question. The lasso would be disguised as the chain to his horse necklace, and the horse pendant itself would be Lucky.

Demeter's animal representation is usually a snake, pig, turtle doves, and a screech owl. The horse was also mentioned due to Poseiden creating the horse as a form of affection for Demeter. For Matt, I know for a fact his animal would be a horse (like I said multiple times) and a dog. Since I do think his love choice would be the daughter of Poseidon, he would gift her a horse.

His songs:

"I climbed a mountain and I turned around, and saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills" Landslide-fleetwood mac

"The dog days are over, the dog days are over. Can you hear the horses? Cause here they come." dog days are over- florence + the machine

"I've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met." the night we met- lord heron.

Nick would be the son of Athena

Athena is the goddess of war, wisdom, and craft. It's no secret Nick loves the idea of wielding a sword in a horse-drawn chariot, so this is perfect for him! He would always wear reds, golds, and black. I can deff see him wearing black docs for training, as well as jeans and some type of long sleeve. His attitude is very fierce, and he has a slick mouth. With his slick mouth comes wisdom, he's just very harsh with it. He is definitely the best fighter in the camp, being labeled as the winner and leader. I wouldn't say he was always looking for a fight but, he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

With his cabin being number six, I would think it's located near the training center of the camp. Lots of dirt and mud trails, and weapons being thrown across the front of the cabin. His room would have wooden flooring, with a four-post bed. The bedding would be plain white sheets with red satin pillowcases and a big red blanket. A bust of his mother would sit on his nightstand, a blade perched next to it. With fighting being in his blood, I could see multiple shields and swords in the bedroom as well, maybe some mounted on the walls.

As far as relationships go, he would want someone who is equally as skilled in fighting and can handle his mouth. With that being said, he would deff have his eyes on the son of Apollo. His archery skills and knowledge would captivate Nick.

In the Percy Jackson series, Athena's kids didn't have powers, they just had really good intelligence and fighting skills, as well as craftsmanship. Nick would have very good craftsmanship, constantly fixing things for people in camp half-blood, building buildings, etc. I also think he would be the one to come up with battle strategies during dire situations. His choice of weapon would switch between a sword and a staff. The sword and staff would be much like the son of Poseidon's, disguised as a pen. His staff would be disguised as a ring as well, throwing it up into the air and catching it in a dramatic yet impressive fashion. A horse-drawn chariot wouldn't be possible, so he does take one of Matt's horses instead.

Athena's animal representation is an owl. Despite Nick's fear of birds in real life, I do think he would take after his mother with the owl. The owl would alert him when there is danger near , and guide him in battle.

His songs:

"If it makes me a king, a star in your eyes" all for us- labyrinth

"And if you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me" army of me- Bjork

"And I had a thought about wreaking havoc on an opposition, kinda shocking, they want static with precision." enemy- imagine dragons

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im in love with this!!!! im deff going to do a version for the gods!!!

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita

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poursomesunaonme · 8 months

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living room mural

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: what could be more innocent than a home reno with your partner gojo satoru?

word count: 12k of unadulterated filth

author’s note: rewrote my debut piece on this blog :') i will never recover lmao

content/warnings: minors dni, established relationship w/ satoru; about a gazillion pet names (love, sweets, baby/babe, princess, darling, sweetheart, pretty girl), oral (fem receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, choking, teasing, a microscopic speck of angst, praising (good girl), degradation (cumslut), lots of spit, body painting (with actual paint), does that count as exhibitionism if it’s plastered on the walls, reader is blindfolded, biting, breeding kink, daddy kink, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, edging, squirting, v rough, a sprinkle of fluff, gojo antagonizing poor nanami

(we’re gonna pretend that this paint is non-toxic and won’t permanently damage skin pls ignore how down despicable i am for this concept🥺😭)

The pungent scent of fresh paint and sawdust flooded your nostrils as you rolled the first coat of paint over the primed walls. The first stroke of beautiful white paint against the shit brown left you nearly breathless. You wanted to sit down and marvel at this step of progress, but the satisfaction of even a single stroke had you craving the finished product.

Before you got back to work, you closed your eyes, listening to the sound of Satoru working outside. He was sanding down the wood to build a bookshelf in the living room. The drone of the sander starting and stopping would provide a good rhythm for your work. A smile rose to your face as you heard him talking to himself in the same animated manner that he would use in speaking to other people. You sighed, looking back to the wall you had to tackle.

In a frenzy, you went to work, the roller gliding over the wall with ease. The streaks of paint turned into even blotches of beautiful white, which after countless minutes of aching-inducing labor, was a finished work of a completely white wall. You stood back, setting down the roller. Your fingers nimbly massaged your shoulder as you swung it around a bit to get out the cramps.

You had two more walls of white to do before you started on the last wall that you and Satoru had agreed to paint an olive green. The accent wall also happened to have the fireplace on it, which you were going to leave for last with how tedious the work would be. You went to the kitchen to grab a drink, deciding to make one for Satoru as well. Admiring the wall once again, you passed through the living room and looked out the screen door, seeing him hard at work. The sweat glistened brightly on his forehead, accentuating his face that was contorted in focus on his task.

You kicked open the door, laughing at his face brightening when he saw you with his refreshment. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the bottom hem of his tank top, revealing his toned abs. You sighed, content, as he left his work to sit on the steps with you, groaning as his butt hit the cement. He lifted the goggles that he was wearing, setting them on his forehead. You handed him his drink wordlessly, watching his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

Together, you looked out into the yard, which was ablaze with the light of the afternoon sun. It was the point in the day where the sun seemed to shine the brightest before the hue changed with the golden hour. The stacks of supplies littering the grass were the only indications that the two of you were in the middle of a home renovation. Satoru’s work station was meticulously set up in his own specific way to make his tasks easier. You found the organized chaos endearing.

You set your cup down next to you after taking a sip, wiping the condensation of the glass off on your jeans. Flecks of paint littered them right down to the cuffs. Surprised, you pulled out the hem of your cami, seeing that you had also somehow gotten paint splattered on the front of it as well. You surmised that you had made the right decision to wear clothes you didn’t care too much about. Sighing, you picked up your glass once again, gulping down water to satiate your thirst.

“I have two more white walls to do, then it’s onto the fireplace wall,” you told him. You leaned into him and found that the dewiness of the sweat on your arms made them nearly stick together. He didn’t respond. His lips were locked onto the glass as he downed the water like it would be his last drop. You nudged him with your elbow. You wanted to know how his work was coming along. He finished his water with a dramatic “ahh,” setting down the empty cup next to him.

“I have a lot more wood to sand down,” he commented, gesturing to the stack he had next to his workbench. “I did not think this through. Do you still want a bookshelf? I think that maybe we could do without it.”

You chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder briefly. “Yes, ‘Toru, I want one. But we can always just buy one from Ikea.” You blinked innocently, yet a smirk toyed with the corners of your lips. “But I at least thought that the best would be able to finish a simple bookshelf. Guess I was wrong.”

You hoped that the mocking statement would injure his pride enough to spur him to finish the task.

The corners of his mouth turned into a frown, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he jolted upwards with a newfound fervor. You chuckled to yourself at how easily he played right along into your hands. “I’ll finish it!”

Planting a quick kiss on your lips, he sprinted back to his work, grunting as he picked up another board and set it on the table. The sander turned on, Satoru guiding its movements with ease, muscles rippling in the afternoon sun. You watched for a bit, sipping your water as you watched the sweat begin to seep through through his tank with his added effort. The sawdust that flew from the wood stuck to his skin.

After a few more minutes, your drink was finished. You set your hands on your knees, grunting as you stood up. You had hoped that the work wouldn’t make you too sore. The burning spots targeted by your repetitive motions said otherwise. Satoru noticed you taking your leave. You waved to him, which in response, he winked, gritting his teeth as he held the sander in place. You plucked the empty cups from the step and entered the house once again. You set them in the kitchen, then got back to work on the next wall.

The painting was easier as you got into a steady rhythm, even switching hands on occasion when your arm started to wear out. The work was repetitive and calming; letting out a gruff laugh, you considered switching jobs to become a painter. It was exponentially less stressful than teaching. With a sigh, you stood back, realizing that in your reverie, you had finished the last two walls, both of which didn’t have anything that you had to paint around, making them easy to finish without incident.

You smiled to yourself, wondering how Satoru was doing with his work. He had been so excited when he came up with the idea (it was more your putting the idea into his head and him taking the credit for it) of building a bookshelf for you, a light tone that contributed to the peaceful atmosphere of the living room. You knew it would be the perfect piece that you two had been looking for to complete the layout.

You sat down next to the can of green paint, prying it open and then dumping a healthy amount into the pan. You picked up the other roller, watching as it soaked up the pretty olive hue. Staring intently at the wall you had to tackle, the only thing you had to worry about was the fireplace, which you were still picking out a color for. Pieces of your hair tumbled into your eyes. You brushed them away, quickly deciding that you were going to worry about painting the wall directly next to the fireplace at the end of your work.

Halfway thorugh the wall, you thought that being a professional painter would definitely be a viable side job, seeing as you were now working efficiently and had ascertained easy tricks to make the work seamless. After you had finished the unblocked parts of the wall, you started at the bottom of the fireplace with a new, smaller brush, carefully tracing next to the painter’s tape. Both sides were finished quickly enough, only leaving the top of the mantle to tackle.

The fresh paint smell had attached itself to your body, your nose not even used to it after the seeming hours you had spent applying it to the walls. Standing on your tiptoes, you attempted to reach and stroke the paint blindly across the back edge of the mantle. No matter where you stood, you couldn’t see over the edge, and you certainly didn’t want to use a roller and get more on there than you needed. Sighing with frustration, you set down the brush on the pan. You straightened up, hands on your hips, trying to figure out another way to tackle the situation.

“Only you can make painting look this good,” Satoru commented from behind you. You whirled around, seeing him leaning against the doorframe, covered in sawdust, arms crossed over his chest. His goggles were up against his hairline, pushing the hair up at a funny angle. You smiled and sauntered over to him. He whistled at your sultry approach and planted a kiss on your lips when you reached him.

“‘Toru,” you started sweetly, trailing a finger down his chest, “now that you’re here, would you be a doll for me and paint the spots above the mantle? I can’t reach.”

He stooped down, pressing a kiss into your damp forehead. “Of course, love.”

You clapped your hands, spinning back around and beginning a trot back to the fireplace. Satoru kept pace with you easily with long strides. You squealed as one of his large hands collided with your ass. You cast a glance at him, seeing the devilish grin at the satisfying sound.

He plucked the brush from the pan, dabbling a bit to get more on the bristles. With ease, he stood at the mantle, not even having to stand on his tiptoes to see what he was doing. You watched with arms crossed as he set long strokes across the base. His back muscles pulled taut and released with grace with his movements, the sparkling of his sweat glistening with the setting sun filtering in through the windows.

The sawdust sprinkled across his body began to fall off as his sweat dried, adding a certain kind of magic that only he could embody. It was almost like special effects. It looked like a hazy dream with the glimmer of sweat and the perfectly orange light. He applied a few more strokes, then let his hand fall to his side, examining his work. Once he deemed it presentable, he turned back to you with an endearing smile gracing his lips.

You quietly padded over to him, feeling like you were floating on air in the approach. In turn, he glided over to you, eyes wandering up and down your body from under his snowy eyelashes. You bit your lip with a cheeky smile. His eyes narrowed reflexively like a hunter’s. Without warning, he lunged forward, brush extended. You squealed and tried to recoil, but your reflexes weren’t fast enough for the huge streak of paint he spread down your shirt.

You looked down at it, then back up at him. “Satoru!”

He let out a laugh, tossing the brush to the side, not bothering to look as it clattered over the covered floors. “Sorry, couldn’t say ‘no’ to those thoughts.”

You charged at him with your arms extended to swat playfully at him. He grabbed your biceps with an iron grip and pulled you close to subdue you. It worked, but not before you squirmed in his embrace, making sure his shirt was covered in paint as well.

After you had stopped moving, his grip loosened and he pulled back, examining your shirt with a mock concern. He tugged at the hem, seeing that what was once a stripe of paint had spread to cover the whole front of your shirt during the tussle.

“Hun, I think your shirt is ruined,” he commented, corners of his mouth turning up at the sight of your indignation. He stooped down so close that his lips were brushing your ear. “Think you should get rid of it now.”

You decided to take his comment literally (how he intended). You shoved him playfully, pulling it off over your head, revealing your bare chest. His jaw dropped as he tried to croak out a response to your actions, but you beat him to the punch.

“Guess I had no choice but to take it off,” you murmured. Your eyes flickered down to his shirt and back up to how his jaw tightened. He took the cue, slightly fumbling with the hem, but he didn’t any move to remove it. You took a step toward him, your heart beginning to race. The afternoon air wasn’t nearly cold enough to make your nipples hard, but the sight of Satoru sure was. The golden light shining through the windows made him look like an angel with the way it illuminated the dust around him and the sweat still shining on his skin.

“I think that would apply to you too, ‘Toru.” You closed the gap with another step as you reached for the bottom of his shirt. He continued a forward movement, pressing his whole front against you. The friction of your nipples rubbing against his shirt ignited a heat between your legs.

“‘Mkay.” He lifted a hand to gently stroke your cheek. His thumb rubbed roughly against the skin before he pulled it back to show you the paint on his finger. You swatted his hand away, forcing his attention onto you. “Take it off then.”

A smile rose to your lips as you obliged happily, nimbly tugging his shirt up to reveal his chiseled abdomen. The sight never failed to take your breath away. You let your fingers skim over his muscles as you pulled his shirt up over his body. His arms lifted gracefully to make your job easier, and after throwing it to the side, he was bare chested.

Before you could lift your eyes to meet his, his lips met yours gently. A tiny moan escaped you at the silky softness of his. Your hands found his arms and you gave them a satisfying squeeze. The muscles rippled in response to your touch. Your fingers skimmed up and down over his skin, eliciting heavy breaths from Satoru.

After just a few moments, your fingers felt raw. With a start, you realized that the bumps on Satoru’s skin were clumps of sawdust clumped together by sweat. It made things difficult, as it seemed to be everywhere and was rough on your fingertips. You started to dust him off, ignoring how the grainy flecks stuck between your fingers.

He pushed you backwards, hands beginning to wander as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip. You opened your mouth in response, letting out another moan – this one louder than the first – as his hands wound around to your backside, giving your ass a solid squeeze, a cheek in each hand.

You opened your eyes to see his reaction at the sound you had made - the looks of which you were not in the least disappointed by. Satoru’s eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed as his pupils blew out. Any sense of reservation with you was gone as soon as the vibrations left your throat. Half pushing, half carrying you, your bodies collided with the fireplace wall.

The wet paint stuck to your skin, the scent once again invading your nostrils after the sappy sweetness of Satoru’s had taken over your senses for those brief moments. You pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving. Satoru gave you a questioning glance before diving down to plant open mouthed kisses on your neck. Your hands met his hair, lightly pushing him away, but he didn’t pay much attention to your efforts.

“‘Toru, t-the paint’s still wet,” you squeaked as he sucked on the skin. He mumbled something against your neck before biting it lightly, tugging it between his teeth. The heat between your legs blazed even more intensely at Satoru’s tunnel vision. His passion was just too much to ignore. A feral groan left your lips as that one action sealed the wet walls’ fate for the night.

“Fuck it,” you sighed. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Lips collided again as he took full advantage of your abandon, wrapping you up in his arms completely. He squeezed you tightly. Your chest flattened against his. His tongue was warm in your mouth. With a low moan, his fingers looped through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you directly to where the tent in his pants was. A gasp passed between your mouths at the friction.

The moment seemed to spark something within him as he pulled back from your mouth. You pouted, trying to stand on your tiptoes to reach his again. Your fingers danced across his shoulders. He towered over you, eyes darkened with lust.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, pulling on your loops to emphasize his words. Your response was immediate, obeying him fully, sticking out your tongue slightly. His hands untangled from your belt loops, ghosting over the skin of your chest up to your throat. One hand tightened around it while the other stroked your cheek lovingly. You blinked rapidly, waiting for him to do anything else.

It wasn’t much longer, as he had paused for a minute to gather spit in his mouth. Pursing his lips, he parted them slightly, letting a dribble of spit through them. Not faltering in your pose, you let it hit your tongue, watching intently as the rest of the warm liquid left his lips. Once he had finished, he gave your throat a light squeeze. A signal to swallow. You obliged, taking it in full and giving him a sultry smile afterwards.

“God, you’re so hot,” he growled, your lips meeting once again. His hands left their position and wrapped around your waist once again, pulling you closer to him. As he pried you off the wall, your nipples perked at the cold hitting your back. It was accompanied by the strange tightness of the paint beginning to dry on it.

It wasn’t long before he slammed you against the far wall. At least, you thought it was. You were so disoriented already from Satoru’s intense onslaught of passionate kisses, but you didn’t care. One wall was already ruined, what was the hurt in fucking up the others?

The kissing was fierce, passionate. You both fought for dominance, though it was always Satoru who won out in the end, even when you decided to take control and pin him against the wall instead (which, in any case, you knew he enjoyed). Over and over you turned, covering every inch of the wall with your bodies.

It seemed that Satoru shared the same mentality, as the process repeated itself again and again until you pulled back to catch your breath. You glanced around, and a laugh escaped your lips. Satoru sighed, following your eyeline until a guffaw left his lungs as well. The surveillance led us to the discovery that the initial makeout had left your entire backside (ass included) covered in green paint; this in turn, with Satoru’s slamming you against the far wall, had led to your ass displayed on every inch of it.

“Well, that was something I didn’t expect to ever see on the wall of a house,” you commented, bumping into your lover. He chuckled, planting a kiss on your temple. His arm wrapped around your waist, the warmth of his body sending a shiver through you.

“I personally love the view.” To emphasize his point, he grabbed your ass and squeezed it, leaving his hand covered in paint. “I think it’s missing something, though.”

“And what’s that?” You looked at him, seeing the usual devilish grin spread across his face. He didn’t even have to see your face to recognize the quizzical look that you would give him when he had one of his crazy ideas.

“Well, two things.” He held up two fingers to you like you didn’t know how to count. “First of all, I want your bare ass there, so take off your jeans. Second, mine isn’t there!”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the empty room. “What are we gonna do, slather paint all over your ass and have you stamp the walls?”

“Yeah? What else?” His nonchalant tone drew a giggle from you. Your eyes widened with glee, not expecting him to have been serious at all. He turned to you, face brightening at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, this is gonna be golden!” you smirked, getting the paint roller and the pans of paint. Together, you stripped down bare, throwing your pants in a pile where your shirts were. Because your prints were already there, Satoru was adamant about getting painted first. Indulging him, you knelt on the ground, prying open an extra can of paint that you had bought in the hopes of finding a use for it. The pretty lilac color poured out into your spare paint tray. Satoru giggled in delight as you soaked the roller and gestured for him to turn around.

“Okay, it’s gonna be cold,” you warned, not hesitating to start to roll the paint on the back of his thighs and over his ass. He squealed like a schoolgirl, wincing at the temperature on his sensitive skin. “Chill out! You’ve faced worse than this, you baby.”

He didn’t say anything, but stilled his body as you put more than was needed on his skin. After you covered him with a copious amount, you tapped on his calf. “I think you’re good to try.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see!” He ran over to the wall and leaned against it, making sure his legs were flat against it as well. He gave you a dramatic look, crossing his arms to emphasize his mock impatience. Lifting his arm to check his imaginary watch, he sighed.

A soft smile rose to your lips, watching his theatrics. The golden light filtering in through the window illuminated him beautifully. The sawdust was almost completely shaken from his skin, as was a result of your fierce kissing earlier; however, a few motes still unstuck themselves from him and drifted away, looking like little fireflies in the dazzling glow.

He sparkled like Christmas lights, standing there so nonchalantly, yet looking like a Renoir. The shadows cast by his handsome features cut so deep against his skin, the crests and valleys of his toned muscles like a landscape you felt like you had yet to explore. Eyes widening, you shook your head to bring yourself from your staring.

“I don’t think it would take that long for it to settle,” you told him with a knowing smile. “Hop off and let’s see it.”

His eyes widened at the odd sensation as he pulled away from the wall. You gasped, seeing the stamp of his ass. You knew it was going to be hilarious, but the imprint of his ass seeming to hover over the backs of his thighs in the middle of the wall sent you into a fit of laughter. His laughter soon followed when he saw the shapes.

Your stomach began to ache as you laid down on the ground, still in throes of giggles. Satoru came and sat down next to you, petting your head, watching you chuckle at the scene.

“Isn’t it just a work of art?” he commented. You rolled your eyes, sitting up and getting your own paint tray with the olive green still sitting inside of it. You stood up, turning and gesturing to the tools.

“My turn!” you sang, swiveling your hips. Without fail, Satoru’s hands cupped the bottom of your ass, lifting and shaking it. You craned your neck to see him watching it jiggle in wonder. With a sigh, you turned back around, waiting for him to roll paint onto it. Without warning, his teeth sunk into the fleshy skin.

“What the fuck!” you yelped, whirling around to flick him in the forehead. His teeth flashed into a grin as he narrowly avoided your fingers, picking up the roller instead. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“What? I just couldn’t help myself.” His sweet tone threatened to make your teeth rot. While it hurt at first, the pleasure of it was beginning to hit as the irritated skin began to heat up. You shifted uncomfortably, not exactly wanting to ask him to do it again, but wanting it all the same.

“Just paint my ass.”

“Now that’s a sentence I’d never thought I’d hear coming out of your mouth,” he snickered, not even warning you that he was going to start. You sucked in a breath at the cool feeling on your bare skin, not wanting to show your discomfort as much as he did. The coolness felt wonderful on the spot where he bit you. He finished in a few seconds, the foreign sensation ceasing as quickly as it began.

You ran over to where he stamped the wall and sat against it. The height difference made you giggle as you imagined the print of your ass barely level with his thighs. After a few seconds, you pulled back, grimacing at the sticky sensation. You turned around and slapped a hand over your mouth, seeing the plumpness of your ass on the wall.

“We should frame that and put it in the Louvre,” Satoru joked, coming up beside you and wrapping an arm around you. You turned to him, pulling closer, your chests pressed against each other. Your mouth was slightly ajar, not even wanting to say anything to him. You were both naked, and you wanted him.

When he looked down and saw your expression, he licked his lips hungrily before your lips collided. The kiss deepened without hesitation, with Satoru’s tongue slipping into your mouth. His arms enveloped you easily, pulling you closer, roaming all over your bare back. The gentle skim of his fingers sent shivers down your spine. He tilted his head down slightly, breaking the contact of your lips enough to leave your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes met as heavy pants passed between your lungs.

“Lay down, sweets,” he murmured, cupping your face in his hands. You nodded and obeyed without a word, the tarp crinkling underneath you. A low whistle escaped his lips as you spread your legs for him, the cool air hitting the heat gathered between your thighs. He crouched down, marveling at the view before moving in closer. As he crawled to settle between your legs, something other than the tarp crinkled.

Your eyes widened as you looked to the source of the sound, finding that Satoru had accidentally placed his hand into the lilac paint. You opened your mouth to protest as Satoru shrugged and proceeded to continue his approach, but he held his clean hand up to his lips.

“Let me paint you, baby,” he murmured. You swear he could’ve slid inside then and there because his statement nearly made you gush. His soft white hair tickled your inner thighs as he reached his journey’s end. He looped his arms around your thighs, his left hand smearing wet paint all over your leg.

The slippery sensation felt amazing as he squeezed and massaged them, planting kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs that made your pussy flutter. He sighed, hot breath tickling the needy skin, before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moaned, arching your back at the contact. You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold on for dear life. He chuckled lowly, his painted hand untangling from your leg. He watched, beginning to suck on your clit, as his hand snaked up your body, leaving a trail of lilac paint.

Satoru’s huge hand kneaded your tit, leaving a handprint to mark his territory. You squirmed in his grasp, the chilly paint causing your nipples to pebble into peaks. He pinched one as he buried his face in your pussy, picking up the pace. Even in the haze his fervor cast upon you, the exaggerated movements of his hands smearing paint all over your torso grounded you in the moment.

You pulled him closer by the hair, moans spilling from your lips. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you could imagine everything that he was doing with the heightened senses that your arousal gifted you with. His other arm unwound itself from your leg and trailed up your torso, arriving at your mouth.

“Open up, princess,” he cooed against your pussy, causing you to squirm against the vibration of his voice. You did as you were told and he didn’t hesitate to slip his pointer and middle finger inside. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking obediently, swirling your tongue around his fingers to coat them with your saliva before he pulled them out.

“Good girl.” Your eyes widened as he spread his digits apart, watching the trails of spit that webbed his fingers with a lustful gaze. He briefly rubbed them on your clit, then swiftly plunged them into your cunt. You cried out as he curled them upwards, finding the spot he knew so well. He swirled them around a bit, finding a good rhythm and watching you wriggle before gracing your clit with his mouth once again.

The second he resumed his work, you could already feel yourself getting close. You couldn’t help that each exhale was an obnoxious moan; Satoru knew your body better than you did. The slurping sounds that came from between your legs could’ve made a nun blush as he worked his hardest to bring you to a climax.

The heat spread everywhere on your body as the complementarity of Satoru’s rhythmic fingering and incessant tonguing worked together to stimulate you. Your legs began to shake as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your fingers pulled harder on his hair, telling him to keep it up because you couldn’t form the words with your own mouth.

“You’re close, hm?” he purred, scissoring his fingers against your velvet walls. You squeezed your thighs together, trapping him.

“Mmhm,” you managed to squeak out. Without a word, he resumed his speed, your pussy throbbing against his mouth. Pulsing muscles constricted and loosened rapidly as they sucked his fingers deeper into your cunt. The intensifying loudness of your moans sung of the quick approach to your orgasm.

“Cum for me, darling,” he egged you on, watching in satisfaction as you unraveled before him. You cried out, legs seizing up as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. He continued his onslaught, mouth and hand working to keep the stimulation going, while his other hand was still massaging your breast.

The waves of pleasure began to ebb away, and the stars cleared from your vision. You sighed happily, massaging Satoru’s scalp as he slowed his pace. Your body jerked occasionally, still in the throes of the ebbing orgasm. He picked his head up, planting kisses up your abdomen, settling on the breast that he hadn’t covered in paint. His other hand remained in your cunt, still massaging your g-spot. His thumb roved your clit in lieu of his mouth. Your head spun as he tongued and sucked on your nipple, setting off fireworks all over your body.

“S’toru,” you whined, “kiss me… please?”

He released your nipple with a soft pop, teeth flashing in a luminous smile. “I love it when you beg for me,” he murmured, twisting his fingers deliciously. The buttery smoothness of his lips brushed against yours, fueling the flames in your belly. You melted into him, pliable as putty as he worked you into another climb up the mountain of pleasure.

“Ngh, fuck!” you choked out as your head rolled back, gripping his shoulders. Your moans were quickly muffled by his mouth on yours, enveloping the soft tissue and every sound that came from it. His lips were impossibly smooth, contradicting the roughness of his fingers that rolled within you. Satoru’s teeth bit and tugged on your bottom lip, before parting your lips with his tongue and gently sliding it inside your mouth. His face pulled away, watching your expression contort with neediness. The paint drying on his spare hand, he reached past your head, fumbling with his clothes.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but it quickly snapped shut when you saw his blindfold dangling from his hand. The grin on his face was telling of what he was going to say, and you were more than eager to agree. Before you knew it, Satoru was slipping the blindfold over your head, settling it gently over your eyes, surprisingly all while still keeping a steady rhythm massaging your g-spot.

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Satoru’s voice showered down on you from his position above. You could hear the smile in his tone at the sight of you splayed out underneath him, completely at his mercy. The thought made you nearly gush.

“Uh-huh, ‘Toru,” you moaned sweetly, relishing in the warmth of his body on yours. The brush of his lips on your mouth nearly made you jump out of your skin, but you soon dissolved into the contact as his tongue slid inside of your mouth. He threatened to swallow you whole, your tongues intertwining like snakes, salia mixing sloppily.

“Can you take another, pretty girl?” Satoru’s lips left yours and whispered the question directly into your ear. The ghost of his breath brushed against sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. A whimper escaped you, but you nodded, clinging to his shoulders. He didn’t hesitate to plunge an extra finger into your cunt, letting your walls assimilate to the stretch. He spread his fingers wide within you, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“So much,” you mumbled, the familiar feeling of the tears prickling in the bridge of your nose as you struggled to take his three fingers. Despite your whimpering, he continued, relentlessly curling his long fingers to tickle the spot that ruined you every time. As he continued gently pumping his digits into you, your walls assimilated to the girth.

“Helpin’ you get ready for the main show.” The smile was evident in his voice as he planted a kiss on your open mouth, ignoring your eyebrows knitting together, ignoring the trembling of your entire body, but especially ignoring your knees weakly struggling to come together, blocked by his hips lodged between them.

The alien chill of paint covered the skin of your throat as his hand wrapped around it, gently squeezing. Your head began to pound with each beat of your heart. After a few more moments of his fingers dexterously massaging the soft skin of your neck, his hand traveled upwards, grabbing the sides of your face and squishing them together.

“Open up for me, darling,” he purred. You didn’t need to see to feel brilliant blue eyes, darkened with lust, as they pierced through you. Your mouth went dry as you forced it open. Your tongue protruded, waiting for what you knew was to come. His finger brushed against your cheek as he pushed the blindfold up slightly, allowing you to watch the scene that unfolded. Without fail, Satoru stuck out his own tongue, watching lazily as the spit he gathered dropped from one mouth to another.

The fire in your belly exploded at the feral gleam in his eyes, at the renewed ferocity that he plunged his fingers into your cunt, at the tantalizing movement of his thumb on your clit. A gurgle escaped your lips at a particularly potent movement within you that zapped like electricity throughout your veins. Your nails dug into his skin as you fought to keep your head from spinning off.

“Uh-uh,” Satoru tsked, shaking your head back and forth easily to emphasize his words. You hadn’t even realized that your mouth snapped shut. “Don’t swallow yet.”

A tear slipped from your bleary eyes, rolling down your cheek. His lips were on your face in an instant, kissing the wetness away. Your lips trembled, along with your whole body, as Satoru’s digits wreaked havoc within your velvet walls. The fire in your belly spread throughout your limbs, rendering you a shaking mess as your orgasm came barrelling at you.

“S’toru?” you mewled, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. He fixed his attention on you without words, eyes gleaming at you as they watched you struggle to string sounds together. “Can I swallow now?”

The question must’ve sounded so silly with the amount of spit impeding your speech, but Satoru only gently kissed your forehead, his voice rumbling against you. “Of course, princess.”

As the warm, slightly sweet liquid descended down your throat, one of your hands ceased gripping his shoulder like a lifeline and fumbled around the tarp. You could feel his eyes looking inquisitively at you, but you ignored it as your hand found what you wanted. The gooey viscosity of the olive paint coated your hand. As you removed your hand from the tray, the excess paint dripped off, splattering onto the tarp. The foreign feeling of skin through the barrier of paint met your hand as you placed it on the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer to you.

Your lips met his ear, the pungent scent of the fresh paint flooding your nose once again at the proximity. “Can I cum, ‘Toru? ‘M close, babe.”

With a kiss to your neck, he removed his dexterous digits. You cried out, surprised by the empty feeling, missing the stimulation both inside and out of you. Looking down, you saw that Satoru had simultaneously begun to line himself with your entrance. Your eyes widened as you saw what you had been hoping for, biting your lip in excitement. His body twisted slightly as he reached for something behind him.

“You ready?”

He already knew the answer. A cheeky smile lit up his face, telling you everything you needed to know. His ego needed to be stroked. You needed to be filled. Mutual interests.

You shoved those thoughts out of your head, filling them with your desire for Satoru and Satoru alone. You had chosen each other, claimed the other for yourselves. Passion filled the air around you - had already begun to seep through the walls of the house as you made it your own.

You nibbled on your lower lip, blinking your eyes like a doe. He softened seeing your expression, leaning down lower so that the hair that cascaded down tickled your forehead.

“Yes, baby.”

His thick cock plunged into your weeping cunt all while he wrapped his freshly painted hand around your throat. A struggling moan left your lips as your body attempted to become accustomed to both feelings, but the overwhelming intensity of being stretched by his cock and being painted as his property sent your head spinning.

The blindfold slipped down over your eyes once again at Satoru’s slow but powerful thrusts, leaving you dazed. The tarp beneath you crinkled loudly at your movements, but you paid it no mind. His pace halted for a second, then resumed as his other hand joined in on the Pollock that was your body. His other hand remained gripping your throat as the freshly coated member roamed your body, coating it in the beautiful lilac paint.

You fumbled blindly for your paint tray, your wandering hands finally finding purchase once you gripped the plastic. You pulled it closer to yourself and plunged your hands into the cool liquid, not caring that paint was dripping everywhere - down your arms, onto the tarp. They slunk over Satoru’s body, coating him in the beautiful olive hue. As much as you wanted to see the art you were making, you also loved that it would be a surprise when he let you take off the blindfold.

The tip of Satoru’s dick knocked against your cervix as he picked up his pace, his cock beginning to twitch within you. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him closer to you. He tweaked your nipples, face buried in the crook of your neck as your neediness brought him closer to his high. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoisting yourself up off the ground for him to get a better angle.

“Ah, fuck,” he panted into the sensitive skin of your neck, “you’re killin’ me, babe.”

You only smiled, tilting your head back at the way his hips rutted against yours, at the way he rubbed against your clit so deliciously, at the way his balls slapped against the crease of your ass, dripping with the juices that flowed from you. His tip nuzzled so perfectly inside that it brought tears to your eyes. Your walls had stretched to accommodate his huge length, squeezing him so nicely.

The coil in your center needed to be unraveled. Moans poured from your lips as you used the leverage you had wrapped around him to feebly fuck him back, eliciting a string of curses falling from his mouth. Your tongues intertwined sloppily, ministrations pouring from mouth to mouth as you both approached your high.

“C-cum with me?” you panted against Satoru’s moist mouth. He only managed to get out a grunt as you felt him jump inside you once again. He fucked you hard and fast, breath nearly flaming in your mouth. Your wet hands roamed all over his body, quickly followed by your nails digging into his soft skin as fireworks exploded within you. Without warning, your orgasm hit harder than you expected, eliciting an obnoxious moan from your lungs as you held him impossibly close, squeezed him impossibly tighter.

That was all he needed as he came inside you, shuddering breath spewing against the soft skin of your chest as he planted open mouthed kisses against the unpainted inches of your breasts (at least, you hoped that he wasn’t ingesting paint). Your walls continued to contract, milking him dry as you felt him spilling in you, opting to paint your inner walls instead of the living room.

Your body convulsed with the power of the orgasm, your legs falling limp to the tarp, unable to hold themselves up anymore. His dick slipped out of you as your ass hit the ground, the empty feeling drawing a cry from your lips. You lay there, panting, feeling his cum leak out of you.

Satoru nestled into you, weighing on you like a security blanket, as you both recovered from your highs. Your fingers tangled in his hair, relishing in the movement of his chest against yours, nothing separating you as you lay tangled on the floor of your living room, in your house, in the new chapter of your lives beginning. You pressed a kiss into his hair, letting out a content sigh.

You wanted to stay like this forever. To remain in the arms of your lover, on the floor of the living room in your new home. To freeze this moment where he was all yours, when his mind was only on you, on you both, and nothing else. You knew that eventually you would both go back to work, he would go on amazing and dangerous missions, and you would be left alone in the empty house, waiting for him to come back. But, at least you would have this memory - you would know that you were his and he was yours.

“Let’s go on a field trip!” Satoru giggled, jolting you from your peaceful reverie. Your hands flew to coat themselves in paint, as you knew that he was moving you away from the tray - and you wanted to continue with your game. His arms wrapped you up and lifted you. Your nipples perked at the cool air on your back. Paint and cum dripped off your body as you wrapped your legs around his torso, squeaking at the slightest brush of his abs against your clit. In no time, you hit a wall. Satoru’s hands were on your ass in an instant, lowering you to sink down onto his dick.

A cry escaped your lips as you felt like being split in two all over again, your cum leaking all over him from your last orgasm. A shudder rocked through your body as a breath hissed out of you. Nails burrowed into skin feebly to counteract the pain of his girth stretching you.

His fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass, painting it with his lilac liquid as he easily suspended you against the wall. You felt the damp paint begin to streak across the wall as he bounced you up and down on his cock, his face buried in your neck, gently kissing and biting the sensitive skin.

The prickly feeling of tears in your nose rose to a peak as your clit dragged against his front. Swollen from overstimulation, it throbbed weakly, your cunt weeping at the painful pleasure. Tears began to stain the blindfold as they fell from your eyes, just barely leaking out from underneath to streak down your cheeks. You sniffled, clinging to Satoru’s broad shoulders.

At the sound, a chill hit your neck as Satoru removed his face. His lips were pressing to your cheeks instantly, kissing the tears away once again. Warmth spread all over your body, being wrapped up in the arms of the sun itself.

“Oh, princess,” he muttered, still peppering kisses over your face even though the tears were gone. “Don’t cry! Look how well you’re taking my cock. You’re being so, so good for me.”

You mustered up a smile at his praises as his lips collided with yours once again. Pressing your back against the wall, you angled your body so that you were able to grind in circles on him. The overstimulation zapped within you every few strokes, but it was beginning to ebb away at the rising crest of pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” Satoru groaned, beginning to rut into you faster. By now, all of his cum had leaked out of you, splattering distastefully onto the floor. He seemed to notice the sound at the same time you did, as it fueled him further.

“Maybe that attempt might not’ve gotten you pregnant,” he hissed into your ear, self control beginning to dissipate. “Maybe I should fuck another baby into you, hm?”

“Uh-huh,” was all you managed to force out at the ferocity in which he began railing into you. His energy never failed to amaze you, and never failed to pleasure you. One of your hands flew to the wall to steady yourself, smearing paint all over it in the process.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s see you pumped full of cum again, baby. Is that what you want? Want me to cum in you again?”

His actions were nothing short of animalistic as he pushed, pressed, pinched every inch of your body, beginning to nip at the skin of your neck as he began to lose control. Your feeble mind could barely keep up with his physical and spoken output. Your eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold, then opened, seeing nothing.

“Yes, please, ‘Toru.” Your breathing came in gasps as your high drew nearer. You could see stars in the corner of your vision as the coil in your belly threatened to unravel, spilling honey from your sex at every thrust.

“Please what?” The teasing tone of his voice was a poor cover up at the desire for you to satisfy him, to play into his fantasy that he wanted - no, needed - to make a reality.

“Please - ngh!” you couldn’t finish the sentence. Your mind was fogging up, halting all mental processes. All you could think about was his cock drilling into you, your walls weakly squeezing to keep up with his pace. His lips pressed against your chest, tasting the salt that covered your skin.

“Say it, baby.” The softness of his voice soothingly flowed over your ears, gently caressed you and carried you to the precipice of your orgasm. You drew a deep breath, forcing your brain to put together sounds.

“Please… let me make you a daddy!”

The words tumbled from your lips like prayers, falling on the ears of a sympathetic god, who showed mercy by pounding into your sopping pussy. Your lover, althought he was the one who physically dominated you, was easily emotionally bent to your will like a spring sapling. His pace faltered slightly, then picked up with a new vigor as he processed your request.

“Oh, that… that’s my girl!” he forced out, cock twitching uncontrollably within you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up, while the other reached to grab your throat. At the stimulation of the sensitive skin, he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm. You came together for the second time, mixing his seed with your juices once again as they both ran down your thighs, spilling onto his cock.

The cries that came from your lips could’ve made the neighbors call the cops. You clung to each other, suspended in a mindblowing orgasm, his hips erratically slapping against yours. Hot breath mixed between your mouths as your lips collided, soft moans expelled between the both of them. You were so close - your breaths were mixing, you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began, you were truly one.

“I love dragging you around like my little braindead cumslut,” Satoru whispered into your ear. Your eyebrows furrowed at his unprovoked statement, but you couldn’t help that his words made your walls clench around him.

All of a sudden, his arms disappeared, and you were supported by nothing. Struggling to find your bearings, being blindfolded, you flailed wildly. Satoru’s laughter drew a smile from your own lips as he caught you again and set you down, letting you find your footing.

You wanted to slap at him for teasing you, but your brain was still recovering, still searching your other senses to make sense of your reality. Before you could string two thoughts together, his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you a few paces away. Without warning, he pushed you over, sending you slamming nearly face first into a wall.

“Fuck! ‘Toru, that hurt!” Your whines fell on deaf ears as he spread your ass, whistling at the sight of the cum dripping down between your thighs. Your hands flew to brace yourself on the wall as he began ramming into you once again, slipping in without incident. His hands slid down your arms, coating them in paint. They finally found purchase as they reached your hands, intertwining with your fingers and raising them far up over your head.

As much as you struggled against him, you were powerless to tear your hands from his grasp. His cock slid in and out of you seamlessly, coated with the results of… how many orgasms? Five? You didn’t know, you lost count. Satoru peppered your shoulders, the grooved blades of your back, the nape of your neck, with kisses, eliciting soft moans from your mouth in opposition to the jarring ones that occurred if he thrusted into you, hitting a certain point that made your body twitch.

His hands released yours and they fell to your eye level, resuming their position in holding you up against the wall. Right after you had righted yourself, had steady footing, was about to fuck him back, he surprised you with slaps to your ass. The paint dulled them, the wet slapping sound echoing throughout the living room.

You turned to look at him, sneakily pushing up the blindfold with a free hand, to take in the sight, watching as he, tongue sticking out of his lips in focus, reared back, hand dripping with paint. The cold sting of his palm met the sensitive skin of your ass as he cocked his arm back for another hit in quick succession, almost making a drumbeat of spanking your ass. The movement was carefree, as if he was swatting an annoying bug away from him.

Paint covered his front, the lilac and olive and white all mixing together to make a swirl of beauty. It mesmerized you, the way it clung to his body, emphasizing and complimenting his stunning figure, the valleys of his abdominals, the rugged landscape of his muscles.

You turned back to the wall, the blindfold slipping over your eyes once again. They squeezed shut as he ceased, obviously pleased with how the lilac paint melted in with the redness of the plowed skin. He grabbed your ass in his ginormous hands, gently massaging it, spreading and closing it, using the cheeks in ways that took both he and you to new heights of pleasure.

“Definitely think,” he panted, lips against your ear, “that we need to frame your ass.”

Before you could even open your mouth to answer, your hands were in his once again, but he twisted your arms around to your back. He looped an arm through yours, settling the lock at the crooks of your elbows, decommissioning your movements once again. Your hands opened and snapped shut, grasping as nothing as his thrusts intensified.

His other hand, still damp with paint, roamed over your breasts, massaging and pinching the bare skin. They had been previously coated, but knowing how meticulous Satoru could be, he made sure they were absolutely slathered in copious amounts of his paint.

He pressed you into the wall again, and you felt the paint stick to the surface in the shape of your breasts. Your cheeks flamed at the thought of your entire body painted across the living room walls. But you knew that Satoru loved it, that he would be drooling over it until you decided to paint over the walls and adjust the hues to match the aesthetic that you were aiming for.

With his free hand finished with creating art out of your breasts, it traveled north, finding purchase around your neck like a piece of jewelry you’d always worn. He squeezed lightly and tilted your head back, just barely restricting your airway enough for your breath to come in rasps.

“Open up, darling.”

Like a robot, your jaw dropped and your tongue shot out, waiting for the familiar feeling of his spit. He didn’t leave you waiting long, as almost as soon as you obeyed him, his saliva was dribbling down onto your taste buds. You smiled lightly at the feeling, loving the fact that you could share this moment and label it as intimate.

“Swallow.”

Your pussy fluttered around his length, eager to obey. A sigh escaped his lips as he watched your throat bob with the odd angle that it was working against. He planted a sweet kiss to your lips, his nose brushing against your chin. The contact was lost, then found again as he nuzzled his face against your neck for a moment, before pulling away again.

“Open.” His command seemed desperate, like it was the only thing keeping him from stepping off a ledge. As much as you wanted to make fun of his theatrics, your mouth snapped open, eager to have another part of him in you. He wasted no time, coating your tongue with his saliva.

“Now wait.”

The only thing you could do was whine as your jaw began to ache from holding your mouth open for so long. He released his hold on your throat, but in true Gojo fashion, wasted no time in executing his next movement. He swiftly looped an arm under your left leg, pulling it upwards until you felt like your hips would split in half. You squealed in discomfort, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, your body being bent a million different ways. For the first time in the afternoon, Satoru relented, releasing your arms.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he bit into the soft skin of your neck, of your shoulders, back pressed against his chest. His dick, at this new angle, hit your sweet spot more perfect than before, if that was even possible. He went deeper, you squeezed him tighter, you were closer.

He thrusted into you, the tempo threatening to cast you into nothingness. With each movement you were pressed harder and harder into the wall, the paint sticking to the surface. It ached to pull you in, to suck you into the wall, to the white paint that was still drying, now mixing with the two hues that Satoru and you decorated each other with.

“One more, baby,” he cooed against the flaming skin of your shoulder. “L-lemme cum… one more time… in you.”

“Anytime, ‘Toru,” you teased, but the playful lilt in your voice was lost as he didn’t hesitate to shoot inside of you. You squealed at the way his cock jumped in you, knocking against the spot that was your downfall. His balls slapped against your clit, shoving you over the edge of an orgasm you didn’t know you were approaching.

You toes curled and cracked at the force in which the crest of pleasure hit you. Your legs gave way and you lost control of yourself for a moment, the drool you had been holding in your mouth spilling like a waterfall over your bruised lips. Satoru was quick to catch you, laughing at your frailty, which for once, you didn’t mind.

His lips were on your face, kissing and licking away the spit that had escaped the trap of your mouth. He supported you in a way you didn’t think you’d ever need, but surprisingly, you didn’t mind relying on someone for help. A warmness spread in your chest at the affirmation that you truly loved him - you loved him enough to not complain at him holding your drool-soaked and cumstained body limp in his arms.

“God, you are just so full of cum, aren’t you, baby?” Satoru purred into your hair, stroking it gently. You could only muster a weak “mmhm,” your body still shaking from the overstimulation and the last orgasm he unleashed on you. “Well, are you gonna let me taste?”

You didn’t have time to answer before he scooped you up in his arms, giving you the vivid sensation of flying. A coolness met your ass as he set you down on what you could only assume was the mantle of the fireplace. He spread your legs apart, ignoring the fact that they attempted to squeeze together to protect your weeping cunt from being stimulated further.

“S-satoru,” you winced, “I’m sensitive!”

It was no matter to him, however. He pulled your bottom slightly forward, so that your ass was teetering on the edge of the tile, giving him better access to your aching center. A loud cry escaped your lips as he gave your swollen clit a few soft licks.

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around him as he sucked on your impossibly sensitive bud. Your hands tangled in his hair, the gummy paint clinging to it and clumping it together. After a few more moments of relentless stimulation, he seemed to ease up, giving way to softer movements against your weeping cunt.

“You should see yourself,” Satoru muttered against you. “Sitting like a queen.”

Perched like royalty on the furnishing that had given you enough trouble to start this whole session in the first place. You chuckled at the thought of it, at the sight of your past selves wrestling to coat each other in paint what seemed like days ago. It was fitting to end your love making where it began, fitting to christen your house to be yours.

“Hah,” you breathed, “I can only imagine the sight.”

A sigh escaped his lips, the hot breath on your sensitive center making your legs twinge. His hands gently squeezed your thighs, each press planting flowers across your skin. The soft tufts of his hair tickled the inside of your legs as he nuzzled impossibly closer to your cunt.

“Spit in my mouth.” His request couldn’t have been more foreign, but you tried your best anyway. You leaned over, assuming that your trajectory would be right, or that he would make it work. Gathering the saliva in your mouth, you let it fall from your lips. A chuckle came from beneath you, so you assumed your aim was okay.

Your mixed spit was spewed from Satoru’s mouth as he spit it onto your already dripping cunt, the liquid leaking down between your asscheeks. You gasped at the sensation, beginning to lose feeling in your toes as another orgasm approached. Your eyes shut tight, but even with the blindfold, fireworks still exploded in your vision.

You were definitely not going to be able to walk for a few days.

The thought drew a bitter laugh from your lips that was quickly cut short by Satoru’s dexterous tongue flicking across your clit. Your teeth sunk so deep into your bottom lip that the skin threatened to tear. At his relentless pace, your muscles pulled impossibly tense, taut, as you sat, rigid, teeth bared as ungodly sounds poured from your mouth.

And then, he would soften. Pull back and kiss and lick the inside of your thighs, place love bites, suckle on the warm skin to leave marks you would marvel at for days. He’d massage the tender skin, draw patterns with the remaining paint. He’d study you like a scholar, memorizing the view of your exposed throat as your head tilted back, mouth open as moans spilled forth.

It was a cycle that he continued, pressing you further to your orgasm, then relenting to give you a break. Over and over again, never stopping, like you were the shore and he was the tide, pressing in and pulling away, constant, always present.

After what seemed like hours of edging, you were finally on the precipice of what you actually hoped was your last orgasm. Your body couldn’t take much more, as you probably would stroke out or something else that was equally disastrous, but it would be something that would elicit an awkward urgent care visit.

“Satoru…” you whispered, not even needing to finish your sentence.

“One more time, love. Cum for me.”

The affirmation was all you needed before you gushed all over his face. His gasp of surprise was cut short as he dove right back in, ignoring the waterworks. Your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm, sending your hands flying everywhere - into his hair, gripping the mantle, smearing paint all over the wall behind you.

But nothing was enough to ground you as you cut the tether and drifted off into space. Your body floated, suspended at the force of this orgasm. You could barely feel Satoru’s warmth between your legs as the buzzing took over your entire body, your skin flaming with pleasure as you feebly grinded on his tongue.

Your pussy throbbed, achingly swollen at the multiple orgasms Satoru had guided you to. As this last one ebbed, he wrapped his arms tenderly around you, lifting you from the throne he had placed you on. He planted kisses on your head, on your forehead, on your cheeks as he carried you bridal style across the room, then gently plopped down on the ground.

You remained nestled between his legs, your fingers intertwined as you sat together, relishing in the closeness of each other. His mind-numbingly warm skin was pressed against yours, sending sparks firing off all across your body. After a few more moments of blissful silence, Satoru cleared his throat.

“Are you ready for the grand reveal?” His smile broke through the phrase like a sunbeam. You nodded, not feeling like using your voice. His dexterous fingers hooked under the blindfold as you shut your eyes tight, not wanting to hurt your eyes by immediately exposing them to the light.

After a few more moments, your eyes creaked open, blinking to clear away the crusty remains of tears and to focus on the sight that presented itself to you. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the world cast into an eerie twilight that was simply magical. It was the perfect lighting to behold the mural that you created in your living room.

Streaks of paint covered the walls, most of them completely indiscernible as to what part of the body they were made by, except for a few, such as your ass prints and the plumpness of your breasts. Heat rose to your cheeks at the sight of such an abstract portrayal of art, and how breathtakingly beautiful it was. You sunk further into Satoru, insanely grateful at his stupid antics and what they spiraled into.

“I guess I have to restart my paint job, huh?” you nudged him with your elbow, the gooey, sweaty skin sticking together. You tilted your head up, observing his reaction. Satoru furrowed his brows, his hair falling into his face in green clumps.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off, flashing an award-winning smile. “I kinda like it!”

He was right. The messy pieces of your love were growing on you as you studied them further. It was pure art, pure passion, splayed across the walls of your home. The handprints, clinging to nothingness in the hopes of being steadied. The smears, results of loving and pleasurable thrusts. The asscheeks, of course, the lovers who facilitated the beautiful creation.

A calm settled on you like nothing you had ever felt before. A sense of security folded in around you as you lay in your lover’s arms, proudly surveying what you had made together. You closed your eyes in bliss, relishing in the warmth and peace.

Wait…

Your heart fell to your ass at an intrusive, yet irrevocably important fact. Eyes widening, you shot up, ignoring the chills that spread throughout your body in the absence of Satoru’s warm skin pressed against you.

“Shit!” you gasped, the detail that you had glossed over for the entire afternoon expanding to take up the entirety of your mind. “Kento’ll be here in an hour.”

Satoru laughed at your scrambling to pick up your clothes and throw them in a basket, trying your best to tidy up the living room. You put the paint together in a neat fashion; you smoothed the tarp, ignoring the imprints of your bodies and the paint smears that littered it; you also did your best to avert your gaze from the numerous pools of cum that were scattered across the floor. Your eyes widened in horror at the thing that you were just marveling at - the one thing you couldn’t hide from your best friend.

The living room walls, like a subdued pornographic mural, stared back at you. The tarp crackled as your lover stood. You looked at Satoru, your eyes big as saucers. He smiled gently, taking your hands in his and pulling you closer to him, placing them on his chest.

“There’s nothing we can do to fix it, so let’s just get cleaned up, alright?” His arms wrapped around you, snuggling you to his chest. You sighed, turning your head to the side to hear his heart thumping. He planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay,” you murmured, then peered up at him with a devilish grin, “but only if you join me.”

“That was implied!”

Once you had gone for another round and managed to scrape the paint off of your bodies, you were ready for the dinner that Kento was bringing. Earlier that day, he had offered to bring you food to celebrate the end of the first day of home renovation - which you eagerly accepted. Pizza was easy to clean up, and a viable way to recharge, so that was an easy decision to make.

A knock on the door sounded as soon as you were making your way down the stairs. Satoru took off in a sprint, reaching the front door in just a few strides. He threw it open, spreading his arms wide for a hug. You hung back, trying to avert your gaze from your living room mural.

“Nanamin!” he yelled, embracing his friend despite the boxes of pizzas he was carrying. Kento’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to keep his balance at Satoru’s enthused greeting.

“Careful, Gojo!” the tall man growled, pushing Satoru away to keep the boxes from tumbling all across your porch. You laughed at their interaction, catching up to them and taking the boxes from Kento.

“How are you?” he asked, silently thanking you for taking his burden, but ignoring the fact that you left him with a bigger one instead. A playful smile toyed with your lips as a strand of wet hair fell into your face.

“Tired, but glad to have one day down,” you admitted, turning and leading the way to the kitchen. Satoru tsked as you set down the boxes of pizza on the kitchen table. You whirled around to face him, setting your hands on your hips.

“Now, darling,” he began, voice chiding, as if speaking to a child, “you know you aren’t supposed to eat in the kitchen until the renovations are finished.”

Your heart fell into your stomach when you saw the expression on Satoru’s face. He was an absolute menace, looking to antagonize you in any way he could; however, you thought this ploy was geared more towards Kento’s discomfort. You gritted your teeth and decided to do your best to gear the conversation in a way that you wouldn’t have to expose your deeds. Blinking innocently, you fixed your mouth into a smile, trying not to look pained.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kento agreed, walking to the table to grab the boxes of pizza, not knowing that he was playing directly into Satoru’s sick idea of a joke, “I actually heard that’s bad luck.”

You wanted to slap your palm into your forehead. As smart as Nanami was, he was almost always stroking Gojo’s ego whether he knew it, liked it, or not. You fired a glance at Satoru, pleading for him to not go through with this antagonizing, but he ignored you.

“Bad luck!” Satoru gasped dramatically, eyes widening as he wiggled his brows at you. A sigh escaped your lips as you cast him a warning glare instead. This, also, was a fruitless effort. Satoru was dead set on torturing his best friend.

“So where the hell are we supposed to eat?” you shot at Satoru, not even bothering to look at him anymore as you shuffled towards the two towering men. Your grip had tightened, your nails digging into your palms.

“Uh, I dunno, the living room?”

“Satoru…” The tone in your voice would make a child cry. You trotted to the cabinet to scoop up paper plates and napkins to intercept him before he made another move to expose your afternoon.

“No, I wanna see it!” Nanami insisted, picking up the pizza boxes. The doors slammed shut behind you as you whirled around, seeing Satoru’s sly glance. You wanted to wipe the smile off his face. “Didn’t you say you were gonna paint it today?”

Satoru gently led him to the living room. You tried to catch up with them, but the tall men had long strides. Your head was screaming for him to stop, but you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself and make matters worse.

“Yes but-“

You were too late; Kento and Satoru had already entered the living room. The boxes of pizza clattered to the floor as Nanami ripped off his glasses, eyes widening in horror at the sight of your bodies sloppily painted on the wall.

“What in the fuck happened here?!”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk #jjk smut #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru #gojo smut #🪐beanie writes!

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the-kr8tor · 3 months

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Hello! Could I please request hobie x librarian! reader? Since I sent that imagine in I can’t get the idea out of my head 😭

Maybe hobie meeting up with r one time when they r working at the library to help him find a book (and to distract them from doing their job 🤣)

feel free to change the plot to this bc I couldn’t really think of one🤣!

🕊️anon

Thank you, dove for another lovely request!! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, CW food mentions, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

It's a slow day in the library, all previously checked out books are properly placed in their shelves, everything else is organized in each pile. The smell of old books envelops you as you indulge yourself by reading a book that has you enthralled, the plot thickens, making you sit on the edge of your chair. Hands gripping the covers, your eyes widen at the love confession.

Your back is turned away from the table, making sure no one can see you reading the fluffiest romance book known to man. Being extra cautious, you hide your flustered face with your arms, toes wiggling inside your shoes while you giggle to yourself. Back folded like a shrimp, legs propped up on the chair with the book placed firmly on your knees.

Breath hitching in your throat, eyes brimming with tears when the protagonist finally realizes her best friend loves her too. You're too captivated to notice the presence behind you.

A gruff voice suddenly speaks, “‘He calls her name this time, not love, not Gromit or cherry, her name—’” he reads a passage right off the page.

You screech, the loud noise getting the attention of the library’s patrons. One shushes you while Hobie beams, hands tucked in his jean pockets. His smile gets bigger when you hide yourself behind your book.

He tilts his head, taking his hand out to move the book down and away from your face.

“There's my girl.” Hobie moves his hand to squeeze your nose. He can't help it when you're looking so adorable, and dare he say that he misses you so much that he decided to stop in the middle of his patrol just to see you.

He already thinks it's well worth it to change from his suit to his regular clothes in a grimey small alleyway from how you reacted.

“Hello?” You squeak out at your boyfriend, a shy smile hidden behind the cover of the book.

“Hi.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, “Why'd you hide the book from me? It was getting good.” He teases.

You collect yourself, calming your racing heart. Scooching a bit to the left, you pat the space.

Even though you two could barely fit on the office chair, Hobie still indulges you. Sitting down rather uncomfortably but he doesn't seem to mind as he immediately wraps his arm around your middle with the excuse of making sure you won't fall off the edge. You two are squeezed on the chair, half of your bodies sticking out. But you still stare at eachother like the protagonists in your book, with so much love and affection reserved with a simple look.

You place your face on the crook of his neck, nuzzling him. “Did you fight lizard?” Whispering right into his ear, he chuckles when your breath tickles him.

“Why? Do I smell?” He looks down at you, eyes soft whilst you sniff him. Nose kissing his skin.

“Hmm, no.” Sniff. “Yeah, nope.” He smells of leather and your fruity soap.

“How'd you know then?”

“You've got a piece of his scale stuck on your neck.” you narrow your eyes at the tiny green scale.

Hobie moves his neck to the side, giving you a full view. “Get rid of it for me?”

With your nail you gently scratch it off, flicking it away once you get it unstuck.

“There.” You rub his skin clean with your thumb

“Thank you, lovie.”

“What are you really doing here, Hobie?” You look at him through your lashes, “except for distracting me at work?”

“I think that job is already taken.” He taps your book on your lap. “‘m here to ask for help in finding a book.”

You giggle, knowing that's not the real reason. You decide to tease him a bit. “Okay, book title?”

“I don't remember,” he feigns like he's oblivious. Flicking his eyes on the cover, he continues. “Starts with the letter T, I think. That's where my favourite librarian comes in, right?”

“There are a lot of books starting with that letter. Do you at least have the author's name?” You play along.

“Ends with the letter R.” He grins.

“You're such an ass.” You laugh, muffling the sound with his jacket.

“You're right, ‘m here to annoy the living shit out of you.” You're not for one for PDA but you want to kiss the smirk off his lips. Maybe just one won't hurt. Before you could, he raises his hand, revealing a brown paper bag. “‘sides, I brought you lunch.”

The sight alone makes your stomach grumble, not realizing how hungry you've been with how transfixed you were with your book. You're now glad it was Hobie who found you reading during working hours and not your boss.

He heard your stomach grumble with the help of his enhanced hearing and how quiet the entire place is. But he decides not to tease you about it, for now at least.

You click your tongue, “food isn't allowed in the library.” He's disappointed at your comment. “but it's allowed in the employee lounge.” Grinning, now it's Hobie's turn to have the urge to kiss you silly.

“And I can read the rest of my book to you?” You ask, a bit nervous.

“So I can feed you while you read it to me, hmm? Very clever.”

“That's not what—”

He stands up, lending you a hand, flexing his fingers. “Let's go then, before your soup gets cold.”

“Is it from my favourite deli?” Your eyes shine in the fluorescent lights. “With bread?”

“‘course.” He'd cross oceans just for you if it means you get to eat the food you love. He acts like it's the most simplest thing in the world when in fact he had to line up for fifteen minutes to get your favourites.

You look at him with love in your eyes, taking his hand, he lifts you up with ease.

“Yeees.” You whisper happily. “For that I'll do the voices while reading.”

“Very romantic, love.” Hobie chuckles, letting you lead him excitedly down to the employee lounge.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #spider punk x fem!reader #cw food mention #hobie fluff #fanfic #🕊️ anon

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7s3ven · 3 months

Text

UNBEARABLE. connor stoll (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Connor Stoll finds enjoyment on pulling all sorts of pranks on Y/N L/N, the charming daughter of Aphrodite. It isn't until he catches her in a moment of weakness that he begins to sympathize with her.

A/N : I kinda feel like I’m carrying the PJO fandom on my back with all these fics lol. Also, people said I could be cast as Drew from PJO. Y’all should ask for my insta so you can confirm me as Drew 😽

Warnings : not following plot, luke is still here bc I adore him, mentions of luke x y/n here and there (Y/N’s an Aphrodite kid, ofc she’s kissed multiple people 😭)

—

A shrill scream pierced the peaceful silence of Camp Half-Blood, waking up most of its campers. Connor Stoll creeped around the corner with a cheeky grin, holding an empty bucket of pink paint. A moment later, Y/N L/N and Silena Beauregard stormed out of the Aphrodite cabin, covered from head to toe in paint.

"I'm going to kill him!" Y/N shouted, eyebrows furrowed in fury. The paint dripped off her body, staining the green grass below. She scoffed.

The Stoll brothers, more specifically Connor, were at it again with their never-ending pranks. Ever since Y/N arrived at camp, she had been the main victim of Connor's tricks. And she hated it.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked Silena, all of her anger suddenly simmering away once she looked at her sister. Silena nodded, combing the dried paint out of her black hair. Y/N looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with Travis Stoll. She fumed as she quickly strutted towards the elder brother.

"You," She sternly pointed at Travis and poked his chest, "Get your brother under control before I do it myself!"

Travis lifted his arms in surrender, teasingly grinning. “I think he’d like that.”

"Just make him stop! I am sick and tired of being covered in paint when I wake up! Honestly!" Y/N groaned as she stormed back towards her cabin, ushering Silena inside so they could wash up.

Y/N clicked her tongue as she scrubbed the drying paint off her face. Silena was beside her, drying her now clean face with a warm towel. "I can't stand this any longer." She mumbled, running a brush through her hair. She peeled a patch of paint off, scowling in disgust. "Do you think the paint will harm my skin barrier?"

"Oh, absolutely." Silena quickly nodded her head, "We need to do face masks tonight."

Y/N was getting sick of all the pranks that seemed to target her and only her. "Hey, Y/N, we're gonna get breakfast. You wanna come with?" One of her other siblings poked her head around the corner, in the process of changing into a pink shirt.

"Oh, yeah. I'm coming." Y/N flashed Silena a bright smile before joining the other Aphrodite kids.

"Hey, Y/N, don't you think that Connor is kinda cute?" One of the girls nudged her as Y/N tucked herself between Momona and Jacob. Y/N glanced at Connor, frowning.

"No." She scoffed, something she did often whenever Connor was around. "He keeps pulling pranks on me. I can't even see him half of the time because my eyes are always covered in paint."

“She has a point.” Vivviene said, causing Y/N to frown.

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

Her siblings laughed, throwing their heads back. “Yeah, right!” Jacob exclaimed, “What about that time you said Luke wasn’t guarding the flag and you were wrong? Because he was and he whooped your ass badly!”

Y/N pushed Jacob, playfully scoffing. “It was one mistake! And I landed a few good shots! He got stuck in the infirmary for a week."

“Yeah. And you were with him because of his beating! The Apollo kids found you making out a few times!” Jacob slung an arm around her shoulder, bellowing out another laugh.

Y/N accidently caught Connor's eye from across the room and her smile faltered. She quickly turned her head, the image of her reflection covered in paint engraved in her mind.

She still had paint stuck under her nails and she picked at it. "I'm getting fed up with him." She mumbled, causing her siblings to groan. Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What?"

"You always talk about him at meals." Jacob said.

"In fact, you're always talking about him. Period." Momona added.

“What if I’m not talking about Connor?” Y/N asked, unknowingly falling into her siblings trap.

"We never mentioned a name.” Vivviene pointed out. Y/N groaned, running a hand through her soft hair. “Maybe he keeps pulling these pranks because he likes you." Vivviene shrugged before eating another spoonful of her food, not noticing how everybody turned their heads to stare wildly at her.

"Excuse me?" Y/N almost choked. "He does not like me. If he did, I don't think he'd be annoying me so much. But I guess boys are naturally annoying." Jacob pursed his lips but nodded in agreement. "Anyway, I have to help some kids with archery practice. I will see all of you later." Y/N grinned at her siblings, teasingly tapping Momona on the nose.

"Oh, great. Tell them to duck when you shoot." Jacob teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes but she still smiled. "Well, I'm off. Bye!" She stood up, gracefully walking away. The kids in the arena seemed to light up as she made her presence known. "Hey kids, great to see you all again! Y'all ready to learn some archery?" The young demigods cheered, excited for their next lesson with the Aphrodite cabin leader instead of the harsh Clarisse.

"So, you just pull the arrow back. As far as you can," Y/N uttered, showing the kids a demonstration. "And once you've got it as far as you can, you just shoot." She let the arrow go, watching as it spiraled through the air and hit bullseye. With that sort of aim, she may as well be an Apollo kid.

The kids clapped while she outstretched her arms, enjoying the applause. "Thank you!" She playfully bowed. "Okay, bows out, arrows ready, and shoot your shot! Quite literally. Aim for the targets over there, not at each other."

The children excitedly grabbed a bow and arrow, trying their best to impress to Y/N. Even if they missed completely, she still clapped and gave them an encouraging pat on the back.

"Great training session guys! I'll see y'all tomorrow!" Y/N waved goodbye to the small group. She was cheerful until she spotted Connor in the distance, conversing with Travis and holding yet another can of paint. She clenched her jaw.

"Connor Stoll, don't you dare use that paint for anything relating to my cabin!" She stormed towards him, sternly pointing at him.

"We weren't planning to but now that you say it, we might." Connor cheekily grinned while Y/N glared at him.

"Stoll, you know I adore everybody in this world... but you are an exception. I loathe you." She poked his chest, "Now, please get rid of the paint in that can."

Connor shrugged. "Okay." He, without a second thought, poured it all over Y/N. For the second time today. She gasped, glowering at Connor.

"You are dead." She said through clenched teeth. "Dead, you nitwit!" She threw a lump of paint at him, hitting him directly in the face. “Honestly.” She scoffed, shaking the paint off. “My skin is going to break out soon and you’ll be to blame!”

She slapped a paint-covered hand on his shoulder before walking off, muttering to herself as she glared at any camper who dared to laugh at her.

“Well, that went smoothly.” Travis said, taking a peek at Connor. “Maybe covering a girl in paint isn’t the best way to woo her.”

“Luke told me it was.”

Travis clicked his tongue, resting a heavy hand on his brother’s back. “… He was messing with you.”

Connor wasn’t a complicated boy. He loved playing pranks but lately Y/N’s reactions had been getting less rewarding. She looked at him like he was the bane of her existence, which he probably was. But how else was he supposed to get her attention?

Without the constant tricks, Y/N would have only ever seen him as another Hermes boy, not worth remembering because her eyes were always on another.

Luke, with his brown-curled hair and a faint scar that ran down his pretty face yet it only elevated his beauty. Connor was pretty sure whatever chemistry and romance between them was done but Luke still snuck glances at Y/N from time to time.

If he was being honest, Connor was a little jealous of his brother. What was his secret to getting Y/N to notice him? Sure, Luke was good-looking but Connor wasn’t lacking in that department either.

"You'll think of something to grab her attention." Travis reassured his brother, nudging him in the ribs, "My advice... plan a picnic. Who knows, it might get you somewhere." The elder Stoll brother tilted his head back, letting out an amused laugh, as he walked away.

Connor clicked his tongue, thinking for a moment. His eyes lit up with mischief as an idea popped into his head. He couldn't guarantee that it was a good one but it's Connor Stoll we're talking about. Y/N woke up with a surprised look on her face. Paint wasn't splattering around her cabin and everybody was sleeping peacefully, not awoken by shrill screams. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. It seemed Connor had finally decided to leave her alone.

She stood up, shivering slightly when her bare feet hit the cold tiles below. She sleepily staggered over to her vanity mirror, peering into it to check her skin as she did everyday. Her appearance was spot on, as usual, except for one thing that made Y/N lose her mind.

Her hair... was pink. It wasn't an ugly type of neon pink but gone were her H/C locks. Y/N tried to hold back a sharp screech but the panic was beginning to set in.

Her half-siblings woke up in alarm.

"My hair..." Y/N seethed to them, barely able to contain her fury, "That little..." She couldn't even find an appropriate insult as her body trembled in anger.

"I'm sure we can wash it out." Silena rushed to Y/N's aid. "It's still early. I'll draw you a bath and we can scrub it out."

Silena was wrong. Two bottles of shampoo later, the color was still vivid.

"I can't go out like this." Y/N said, tugging at the ends of her hair. "They'll laugh at me... and mother, oh gods... she's going to hate me for changing my hair."

"It’s not your fault." Silena comforted her. “I’ll talk to Connor. I’ll make him tell me how to get rid of it. Then we can fix it. Okay?”

Y/N slowly nodded. “This is fine.” She muttered to herself when Silena was long gone. She applied a thin layer of gloss to her lips, soothing herself. “Mother won’t hate you because it was all his doing…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she looked at her reflection for a second time, she felt her anger flare up again.

As an Aphrodite kid, her appearance was everything. It was her identity and more. "What about personality?" Other campers would ask her and she'd simply laugh. What about beauty? The first thing people will see is how you carry yourself, how you walk, how you look. Personality had nothing to do with first impressions.

Y/N was a beauty among the Aphrodite girls, standing out more than she should. She had always been her mother's favorite. Without her carefully styled H/C hair, who was she? Her hair was an important detail to her and she didn't know what to do now. Would people still love her as they did before? Without her outstanding looks, she was nothing.

Y/N slipped out of her cabin via the window. Everybody was at breakfast so it wasn't hard to avoid people from seeing her hair. Y/N was supposed to be teaching archery again today but she'd rather battle a hellhound than show up with pink hair.

She wandered around the forest, eventually finding herself in front of a small river. A few nymphs sat near the water, giggling together. They spotted Y/N and all gasped in unison, scrambling away except for one who was brave enough to stay.

"I like your hair." She shyly said, coyly kicking her leg into the water. She charmingly smiled before hurrying off after her friends, who laughed at timid behavior.

Y/N fell to her knees in front of the river, staring mindlessly at the cool liquid. She wondered what it found feel like to dunk her head beneath the water, an action she saw the nymphs do quite often.

She didn't know how much time had passed. Maybe it was minutes or hours but Y/N found herself sprawled on a warm rock, basking in the sun. She heard footsteps approach her and she hoped it was Silena. It wasn't. It was Connor instead.

"Oh." Y/N deadpanned, displeased to see him. "It's you." She deeply scowled, turning away.

"You, uh, weren't at breakfast." Connor kicked a nearby rock as he cleared his throat, "And the archery kids were wondering where you were too. Luke had to take over and he may be the best swordsman but he's far from the best archer. He kept missing the target."

Y/N let out a small huff of amusement. "What are you doing here, Connor?" That was the first time she had called him by his first name. She often referred to him as Stoll.

"I wanted to check up on you. Are you... okay?"

"No, Connor, I am not okay!" Y/N suddenly snapped, "Why can't you ever leave me alone? Did I do something to hurt you? I could deal fine with the paint and water buckets but my hair? You dyed my hair pink! My mother loved my H/C hair and now you've ruined it!"

"It won't last forever." Connor retorted, taking a step towards Y/N.

"That doesn't matter!” She screamed, standing up. “My looks are important to me, Connor! I can't pull off pink hair, it doesn't match my skin undertone! I need to be perfect otherwise my mother won’t love me!”

"You can pull anything off, Y/N. You're pretty."

Y/N's eyes momentarily softened as she gazed at him, her cheeks flushing a light hue of pink. "You think I'm pretty? Even... even with messy pink hair, smudged mascara, and fading eyeliner?"

"I think you're always pretty." He answered, “Even when you do those heatless curls that make you look silly. And I think you’re the prettiest when you aren’t trying.”

“Don’t think your compliments will get you off the hook.” Y/N warned, glaring at him.

“Will a star-gazing date at seven get me off the hook?” Connor asked, mischievously grinning.

In turn, Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Maybe.” She uttered before turning around and walking back to camp, concealing her pink hair once more.

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