#it doesn't look like my own work to me but I have the wrist pain to prove that it is. Look at the scythe. Look at the SCYTHE.

[sagephilosophie]

❝ PERSONAL ❞

║Y. SHIO

➲ʙᴏꜱꜱ! ꜱʜɪᴏ ʏᴏᴛꜱᴜʀᴜɢɪ x ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⊠ Tags ➢

NSFW AHEAD, Unprofessional workplace relations, Staged public humiliation, Secret relationships, Shio being a jerk at first, Office sex, Reader wears a skirt, Oral sex (f! Receiving), Orgasm denial, Missionary, "Sir" usage as a kink name, Tongue play, Vocal kink, Rough sex, No lube, Unprotected sex, breeding, Accidental Voyeurism.

⊠ Word count ➢ 1455

You stared dully from your office at the Yotsurugi meeting room, leaning on one hand.

Having lost count how many coffees you had so far to stay awake, the boredom was driving you insane, for his own unmentioned reasons, Shio didn't allow you to attend the meeting or help him in any way concerning it despite that being your job, now that you have already finished all your work there's nothing to do but sit still and wait until your shift ends.

There came a perfect chance to admire how charming the suited man was, if he wasn't surrounded by his siblings, you would have definitely surrendered to your desires and let him have his way with you.

You suddenly yelped when your half-awake eyes locked with the oldest Yotsurugi's behind the glass window and started acting like you were searching for a file to check.

To your horror, Shio reached for his office phone to dial you, oh... that is alarming, you answered the call reluctantly trying to overlook his piercing gaze, "...Yes, Sir?"

"Cappucino, please."

That was really close, "Of course."

His eyes followed you as you went to the coffee machine and out of his sight, he wasn't a patient man and the wait have always irritated him, so from your end you had to hurriedly enter the door and place his coffee right in front of him, "Here is your cappucino... sir."

He only glanced at you from the side not even thanking you, before taking the cup and spilling it all over your shirt, you screeched in pain at the burning sensation of the hot liquid, all his brothers' eyes turned to you and the humiliation you felt burned hotter.

"Do your job better."

"Sir-"

"You may leave now."

Feeling insulted, there was no point to even get yourself to look around and left the room tearing up, you made your way to the bathroom, thinking of what you might have possibly done while you try and clean your white shirt completely stained with coffee, doing nothing ? Bringing him his cappucino ? None if those reasons sounded valid, but you knew what you were getting yourself into ever since you started working for Shio, you knew he could be hot tempered despite his usual calmness, in fact you knew that better than anybody how quickly his personality changes.

You cried your eyes out in your moment of solitude, and even thought about not coming out nor face the man again, or at least avoid him until the sense of grievance wears off.

You followed your instincts to wait for some time before heading back to your office and took the chance to wipe your tears and wear a strong face again.

When the moment felt right you walked off down the hall and tried to ignore some of his brothers' stares leaving the meeting, when you opened the door you were faced with your boss sitting on your desk and hopping off it at the sight of you.

"Listen..."

"Don't even talk to me... do you have any idea how humiliating that even was, Shio ?"

"I know, my love, i'm sorry, but i had to."

"Had to what, embarrass me for no reason ?", You tried to pass him and take your bag but a rough grip on your wrist held you still.

"Just listen to me, my brothers were getting suspicious about us and i had to-"

"To prove you're serious about your position and capable of leading the Yotsurugi family, i know all about that...", you broke free from his hold, "But that doesn't concern me, you don't get to take your anger out on me!!! Because i heard all that everyone ever speak of lately, THAT SHIO YOTSURUGI WAS REPLACED BY HIS LITTLE BROTHER AS THE FIRST BO-"

A hand ruthlessly covered your mouth and throw you against the glass before you could finish speaking, "How dare you... do you even know who you're talking to... just because i fuck you doesn't mean you get to bring up something this personal!!!!"

His breathing got rigged and his glare turned dark at the nerve you just striked, you, in the other hand, were like a deer in the headlight, and couldn't even break the eye contact, slowly his hand fell down and changed orientation to your hips bringing you closer to him.

"Shio..."

"You know what i like to be called."

"Sir...", you heard a hum of approval at that as he began kissing your neck, "...i don't think we should do it here."

"We always do it here."

"But not this time, all your siblings are...a-ah... in the building, what if they... ah- come back...", the heat was getting to your head and was making you give up to his touch.

"Don't think of them, sweetheart, think of me.", when did he even open up your shirt, or lay you on top of your desk ? You only realised what was going on as he left hickies going down from your exposed chest to your lower waist, "Mmmh sir~"

"Keep moaning for me like that."

Every touch from him was pleasurable and left you wanting more, he reached underneath your pencil skirt taking off your underwear, his lips was still exploring your chest, meanwhile, you were clenching his hair tightly as he was getting dangerously low.

Your skirt arose and the sudden breeze sent a shiver down your spine, there wasn't enough time given for adjustment befire being hit with another sensation, one of Shio's cold lips against your vagina's.

"Hnngg~"

The first lick got you squirming in your place, the second had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he just kept eating you out like a thirsty man, you couldn't suppress the sounds coming out simultaneously with his rhythmical mouth.

"S-S-Sirrr~ a-ah-ahh~", that sweet spot getting stimulated with his skilled tounge did what no sex toy ever could at the thought of him, your back arched, your legs quivering, and your tears forming, all loudly and clearly announced your orgasm.

Until Shio decided to pull his face away at the decisive moment, and remarked before you get to say a word, "You're not coming anywhere but on my cock."

His words followed with unbuckling noises of his belt, your eyes fell right to his boxers while he was about to free his massive member out.

A veiny 8-incher stood erect and throbbing before you, positioned in front of your hole without delay after its release, you swallowed your own saliva as if that thing haven't stretched you out on your lunch breaks and when he calls you for a top secret meeting, but you sensed this time was different since he usually arranges your "private sessions" during his horny hours, not as a stress relief from a personal matter like that day.

The forceful push oh his tip inside your hole proved you right, a thought came to your head that perhaps it was the lack of proper lubrication that's making the difference, but no more thoughts existed the more he squeezed himself in, your own arousal fluids helped soothe the path for him to get in all the way, he didn't care much for foreplay any further and began moving at a brutal pace.

The image of you two laying on your desk with everything knocked off of it for a quick and easy missionary, contradicted the one his siblings took of you two earlier that day from the coffee incident, and if one of them decided to come back due to the pornographic sounds you were making, there will be no way to explain it.

Shio's skin kept slamming into your heated one at an animalistical speed for god knows how long; your legs were getting sore and your face dried up from the tears running down from it, you held his collar tightly and brought him into your lips to tounge him into his edge.

You had no idea how, but he somehow managed to get faster, his scrunched up expression and sweaty palm were a visible threat for a close release; your confiscated one was reaching out too.

You felt the white painting your insides, with yours following not so long after, it was only then that you felt the suffocating weight on top of you, breathing heavily.

The brawn body backed away from you and he pulled his pants back up, "I will tell them the truth once i get my rightful place back, i promise."

You stared at him, completely worn out, then faced the light peeking in with a shadow hiding behind it, "No need, i left the door open..."

@sagephilosophie

#i write! #negai no astro smut #negai no astro x reader #negai no astro #astro royale smut #astro royale x reader #astro royale #shio yotsurugi x you #shio yotsurugi smut #shio yotsurugi x reader #shio yotsurugi #vee's

[stresslitzia]

Here in a sanctum long abandoned, Unto the tinder falls a spark. I have a holy call to answer, to be an Angel of the Dark.

(Sparkle on, btw)

#Stresslitzia's Art #kingdom hearts #Lauriam #khux #Time spent: 7 days #...I was just listening to this song and realized I never did a post-KH3 Lauriam design. #I blacked out and about two hours later had the lineart shading and half of the colors done #it doesn't look like my own work to me but I have the wrist pain to prove that it is. Look at the scythe. Look at the SCYTHE. #Anyway this was technically drawn for Re:U. as a gift. Come get your food Guile #I am. unreasonably proud of how this looks.

[amara-scott]

Imagine Mattheo and Theodore fighting over you constantly.

P.1

Reader x Mattheo Riddle / Reader x Theodore Nott

"The picknick was a good idea, I have to admit." I say, dropping another grape into my mouth, a full mouth turned into a smile. I sneak another one out of the basket Theo is carrying.

I glance over at Theo and he nods, grinning. He winks. "I know, Carina. I always have the best ideas, you should know that by now." I roll my eyes in amusement at his cocky statement.

As if on cue, I see a brown mop of curls rounding the corner, making me sigh. Great. Just great.

"Hey, what a surprise." Mattheo says, not seeming too happy as his eyes land on Theodore beside me. Mattheo shuffles something inside his jacket, flashing white, which I only catch a glimpse of. But I can't even question what it was before these two begin staring each other down.

An undeniably painful pause is the only thing holding me back from just turning around to run away. It's scaring me to even move a muscle. If these two don't sort out whatever is bugging them, I won't hesitate and avoid them both. I really did try to help them befriend each other once more. Their inner rivalry didn't get unnoticed by the rest of our friend group either. What has gotten into them these past few weeks?

"(Y/N), let's get going." Theo's free hand wraps around my wrist, not even glancing at me once while talking. He turns and tries to pull me with him, but not before Mattheo steps up, pushing Theo.

I stumble with him, still being in the grasp of Theo's strong hand. He let go and I take a step back.

"Excuse me?!" I get out before straightening up, rearranging my cloak. My glare hits Mattheo, but he is fixed on the boy in front of him as they now nearly graze noses. If I didn't know these two, I'd say one of them would be a Gryffindor. That would make sense at least. This is worse than Draco and Harry.

"Where do you think you're taking her, huh?" He grits out, and I can't say a word, too stunned I am being dragged into this ongoing fight now.

"Stop it, both of you!" I yell, but neither of them are backing down, making it really hard not to just ask a Professor to break them off. I glance around, only a few students hushing past, not daring to spare a look.

"We are going somewhere that is none of your concern, Riddle."

"Yeah? I don't think so, Nott."

"Why don't you fuck off and shag one of your whores, mind your own damn business!"

I had never seen either of them so worked up, which certainly was scary to look at. I try once more, "boys, come on, this is ridiculous." I gulp as they still don't look at me. My heart starts racing, and I try to find a way out that won't result in broken noses or wands at each other throats. What is going on with these two?!

"Come on, (Y/N)." Theo says again, making me debate what I should do. Pick a side? I don't want to be the reason one is more mad or disappointed by what I do.

"No." I mumble, feeling my eyes sting as I blink. I gulp once more, Theo's eyes finding my form a few feet behind Mattheo. His face relaxes as he looks at me.

"See? She doesn't want you, Nott." I can only make out the corner of Mattheo's lips as they curl up into a grin. Which doesn't help my situation.

"I'm not picking a side here, Matt, you are both acting extremely childish over – over, who knows what!" I turn and storm off, ignoring Matt and Theo yelling my name.

These idiots took it too far now. I won't speak a word – won't spare them another glance. Ugh, boys!

___

"-and he pushed Theo! Like a little kid! What is going on with these two?" I sat across from Pansy, piercing my fork into my piece of chocolate cake over and over again until it went mushy and the appetite left me. I sigh, my fork dropping onto the table, and I bury my face into my hands.

"You know them. They will get over it. Theo probably stole Matt's last fudge fly. They're boys, just like you said." She mumbles and keeps chewing on her dessert, eyes scanning the next page of her Witch Weekly magazine.

"I hope you're right." I mutter under my breath.

"Hey you two-" Draco joins us at the table, sitting down next to Pansy, Enzo settles beside me, I send him a brief smile.

"What's pestering you, (Y/N)? Or should I ask – who's pestering you?" He snickers and earns a stare from Pansy, making him shut up.

"Wait – do you know something, Draco?" I ask him and squint my eyes at him. He obviously does, as he stutters for a word, shaking his head. His cheeks slightly pink.

"Enzo, what is going on? Where are the others?" I turn to him, he sighs but shakes his head, sending me a small and sorry smile.

"I promised not to tell anyone. Especially not you, love." I grow irritated with the lot and push myself up, sending another glare at Draco, he would be easier to break. I take out my wand, holding it by my side and start boring holes into his head. He tries to avoid my deathly stare. But then he makes the mistake of connecting his eyes with mine.

"If you won't tell me right now where they are, I will personally make sure to have you grow a second nose every day, for the rest of the year – you will smell things you wish you didn't –"

"– come on, (Y/N), we promised –"

"– In the library, in the far back corner on the second level –" Draco squeaks, making Enzo glare at him in shock.

"We promised, Draco!"

"I don't care, I know she'll do it. I don't want a nose on my bum one morning! She knows how to get into our dorm." Draco snarls and glares at the table as I hurry off. Pansy only smirking and eating her second dessert in peace.

"Go get them!" She calls out without looking up and I wave her off, pushing past a few people on my way. My heart is racing and I don't know if I want to even meet these idiots. I promised myself to ignore them. Well that didn't take long for me to break.

I round the corner and walk into the library. My racing thoughts made this quiet place unbearable as I heard every damn thought of mine. But just as I take the last couple steps on the stairwell, I am met with hushed shouting.

"– how about you're both idiots? I really am hungry and if you two make me miss dinner, you won't sleep another night –" I hear Blaise taunting. I glance between a few books on the shelf, making out three heads. There they are. Blaise sits by the window, I could see his face clear as day. Theo sat sideways, eyes turned to the table in between them both. Mattheo on the other hand stands, pacing back and forth. He stops, just as my breath.

"Theo simply has to admit that he went behind my back. He took away the only thing that really mattered –"

"The only thing that mattered? The only thing that mattered to you was to simply get laid! Like always – just pick a different girl!" Theo stands up too now, Mattheo stepping up to his figure.

Blaise suddenly steps between them, hands on either chest and looks back and forth. "Hey, boys, you truly think we haven't had these lines already tonight? You're both ridiculous."

So this is about a girl? Is this about –

"Well, (Y/N) would never pick someone like you."

Shit.

"Like me? You're one to talk, Nott – stealing her from me, right after I told you I liked her. I trusted you, you are supposed to be my fucking best mate!" Their hushed voices are not so hushed anymore and I glance down to Miss Pince's desk. She narrows her eyes, scanning the upper level.

Blaise is struggling to hold Mattheo back now, Theo's lips curling into a smirk. I lean closer, my eyes still wide. How do they both like – me? Is this a stupid prank?

WHACK!

I was obviously leaning onto the shelf a bit too much as a book fell to the ground. Their heads turn to me and I could now clearly see all of them through the opening. I give them a weak smile and wave. "Hey –"

"(Y/N)?" Theo asks, stepping forward, around the shelf. I meet him half way, Mattheo’s eyes as hard as stone. My mouth feels dry while I try to think of what to say. I shrug and try to smile. My eyes land on Blaise who seems relieved, sighing as he walks up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, glancing between Theo and Matt.

“Maybe you’re the best to talk to them right now.” He pats my shoulder and turns to leave, I turn my head, wanting to tell him to stay, my heart racing. Blaise stops, glancing back at me. “Good luck.” He smirks and skips down the staircase. I really don’t want to turn back around so I take my time, gulping as I focus on both their shoe pairs instead of any eyes. Theo steps up slowly. “Carina, what did you hear?” My eyes shoot up at his question and Matt huffs, falling back into a cushioned arm chair.

“Obviously she heard it all. Otherwise she would be smacking our heads by now.” He mumbles at the end, his head held high as he’s glaring down at his knees, his hands squeezing the soft armrests. His sharp jaw clenching every now and then.

“I- I really-“ I take a deep breath shaking my head. “- don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Theo sends me a small encouraging smile. Matt’s head rolls back as he groans out.

“Oh please, stop that stupid emphasizing scheme!” Matt stands back up and joins us, glaring at Theo in disgust. Theo just rolls his eyes, turning to him.

“Just because you’re cold-hearted and only care about yourself doesn’t mean everyone has to-“

“-oh I only care about myself? You’re one to talk, fucking backstabber-“

“-Me? You are-“

“Hey!” I yell out, them both turning to me as they are once again almost choking each other. I ignore a few shushes thrown our way. Mattheo’s eyes soften as I look directly at him. His lips part and in his eyes I see that he’s struggling to hold back from saying what’s on his mind. “Matt-“ I get out, holding back my own emotional rollercoaster.

“I- I can’t-“ He stammers, rushing past me and running down the stairs, leaving. I walk up to the railing, my hands closing around the cold wood while I am looking after him.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” My head snaps around, Theo’s sad eyes glossy. He looks down, stepping closer and stops a foot from me. His eyes wandering back up, like he’s taking one last good look at me. Taking me in.

“It’s always been him.” He continues.

———

For part two choose your ending:

Mattheo (coming soon)

Theodore (coming soon)

#imagine #imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys

[marvelfilth]

Little death (18+)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: g!p Wednesday, soft Wednesday, established relationship, smut, blow job, cockwarming, lots of Italian petnames.

Summary: working with normies takes a toll on Wednesday, but, luckily, you're always there to make it better.

A/n: I don't know any Italian, so please tell me if I made any mistakes.

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of the front door clicking shut. Blinking blearily you hide a yawn behind your palm. The clock reads eleven pm and you sigh, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you trudge into the kitchen, where Wednesday fixes herself a cup of coffee. You frown, stepping into her line of vision.

"Cara mia," she greets, "you should be asleep." She frowns as you unsuccessfully try to hide another yawn.

"I wanted to wait for you." You gesture to the couch and Wednesday grips the cup tighter.

You know she doesn't like it when you sacrifice sleep for her sake, but what she doesn't know is that you can't properly rest without her by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Lately she's been spending more and more time at the station, working twice as hard as her peers to receive twice as little credit. It's eating away at both of you. She claims it doesn't bother her - the way they refuse to take her seriously, even when she solves cases that usually take months in weeks - but you see it in her rigid posture and the clench of her jaw. She wants recognition and she has every right to demand it.

"I still have some work to do." Her tone is monotone, but her eyes betray her emotions - she hates the words just as much as you do.

You nod. "I'll heat up your dinner." You turn around to busy yourself at the stove, but a hand on your wrist stops you.

"I'm not hungry." Her words are barely a whisper. "Go back to sleep. In our bed."

You want to argue, but you see the look in her eyes, the one that tells you you won't win. So you push her fringe to the side and place a tender kiss to her forehead. "Don't stay too long, okay?"

She nods reluctantly and takes measured steps to her office, a cup of coffee in hand.

You sink against the counter, shaking your head. The girl is going to work herself to death.

You remember the first time you asked her why she is so adamant on working at the police station when she has the money, the means and the skill to open her own firm. You remember the way she stood up straighter (you didn't even know it was possible) and told you only one thing, "No matter how much it pains me to admit it, they're far more experienced then I am, and their expertise is one I can learn from."

You sigh and walk into your bedroom, accompanied by the tapping of Wednesday's typewriter. You decide to give her an hour, tops.

Thing taps on the nightstand rapidly, despite the exhaustion you can clearly see in the added wrinkles on the pale skin. You shake your head, "You'll lose a finger if you do that."

He slumps back dramatically, and you can almost see him huff.

"I'll get her in an hour, don't worry. Just go rest."

He leaves with that, albeit begrudgingly, and you make sure he doesn't go anywhere near Wednesday's office to hide her briefcase.

You spend at least twenty minutes laying on the bed and staring mindlessly at the ceiling. When half an hour passes you get up and make your own cup of coffee, sleep already forgotten by the time you take the last sip.

Thing wiggles a finger at you and you roll your eyes, "It's one cup, Thing, I'll be fine."

He taps on the pillow and you sigh.

"Yes, I'm aware it's almost midnight."

He taps again, this time forcefully and you feel like a reprimanded child.

"Okay! I get it. No need to act like my mom. I just don't want to fall asleep and let Wednesday work until the morning," you mumble, earning a sympathetic pat on your shoulder.

You look at the clock again. Quarter to midnight.

You decide to test your luck.

"I told you to go back to sleep."

You burrow into her neck, your breath fanning the skin there. "You don't need to apologize." You start loosening her tie, and take it off when she doesn't protest.

You freeze in the doorway. Your girlfriend continues typing, but you can tell she hears you shuffling around as you make your way to her.

"You had coffee." She says as soon as your arms circle her shoulders. She sighs and pushes back against you, letting her head fall on your shoulder in a display of vulnerability only you are allowed to witness. "I'm sorry," she utters.

"Cuore mio," she mumbles, tilting her head to grant you access.

You hum, peppering her neck with featherlight kisses, hands sneaking beneath the collar of her shirt to trace her collarbones.

"Let me take care of you, Weds." Your words press into her skin, your lips brushing the sensitive spot on her neck. "Please?"

She pushes your hands away and turns her chair to face you and it's the only answer you need. You sit on her lap, her hands land on your waist, squeezing gently. Her eyes close as you unbutton her shirt, and she relaxes in your hold, almost melting into the leather of her office chair. You waste no time in getting it off, presenting yourself with a delicious view of her pale body. You lean lower to tease her breasts with your teeth. Her hands slide lower on your waist and you take it as a sign to move. You take off her bra in one swift motion and throw it on the floor, latching on the exposed skin faster than it hits the floor.

She whimpers quietly, the sound almost going unnoticed by you. You grind on her lap, feeling her harden, and get back to work, enveloping the other nipple in the warmth of your mouth, enjoying the way she arches into you.

"I'm gonna use my mouth, okay?" You breathe out, palming her over her pants.

She nods shakily as her hands settle on your ass, squeezing possessively. "Anything you want."

You squeeze her shaft before climbing off her lap onto the floor, but she stops you, blinking as she looks around the room. Her eyes glint and she reaches to grab a blanket you gifted her off the small sofa. She folds it neatly before placing it on the floor near her feet, only then allowing you to kneel before her.

You feel like you're about to explode.

"I love you," you whisper, kissing her knee, "so much."

Her face lights up with a rare smile, making your heart squeeze tightly in your chest. "I know, mia amata, I know." The term of endearment so easily slipping past her lips makes you nuzzle into her thigh, littering it with kisses.

You don't know how you got so lucky.

She gently massages your scalp, not rushing you as you both bask in the moment. You pull away just enough to undo her belt and buttons on her pants. She lifts her hips and you slide them off slowly, revealing the bulge poorly concealed by her boxers. Her fingers thread through your hair and you lean to kiss her through the fabric, enhaling her deep, musky scent. The twitch is barely noticeable, but it makes you quicken your pace, eagerly tugging her underwear down to reveal her thick shaft. You sit back on the balls of your feet to take in the sight of her sprawled on the chair, her legs spread and her cock standing proudly, waiting for your mouth to claim it.

Wednesday squeezes the back of your neck, asking, pleading, and you comply, taking the reddened head of her cock between your lips and sucking, enticing a low moan.

You grip her thighs with both hands and bury her shaft deep in your throat, blinking away the tears.

"Don't hurt yourself," she manages to whimper, her fingers painfully tight on your neck.

You hum around her, earning a low whine and start bobbing your head up and down. Her moans grow louder each time your nose buries in her dark hair, her hips snapping up to meet you halfway.

You can tell she's close.

"Just like that, tesorino," She cries out, and finally forces your face down, using you to pleasure herself. You gag around her thick length, swallowing precum.

She thrusts fast, blabbering in Italian as she chases her high. Her eyes roll to the back of her head with a final snap of her hips and she cums, her cock buried deep inside your throat.

You struggle to breath and swallow, pulling away from her and letting her paint your neck and breasts white.

You catch your breath, reveling in her reddened cheeks and heaving chest.

She lazily reaches behind her to rummage around one of the drawers and pulls out a box of wipes. She works slowly, tenderly brushing your skin clean. Then, she tugs on the string of your silk robe, her pupils blowing even wider when your naked body is finally revealed. She pats her thighs and you don't wate a second in straddling her. You pull her in a tender kiss, one full of love and promise.

She guides you up and nudges the tip of her cock against your entrance and you sink down, clenching around her length.

"Can you keep still for me?" She asks, her voice hoarse.

You nod, glancing at the mess of her desk. "How long will it take?" You ask, knowing full well you'd stay forever if that's what she wanted.

"Not long." With that she turns back around, places her chin on your shoulder and goes through the papers on her desk as you struggle not to whine, your pussy pulsing at the slightest nudge from the ravenette.

You relax against her when she finally settles, and burrow your face into her neck, smiling. She places occasional kisses to your temple, making sure not to jostle you too much.

She enjoys torture, but not when it comes to you.

Your eyes start to drop and you decide to busy yourself with undoing her braids, untangling from her to face her fully, the motion making you both swallow back a moan. Your fingers thread through the dark tresses with utmost care, massaging her shoulders on your way up and finally fully undoing her braids, letting her hair fall free.

She looks breathtaking.

"Bed?" She asks, and you realize you've been admiring her far longer than you thought. You nod, slumping against her.

She gets up without as much as a hitch to her breath, cupping your ass and pushing you snug against her, her dick rubbing inside you deliciously. You moan into her ear, urging her to move faster and she complies, gently laying you down on the bed not even five seconds later.

She cradles your face between her palms and peppers it with kisses as she starts moving inside you, setting up a pace. "Anima mia." A kiss on the underside of your jaw. "Luce della mia vita." A chaste kiss on your lips, as she fastens her thrusts. "Sei il mio tutto." She mutters, losing herself in your body.

You're too out of it to understand what she's saying, simply nodding to each statement and squeezing tighter around her with each foreign word. She stretches you, bottoming out in your gushing center. Her mouth busies itself on your breasts, paying enough attention to each hardened nub.

"Wednesday, I'm-" you cry out, pushing her head back down when she tries to look up, "Keep going please, please, please," you moan, letting tears spill free.

"Let go for me," she whispers, "now, cara mia."

You come with a loud cry, arching into her, squeezing her length as she releases inside you with a low whine.

"I love you," you pant as she falls on your chest.

She hums softly, her eyes growing heavier by second, and nuzzles deeper into you. "I love you," she mutters at last, before finally surrendering to sleep.

-------------------

Cara mia - my dear

Cuore mio - my heart

Mia amata - my love

Tesorino - sweetheart

Anima mia - my soul

Luce della mia vita - light of my life

Sei il mio tutto - you're my everything

Requested by 🧞‍♀️ anon

#wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #Wednesday #wednesday smut #jenna ortega smut #little death

[dearbraus]

His Grace is no Gentleman ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Wriothesley

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, afab!reader (they wear a dress but are not referred to by feminine terms or gender pronouns), Wrio is taller than the reader (he is 6'6), author self insert coded fic, arranged dates, courtship, childhood friends, awkward tension, societal conventions, first date, semi-public sex, oral sex (reader receiving), clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampies, doggy style, Wrio is a gentleman, reader is a hot mess, slight insecurities, ambiguous ending. ⊹ Run time. 4.3k ⊹ Note. I started this fic before he was introduced in the archon quest so his lore doesn't line up 100% to canon so consider this a canon divergent fic <3

❝After years apart, you find yourself on a date with your childhood friend Wriothesley. With late summer heat that stifles and chokes and an unbearable amount of tension, you search for a way to reconnect with the stranger who stands before you.❞

The August air was stifling, a thick muggy heat hung low around the Court of Fontaine. Sweat and moisture clung to bodies like a second skin as summer held its last hurrah before fall elbowed its way in and left the region plunged in the wet season. Both were tortuous in their own ways but as you stood among throngs of hot, sweat-dabbled bodies, you’d much rather be shivering and damp as the cool autumn air rattled your bones. The small, lace-covered fan that hung off your wrist did little to quell the flush that filled your cheeks. It pushed around the warm air and swatted the heavy perfume that the woman next to you wore into your throat and eyes, making you choke.

Pushing your way out of the main gala room, you stumble through the halls, opening and closing doors until you happen upon a small empty room that looks upon one of the dozen decorative balconies that cover the outside of the building. The door shuts behind you with a loud slam but you pay little mind to it as you plop onto the first cushy chair within your reach. The cool evening air that filtered in through the open windows provided the slightest bit of relief. Plucking the gloves off your fingers you sigh, slouching further into your chair.

“I take it the gala has bored you?” A familiar voice asks, you jolt upright, your heart leaping in surprise, “I suppose I should have warned that the twins do take their time in setting up the stage for their performance.”

Wriothesley hovers near the doorway, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself comfortable you didn’t notice the door opening behind you. Rising to your feet, you attempt to mask the cringe that covers your expression. 

“Your grace!” You exclaim, smoothing the layers of your skirt down in an attempt to make yourself appear presentable, “You have it all wrong! I was feeling faint from the heat.”

His pale blue eyes flit up and down your figure, “You do appear rather … flustered,” he states, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I extended to you an invitation to attend this gala with me.”

“Indeed, you did,” you blink.

“That makes me your date,” Wriothesley all but spells out, “You could have told me you were feeling ill.”

“Right.”

Guilt burns in your stomach. You had been a bit bored making small talk and you would have bolted at the first chance even if you hadn’t been sweltering. Wriothesley was a kind enough man and though you knew him during the tender years of childhood, the unfamiliarity that came with your growing pains left each interaction with him rather awkward. He was never the most talkative child and now as a man grown he’d become hardened by life and his stringent line of work. His austere gaze was disconcerting and unintentionally left your skin pimpled by chills.

“My apologies, your grace,” you reflexively dip your head into an apologetic bow, “I was not thinking clearly, I did not intend to abandon you, I assure you that I am very grateful to be here with you.”

It only takes a few steps for Wriothesley to stand before you thanks to his long stride. He appears somewhat disappointed in your response and you're an inch away from trying to kick yourself for offending him. A gasp cuts through the air when Wriothesley’s fingers wrap around your face, your lips forcibly protruding as he squishes your cheeks in the palm of his hand. The callouses that mar his skin are rough against your face, now that he’s just inches away you can see the blotchy yellow bruises littered across both of his knuckles and the barely visible mark on the underside of his jaw.

“I hate when you call me that,” he grits, a rare look of frustration crossing his features, “You know my name, you can say it.”

His voice is stern, but you don’t feel as if you’re being scolded though he regards you as little other than a petulant child. 

“I want you to.”

You blankly blink up at him, gesturing with your hand to where he holds your face. Wriothesley releases you with an apology muttered beneath his breath, loudly clearing his throat afterward.

“Wriothesley,” the syllables of his name feel strange on your tongue after all these years, too many were spent turning him into some imposing, faraway figure, “You should know I have never been one to enjoy the festivities or formalities of court, the demands are far too taxing on my delicate constitution.”

He laughs at your slight joke and you crack a demure smile. It frustrated your parents and governess endlessly, your staunch refusal to partake in anything resembling formal gathering utterly maddening on the best of days. He’d seen the worst when you were six and he was ten but all that remained of that day was hazy memories of a tantrum, being dragged kicking and screaming down the stairs, and your parents' embarrassed expressions as they apologized to Wriothesley’s family for the dramatics on your behalf. But, you were no longer six and ten, a meltdown was no way to react to an invitation when you were well into your twenties even when the thought of spending time alone with a childhood friend felt all too daunting.

Every detail had to be nothing short of perfection when toeing about the court. Though, Wriothesley had been afforded the luxury of escaping such lessons as he grew far from the controlling hands of society. Etiquette lessons and expectations did not taint him or plague his mind as they did you. His gentlemanly disposition must have been pure charm on his part, he’d been kind to you and nothing short of gallant despite his rather gruff exterior. His reputation greatly preceded him these days and the weight of this evening was not lost to you. It wasn’t often he had time to himself, let alone time to entertain others. If you bungled this affair when your parents were hoping for a love match, you’d be humiliated and they’d be furious with you.

They held far more respect for a man gifted a title that was never his to own than they did for you, their flesh and blood. If they knew half of what you did, they wouldn’t feel so passionately but you supposed overflowing coiffers could breed enough ignorance to turn any man into an eligible bachelor.

“That I do,” he agreed with a humble nod, “That is why I chose a magic show, all the attention would be placed upon the stars of the show.”

“Thanks.”

Wriothesley gently cups your cheek, though his body seems rather rigid his expression is filled with sincerity. The gesture offers little comfort as he intended it to, but you feel the slightest bit better about continuing this evening. As you lean into his touch, chasing the tendrils of what used to offer relief when you felt unease, you smile at him as a sign of good faith. As if the slightest tick of your lips upward would erase the discomfort he brought you, when Wriothesley was here with his heart on his sleeve trying just as you were. 

You force your lips into a smile in hopes of disguising the way your heart uncomfortably thrummed against your ribcage. The feeling of discontentment that soaked through your skin made your face prickle warmly with shame. You wanted to feel comforted by him but the weight of your parent's expectations crushed you like a bug beneath slippered feet. The heat of his gaze searching your face brought a whimper to your lips. It was throaty and low, quite pathetic too but you were sure that the sound wouldn’t reach Wriothesley’s ears.

But, it did.

A splash of pink washes over the tip of his nose and the tops of his cheekbones. His brows shoot up into his hairline as his eyes widen in shock, “Are you … Alright?” Wriothesley choked out, blinking rapidly at you, “I have not made you uncomfortable have I?”

“I … I am quite well,” you murmur shyly, sweat gathers at the nape of your neck and your knees threaten to buckle from the intensity of his stare.

He’s rather fixated on your mouth, you can feel how his eyes trail over the dip of your cupids bow. His tongue, pink and wet, darts out to wet his plush bottom lip. You can’t help but stare too. Wriothesley had always been cute, cute in a way that had all the lords and ladies of the country constantly cooing over how darling he was. With unruly raven-coloured hair and round rosy cheeks, he was like a doll come to life and he didn’t go a day where he wasn’t reminded. It filled his mother with such satisfaction that you would have thought it was her constantly being lavished with attention. Now though, as a man whose stature brushed just under 6’6, he was anything but cute. He was rather handsome, that much you allowed yourself to admit when you set your eyes upon him for the first time in several years, devastatingly so. Had your nerves not been so scrambled, you might have taken a moment to admire the man he’d grown into.

“Are you sure?”

You nod your head so your voice doesn’t betray you but the moment is far too quick. It’s almost eager. The calloused pad of his thumb slides against your cheek, it nearly brushes the corner of your mouth. Your breath hitches and for a moment you allow yourself to wonder. Would it be so wrong to shirk societal convention? It couldn’t be, not when it was just you and he, alone in this room with no prying eyes to cast judgment upon each minuscule movement. He must know this too, why else would he gaze upon you with such heat in his eyes?

“Indeed, I am,” you whisper, your throat tightening, “Do I seem unwell?”

Wriothesley shrugs, his lips pursing, “You seem …” His voice trails off, growing gruff near the end, “Can I not simply inquire about my oldest friend?”

“You may if that should please you.”

His face nears yours, his breath fanning across the bridge of your nose as he inches closer. Tendrils of his hair flop over his forehead and tickles your skin as he looms over you. The heat radiating off his body draws you closer, chasing what you once longed to escape.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours, his mouth dangerously close to yours, “And what pleases you?” He rasps, allowing his eyes to grow lidded.

Your jaw slacks, your lips forming a slight “o” shape as you fight off the wanton sound that claws at the inside of your throat. His lashes, long and wispy, sweep across his cheekbones but they hardly hide the dark inky pools of his expanded pupils. You can almost see your reflection within them, you’re thankful it's obscured. If you look as off-kilter as you felt, you’d rather not know.

Any response you may have had for him shrivels up and dies on the tip of your tongue. Furling your fingers into the fine satin of his shirt you offer Wriothesley a pathetically pleading look in hopes that he could still read you as well as he did in your tender years of youth. It seems in all your years apart, he hasn’t learned the art of reading minds nor expressions because he peers at you expectantly, waiting for something other than worried noises to leave you.

You can feel his heart thrumming through the thin material of his dress shirt, “Wrio …” You sigh, your eyes flickering between his mouth and eyes, “It should please me if you were to kiss me.”

Your voice warbles and you have no choice but to avert your gaze to focus on the scarred expanse of his neck. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his veins bulge beneath his skin as he clenches his jaw. The cool breeze that drifts through the open window rustles your dress and rattles your bones as you shiver. You move to take a step back, but his other hand flies out to grab your waist. His fingers press into your thick corsetted top, nearly grazing the space where your top meets your skirt and your skin is exposed.

“I must admit this is how I hoped the evening would end,” Wriothesley confesses as he tips your chin upward, his mouth ghosts over yours and your breaths mingle as he speaks, “But did not anticipate my fantasy would come to fruition.”

His bottom lip brushes against yours, “Is it fantasy if I am here and I am asking?”

Wriothesley shakes his head before dipping down to bring his lips to yours, tentatively kissing you. The air in your lungs exits in the form of steam blowing out from your ears and you feel lightheaded. Years of pent up want pours out from your mouth and drips into his, he laps it up with a fervent vigour that will plague you tomorrow when you reflect on this evening. He’s the only person you could open yourself up to. Wriothesley cared little for societal convention and conducted himself without any of the fanfare that followed a title like duke. You and he were human; carved from flesh, blood, and want. The shared desire that flickered in the spaces between your bodies also harboured an unspoken understanding. If you were amiable, he could fuck you on the floor of this empty drawing room and there’d be no expectation of a ring. You were unsure if marriage was what you wished for but you couldn’t deny the want that lived like a beast in your belly.

You stumble backward as the weight of him presses into you. His broad stature threatens to full engulf you and your frame. You welcome it, allowing his rough and inexperienced grip to persist even when it becomes uncomfortable. His tongue slips past your lips to lave over yours. The needy little sounds Wriothesley draws are drowned out but the wet smack of your mouths meeting. Your ears burn with embarrassment but it’s nothing compared to the heal that pools in your belly. It’s difficult to discern whether it's the muggy cloud that’s descended upon Fontaine scorching your skin or if it was the bubbling desires that grew far past a manageable, quiet simmer.

Wriothesley possessed a cryo vision, you thought his touch would be frigid but he melts your rigid, nervous exterior as his hands move to grope your waist. There isn’t much to feel, your frame is swathed with layers of thick, expensive fabrics. You managed to talk your mother out of tying a hoop skirt around your hips to elongate your figure. Still, there’s an unwanted barrier between you and the rough calloused palms you wish would tug your corset loose and make their way between your legs.

“More,” you pant between fevered kisses, yanking on his hard enough to pop a few buttons loose and reveal his scar-covered, hairy chest, “I want more.”

Your unspoken words hang precariously between your aching bodies. Wriothesley knows well enough, he must with the way you eagerly press your hips flush against his.

“Should that please you?”

You nod before your mouth can form words, “Yes,” you whisper though it sounds far closer to a whimper, the cocky smile that stretches across his face squashes the growing embarrassment that blooms and prickles at your chest, “It would please me greatly if you were to get on your knees before me.”

His expression turns wicked at your confession as if he’s pleased by your honesty. It’s the first time this evening that you haven’t minced your words or lathered them in half-truths to avoid confrontation. Wriothesley makes quite the show of sinking to his knees before you, the fine material of his slacks grows taunt around his muscular thighs and offers you an eyeful of his bulge. 

“And what shall I do now?”

Slipping his hand beneath the hem of your gown, Wriothesley curls his fingers around your ankle and rubs a small circle into the silver of exposed skin, “Don’t play coy,” you whine as you thread your fingers into his hair, turning the nicely coiffed style into an unruly mess, “It is unbecoming of you, you know what I want Wriothesley.”

“Do I?” He wonders out loud, his mouth only snapping shut when he catches sight of your displeased expression, “Fine, I do!”

The beginnings of a sneer are quickly wiped from your face when Wriothesley ducks his head beneath the layers of your skirt. Clamping your bottom lip between your teeth, you fight off the shudder that slithers up your spine when his hot breath hits your wet cunt.

“No small clothes?” He questions, you can hear the smug expression he wears bleed into his words.

“Shut up!” You stammer, reaching behind you to steady yourself on the side chair, “It is far too hot for all these layers.”

Whatever he murmurs next is muffled and falls deaf on your straining ears. Your nails dig into the plush arm of the chair as he plants a sloppy, open-mouth kiss on your mound. Your knees nearly buckle but the ironclad grip Wriothesley has on your thighs keeps you standing upright as he brushes his mouth along your labia. His teeth poke out from his top lip and graze against your throbbing clit. Your stomach leaps into your chest at the sensation, your head growing heavier.

“Archons above,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll back.

The soft pleasured sound that dribbles down your tongue must reach his ears because his mouth falls open and with it, his tongue lolls out. The wet, hot heat of his mouth on your pussy draws a wanton whimper from you. Your ribs rattle from the heavy pants of breath that pass your lips in quick succession. His tongue swirls around your clit before he wraps his lips around the bud to suckle on it.

Your nails scrape uncomfortably against the plush velvet of the chair but your grip only tightens as pleasure fans across your sweat-dabbled skin. Your head drops against your shoulder and your hips arch forward as if you could bring yourself closer to him. The muscles in your belly grow taunt, and the feeling of his rough hands on the bare skin of your thighs and hips makes your toes curl.

“Wriothesley,” you moan, cursing under your breath when he lays his tongue flat against your folds and licked a strip from your sopping wet hole to your pulsing clit.

It grows tighter, the little coil in your belly that reminds your brain that bliss is coming so you fight the panic-stricken urge to shed your constricting corset and relax. Your chest heaves, the fat of your breasts bulging and nearly spilling out from your décolletage. You try to tell him that you’re close, to spur him on but all that comes out is a mumbly mess of moans and half words that trail off into unabashed, needy whines.

You don’t register that his tongue and mouth have left your weeping cunt throbbing and unsatisfied until his dishevelled head pops out from beneath your skirts. His thin lips are puffy and glossed with your slick. It drips down his chin in a rather obscene manner that makes your chest ache with need until your brain begins to speed up. A petulant whine gathers at the back of your throat and is ready to pierce Wriothesley’s pride once you’ve realized that he has left you without reprieve. The forceful press of his mouth to yours wipes your mind clear of any lingering disappointment.

The taste of you lingers on him, it’s slightly musky and twinged with the salt of sweat. You groan into Wriothesley as he rolls your taste around your tongue and the gums of your teeth. It is filthy and uncouth but the sweltering pit of desire within you grinds your reservations to dust. His belt and the set of handcuffs attached clink against one another as Wriothesley uses his free hand to free his cock from his slacks

“Lift ‘em,” he grunts with a nod of his head, “I- hah, need to be inside you, lift your skirts and turn around. Now.”

The bulbous red tip of his cock oozes precum as Wriothesley gives the base a firm squeeze. Gathering the layers of your skirts, you tentatively turn around to face the armchair. With a warm, steady hand pressed to the small of your back, he guides you to rest one leg up on the plush seat and angles the rest of you to lean against the back. Your body burns with something that dances between utter mortification and thrill. Calloused palms smooth over the supple skin of your ass as he slides his cock along the seam of your cunt to gather your arousal.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Your hands tremble with anticipation as you crane your neck to peek at him from over your shoulder. His bottom lip is smushed between his teeth, you’re surprised it doesn’t bleed, his eyes are pressed shut, and his head is thrown back. The two of you moan when Wriothesley presses his cock to your hole, the stretch burns and tears begin to prickle at your eyes from the slight pain. They spill over your lash line and slip down your cheeks when he thrusts into you. The heat of his body is suffocating as he presses his chest to your spin, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You can take it,” he whispers gruffly against the shell of your ear, “I know you can.”

His chapped lips graze across your cheekbone and his tongue darts out to lap up your tears, “Wrio…” You whimper, burying your face into the arm of the chair, “You better make me finish.”

Your command comes out feeble since your cheek is smushed against the chair and your voice is thickly coated with wanton need. Still, his hand snakes around your body and beneath your bunched up skirts to stroke your clit as he thrusts into you from behind, grunting into your ear. Your head spins as his cock slowly slides in and out of your velvet walls, the rough pads of his fingertips against your clit steal away your breath as pinpricks of pleasure zip up your spine.

“Uhuh,” Wriothesley absent mindedly groaned, his teeth catching on your ear lobe, “You’re taking me so well.”

There’s a hint of accusation in his words, or maybe you’re reading too into his words. Your brain had always been your worst enemy. Amidst the hazy swamp of lust and pleasure, there’s a small panicky voice that reminds you that life will go on outside of these walls and you’ll be stuck with the memories of desire fuelled actions that cannot be taken back. It nags at your brain, eating away at the space between your lungs at a terrifying speed and you realize despite the awkward tension that permeated the air, you didn’t want this to be the end of you and him.

You aren’t afforded the chance to ruminate on it for too long, your orgasm washes over you and swipes away the tangled web of thoughts that have made a home against your skull. Your throat is raw and scratchy as you moan out the broken syllables of his name. His chest rumbles with endeared laughter when your hand flies back to desperately seek purchase in his sturdy, warm frame. You manage to hook your fingers around his dress shirt, and the hard lines of his body tremble and contract with each sloppy thrust into your overstimulated hole. 

Sweat dribbles down the curve of your neck, “Please,” you plead for nothing in particular, your moving to speak words of no consequence because it needed something to do to stave off the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through you with each snap of his hips against your ass, “Give it to me, I need it.”

Your words seem to bring him there, his thrusts begin to stutter and cant forward and rest flush against the dough flesh of your ass as he cums, his hands squeezing at your torso as he buries his face into your shoulder. His spend seeps out of your cunt and sticks to your inner thighs. You’re sure it stains the waistband of Wriothesley’s dress pants but he says nothing as he nuzzles closer to your heaving body.

“You’re going to take me on a date,” you pant, swiping your knuckles across your brow bone to wipe away the perspiration gathered there, “Next week, somewhere private and quiet.”

Your chest tightens as you await for his response. It takes Wriothesley to gather his wits, his heavy breath slowing into a calm rhythm, “I can do that,” he says, chuckling a bit to himself, “But, only if you wear this dress again.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you mumble, “I think the fabric may be ruined from our sweat.”

You can’t see his face, but there's a smile on his lips that bites into his words, “A noble sacrifice, huh?” He jokes.

You nod a bit, biting your lip to hide your own growing grin.

“Only if you kiss me again, maybe then it’ll have been worth it.”

And he does, his stubbly jaw scratches against your face as he presses his lips to yours. You hope there will be more to come, on the streets of Fontaine and out in the wilds of the country. With the way he tenderly cups your jaw, and caresses the side of your face, you think there will be.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi smut #wriothesley x you #genshin impact smut

[androgynealienfemme]

"Yes, it's true: I was the type of young femme who managed the girls basketball team in high school, just to be able to take in the sight of all those butches parading their muscles up and down the court. I found Girl Scout camp to be femme heaven and reveled in being able to explore my athletic self and still maintain my femmeness. And, to my horror, I have to admit pushing Tina away from my breasts in the back seat of a Buick while attending Mount Saint Mary Seminary. And then there was feminism... Although I came out as a "gay" woman before reading The Feminine Mystique, the seventies brand of white feminism had me trimming my nails and cutting off my hair. Soon I was outfitted in farmer jeans and high tops. And still I was told by my "sisters" that I didn't "look like a dyke" (read: I didn't look butch). I began to lead two lives- one as an outrageous, skirted, lipsticked femme while I worked in and traveled with carnivals, and another as an imitation butch back home in the women's community. Eventually, I pulled the pieces of my being back together and proclaimed boldly, "I am a working-class lesbian femme." So I had maybe six years reveling in unleashing my seductive femme self when, as lives go, mine changed: slowly at first and then more dramatically. Recurring back pain and limited range of mobility were finally diagnosed. Soon after came decreased mobility. No more mountain climbing. No long mall walks in search of the perfect piece of sleaze. No more standing against kitchen walls being gloriously fucked by some handsome butch. I stopped using alcohol and drugs, became ill with what is now known as CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and began to use a three-wheeled power chair. The more disabled I became, the more I mourned the ways my sexual femme self had manifested through the nondisabled me: cruising at the local lezzie bar, picking up a dyke whose eyes refuse to stray from mine, dancing seductively, moving all of me for all of her. Cooking: love and suggestion neatly tucked into the folds of a broccoli quiche. Serving my date in varying, sleazy clothing, removing layers as the meal and our passion progressed. And making love... feeling only pleasure as my hips rose and fell under the weight of her. Accomplishment and pride smirked across my face as her wrists finally submitted to the pressure of strong persistent hands. There are the ways I knew to be femme, to be the essence of me.

It's been five years now since I began using my wheelchair. I am just awakening to a new reclamation of femme. Yes. I still grieve the way I was, am still often unsure how this femme with disabilities will act out her seduction scenes. I still marvel when women find passion amidst the chrome and rubber that is now a part of me.

There have been numerous dates, lovers, relationships, sexual partners, and fliterations along the way. Cindy, Jenny, Ellie, Emma, Diane, Dorothy, Gail, June, Clove, Lenny, Cherry, Diana, Sarah I, and Sarah II. You have all reminded me in your own subtle or overt, quit or wild ways that I am desirable, passionate, exciting, wanted.

Yes I am an incredibly sexual being. An outrageous, loud mouthed femme who's learning to dress, dance, cook, and seduce on wheels; finding new ways to be gloriously fucked by handsome butches and aggressive femmes. I hang out with more sexual outlaws now- you know, the motorcycle lesbians who see wheels and chrome between your legs as something exciting, the leather women whose vision of passion and sexuality doesn't exclude fat, disabled me.

Ableism tells us that lesbians with disability are asexual. (When was the last time you dated a dyke who uses a wheelchair?) Fat oppression insists that thin is in and round is repulsive. At times, these voices become very loud, and my femme, she hid quietly amidts the lists.

Now my femme is rising again. The time of doubt, fear, and retreat has passed. I have found my way out of the lies and oppression and have moved into a space of loving and honoring the new femme who has emerged. This lesbian femme with disabilities is wise, wild, wet, and wanting. Watch out.

-"Reclaiming femme... Yet again" Mary Francis Platt, The Persistent Desire (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

#lesbian #lesbianism #lesbian history #disabled lesbian #lgbt history #gay history #butch femme #femme lesbian #feminism #lesbian feminism #the persistent desire #intersectionality #disability history #disability rights

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

********

You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay? 

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants. 

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him. 

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place. 

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out. 

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did. 

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.” 

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away. 

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on. 

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?” 

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.” 

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.” 

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can. 

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.” 

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.” 

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!” 

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!” 

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.” 

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.” 

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm. 

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva. 

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“ 

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes. 

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp. 

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“ 

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases. 

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?” 

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak. 

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!” 

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?” 

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.” 

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass. 

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis. 

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted. 

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time. 

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock. 

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.” 

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob. 

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent. 

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.” 

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!” 

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy. 

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.” 

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?” 

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.” 

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.” 

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy. 

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.” 

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are. 

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?” 

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

#smutty smut #my works #black fanfic writer #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #feral gojo #happy birthday gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

[wosoluver]

Healers got to date protectors - Headcanons

Misa x Physio!reader

How the two of you met

When Misa arrived one day at training, she couldn't help but notice the whispering going around the team.

They hardly ever got everyone together to talk about something, that wasn't football.

The friend groups were overall very divided.

But you know how it is. Gossip aways brings people together.

"What's going on?" - Misa immediately asked Brunn.

"New member in the staff."

"And that's whats causing all of this?"

"It's a new physio. And she is gorgeous!" - Sofie chimed in.

"I can't believe your guys are so worked up about that.

I thought something bad had happened."

"Oihane was the one who saw her when she stopped by to get tapping for her hamstring issue." - Raso added.

"And now everyone is coming up with their own plans, to go into the office to meet her, without seeming so obsessed." - Møller revealed.

"You guys want to fake needing physio sessions?" - She was so confused. Why were they all acting like they hadn't seen a beautiful woman before?

"Not me!" "Nope" "I won't" - the group of four said in unison, but they couldn't keep a straight face.

"You guys are unbelievable! I'm going out to the field."

By the end of the day she had landed badly on one of her jumps, and had a pain in her hand that wouldn't go away. But she refused going in, to check it out.

She didn't want to seem like she was partaking in the other girls' behavior.

So from training, she went straight home.

Next morning she didn't think she could skip checking in, just to make sure everything was alright and maybe get something to relieve that slight pain she felt.

She didn't want to tell anyone were she was going, so she decided on going to your office before training.

And once she saw you, she understood slightly, the commotion yesterday.

You were young, about the same age as her. That was very unusual when it came to the team's medical staff.

Your eyes were shiny and your smile caught her by surprise.

"Uhm, good morning." - she choked out.

"Good morning!

Please don't tell me you feel a slight discomfort on your leg too." - You joked in a light way.

"Oh- No. Its just, I landed badly on my hand yesterday. It tried sleeping it off but it didn't work."

"Come sit, I'll take a look."

You grabbed Misa's hand gently, to check what was going on.

"It doesn't seem to be anything to be worried about. It's barely a mild sprain. The discomfort should go away in two or three days max.

I'll tape you up to make sure you're safe for training. I don't want to risk worsening it."

As you grabbed your kit, you started to work on it.

"They're not really hurt." - you let out a soft laugh at her words.

"I could tell. I think they forgot I'm a doctor." - you joked.

"They're only doing this to have the chance to meet you."

"I suspected something was going on. That's why I didn't tell anyone about it. Imagine how alarmed they would be to find out half of the team had come in for a unscheduled physiotherapy session? In one day?" - You both laughed about it.

"Well, you're all done here. Come back tomorrow so I can redo it. That's the best we can do, to heal it faster." - Giving her a comforting smile.

"Thank you! I am Misa, by the way."

"Y/N. Nice to meet you."- You said, as she left for training.

"Where were you?" Asked Raso, knowing exactly where she was, from the tape on her wrist.

"I hurt my hand during training yesterday." - there was no use trying to lie.

"Of course you did."

"I did! I swear!" - letting out a laugh.

"Wow, Misa smiling in the morning? What have they done to you?" - Asked Sofie coming in.

"Take a wild guess." - Teased Hayley.

"No. I actually needed it."

"We believe you." - at this point Misa was already rolling her eyes.

This will be a series of headcanons! So far 3 parts planned. 🩷

#espwnt #misa rodriguez #misa rodriguez x reader #real madrid femenino #woso x reader

[dre6ming]

Kiss it better

Part of “The delicate beginning rush” (click for the whole series) can be read in it’s own

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warning: hard language, curses, aggression, mentions of blood, assault

Plot: while visiting Austin on set of the bike rides something not so great happens, that has Austin pull out his protective side

Word count: 1.8k

Masterlist

Tag list

A/n: this was a request so if you have some more feel free to send them to me

"Do you know how much I love you?" Austin asks, kissing my cheek, the facial hair he had to grow for the role making me giggle with the way it tickles my soft skin. "I think in might have and idea about it." I say, turning my head slightly and catching his lips in a warm kiss, tasting his breath on my tongue. My heart beats so fast I can almost hear it in my ears, as he adjusts his hand, to hold my lower back better making sure I don't fall off the bike. He's filming for the movie Bike riders and I'm just passing through, visiting for the month, which has been great since we often get to fool around the set in between filming.

 "I think I might go to your trailer and get some sleep, I'm kinda tired." I tell him, brushing my hands through his hair, pulling slightly at the root, making him groan. "Ok, want me to walk you?" Austin helps me get off the bike safely. "You think they'll let you keep it after you're done?" I ask referring to his bike, praying for a 'yes' "Probably not." He shakes his head and I pout, truly disappointed. "That's too bad, maybe I'll buy you one for your birthday!" I say absentmindedly, walking my hand over the handle of the bike. Austin chuckles, pulling me in a tight hug. "Ok sugar mama, if that's what you want to waste your pension on." He jokes shrugging his shoulders, making me laugh with my head thrown back. "Well baby, if you behave." His lips catch mine and I sigh into the kiss, biting his bottom lip, smiling when I hear him groan. 

"Ok I'm going now, you need to get back to work." I say, patting his chest. Austin opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get to as he gets called back to set and I giggle at his frustration, going past him. I wink at him and get to walking to his trailer, already dreaming of the soft bed enveloping me whole. On my way, a dude I've never seen before, waves my way, nodding his head at me, a strange grin on. I can't lie, but I usually don't pay mind to such behavior, but somehow this interaction makes shivers climb up my spine and the hair to on the back of my neck to rise.

 "Hi gorgeous!" He approaches me and I try to act like I don't see him, taking a few steps to my right hoping he'd get the note and leave me alone. "Hey!" He whistles at me trying to get my attention. "You deaf or somethin girl?" He asks lifer coming my way. "I'm just not interested, ok can you leave me be?" I ask hoping he'll give up. "So what maybe I can change your mind, huh?" He says, coming my way aggressively. I feel my bones shake with fear and I try to move away from him, while trying to remember everything I learned in self defense class, but all that seems to be useless now. "I don't know you ok?" I say, picking up my pace, not running just yet, thinking if I should turn back where I came from. 

While I'm in my head sweating my decision, the guy catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me towards him. I wince at the way his grip on my wrist twists my joint and shoots pain up my arm. "Let me go!" I try to rip my arm out of his hold but, he's to strong. "Oh come on baby, just a kiss, maybe I'll grab a boob or two, they look gorgeous" my free hand goes to cover my chest and I look frantically around to see if there's anyone that can help me, but there isn't. Panic is high in me and the smirk the guy has on his face, makes my blood turn to ice in my veins. "Help, someone help me!" I shout as loud as I can, before he slaps me across the face. The hit takes me off balance and in doing so, he brings me flush to him, putting his hand over my mouth and the other around my waist. With my hands free I start to hit him anywhere I can, but he's big so he doesn't even budge. "You cunt! Stop fucking hitting me!" He growls at me, his spit hitting my cheek. 

I can't see anything, tears are flowing down my face and I'm struggling to breathe with his hand on my mouth. I can see all the ways this might go and I'm terrified. Suddenly I'm roughly shaken and he lets go of me, so I fall to the ground, my legs numb. "Shh , hey it's fine!" I hear a muffled voice say and I feel hands on my arms trying to grab at me, I scream and push away, closing my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest and crying. I hear a bunch of commotion around me, but I'm scared to move, so I just sit there, formed into a ball. 

I feel a set of arms wrap around me and I flinch away. "Shh baby, Y/n it's me, it's Austin." I hear softly and I lunch at him, throwing my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "I swear to you I want to kill that motherfucker, I hope my fist fucking stays on his face for the rest of his scum bag life." He sounds so angry, but his touch is so warm and comforting. "I I I'm sssorry" I stammer from crying, nuzzling my face in his chest. "Don't you dare apologize. Come on baby, I'll lift you up." Austin says, hooking one arm under my legs and the other on my back. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, kissing the top of my head. 

I hear the door to his trailer open and soon enough I feel the fluffy bed under me. His hands push the hair out of my face and he uses his thumbs to wipe my tears away. "I knew I should've walked with you." He says more, to himself p, giving me a good look over, anger intensifying on his face as he notices my red wrist and probably swollen cheek. "I should go back there and give that guy more punches to take home." I shake my head and take his hands off my face, rubbing his knuckles, frowning when I see the cuts and bruises on his hands. "Aus what did you do?" I ask my voice barely a whisper. 

"Some guy from sound said he heard some girl scream for help, my mind when directly to you, I hate that I was right. I ran and when I saw him grabbing at you, I ripped him off of you, got him to the ground and punched as hard as I could, I hope I broke something, maybe his nose" he takes his hands back and goes to the sink to wet a small wash cloth, bringing it over and wiping my face. "I'll change and then we can go back to the apartment ok? They gave me two days off." He says, placing another kiss on my forehead, then quickly undressing, putting the clothes in a bag and getting into his own. It only takes him a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity and I'm so happy, when he gets on the bed and pull me on top of him, arms tight around me. "I'm so sorry honey, are you ok?" Austin asks again 

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little shaken up." I say, grimacing when I speak since it hurts from all the screaming. "I think we should go by the medic, your cheek is pretty red and your wrist is bruising" he speaks softly, massaging my back. "I'm fine." I push hoping he'd drop if. "How's your hand, does it hurt?" I ask and push myself off of him, getting up from the bed and going to my bag to pick my balm for cuts and bruises. I take the wet towel and motion him to come sit at the edge of the bed with me. "Give me your hand." But he's stubborn. "I should be taking care of you, I'm fine." He argues, making me roll my eyes. "Aus, your knuckles are bleeding, please!" I plead with him and he finally gives in. While I work on his hands his lips kiss my face over and over again, making my skin feel warm and tingly.

 "I think if there's anyone that can kiss it better it's you." I admit, smiling, while I carefully apply cream to his bruised knuckles. He doesn't even flinch but I know they must be hurting. "Are you really ok? Please Y/n tell me, I promise not to go break his neck." Austin's nostrils flare up as his anger flashes back to him, and I sigh. "I'm not fine, I was so scared, I took all those self defense classes and I couldn't do anything." I feel tears in my eyes again and he places a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Come here, my darling love, I'm sorry you had to go through this, I'm here!" He assures me, pulling me into a breath taking hug. 

I breathe in his scent, feeling my muscles relax, the warmth his body provides being exactly what I needed. "Let's go home and get you a warm bath, hm? And then we'll stuff ourselves full of chocolate and ice cream, while watching Twilight!" I giggle at the plans he has made for the night. "I would love that!" I reply truthfully, leaning my head back and pulling him in for a kiss. Austin's lips are warm and soft and sweet, almost too familiar in taste. "Did you use my lip balm?" I ask licking my lips and looking at him, chuckling when he blushes. "Just a bit, maybe, no.." he defends himself, bringing me back for another kiss, one of his hands holding my chin. "Liar!" I say, before his lips crash onto mine. He giggles into the kiss, and his tongue, licks my bottom lip asking for permission, which I give delighted. Austin's tongue explores my mouth and his hands keep me close to his chest, so close I can feel his heart pounding. "I love you!" I say between shallow breaths. "You're my everything!" He admits looking into my eyes and I melt into the blue of his irises.

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #austin butler fans #austin butler love #austin butler instagram #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin fanfic #austin butler fandom #austin butler x actress reader #austin butler x fem!reader #Austin butlers bike #Austin butler bike

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Christmas! Really really liked Time travel drarry, if you want to continiue it please? <3

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Harry leaves his common room and finds Draco waiting for him. He almost wishes he'd just hung around Malfoy Manner like he'd originally been planning.

Then again, Draco had originally been planning to return to the future with him rather than sticking around the past.

"What do you want?" he snaps. "Have you come to your senses?"

"Merlin, you're in a mood," he says. Seeing adult Draco's expressions on his twelve year old face is disconcerting. "Can you give me a list of horcruxes and where you found them? To be honest, I was only sort of paying attention when that part was going down. I had my own problems, you understand."

Harry cannot believe he's just talking about this in the middle of the hallway. Anyone could overhear! With their luck, a portrait has already overheard and is on their way to tell Dumbledore that for some reason Draco Malfoy is talking about horcruxes!

"Have you lost your mind?" he hisses, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the nearest empty room. Luckily it's a castle and there are lots of those. He locks the door behind him and looks around, grateful that all the frames look empty.

Draco pointedly rubs his wrists, which Harry refuses to feel bad about. "Calm down, it's a wonder that your blood pressure didn't kill you before Voldemort got the chance. Killing him is a pain, it's probably easier to make sure he never comes back properly to begin with. Which would be easier with a list."

"Why should I help you?" he demands.

He rolls his eyes. "Why shouldn't you help me? I'm trying to get rid of Voldemort. What are you doing? Flunking transfiguration again?"

"I'm not flunking and I didn't the first time," he says resentfully. His attempts to not use magic like an adult means his performance is a little more - sporadic, than it was the first time around. Hermione is horrified.

Draco doesn't seem to be having that problem, but then again most of his casting had been nearly perfect at that age anyway. He was right behind Hermione for a reason.

This would all be so much easier if he was working with him rather against him.

He's comforted that at least Draco probably feels the same way.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

[tervaneula]

u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–” 

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious. 

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!” 

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.” 

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good. 

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless. 

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his. 

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them. 

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck. 

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit. 

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up. 

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile. 

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice. 

“Leo? Are you okay?” 

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.” 

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards. 

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.” 

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case. 

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows. 

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.” 

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?” 

Yuichi stares. 

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–” 

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood. 

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?” 

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.” 

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever. 

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.” 

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence. 

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.” 

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.” 

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner. 

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose. 

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.” 

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles. 

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.” 

#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable #sdfghhsfghjafsfd #anyway these peepaws gay #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #leoichi #peepaw leo #peepaw yuichi #other characters mentioned + a cameo from #rise leo #future leonardo #future leo #samurai rabbit #usagi chronicles #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x reader who had a nightmare

Characters: Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mention of blood, maybe a little murder, Brahms calls you 'Mommy', Bo is not a dickhead here

Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspells

Michael Myers

• Michael spent most of the night on the street looking for random victims. It was Halloween only recently, so Haddenfield's Boogeyman was still wandering the lonely streets of the city, scaring all the residents.

• When he returned, he was already ready to be asleep. Although you often stayed late to meet Michael and give him another awkward hug and offer him a late dinner, this was not the case today. But he wasn't too surprised. After all, you are an ordinary person with a normal life and work, you need to get some sleep before the morning shift. Michael does not need sleep so much, his stamina is greater than that of ordinary people. Although he won't mind getting into your bed right now.

• Michael took off his shoes and overalls in the hallway. He knows how much you dislike traces of blood all over the house. Perhaps in the morning you will throw his things in the washing machine.

• After going into your bedroom, Michael was a little surprised. You were lying on the bed, wrapping your limbs around the blanket, as if it were a person, and crying softly. You were whispering something in your sleep, clutching a piece of cloth more tightly in your hands.

• Not that Michael cared about other people's feelings, but when it came to you... It was something else. He usually liked to see expressions of pain and sorrow in his victims, when tears prevent them from breathing and they choke in their own blood. But it was different with you. Your tears made Michael's heart ache. It made me feel disgusting. And yet Michael just sat on the edge of the bed so he could see your face and gently touched your cheek. Wet burning skin. The man passed over your forehead, sliding into your hair and starting to gently stroke your wet tangled curls. Don't cry, he wanted to say.

• Finally you wake up, wince and reluctantly open your eyes. You jump slightly when you notice Michael in front of you. "Oh, I'm sorry," you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbows and wiping your face with the end of the blanket.

• Michael doesn't answer, but just looks at you with his head tilted to the side. You read it as a dumb question. "Just a nightmare... Huh, I'm not at my best right now, am I?"

• Do you literally live in the same house with a maniac, with a Haddenfield Uniform, with a Boogeyman, but are you afraid of some fake nightmare? Michael searches for the answer in his own head for a few moments. Sometimes he also has nightmares, but he understands that this is just a game of his imagination, not a real picture. But you look so scared and broken...

• Michael grabs your wrist, squeezing it gently, and pulls you onto his lap. You obediently obey, having no strength to resist. The man picks you up under your knees and back and starts slowly rocking you from side to side like a child. Your head is on his chest and you can hear his deep breathing. Still arriving at the border of sleep and wakefulness, you unconsciously cling to his big body, clutching the fabric of his black T-shirt in your hand. You can hear a muffled mumbling coming from his chest. Lullaby.

• My soul is so calm at once. Your eyes are getting heavy, blinking is getting harder. Michael is so wonderfully soft and gentle. He gently strokes your back. It seems that falling asleep again is not so scary anymore. Now you're sure there won't be any more nightmares. Not now, with Michael Myers guarding your sleep.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo woke up from your prolonged sobs. He did not immediately understand what was happening, only hissed painfully and covered his face with a pillow, trying to get rid of unnecessary sounds and fall asleep again.

• When he realized that this crying was coming from your side of the bed, he quickly assumed a sitting position, swaying slightly due to the abrupt change of position. You were lying facing him, completely wrapped in a blanket, like in a cocoon, as if you were incredibly cold.

• Bo gently touched your forehead, checking for the presence of temperature, but found it quite cool, which could not be said about your cheeks. Tears literally burned my skin.

• "Hey, baby," Bo whispered, gently shaking you by the shoulders. A real anxiety crept inside him, which was not there even when he was killing people in this abandoned city.

• When you opened your eyes, widened with fear, the man's heart missed a beat. Apparently, you haven't fully woken up yet, and your eyes were looking at Bo with the most real animal fear. That's how the victim looks at him.

• Bo sighed heavily, touching your face and gently brushing away your tears with his thumb. "Come here.." he whispered and gently pulled you into his arms, so that you buried your face in his broad chest.

• A man slowly stroking your tense back, muttering something like a lullaby. As you calm down, it becomes easier for him. Bo's mouth twists into a slight smile. He looks down at you and briefly kisses you on the forehead.

• "It's okay, Princess. Everything is fine now. You have nothing to be afraid of with me.."

• In the morning Bo wanted to talk to you about your nightmare, but you have already forgotten it. But there was a satisfied smile on your face after a dose of night hugs with your boyfriend.

Brahms Heelshire

• He was usually the one complaining about the nightmares. Brahms is a naughty boy. But when he wakes up from your anxiety, he literally won't know what to do.

• Brahms looks up at you (he fell asleep with his face buried in your chest) and burns you with his gaze through his porcelain mask. Your face is a little pale, and your cheeks are red and swollen.

• "Mommy?" A quiet child's voice will call him.

• When you don't answer, but continue to frown and whimper from the nightmare, Brahms will really start to worry.

• The man gently puts his hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly. "Mommy, please wake up..." When you finally open your leaden eyes, Brahms' face lights up with a smile.

• You are breathing heavily, and your eyes are running around the objects in the room in fear, while your heart is beating furiously in your chest. Brahms doesn't know what to do. You usually calm him down, not the other way around. But he remembers what you do after his nightmares.

• Brahms crawls higher and awkwardly hugs you, putting his chin on the top of your head. He hugs you to him, as if his life depends on it. At that moment, something in him clicks, and his mind becomes.. an adult?

• The man gently shushes, burying his fingers in your hair and gently massaging the scalp. His movements are rough and a little awkward, but he tries. The child's voice is replaced by a low and hoarse voice, rough from long disuse. "It's okay."

• Brahms hugs you to him, so that your mind is filled with his scent. The man takes a sitting position, hoping that it will be more effective, and pulls you to his lap.

• He starts gently rocking you from side to side, stroking your back and whispering soothing things. Brahms tenderly whispers your name, giving you a sense of calm and security.

#slashers x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader

[breathingmelancholy]

Summary: You treat Astarion's wounds after a battle and he decides to test if his hand is still performing the way it should. 

Astarion x Female reader; Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Light dom/sub. PIV sex, Male masturbation.

Word count: 4477 words. (Yeah, I think I got carried away.)

Author's note: Please, be kind. This is my first time doing this in a long time. And english is not my native language.

You sigh. "Okay, look. You're being melodramatic," you say. "I promise I've patched you up."

"Oh really?" Astarion drawls in response. "Prove it."

This game of flirting-without-flirting-but-it-kinda-is-flirting that you and Astarion have going on can be exhausting. But it's like a dance you know every step of by now, and you know exactly how to keep him going.

"Hmm. Try to use your hand. Let's see if it still works." You teased. "Promise it's fine. You won't have any problems... Performing." She had an almost devious smile upon her lips.

"I hate you." Astarion's words don't carry any venom- he's too amused for that.

"You know you love it, though," He return with a little grin. Astarion's grin remains, but it's more sheepish now.

Oh yeah. You could keep this going for as long as you need to.

"Do I?" You teased. "And what is that, exactly?" Your eyes met his, a smirk on your lips. You rested your hands on your own lap, after finishing patching him up.

Astarion leans forward. "Hmm. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?" he asks, as he leans in closer.

It's only half flirting- you both know that- but it's enough to keep the sparks flying.

"I have no idea what you are speaking about." But your eyes said otherwise. "Use your words, love." There it was, the half smile. She breathed in slowly.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He's still leaning in towards you- it's no wonder you can feel the heat when he's so close.

"Unless you're suddenly hard of hearing," he says, before leaning in even closer, so that you could practically count his eyelashes.

"Would you like me to really spell it out for you then?" he purrs.

"Yes." You dared him, leaning in as well. "How about that?" You raised one hand, touching a lock of his hair, tucking it in behind his ear.

"Oh, you like it rough?" Astarion's voice remains low, almost a whisper as his breath brushes across the shell of your ear. He reaches a hand up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, and traces his thumb just below the outside of it.

"Is this what you wanted me to spell out, hm?" It's not a question- it's a statement, and he's a predator about to go in for the kill.

"Yes. You look so handsome begging for it." You teased, well aware that would snap him. You know how much he likes that. He teased you and you did as well, but nothing has happened until now. Maybe it was time to change that.

His fingers clamp down on your wrist, tightening around it enough to make his grip almost painful.

"Begging?" He hisses between clenched teeth, leaning even closer to you. You're only an inch away from him now.

"It is you who will be begging. For mercy." He whispers in your ear before leaning back just enough to see your face again. He waits, watching you, waiting for you to admit it.

"Try me." You teased, but didn't give in. Your smile was flirtatious, malicious. But there wasn't a hint of doubt as you leaned in, so close so he could feel your breath.

His grip tightens upon your wrist as you lean in towards him. Just as the breath catches in your throat from your faces being so close, he tugs slightly on the wrist he has a grip on, drawing you just closer enough to his face that your noses are almost touching.

He doesn't wait. The hand that was holding onto your wrist shifts, reaching up to cradle the side of your head, as his other hand moves from your other wrist to fall upon your shoulder.

His breath was hot upon your cheek.

Your lips were almost touching him, yet they haven't met. You wanted him to give in. Hands free, you rested one hand on his shoulder, the other one rested on his leg. Your gaze was firm, teasing, daring him.

"I could kiss you right now," he promises softly. His hands tighten around you, and with him being so close, you can feel everything. Even the movement of his ribs with each breath he draws in.

His breath catches for a moment as your hand rests upon his leg. How long had he been wanting this? How long had you been wanting this?

"Shall I?" He leans in slightly, just enough for you to feel his breath on your lip, teasingly close, but not quite touching.

"Do it." You dared, leaning in ever closer, close enough to brush your lips against his slightly.

This is what he was waiting for.

Astarion lets out a low noise at the touch of your lips upon his. A moan, a shiver. The hand upon your head pulls you in by the back of your scalp, angling your face just so that he can meet your lips head-on.

It isn't soft, this kiss. It's hot, and it's hungry, and it's almost animalistic in its ferocity.

But you weren't shy. If anything, you were daring. As your body leaned in to correspond his kiss, you leaned in enough so you could place yourself at his lap. "Is this what you want?" You whispered between his kiss. Your hands were now in his head, caressing the white locks of hair.

His arms wrap around you. "More than anything," he promises. His hands trail up and down your back, pulling you into him. His lips trail down your mouth and back up again, seeking out your neck.

He pulls your body on top of him, letting you rest on his lap as he continues to kiss her.

"You feel so good." he mumbles. He seems completely lost in this moment, so focused on you that it's as though you're the only thing that matters to him, the only thing that exists.

Brushing your hair away from one side of her neck, you gave him full access to it. With a soft moan, you sighed, feeling his hard body against yours. "You havent seen anything yet."

His hands trail from your back up to your shoulders, then from there down to your hips, holding you snugly against him. His teeth graze your neck, causing you to shiver.

His body shuddered in anticipation. Yes, you liked the pace at which things were going. Closing your eyes, you were at his mercy and his desires. It was clear that you would accept everything he proposed at that moment.

The kisses continue, but now they are even more wild than before. Now, instead of a slow, teasing pace, his kisses are rough. He seems to have given into his own lust and desire for you, like he can't get enough.

He kisses his way from your neck to your mouth again. The moment your lips touch, he is kissing you just as rough as before, his tongue slipping into your mouth and dueling against yours. You teased him and it was clear that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Your body on top of his, your hands ran from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt, reaching inside, touching his pale bare skin.Your fingers trail across his skin, and he whimpers.

Astarion seems lost in this moment, like he has no thoughts or concerns beyond getting as close to you as possible. His kisses become desperate, hungry, as he pulls you down on top of him. His lips press against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes.

You were able to feel every inch of his body beneath yours. Gods, he was driving you crazy with his touch. His touch contrasted with yours, your body was heating up, but you shivered in response. Lips against his, you slowly moved your hips onto his lap, teasing him.

The moment you move you feel his breath hitch.

He whimpers.

He needs this, and he desperately wants you to give it to him. He moves his hands from your shoulder to your waist, and pulls you onto his lap, holding you on top of him as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, kissing you roughly with a hunger that seems completely untamed at this point.

You gave in and now your touch was as hungry as his. You wanted him and it was clear. You were his to do with as he pleased. Her hands rose from his stomach to his chest, bringing up his shirt. "I want to feel you." You moaned softly.

His breath hitches. Your words are like music to his ears.

And as your hands reach underneath his shirt, and begin to explore the muscles beneath, you can feel them tense. Your fingertips trail across his body, and he shivers again.

"Touch me," he begs, "Please touch me."

You removed his shirt, revealing his naked body. You touched his skin gently, the tips of your nails gently tracing his chest, teasing him. He was beautiful, especially now. "I told you I'd make you beg." You teased, a mischievous smile on your lips. Moving your body, your hand on his chest applied gentle downward pressure, motioning for his back to meet the floor. With each leg around his hips, you brought your lips to his again.

If your kisses are rough, this has now become all the more passionate. His tongue is battling against yours, and you feel his lips upon yours so strongly that it's almost as if your mouths are fused together.

The way your hand presses upon his chest causes him to let out a tiny moan of delight, his entire body tensing as your fingers trail over him.

"Is this what you want?" he whispers urgently.

"More than anything." You admitted, a smile on your lips. Your lips trailed kisses down your body, now onto his neck. Your lips were warm against his cold skin, as were your fingers that subtly traced the contours of his arms.

His neck is sensitive, the way your fingers trail down it causing him to flinch and whimper. He's almost like your plaything at this point, and he seems to absolutely love being it.

His body arches slightly with your touch, and he shivers with each movement you make. With your lips now on his neck, he whispers breathlessly.

"I need you..."

Your kisses got lower and lower on his body. Your lips were on his chest and then his stomach. Your gaze never left his. "What do you need from me, love? I want to hear you say it." You said softly, a smile on your lips.

His breath catches in his throat, his body arching as all sensation seems to be focused on his stomach, where you're kissing him.

You can see the muscles in his abs tense.

"I need you." he says, his voice a hoarse murmur. "I just- please- do anything you want with me."

You moved your hands lower, finding the buttons on his pants. "Is this what you want?" You mumbled, gently biting your lip. You never grew tired of teasing him. Observing his reactions leave you ecstatic, amazed. It was clear the effect you had on him.

His breath catches at your whisper. The buttons being undone causes him to hiss in pleasure. His body feels like it's trembling.

"Please..." he begs.

Oh, how he loves this. This teasing, this playing, the way your words and actions seem like they go hand in hand with each response from him.

Moving your body up enough so that your lips could meet his, you slid your hand inside his pants, touching him hard cock. Your gaze fixed on his, you moaned softly when you felt wrapped your fingers around him.

His entire body seemed to clench with the sensation of your touch. This was definitely something he was enjoying, your teasing, the way you seem to be able to drive him wild with one word or one touch.

His lips press against yours as he whimpers, the way his body tenses up at your touch just sending him into ecstasy.

With your fingers wrapped around erection, your started slow up and down movements. You were attentive to his body's reactions, delighting in each time his body trembled in response to your touch. You had a mischievous smile on your lips and it didn't take long for you to kiss him again, your tongue asking for permission to enter his mouth again.

He lets your tongue into his mouth gladly- he's more than willing to give you everything you want, it seems. He can't get enough of you, not your kisses, not your touch, not anything you decide to do next.

His breaths come quickly and rough now. You can feel his body trembling against yours. You can feel the sweat and heat on his body as he starts to really get into the moment.

You savor every response his body shows. Your tongue entered his mouth and you tasted him on you. It was ecstatic. Keeping up your movements, you quickened the pace of your hands gradually. "Do you like it rough?" You teased him, asking him the same question he had just asked minutes ago. But now the roles were reversed.

Astarion whimpers in response, his body tensing again with it.

"You know very well that I do," he whines to you through gritted teeth. Your touch is driving him wild, he can't believe he's let you have this much control over him. He starts to moan softly, his fingers digging into your skin.

You cracked a smile in response. Following his request, your pace is now a little faster, more rougher. You were skilled with your hands. And you wanted more of him every moment. Your lips brushed against his, hearing him moan was like a sweet melody you couldn't get enough of. Resting your forehead on his, your gaze roamed his body.

Every sound he makes, every moan, sends your heart racing. And with your pace being faster this time, this rough time, it's getting worse. The sound of his breath catching in his throat is pure ecstasy, and you can't get enough of it- nor can he get enough of you.

You start to moan back. You can't help it, but the sound of your own moans only makes things hotter.

Your free hand now went down to your own blouse, unbuttoning its buttons. Your gaze in his, you made this process slow, teasing and tempting him. The smile never left your lips and you moaned softly in response to him. You kept a rougher pace, just enough to make him crave more.

He lets out a moan as you continue to unbutton your own clothes, your hand now wandering lower.

Your tease is driving him absolutely wild. Your hands seem to be getting him closer, and closer to the edge.

His own moans grow louder, and his breathing becomes quicker. He pulls you closer, his fingers digging in tighter and tighter.

You undid the buttons on your own blouse, leaving your breasts exposed for him. Your pace was now gradually slowing down, painfully slow. You wanted to leave him wanting for more. A mischievous smile on your lips, you were amused by his desire. You wanted to push him over the edge.

Every moment he seems more and more desperate for some kind of release, and he seems to be getting closer to that edge.

The way you're handling him, it's like you want to see him break. You want to see how far you can push him. You can feel your own arousal growing with every moan he lets out in response to your teasing touch.

It felt like your body was trembling, thirsty for his touch. With her free hand, she brought one of his hands to one of her breasts and nodded softly, giving him permission to touch her in return. His every touch released sparks of electricity that coursed through her body. "I want you. In me." You pleaded in a sigh.

Astarion is almost speechless as you bring his hand to your chest. Your soft nods, the way your body trembles, they have him so desperate that he can't even get the words out properly.

Your pleading gets a guttural moan out of his lungs. His fingertips trail across you softly, his thumb dancing along that spot that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh... please, please, I need you" he moaned back, his desperation rising with every word.

He wouldn't have to ask twice. You placed yourself on his lap again and your lips sought his. Her hands removed the rest of her blouse and moved to his cheeks, cupping his face. You still had your pants on, but not for long.

You lay on top of him in a way that puts you above him, which seems to increase your power and dominance. Your hands explore every inch of him as you kiss his mouth, your lips on his as you remove your pants.

His hands trail from your chest down to your waist and down again, exploring every inch of your body. You can hear him moaning from every touch, and even his breathing has become more and more frantic over the fact that you've taken so much control of the situation.

You removed the rest of your clothes and his in a tortuous pace. You saw him flinch at your touch, your body on top of his. Pressing your hips against him, you moved slowly, testing how long it would take for him to give in. Moaning against his lips, you smiled softly. The roles had quickly reversed and now he was the one asking for the mercy of her touch.

His moans are a low rumble in his chest. The way you're teasing him- slowly working him up to that very edge- is the perfect mixture of torture and pleasure.

He's the one begging for more now, and it's an incredible power dynamic shift. He's at your mercy now, and he's more than willing to fall right into it- and fall into you.

“Who knew…” You sighed, surprised. You were able to feel him hard beneath your and he was able to feel how aroused he made you. With your lips on his, your hands explored his body again, shuddering. That was hot. It made her want to reverse roles again, giving up control to him.

He's still letting you explore, too curious and too far gone to do much else to keep you from your touch. All he can manage is soft whispers in your ear, begging and pleading for you to keep going.

"Let's see how you do being the top now." You sighed, satisfied. This time, you were at his mercy. "Let's see if you can keep your word." You challenged him. The whole power dynamic change made you more and more excited. You were shuddering at his touch, moving subtly on his lap.

"I can do this... I will do this." he hisses back to you, his hands already traveling up your body again.

Your challenge was one that would surely be answered. His breaths are already starting to quicken, and he's already pushing against you, trying to push you down onto the bed.

"Just... lay down, okay? You're driving me crazy like this," he explains, a deep shiver flowing down his spine.

You smiled, agreeing with his request. Laying down next to him, your eyes followed every movement he made. You had given him permission and space to take control this time. You were his to toy now.

The control he takes of the situation is a thing of beauty. He's careful not to overstep any boundary, but he clearly knows just what to do to keep you on your toes, and on the edge.

Those same hands that were roaming over your body before, are now holding you down gently, but firmly, as he begins to explore your body again. Your moans rise higher, and he gives you a cheeky smirk as he sees the response that he's getting out of you.

You moaned in response to his touch, so light it made him question how loud you could be if he took it rougher. Even though you let him dominate you, you didn't stop teasing him. Your nails ran down his naked body, making him flinch. You explored every inch of him, moaning at his ear to just tease him further.

His moans rise higher as you tease him, and the way your nails trail down his body sends shivers down his spine. Your touch does not go unappreciated, and he starts to moan back- every part of him feels sensitive when you touch him.

Your whispers are like a lullaby to him. His entire body is so tense, so ready to break- but he seems to be enjoying the way you're driving him wild.

"I want you to dominate me." She whispered between moans. Parting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist. Her breath was fresh and sweet, touching his skin. You were warm to the touch and you made sure to teach him where you liked to be touched by him.

He lets out a shiver at the touch of your breath, your words giving him the push he needs to start being a bit rougher.

His hands go from holding yours to grabbing your thighs and holding your legs spread wide, keeping you in place. Your body is so warm, as you wrap your legs around his waist tightly.

His hips are now moving against you, pushing himself deep into you. His tongue is tracing your mouth passionately.

As his hips crashed into yours, you allowed a louder moan to leave your lips. Your legs were clenching around him, but he kept you in place. — F-fu.. — You couldn't even finish your sentence, intoxicated by his touch. Your lips pressing against his, you allowed him access to fall deeper into you. You brought your right hand to your clit, gently stimulating it.

He lets out a deep moan as your words are cut off. His lips meet yours again with renewed passion, as he gives you a gentle bite- nothing too hard, just enough to keep you on your toes.

His hips are moving faster and faster, as he starts to become more and more desperate for release.

You smiled, clearly amused. You felt the air leaving your lungs as you reached your edge, holding yourself to him. Bringing his body to yours, you trembled, incapable of forming words, just moan his name. "Astarion..."

The sound of your voice brings his breath to stop momentarily- he loves hearing you moaning his name. Seeing his control over your body makes every move he makes that much more powerful.

Knowing this, he now begins to stimulate you, removing your hand so he can touch you himself. His thumb moved skillfully over your clit, driving you crazy.

His hips slow only for a moment as you moan out his name, before he speeds up again- you're on the edge, ready to fall off, and he's the one with his finger on the trigger.

You whined, begging for your sweet release. Your gaze met his and your kept you eyes on him as he rocked his body against yours. "Please... I want to..." You begged.

He slowed his pace, to a somewhat rhytmn. Leaning in, he whispered in your ear.

"What you want?" He teased, his hot breath touching your skin. "Use your, darling. Beg."

"Oh, for gods sake - f-fuck me. I want cum on your cock. Please, please." As you beg and moan, he speeds up again, his lips biting your neck as he does so. Your eyes looked at him with the same hungry look as his, and the moment he senses it, he's there- pressing himself deep within you - you can feel him twitch inside you, and you feel a wave of heat rush up his body.

You moaned loader as your whole body trembled, reaching that edge. You clenched, feeling him take every sense out of you. "Gods." You whispered, out of breath. Closing your eyes, you rested your forehead on his. You were numb after all this and the rest of the camp probably heard you in his tent. But you didnt care anymore, all you wanted was to be his.

You are his. That much has been made clear. He pulls you closer to him at your words, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a sigh of contentment. His lips are pressed to yours, as he's already beginning to slow down to catch his breath.

His hands are still holding you firmly in place, refusing to let you go, his breath panting against your neck.

You kept kissing him, several pecks on his lips. But this time, you were both tired, out of breath. You sighed in relief. Even after crashing, his touch still had a effect on your body. His breath touched your skin, warm and inviting. You catched you breath slowly as your hands traced up against the skin of his arms, resting on his neck.

Your fingers caress across his skin slowly, your breaths becoming lighter as the moments go on.

The effects of the crash are still lingering, your body still shivers as he continues to rest against you. Your chest is against his. Everything feels too good, too right for this moment to be over yet- the heat of his body against yours, the softness of his skin- it's the perfect blend of the two of you, and it's the perfect way to keep each other's warmth.

Resting your forehead in his, you smiled, your eyes closed. "That was..." You sighed. Amazing, you tought. You didnt have enough to express it."You're... Gods."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies are pressed against each other, your breathing slowing down enough that it's not as heavy as before.

As you sigh and lay your forehead against his, he lets out a little grin.

"You're just as amazing," he replies, his words already getting softer at this point. "And I'm not sure I could ever find the words to do you justice. God, you're..."

You smiled and shut him with a slow kiss. Between the kiss, you whispered. "Let's definitely do this again. I've never felt this way before. " You were talking about the way he made your body feel, but he could sense it was more than just that. You smiled, softly. It seems like both of you lacked words to describe each other. So you didnt. You just hold him tight with tenderness.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #baldurs gate astarion

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Authority ||

Shane Walsh x female reader

Tags/warnings: dirty, sweaty, horny, Shane sex cos that's what I want.

Shane can't help chuckling at your stormy expression and demeanour as you pound an angered path towards the garage store where he's working.

“What's grinding your gears this time darlin’?” He asks, but you only shoot him a fierce scowl in answer.

“Aw nah, you been fightin’ with Rick again?” he guesses. You always had something to say about him almost every other day.

You clench your teeth before answering. “He won't let me lead a group to go check out that boarded up farm we passed a week or so ago. I know there must be some good stuff in there, maybe even fuel and tools!” You kick at the door frame in annoyance. “He says he doesn't think it's worth it, that it's too dangerous and that the others wouldn't listen to me or respect my authority on a trip out there anyway. Fuck him!”

Shane watches you winding yourself up in a rage, your fists bunching till your knuckles are showing through your skin.

“He thinks I'm green but I've got skills! I can help! Why does he have to be such a knowitall asshole lording it over all the rest of us? It ain't fair.”

He catches your wrist before you start punching the wall. “Hey, hey now. You gonna calm down before you break somethin’, like your goddamn fingers?”

You scrunch up your face in annoyance. “Depends. You gonna take his side and tell me I'm just a little girl who should shut up cos she doesn't know anything?”

He looks you straight in the eyes. “Nah, I know you're capable. You just gotta give Rick some time to trust you with it, that's all. Hell, I know he's a grouchy sonofabitch but the system's worked alright so far, huh?”

You growl in defeat.

He's got a point you guess, but it still rubs you up the wrong way how Rick seems to see you as nothing more than a nagging pain in his ass. “Would you follow orders from me, Shane?” you challenge.

He gives you that signature self-assured cocky smile of his. “You bet. I trust your judgement, sweetheart.”

You scoff, actually semi surprised by his seemingly honest response.

“Yeah, sure you would. Whatever.”

You watch him in silence as he moves crates of supplies, some full up with cans and other heavy items, stacking them up against the wall. His vest is damp with sweat, beads of moisture roll down his neck to his broad, glistening chest and you can't help licking your lips.

“Doesn't help that it's so fucking hot today,” you muse, tugging your own shirt away from your sticky skin. Then you settle on an idea.

“I'm going down to the lake. Come with me.”

Shane pauses, glances up. “I gotta finish up this shit…”

You plant your hands on your hips. “Come with me. That's an order, Shane.” You smirk and he catches on, putting the crate down and straightening up.

“S’that so?” He responds with an interested look and you nod.

“Y’said you'd follow my lead, so follow.” you quip, walking out into the blazing heat of the yard towards the gate.

“Might be walkers down there.” He says, grabbing his pistol and knife from the shelf and tucking them into the back of his pants.

You wave your hand carelessly back in his direction as you keep walking. You've got your own weapon on you. “I'm capable, remember?”

Shane rolls his eyes as he catches you up. He's not sure what he's letting himself in for but it's not a good idea to let you go off alone, especially if he expects you've got something to prove.

The lake was a godsend. A welcome actual oasis in this rabid and lethal world that you'd all found yourselves trying to survive. A perk of living in the camp and bearing Rick's questionable leadership. It was small, a now undammed creek running in to fill an old quarry, but it was fairly safe and utterly perfect for dip on a day like this.

The side you came in on had a grassy bank and a large tree growing near, giving some much needed shade before the ground turned to gravel and slate near the water. You scoped out the rim and the shimmering, inviting water for any signs of walkers and once satisfied it was clear, you turned to Shane, planting your palm firmly on his damp chest.

“You, stay.” You command, gesturing at him to sit down.

“What the hell? How come I don't get to cool off?” He complains as he reluctantly sits on the baking hot grass. You cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and tug it up over your head.

“You said you'd follow my orders, didn't you? Don't you trust me?” You grin, slinging your top over a low branch of the tree and then starting to unbutton your pants.

Shane watches unashamedly as you undress in front of him. You had brought him here after all, wanted him here for whatever reason, and he sure as hell wasn't about to complain about the current view he's got. His gaze roams over the curves of your near-naked body as you strip to your well-worn underwear. He's never seen this much of you before, and he likes it.

You make your way to the water's edge, shrieking and then humming with relief as the sudden cold hits your heated skin.

“So what the hell am I s’posed to do? It's as hot as all hell, even in the shade!” Shane calls out.

“Watch for walkers, idiot!” You yell back with a laugh, and wade in deeper into the lake until you can swim. It was such a treat to have this space relatively close to the camp, but it wasn't the only thing you had in mind…

Shane watches you enjoying yourself as he sweats under the tree. You had your own watchful eye on him, near salivating as he eventually pulled his vest off to reveal the rest of that deliciously toned torso.

When you're done you walk slowly out of the lake, shaking off your hair and stalking towards where Shane was lying on the bank. He pushes himself up on his hands, surprised as you straddle his hips, grunting as cool droplets of water fall from your body onto his.

“What are ya doin’?” He asks as you push him back down to lie flat on his back.

“Cooling you off.” You reply matter of factly as you rock your hips down on his crotch, feeling his cock beginning to harden rapidly through your wet panties.

“Yeah?” His voice is husky, his hands finally landing at your waist as you lean in close, grinding yourself against his cock again, feeling him twitch.

“When I first came here, Rick told me to stay away from you, y'know? Said you were dangerous…”

“Fuck…” Shane curses, his fingers gripping at your damp skin and eyes flicking between the sight of your hardened nipples poking through your bra and your wiggling hips on his. “You doin’ this to get back at him or somethin’?” He asks with a slight strain in his voice.

“No...”

Your own fingers start to explore and trail over his chest, scratching briefly at his nipples and on down those washboard abs to hook under the waistband of his pants. You can't help yourself, leaning down, your tongue sliding out between your lips to lick up the layer of sweat from between his pecs. You close your eyes as the satisfying taste of his salty musk hits your taste buds and both you and Shane moan. You lick and kiss your way up to the side of his neck and nip at his earlobe, purring out your desire.

“I just wanted you to fuck me.”

His eyes gleam a dark amber in the sun as he looks up at you. “Yeah? Is that an order too?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You teased the question but he wastes no time, scrabbling quickly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, pulling his thick cock out of his underwear as you shimmy out of your panties. You'd need to be fast, this was all the foreplay you needed. You couldn't risk any of the others from the camp wandering down here and finding you both.

He was just as big as you had imagined. You weren't at all surprised with the way he would nearly always stride dick first through the camp. When you could, you'd sometimes pass any quiet moments watching him work, whether it was swinging an axe to cut firewood, or patrolling up on the wall. Even if he could be smarmy and bullish he was prime eye candy for sure, and you wanted a taste.

“God… damn.” Shane hisses as you sink down on him, your bodies now as one, feeling your tight, wet heat gripping around his throbbing length. Air leaves your lungs in a gasp as you start to move up and down, and Shane moves his hips upwards in quick, powerful thrusts to meet yours. “Shit… god-fucking-damn!”

“Fuck, Walsh!” You moan as he's stimulating the deepest parts of you, his hands firm on your hips, fingers pressing in harder..

“S'at good?” He grits out, captivated by the feel and look of you moving above him with abandon.

“So good-” you whine. He shifts forward, ducking his head to mouth at the softness of your breasts spilling over your bralet.

“Oh you like that, huh?” he snarls, “yeah, jus’ like that?” He leans back again so he can pound into you even harder, gritting his teeth, beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck to pool at his collarbones with the effort. He snatches the cups of your bra down, letting your tits bounce around, squeezing them hard before he drops one hand down to where your bodies meet, his thumb desperately rubbing sloppy circles over your slick, swollen pearl.

The dry grass presses into your knees as you fuck, your pussy starting to flutter as the tightness at the core of you builds so quickly. You haven't had any form of intimacy for so long that everything you're feeling now is intense, sharp, and needed.

“Don't you dare stop!” You threaten, riding his cock even faster as you near your edge.

Shane is panting, hips bucking wildly.

“Shit-shit-shit baby I'm gonna cum, aw fuck I'm gonna-”

You lift up off of him and rapidly switch to frantically rubbing your pussy and clit along the length of his cock, seconds later his mouth is forming a silent ‘o’ and his pulsing dick is shooting stripes of creamy white over his stomach and chest between you as you topple over with him. Shane hooks his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down and smashing your hot mouths together as you both shudder through your orgasms with a deep shared moan.

You push off of him, laying on your back to his side, both of you panting ragged breaths with the heat and exertion.

“Fuck… oh christ.”

Your satisfied hum turns to laughter when you hear Shane's curses yet again.

“So, do you like a woman that knows what she wants an’ orders you around, Walsh?”

He grumbles, gingerly sitting up and wincing at the sweaty, messy state he's in. “Mm, I guess only when it's me that she wants.”

He gets up and strips off his boots and pants, and you watch as he takes his gorgeous ass into the lake to wash, dunking his entire body and scrubbing his hands over his face and closely shaved head. You soon follow and when you're done you put your now-dry clothes back on in a silence only disturbed by birdsong and the sound of the bubbling creek.

“We should get back.” You say redundantly, breaking the sudden tension that had formed.

“Yeah.” Shane agrees, not meeting your eyes.

You awkwardly part ways back at the gate, and when you're on shift up on the wall later that night you can't help wondering if you miscalculated, made a mistake.

“Hey.”

You almost jump out of your skin as Shane sneaks up behind you.

You calm your racing heart as you move the barrel of the gun away from him. “Jesus christ, don't do that, I could have killed you!”

He just smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Well now I wasn't lookin' for that.” He drawls, and you soften.

“So what were you looking for?”

"You had any more run-ins with Rick today?"

"Uh... no? Why?" You reply, slightly confused.

He shrugs, eyes flitting between the gun you're holding and you. “Just been wonderin’, if maybe you wanna order me around some more?”

#shane walsh x female reader #shane walsh smut #shane walsh fic

[munsster]

hi! could u please do smut on billy hargrove where the reader and him are very close friends and she wants him to take her virginity please 🥰���

nightingale

A/N: sometimes all u need is a very attractive close friend to take your virginity (gif cred: @julie-thefatones) IT ENDS SO CHEESY. DONT BOTHER ME

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: Billy can’t resist when you beg him to take your virginity. 2.5k words.

Warnings: smut, mdni, 18+, billy hargrove, mild slut shaming, virginity/loss of virginity, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names (doll, babydoll), cursing, sex talk!teasing, fingers in mouths, gagging, discussion of his penis

In all honesty, Billy didn't think you were a virgin. He wouldn't have bet a cent on it. Not that he thought you were a slut or especially promiscuous or anything like that. He just figured you'd done it before. You're self-assured as Hell, and that's typically not a characteristic of someone who's never fucked or been fucked. At least, not in his experience. And Lord knows he's got plenty of it. So, in all honesty, when you beg him to take your virginity, it comes as a surprise.

"I'm sorry—what?"

So much of a surprise that it rouses a hearty laugh from the thick of his chest. It doesn't register that that 'please' was as genuine and whiny as a bitch in heat. It doesn't register that you've got your palms wrapped around his wrists and that you frown at his patronizing sense of humor.

"Well, if you don't want to, I'll find someone else to do it."

"No," and that contemptuous laughter stops hard in its tracks, "Never said I wouldn't do it." Because—and he'd die before admitting it, but—the thought of your legs wrapped around someone else's waist, your nails raking down someone else's back makes him physically ill. You're his girl. Have been since the day you pitched a dead-on fastball to the Hawkins dunk tank target just to see him flounder into the shallow pool.

Billy crosses his arms over his chest, still trying to swallow the fact that he would be the first one to ever lay hands on you like that and to that degree. He sizes you up with those steely blues just to make you feel small. But it doesn't work; it never works on you. Hence the whole virgin debacle. It's gotta be celibacy, right? There's no way you've never done it. Sure, you're a pain in the ass, but who doesn't love a good lookin' challenge?

Your eyes light up, and you're back to bouncing onto the balls of your feet—"So you'll do it? You'll fuck me?"

"Jesus Christ, sounds so vulgar comin' outta your mouth."

"Yeah, yeah, but you'll do it, right?"

"Sure, yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

"'Whatever.' You can say no—"

"Yeah, and I suggest you zip it before I leave you to some pervert with sweaty hands and a fuckin' combover," he grumbles, and you know he's joking, but you also know Billy's mean enough to mean it. You stick your tongue out at him and grin when he copies you and all is right with the world. Except for the fact that you're walking around with your virginity in tact.

"So what, you want me to take you out to dinner first or somethin'?

"Nah, nah, just... yunno... the dirty work—"

He shakes his head. "Alright—"

"Lay it on me, Billy, gimme that weak-in-the-knees treatment—"

"You're so fuckin' weird."

"I can't hear you, Billy Hargrove's gonna pop my cherry—"

"Gross." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket, scraping his boots along the concrete towards his car, ignoring the annoyed looks from a what looks like a group of sophomore girls.

"Wait—!" You jog a few feet in front of him and stop him before he can reach for the shiny silver door handle. His cold eyes swoop across your cheek with a determined flicker in them that contests your own. "Gonna ask me when I'm free?"

He scoffs. "When are you free?"

"I dunno—"

"I don't think I've ever worked this hard for a piece of ass—"

"Shh! Just... would you play along? We're literally discussing the well-being of my sex life here," you jab, dramatic as ever leaning back against his car door with your arms crossed and your brows raised.

"Fine," he huffs, "How 'bout I swing by around... seven? The sun'll be set, and—"

"That sounds perfect. I'll see you at eight!"

You flit away with a grin, seemingly satisfied to have secured one more part of your future. Meanwhile, Billy's ducking into his car, flipping his zippo open-shut-open-shut compulsively to distract himself. Heart racing a mile a minute like he's the one with the pretty laugh and the soft hands and the virginity. How the Hell are you still a virgin?

Billy sat outside your house in his Camaro for half an hour, too stressed to smoke but too eager to go back home and take it out on some dumbbells. By the time he makes it to your front door, he's dripping sweat like he's fresh off the racetrack, and you ask him if he's okay like you care. Like he's here for anything more than a quick fuck.

He waits in his boxers for you to change in the bathroom, standing at the end of your bed and glancing over all of your posters. And the unlit candle on your desk. And the stacks of books in the corner. The trinkets and jewelry and stuffed animals and personality. The sun sinks lower and lower until the room is dark blue, the only source of indoor light a small, warm bulb plugged into the wall socket.

You come up behind him and scare him half to death with a cold hand on his shoulder. Only cold because he's overheating because he's in your bedroom because he's about to do the thing he's drooled and schemed over since the first time he saw you in a bikini.

"Don't go tellin' people about this, alright? Could be bad for business."

"Okay."

You're standing in front of him, batting your eyelashes in the dark, settling into the floor wearing little to nothing. Just a thin white bra and old panties. And for the first time, you seem small. Like you're trying to shrink in on yourself. And his nerves dissipate just enough for him to smirk to himself. He never thought he'd be able to make you nervous. That's one less bullet on his bucket list.

He can see your catty eyes flicking across the bare expanse of his chest like a bowl of warm milk. Like you'd dip your tongue in and lap at his ivory surface until the dish was clean. For the first time, he feels exposed. And he thinks he'd like to get used to it.

He also never thought your silence would fill him with such unease. You shift weight from right to left slowly, breathing deep and chewing the inside of your cheek. And your entire body goes stiff when he shuffles closer in the darkness.

"Feelin' okay?"

You nod.

"Hmm. One to ten?" he murmurs.

You mull it over and blow a puff of hot air up against your forehead.

"Considering I'm about to have mind-blowing sex, I feel like I should be at a ten."

He cocks a brow. "But?"

"But..."—you wring your palms, nervously feeling over the tendons and knuckles, like you're gauging their existence one more time—"I'm really fuckin' nervous," you huff.

He remembers that feeling. Not because he felt it at the same moment or for the same reason, but because it's the exact way you feel at the crest of a rollercoaster just before you plummet. The weightlessness of your stomach, the way your brain sort of short-circuits regardless of how great it is to fall. It's easy to forget the drop was the whole reason you got in line in the first place.

"No need to be nervous, babydoll. I'll be nice. Won't even bite," he says with a taunting shrug, "Unless you ask me to."

You cast your eyes down and drop your arms to your sides. He tilts his head, desperate for you to look back at him, for you to devour him with a look like that's all he's good for.

"What now?"

You take a deep breath.

"Thing is... I think I'd be okay if you weren't so nice this time around. If that makes sense," you sigh, shoulders slumping just a little further, "Just... treat me like one of your other hookups, you know? I mean, I'm not askin' to be slapped around or anything, but I'm not exactly made of glass."

Billy chuckles and his heart is beating so fast and all he can grumble out is: "I can work with that."

You beam up at him, catching the spark of the nightlight and reaching for his hand. It gives you a golden halo and sheds soft amber across the angles of his face. The slop of his nose and the tops of his cheeks a burnt yellow.

"Ready?" he hums.

You nod. "'M ready."

He dips down with all the sweet intentions in the world, only for you to tilt away. His lips meet your cheek, and even then, you feel the curve of a grin. He presses another to your temple, and you weave your fingers through the wild locks at the back of his head.

His nose nudges the soft shell of your ear as he whispers, "Still want me to take your virginity?"

You nod and he pulls away, curling his fingers into the back of your neck like a mother to its disobedient kitten. You coo and rest both hands on his chest, blinking hard when he grits his teeth into a smile.

"Say it."

"I—Billy," you say, shivering when his pinky brushes along the top of your spine.

"C'mon, don't go all quiet on me now. We're just gettin' started."

"Billy, please, I want—"

"Ah-ah."

"I need—I need you to fuck me, Billy, please take my virginity."

"That's my girl."

My girl, my girl, that's my girl. Billy. It’s only a whisper but it sends you both reeling; only his reeling is gritted teeth and yours is fluttering lashes. Sweet versus sour with his hand patting your hip and your fingertips ghosting over his skin.

"Knees."

"Billy—?"

"On your knees. Won't ask again."

"But I've never—"

"Shh, I know, just... trust me," he whispers. And as you lower to the floor, he realizes it's more than he's asked of anyone. It's more than anyone's offered. He's been violent and unkind—untrustworthy. And that kind of reputation makes people like you untrusting. Except, not people like you. Just people. Not you.

Admiration and lovesickness clouds the logical part of his brain, and in a panic, he slots his fingertips between your soft lips. You hold his wrist when he leers down at you like a cat. He coos softly above you when your tongue wets the pads of his fingers without a word more. If only your mouth was the problem. If only shutting you up would release your talons from his heart. No, you're locked in and you don't even know it yet.

"Billy," you cry, peeling his spit-slick fingers from your mouth and wiping at your cheek when you gag. He's ill over you, filled with thick and sugary warmth, forgetting how hard he is and how close your mouth is to his thighs.

"Sorry. 'M sorry, come to the bed." His thumb swipes across your jaw when you stand and settle into your mattress. Oh, and the way the moonlight washes over you is sinful. The way you're so close to being two bodies in baby blue. Instead of you and Billy and your virginity, you'll be together and defiled. Debauched and unwound.

You can't understand his sudden tenderness when he pushes the crotch of your panties aside and palms at himself. Why he leans down to nip at the soft and wet of your labia. Then glances up at you like heaven.

He rears back when you squeal, shocked at your awkwardness and sensitivity in his hands. And before that, it had felt natural. Like he had wanted to and was urged to. But you'd been none the wiser. And now you're tensing up at his touch simply because he couldn't keep his teeth to himself.

"Feelin' shy?" he says.

You let out a harsh breath that might've been a laugh if you hadn't gripped his shoulder and cooed. "Quit bein' mean, Billy. Skip to the good part."

He chortles and shakes his head, rubbing his thumb around your clit while shuffling out of his boxers.

"The good part, huh?" he huffs. He'd crack another joke if he could—if he wasn't distracted by the desire glistening over his fingers and your supple inner thighs. Wet and tempting especially because it's you.

He feels bad when you hiss but can't help himself from nudging deeper and closer in your tight warmth. You whine and whine about how thick and full and good it feels, and each little mewl beckons him closer until he's pressed to your chest, mindlessly drooling down your neck. If you'd let him, he'd lay this close for hours. With your hand on his neck and holding his waist while he drives his hips against yours.

The way you whisper his name against his ear makes him shudder, drill into you deeper, roll his hips wider. He'd foam at the mouth if it weren't for his ideals. Though, now, even those were slipping from him by the minute.

Love had never crossed his mind before. Maybe if his mother wasn't such a distant memory, it'd be a more prominent factor in his life. Maybe if he had someone to look after. Someone to look after him. Love was never a question of choice before, but now, while you're holding him in your careful arms and peppering kisses like freckles to his cheeks, maybe it could be. He could choose to stay this close forever and promise to be yours. His hard won reputation disintegrates when you lay your fingertips on him.

It all starts to feel a little raw. A little hotter and wetter and harder. Soft collisions turn to thuds, snaps, jolts. To keep him grounded in his ways, to keep him keen and wild. Your mouth hangs open at his cheek, your arms draped over his shoulders. You lie limp in his taut arms like he'll take care of you. Like he has any semblance of bedside manners. The rawness turns to tenderness, and you whine about the searing pain with a hand in his wet curls.

"Burns a little, Billy," you chirp, tilting your head back with a gritted smile.

"Drippin' down my leg, babydoll. Just a little longer," he grumbles. You nod. His back curls almost unnaturally. Animalistic and seemingly impervious, he cracks his hips against yours until the wet slapping fills the room and your headboard threatens to snap from the foundation. Your back arches, and you yelp when he slaps your thigh and groans in your ear.

"Atta girl," he sighs, pulling away and giving a few solid thrusts, as a makeshift goodbye kiss. Still licking his lips, but this time with the marks to show for it. He wears the hot pink from your nails down his back like armor, slowly pulling his soft cock from your cunt and rucking his boxers up to his hips.

"Jesus Christ," you huff, throwing your arms above your head. "You're fucking insane."

"And you're fucking tight. Poor guy's gonna need a couple'a days to recover."

"Oh, boohoo."

Billy slips back into his shirt and winks, "Don't worry, babydoll, he'll be ready for round two in no time.”

"Fuck you."

"Just did."

masterlist

#stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #x fem!reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove smut #stranger things smut #billy hargrove x f!reader #x f!reader #stranger things x fem!reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #18+ #mdni

[botnasty]

Miguel O'Hara X reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader

Summary: You've finally moved on from the man, but did he?

Words: 1,3k

Warning: Angst, mention of miscarriage, big intimidating man, it's just sad people.

Note: Thank you so much character Ai for giving me the idea. Go check out @ fairybaby on c.AI. Also please do tell if I am missing some warnings^^

MAIN MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

It happened so fast. One moment you were kissing your new boyfriend goody-bye and the other you had a big scary spider in your living room. Well, a “wanna-be-scary" spider, because that man was your ex-boyfriend.

You sighed removing the high heels you wore to that date. “What are you doing here, Miguel?” When he said nothing, you scoffed. “Can you even have the decency to remove your mark? It’s not like I don’t know your secret.”

“You left your window unlocked.” He said in that deep voice of his that used to make you melt on the spot. He removed his mask, His eyes were glaring at you. He looked the same as the last time you had seen him, which kinda made you sad. You thought that the break up would affect him as much as it did you, but you should’ve guessed. Nothing fazed Miguel O’Hara except for his Spider business. “How many times have I told you to lock it?” You rolled your eyes, but said nothing. instead you stepped closer to him and looked straight in his eyes, something not a lot of people were able to do from how muscular, tall and intimidating the man was.

“You already found another boyfriend?” Miguel asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Miguel’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

You took a step back, fighting the glare of the man with our own. “You are not my boyfriend anymore. You can’t dictate what I do in life.”

When he hears that, Miguel has to bite back a snarl. He's livid that she's not giving an inch - he's not used to that. He's always been able to be the dominant one in the relationship.

"Sure, sure. Fine," his tone is cold and bitter. "Do whatever you want."

“Yes, I will. Good bye, Miguel. Please close the door once you’ve left.” You turned around and started to walk to go get a drink. You were in deep need of one after seeing him.

“Come home.”

‘No.”

He hates this so much. He doesn't want to be the one to lose control, but it's happening anyway. And it's all his own fault. Miguel can feel himself start to boil with rage. His fingers flex as his fists clench.

As you turn to walk away, Miguel grabs your wrist, spinning you around. With a sneer on his face, he glares down at you. "I told you to come home. I am not a man who begs, so just do what I say. And come back home with me."

You tugged your arm off his hold. “And I told you that I don’t belong to you anymore. You can’t control me Miguel. I’m not like all those other Spider people you can just control around to do whatever you like. I am my own person and that is why we aren’t together anymore; because you only see me as this doll for you to manipulate.”

His head snaps back a little bit as you yank your arm away, but he doesn't let go and instead he steps forward, his eyes blazing. Miguel's never been in this situation before - losing control to someone other than himself. His hands wrap around your wrists with a painful grip as he glares down at you.

"You think you're better than them?" He growls. "You're nothing but a pathetic human, and you belong with me."

“You’re hurting me.” Your eyes started to get glazed with tears. Your wrist hurting from his powerful hold and by his claw digging into your skins.

Miguel's eyes widen when he realizes he's hurting her. He lets go and steps back, taking a second to regain himself and calm his temper. "I'm sorry." He says, but he doesn't know if he really means it, or if he's just trying to be a good person.

You rubbed your now slightly bruised wrist, trying to soothe the hurt. Fury and pain were clashing inside of you. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or slap the man for having the audacity. “I know you aren’t, Miguel. Please leave me alone. This is the exact reason I broke up with you.”

"You broke up with me because I get angry easily?" Miguel repeats, with a scoff. "That's ridiculous." He steps back to cross his arms across his chest, glaring down at you. "You just don't like people standing up to you - and I was the only one who did."

“You call that standing up to me? I call this abuse and over-protectiveness. You weren’t in love with me Miguel. You just liked knowing you had someone you could control.” Your eyes were frantically looking in between his brown one you used to love staring at in the morning.

Your words sting. Miguel winces, taking a few seconds to let out a frustrated growl. His head snaps back for a second before he takes a deep breath. His tone is calm, but cold, "I did love you."

"You just never let me prove it."

“I gave you plenty of chances, Miguel. And every time… you just proved me the opposite. Where were you when I had my miscarriage? Where were you when I needed you the most? You were just out there being Spider-Man, Miguel.” Tears were now flowing down your eyes.

He knows you are right, but part of him doesn't want to admit it. Miguel felt his temper start to boil again, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"That's what I had to do," he growled, defensively. "I have responsibilities. I couldn't be there for you."

Miguel knew he was wrong. He was terrible to you. But that didn't mean it was easy to admit that she deserved more.

“You are right. That is what you need to do… Spider-man has taken a big part of your life, Miguel. I don’t see where I fit in anymore.”

You sighed. “I'm done with this conversation. Good bye, Miguel.” You pointed at your door.

He's left with two options at this point: he can either let you leave, and face the reality that he's lost control over you... Or he can try to stop you, and maybe, somehow, get you back. And that's the option he chooses. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he can't stand the thought of walking out of that door.

"Wait!" he calls out, stepping towards you. "Can I- We can talk about this-"

‘No, Miguel. There is nothing to talk about this. Please.” You placed a hand on his biceps with a sad smile. “If you love me like you say you do… let me go. Let me be happy.”

He wants to argue, but he knows she's right: he can't keep her against her will. You have good reason to leave him - and you really want to.

Miguel lets out a pained sigh and steps back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine." He says, in a bitter tone. "Do whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself." He's obviously holding a lot back - he wanted to tell you everything - but he's not going to force you to listen.

“Thank you… this is goodbye, Miguel. And don’t worry, your secret is safe. Take good care of yourself.” You smiled at him one last time then opened the door and left.

Miguel watched her go for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, before sighing and burying his head in his hands, a mix of emotions running rampant through him as he contemplates what's just happened.

After a while, he sighed, and looked to the open door, looking out into the city that he's spent so little time in these days. He knew that, if he didn't want to lose her... He had to make some changes.

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