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rboooks · 11 months

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DC x DP Fic idea: The Bakery is a Front!...right?

Danny Fenton starts his own business in Gotham. He knows that moving to Gotham is dangerous in a way, but it is the only other place with enough natural ectoplasm that can sustain him.

He wanted to move away from Amity Park to start on a clean slate. His parents now knew the truth, and to show their support, they were turning their research into a more sociological base instead of biological- I.E. ripped ghosts apart. Jaz got accepted into her dream college- Oxbridge. She moved overseas and is doing well in her advanced physiological courses. They told their parents of Dani, who promptly adopted her and signed her up for a traveling club under the condition she returned home for school.

The ghosts stopped challenging him after he explained Amity was his haunt and that it was bad manners to spar inside a haunt. He is open game in the ghost zone, but Danny got to choose when to go in there- his obsession requires him to defend something, so defending weaker ghosts in the Zone was a good option.

Danny always wanted to be an astronaut, but his teenage vigilante lifestyle ruined his chances- it isn't even his grades. It's a fact Danny's heart is so slow due to his ghost side it is mistaken as a heart condition. No space program would ever send him up with that. Danny decided that he would instead go with his second joy- baking. He opened Phantom Bakes in his second week in Gotham using funds from his Ghost King vault.

He served everyone and asked no questions. He was mostly sure half of his customers were gang members, but he didn't start anything and didn't allow any fights in his bakery. He became a sort of haven for everyone. He even began preparing packs for people experiencing homelessness, and bought the building next door to put some heating systems for anyone to sleep In during the winter.

Despite his obsession with protection, his human side made it possible for him to ignore it. He decided that his teenage years were spent too much giving in to his obsession and that in his twenties, he would retire. He did nothing while the various Bats threw themselves into battle, he turned a blind eye to petty crimes and basically tried not to bring any attention to himself.

He managed about six months until he accidentally walked through a cloud of fear gas while texting Sam and Tucker. His friends were tying the knot- the fact they all were best friends and exes was only slightly strange- and he was so focused on helping them plan the wedding as their Best Man he didn't hear the gasps, and horrified yells until he ran into Scarecrow.

He apologized for not looking where he was going and got a needle shoved unto his arm as a response. Danny's reflex to that was to punch the man a foot away from him.

The Bats quickly locked up the villain, and Danny decided he needed to be gone as fast as possible. He tried to return to his everyday life, but the next day, some of Scarecrow's goons showed up at his bakery asking him for work....so he hired them and taught them to make pastries. Then those goons brought over some friends who needed work but were recovering addicts and couldn't find employment.

He added coffee to his menu and threw them into that. Then some street kids asked if he would buy some stuff from them. Danny told them that he wasn't interested in car parts, but he was interested in furniture for the building next door. He had kids bringing in broken bookshelves, bed frames, and much more, paying them far more than the shady garages would.

Then some shady groups of men kept coming to his bakery asking for money for protection but Danny can protect himself just fine and proved it every single time a group made trouble.

He started having the streey kids make deliveries hoping to get them out of life of crime.

He made natural ectoplasm which, after much testing and research done by his parents, proved to clean out dangerous substances from the body. He made unique pastries that could help overcome addiction and heal withdraw.

He saw the light slowly return to the eyes of a drug-ridden community, and it brought him so much joy he barely charged for them.

Unknown to Danny, he has set himself as a up and coming villain. Rumors of his Fear Gas immunity attracted the attention of the Joker- who was found with all limbs broken, beaten black and blue after the clown tried to take a swing at Danny's employees. The baker had taken his broken body back to Arkharm, dragging the bleeding man through the streets uncaring of the line of red he left or the various people recording him in awed fear.

The rest of Gotham waited to see his true colors as he carefully built a front and gathered people. Some want to take him out as soon as possible.

Red Hood, most of all, after he heard that Danny had kids run special deliveries to know addicts. The only reason he hadn't blown his brains out was because Danny hadn't set himself up in crime alley.

The Bats had even talked him into joining an undercover mission to learn more about Danny. They didn't know what drugs he was moving or if he had a hand in other crimes, and needed more information that Oracle was unable to find.

She couldn't pull anything on Danny, driving her insane. (Techus erased Danny from the internet as a prank once and forgot to undo it.)

That led to Jason and Tim entering Phantom Bakes, acting like street kids who ran away from a homophobic father looking for a job.

Danny had them decorate cupcakes within the hour, letting them know he didn't expect them to crunch out masterpieces. They knew it would be a while to see Danny's real business so they bite thier tongues and got to work.

Tim just hopes they finish this mission before Jason snaps and shoots their main suspect....or before Danny romances the entire of Gotham because, goddammit, he has as much game as Brucie pretends to have. It's getting frustrating to see so many people throwing themselves at him, only for Danny to pretend not to notice. His good looks, charming personality, and carefully manipulated cover, drag good people into his schemes. He didn't want another Harley Quinn.

(He will ignore that his heart skips a beat whenever Danny gets too close. Thank you very much. It's just a crush; people get those all the time.)

(Part 2) (Part 3)

#DC x DP #dcxdp crossover #People think Danny is a villian #when in reality he is just vibing #his ghost side is alluring #Lowkey hes a siren #Jason wants his head in his dufflebag #Tim is 19 #Danny is 21 #the bakery is a front!...right?

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diejager · 4 months

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OMG your kast post about Step-Dad Konig and Horangi was INSANE and i was wondering if you could do one with the reader getting Pregnant because of this and like Konig and Horangi decide that it's time for her to be taken into a new life with them far from everything and just breed her over and over till she's broken by Stockholm syndrome

(Yes i have issues no worries ^^)

Cw: DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, age gap, implied kidnapping, tell me if I missed any.

The time they spent fucking you, ploughing you open with heir cocks in every hole and stuffing you with so many loads of cum that you leaked for days. They made sure to plug you up after tampering with your method of birth control, taking away any safety measures you had put up against them and to protect yourself from their cruelty and control. You, however, hadn’t expected them to be so determined to sabotage your birth control and have you tied to your bed, fucked until all you could think about was the girth of their cocks and cry out their names, back arching and toes curling.

It started slow, like any regular day with either of them when your mom wasn’t home. In the morning, König had you, splayed over his desk, tits pushed against the cold surface with one thigh over the edge while he bent you in two, ramming into you with so much force that the whole table shook. He growled and groaned, hissing out promises that he intended to uphold on his part, staining the walls of your womb with his dirty and thick cum, leaking around the heaviness of his girth and sticking to his mahogany desk. It goes on like that for a few more rounds, usually three or four after a break, his refractory period wasn’t what it used to be in his earlier days —in the prime of his life.

Horangi would come by around noon, he’d find you seated on the couch, dozing away after König was done with you, slipping between your legs and spread you open with his tongue. He’s eat you out for hours if he had the time, tongue dipping into your hole and swirling around your twitching nub, drunk on your mewls and wails. He groaned into you when your nails dug into his scalp, pulling at his black locks, thighs closing around his head and walls clenching his fingers. After pushing you over the edge a few times, he drilled into you, pounding you into the couch, smearing tears and drool onto the softness, ass propped up to take his long cock into your sweet, slick and swollen cunt, filling you with cum. He chuckled and sneered at you for wasting his precious load when it oozed out of your overfilled cunt, dripping down your thighs and dropping heavily on the black couch. It would’ve stained if they weren’t careful about keeping their activities a secret from your mother.

In the afternoon, a few hours before your mom’s scheduled to come home, you’re pulled away from your work by your stepdad who called it a day, usually around 3pm. He trapped you in the kitchen, ravaging you on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist and his rough fingers wrapped around your neck, he rammed into you with such force that it punched the air out of your lung, leaving you gasping and incoherently moaning for him. He passed you to Horangi once he’s done, resting against the counter he just fucked you on to recover from his high. Horangi has you ride him, thighs burning from the strain and heat of grinding yourself against him and hips cramping from having to worked yourself up and down his hard cock, the leaky head of his shaft kissing your cervix while he devoured you, lips latched onto yours and drowning your cries with nipping teeth and an invading tongue.

It all lead to the day you found out you were with child, the tests in your hands a glaring evidence to their success and your mother’s reluctant acceptance —she was worried, scared and stuck in the blind to your situation and how it came to this. After the second month, there was a slight swell in your stomach, a soft bump with your growing child, Horangi pulled you to his car and drove to a clinic to have your child tested to see whether he or König was the father. Whatever the answer was, they had you move in next door, taking up the vacant side of Horangi’s bed. You protested about it, telling them how he had a guest room just across the hall, only to be shocked into silence when they showed you Horangi’s so-called guest room.

It was neither a guest room, nor an office, it was a nursery. The walls were painted in a neutral tone, a calming and comforting beige against white furniture, the soft, grey carpet and the few blue accents in the room. There were empty drawers and a box full of children’s toys shoved into a wall and it was left there until a baby grabbed at them, awaiting the chubby hands of their owner. It was already stocked full with the necessities of a baby, diapers, soft blankets, a security system of the whole room, a comfortable recliner and shelves full of small necessities to intertwine and care for a child.

Everything had been prepared in advance —premeditated. They’d planned it all from the start, their immediate obsession and need to touch you during the first week of him moving in then the intimate and feral interactions put upon you despite your reluctance. If you hadn’t been so dazed, mind blank of any thought, you would have heard them discuss your future. They wanted a little wife to breed and care for, the object of their obsession kept for their eyes alone in the kitchen and the bedroom. It scared you, your only solace was to hold the growing bump, wrapping your arms around yourself for protection from them and the house. You needed answers.

Your blood ran cold when you turned to look at your stepdad and his friend, their gleeful eyes, gleaming with excitement at the prospect of building a family —one to tie you down to them.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

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bby-deerling · 3 months

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just the tip (law x reader nsfw)

this came to me in a dream (and by dream i mean goon session)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 1.0k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, teasing, edging, dom law, pwp, spanking (law smacks your ass, no weird undertones to it), messy sex, devious backshots, evil sex

tagging some law kissers: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @willowhaze26 @sanjisjuul @sanjisprincesswifey @risenwrites @kaizokuniichan @alicesfracturedmirror

“Law, please…” you whine, knuckles turning as white as the sheets threaded between your fingers. A tease at his core, he’s floating on cloud nine as he watches you, sprawled out, face buried into the pillow and whimpering in frustration as he continues to only allow himself to slip just the slightest bit into your drooling pussy. Though he considers himself benevolent in his own twisted way, for working you up so slowly and thoroughly, the soft, needy, desperate pleas that fall from your lips land on deaf ears; Law will only give you the fullness you crave on his terms—no matter how much you beg and plead, you’ll only get it once he’s ready.

You’re so pretty like this, heat radiating from your body as blood pumps rapidly through dilated vessels, mewling and whining each time he barely presses into your weeping sex. The way that such a small portion of him slipping inside of you turns you into a writhing mess makes Law drunk on the high of control, satisfied in his ability to render you into a pile of mush to sculpt as he sees fit.

But as fun as keeping you in this state is, he has other plans for you.

His hand comes down sharply against the plush skin of your ass, making you let out a small yelp, muffled by the dark cotton fabric of the pillowcase. Before you recover from the shock, he bottoms out inside of you without warning, frying the circuits of your mind as he fills you up with his length.

Reaching down towards the vertex of your thighs, he traces his fingers along your folds, coating them in the slick arousal that envelops every inch of his cock as he keeps himself buried inside you, but remains painfully still. “Looks like someone wants it bad…” he taunts, smearing his fingers down the side of your inner thigh, making you twitch as cool air runs across the remnants of your essence.

“Mhm—” you whimper softly, body flooding with relief at finally having him inside of you; though, now that he’s given you what you’ve been yearning for, it’s not enough. More than anything—more than the need for air, food, or drink, and more than the urge to feel the sun’s rays on your skin after weeks spent submerged beneath the water—you need him to move.

Seeing the way your back arches towards him in response makes him exhale sharply with amusement; though you're laying face down, you can feel the feral grin spreading on his face as he stares down at the way the base of his shaft is flush against your entrance. You’re molten hot, dripping, and gripping his cock loosely with tiny intermittent flutters, all from simply having him inside you, in the most basic definition of the term. Though, the way your whole body slightly jumps when his hand makes contact with your skin once more piques his interest and makes him throb and twitch inside of you. “You like that, don’t you?” he purrs as he runs his tattooed hand across the flushed, red mark, grasping a handful of your plush skin between his fingers.

Had any sanity been left in your buzzing, dizzy mind, you would tell him that you love every bit of it, from the way that tiny pockets of electricity rush towards the point of impact, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake, to the warm press of his hands across the freshly marked skin, smoothing over the shock with the roll of his fingers. However, too lost in the dense fog of lust clouding your senses, all you can muster is a needy whimper of mhm. With a smirk, he gives you one last smack before laying on top of you, caging you beneath him.

Warmth envelops you as he presses his chest flush to your back, and he uses the opportunity to bury himself even deeper inside of you; his slow, controlled exhales are hot on your ear, creating a dissonance with your shallow erratic breaths. The gap only widens as he softly chuckles against the crook of your neck and slips an arm underneath your waist and starts to play with your aching bud, making your cheeks burn and your heart race. “Take it for me.” he whispers lowly as he starts to move, sinking himself into you as far as possible, but at an agonizingly slow pace. Though he was giving in to the allure of your needy body, he remains steadfast in his aim to work you up slowly, rubbing lazy circles into your clit as other hand kneads the plump flesh of your ass, smoothing out any remaining stings from his smacks that were coursing underneath your skin.

Limp and pliant underneath him, you’ve given in and surrendered to his iron resolve, mewling and drooling into the pillow as he rolls his hips into yours and scatters bites and kisses along the column of your neck; once his tongue starts tracing rhythmic circles along your skin, matching the pace of his inked fingers on your bud, glowing white-hot heat begins to pool in your core. You try to let out a mangled please, but the word is incoherent, melting into the amalgamation of whimpers escaping your throat; as the frequency of your walls clamping around him increases, Law knows you’re close—for a moment he considers denying you and stretching out your climax even further, though you look so sweet underneath him that he can’t help but let you come.

And when your mind shatters, with nothing remaining but the drag of his cock along your insides and the heat of his tongue along your neck, he gives it to you—hard and frenzied, losing his own mind as he pounds you into the mattress and sinks his teeth into your skin. The head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with each pass, leaving you mewling and nearing your crest again, though right when you are about to fall into another abyss of pleasure, he stops.

Teeth sink into fabric as you let out a muffled scream of frustration that Law ignores as he desperately tries to control his strangled breathing—he hadn’t intentionally meant to deny you this time—he was simply giving himself a piece of his own medicine, slowing down his thrusts once his thighs began to twitch.

Though your pleas for him to keep going are beginning to sound sweet and convincing, he continues to draw out his own orgasm, inadvertently torturing you in the process; Law knows exactly what he's doing with each halt of his hips and every stutter of his pace, but finds himself unapologetic—after all, why should you get to have all the fun?

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario

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deargojou · 3 months

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【 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 】

You pressed your hand gently against Megumi’s forehead, frowning at the intense heat radiating from his skin. His normally porcelain complexion was flushed pink across his cheeks, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

“Your fever still feels really high,” you murmured worriedly, brushing his dark bangs back from his face.

Megumi gave a small nod, the slightest grimace crossing his face at the movement. “I’ll be alright. Don't worry about me too much.” His voice was hoarse and lacked its usual composed strength.

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Of course I’m going to worry when my boyfriend is sick. Now hush and let me take care of you.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but quickly shut it at the stern look you gave him. Even in his weakened state, he knew better than to argue with you when you had made up your mind.

You had only been dating Megumi for a few months, but you cherished every moment together. Beneath his stoic, aloof exterior lay a kind heart and fierce loyalty. And though he was always composed around others, you delighted in slowly coaxing him out of his shell.

While Megumi had initially been shy about intimacy, your patience and affection eventually helped him open up. You lived for the small smiles he would give you, the way his pale cheeks would flush when you complimented him. He was still easily flustered by overt shows of romance, but you found it hopelessly endearing.

Now, as you tenderly cared for your ailing boyfriend, you were reminded of just how vulnerable Megumi allowed himself to be with you. He obediently swallowed the medicine you gave him to bring down his fever, though he insisted he could feed himself the hot soup you had prepared.

You just smiled knowingly, recognizing the subtle, prideful streak in Megumi. Compromising, you allowed him to eat on his own but remained close by in case he needed assistance.

After eating what little he could manage, his energy was spent. You helped him change out of his sweat-dampened shirt into a fresh one, taking care not to look directly at his bare torso―though the tempting glimpse of smooth, toned muscle made your face grow warm.

Once he was settled back against his pillows, you placed a cool cloth across Megumi’s burning forehead. He released a small sigh of relief at the sensation.

“How are you feeling now?” you asked softly, gently sweeping his bangs off his face.

“A bit better, thanks to you,” he murmured.

Your heart fluttered at even that small, precious smile. “I’m glad. Try to rest, okay? I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

His eyes drifted closed, though you could tell he was still fighting off sleep. You began carding your fingers lightly through his hair, soothingly massaging his scalp. After several moments, his breathing grew slow and even, his body relaxing into much-needed sleep.

You gazed down at his peaceful sleeping face. Megumi worked so hard taking care of everyone else, but was reluctant to rely on others in return. It made you happy to be able to care for him while he was vulnerable, proving he could depend on you.

When he awoke a few hours later, the flush had faded from his cheeks somewhat. But upon seeing you sitting dutifully by his bedside, a new bloom of pink blossomed across his pale skin.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, sounding quietly surprised.

You gave him a soft smile. “Of course. I want to make sure you recover properly.”

You reached out to feel his forehead again. “Mmm, still a bit warm. Are you feeling any better though?”

“Yes, much better thanks to your diligent care,” he said again.

You grinned. “Well, aren’t you quite the flatterer when you’re sick and defenseless.”

His blush deepened at your playful ribbing. Even now, after months of dating, he was easily flustered by your affectionate attention.

“Here, you should eat a little more,” you said gently, handing him a bowl of rice porridge. “This will be easy on your stomach.”

Megumi accepted the bowl with quiet ‘thanks’ before picking up the spoon to feed himself again. After a few bites, however, his arm drifted down weakly to rest.

Wordlessly, you retrieved the spoon from his slender fingers. Scooping up a small amount of porridge, you brought it to his lips.

His eyes widened slightly, “I… I can manage,” he protested half-heartedly.

“Shh, just let me help,” you insisted with a smile. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t spoon-feed my sick darling?”

At the open display of affection, Megumi looked utterly flabbergasted. But he obediently parted his lips, allowing you to feed him the porridge.

You weren’t sure if the renewed flush to his cheeks was from embarrassment or his lingering fever―likely both. But you relished being able to care for him so tenderly.

Once he had eaten his fill, you helped settle him back against the pillows once more. As you gazed down at him, you couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his cheek.

“You’re going to spoil me rotten if you keep this up,” he murmured, though he nuzzled ever so slightly into your touch.

You smiled, heart brimming with love for this boy who tried so hard to hide his softer side from the world. “Good,” you whispered. “You deserve to be spoiled sometimes.”

His gaze softened, his hand coming up to cover yours against his cheek. The simple intimacy of the moment made your breath catch.

“Get some more rest,” you eventually managed, reluctantly pulling your hand back. Already you missed the warmth of his skin.

Megumi’s eyes drifted closed again, his body relaxing into the mattress. As you watched over his sleeping form, you hoped he knew just how much you cherished him.

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honey-on-your-tongue · 9 months

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Dad's best friend Miguel

He'll come around for barbecues with your dad and eye you the entire time, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk every time he catches you already watching him.

He'll accidentally brush up against you all day. Holding onto your hip as he walks past you, his cock, half-hard under his jeans, pressing against your ass.

If you're wearing a skirt—which has become the default for you whenever he's around—he'll accidentally run into you in the kitchen and sneak a hand up the back of your skirt to palm at your ass.

He sits beside you when it's time to eat. He can maintain casual conversation with your parents, laughing and even making jokes even though he's already knuckles-deep in your cunt.

You, meanwhile, struggle to keep quiet. With a hand holding onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin, and the other one hastily pushing your food around your plate, it takes every single ounce of effort to not make a sound.

He makes you come on his fingers, a smirk of victory on his lips as he feels your velvet walls clench around him before your arousal gushes out of you.

Then, he removes his fingers. And when your parents' attention turns to you and they ask if you're alright, Miguel chuckles and says, “Had a beer too many, didn't you, princesa?”

Very conveniently, you've got a party that night, and it just so happens to be on the way of Miguel's place. So he offers to drive you.

Fuck the party, Miguel doesn't even have to try to convince you to go to his place instead.

Fuck his place. He finds an open expanse of field and parks his pickup there, headlights off, and pushes the driver's seat as far back as it can go.

You're quick to climb over the center console and onto his lap, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging at it.

Miguel chuckles, a low, deep rumble. “Look at you, princesa. Needed me so bad, did you?”

You whine quietly. “Yeah. So, so bad.” Your lips find his in a daze of heat. You kiss him eagerly, hungrily, lips parting to allow his tongue to slide into your mouth.

His huge hands hold onto your waist, moving down to your hips to grind you against his cock. You whimper and he groans.

He unzips his jeans, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free. The tip is an angry red from how hard he's been all day with no ounce of release. You're already soaked, ready to take him, but he fucks you with his fingers anyway.

“Come for me, princesa,” he says, voice raspy and demanding. “You have to come on my fingers if you want my cock, hm?”

It takes you almost no time to reach your release. You come with a shuddering gasp, moaning in the small space of his truck, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders.

“Good girl,” he says. “My good girl.”

You're still recovering from your orgasm when he gently slides you onto his cock. You mewl, head falling onto his shoulder, body limp.

He doesn't need you to do anything. He lifts you and lowers you on his cock, fucking you rough and deep. Your soaked pussy squelches loudly, overlapping with your whines and moans.

He grunts, eyes fluttering shut, eyebrows furrowing. He bites his lower lip, fingers bruising your hips. Your soft gummy walls have his heart racing, his ears ringing.

“Fuck, princesa,” he gasps. “What would your parents say if they saw you like this? If they knew how much of a slut you are?”

You mewl. It takes just about nothing for you to come, trembling on top of him, thighs squeezing his hips. He keeps you bouncing on his cock,fucking you until he's spilling deep inside you, his load filling your pussy.

He moans lowly, a soft growl escaping his lips. “Fuck. Fuck...”

As the two of you come down from your highs, he glances between your bodies, a smirk growing on his lips at the sight of your arousal smeared all over his hips and lower abdomen.

“Princesa, you look so pretty like that. Full of my cum,” he chuckles, voice still raspy.

You lean your head on his shoulder, body spent, and he holds you close, allowing you to regain your strength. By then, he's already hard once more, and you can feel your own arousal growing again.

“Do you still want to go to that party, princesa?” he asks, kissing your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “My place isn't far...”

You smile at him, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “I never wanted go to the party anyway.”

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A/N: Hehehe I know I'm super super super late to this, but I watched spiderman just yesterday and omg I just can't with Miguel 😩😩😩

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Blog masterlist

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse

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piratefishmama · 5 months

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Nest | Part 17

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

It’d been a week.

An entire week since Steve had last seen Eddie. He’d holed up in his apartment, spent the majority of his forced holiday time curled up in bed, or camping out on the sofa watching reruns of bad television. Robin had told him mid-way through the week that they weren’t in trouble, Wayne Munson didn’t intend to press for any complaints or legal action, but she’d heard nothing from Eddie.

Steve wasn’t in trouble, Owens wasn’t in trouble, he already had his next shift lined up at the end of the following week, already a new patient on the books to be seen to although he swore to himself that he wouldn’t be remotely as hands on as he’d been with Eddie. He’d do the minimum just like everyone else, he’d be there when he was needed, would provide care as required, but that was it.

He’d already had two complaints from other tenants shoved under his door about the stench though. Depressed alpha wasn’t a good smell, for Steve, people compared it to mould spores. Like walking into a bakery after a month of it being closed, only nobody had taken the produce away leaving everything to rot.

And the smell spread.

It didn’t matter that the owner of the building had boasted proper padding and ventilation in the ‘Alpha Safe’ apartments before he’d moved in, the smell seeped into every single corner, settled into fabrics, snuck under the front door and out into the hallway. He wanted his Omega.

He didn’t even really know his omega, but he wanted him. He’d made promises, promises he couldn’t keep with Eddie so far away. Promises he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to keep and wasn’t that just a terrifying notion. Eddie was alone again. His heat would come again, he’d be alone for it, there was no way he’d be able to get a clinic trip for free again. Freebies happen once and only in dire situations, after that you have a month to sort yourself out an alpha to join you, or you’re on your own.

It didn’t matter if a week of that month was spent recovering from an unsuccessful heat, you had a month, and Steve was well aware of the ticking clock, he spent most of the time just, looking at it on the wall. Ticking away, precious minutes going by tick by tock. It was ridiculous, he’d barely thought about Eddie Munson for years until he walked into that clinic and all of a sudden he was all Steve could think about. He pined, he yearned, he ached to see him, to make sure he was okay, and yet he couldn’t make himself take that trip to the trailer park where he knew Eddie lived.

It was an invasion of privacy, he’d already broken most of the policies at Nest, he didn’t want to break the last one too, even if he didn’t get Eddie’s address from the database at the clinic, even if he already kind of knew where Eddie lived beforehand.

Eddie deserved his privacy, he deserved his space to heal, to figure out what’d happened on his own time, to get himself and his head clear, to—screw it.

Steve had waited an entire week, he was going to get himself up, get himself showered, dressed, apply patches to his scent glands, he was going to open his front door and— stop dead in place because stood there, with a hand raised, poised to knock, was one Eddie Munson, his big brown doe eyes wide in surprise. “Uhm…” Eddie dropped his hand “hey, Steve, can… can we talk?”

“Eddie…” he rocked forwards, hands flexing as if to reach out, only to catch himself at the last minute, releasing a pained little whine from his throat, he wanted to touch, wanted to hold, to bury his face into all that hair and just breathe he was so close, so, so very close and every inch of Steve’s very being screamed at him to pull Eddie closer, to hold him as tightly as possible and never let him go again, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he wasn’t allowed, he didn’t have permission, he didn’t—

“It’s okay, alpha… you can touch, it’s okay” the dam broke in an instant, the second those consenting words reached his ears, he was wrapping Eddie up in his arms and holding him as tightly as he could, face buried into the side of his neck, arms squeezing him tight, if he could get any closer, if they could merge into one being, he’d do it. “Christ, big boy” Eddie huffed into his shoulder, even as he curled his own arms around Steve, even as he buried his nose into the fabric of Steve’s sweater and breathed deeply, letting himself be held.

Steve whined, squeezing him to his chest, desperate to smell him, but unable to, the Omega had patches on, hiding his scent from the world. Fuck he hated those blasted little things. “How are you here?”

Eddie eased back, forcing Steve to loosen his grip just so Eddie could look at him face to face “Buckley came by the trailer… can… can we go inside?” Robin. You scheming, rule breaking, beautiful human being. “We can talk in the hallway if you want but I’d rather—”

“No! Yeah, uhm. Yes, come in, sorry.” He stepped aside, motioning with his hand to let Eddie in, if he could think about anything other than the fact that Eddie was there, maybe he’d have felt self-conscious, maybe he’d have worried about the mess that’d built from him just wallowing, but no, he was just glad Eddie was there. No longer drenched in the sweet smell of heat, but still everything Steve could ever want.

He was back to his old self, leather, ripped denim, his rings clunky on his fingers, he didn’t look like an omega and likely sure as hell didn’t act like one either.

He was still the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen in his life. Maybe that was the rose tinted glasses, Steve didn’t care. Eddie was there, in his living room, making himself comfortable on the couch, seemingly uncaring about the smell.

“You can close the door, Steve, I’m okay.” Right, he’d been holding it open. He closed it, they were together. In the same room. Eddie had closed himself in with Steve voluntarily.

Honestly he could just cry. Eddie was there, he was safe. He was okay.

“Eddie I— I didn’t—”

“Didn’t hurt me, I know, Steve. I know you spent the whole night holding me while I slept, making sure I was okay. I know. I know you’re a good Alpha Stevie, I know.”

“You… you know?”

“Mmhm, Buckley. I mean… I kind of figured, once my head cleared up a little, nothing felt different and I wasn’t in any pain, which… I figured I probably would have been had you—y’know, but Robin came by with a tape from your boss. It just confirmed what I figured out myself. I’d have come sooner but… well, cramps. Can you sit down?” Steve startled into action, quickly sitting himself down in his arm chair, opposite where Eddie had sat on the couch to give him some space. “Look… I uh… I know… I know things were said at the clinic, and like… I get that you had a job to do, and that included making me feel better an all that shit, so—if—if you want, I can just—just forget that you said anything, y’know? Just… I don’t expect anything from you, I mean… You were just doing your job, an I was super inappropriate with you like, the whole time, the shit I said—I—I’m sorry dude, I—I wasn’t in my right mind an I know you were probably just bein nice an I appreciate that—”

“Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You said you wanted to spend my next heat with me, right? An uh… other stuff…” Stuff that’d made his knees weak when he’d remembered it. When the memories of Steve so close, his firm body pressed so tightly against his, when he’d remembered everything, when it’d all slammed back into his brain at breakneck pace leaving him horny and breathless, desperate for something thicker than his own fingers, endlessly frustrated that he didn’t have anything close to what he needed. “But I figured that was probably just to make me feel better or some shit, an I get it, I get that, I mean… there’s no hard feelings, I don’t expect anything from yo—”

“Eddie, do you want me?”

“What?” The poor Omega struck just a little stupid by the abrupt question.

“Simple question” Steve slipped from the arm chair, lowering himself down to his knees in front of his Omega, he reached both hands up to cup those perfectly soft cheeks, in awe of how beautiful Eddie was up close, the way those plush lips parted ever so slightly to breath a little heavier, the way his beautiful doe eyes widened, chocolate brown disappearing as black pupils blew wide, locked on Steve, the way his cheeks warmed under Steve’s palms. He only wished he could smell him. Wished Eddie hadn’t come out wearing those blasted patches. “Do you want me?”

“If… If I say yes will you finally kiss me?” There was only one way Steve could possibly answer that question, and that was by closing the gap between their lips, finally claiming the very first of many promised kisses still to come.

Part 19 (The End)

#PirateWrites #NestFiclet #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington

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tacticaldiary · 11 months

Note

omg saw your post and yes i’d love to see jealous fic with any of the cod men, especially simon >>>>>

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Jealousy

He's not a man who acts impulsively, but this might be the one time he throws caution to the wing and takes the one thing he wants.

A/N: Ghost won by a massive majority so here he is! (I read all of your asks, just chose this one to link the fic to!)

Masterlist

He was an enigma.

Quick to act and as observant as a cat on the field, Ghost picked up the smallest of details and clicked them all together in his head in milliseconds. Acting quickly and efficiently could be the distinction between life and death, after all.

So why the hell wasn't he as observant now?

She had spent months and months dropping hints. Lingering touches, secret smiles. At times, she might as well have told him up front how she fancied him with how she acted, but never once had Ghost reciprocated properly.

"Ya joining us, aren't ya?" Soap grins at her as they walk out of their respective locker rooms together. "Won't be the same without someone to go easy on the eyes." He snickers when she scoffs, nudging him with an elbow.

"I'll be there." She's unable to hold back a smile when he cheers and slings an arm around her shoulders.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Ghost on the far side of the hallway. He must not have gotten a chance to shed his gear yet. He's talking to Price, both of them engaged in what looks like a serious conversation, but every so often his eyes flitter over to her and Soap...more intense than usual?

It strikes her as odd, the heat behind his glances and a sneaking suspicion creeps into her mind. Grinning to herself, she wraps an arm around Soap's waist and tugs him closer while they walk, listening to him talk about the bar everyone plans to hit tonight.

His spine straightens and she swears she sees his arms tense, folded across his chest.

But he says nothing, Simply turns back to Price and doesn't spare her another glace when they walk by.

At this point, she just wants him to either confirm or reject her so she can get out of this eternal limbo of dancing back and forth. She knows he feels the same way to some degree, that much is clear to her. The way he sits next to her for hours when she gets injured on call and has to recover in the medbay, the rest of the 141 gone, late into the night.

She sees it in the way he has no problem guiding her by a warm hand on the small of her back, the way his eyes are the first to flicker to her mouth whenever she talks during a debriefing.

The interest it there, and it certainly isn't platonic. Not with the intensity of the tension between them.

Yet he never acts.

Never accepts her advances, but never pushes her away or rejects her either.

It was driving her crazy.

Fine. If he wanted to keep playing this strange game, he could keep doing so. It doesn't mean that she has to go along with it. She deserved to have some fun after their particularly gruelling mission too, right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The club is a new one, not yet broken in by the tradition of the team winding down after a deployment. Old school wooden bars and stool mixed with a modern twist of sleek decor, she rather likes it.

Strapped in a dress that had been in her closet for months unused, she makes herself forget about her back and forth with Ghost and just...enjoy herself.

Soap had been on her the second she entered, waving her over, Gaz pushing a drink into her hand with a cheeky smile. Price nurses a glass of whiskey by the bar. The only one she doesn't see is Ghost.

Sitting over at the bar listening to the boys go back and forth over what type of alcohol they preferred, she's mulling over whether to head to the floor. Deciding against it she waves the bartender over and asks for a refill.

"Put that on my tab." A man slides into the stool next to her, offering her a smile.

"Are you sure?" She asks, straightening up. The first thing she notices is that he's attractive. A strong jaw, lean and rich brown skin.

"Positive." He chuckles. "It'd be my honour to buy a drink for someone as gorgeous as you." His eyes rake over her once, before he drags them back to her eyes confidently.

The attention makes heat creep up her ears, not because it was particularly new, she's not a stranger to lingering glances, but because it's so blatant. Something tells her this man is not used to getting told no.

Not that she has any intention to do so.

She catches Price's eye, a silent raise of an eyebrow asking if she needed any help. Tired of mulling over someone who refused to reciprocate, she gives her Captain a subtle shake of the head and turns her body towards the man.

It makes her heart warm, how much Price cares about her and the others outside of them being his subordinates. There has to be a certain level of trust between people personally for them to completely trust each other on the field, and trust was something integral to all of them.

He introduces himself as Noah and strikes up a conversation that genuinely keeps her engaged. She's surprised to find out he watches her favourite show, and they share quite a few common interests.

While he's talking about what he does for a living, she feels a shiver run up her spine, eyes at the back of her head.

Looking around the room, it's not difficult to pinpoint the perpetrator.

Ghost looks...well, he look good, he always does, but there's a tightness to his posture like she saw back in that hallway with Soap. His jaw is ticked as he glares at Noah.

His eyes soften the barest bit when they meet hers.

No. No, she wasn't doing this right now. She was having fun with Noah right now, not thinking about Simon striding over towards her, pulling her up and out of the stool. That would not happen, she knows it. He wouldn't act on whatever was getting him riled up.

So she keeps talking to Noah, and yes, maybe she is being a little more animated than before. Perhaps she is giving him wider, flirtier smiles and leaning into him when he talks. Maybe her laughs are louder and her maybe she does place a hand on his arm once or twice but it's all because she would rather throw herself into this conversation than think about the other man staring holes into the back of her head.

At one point, Noah leans in close to her ear. "I can tell I have you impressed. What do you say I show you what other aspects of my shining...personality in a more private place?" He winks.

Simon wouldn't have been this forward, she thinks. He would've...what? Would he have taken his time with her? Bought her more than a single drink? He wasn't one for small talk so maybe he'd skip it altogether and...why on Earth was she thinking about that? Frustration bubbles up inside her as she berates herself for getting lost in her head again. None of that would happen because-...well, he wasn't even there anymore, wasn't leaning near the bar where he'd been staring at her.

See? He didn't care enough to act otherwise. His absence proves it.

So with the desperate need to distract herself, she smiles at Noah. "You're just full of good ideas, aren't you?" She says, standing to smooth the wrinkles in her dress. Noah joins her, a hand to the small of her back, leading her away from the bar (she's not thinking about how Simon's hands are bigger, warmer, and rougher-).

"She's busy." If the familiar gruff voice didn't stop her in her track, the hand circling her wrist definitely did.

"Excuse me?" Noah retorts, eyes narrowing. He has to look up to meet Simon's eyes, looking between him and the hand on her wrist. "And who are you?" He snips, and she's a little surprised at the sudden nasty tone of voice. So much so, she frowns at him and steps out of his hold, coincidentally closer to Simon.

"None of your business." Simon's anger is subtle, but there, like the growl of a dog before he bites, and she'd be lying if it didn't make her shiver.

"I do think it's my business. We were just leaving." Noah goes to grab her, but Simon tugs her into his side, putting himself between them.

"I'm going to tell you to get lost once. The consequences of whether you choose to listen or not are gonna be on you, mate." His accent is thicker when he's talking as low as he is, and Noah must have the sense to heed the threat lacing his words because he grits his jaw and walks out the doors alone, muttering curses under his breath as he leaves.

She's...well, she's stunned at the display of...whatever that was. His hand hasn't left her wrist. In fact, he doesn't speak to her, just pulls her along to a more secluded part of the bar, the hallway that leads to the restrooms. Music fades into the background and chatter recedes until it's just the two of them.

"What is it, Simon?" She sighs, yanking her hand free. "What was that about?"

"You were just gonna leave with him?" He asks incredulously. "Without knowing where the hell he was taking you or giving someone else a location to find you? Are you daft?" She bristles at the chiding.

"Are you fucking with me?" She blinks up with him. "I'm a grown ass woman, Simon. I can make my own calls."

"Doesn't mean they're good ones."

"What is your problem?!" She exclaims, and the months of dwelling frustration finally come pouring out. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not going to pretend that I'm not...that I don't like you because I've made it pretty damn clear that I do, and I think you know that too. You do nothing but watch, and I'm sick of it." She shoves his chest, huffing when he doesn't budge. Keeping her hands where they are, she balls them into fists. "How fucking dare you try and act all possessive now when you barely have the balls to choose between rejecting me and getting closer! How dare you try and get in the way when you-"

"Bloody hell, woman." He cuts in with a low growl, and he moves so suddenly she doesn't register him tugging his mask up to his nose and crashing his lips over hers. A strong arm circles her waist, walks her backwards until he back hits the walls and closes the gap between their bodies.

God, she's so glad she didn't go home with Noah.

It's intoxicating.

He's intoxicating.

He doesn't stop until she's breathless, until he's all consuming in her thoughts. When he pulls back, barely a centimetre, she can hear him whisper over the humming in her ears.

"That close enough for you, love?" He says lowly, his breath ghosting over her lips. "Think I got my stance on you across?"

She swallows, steadying her breathing, feeling herself flush. He's all muscle and power against her body, better than what she thought he'd feel like.

"I don't know." She hums. "You might have to show me again so I can be sure."

His small huff of amusement makes her smile giddily before he kisses her again, and all feel right in the world., the tightness in her chest settling down.

Who knew jealousy could lead to such a sweet end to the night?

"Steamin' Jesus!" A Scottish drawl breaks them apart, she clutches onto Simon like she's just been caught doing something bad. Soap whoops out a laugh and eyes the both of them victoriously at the both of them before striding back out of the hallway, calling out; "Gaz, ya' owe me ten bucks!"

"Fucking hell." She giggles when Simon's head drops to her shoulder.

Requests Are Open!

(20/06/2023)

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Lips anon! Girlll you got me blushing hot like a tomato. Got me curling my toes lol

The way you write possessive Miguel is 😩 😩 😩

Pfftt imagine the morning after, she can't get out of bed. Got Miguel taking care of the kids for a day and nonstop questions from Gabi about what's wrong with mommy lol

"I thought I heard her crying last night. She sounded hurt :("

Miguel chokes lol

🤭🤭 Kinda tempts me to write something like... Hate sex 👀👀 with a Villain! Reader jsksk.

And OMG 😂😂 I can already picture this lol

----------

At every turn you gave, your muscles screamed in protest. Laying on your back seemed the least of painful of positions to sleep. You didn't know what took over Miguel last night, not that you complained though, with everything happening you were lucky to shill manage in each other's pants without the kids interrupting.

He had woken up, smile on his face, relaxed. Contrary to you, sore, spent, a bird nest of a hair. He pulled you closer, hoarding you like a treasure. His strength was something that always amazed you. You hissed in discomfort, he kissed your cheek.

"Buenos días, chula." (Morning beautiful)

You grunted and rested your head on his solid yet warm chest. He chuckled and caressed your hair

"You feeling good?"

"I'm so not going out of bed."

"I'll get the kids. Worthed it? "

"Every bit of it." you smirked and rested on his chest for a little before the sounds of Benjamin's cries made him to slid off the bed and get dressed.

"I'll make it up to you ok? Just rest. " He kissed your forehead and let you recover.

Your hips ached, every bendable joint you had, popped as you stretched across the bed. Sleepiness taking over you, a goofy smile on your face. You'd gladly accept the consequences of teasing him too much again.

------

"Papa?" Gabi would sit on the dining table, eggs, refried beans, some sausages and tortillas were served on her plate.

"Hm?" He'd put Benjamin on his chair, a bottle of mashed pear puree on hand and a spoon on the other.

"Is Mama ok?"

"Is something wrong? He fed Benji a spoonful of his favorite puree as his tiny hand tried to take a hold of the spoon.

"Is she sick?"

"No, Solecito. She just wanted to sleep a bit more."

"Why was she crying last night?" Miguel blinked at her and Benjamin grabbed the spoon, splattering pear puree on his face with a bubbly squeal

"What-"

"She sounded hurt and you were angry" Heat would spread on his face as he wiped the food away

"Were you fighting again?" He shook his head, tingle of pink in his ears as he pried the spoon away from Benjamin.

"N-No, Solecito, we were... discussing a movie. You know how Mama cries with movies"

Gabi just nodded and indulged in her food. He saved you some for later, mentally slapping himself for the ridiculous excuse he just made up.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #wife reader #💋 anon #t writes✨#gabi o'hara #soccer family ⚽🕷️

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Note

bestie i can’t stop thinking about aemond being super into overstimming his partner i’m begging you to write smthn about it

You sent this in June, and I am so, so sorry! I hope you've hung in there and that this was worth the wait.

Warnings: Smut, overstimulation, slight dubcon, dacryphilia. Word count: ~800

Aemond rolls off of her, slipping out of her as his cock softens, his breathing heavy, utterly spent.

His wife is quick to snuggle against him, the light perspiration of her flesh mixing with his own, warming his side as her fingertips trail delicately over the planes of his chest as it rises and falls with rapidity.

He wraps an arm around her and already she is pressing herself against him like a feline in heat, her hips canting against his thigh as she looks up at him through hooded eyes.

Wanton little thing.

He hums lowly, stroking her hair away from her temple and regarding her with a smirk. "Has your husband not sated you, sweet wife?"

"Mmmm...he has," she says softly, "but I simply cannot get enough."

"You are insatiable," he murmurs, "I shall need a moment to recover though."

"I do not," she quips with a mischievous smile.

Aemond raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Women do not need to recover between peaks in the same way that men do. We can reach fulfilment multiple times without the need for rest," she tells him.

He considers this, eyeing her face carefully as he traces her jawline with his forefinger. "And how many times are you able to peak?"

She shrugs lightly. "I am unsure."

Aemond pulls away, sitting up on his haunches before dragging her towards him by her thighs.

She squeals in protest, clinging to the sheets. "What are you doing?" She asks, eyes wide.

"Finding out for myself," he says matter of factly, eye fixated on the slick of her cunny, pearlescent drops of his spend leaking from it.

He gathers it between his forefingers, spreading it through her folds, causing her hips to jerk as she whines. He circles her pearl, applying the slightest pressure and she shudders.

"It--it is too much," she whimpers, attempting to angle her hips away from him.

He brings his palm down sharply between her legs, creating a loud slap, and she yelps.

"You wished to boast about how many times you are able to peak," he says, his tone mocking. "I would hate to think that my pretty little wife is a liar, so allow me the courtesy of giving you the pleasure you were so desperate for."

Aemond's gaze darkens as he resumes his ministrations against her bud, watching her splayed out beneath him, eyes glossy and lips parted as she mewls piteously.

Her hips buck, her face contorting in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and he knows she has reached her end as she cries out, body shuddering as arousal leaks from her, wetting the sheet beneath them.

"That's two," he says impassively, moving his fingers away from her sensitive bundle of nerves when he notices how she twitches and spasms at his touch. "Let's try something different for your third."

"Aemond, please, I cannot take anymore," she pleads with him.

"But I am a dutiful husband, and I will not leave you wanting for anything," he slips two fingers inside of her, his breath catching as he feels the warmth and wetness of her body welcome his intrusion, gripping him tightly. "I feel how much you want me."

He crooks his fingers upwards, seeking out the spot inside of her that he usually aims to nudge against when he ruts into her, knowing it brings her pleasure.

He feels it; soft, spongy and yet slightly rougher feeling than the rest of her.

There it is.

He focuses all of his attention on that, pumping his fingertips against it, listening intently as the cadence of his wife's moans and cries of ecstasy grow louder and more intense.

Tears form along her lash line, before rapidly spilling over, rolling down her cheeks. He reaches out his free hand, wiping them away with his thumb before swiping it against her bottom lip, enjoying how utterly submissive she looks in this moment.

The very idea that he can hurt her, control her, all the while making her feel dizzying gratification causes his manhood to begin to stir again. He feels himself grow painfully hard as she clenches ceaselessly around his digits, on the verge of toppling over the edge and he speeds up his movements until he brings her to release again.

Her entire body is trembling as he withdraws his fingers, her voice hoarse. "Please," she whispers, "no more."

Aemond nods, a malicious smile tugging at his lips as he moves to hover over her.

"But it appears I am now recovered, little one, and it would be selfish of you to find release three times, but deny me a second. So, you will be good for me, and you will take it, won't you?"

He pushes back inside as he sees her nod weakly. "There's a good girl."

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

would love a flu season part 2 (with grumpy lessi and leah bc you recover but they both get sick)

flu season 2.0 II a.russo & l.williamson

"baby!" you looked up from your phone hearing a tired yell from the bedroom, dropping the device on the kitchen counter and hurrying over. "yeah lessi?" you smiled from the doorway, the blonde sniffling and pointing to the tv.

"can you get me the remote please?" she requested weakly, voice croaky and broken as you nodded, darting in to grab it from on top of the dresser. "here love." you smiled, smoothing her hair away from her sweat dampened forehead and placing the remote on her chest.

"watch something with me?" the girl asked, shuffling over a little and patting the gap. "babe!" before you could even give her an answer you heard another yell from the living room. "i'll come back, find something to watch." you bent down and kissed her forehead affectionately before racing out of the room.

"yeah lee?" you stopped in front of the lounge where your other girlfriend was sprawled out like a starfish, sending her a smile.

"can i have a cold cloth for my head please? i'm boiling." leah groaned, having stripped down to just a pair of shorts and a sports bra but you could still see her body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

with a nod you darted back to the kitchen, cracking open the freezer and grabbing out one of the frozen towels you'd stashed away earlier. "here baby." you knelt down on the carpet, gently placing the cold cloth on her forehead as she sighed in relief.

"baby!" you placed a kiss to leahs shoulder blade and shot to your feet, quickly returning to the bedroom. "yeah less?" you asked with an almost pained smile, hovering in the doorway. she didn't say another word, only lifting the covers again and patting the empty space beside her.

"okay." you sighed with a nod moving to lay down with her, sticking your legs out of the covers, immediately overwhelmed with her body heat as your girlfriend wrapped around you, head falling to your chest.

you rubbed circles into her back and tangled your other hand in her hair, feeling her body settle on top of yours as you tried to ignore the way you were very quickly starting to overheat, the taller girl basically a human hot water bottle.

"babe!" no sooner had you started to relax a little did you hear the cry from the living room. "sorry love." you mumbled, nudging for alessia to let go of you as she did so begrudgingly and you slipped out of bed, hurrying back out of the room.

with both of them falling sick right as you'd started to feel better you'd spent the last two days running around like a madwoman trying to cater to their every need, and it was starting to take its toll.

"yeah lee?" you forced a smile, shrugging off your hoodie still hot from cuddling with alessia, tossing it on the back of the lounge. "can you put the ac on?" the blonde grumbled, face hidden beneath the cold cloth covering her face as you strode over to the control panel.

"its on now baby." you leant down and squeezed her leg as she moved to lift the cloth. "come." she forced herself to sit up, patting the space behind her head. "aren't you hot?" you asked with a concerned gaze.

"yeah but i wanna put my head in your lap at least, i miss you." leah pouted, face still ghostly pale as you melted a little at the rare vulnerability from the stern captain, nodding and doing as she asked.

her head now laid in your lap you played gently with her hair at her request, your eyes slipping closed for just a moment, exhaustion beginning to catch up with you.

"baby!"

your head shot back up at the noise, shifting to move leah who grunted and pushed her head back onto your lap. "no, she's had you all day." the defender huffed grumpily, hands latching onto your shorts possessively. "lee, baby-"

"baby!"

"leah, my love i need to make sure she's okay." you sighed, kissing her forehead and gently prying her fingers off of you, moving to stand as her head thumped back to the lounge, ignoring her grumbles.

"yeah less?" you stepped back into the bedroom, ignoring the ache setting into your back and neck. "you left me." the striker frowned grumpily, opening her arms again as you sent her a tired smile, returning into bed with her.

you were laid down for all of two minutes before her stomach grumbled. "do you think you could keep something down baby?" you murmured quietly, thumb tracing her jaw as she nodded. "soup." she yawned, rolling off of you as you nodded and returned to your feet.

you sighed in relief as you darted past a fast asleep leah on the lounge, gently peeling off the now warm cloth from where she'd left it on the coffee table.

careful to keep as quiet as you could you rummaged around the kitchen, grabbing out a pre-made soup and starting to heat it up on the stove. you relished in the brief moment of peace and quiet, closing your eyes and resting your head on your fist.

"babe!" you jolted back awake, leahs head popping up over the lounge as you hurried over. "cloth." she ordered, flopping back down and covering her face with her hand as you obliged, darting back to the freezer.

"baby!"

"two seconds lessi!" you called back, placing the cloth over leahs sweltering forehead. "m'hungry." leah mumbled, eyes still closed. "i'll bring you something in a sec lee." you promised, turning on your heel and running to the bedroom.

"baby!" you arrived to the door right as she shouted again. "i'm here love. you alright?" you asked, slightly out of breath. "kiss." alessia demanded grumpily. you moved to peck her lips a couple times, ignoring her whines for a proper one.

"soup." she gave up and repeated her earlier word. "yes! sorry its coming baby." you promised, pecking her lips one last time and running back to the kitchen. "babe!" you halted in your tracks, spinning on foot.

"yeah lee?" your lips forced a smile. "come back." the captain ordered, patting the space behind her head. "two seconds love." you requested. "you've been spending more time with her than me." the blonde accused with a scowl.

"it would make things so much easier if you were both just together babe, then i wouldn't have to keep running back and forth and all of us could be together." you suggested, somewhat desperately.

"no! all less wants to do is cuddle and suffocate me, i'm dying." leah groaned in disagreement. "i heard that! asshole!" alessia croaked back, voice breaking from the bedroom. "stop yelling please less you'll lose your voice again." you remanded darting off to the kitchen, hissing as the soup had just started to boil over.

"baby!" "babe! "baby!" "babe!" "baby?" "babe?"

"oh fuck!" you swore, grabbing the soup pot with your bare hands to try and move it off the heat, racing to the tap and running the burn under cold water, wincing with each second that passed.

"baby?" "babe?" "baby!" "babe!"

you withheld the urge to scream, yanking your hand away and hastily drying it, your girlfriends refusing to cease their calling out for you as your head began to pound.

"two seconds!" you called back as you grabbed your phone off the counter, racing off to the bathroom and slamming the door shut, sitting down on the toilet lid and hitting dial.

"hi! i'm so sorry to bother you but the girls have both gone down with the flu and i really need some help."

knowing support was on its way gave you a sudden second wind, racing around to dish up the soup and giving alessia a bowl, promising to come back and give her a cuddle soon as she'd eaten.

leah had turned her nose up at the soup claiming it was too hot, so you'd thrown together a plain ham sandwich instead which she was taking cautious bites of, the silence of the two of them eating allowing you a brief moment to chug a few glasses of water.

then finally, the door bell went.

"whose that?" leah croaked out after she'd swallowed her sandwich, eyes narrowing as you purposefully refused to answer, knocks sounding now instead.

"whose at the door?" alessia shuffled out of the bedroom with a frown, a blanket wrapped tightly around her like a cocoon, empty bowl in hand.

"babe. who is there?" leah asked, more sternly now as you gave them both a guilty smile and the knocks increased.

"don't hate me. remember, i'm only doing this because i love you and i want you to get well as soon as possible." and with that you opened the front door, the two figures hurrying inside wasting no time fussing around and ordering about the two sick blondes.

"you called our mums!?"

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #woso blurbs #alessia russo #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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honeyed-hedonist · 8 days

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Pairings: Aged Up!Damian Wayne x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Summary: You're always just a phone call away for Damian, so he calls when he needs you. And tonight? He really fucking needs you. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, size kink if you squint, face slapping (once), oral (male & female receiving), orgasm control (kind of???), basically just 3k words of Dami tearing you apart in the best way. A/N: Hello again! Posting another old fic on mine. I still blame @heli0s-writes for sending me on a Damian Wayne spiral. I will never recover from this and it's all her fault. Enjoy :3

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It’s late. It’s always late when he calls you—3am and you’re answering the phone, the pitch of his voice deepened and gruff with need. A need that only you can satiate. “Come over, darling.” You’re out the door before you end the call, hailing a cab to the manor, pulse racing because you know what’s coming.

The path you walk when you reach the gate is so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed, feet carrying you to the front door. There’s no need to knock or ring the bell, the second your shoes hit the porch Damian swings it wide open, the cowl stripped off, blackened liner still smeared around those beautiful green eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to tear you apart, but you’ve always had an affinity for pretty, dangerous things.

A step closer and you catch the way the warm light of the entryway bounces off of the thin gold chain hanging around his neck. It sparkles, and your mind conjures up the image of it swinging above your face when you’re folded in half on his bed. It makes you clench, taking another step while your eyes make the slow trek downward, his bare chest and rippling stomach that cuts to narrow, defined hips has your mouth watering. You know what they feel like against your tongue, beneath your fingers.

There’s no need for words, his calloused hand closing around your wrist to tug you inside, the heavy door shutting with a definitive click that reverberates off the walls and arched ceilings of Wayne Manor. He’s already hard, you can feel it when his arm snakes its way around your waist to pull you even closer. And then he’s crouching down, sweeping his other hand behind your knees to lift you into his arms.

You’re trapped in the heat of his gaze, the salty, earthy smell of his skin--still damp with sweat from his night spent in triple-weave kevlar. Fingers dance up the back of his neck, tangling into that silky, black hair, and his chest vibrates with something akin to a growl. It sends your pulse rushing between your legs, desire warm and heavy in your belly as he walks you up the stairs towards the master suite.

The second you’re past the threshold, you reach for his face, wanting to feel his hot mouth on yours, but he doesn’t budge, the corner of his lips quirking in an amused smile at the whine that comes tumbling out of your throat when you try, and fail, to kiss him. “Patience, beloved.” Damian is gentle when he sets you down on the lush, thickly weaved rug that spreads out from beneath his bed, forefinger and thumb coming up to pinch your chin. His nose brushes yours when he speaks again, breath hot and sweet as it fans out across your face. “Be good.”

You watch with baited breath as he settles himself on the edge of the mattress, thighs spread open, palms flat against his knees, his posture perfectly straight. He looks like a king on his throne, and you’re prepared to bow at his feet. “You’re very overdressed, don’t you agree? Perhaps you should remedy that.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, your hands falling to the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging it hastily over your head. Your shorts are your next target, swiftly yanking them down your legs. Shoes, socks, and bra all join the pile of your discarded clothes after that, and Damian hums his approval. “Much better.”

Lifting one of his hands, he points to the space between his feet. “Come.” There’s no hesitation from you, moving immediately with a step forward, but then he scoffs, eyebrows drawn down in admonishment. “Really, pet? Is that how you’re meant to approach me? As my equal?” His words make you short circuit, brain muddled with the fog of submission, because you will always submit to him--it’s not even a question at this point. He’s in charge, he owns you, and he knows it.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you crawl towards him slowly, eyes trained on his face, trying to read him--but Damian has mastered the art of impassiveness. His calves brush against your shoulders as you wedge yourself between his legs, the only sign of his pleasure is the tent in the front of his joggers and the rumbling in his chest. It’s enough--has you salivating from your place on the floor, eagerly awaiting instruction.

He leans forward, strong hand circling your throat, fingers tightening until he can feel the ripple of your swallow. “Have you missed me?” He asks, but you know better than to open your mouth, choosing instead to nod your head. Damian hums thoughtfully, free hand stroking at his slightly stubbled chin. “Hmm, I’m not sure I’m convinced. Why don’t you show me?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, and he relents, releasing your throat to lean back on the bed, propped up with his arms extended so he can watch you--he’s always watching you--calculating, observing, learning. Damian Wayne knows all of the ways to take you apart, and all of the ways to put you back together again, but now he’s testing you, wants to see just how much you’ve learned since you began spending nights in his bed.

Shaking fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his thighs until the heavy weight of his cock springs free, slapping against the hard plane of his stomach with a dense thud. You moan, how can you not? He’s impressively large, perfectly curved towards his bellybutton, nestled in coarse, dark hair, thick and throbbing just for you. His head is shining with pre, glistening in the orange glow from the roaring fire in the hearth nearby. Your eyes meet, faux innocence batting up at him from beneath your lashes. But Damian knows better, knows how filthy you are, and he’s losing his patience.

You let your hand circle the base, tongue dragging a hot, wet line beneath his length until your lips close around the tip, precum tangy against your tastebuds. You moan again, eyes rolling back. The musk of his night perusing the city is still fresh on his skin, and he always tastes so god damn good like this. Dirty. Natural. It spurs you onward, his tip popping into the back of your throat as you take him all the way down. He reaches out after that, fingers gentle against the skin of your neck, his cock seated so fully inside the wet heat of your mouth that he can feel himself beneath your esophagus when you swallow. It makes him grunt, satisfied with your efforts.

It’s all the encouragement you need to move again, cheeks hollowed as you suck him off. The only sounds in the room are your labored breaths and the nasty, wet squelch of your mouth on his cock. Damian’s eyes are blown black, watching you like a predator tracking its prey, hand shooting out to curl into the hair at the crown of your head and shove you down until your nose is pressing against his taut abdomen. He holds you there, testing your limits, keeping you still, voice strained with his pleasure when he speaks. “Swallow.” He commands, and you oblige, whimpering while your thighs shift in an attempt to alleviate the ache in your cunt.

“What’s wrong, pet? Do you want to cum?” Damian smirks at the desperate look in your eyes before he answers his own question. “Too bad.” He mocks your arousal, knowing all you really want right now is for him to fuck a hole right through you, but he needed to feel your warm, wet mouth first. And Damian will never apologize for having his needs met, because he always reciprocates in kind. Especially with you.

He volleys with you back and forth, letting you have control before ultimately usurping you to fuck your face. When he’s satisfied, your cheeks are hot, the remnants of the mascara that you carelessly forgot to wash off is smeared down your face, and your chin is covered in your own spit as he yanks you free from his cock by your hair. “Tch--look at you, such a mess.” Damian’s free hand breaks the string of spittle connecting your mouth to the tip of his dick and smears it across your face. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be, moaning open-mouthed when his palm cracks across your cheek. “Get up.”

Your actions are instantaneous, done without pause or thought, rising to your feet with his hand still fisted in your hair. He stands, too, spinning you both around until your calves hit the mattress and he shoves you backwards. You fall gracelessly onto his comforter, and he gives you no reprieve, no chance to catch your breath before he’s peeling your thighs apart to inspect your slit. Your panties are an encumbrance, one that has him growling as his long, dextrous fingers tear the fabric clean off, ripping them away to toss on the floor.

He wastes no time, hands framing your pussy to peel your lips apart, leaning forward, he takes a deep inhale, the tip of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt, body bowing off of the bed, but his eyes cut to yours and you still immediately, knowing that he’ll stop if you don’t behave. “You have the most beautiful cunt, and she’s all mine.” Damian hums, mostly to himself, pink tongue slipping out of his mouth to circle your clit slowly. Your hands fist his expensive bedding, knuckles bone-white as he begins to work you over with his mouth.

He’s an expert at many things--knows over a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands--and can get you to gush against his mouth in a matter of minutes. Damian plays your body like a fine-tuned instrument, hits all the right notes to make you see stars. He curls those long, rough fingers of his against the velvet walls of your pussy, free hand applying pressure at your belly, while his plump lips suction against your pulsing clit. Barely two minutes in and you’re already hurtling towards bliss, whining and whimpering and writhing--all for him.

“Dami, please!” You want your release. Want to cum all over his handsome face. He can feel it in the way your cunt grips his fingers, fluttering in time with the expert swipes of his tongue. He knows it’s only a few more licks until you’re careening into your orgasm. His eyes meet yours between the valley of your breasts, glittering with mirth as you cry out, begging shamelessly for him to let you cum. And then, like the menace he is, Damian releases your clit with a wet pop, effectively slamming you into a brick wall, your orgasm slipping right through your fingers with a pained cry.

Tears of desperation brim in your eyes and he tuts, rising to his feet, forearm wiping your glistening arousal from his lips and chin. “Do you have no shame? Begging like a common whore.” He’s on you in a flash, joggers discarded, fully naked as his hand once again finds your throat and he snarls above you. “Your orgasms belong to me, beloved. I decide when you deserve to cum, and tonight, you’ll be coming all over my cock. Do I make myself clear?”

He expects an answer, but you’re transfixed, completely mystified by his overpowering, eclipsing presence above you. Damian makes you feel small. It fogs your brain, makes it hard to do anything other than mewl, thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settles above you. “Tch--useless little thing. All you’re good for is being my tight hole to fuck, isn’t that right, pet?” You nod, helpless and desperate beneath him, every nerve ending in your body thrumming like live wires. It’s a fact that he captializes on, slapping the mushroomed tip of his dick against your drenched slit, the wet sound that reaches his ears making him moan.

There isn’t a sound on Earth prettier than hearing Damian Wayne moan for you, your mouth falling open as you gaze up at him in awe. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to sluice the middle fingers of his left hand over your tongue. Ever the obedient pet, your lips close automatically, suckling as those same fingers push so far back they make you choke. Through your bleary eyes, you can see the sadistic smile that graces Damian’s face. It’s dangerous, and it sends a fresh rush of arousal leaking from your cunt.

It’s almost like he can smell it, and he probably can, his irises disappearing until all that’s left are the whites of his eyes as he inhales deeply. There’s no warning, no preparation, just his gaze rolling back to meet yours when he snaps his hips forward with perfect aim, his cock stretching you open and filling you in a way only he can. It makes you scream, your back beginning to arch, but Damian is right there, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grip your throat and pin you back down against the mattress.

His pace is unforgiving. It’s brutal and deep, carving his way into your body with harsh thrusts that have the headboard knocking flecks of plaster off the walls until they cascade down like rain onto the comforter. “You. Belong. To me.” He spits it through gritted teeth, and it’s not something you’ll ever deny. Your relationship may be unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it. Any time spent with Dami, to you, is a gift, especially if it means he’ll fuck you absolutely boneless in order to reassert his control on those nights when he feels like the world around him is spiraling.

You take it all--every thrust, the gnashing of his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the suffocating grip around your throat, the drizzle of spit that falls onto your waiting tongue when he pries your jaw open. Anything Damian dishes out, you take without complaint, because while he craves control, you crave subjugation--the metaphorical yin to his yang.

Your voice is hoarse when you try to speak, breath stuttering with every powerful roll of Damian’s hips, barely heard over the lewd sounds of being fucked open. Each strike of his cock inside of you hits that spongy mound of tissue, dragging his silky, hot length against it with each withdrawal. It has you climbing right back towards your inevitable peek, the only question is-- will he let you finish this time?

“Dami--m’gonna--please, m’so close, baby.” You wheeze, and he smiles, teeth blindingly white even though the haze of your oxygen deprivation. You find some reprieve from the deliciously pleasurable pain when he finally peels his fingers back from your throat, hands sliding to your shins to fold them up and into your chest. His pace never lessens, he never slips out, following the bending of your body, the new angle allowing an even deeper stroke inside your gummy walls. It has you keening, hands clawing at his chest, his gold chain bouncing against the backs of your palms.

“Very well, I think you’ve earned it.” Reaching between your bent legs, Damian’s thumb slices through the lips of your cunt that are spread wide around his cock to seek out your clit. He’s precise, circling the aching bud in a way that makes you choke, throat vibrating with a squeal. You’re close again, rapidly approaching your release, so fast you can barely keep up, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable tightness. This time, when you meet his eyes, the malice is gone, replaced with what you can only describe as devotion. “Go on, make a mess on my cock, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, his permission coupled with the expert swirl of his thumb and the perfect drag of his cock have you seeing stars, bursting with a cry of his name. You scream, back arching up, chest to chest with him as he cradles you close. “I know, beloved, I know. Let it all out.” He coos, still thrusting wildly through the resistance as your pussy tries to shove him out with each fluttering pulse. Damian can feel your cum weeping out around him, it wets his thighs, dribbles down the seam of his sack, drips down onto the mattress. It makes him groan, balls tightening as he reaches the point where he can no longer stave off his own release.

With a low moan of your name he pumps into you once, twice--the third sending the first spray of his cum deep in your womb. You can feel the pulse of his length as he bottoms out with a grunt, forehead pressing against yours, breath hot against your mouth. Jet after jet of semen coats your insides, filling you up so full it almost hurts. You whimper out, and Damian shushes you, cupping your face to plant a soft kiss against your lips. “Shh,” he murmurs. “You did so well for me, my darling. Such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

All you can manage is a hum, Damian’s fingers carding through your sweat-slicked hair as he peppers soft kisses over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead. This has got to be your favorite part, because while he knows how to completely wreck you, he’s also right there to pick up the pieces and stitch you right back together again.

He carries you into the bathroom, runs a bath for the both of you, coddles and keeps you close until the pair of you are falling into his freshly stripped bed beneath the sheets. His arm is slung snugly around your waist, his lips on the back of your neck as you settle in preparation of sleep. “I’d like you to move your things into the manor.” His voice is soft, there’s a hesitation there that is so uncharacteristic it nearly shocks you back from exhaustion. But again, all you’re able to offer him is a hum of acknowledgement, wiggling further into the warmth of his body, heavy eyelids closing as your consciousness wanes and you drift.

You’ll tackle this moving in business when you’ve got a clear head and a full belly, but the prospect of taking the next step in your relationship with Damian brings you the most pleasant, peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #robin x reader #robin x you #batfam #batfamily #damian wayne smut #robin smut #smut writing

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sebsbarnes · 3 months

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phantom pain || pietro maximoff

pietro maximoff x reader

summary: i'm jealous of the rain that falls upon your skin, it's closer than my hands have been

warnings: insecurities, none really?? (i think)

word count: 2.9k+ ; angst, comfort

masterlist

a/n: this is a rewrite of a bucky fic i wrote 6 years ago but now much longer, better, and for pietro. sorry for grammar/editing mistakes that are prob here but still enjoy

pietro knew you had been hiding something. he had known you for three years and had been dating you for almost two. over the course of the months and weeks spent with the other he had grown accustomed to your silent cues. the silence that would consume you when tony's party carried on too late and you desperately wished to exit or when you performed poorly during training and steve berated you with tips. but mostly the silence that would linger around you when you were alone. not all the time, no, but there were times when pietro could feel and see the physical shift in your body language.

he never wanted to pry not as a friend or a boyfriend. pietro understood that every avenger has a past life, one that the others are unaware of. though he loved playing back the memories of his childhood and his parents, he too would shift into a silent shell of a person and he would want nothing more than to be left alone and not questioned. pietro loved the abilities he had but some days he wondered whether the extreme heat of his body or the slow-moving world around him actually made him sad. life was no longer normal, his body was no longer normal, nothing was normal.

this is exactly how you felt. the tragedies in your life were sometimes unbearable and if you could disappear you would but you had so much to be thankful for. if it wasn't for the accident you wouldn't be an avenger, you wouldn't have the friends you have, you wouldn't experience even half of what you've had now, and you wouldn't have pietro, the love of your life. at the end of the day you were alive and more than often, incredibly happy.

but there were those times you fell into silence over your newfound life, mainly the consequences of the accident. your memory still struggled, you were weak for a very long time, and when the weather got too cold you could feel the ache in your bones. you weren't like the rest of the avengers who possessed special abilities or were highly skilled in combat. three and a half years ago you were a normal person. you had a normal life, job, family, and friends, up until the accident. and every day the phantom pain reminds you of what was taken.

it was winter when you first met all the avengers. they all lived together and after you recovered from the accident, tony wanted you here, to live here. you protested the idea for a while claiming that tony's generosity was far too much. he had already saved you from the accident and offering a space to live and a job was incredulous, but after much debate you agreed. that first day you silently sat in the corner of the room while all the avengers had a meeting. you swayed back and forth in the rolling chair, taking in the information and occasionally stealing glances at a silver-haired man.

"and this is (y/n)!," tony exclaimed, "our newest friend here so please for the love of god be kind during the acclamation period. i'm already prematurely greying and i don't need anymore."

the meeting was over and one by one the avengers came to greet you, offering their names and welcomes and soon the silver-haired man approached you.

pietro stuck his hand out to shake yours. he found it odd that despite the room being almost swelteringly hot from the heater, you still had your gloves on.

"i'm pietro."

it was about three weeks later you found yourself sitting with pietro, clint, steve, and natasha. everyone was sitting on the couch talking about whatever topic you possibly could conjure up. there was a lull in conversation before clint spoke up.

"hey," he said turning towards you, "why do you have gloves on?"

it was as if clint never spoke and without missing a beat you stood up, looking down at pietro, "wanna help me finish building my desk?"

pietro hesitated a moment, eyes flickering over to clint, "of course."

pietro had come to learn not to question why you covered your hands in those first few months. any mention of you hiding them was never met with an answer. he was protective of you and he felt himself falling for you each day, and you the same. the two of you did a lot together, you cooked, clean, went out, watched movies, almost everything together and you loved it. it felt like home here and pietro felt like home.

it was a big dinner, the night you finally took your gloves off. there was no special reason why, to be frank, you just decided to no longer be embarrassed.

"c'mon kid we all got something weird about us. i play in a suit all day, cap runs around in tights, pietro is faster than the speed of light, and parker shoots webs... from his hands!" tony ranted on.

you sighed, "i know. i just feel weird on top of this because i am still new here."

"we all have been new," tony started, inspecting your hands one final time, "no one will judge you, kid, but take it at your own pace. you don't owe anyone nothing. well, maybe except me," he winked.

only two hours later you were all seated at the big table with everyone to eat. from tony, to pietro, to thor, to natasha, to sam, everyone was here. next to you was tony and rhodey, pietro across from you pulling funny faces while the food was served out. you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap trying to stall picking up the fork and knife. everyone had started eating and chatting amongst the group when you finally lifted your arms to the table and started cutting into the chicken.

pietro watched as you shifted in your seat, your forearms coming to rest on the white cloth and your fingers wrapping around the fork and knife. the first time he has ever seen your hands.

your metal hands.

after that night there were murmurs throughout the crew about the state of your hands. people were confused why someone who led a normal life ended up with metal hands, similar to bucky's arm. the word accident had floated through the air but you never commented on it.

winter had turned into spring that ended all too quickly and now it was the dead of summer. the day was slow and pietro was bored and craving movement. his head was hanging over the arm of the couch, his silver hair hung to the floor.

"want to get ice cream?" he asked.

"it's like you read my mind," you grinned swiping your wallet off the counter.

you and pietro wandered around town aimlessly before stopping at the ice cream shop. he admired the way you threw your head back in laughter and the way you covered your mouth when he said something outlandish. even though pietro's body ran warm he could feel the increasing heat spread throughout his cheeks each time you shot him a smile and his name rolled off your lips.

in an instant, he thought he ruined it all when he reached out and wrapped his fingers in yours. he felt your fingers twitching and the way you misstepped.

"i'm sorry," accent thick as he retracted his hand.

you smiled softly at him before gently grabbing his hand, "don't be."

it was that day over a hot fudge sundae that you told pietro what had happened. it was a horrible car accident early in the winter before you met the avengers. there were several cars and buses involved. not only did you lose your hands that day but your family. tony was also in this accident, his car had actually collided with yours, though his vehicle wasn't the one that caused your injuries. he had rushed to help you and immediately took on a parental role when he observed the condition of everyone else in the car. you were bruised and bloody with several fractured bones, but mainly, every bone in both your hands were shattered beyond repair. tony took you to his doctors where you all came to the difficult decision that your hands had to go, but tony offered you a solution. to replace the once skin and bones with metal.

pietro listened the entire time letting you go on and on to which you apologized for being boring. 'no dragă' he would whisper and you continued on with his thumb running over your knuckles. the gesture comforted you but the voice in the back of your head nagged that it was out of pity.

the months began to fly past faster than you could imagine. you and pietro were inseparable. anytime the members walked past the two of you they'd fake gag or pretend to cry. once wanda had muttered under her breath how she never thought pietro would actually date someone. you would only get shy over it and pietro found it amusing and would pinch at your cheeks. it was only when the two of you officially started dating when pietro would notice the different type of silence you'd fall into.

he would sometimes catch you sitting on the edge of your bed staring at your hands the features on your face contorted with disgust.

"what is the matter?" he questioned.

"oh nothing," you sighed with a fake smile, placing your hands beside you.

or the times pietro noticed the way you hesitated before touching him.

"am i that scary dragă?" pietro joked with a sickly smile.

your features would soften and the lines between your brows disappeared, "the most terrifying," you winked.

or the times pietro saw the way you gazed at other people's hands when they came into contact with pietro.

"doesn't his hair look good like this?" wanda asked you as she finished braiding her brother's hair. the two of them looking at you in the mirror.

you didn't respond right away. you were too distracted watching the way her fingers weaved their way through his silver hair and grazed his scalp while pulling hair into its pattern. with the most pitiful smile, you responded.

"amazing."

pietro knew that eventually, you would confide in him over the way you viewed your hands. he didn't want to overstep, that wasn't the relationship the two of you had. the late nights pietro spent shaking under the blankets from nightmares, you never asked him. you held him close to you and hummed a small tune to calm him down and you did that every night without fail. one day over breakfast he finally confided in you over the terrors that haunted his dreams.

what pietro didn't expect was that today on your second anniversary was the day you would finally scream your frustrations out. the two of you weren't doing anything special and nor did you want to. all the avengers insisted you at least leave home and do something for a little while. that's why you found yourselves lazily walking around a park, hand-in-hand, arms swinging and shoulders bumping. the sound of laughter echoed through the park and you swore the leaves shook. you were happy, beyond happy. pietro and you were madly in love and there wasn't one thing you could wish for, maybe.

suddenly the wind picked up and the dark clouds rolled above and unleashed raindrops that were nearly the size of baseballs.

"oh my god!" you squealed.

"it is so cold!" pietro laughed loudly.

you were squinting through the pouring rain, your hair and clothes plastered to your skin, pietro was dancing around in a circle with his tongue out in hopes of catching the water. pietro grabbed onto your forearms pulling you into him.

"you look so cute right now," he yelled over the thunderous rain.

"don't be silly! i look like a mess!" you giggled slightly swatting at his chest.

pietro leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. his smile growing wider as if his mouth was a plant and the rain was helping it grow. his fingers brushed the hair out of your face and kissed you once more on the forehead.

"there's so many droplets on your lashes!" you exclaimed. pietro watched your lips pull into a smile. the sun wasn't out but he could've been fooled by the way your eyes shined at him. he watched as you lifted your hand to brush the droplets off, and then suddenly, it all changed.

pietro watched as your smile dropped into parted lips of disgust and shame, your eyebrows pulled together in the middle, and rain was no longer the only thing running down your face. you faltered in your step backward and pietro reached out to steady you but you pulled back further. it was like you were a toy and your batteries had just run out you were so still.

"b-baby what is wrong?" the worried etched onto his face was almost painful.

"i'm jealous," you cried, your bottom lip shaking violently.

pietro shook his head, "my love what is going on? you are worrying me."

you lifted your hands in front of your face, your eyes trailed down every finger and across your palm to the back of your hand. the small metal panels almost mocking you as you could see your eyes reflect back at you. at this moment pietro started to piece together all the instances in the past.

"i can't feel you," you wallowed, "i can't feel your skin, pietro. my hands!" he watched as you stretched your arms out to show him your hands as if he'd never seen them before.

"i'm envious of everything that can feel you! the rain, your clothes, everyone else, but not me, i can't! do you know how badly i want to feel the texture of your hair or the tears you cry or-or the skin on your lips and i can't! i crave the feeling of you and i'll never get to know that. i want to feel the plastic of a pen or grass between my fingers or the calluses of training too hard and i'll never get that again. the phantom pain i have will never be as painful as never being able to hold you with my real hands."

as your cries grew louder the storm cleared up to let you have the stage. you stood in front of pietro as the shell of the person he would see those times you were alone silently observing your hands. even though he wasn't the one yelling, he felt as if his own vocal chords were being shredded, he could feel the chambers in his heart slowly start to shut down one by one, and the burn in his eyes was almost blinding.

he slowly stepped towards you cautious not to make you jerk backwards again. the tears in each of your eyes seemed to sync up and roll down together. pietro gently grabbed your hand, grateful that you let him, and held it to his cheek.

"this, my love, this is me. this is the me that only you will know and no one else. it is not the same as everyone else but different much like us," he said gently, his other hand gesturing between your bodies, "if i could do anything in the world, no matter the cost, to help with your hands i would and i am so sorry i cannot," pietro was now holding your face in his hands.

"but i want you to know i love you for everything that you are and i always will. no matter what the future has in store for us, in my heart, you will always be first. and- and i know there are other reasons why you dislike your hands but i never want to be the reason that you dislike something about yourself. maybe i can talk to mr. stark, yeah?" he pondered nodding his head rapidly, "maybe we can figure something out and give your hands an upgrade. maybe he knows someone?"

you sniffled, looking lovingly at pietro who was trying to think of any possibility even though you both had discussed in the past that there was nothing that could be done for your hands. that day tony saved you was the best opportunity you could get to help your hands and nothing in the world could beat it.

"i love you so much pietro, you are everything i could ask for in a boyfriend and more," you spoke, resting your face further into his hands.

pietro ran his hands across your shoulders and down your arms to hold onto your wrists. he brought your hand up to his face and placed a delicate kiss to your fingertips until all ten were loved. pietro pulled you into a hug, one palm resting flat against your spine and the other holding the back of your head. you leaned into his chest and let your ear listen to the thump of his heart. the two of you stood there motionless. minutes passed by and neither of you dared to move. to an unobservant eye, you two could've passed as a statue. two lovers forever memorialized in the dusk of the sky, the rain puddles collecting at your feet, and a love story forever admired over.

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allocnddits · 8 months

Text

GIRLS ON FILM e.m.

summary: Eddie can’t take two seconds of you sitting on his lap.

warnings: penetrative sex, blowjob, teasing, low key overstimulation, switch!eddie

wc: 1.2k

It wasn’t often that you accompanied Eddie to his band’s rehearsals, but you had spent the weekend away and he couldn’t skip on this one since they were doing a new set. So on monday, right after school, you went to his friends garage to watch him.

As they finished a song you got up from the puff chair you were on and grabbed a diet coke from the mini fridge and when you turned back Eddie had taken your spot. Naturally, you walked over and took a seat on his lap.

At first, you really didn’t realize what was happening, it just seamed so natural and normal to you, but when you caught him whipping his sweaty palm on his jeans, you knew what you had done to him.

“Are you…?” you whispered in his ear, playing it off by running your hand through his hair. He just nodded discreetly, still talking to his friends. You pulled his wrist, pretending to check the time on his watch. “Teddy” he hummed, looking up at you “need to go, drive me, please?” you asked as you got up from his lap, quickly tidying up your uniform and he followed right after, hearing his friends joke about how you turn him into a complete puppy. Eddie picked up an empty coke can from the floor and threw it at them.

“It’s six, your curfew is only at eight.” he remarked as you stepped into his van.

“Well, my parents aren’t home and,” you said, checking your lipstick on the mirror “i thought i could help you with that.” you pointed at his semi erection.

Eddie quickly made an abrupt U turn – earning a scolding glare from you – and drove to your house, both of you immediately going to your room on the second floor.

"You are so damn sensitive! i sat on your lap for like two minutes and you got hard, what the fuck?" you laughed.

"You've been away all weekend, i missed you" he explained, throwing his body on the bed.

"What are you waiting for then?" he quickly sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled you closer by the waist till you stood between his spread legs as he looked up at you. His hands travelled up your thighs till your skirt was riding up, doing nothing but caressing the skin, itching closer and closer to your heat but never getting there. "Don't tease"

"Or what?" he dared, looking back up at you with his doe brown eyes

"Or i'll have fun by myself and make you watch, and i think you're touch starved enough, aren't you, Teddy?"

He nodded and pulled you closer to straddle his lap. "Okay, I'll stop teasing, but only if you do what you promised"

"I surely will" you kissed his neck slowly, licking a stripe up behind his ear and pretended not to notice how he shivered when you did it. "You want the shirt off, baby?" you asked getting down on your knees between his legs. Of course you already knew the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

"Please?" You pulled your shirt off, revealing your white, lacy bra. “So pretty, baby”

You smiled up at him before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his – now completely hard – shaft out of his boxers. His tip was bright red, aching for your touch as you teased him by running your nails on his base, making him roll his eyes. You darted your tongue out, tapping his tip against it and tasting his pre cum before taking him into your mouth. You made sure to cover him in your spit, letting it drip down the sides of your mouth till it coated his entire length. Your mouth started to slide down on him, taking him inch by inch till your nose hit his groin and you pulled away immediately.

“Too big for you, honey?” he teased, making you roll your eyes, tears rolling down your face as you did. You let your hand work on him as you recovered from the previous move, teasing his tip by running your palm against it or pressing down on his slit. He threw his head back, letting his hands meet your hair when your mouth returned to his shaft. He started letting groans out, making you smile around him as he pushed your head down and he fell back onto the bed. “Fuck. Baby, please”

“No, love” you whispered against his tip after pulling out. “don’t come just yet, want your cum inside me, yeah?” You pushed his shirt up his chest, kissing his lower stomach as you pumped him fast in your hand. You only stopped when you felt his thighs clench, knowing he was about to cum and you pulled away, abruptly.

“Aren’t you just a little bitch.” he complained after a long and frustrated groan, you just smiled, watching as he sat up on the bed. “Come here”

“I’m sorry, baby, but i just love to see you get desperate. I’ll make it up to you, ��kay?” you straddled his lap, taking off his shirt and brushing his hair off his face. “so beautiful” you praised as your lips met his neck, kissing and nibbling softly on the pale skin. You dipped your hand between your bodies, pushing your underwear to the side before aligning yourself to him. He could feel your cunt swallow him, little by little as you kissed his neck. You pushed his torso onto the bed, making him lay down and folded your body over his to reach for a pillow, placing it under his head.

As you started to bounce on him, Eddie could not believe the view in front of him, you had your hands on his chest, your tits bounced along with you in your lacy bra and your cheer skirt hugged your waist so perfectly. He managed to get his shit together to reach for the polaroid you got for Christmas and snap a picture of you, and look at it once it was printed. The picture was blurry, since he caught you in movement, and dark, since the only source of light in your room was of the setting sun through your glass windows. Once the camera was off his hands, he pulled you down, arms hugging you tightly around your waist as your hips went completely wild, circling and bouncing on his cock.

“Fuck, baby, so close” he moaned in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his body tremble and clench beneath yours as he tried hard to hold it in – he wanted you to cum with him.

“Edward, let it go, come inside me” you encouraged, wanting to see him completely fall apart for you. And he did. As soon as you finished the sentence he came, spurting inside you and filling you up. His grip on you loosened as he lost his strength to his orgasm, so you sat back up and started grinding down on him, his lower stomach catching you clit. The both of you were a complete mess, Eddie completely overwhelmed by your movements on his spent cock and you desperately needing to reach your high as his seed dripped down from your cunt onto your bodies. When you did cum, your moans mixed up with your boyfriends whines as you clenched around his softening cock.

“Fuck, baby, off, off, off” he lifted your hips, pulling his overstimulated cock out. You giggled, still stuck in the bliss of your orgasm.

“Sorry, honey, won’t do it next time”

#eddie munson #bimbo!reader x eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #a writes #eddie munson imagine

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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

Hey luv!! Saw your requests open and was curious if could do modern au w poly!marauders and nonbinary!reader who wants and gets top surgery. If not thats okay, just ignore!! 💋

Hi! As always with these, I have limited knowledge so please lmk if there's any inaccuracies or insensitivities! I'd be happy to fix them :) And thank you for requesting sweetheart <33

cw: reader is recovering from major surgery, vaguely suggestive (but barely)

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 864 words

James hops over the back of the couch as soon as you and Remus get in the door, instantly assailing you with tenderness.

“How’d the appointment go?” he asks, providing a hand you don’t really need to go sit down on the couch.

“Good,” you say honestly. You can hear Sirius coming down the stairs a second before he appears, giving you a quick up-down to assess your state before grinning at you.

“Feeling good?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you reiterate, “it went well.”

Remus chuckles, passing a sympathetic hand over your head as he rounds the couch to sag into the armchair. Your boyfriends are infinitely sweet in their attentions, but they’ve been treating your first post-op appointment like it’s Christmas.

“So, is it off?” Sirius asks eagerly.

You smile, nodding. “The vest is off, but I’ve still got the bandages until probably next week.”

James’ knee immediately sets to bouncing as he takes a seat beside you. “Can we see?”

“I’ve already seen,” Remus says smugly.

James’ excitement fizzes in the air around you, and Sirius stalks toward you with purpose. A familiar tingle of apprehension skips over your skin as he leaps upon you, planting a knee on either side of your hips to keep from actually putting any of his weight on your lap. The couch springs groan in protest. Remus echoes them.

“If you break our furniture, you’re buying the new stuff,” he warns.

Sirius ignores him, fingering the button at the collar of your shirt. “May I?”

“Only if you quit flirting with me,” you say.

“Christ,” James’ head lolls back on the couch cushion, “with those terms, we’ll never get to see.”

But Sirius is already undoing your top, slender figures making quick work of the buttons before he’s opening it up. You let the sleeves fall down your shoulders, unable to tamp down your own smile at the sight of your torso.

“Fuck, baby,” Sirius breathes, running his thumb along the skin just underneath the bandages. Even though he’d seen your chest back at the doctor’s office, Remus leans forward in his chair to peek around James. “You look so good.”

“I said no flirting,” you try to joke, but his eyes are earnest when they meet yours.

“I mean it,” he says.

Your face heats, a pleasant warmth blooming behind the bandages.

“You really do,” James agrees. He’s looking from your chest to your face like he’s matching them up in his head. “You’re so perfect like this, angel.”

You smile at him. “You’ve always said that, Jamie.”

“I have,” he admits. “I mean, you’ve always been perfect, but you’re so you now, it’s like…” His smile unfurls, beatific, and your face scrunches up in apprehension a second before his smacking kiss lands on your cheek. “You’re perfecter than perfect.”

“Cheesy,” you diagnose, the warmth of your skin increasing. “But thank you, sweetheart.”

“Mm, you don’t look like you think it’s cheesy,” Sirius says, cupping the back of your neck and grinning at the heat he finds there. “You look quite pleased, actually.”

“I can be both,” you counter.

“I like seeing you this pleased.” James presses another, gentler, kiss to your temple. “You’ve seemed so happy since the surgery. I feel like I didn’t realize what we were missing out on before.”

You tilt your head back against the cushions, looking at him. “Have I really?” You’ve certainly felt happier, but most of the time since your surgery has been spent in bed, alternately asking your boyfriends for help and complaining about how much help you need.

James looks surprised you’d even ask, and Remus says, “Of course, dove. You carry yourself so differently, you thought we wouldn’t notice?”

You feel your lips quirk, imagining yourself hobbling around during the walks James had forced you to go on because the doctor recommended it. “You mean like an elderly person?”

“He means like a sure person,” Sirius says, and his gaze could melt you to the bone as it rakes from your chest up to your face. “You seem more at home in yourself.” He grins crookedly. “It’s hot.”

“Easy.” James gives Sirius’ shoulder a little nudge. “They’re still not cleared for any of your depravities.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Sirius murmurs, bending to smear a kiss over the corner of your mouth. “Also, they haven’t said that yet. What did they say during your appointment, baby?”

“I doubt that would fall under the list of sanctioned activities.” You’re unable to keep the tinge of giddiness from your voice, and your dastardly boyfriend grins at hearing it. “I’m still not allowed to do much. I thought I’d be able to shower this week, but no.”

Sirius lights up at the last bit, and you narrow your eyes. Remus groans.

“What?” you ask.

“Now you’ve done it,” Remus says, managing to sound completely exasperated despite the humor in his eyes.

“What?” you repeat, alarm increasing as Sirius’ grin spreads.

James pats your shoulder consolingly, seeming to have also caught onto whatever’s made your boyfriend so happy.

“I’ve found the perfect solution to our problem, sweetpea,” Sirius says, tone already wheedling. “I’ll just give you sponge baths.”

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honey-on-your-tongue · 9 months

Note

BITCH imma need a Jake sully x f!reader, where he calls us baby girl oh my god i would actually go feral.

I SWEAR every time Jake Sully says babygirl it just makes me 😩😩😩😩😩

Also, I'm making this human!reader because I just need to fulfill my size kink 🤭🤭

Not proofread soooo as usual, squint if you see mistakes 😙

-----

Jake has an array of nicknames for you. Little pet names that make you blush and smile, bashful. All of them elicit pretty much the same reaction. Except for one.

Jake had accidentally called you babygirl without even realizing it. But the moment you hear it from his lips, you blush and your eyes darken ever-so-slightly. A warmth spreads between your thighs, spreading over your skin, flooding your womb.

You'd stuttered out a reply, nervous and flustered, and then he'd smelled it.

Your soft, sweet arousal. He was used to smelling it occasionally when his hands grazed your skin, or maybe he'd smell it on your hands, making it obvious you'd been touching yourself. But he'd never been able to get that reaction from you with words.

He cocked his head sideways. “You okay?”

That had only flustered you more and you ran off not long after, mumbling something about being late to some place or another.

At night, Jake had stayed up,wondering what it was he'd said that had you so turned on.

It must be long past midnight when he realizes it. And the very next morning, he's waiting for you in the cafeteria as you make your way to breakfast.

When you see Jake there, your cheeks instantly heat. Unconsciously, you wipe your hands on your shirt, sort of trying to dry away the sweat and also hoping the scent of your pussy isn't still imbedded in your skin.

You figure it must be, especially since you've been touching yourself almost nightly since you met Jake.

“Good mornin',” he greets, a sly smile on his lips.

You smile back. “Hi, Jake.” You sit at one of the tables. He sits on the floor beside your chair and he's still taller than you.

“How'd my babygirl sleep?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair off your face.

You shudder slightly. The way he says it has your body warming, especially since you'd spent all night replaying the memory of his voice as you desperately thrusted your fingers in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Um.” You clear your throat. “Yeah. Good. Good.” You nod, avoiding his gaze as you stare down at the plate of eggs and hashbrowns already set in your place.

“I'm glad.” His thumb gently caresses your cheekbone and then his fingers trail from your jaw to your collarbone before retreating. He doesn't miss the way goosebumps flower all over your skin.

You hum quietly, quickly stuffing a piece of hashbrown into your mouth in hopes that he doesn't ask you anything else.

The scent of your arousal slowly fills the atmosphere between the two of you, and Jake's cock twitches in response. He pushes the urge away and smirks slightly.

“You know, I've been thinking. I always give you tour after tour of the village and the clan and whatnot.” He glances sideways at you. “I was wondering if you could give me a tour of the lab?”

You laugh softly and point out, “You already know the lab.”

Jake is not the type to sugarcoat what he wants. He playfully rolls his eyes. “I was implying you should give me a tour of your quarters, silly.”

You blush more. “My...?” It takes you a moment to recover. When you do, you're quick to ask, “What for?”

He smirks, making what he wants absolutely obvious. Still, he innocently says, “I wanna get to know your place.”

You chuckle nervously. “My room's sort of a mess right now...”

He laughs and leans in a little closer. “I'm gonna let you think you're a good liar and pretend I believe you, alright?” he whispers. Then, leaning back, he says, “I don't mind a messy room.”

You can feel the embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “Um.”

He grins. “I promise not to touch anything,” he teases, crossing his arms and tucking his hands under his armpits.

Defeated, you sigh. “Fine. But if you touch a single thing, I'm kicking you out,” you joke, trying to push away the embarrassment you feel and hoping to regain some of your dignity.

He's kind enough to chuckle at that. “Alright. I'll behave, then.”

When you finish breakfast, you lead him out of the cafeteria, down various halls and into your corner of the lab.

Your quarters are made up of a total of three separate rooms. One, your greenhouse, originally a lab full of samples of Pandora flora that eventually overtook the space and now you grow them more than study them. Two, your office, full of thousands and hundreds of books you read for pleasure and not work; your desk is there, computer full of your daily logs. And third, your bedroom with its big queen-sized bed, luxurious mattress, rug-covered floor and joined bathroom as well as a small walk-in closet.

You lead Jake inside. The greenhouse first. He smiles at the small Pandora forest you've grown in here, each little plant encased in a special, all-glass habitat appropriate to its needs.

“This is neat,” he admits, chuckling.

You nod. “This is my favorite room,” you inform him, checking the temperature and humidity in each of the plants' habitats. “I always come in here if I want to relax and just be on my own for a while.”

“I can see why. It's so pretty.” He smiles as he watches you, fussing over your gathered flora.

“Yeah.”

You lead him into your office next. This room is the one you're most uneasy about. It's private. This is where your daily logs have turned from a record of Pandora to a teenagerish diary obsessing over Jake.

He walks in, fingers tracing over all the familar technology he doesn't use anymore. The space is all clean, spacey, extremely professional.

“It's so weird to be back in one of these rooms...”

You don't spend too much time in your office. You feel almost guilty about all the things you've recorded on your computer.

“Yeah. But you're all familiar with this sorta place.” You chuckle awkwardly; Jake can smell you're nervous. Your little hand grabs onto his for a moment as you tug him in the direction of your bedroom.

He follows after you, eager to see your room, the bed you sleep in, wondering if you ever touch yourself there while thinking of him...

Maybe he's too eager. His tail swishes around, excited, without him noticing. He only becomes aware of it when it knocks something over.

You're halfway into your bedroom by then, but you stop dead in your tracks when you hear your own voice from your computer.

“...and I try not to, I really do. But Jake's just...” A sigh. “God...”

“What's this?” Jake asks, turning around to find he's knocked over your log recorder, somehow managing to make it play last night's log.

You rush out of your room, reaching for the off button, but he holds you back. “No, no. I wanna see,” he tells you, his huge hand holding you away from your computer.

“That's private!” you argue, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“Not if it has my name in it,” he responds. He turns his attention away from your complaints and back to your log.

“...supposedly just friends, I know. And what's more. He's, like, a whole other species. But I just...can't get him out of my mind, and...”

Jake's eyes rake over your face as you speak. In the video, he can see your raw emotions. Your wide, darkened eyes. The way you chew on your bottom lip. The little sighs and exhales that leave your mouth as you talk about him.

“...drives me crazy. For fuck's sake, I have to touch myself at least twice a day because of him. And when he called me babygirl.” In the video, you bite your lower lip and whine lowly. “I want him so bad. And it's so wrong, I know, but I can't help it.”

Jake's eyebrows raise, his tail swinging with excitement.

Behind him, you're holding your face in your hands, hoping you die right now. The embarrassment is gonna kill you anyway.

He pauses the log, slowly turns to you. Your gaze is quick to avoid his.

He takes a step closer to you and grabs your chin in his enormous hand, forcing your eyes up to his. “Kid,” he says firmly.

You're quick to break. “I'm sorry!” you exclaim, horrified. “I...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have— It was wrong of me to— I just—”

His eyes move to your lips as you talk, and he cuts off your rambling by sliding his huge thumb into your mouth. “Stop talkin',” he says, voice low.

You swallow, hard.

His eyes follow the movement of it.

“Did you mean what you said there?” he questions.

You nod slightly. “Mhmm.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Even the part about touching yourself?”

You grimace, blushing intensely. You look away from him and he tightens his grip on your chin. Your eyes find his once more. After a while, you nod. “Mm...”

And then Jake loses it.

His enormous hands grab you by the hips, pushing you backwards into your bedroom. He slams the door shut after himself and then helps you onto the bed.

“You should've said so sooner, babygirl,” he tells you, voice low and raspy. “I could've helped you out a night or two.”

He spreads your legs, your skirt riding up your thighs and exposing the edge of your panties. Your scent is thick—thicker than it's ever been—and Jake can't help the animalistic urge that takes over him.

He pushes you to lay back against the pillows, one of his hands holding you down while his other one holds onto your hip. He nuzzles his face between your thighs, rubbing against the soft skin there. He slides his nose up your slit, teasing you through your panties which are rapidly growing moist.

You whine lowly, breath hitching, hands moving to his head. You hold him, back arching slightly in search of his mouth.

He groans against you, tongue darting out to flatten against your clit through your panties. You squirm under him, thighs squeezing his head.

He chuckles, smirking as he uses his huge hands to hold your legs open. He grabs the hem of your panties between his sharp canines and quickly tugs them off. The sight is almost enough to send you over the edge, somehow you manage not to lose your mind right there and then.

He throws your panties aside once you're out of them, his eyes quick to fall on your cunt. Delighted, he reaches for you, one hand holding your hip in place while his other hand slides between your thighs.

His middle finger traces up your slit, teasing your entrance. He spreads your soaked folds, eyes focused on the way you clench around nothing, how your slick drips down to the bed.

“Jake,” you whine out, cheeks heating from his intense gaze. “Jake.”

“Yeah, babygirl?” he says, eyes fluttering up to yours. “What do you want?”

You make a soft, high-pitched sound when he gently slides a finger into you. “I...I want you.” Is that your voice? So breathy and whiny and weak?

He nods. “Off to a good start. But I know you can do better, baby.” He grins deviously. “What do you want from me, babygirl? Hm?”

You blush. “Want you t'fuck me,” you mutter, shy, nerves getting the best of you.

He taps your thigh, drawing your eyes to his. “What was that, baby? I couldn't hear you.”

You feel your entire face heating with embarrassment. He loves to tease you, you know he does, and it always makes you shy and flustered.

“Please, Jake,” you whine. “Please fuck me.”

A small growl escapes his lips. “Oh, I want that. You don't know how bad I do.” He holds your gaze. “Are you sure you can take it?”

You nod, too clouded in your lust to even consider it. “I'm absolutely sure.”

He nods. “Alright, babygirl. But first, I gotta get this pussy 'f yours all nice and stretched out. I don't wanna hurt you.” He dives back between your thighs, his mouth finding your folds, his nose against your clit and his tongue tracing around your entrance.

Your nails dig into his scalp, your body trembling under his enormous hands that hold you still. Your eyes flutter shut, mind lost as Jake devours your cunt.

He tries to be gentle, but he's so eager to please you that he accidentally grazes his teeth against your sensitive cunt. It sends a whirl of ecstasy through you, making your hips jerk.

Jake's tail flicks with surprise, his ears perking as he glances up at you. He studies your face, looking for signs of discomfort. When he doesn't find any, he runs his sharp canines over your swollen folds again, teasing your clit as well.

That gets you writhing, hips torn between jerking away from his mouth and pressing against it.

He gently bites your clit, growling lowly when you whimper. One of his hands moves away from your thigh and to your cunt. His rough, thick middle finger presses against your entrance, gathering your slick before pushing inside of you.

Your velvet walls clench around his digit eagerly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the relief of having something inside.

Jake's mouth keeps working your clit, making you see stars, while he slides his ring finger into you as well.

His fingers are too clever by half. They find your g-spot with too much ease and are quick to curl against it, giving it the exact pressure it needs to make you writhe.

Your voice is a gentle whimper as you feel your orgasm nearing and start a high-pitched chorus of, “Jake! Jake! Jake!”

He chuckles against you, sending vibrations up your spine, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Your little hands grab onto his hair, trying to push his head away. “'s too much,” you cry. “It's too much! I-I can't! Jake, please! Fuck!”

He ignores your whining, knowing full well that you need to come. He keeps going, and your damn glad he does. But the pleasure is too intense; you're not sure you won't pass out any second now.

“No, no, I can't!” you insist, nimble hands failing at countering his strength. His mouth keeps devouring you, his fingers thrusting into you until you're falling over the edge.

“Fuck!” you cry, eyes fluttering shut, back arching. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Jake helps you ride out your orgasm until you fall limp on the bed, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“You okay?” he asks you, crawling on top of you, dwarfing you as he cups your face in his hand.

You nod. “'m fine.”

He smiles softly. “You still want me t'fuck you, babygirl?”

You nod. “Yes. Please.”

He nods. He takes his loincloth off, tosses it aside. Your eyes fall to his cock, heart racing at the sight of him. He's long, thick, and hard. The thought of it in you sends fear flying through you, and it only turns you on more.

You spread your legs in a silent invitation, your pretty eyes focused on his face.

Jake runs the thick head of his cock between your folds, teasing your clit, nudging your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, eyes studying yours for any sign if hesitance.

You nod. “Please, fuck me.”

“Deep breath for me, yeah?” His voice is soft, soothing, a gentle command. You nod. As you start taking that deep breath, he pushes into you.

At first, your cunt offers resistance, pain pricking your skin as the head of his cock struggles to fit. Once the tip is in, hoewever, the pain lessens and eventually dissipates, allowing you to relax.

Jake slides into you deeper and deeper, hissing quietly, his mind reeling from how tight you are. He fills you until the tip presses against your cervix, leaving almost half of his cock out of you.

He glances up at you to find your eyes shut, mouth open in a silent 'oh.' He chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Someday, I'm gonna be all the way inside of you,” he promises. “You're gonna learn to take every inch of my cock, babygirl.”

You moan, writhing underneath him, your body too overcome with pleasure for you to reply. Your breath is heavy, your back arches as he starts to move.

“Just like that,” he groans, one of his ginormous hands holding onto your hip, the other one braced on the headboard. “Good girl. Breathe for me, hm?”

You whimper, your hips grinding against his at the slow, steady rhythm he sets. You try to take even breaths, but with every tiny move he makes, shocks of ecstasy climb up your skin, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Oh, baby,” he chuckles, “this pretty little pussy is so good...so fuckin' good.”

You moan, hands curling into fists around the bed sheets under you. “Oh, God,” you cry out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pushing him almost impossibly deeper into you.

A snarl leaves Jake's lips. “Fuck, you're gonna kill me.” He leans down, his mouth meeting your neck. He bites your throat, his teeth dragging over your sensitive skin. He licks the sweat off your collarbone, buries his nose in the crook of your neck.

Stars dance behind your eyelids, your pulse races in your ears. You can't think, can't do much more than squirm under jake and moan.

“There you go, babygirl,” he whispers into your ear. “You're doing so good for me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your heels pressing against the small of his back. He can't get enough of you, but he knows he has to hold back. He'll hurt you otherwise, and he'd never risk that.

Heat blossoms in your core, spilling between your thighs and aching deep behind your belly button. Your release peeks through the haze, steadily growing, like a snowball rolling down a slope, gaining momentum and size.

“Jake!”

The sound of your voice, high-pitched and shaky, has Jake's ears perking up. Your velvet walls tighten around him and he groans.

“That's a good girl,” he hums. “My babygirl. You gonna come on my cock, hm? Gonna behave for me?”

You nod, eyes shut tight, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you try to muffle your whimpers.

“Answer me,” he demands, pounding you harder, his fingers digging into your skin, bruising your delicate body.

“Yes! Yes! I will!” you cry out, your body writhing, hips jerking as your orgasm bubbles right underneath the surface. Jake hisses as you clench around him, making it almost impossible for him to slide in and out of you.

Jake's predatory amber gaze watches you as you come undone. Your release crashes over you, making your back arch, your lips part. You moan, nails digging into his skin, slick gushing over his cock

Jake groans as he feels your pussy grow wetter, velvet walls clenching around him. And then his own orgasm takes over him. He spills his thick load inside of you, rope after rope of warm, sticky release. He pumps you full of his cum until it's dripping out of you and then he collapses beside you on the bed, breathless.

He hugs you to him, kissing your forehead. “You were so good for me, babygirl,” he says, his hands quick to massage your body wherever he left bruises. “Such a good girl.” He kisses your jaw, smiles against your neck. He chuckles and adds, “I bet that by this time next week, you'll have learned to take all of me inside that pretty little pussy, hm?”

You meet his gaze, blushing, your eyes growing wide. You nod, swallowing thickly. You're already thinking about what tonight's log is gonna be.

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@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @crazy4books1 @letsloveimagines

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