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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Same warnings as last time for dub con and general Johnny nastiness.

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut #anyway hope yall like it #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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slut4jeon · 6 months

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Closer to You (jjk)

Jk x fem reader

Summary- Jungkook’s early morning gym session leaves you feeling a whole lot of things

Warnings: smut, age gap idk by how much I’ll just leave it to your imagination, older jk, degradation, shower sex, pet names, the word daddy, breading kink, slapping, rough sex, everything’s consensual ofc, fictional!!!, etc idrk

The gasp I let out when he posted this on weverse+*%€#!^~*% (closer to you best b side on golden, fight me)

Turning on your side, drowsy and looking for a more comfortable position you notice how your boyfriends side of the bed was cold.

Assuming he had already gone on his early morning gym session, you waited patiently for his arrival.

You finally hear the sound of the front door closing, footsteps coming closer and closer to your shared bedroom. You take in your boyfriends appearance once he stepped into the room.

Your core sparked in need as you felt yourself heating up.

His skin and hair were damp due to the sweaty workout he had just completed. Oh how you wish you had gotten up from your sleep to admire his godly body as he worked out his muscular physique.

“Morning sweetheart, did my pretty girl sleep well?”, he said as he approached you, caressing your cheek with his manly hand.

“Yes, missed you while you were gone”, you said as he cooed you.

“Missed you more baby, I’ll go take a shower and be back alright?”, he said as he began heading to your bathroom with a reassuring nod.

You huffed in boredom as you heard the shower turn on. Suddenly a whole bunch of menacing things came up into your mind.

Entering the bathroom, mirrors fogged up due to the temperature of the water, it felt like a sauna. Slipping out of your silk nightgown now completely bare, you enter the shower with your boyfriend taking him by surprise.

He takes in your appearance, admiring your body from head to toe. A gulp ran through his throat as he craved for you.

“Not tired anymore, baby?”, he said as he embraced you in his muscular tatted arms.

“No, felt lonely and bored. Wanted to be closer to you”, you said with a hint of neediness in your tone.

He caught on to your fake act. He knew you like the back of his palm. Being attentive and aware to your needs. How could he ever say no to a pretty thing like you?

“You little minx, does baby want something, hm?”, two can play at one game he thought, he needed you to share your naughty thoughts with him before proceeding.

“Yes, you.”, giving your best doe eyed stare as you batted your pretty lashes.

That’s all it took for Jungkook to latch his pinky soft lips with yours, eloping the two of you. He kissed you with a sense of hunger, caressing your sides with his strong hands. Gripping onto your plump cheeks as he gave them a firm stinging slap. Causing you to jump and whine in surprise.

You felt his hardening member touching your upper thigh. His hands left your ass as he groped your full breasts, rubbing and pinching on your buds. He teared his hungry lips away from yours as he latched them onto your hardening buds. He was so rough you loved it, loving the way he manhandled you.

You whined in sensitivity of his skillful mouth as you then firmly gripped with your palm onto his length. An up and down motion from base to tip making sure to rub the slit on the tip as well. He grunted in response which only made you wetter.

“ah fuck, mhm” you squealed out in surprise as he began rubbing in between your plumpy folds.

This only caused him to react in a rough manner, gripping onto your hairs roots.

“Language, watch your mouth. Don’t wanna hear any bad words coming outta your pretty mouth.”, he said with seriousness. Jungkook never liked when you cursed.

His authoritative tone always sent sparks to your already dripping core.

He plunged his long fingers into your cunt, provoking you to release a sweet melodic moan.

“You’re that needy? Desperately needed a good morning fuck, hm?”, he spewed as he pumped his fingers into your raw cunt.

In ecstasy you nodded your head frantically. This causing the excitement to rush into his already hard cock enjoying the submissiveness of your voice.

He slipped his fingers out of your heat causing you to whine in complaint. He slapped a firm slap onto your plump ass.

“Be patient slut”, shoving his fingers coated in your juices to your mouth causing you to suddenly gag.

You cleaned off his fingers as he watched. Roughly turning you around so your bent against the cold bathroom tile wall as your ass sticked out onto his hard on aching to be filled up by his thick cock.

You turned your head towards his direction, locking eyes with him as you mentally begged to be filled by him, expression wise.

“Baby desperately wants my cock, too dumb you don’t even know what you want.”, he complied on what you were asking for, after all you were the one begging.

Stubbornly you retorted back, “I do! w-want your cock, daddy please! want it s-so bad!”

Griping onto your wet hair and pulling it toward to his chest, leaning into your ear “Since your begging like a pathetic slut then you’re gonna take it like one”, he whisper-gritted out as he pushed his entire length in you.

Your full-throated moans were music to his ears. Igniting his excitement and provoking him to pump animalistic til your pussy was raw and red.

“s-shit you’re so fucking tight” he said as you cried.

“s good!“ you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence with how stupid dumb he was pounding into you right now.

All that was heard was both your melodic moans in harmony as his ball frantically slapped onto your ass.

You were in daze. Your thoughts suddenly being cut off by his large palm gripped onto your nape pulling you upwards into his chest.

This erupted a whole new sensation, your current position brushing onto your g spot deliciously.

You cried and whined

“s too much! s-sensitive!”

He loud out a dry chuckle, “Yea? Well too bad baby, you’re gonna take it. You wanted this.”

“daddy gonna c-cum!” You cried as his fingers reached to your lower bud and began abusing it, spasm coming closer.

“Shit me too baby, gonna fill you up real good with my babies. You want that sweetheart? Want to be bred with my babies? Make you a mama, hm?

You stupidly nodded your head eagerly, the words “yes!”, frantically spilling out of your mouth along with your cried moans.

Both cuming together on time, your staggering breathes and cum leaking abused cunt being the after math of your steamy sesh. Jungkook back-hugged you as he repeated what was said earlier on, “do you really want to have babies with me?”, glistening eyes reappearing.

“Yes , I really wanna have children with you kook.”, you said

Reacting in excitement, turning you around so you now are both face to face. He elopes both of your lips together.

“Guess we better start practicing.”

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #bts jungkook #jungkook #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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I don't know if this would be something you're interested in but I'd really like to see a protective!finnick. Doesn't have to be related to the games, like reader doesn't need to be a tribute or a rebel but she can be! Up to you, but it'd be interesting to see that side of him

thank you for your request lovely! I challenged myself to write something actually in universe for once, so I hope you enjoy it! (set in catching fire)

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader cw for reader fainting from the heat

“Be careful.”

Finnick’s big hand on your back, his torso not far behind. He points to a thick tree root in your path. You step over it easily, exasperated. This is maybe the fourth time in the past ten minutes he’s said those same two words.

“I am,” you say simply. You are. If not for your sake then for Finnick’s. If you were to get so much as a cut on your leg he’d lose his mind. “S’hard when you’re standing so close, though.”

Finnick makes a face at you over your shoulder. “Sorry. You’re precious cargo, y’know?”

Your face warms, which is not ideal. You’re already well on your way to becoming a human furnace — the jungle you’re surrounded by is sticky and overly warm. You’re definitely overheating though you won’t tell Finnick that, he’ll only get worse. The water back at the beach is sure to cool you down — you’ll hop in as soon as you get back.

“You’re hopeless,” you tell Finnick in the meantime.

Finnick grins. “For you, yeah.”

You roll your eyes and march on ahead. Slowly the jungle gets thinner and thinner until you’re emerging onto the beach and your makeshift camp. The sun beats down on the landscape, glinting off the ripples in the water and rolling off the white sand in waves. You’re struck suddenly by how agonisingly hot you feel. It was sickeningly warm in the jungle but this is somehow much worse, the heat like a knife, sharp, cruel, and enough to make you dizzy.

“Ah, the lovebirds are back,” Johanna drawls when she spots you and Finnick emerging from the deep green trees. “What took you so long?”

Finnick shrugs. “Oh, you know. Sight-seeing. Did you— hey, what’s wrong?”

You’ve grabbed a tree for support as your vision swims suddenly. Your head pounds, as if your brain is trying to punch it’s way out of your skull. The dizziness you’d felt as soon as you stepped into the sun builds until you’re swaying on your feet.

You try desperately to keep your eyes open but the sun glares at you until you’re forced to squeeze them shut. “I don’t feel very well. I think I’m…”

It’s all you get out before you collapse in half like a rag doll. Finnick shouts your name and surges forward to grab you. He slides an arm under your back while the other grabs at your waist, tight as a vice.

“What the hell?” Johanna says loudly, standing up fast. “Is she okay?”

“Get me some water, please,” Finnick says, strained. You’re clearly not okay. His heart pounds in his throat and threatens to choke him. Johanna runs off and Finnick pulls you into the shade of the trees, carefully lowering you into the sand on your back.

He kneels next to you, panic rising like bile in his throat. Your eyes are closed, your head heavy in his hands.

“Y/N,” he says, an edge of panic to his voice. Please wake up, he thinks. “Y/N, honey.“

You’re completely unresponsive. Thinking the worst, Finnick presses his fingers to your throat. Thankfully, he feels a steady pulse, though it doesn’t do much to calm his spiking worry, not when you’re still unconscious.

“Can you hear me?” He tries gently tapping your cheek but to no avail. He curses. “Johanna!” He yells out, past being polite. “Water, now.”

“It’s coming!” Johanna yells back from the shoreline, clearly as agitated as he is.

Finnick grits his teeth and takes your face in his hands, trying his best to be gentle when he’s so panic stricken. “Hey. Baby, come on. Wake up.”

When you don’t respond, he carefully lowers your head and swiftly slides his hands to your shoulders. He’s careful but firm as he shakes you. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to be rough with you, but he’s glad he’s done it because it works. Just as Johanna arrives with a seashell full of water, Peeta and Katniss hot on her heels, your breath catches. Then your eyelids flutter, and then your lips part.

“Finnick?”

Finnick releases a shuddering breath, his heartbeat a pounding drum in his ears. The relief in hearing your voice is akin to a spear being pulled out of his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, hey, I’ve got you. You can hear me, right?”

“I can hear you,” you say. You try to turn your head, searching for him even in your disoriented state, but Finnick holds you in place.

“Don’t move, sweet thing,” he tells you. Unable to look away from you until he knows you’re absolutely alright, Finnick puts his hand out for the water wordlessly. Johanna hands it to him quick as a flash. “Can you open your eyes?”

You can, though it takes you a little while, blinking sluggishly in the harsh light. Finnick’s quick to shade your face with one hand. Your eyes appear, glazed but beautiful as always.

“Good girl,” Finnick tells you, hand on your cheek. He’s still buzzing — the heat of the sudden onslaught of panic hasn’t dissipated just yet. He carefully strokes your hair away from your sweaty neck with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna cool you down, okay? Can I unzip you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Finnick unzips your suit halfway down your chest, taking care to angle his torso so the others don’t see anything they don’t have to. Slowly, he tips the water over your hot skin. It slides over the slopes of your shoulders and creeps down into your suit. It must feel good because you shudder and let out a small breath.

Finnick thumbs your collarbone, feeling overwhelmed with relief. His hands don’t leave you, afraid you’ll disappear again if he lets go. The panic ebbs slowly as he watches you come back to life, your eyes becoming clearer by the second.

“She’s okay?” Peeta speaks up after a long moment of silence.

Finnick nods. “She’s okay,” he assures. “It was the heat, I think.” He finally lets himself look away from you, if only to ask Peeta, “Could you get us some more water?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The other three all trail off, leaving you and Finnick on your own. You try to sit up as they leave but Finnick presses his hand to your chest, palm flat on your warm skin.

“Don’t,” he says. “You’ve gotta lay flat, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, looking bashful. “Sorry,” you say softly.

“Don’t be sorry. No more fainting though, okay?” He rubs your shoulder. “I know I’m really handsome, but you don’t have to be so drastic about it.”

You groan but it quickly morphs into a laugh. Finnick kisses your forehead and then holds your hand until Peeta returns with the water.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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bystarlightlore · 8 months

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first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.

i die.

moving on...

sweet alex, he’s all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.

it’s integral to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.

the book & film are both from alex’s perspective, but there’s one thing that we’re afforded between the pages that doesn’t fully make it on screen — his emotional & cognitive layers. & that’s not anybody’s fault & it doesn’t make the film any less incredible, that’s just how adaptations occur sometimes. you can’t translate everything on screen & honestly, that’s the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.

tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alex’s movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i can’t imagine anyone else being our alex. i can’t get over how perfectly he was casted.

all this to reiterate, it’s so key to watch alex here.

we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere — “i’ve never felt this way about anyone” — & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.

“it’s like there’s a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.”

there’s never been a moment in his life where can’t share exactly how he feels. he’s always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question about if he’d tell henry, the question was what he’d tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.

his mom asked if he felt ‘forever’ about henry & he didn’t consciously know at the time. (i’m a firm believer in the fact that they’ve been in love all along but that’s not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & that’s where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.

“& it feels so right”

all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.

i don’t see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.

he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time — running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henry’s wrist & back. i think he needs it here just as much as he wants it.

the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when he’s skin-to-skin with the man he loves.

this moment cannot be any different.

—- “what i mean to say is, henry, i—“

i’d give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun — someplace as bright & warm as he is.

alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.

the same cannot be said for our prince.

our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.

he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.

distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)

in our prince’s head, it doesn’t matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesn’t matter if he’s loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart — their hearts — are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything that’s passed between them in the past year — the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love — henry does the one thing he’s always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new year’s eve.

alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. he’s kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.

our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.

the progress isn’t lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.

& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of england’s hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because there’s too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you can’t be overjoyed — because you’re terrified.

grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #firstprince

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol, explicit themes/language (? like no smut just want of smut haha)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

At some point, your boyfriends had evidently decided that you’re not to be let out of sight. You’ve tried to go get another drink on several occasions, but no matter who you talk to, you always seem to end up right back on the Longbottom’s settee with one of the three of them. Now they’ve fixed you in Sirius’ lap, his hands spread firm and possessive over the curves of your hips to keep you from running off. Every time he shifts his leg even a little, the heat in your core intensifies.

Now, he laughs at something someone says, body rumbling like a motor underneath yours, and you nearly whimper. You lean back until your head is on his shoulder.

“Siri,” you murmur into his ear, “let’s go upstairs.”

He turns his head into yours, smirking. “We are upstairs, sweet thing.”

Oh. “Well, can we go somewhere else?”

“Why, honey?” Sirius’ voice is smooth as always, and now it runs over your skin like velvet. You could almost shiver. “You bored?”

You lean away just slightly so you can look him in the eyes, keeping your voice low. “I want to fuck you.”

You watch surprise, then delight, and finally chagrin play one after the other over your boyfriend’s features. He presses a chaste kiss to the skin under your ear, repentant. “I wish I could,” he tells you, breath fanning over your neck and giving you goosebumps, “but it’ll have to wait.”

“Why?” you whine.

From the other side of the couch, James sends you an inquisitive look at the sound. Sirius pats your thigh consolingly. “It just will, baby. I’ll take care of you tomorrow, yeah? Let it go for now.”

You don’t think you will.

You start squirming in Sirius’ lap, trying to turn around so you can kiss him but not quite coordinated enough to manage it. As it turns out, your fidgeting is enough. His hold tightens on your hips, and he leans forward, murmuring a placid “Behave” into your ear.

Your cunt pulses. Galvanized by this discovery, you repeat your new tactic, shuffling around on your boyfriend’s lap until his grip is punishing. You can feel the shape of his rings through the material of your bottoms. Sirius growls, and James’ head pops into view once again.

“What’s going on over there?” he asks.

“Sirius is being mean to me,” you whine before your boyfriend can get a word in. “He won’t let me move.”

“I’ll bet.” James eyes Sirius’ flustered countenance, beckoning for you. “Come here, babydoll.”

Sirius releases you into James hold. You notice him crossing his legs as soon as you’re away. James takes the other boy’s trials as a cautionary tale, tucking you into his side rather than sitting you on his lap.

“You’re in a troublesome mood, are you?” he asks fondly, rubbing up and down your arm.

“M’not,” you object. “Sirius was just being mean. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Mhm.” His disbelieving sound purrs through your bones.

You cozy up to James, looking at him through your lashes. The material of his jumper feels nice against your cheek. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

He laughs raucously. You’re about to scowl, but he pecks you on the crown of your head, saving himself. “Just to be clear, are you asking me to fuck you in Alice and Frank’s new house when you’re sloppy drunk?”

You nod impatiently.

“Yeah, that’s not happening, darling.” He delivers another kiss to the top of your head to soften the blow. “But I do think I can persuade Remus to take us all home, how about that?”

Just as quickly as disappointment takes root inside you, hope blooms in its stead. You smile so hugely your ear pops. “Yes, please,” you tell James.

He squeezes your upper arm affectionately before leaning over, conveying something to Remus with a look that you might normally be able to interpret but currently can’t be bothered to. They’re going to take you home. You know what that means. There, you can fuck louder and nastier and longer than you ever would’ve been able to if you were trying to be discrete in the Longbottom’s spare bedroom. You can’t get there fast enough.

James stands you up, and there’s a flurry of goodbyes and niceties as your boyfriends shepherd you out the door. Or, you know they must all be with you, but it’s sort of hard to keep track of three people at once. You’re not completely sure whose hand is on your forearm as you descend the steps outside, or who wrestles you into their jacket when you shiver at the brisk night air. You lean contentedly into the loving touches regardless.

Eventually, it’s Sirius who gets you settled in the backseat, worriedly making Remus take your hands in his so you don’t stick them in the door when he closes it.

“You don’t think you’re going to be sick?” he asks, and you have the vague impression he’d been upset with you not long ago, but you can’t recall what for and there’s none of that in his demeanor now. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear, lips pursed. “I can run back in and get a bag for the car ride.”

“No, m’fine.” You sit up extra straight to prove it, cheesing at him. “I’m excited to go home.”

Sirius snickers and closes your door, but Remus cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What exactly do you think is going to happen when we get home?” he asks.

“We’re gonna fuck,” you say brightly.

In the driver’s seat, James barks out a laugh at your crass language. Remus darts a look his way, looking like he might be biting back a smile of his own.

“Dove,” he says, “we’re not doing that tonight. We’re going to have some water and go to sleep.” You must look crushed, because his smile turns pitying. “You’re too drunk, sweetheart.”

“But I want to,” you say brokenly.

“If you wake up tomorrow feeling better, you can have whatever you want.”

From the front seat, Sirius says, “I’ve tried to tell her this.”

You make a plaintive whining sound, and Remus reaches around your face, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder consolingly. “You’re being so mean to me,” you lament.

“Oh, I know,” he coos, patting your hair. “M’the worst.”

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pwinkprincess · 2 months

Note

do u write for sukunaaaa

if so can we have cum denial wit him. like fingering n teasing reader till she’s crying n babbling 🐾 <3

sugarpie ୨ৎ

not getting sukuna’s attention has you acting out ୨ৎ

yeah probs mii first nd last time writing abt kuna ^.^ i really enjoyed doing dis for u tho ^_^

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ SUGARPIE ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ---> rough fingering, pet names (baby, princess, mama), shameless use of the word daddy :P, begging, clit slapping, squirting, daddydom!kuna, lawyer!kuna, orgasm denial

“kuna.” you drag out his name as you climb onto his lap. it’s been hours since he’s given you any sort of attention, you understood that the paperwork he is working on is extremely important. he briefly explained to you days prior about taking on a big case that would bring in a lonesome amount of money once everything was said and done. which is fine, of course you’re gonna support your kuna in whatever he takes on. but what isn’t fine is his attention being diverted to papers instead of you.

he grumbles out while he leans to your side so that he could see what was displayed on his desk. you sit quietly on his lap for a few moments, your mind is racing with how you could get his attention back onto you. a deep rooted, responsible and sensible side of you reminds you that he’s working and he told you that he would be busy on it, you know you’re being selfish but you can’t find it in you to care. if anything it’s sukuna’s fault for spoiling you so much!

“kuna.” you whine again. your head lays on his hard shoulder while your hands begin slithering against his waist. even through his shirt you could feel the hardened muscles, you loved just running your acrylic tips over his muscles and watching them tense every now and then. “daddy, are you ignoring me?” you ask with a frown that sukuna didn’t need to see, he could hear it in your voice.

“‘f course not, baby. ‘m just busy trying to sign these documents.” sukuna barely pays attention to the words coming out of his mouth as he jots down more and more onto the paper.

“aren’t you tired?” you huff, “can’t you just take a little break?”

“not right now. i need to stay on top of this case ‘nd fill out as much as i can as fast as i can.” he suddenly leans down a little to grab a paper thats on the far end of his desk. you wrap your arms tighter around him, but you know sukuna would never let you fall. no matter how busy and out of it he seems.

you don’t like that response at all. you roll your eyes at his resistance and settle with resting your head on the crook of his neck. you breathe in his cologne. the colognes’ he wears pairs so well with his natural scent. they smell so warm but masculine in a way. you close your eyes, opting to lay there and enjoy the feeling of his heart thumping and his body movements each time he inhales and exhales. you use the sound of the pen sliding against the paper as white noise.

you hum softly against him. this is better than being in separate rooms, you suppose. you would prefer for his attention to be on you completely but you’ll take what’s given at the moment. usually, you’d be chattering away about minuscule things while sukuna works but he quickly shut that down weeks ago.

“my office is my sanctuary, princess. i don’t care if you come ‘n here but you have to stay quiet so daddy can focus.” the firmness in his tone left no room for debate, which is why you slowly nodded your head while looking up at him.

you were only able to sit still and quiet for a few minutes, you tried, you really did. but you couldn't contain yourself from letting out littles hums and shifting your hips every few minutes. your little thin panties would get snagged on the shape of his cock causing little whimpers to escape from your throat when it does happen. sukuna doesn’t comment on anything you do, only occasionally patting your thigh when he deems you are moving too much.

“kuna, please.” you whine out as you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him fully. you didn’t have to say what you wanted, he knew. he always does.

“‘m working, mama.” he reminds you. irritation is seeping through his usual tone. hearing the slowly growing firmness begin to take over his words causes little hairs to stand up on your body, you both loved and hated when he talked to you like this.

“i don’t care! i need you kuna!” you clutch at his shirt with your hands. the hairs continue to stand.. no way you just raised your voice at him. a twitch of fear settles in your stomach.

“watch your tone.” he stops writing completely.

“wouldn’t have gotten loud if you would’ve jus’ paid attention to me.” you mutter under your breath as you begin getting off of his lap.

“the fuck you just say?”

୨୧

“kuna, i can’t! ‘s too much please!” you cry out as his thick fingers roughly pump into your fat pussy. the sounds of your arousal coating his digits filled the room, you were so fucking wet. he had already managed pull an almost orgasm out of you. he waited until you were breathing heavy and for your legs to be shaking desperately to pull away.

he doesn’t respond to you, only forcing your legs further with one hand while adding another finger. you squeal and whine while clutching on his wrist. his fingers are so fucking thick inside your sensitive pussy. your clutch at his wrist does nothing to slow him down.

your poor pussy could do nothing but take his aggressive fingers, you thrashed around on his lap which only made him slink an arm around your waist to hold you in place. fat tears ran down your cheeks as he continued holding your legs open so that he could continue to fill you.

everything about sukuna is thick. not just his fingers, but his cock (especially that), his muscles, his personality. those were just minor reasons that added up to why you loved him.

hearing the humiliating squelch, squelch, squelch and just feeling your arousal dripping down from your everflowing pussy to his lap. if you weren’t getting fucked stupid by his fingers you would’ve been embarrassed from the growing wet spot that is forming on his slacks.

“talkin’ t’me crazy.. have you lost your fucking mind?” he asks. with every word he’s hammering his fingers as deep as he possibly could, it’s almost to the point that it hurts. you whimper out a soft “daddy” and try to close your legs to prevent him from continuing to abuse your poor pussy.

you can’t find it in you to say a response, instead, you let out loud mewls and sobs. sukuna doesn’t take much appreciation to his words being met with silence, with a rough huff he pulls out the hand that’s fucking you to oblivion to give you three rough slaps against your right thigh.

a piercing sob breaks through your lips,“yes! daddy! ah! yes! i'm sorry daddy!” you didn’t even know what you were saying. loud sniffles mixed with the words you slobbered out. you were a complete mess, you loved when sukuna got you like this.

“‘s okay, though. don’t worry, baby. daddy’s going to make sure you remember your manners.” he plunges his fingers back into you with no warning prompting an unexpected orgasm to shoot from your sensitive pussy. he groans and begins slapping at your clit. squeals escape from deep in your throat. he remembers specifically telling you not to cum until he said so.

“daddy! oh! ah! ah! i’m sorry!” you try to crawl away from the intensity of your orgasm. sukuna clicks his teeth and roughly pushes you back up so that your back is aligned evenly to his chest. you’re fully sobbing now as a stream leaks out and sprays onto his fingers, lap, and parts of his paperwork.

“no more, kuna, puhllleeaaa-ahhmygodd..” your sentence is broken when he powers his movements back up. you’re still leaking out your orgasm when he adds a third finger. “daddy! kuna! baby! pleaseee, no more!” drool leaks from the corners of your mouth as you are dumbly babbling out to him.

“tch.” he sighs. “cummin’ even when i told you not to. you must really not be my good girl now? hm?” you could hear the smirk in sukuna’s voice. usually when he finds your actions amusing, you’d pout at him. but you were so fucked out all you could do is continue to grip his wrist weakly.

“‘s too much, kuna. toooo muchhhh.” you groan. you try closing your legs around his hand once again and this time sukuna bites down on your shoulder making you squirm. he didn’t bite down hard, he made sure to only use enough force to make you stop moving.

“keep ignorin’ me.” he warns. “your second time now. even while getting punished, you’re still actin’ up.” he jeered. “maybe you’re not my good girl after all.”

“‘m your good girl. promise. ‘m your good girl.” you sniffle, he was still rubbing his fingers against your walls filling you up jussttt right. your eyes glance down and you could see his hand sparkling with your arousal and to make matters more intense his fingers are etched with your cream. you could only whine at the sight.

he places soft kisses on the side of your neck and jaw. “watch me fuck my pussy.” he mumbles while placing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “gonna make sure my pussy gets all the attention it's been beggin’ for, and you better not fucking cum again until i say so.”

#asks ! ˚ ༘ ೀ #pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ #kuna ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryoumen smut

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astroboots · 10 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

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It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something.

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…”

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either."

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself.

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes.

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set.

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause.

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude.

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak.

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong."

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways.

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination.

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter.

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!"

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap.

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head.

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn?

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely.

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out.

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.

Now that he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl.

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you.

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side.

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest.

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller.

"It's okay," you say.

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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jupipedia · 11 months

Text

— older bf!toji headcannons. warnings: age gap, established relationship, implied plus-sized!reader, black!reader, afab!reader, ooc toji, fingering [ f. receiving ], oral [ m. + f. receiving ], praise, degradation [ reader gets called a slut, whore, etc. ], cervix kissing, dumbification (?), unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, slight size kink, pet names [ baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, etc. ]

— older bf!toji is a sucker for pretty things, including you.

— he thinks you're beyond gorgeous. he can't tell what he loves more, your beautiful smile or your narrow eyes. he's in love with your complexion, your brown skin clashing perfectly with his porcelain tone.

— toji loves your figure, not being able to take his eyes off of the slight pudge off your stomach the first time you wore low rise jeans around him. nor could he stop thinking about your full chest and round ass, usually choosing to use either of them as a resting place when he's had a long day.

— he can't help himself when you're around, always reaching for you as you walk by him, pulling you into his lap and holding you firmly by the plush skin of your hips.

— you're just so cute when you squeak when he appears behind you or when you avoid eye contact as he holds your chin in his hand, forcing you to face him or when his hands trail under his big t-shirt that stops at your mid-thigh.

— he's a bit older than you and definitely more experienced. he knows how to get you worked up. he know your body incredibly well, knowing what spots to prod with his nimble fingers to make your eyes roll back. he know how much pressure to apply to your clit to push you over the edge. he knows how to push you to a grander release, forcing clear streams from your cunt.

— that doesn't mean you don't know how to please him just as well.

"fuck, baby. you're, mmh, so good with your mouth," toji panted, holding your braids at the roots as he worked more of his cock into your mouth. your knees dug into the plush carpet below you as you forced yourself to swallow around him. "so warm and so-so wet. such a good whore f'me."

he guided your head, allowing himself to control the pace at which you pleasured him. his head was thrown back as he felt your tongue trace along a vein of his cock, heightening his arousal. he fought the urge to force your head further down, wanting to feel you choke around him. he opted to pull your head away, dropping onto his knees and meeting your gazes as you caught your breath.

"i need you to get your pretty ass on the bed and spread your legs for me. think you can manage?" he said, smirking as he watched you nod and turn to get onto your shared bed. he smirk widened at the yelp that escaped you once he landed a quick smack onto your ass.

once you were positioned to his liking, toji took a firm grasp of you plush thighs, kissing down the left one before skipping over your core to kiss up the right.

"toji, please~" you whined, wishing that he wouldn't tease you tonight. he responded by biting down on your thigh, soothing the mark with his tongue as you moaned.

"stop your fucking whining. you'll wait until i decide on how much i want to give you. do you understand?" toji scolded, resuming his trail of kisses.

"yes, yes, i-i understand," you forced out as toji's fingers trailed along you slit, collecting some of your wetness on his fingers.

"shit, doll. you're soaked. all worked up over a little kissing, hmm?" toji wasn't searching for a proper answer as he decided that he was done teasing, opting to take a languid lick before suctioning his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue on the nub. he used his shoulders to push your legs closer to your chest, allowing him to force his face deeper into your heat.

"ah, ah~ toji... to-ung! feels so good, ah~" you squealed out, back arching off of the bed as his slipping two thick fingers into you entrance. it didn't take him any time to find your g-spot, causing your body to jerk wildly due to the stimulation.

"you're so loud today, making so many pretty noises for me. your little cunt is so tight around my fingers," he pulls away from your center for few breaths before diving back in, licking in to your core and suctioning your clit. his finger moved in and out of your pussy rapidly, hooked ever so slightly to graze your g-spot with each movement.

"i'm s'close. ah, toji please! wan' cum, please~," you begged, feeling a familiar pressure build up in your lower stomach. he increased his pace, never pulling away from your clit.

"you're gonna cum for me, hm? i can tell by the way your slutty pussy keeps spasming around my finger. go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl. gotta cum for me so i can stretch you. wanna fuck you real good," he mumbles around your clit, the vibrations increasing your pleasure and pushing you towards your release.

"cummin', cummin', fuck ah~ i'm cumming," you whined out as you came, legs shaking on toji's shoulders as he continued his ministrations, not letting up until you started pushing his head away due to overstimulation.

he pulled his fingers from your heat, sucking your sweet juices from his fingers before kissing up your body, stopping at your lips where he forced his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

"you taste so good, baby. mmm, so good," he pulls away from you lips before positioning himself at your entrance. he pumped his cock a few times before wordlessly pushing into you, not stopping until his tip kissed your cervix.

"ahhh~" you wailed, tearing welling up in your eyes from the pleasure. it was a a pleasurable stretch, toji molding your pussy into the shape of his cock as he pulled his hips back, only to slam right back in. he repeated his deep strokes a few times before lower himself towards you and grabbing your thighs, pushing them to your chest. he began to fuck into you heat, his length dragging against you g-spot with each movement.

the depth of his strokes left you gaping wordlessly. he took this as an opportunity to kiss you deeply, teeth clashing and lips bruising your own. he groaned into your mouth, losing himself in the pleasure.

a specific thrust of his hips had his tip making direct contact with cervix, earning a wanton moan from you as you scraped along his back, acrylic nails leaving read marks in their wake.

"i love this cunt so much. fuck, such a slutty. fucking. cunt," he punctuated his words with a thrust, causing stars to fill your vision as you neared your climax. "you're gonna cum already? i'm fucking you that good? is that it, baby? you wanna cum for me?"

you couldn't give him a warning as you came around his length, him groaning as you tighten around him. your release didn't stop him as he continued to fuck into you with a rough pace. you clung onto him tighter, feeling your pleasure increase as he overstimulated you.

"you can give me another one, right?" toji asked, slipping a hand in between the two of you to draw sloppy circles on you swollen clit. "you can go again. and you will."

toji dropped his head in the crook of your neck, leaving hickies in the wake of his harsh suckling at your skin. your legs shock wildly as the added stimulation to your clit dragged you towards another orgasm.

"gon' cum. ah~ 'm gon-ah. please to'," you warbled out, unable to make a real sentence due to the intensity of your upcoming orgasm.

"is my dumb whore gonna cum? hm? gonna squirt all over my cock? go ahead baby. cum. cum on my cock, whore," toji egged you on, rubbing you clit in quicker, tighter circle.

your vision turned white as you came, clear streams of liquid leaving your cunt and forcing toji's cock from your core as he continued to rub your clit. he only stopped once your squirting ceased, tapping your cunt with his dick instead.

"that was a good one, beautiful. think you can do it again?"

#— (jupipedia.)#— (jupiter: after hours.)#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #anime x black!reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x black reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x plus sized reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

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confessedlyfannish · 6 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

#sam:#bruce:#bruce: so i was thinking brainwashing-#sam: ghost puberty #bruce: frick #sam give-my-boyfriend-the-talk manson #at some point when danny went from teen hero to the eldritch being of our fanfic dreams he had to start experiencing the “becoming”#i imagine that was actually pretty terrifying #his whole family calling it ghost puberty is probably actually really kind and appreciated #hey i'm starting to forget to breathe and sometimes i want to bite things #aw honey it's ok your body is chaaanging #you're teeeething #baby's first feral chomp #sometimes i hear the universe it is a symphony i cannot explain but if i listen too long i fear it shall sweep me away forever #let's get you some airpods with the latest paramore album #that helping?#yes actually ty #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #batman #sam manson #danny fenton #danny phantom #my writing

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sunvmars · 8 months

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sour | s.r. [2]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of abortion, pregnancy/pregnant reader- that's ab it

summary: you and steve discuss plans for the pregnancy, steve faces the consequences of his actions

a/n: oh boy have i got a little plot twist coming for y'all soon. also, the chapters will get longer as more of the story is revealed!

“I’m pregnant, Steve.”

Steve's hold on you became a little tighter. He found himself unable to fully process the information you'd just dropped on him; you being pregnant wasn't something he had even considered. You stood still in his arms, allowing him time to process the news and awaiting any type of response from him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The words kept repeating in his head; she’s pregnant, she's pregnant, she's…pregnant.

"Steve? Did you hear me?" you questioned, voice slightly muffled by how you were being pressed into his chest.

Only after hearing your voice again did he move. He released his grip on you and took a step back to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression containing a mix of disbelief and confusion. There was something else hidden below the surface of his gaze too- a deep-rooted concern. A concern not only for you but for the tiny little life growing inside of you too, the life both of you created.

"What..? I'm sorry, this is just, uhm, wow."

You cock an eyebrow up at him, "That's all you've got to say?"

When he doesn't respond, you scoff. His eyes search the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with you.

"Well, now that you've made this abnormally awkward, I think I'm gonna go home now," you chuckle, trying to hide your irritation, ''Since I'm having your baby, please feel free to call me when you've got something else to add, alright?"

He grabs your arm when you turn to leave, "Wait. I'm sorry, y/n. Come inside, please. We can talk in here.”

Reluctantly, you allowed Steve to guide you into the apartment. His grip on your arm stayed gentle but firm like he thought you were gonna turn and run away at any moment. Once fully inside, you noticed how everything seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Most of the pictures were off the wall except for two.

One picture was one that Tony had taken at the beach a year ago. The photo was of you, Steve, and Bucky sitting in the sand. You were laying in Steve's lap with your head resting on his chest while playing rock, paper, scissors with Bucky for the last slice of Steve's birthday cake.

The other photo just had you and Steve on your first date. You'd made him take a picture with you in front of the movie theater you went to. It was the oldest theater in town and, at some point during the night, you made a joke about how the theater was the only thing as old as him in the city.

He'd rolled his eyes at the joke but found himself unable to contain a smile when he saw your face light up as you laughed. You were witty, and that was his favorite thing about you, even if he was on the butt end of the joke. As long as you still had that pretty smile on your face, he didn't care how many jokes you made about him.

The soft, white couch you'd picked out together when the two of you first moved in was still there too and so was your favorite vase. The vase was missing the flowers though- the flowers he'd come home with every Friday without fail. More often than not, the ones he bought the week before weren't even dead yet, but he'd buy you new ones anyways.

"Ma used to tell me that if someone buys you flowers and they don't die for a long time, that means they really love you. But it's unavoidable that they'll die eventually, right? So I figured that if I buy you new ones before the old ones die then you'll never get the chance to forget how much I love you," he explained, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

"Right, but what if I forget anyway?" you joked with a smile.

And then he shrugged and gave you a peck on your nose, "Then it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you, honey," he cooed.

You bit your tongue, forcing the lump in your throat to go back down upon remembering all of the moments you shared. This was your home until just a couple of months ago, and now it felt like you were standing in a shell of what used to be your safe space.

Steve led you to the living room, the last room you'd been in before he gave up on your future together. He gestured for you to take a seat and you plopped into your favorite recliner that didn't even seem like it'd been touched since you left. The tension in the room was palpable as he sat on the far end of the couch, the side farthest away from you.

"You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" you joked, rubbing a hand over your aching stomach.

He gave a short-lived chuckle before speaking, "Listen, I'm sorry for my reaction," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect this, and I'm sure you didn't either."

You nodded to show your understanding, "It's alright, this is a lot for both of us."

"What do you wanna do..?"

"Me?"

His brain blanks as he tries to think of whether or not he'd said something wrong.

"Yeah?" he finally says, almost saying it like a question.

"It's not just my decision, Steven. You get a say in this too."

"I do?"

You laugh a little at his confusion, "Yes. You do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that with everything that happened I... I'm trying to say that I'd understand if you didn't want me involved in this decision," he says, looking down at the floor to avoid your eyes.

"Steve, look at me," you begin, pausing until he looks back up at you, "I wouldn't leave this choice up to just me. Whatever decision we make has to work for both of us though."

He looks up at you with surprise etched all over his face, "Thank you, y/n. It's more than I deserve."

"Mhm, tell me about it," you sigh while still rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach, trying to ease the nausea.

He's silent, avoiding the dreaded breakup conversation. Luckily enough, neither of you are ready to have that discussion yet. He claps his hands together in his lap quietly and clears his throat to get rid of the silence.

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"No, not yet. I have to find a doctor. I'll ask Tony to make the call for me tomorrow."

"So, what do you wanna do?" he asks again, emphasizing the 'you,' "Have you thought about...you know?"

"The alternative? Yeah, I thought about it for a bit, but I think I wanna keep it. I've only known about the little guy for less than an hour and I'm already attached."

What you said was true, you did think about every possible alternative from abortion to adoption; but at some point on the way here, you'd decided on keeping it. You feel a bit of hope when you look down at your stomach. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting all your troubles. Though your smile is quickly replaced with a frown when you remember the situation at hand. You look up to lock eyes with him, seeing he's clearly hesitating to respond.

"But if you don't want this, I can raise him or her alone. Y'know, move out of town or move a few states away to be closer to family so there are no unwanted run-ins. The whole nine yards," you say softly, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.

"Oh, y/n," he mumbles, "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this- I didn't want any of this."

You take in his words, trying to make sense of them. You felt your heart beginning to break as he remained silent. How can he just give up so easily before it even gets hard? Not that you'd pressure him into raising a kid he didn't want, I mean you did give him the choice, but his words still come as a surprise.

"So, the whole nine yards it is then?"

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

“I need you to look at me and say it, please.”

Steve looked around the room, appearing as though he was about to cry. His eyes finally land on you and you swear there's bits of guilt and regret in them.

"I don't want this baby."

That was all you needed. Hearing him say the words to you only solidified that y/n l/n and Steve Rogers didn't stand another damn chance. You sniffled as you stood up, trying to conceal any glimpse of sadness he could possibly see in you. You make your way to the door and go to turn the handle only for him to start speaking and stop you in your tracks.

"Y/n. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't expecting any of this. I don't know what I want yet."

"Of course you do, Steven, you just said it," you say with a fake smile as you turn to look at him, "I'm not upset with you for not wanting this, but I'm disappointed that you're not the man I thought you were. If you change your mind, you know where to find me, but decide soon because I won't let you be in and out of our lives."

With that, you leave and quietly shut the door behind you.

The drive back to the tower is entirely too slow and painful. You slipped your shoes off once back inside the comfort of your room and made your way to the bathroom to run a bath. After sinking in the warm bubbles and water, you unlocked your phone to unblock Steve's number. You awaited a text as you bathed- a text that never came, that is. You felt a little silly for ever thinking he'd want this with you but brush the feeling off quickly as it makes you feel physically sick.

You dry off, slip into your favorite night clothes, then slip under your covers. After trying to fall asleep for four hours and either waking up after a few minutes or not being able to fall asleep at all, you text Bucky to see if he's awake. It's about 3 a.m., but he responds after only five minutes to tell you he's coming to your room. The fact that he knew you wanted him to come over without saying it had a smile spreading across your lips.

When he arrived, you hugged him tightly and let out a shaky breath you'd been holding. He pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a concerned expression painted on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, hands resting on your arms.

"I'm pregnant, Buck."

You laugh a little to hide the way your voice cracked but Bucky sees right through it. He frowns at the sight of you, taking in the dark bags under your eyes and your skin that was paler than your usual tone.

"Let's go sit down, yeah?" he smiles warmly.

The two of you sit on your bed in silence as you lay your head on his shoulder. You make small talk after a few minutes, Bucky mainly asking questions about what you plan to do and how you feel.

"I'm guessing you told Steve?" he inquires.

He feels you nod slowly against his shoulder and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"And how did he take it?"

You shrug before speaking, "It seemed like he wanted to be a part of it all at first...then he said he didn't want this, but then he said he wasn't sure."

"Huh," he sighs out of confusion, "You know I'm here for you though, right? Both of you are my best friends, no matter how stupid he's being."

"I know you are," you reply.

"I know it's early and all, but have you thought about if you want a girl or boy?" he asks cautiously, worried the topic might upset you, "If you keep it, that is," he quickly adds.

"Buck, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I went to Steve's to get his input, but I think I decided to keep it as soon as I found out about it. I hate Steve so much right now, but this baby is a piece of both of us. I can't bring myself to get rid of something so innocent just for being a part of him," you explain, "I know it's not that simple for other people, but I did want kids with him eventually. I'm not unhappy with the pregnancy, I'm unhappy with the circumstances. Boy or girl, I'll be overjoyed either way."

He smiles to himself briefly, "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? You'll be a wonderful mother, y/n, and I mean that."

As hard as he tries to come up with an explanation for his friend's odd behavior, he can't. He'd promised you that he wouldn't go digging for answers when you broke up, you'd told him you didn't care to know and that it wasn't his problem. You're his friend, so he respected that. But now? Now it wasn't just you that Steve was abandoning, which meant that now he had to have answers.

Your breathing slows after a little bit, a sign that he recognizes as you getting sleepy. Slowly, he lays down, cradling your body so that you lay down with him. He lets you rest your head on him as he strokes your hair back soothingly. He waits until he hears your soft snores to gently ease your head onto your pillow before getting off the bed. He'd decided that he was going to get answers, even if it was three-forty in the morning.

Back at the apartment, Steve had only moved once to turn off the lights, pour a glass of alcohol, and sit in your recliner. He would never say it now but he hated being alone in the apartment without you. This wasn't his home, and it never was, not without you there with him. The space that used to be filled with your laughter and your love now felt void of anything other than cold. He sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, as he did almost every night since you broke up.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. The timing of him getting a message was unusual given the late hour. He picked up the phone and saw it was from Bucky, he smiled softly in hopes that his friend would offer some sort of help. He was sadly mistaken.

Bucky: We need to talk.

Steve frowned at the cryptic message as he typed a response.

Steve: About what?

Bucky's reply was swift.

Bucky: You know exactly what.

A knock sounded at the door no more than ten minutes later. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever talking to he was about to get.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Bucky. As he walked in, the light from outside lit up his face and allowed Steve to see his expression of concern and irritation. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face Steve.

"I'm starting to worry you're turning into a vampire or something, punk. Why are you sitting with all the lights off again? Haven't we had this talk before?" he questions, flipping the overhead light on, "Have you been crying again?"

Steve groans and rubs his wet eyes with his free hand, "No," he lies.

His eyes narrow in Bucky's direction as he walks towards where he's sitting. Steve then brings the drink up to his lips to take a sip only to have it yanked away.

"Buck-"

"Now this is new, is this alcohol?" Bucky asks, bringing the glass up to his nose only to recoil at the scent, "Steve, oh my God, What is in this?"

"Whiskey, tequila, a little bit of everything. Well, everything she left here."

Bucky looks away, desperately trying to contain a laugh, "You can't even get drunk. What are you doing? What's the end goal here?"

"The taste helps me forget how big of an idiot I am," Steve confesses as he snatches his drink back, "It's like a punishment."

"Glad you know you're an idiot, it makes my job here easier."

"Did she send you over here," Steve asks, looking up at Bucky through his eyelashes.

"No, she didn't. But she told me what happened and I came here on my own," Bucky responds, "You know as well as I do that she can fight her own battles."

"Then why are you here?"

"To check on you. And like you said, you're an idiot. I'm here to figure out why you're being such an idiot, though. Whatever Steve you've been for the last four months isn't the Steve I know."

When he doesn't answer, Bucky continues talking, "I've let this go on for far too long. I should've asked when I noticed you were acting weird, but I chalked it up to how rough that last Hydra mission was. But this whole baby thing is the last straw, Steve. I've had to put up with your dumb decisions recently, I deserve an explanation. The woman carrying your child does more so, but we'll get to that."

Steve let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escaping the conversation. Bucky had always been a straightforward friend. For as long as they knew each other, he was never one to beat around the bush, and he wasn't about to start letting Steve get away with stuff now.

"I don't even know where to start," Steve admits, his voice laced with frustration.

He takes another sip of his drink, hoping it might give him the kick he needs to explain himself. His face turns up at the taste and Bucky tries yet again to conceal a laugh.

"Okay, enough of that," he says, taking the drink back out of Steve's hands.

Bucky crosses his arms and sits on the end of the couch closest to Steve, giving him a stern look, "How about you try starting with why you decided to walk away from her? She's the best thing that ever happened to you, Steve, we both know that."

Steve winces at his words. He knew Bucky was right, as he usually was, but facing the same truth every day didn't make it hurt any less. It actually hurt worse since he knew that this entire situation was his fault.

"So?" Bucky says, urging Steve to speak.

Bucky instinctively brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip. His expression turns from understanding to disgust as he spits the drink back into the cup.

Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"

"Think it was the feeling of the cup in my hand, not sure why I did that. Guess old habits do die hard," Bucky explains, "Anyways, get to the explaining."

"I... I don't know, Buck. I messed up, bad."

"We already know that, care to elaborate?" Bucky prodded.

"It wasn't up to me, Buck," Steve sighs, speaking again when he sees Bucky's confused look, "Remember that Hydra mission you were just talking about?"

taglist! @vicmc624 @tooruen @athenabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :) submissions and asks are now also open

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wwinterwitch · 1 year

Text

nothing compares | namor x fem!reader

summary: there's not really a plot, it's just filth

pairing: namor x human!fem!reader

word count: 1,8K

warnings/what to expect: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), grinding, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, fingering, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, kinda softdom!namor, established relationship, not explicit but reader is latina/has latin american roots, spoilers free

note: I just really needed to write something involving this painfully hot man or I would've combust. I hope you enjoy!

note 2: My fic used to include Namor talking in spanish but it's been edited out to be respectful of his background. I will keep the reader's expression in spanish tho because it's my own little way of celebrating my latine roots after watching the movie and I don't want my fic to lose that because it does mean a lot me.

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

There's nothing that could compare to this feeling. The sensation of his body against yours, his lips exploring your body with a devotion you've only seen in the way he makes love to you.

Everything's just perfect. From his teeth marking your neck to his hands gripping your hips just a little bit tighter whenever you pull his hair. From your fingers tracing down his firm back to his erection repeatedly rubbing against your soaked underwear.

He pulls away from your neck to meet your lips once again, practically melting into you as he leans impossibly closer, sharing a kiss so passionate you felt dizzy as your legs wrap around his hips to keep him as close as you possibly could.

A grunt left his lips when he moved his hips once again, his cock fully pressed to your clothed pussy. It was impossible to control himself as he started to move, trying to keep the slowest rhythm possible as he felt your wet underwear against him.

He moves back from the kiss, smirking when he realizes how you lean up in an attempt to continue kissing him. A hand reaches your neck to keep you in place just instants before he rocks his hips in one slow, sensual move, making you moan in response.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Namor says, his hand around your neck still.

"Missed you too...," you're able to say, a moan escaping your lips again when he moves again, "...so much."

"Yeah?" he asks with a smirk, enjoying seeing your desperation grow with each movement of his hips. You were only able to nod. "Tell me."

"I missed you so much...I was hoping you'll come to visit me soon. It's been so long, and I can't make myself cum the way you do...I need you, mi amor. Please..."

You could feel his grip on your neck tightening as you spoke, his eyes dark with desire and his cock twitching after your confession.

Encouraged by your words, he let go of your neck to grab both of your legs, moving them away from his body to spread them open again. His hands were resting on each of your knees before trailing down the inside of your things, eyes never leaving your face as he admired your reaction to his touch.

Namor takes your panties off in a rushed, determined move. He keeps his hands on your hips right after throwing the piece of clothing to the floor, moving down your body. His tongue licks up your belly before he moves further down.

You look down to find him already looking up, smiling like he won the biggest price before he licked a single strap up your folds, the contact of his tongue against your clit sending shivers down your spine, moaning softly. He continued to taste you with his tongue. At first he was very gentle, but then he started to move his tongue way faster, his eyes looking up at you while you continued to moan for him.

He had no mercy. Sucking on your clit as hard as he could, tongue occasionally teasing your entrance, the way he didn't care to be loud and messy...he was determined to make you cum as soon as possible.

And you could feel your orgasm approaching. The fact that he repeatedly looked up at you and the work he was doing with his skillful mouth were driving you to the edge.

You cum with a loud moan, Namor's arms hooking around your legs to keep you as still as possible while he continues. It's not like it was necessary for him to move back to breathe anyway.

Managing to stand up just enough to get a better look of him, you felt like you could cum again just because of this sight. Namor holding onto you and keeping your legs open for him, eyes closed as he enjoys savoring you, almost humming against you as he continues to eat you out like it's his favorite thing in the entire world.

It was a matter of time before you felt your second orgasm approaching. By the time it hits you, you collapse back on the bed as you feel Namor's grip on you tightening to keep you from closing your legs.

The fact that you just had two orgasms only encouraged him to continue his attack at the fastest speed he could possibly achieve, his mouth creating the filthiest sounds against your wet cunt.

You had to hold onto the sheets of your bed, feeling the tears in the corner of your eyes while he sucked on your clit. Your legs shake and your whole body spasms with your third orgasm, and you felt like crying out loud when you realized he's still not going to stop.

He gave you just a couple of seconds to relax, pulling his mouth away from you but quickly moving his hand to your pussy. The feeling of his thumb barely rubbing your clit made you tremble all over again, whimpering.

"Please...," you say. It was unclear to you if you were asking for a break or for him to put his fingers inside you already.

"Please what, my love?" he questions, mouth and chin all covered in your juices. The fact that he just didn't seem to care, not wanting to clean himself off after his attack on you was slowly driving you insane.

"I– I don't..." you attempt to say, whimpering once again. "Can't...think."

Namor gives you a quick and sympathetic "Aww" in a clearly teasing manner before leaning down so his entire body would be closer to you again. His fingers start exploring your folds until they're at your entrance, making you shudder again. "What's the matter? Can't think properly when I make love to you?"

You nod eagerly, whimpering against his lips when he's kissing you again with as much devotion and need as ever. As soon as you feel two of his fingers entering you, your arms wrap around his neck in a desperate attempt to just do something. He was fucking you stupid, barely making it possible for you to move or talk without him instructing you to.

His tongue explores your mouth as his fingers curl inside you, and the taste of your own arousal invading your mouth mixed with the way his fingers move in and out of your still sensitive core only makes your situation worse.

You were so dizzy you were practically his doll right now. He could move you around however he pleases and you won't dare to complain because everything he does to your body just feels too good.

Due to how sensitive your whole body was, and the fact that his fingers kept curling inside you with no intention of ever slowing down, it was inevitable that a fourth orgasm would flow across your entire body. It forces you to move your head to the side to escape his kiss, panting as he whispers praises to you against your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as his fingers are still buried deep inside you.

"You think you can take my cock now?" he asks in the sweetest tone, contrasting with the words he just spoke and the way he didn't want to give your body any rest.

He awaits for your answer while he fixes your messy hair, moving it away from your face before one of his hands holds onto your chin, looking down at you. "Yes, please," was your response, earning a smirk from him.

"Always so polite," he comments in a joking manner, secretly enjoying the way you'd always ask for him to do things to you...how you never care to beg for him. He'll never get enough of it.

His fingers finally slip out of you and he moves his hand up to your lips. You understood the message fairly quickly, licking his fingers clean while he observes you proudly. He then uses that same hand to stroke himself a few times before he starts entering you in the slowest way possible, wanting to enjoy the feeling of your walls stretching around every inch of him.

You hold onto him as he enters you, every inch that disappears inside of you makes you that much desperate, rocking your hips up until he starts to hold you tighter, keeping you in place. Despite being so sensitive, you needed him to move already.

He's finally completely inside of you, and he takes a moment to take in the feeling of his cock entirely buried deep inside before moving his hips back, his cock sliding out of your tight hole as both of you moan at the feeling of it. It didn't take long for him to lose all sense of self control, starting to rock his hips in a faster rhythm as you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Namor completely gives in to the feeling, fucking you in a fast yet incredibly loving manner, trying to show you how much he loves you while also making it clear to you the way your body drives him crazy. To have a literal God worshiping you in this way...it was impossible for you not to let that go to your head.

He's gripping your hips with such strength, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all around your neck, cock repeatedly hitting a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you...all of that is only contributing to your next orgasm rapidly approaching. You can tell he's close too, his grunts, praises and curses crashing into the skin of your neck like the waves were crashing against the shore the first time you met him.

"Fuck, just like that," he mutters close to your ear. "Keep squeezing me just like that," he added, the comment making you realize the way your walls are tightening around him as you're about to cum yet again thanks to him.

You finally cum with a loud call of his name, holding onto him for dear life as you spasm underneath him once again, tears falling from your eyes as you feel yourself in heaven for the fifth time. He keeps fucking you as you bite onto his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your sounds. Namor rocks his hips a few more times, his loudest grunt yet falling from his lips when he's filling you with his cum, giving a couple of hard, decisive thrusts to secure his cum inside you.

After a few seconds of entire bliss, you feel his fingers wiping your tears away before he once again makes sure to brush your hair away from your face. His eyes were looking down at you with such love, it was once again contrasting with the way he just fucked you. You run a hand up and down his arm affectionately in response, eagerly receiving his kiss when he leans down closer to you.

"You did so good for me," he praises you in a loving voice.

And as he continues to gently kiss your lips, cock still inside you and hands carefully roaming across your body, you once again could confirm that there is absolutely nothing in this world that could ever compare to this feeling. Absolutely no one could ever compare to Namor. You're entirely his, just like he's entirely at your mercy. You wouldn't have it any other way.

#namor x reader #namor #namor smut #black panther wakanda forever #black panther 2 #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #namor x fem!reader #tenoch huerta

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dragon-ascent · 5 months

Text

You're thirsty and Morax is dense.

★彡suggestive, dumdum Morax (he doesn’t understand human nuances yet), bit of unneeded comfort

When your beloved Lord Morax approaches you after a day-long outing, you grin to yourself and lean against a pillar. Tonight you crave your newlywed husband.

"Ah, my lord," you sigh, jutting your chest out as dramatically (and as sexily) as possible. "Have you come to indulge in me?"

You bite your lip in delight when you hear your beloved Morax chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Why, yes I have, my darling." He takes your hand and kisses it ever so tenderly it makes you want to melt right there.

But you're not done yet - you close your eyes and bemoan, "Oh my, in the middle of war?"

See, you're expecting him to say, "Of course, my love. My desires wait for nothing - and I could use a moment of respite in you," and then he'd sweep you away to his private chambers and make the most of the night.

Which is why your eyes snap open in shock when you hear him instead say, "Ah, you're right. My desires can wait, can they not?" He lets go of you, his expression hardening like stone. "There is yet much to be done this moon cycle. Once the dust settles, we shall enjoy ourselves thoroughly, hm?"

Uttering this, and planting a firm kiss on your forehead, Morax turns and leaves, leaving you standing there sputtering.

----

You two convene for dinner together later in the evening, and you smile to yourself, cheeks heating up as you get ready to seduce him. "All this food is lovely, but I was wondering if you were craving something even better..."

Raising a brow, Morax sets down his chalice of wine. "Oh? And what does my beloved propose?"

Fidgeting in your seat, you let out a coy, "How about having me?"

But instead of sweeping aside the empty dishes and spreading you out on the table for dessert, your husband only tilts his head in concern. "My love, I know you have had your qualms about marrying the Prime of Adepti, but I assure you I do not consume human flesh."

You shrivel up like a prune as he pets you, lamenting that you'd even entertain such a frightening thought, reassuring you that he would never harm you like that.

----

A more direct approach is in order - but surely you can still be poetic in your methods, no? You're now sprawled in the bed you share with Morax, wearing your best night-garments.

Your god finally arrives, smiling as he sees you lounging comfortably in bed. When he joins you there, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and purrs softly, enjoying your warmth. You run your hand through his silky hair.

You let him stay like this for a bit before you speak. "After countless vicious battles for dominion, perhaps you and I could engage in a battle more...passionate."

"Darling!" His head snaps up to look at you worriedly, horns nearly poking you in the eye. "What makes you think I would ever fight you?"

You blink. "Er...no, I meant that-"

Morax cups your face tenderly. "There shall never come a time where the two of us are on opposing sides. Wherever you go, I follow. Never shall an arrow of mine fly in your direction."

"No no, listen, I-"

He's having none of it - he pulls your head onto his lap and strokes softly. "My wedding vows included my oath to protect you. I intend to keep that oath, darling, so please, perish the thought of a battle between us."

"Actually I meant that-"

Morax shakes his head, eyes lowered in sorrow. "I hope this thought of yours has only just blossomed, and had not taken root fourteen moons ago on our first night together when you witnessed a portion of my divine strength-"

"Okay fine! My apologies! It was just a silly notion! How about you just make love to me?!" "Oh, of course. If only you had asked sooner."

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #zhongli x you #drabble #rex lapis #morax #suggestive

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Note

Could I have Halsin x afab!enby!reader smut with some breeding kink, please?

notes: darling you're so polite when you request smut, like you're ordering from a menu of course you can 😌

rating: E. This is filthy. Minors dni

pairing: halsin x reader

words: <1k

It feels like every aspect of your existence has been narrowed down to this point - here, now, speared on your druid’s cock.

Halsin is an attentive lover; he fucks you like it is his duty. You’re laid out on your back beneath him, candyfloss-brained and pliable like clay, every aspect of you his. He unmakes you with his touch, brings you to ecstasy over and over, content just to watch your pleasure - he told you once that you were nature’s most exquisite sight and, given the way he’s staring down at you now with pupils so wide that his irises are obscured, you might just be able to believe it.

“Ahh… Halsin…” you manage, pawing up at his thick chest with boneless fingers. He takes your hand in a firm, sweet embrace, raising it so he can kiss you on your wrist, your palm, your knuckles.

“My love. Perfect. I want you in every possible way.”

His eyes flash with a devilish delight, and in that moment you know what he’d ask of you. It’s something which you freely give.

“Halsin… put a baby in me…” you sigh, linking your ankles at the small of his back to drive his cock even deeper into you. He is thick, wonderfully so, and long too - he reaches further inside of you than anyone ever has before. You are full to the brim with Halsin, Halsin, Halsin; the warm rub of him driving you wild.

But you want to be overflowing.

When he hears those words stumble from your lips his thrusting goes erratic for a beat, you can feel him throb. He makes a low, bestial growl in the back of his throat. A primal noise, possessive.

“Hmm… If you ask me to do that, I will be unable to stop having you until I’m certain that you’re pregnant. I can barely keep my hands off of you anyway. but if you want me to give you a child you… there is a chance you won’t leave our bed until I can see how round you are.”

You moan at the idea of him keeping you in one place and pumping you so full of spend that your puffy hole is constantly dripping with it. That he has to bring you food and water to keep you contented because you’re so cock-drunk that you can’t move. No room for thoughts. Just open legs and willing cunt until you can feel your womb quicken with him.

“Do it, Halsin, fuck. Mark me as yours. Show the world who shares my bed every night. I want everyone to look at me and know what you’ve done…”

Another growl, this one louder, and marked with the snapping of his hips forward into you. The sounds of wetness coming from your coupling are lewd and gorgeous as he pounds into you over and over. You don’t think that you’ve ever been this wet.

His hand spreads out across the expanse of your stomach, warmth from his skin seeping into you. It is as if he is picturing his seed taking root inside of you. You are ripe, willing, and desperate for it, for him, and he is vicious about the idea of you swelling with a cub he breeds into you.

Hips move faster. You’re going to finish. He’s going to finish, and as the head of his cock bounces into the sweet spot against your walls you feel him come harder than he’s ever done before - he lets out a bitten-off roar as he spills, filling you over and over with his hot jets. As the inside of your cunt is coated you follow him over the precipice and experience an orgasm so intense that it feels as if your soul has left your body for a moment - but Halsin brings you back with a fierce kiss.

He continues to ride out his release inside of you, tender little rolls of his hips until he begins to soften. Even then he remains inside of you, connected in the most intimate of embraces, forehead resting against yours as the two of you breathe the same air.

“Gods,” you manage eventually, and Halsin laughs, low and gravelly.

“Oak Father preserve us all. You will be the end of me, you know.”

“Yes, and won’t it be fun?” you say with a cheeky grin. He groans.

“I don’t know if my old bones can take it.”

“Well, I believe in you. Fancy trying again? I want you to make good on your promise, you know, and the more we try the better our odds are…”

He lets out another low noise, and with glee you feel him harden again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @infinitely-kate @trappedinlimbo15 @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin x tav #halsin imagine #bg3 imagine #bg3 fic #request #my writing

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delirious-donna · 16 days

Text

Don’t Touch [Gojo Satoru]

an: since I reworked Nanami’s version of this (link here), it seemed only fair to give Gojo’s drabble the same treatment.

pairings: Gojo Satoru x female reader

warnings: sensory deprivation kinda (touch), reader is a tease, Satoru gets a lil subby (barely), NSFW throughout

Masterlist

Gojo Satoru was a beautiful man, a good man but a silly one too. If you levelled a challenge at him, especially one he felt certain he would win, then nothing would prevent him from accepting your terms. Would the overconfident sorcerer ever learn?

The pout decorating his lips was simply irresistible—dewy and perfectly kiss-swollen. Celestial blue eyes blink slowly, long white lashes brushing against his blush-tinted cheeks as you dip your head to suck that delicious bottom lip into your mouth once more.

You were naked from the waist down, tormenting the man below you with each languid roll of your hips. The friction from his straining zipper was more than enough to send tiny jolts of pleasure humming throughout your body, fissures of bliss erupting along your nerve endings, but it wasn’t what he wanted, and you knew it.

Satoru’s muscles tense and bulge all at once, the tendons in his neck strain from his desire to free his hands, and he could—in a heartbeat—but his desire to please overrides it.

It’s jarring experience. An alien sensation to the powerful man that is accustomed to being entirely in control of literally everything in his life. However, the truth aches in his pounding chest, his heart beating to a new song orchestrated by the woman he loves above all others. Satoru has been turned into putty by your sheer force of will, and worst of all, he likes it…

“I can feel you wriggling ‘toru. You know the deal,” you purred whilst your fingers card into his lustrous snow-white hair, twisting until you can coil around the roots and tug. Smiling when the breath in his throat catches.

His hands were practically numb from where they lay beneath his backside and you weren’t lying, they did twitch for release. Despite his insistence that you could lock him up if you really wanted, this was an endurance test for him, and not for a pair of cheap handcuffs or the tensile strength of a tie never worn.

“You’re the one not playing fair, princess, just sink onto me already.”

You chuckled at the desperation lacing his plea, petulance invading his tone only to be schooled into some semblance of obedience at the last second. Favouring to ignore his plight, you pressed wet kisses to his bare chest, sucking love bites into his collarbone and neck only to watch them bloom into purple brilliance. Of course, you paid extra attention to his rosy nipples, flicking the perky peaks with the tip of your tongue before offering a firm tug with your teeth.

His pectorals twitched and his head flopped back against the couch, the most desperately pitiful whimpers tumbled from his mouth with little restraint. Satoru’s hips arched up to remind you of what you were currently perched upon. His poor aching cock pulsed against his thigh, desperate for attention, desperate for any kind of touch. Anything was better than being trapped behind his pants, and if he couldn’t touch you then he definitely couldn’t touch himself…

Why had he agreed to this? Why had he grinned like a deviant little devil thinking he could best you when touching you was the highlight of his day, his life? Satoru panted through the myriad of his jumbled thoughts, his mind turbulent and disarrayed. He was being denied the pleasure of caressing your curves, of detailing the little marks that made you unique. He’d willingly accepted the worst form of torture.

“Why don’t you say please, ‘toru? If you ask me nicely, I might take pity and fuck myself on your beautiful cock, hm?”

As if to emphasise the point, your weight rises from his lap only to drop back down with force. A strangled grunt pulled from the depths of his chest in response, cheeks no longer pink but ruddy and sweating.

“Princess, babycakes… love of my life, please—I need you—need you so damn bad!”

You were good on your word. Humming in appreciation of his anguished but heartfelt plea, your hands work deftly to unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. The damp stain coating the front of his pants was impressive, slick coaxed from your core in hot need of relief that only Satoru could give to you.

The tip of his finally freed cock was an angry purple, slit oozing pearlescent precum and very sensitive to the lightest touch. He was long, curved and so deliciously thick near the base, you could practically feel the stretch before you even moved over him to notch at your fluttering pussy.

“This what you want, Satoru?”

He didn’t know if he’d be able to keep the no touching rule going when you sheathed yourself fully, moaning directly into his ear. The itch to grasp you by the hips and teach you a lesson for teasing him so mercilessly by forcing you up and down his dick until you were the whimpering mess was rampant.

In the end, he behaved—barely.

“Ah, fuck… I-I’ll get you… shit… back for this. See how you look with… oh my god… with my blindfold tied around your wrists!”

#delirious writes #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru smut

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denpa-dere · 26 days

Text

house arrest 5

afab!mc x belphie

description: NSFW. You are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? Belpharoo to the rescue!

warnings: breeding kink with talk scents/scenting, afab reader with she/her pronouns. dom/sub dynamics. Spoilers: choking.

tags: @love-and-fiction

|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) ||

What you needed was a distraction.

Belphie figured he could make that happen. He shot off a quick text letting you know to count to five, then book it. At the top of the stairs, he swooned.

It wasn't so bad. Half-consciousness allowed his body to fall limp enough to absorb the blows without taking too much damage. The scene proved dramatic, having the others at his side within moments.

He couldn't possibly go to RAD in this state. Please, Lucifer, have mercy? Let him stay home just this once to recuperate?

Despite leery side-eyes and a few biting comments mumbled under-breath, the baby of the family got his way. No funny business, he promised. He needed to rest.

He promised.

Lucifer stalked off, sure to chew a hole through the inside of his cheek all the way to school.

Puffed up on his victory, Belphegor practically skipped his way to your room.

___

“Ah, Belphie!” You greeted the seventh-born, “Thank you for covering for me.”

He closed the door behind him, “It wasn't easy. It hurt, actually. And you owe me.”

“I do,” You soothed, meeting him across the room. You gingerly cupped his face in your hands, “Don't think I forgot.”

He leaned into your touch and sighed, smiling dreamily up at you.

“Anything you want,” You breathed, taken in by dark doe eyes rimmed with deep purple.

He reached for your hand, dragging it across his cool flesh, coming to rest at the base of his throat. He cocked his head to the side and hummed, hoping you understood.

With trembling fingers, you slid your hands around to guide him by the neck into a firm kiss. He melted under your touch, allowing himself to be pulled with you; to collapse onto the bed, a heap of tangled limbs.

Belphie sighed your name as you nipped down his neck, featherlight touch drifting to his waist. You ghosted your thumbs over his hip bones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake.

“Oh I adore you,” you murmured against his forehead. You threaded a hand through his hair, gripping firmly at the roots. He whined at the pressure, tilting his head up, giving you access to the column of his throat. You sucked strawberry marks onto his milky skin, earning pretty whimpers to savor later in your memory.

Despite having the strength to snap you like a toothpick, Belphegor was something of a princess. A romantic at heart, he wanted nothing more than for you to choose him, over and over again. He bit his lip to stifle the sweet sounds threatening to spill from between them.

“Please,” He whined, “Stop teasing me.”

You had half a mind to put him in his place for even asking.

“Get your cock out,” You said, voice just breaking a whisper. His pupils dilated, fingers hooking in the waistband of his pants, shimmying the fabric down around his hips. He throbbed against your clothed body, already needy and leaking from his rosy tip.

You gracelessly shoved off your bottoms while he reached for you, desperate to melt together. You were going easy on him and he was losing his patience. Didn't you love him? Didn't you want to make him yours? Instead of voicing those thoughts, he nipped at your wrists, your hands planted on either side of his head.

“Behave,” You ordered, trying to hide your amusement. You never were good at that sort of thing.

You smelled so fucking good. Belphie had been safely sequestered away, content to sleep away this troublesome week. That was, until Beel had burst into their shared room carrying a bundle of your limp form, inoculating him with your heady scent. Ever since, the seventh-born’s dreams had been haunted by thoughts of you, you, and only you. It was humiliating– waking from naps with sticky sheets, a pillow clenched between his legs, his twin shooting him a piteous look that read: ‘I'm sorry. I should have shared.’

It was enough to drive a man mad.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, taking him in your warm grasp. A shiver rolled up his spine when your fingers curled around his length, coaxing a soft groan from the demon. He rocked his hips against you, smearing precum across your stomach in search of friction.

You raised up enough to angle his cock against your sex, slick from his adorable, needy display. You held him there, twitching against your slit, and waited.

“Please.”

There it was.

“Good boy,” Your praise shifted into a moan as you lowered down onto him. The stretch of your velvety walls had his eyes rolling back. Belphie groped at your thighs, your ass, your hips, eventually settling at your waist. Unable to hold himself back anymore, he set in at a feverish pace. He chewed his lip while he fucked you, hissing curses punctuated with high pitched moans.

You were starting to feel, maybe, just a little bit powerful.

You wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed.

Belphegor thrashed beneath you, eyes wild, and came harder than he ever had in his long, long life.

___

Clutched against a content, sleeping Belphie, you were faced with a new problem.

How were you supposed to get him out?

Before you could figure it out, your bedroom door clicked open.

#obey me smut #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #x reader #love & fiction ✦

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