#;; ME STANDING HERE WITH MY HANDS ON MY KNEES WEEPING

[kaerinio]

@messanique sent a super sweet thing and i'm crying: You always make my day brighter Luxx !! I love having you on my dash and interacting with you; you nourish my Dany love and keep reminding me why she's so special to me (while also developing her more completely and interestingly than the main books do). Also you are just !! The sweetest, kindest person ! You are always positive and passionate, and it is infectious. I hope 2024 treats you well and gently 💕💕💕

don't mind me, i'm just sitting here with tears in my eyes because this is honestly one of the sweetest things in the entire world! emily, i am so incredibly HONORED!!! 🥺🥺 and also, YOU NOURISH MY DANY LOVE, TOO??? she's our babygirl! 😭 and the fact that we can get so in-depth about her, the targaryens, their dynamics, and their would-be dynamics if rhaella and rhaegar survived is so special to me. everything involving you IS SO SPECIAL TO ME, OKAY! you bring such vibrance to every single muse you write that absolutely draws me in. i could go on and on for all eternity about just how much i admire how reflective you are when it comes to every single facet of your muses. you have this immense talent and spectacular ability to place us all in every single thing you write! and i am being so for real because !!!! THE WAY I CAN *SEE* EVERYTHING YOU DESCRIBE!! THE WAY I CAN *FEEL* EVERYTHING! ALL THE SENSATIONS ARE IN THE ROOM. but also, YOU, EMILY, ARE JUST ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL!! i need you to know that every single time i see you on the dash, i smile! 🥺 and every single time we chat, my heart warms!! your presence is a gift, and it is one that i am going to cherish forever and ever!!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

AND ALSO, I HOPE THAT 2K24 IS FILLED WITH ALL THE MOST AMAZING THINGS!! ALL THE JOY, ALL THE OPPORTUNITY, ALL THE PROSPERITY!! you deserve all the good!!💖💖

[sinofwriting]

Claiming - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic)

Words: 1,310 Summary: In a world where F1 drivers can claim someone as a wife while at a race, here is Charles' version. Note(s): DARK FIC, this is dark. Dubious Consent/Touching (not sexual), Reader was essentially kidnapped. I will be making other fics like this for a few other drivers where they claim a wife. And thank you 🦢 anon for this idea and all your thoughts! Edit: Takes place during/after Imola 2024

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She doesn’t want to sit on the bed. She doesn’t want to be in this room. She doesn’t want him touching her. But she doesn’t want to make him angry, fears what his reaction could be, what he could do to her. So she sits at the edge of the luxurious hotel bed. Her shoulders hunching, her hands gathered in her lap, her legs pressed painfully tight together.

She���s taking up as little space as she can, but he still sits right next to her, his thigh pressing against her and she has to resist flinching.

“You are so tense.” He murmurs, his voice practically caressing her ear. The sound of it makes her release a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. And in doing so she takes in a breath, nearly becoming dizzy at the perfect smell of his cologne. “I’m sorry.” She manages to say. He clicks his tongue, running a hand up and down her back. It’s supposed to be a soothing touch and she has to force herself not to tense further. “Don’t apologize, mon ange. Would a bath help?” She eagerly nods at the suggestion, wants to weep at the idea of it.

She needs a moment alone. Ever since she was taken to Ferrari’s garage, she’s had him right there by her, never more than an arms length away. She wants to sink into scalding water and let the pain of it distract her from what has happened.

“Please.” She whispers. He smiles, pleased, and she hates that she likes the look on him. “I’ll go get it started.” She wants to protest, but he’s pressing his lips to her forehead and then standing, striding over to the bathroom. And she remains frozen on the bed, even when she hears the sound of water rushing out and hitting the tub.

When Charles comes back, he’s shirtless and she makes a noise at the sight. He gives her another pleased smile. “I prefer my baths to be very hot, so if you’d like it to be cooler, you will have to wait a few minutes.” He tells her, gesturing for her to join him and she does, letting him guide her with a hand on the back into the bathroom. Stepping inside, she lets out a shaky breath. The entire mirror is steamed up and she can see how hot the water is in the large tub. “Thank you.” “Of course.” She waits for a moment for him to leave, but he just continues to look at her, eyes half lidded, lips ever so slightly parted as he leans against the bathroom counter.

She turns away from him, tears threatening to prick her eyes, and she forces herself to breath as she reaches for the hem of her polo. As soon as it’s pulled over her head, she nearly shakes. She wants to ask him to look away, to stop watching her undress, she can feel his eyes on her. She wants to drop to her knees and beg for him to come back when she’s fully naked. She’s never gotten undressed in front of anyone. It feels intimate to do so, it feels worse somehow for him to be watching her do this.

Her bra comes off next and she can hear the sound of his breathing pick up as it drops onto the floor, the skin of her back exposed to him. She takes her underwear and pants off at the same time, thankful when her socks come off as well.

She thinks she’s supposed to turn to him, to let him get a full look at her, but the bath is right there, calling her name, the water clear, no bath bomb or bubbles to hide anything. He could get a full look at her like that.

Stepping into the bath, she shudders at the feeling of near burning hot water. It laps around her and while she normally sinks into her baths, this time she eases herself down and into the water. Her eyes closing when she is fully in and laying down, the top of her neck even a little wet.

She almost forgets that he is there, but then a hand is caressing her shoulder and this time she can’t help her flinch. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes and she hates that it sounds sincere. “Scoot up for me?” Grabbing at the sill of the tub, she carefully pulls herself forward, stopping when he makes a noise. “Good girl.” He murmurs and suddenly the water rises against her and her eyes fly open when she feels the sensation of skin grazing her back and as she looks down, she sees legs on either side of her body just barely not touching her. Then hands are on her hips, gently guiding her back until her back is pressed against a naked chest and she can feel him against her. His hands move from her hips so he can wrap his arms around her.

He lets out a happy sound at contact. “Comfortable?” She forces herself to nod. “Good. Now just relax, mon ange. You’ll feel much better.”

—

She wakes up and Charles is still holding on to her, his grip tight but not bruising, so clearly keeping her there and she can’t help but cry.

She was his forever, he had claimed her, the paperwork probably already has been registered. She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her family. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind until now, but it does and she has to slap a hand over her mouth.

She was never going to see her mom, have her fuss over her. Her dad was never going to call her champ, she was never going to get to eat his food again. Her grandmother and her heart aches even more. She was never going to see her grandma again, feel her hand against her cheek as she looked in her eyes, making sure that when she said of course I’m happy that she actually was. She was never going to get the family dinners with so many things being passed around it made her dizzy. The shots that everyone took if they were old enough.

She doesn’t realize it, but her whole body is shaking and it wakes the man holding her.

“Mon ange,” his voice is thick with sleep and confusion and she holds her breath. “What’s the matter?” She doesn’t say anything, her body still shaking, but she hopes her lack of response will make him think that she’s asleep. It doesn’t, his hands move around her body until he easily can turn her so she’s facing him. “Oh,” his eyes are wide, voice mournful as he sees her tears. “What happened?” She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with tears in her eyes, hand still clamped over her mouth. His brows furrow and he moves her hand away from her mouth. “What is wrong? What has you crying?” “I’m never gonna see them.” The words come out and she’s gasping for breath and his brows furrow more. “Who, mon ange?” “My family. I’m never going to see my mom or my dad. My grandma, my cousins, my aunts and uncles. I’m never going to see any of them again.” She’s sobbing and she hates that when he runs a hand over her back, trying to calm her before urging her to press her face into his chest, she does. “Of course you will.” He finally says when she’s calmed a little. The words have her pulling back, silent as she stares at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, running a finger beneath her eye to get rid of the tears still clinging there. “Of course you will see them again. They make you happy and I want to know my in-laws, after all.”

[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[prettyboykatsuki]

on deaths door | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dark content ahead, afab + gender neutral reader, dark comedy / black comedy, attempts of suicide, the use of the word rapist in text, mentions of self-harm scars, penetration, intense but not rough, gojo is doting, no curses au, ceo!gojo 18+

note: this fic is mostly intended to be a dark comedy and have an unserious nature. it is very absurdist and it makes light of both suicide and assault. please proceed carefully if you find this might be triggering to you.

PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED.

✮ wc ; 2.6k

✮ a/n ; i actually really really enjoyed writing this and would love to expand on it potentially. KJSDFJSKD.

reader has been through a lot so they are super nonchalant about everything just as a precaution

"Uwah," A voice startles you from your place on the roof. You gasp, amidst tears and sobs from shock. "Are you about to kill yourself?"

You whip your head around to see who could be beside you at this hour. It's a deliberately obscure location, too so it's extra weird. You were hoping to die in peace in a place where it'd be hard to find you, after all.

But there's a strange man interrupting your plans. Very strange. He's speaking Japanese rather clearly but his hair is a shock of white and his eyes are blues as saphhires. Despite the situation, his voice is light and cheerful - almost amused.

You can't tell if he's just a figment of your imagination. He's so unusual it stuns you out of your tears. You can't find your voice to respond for a moment.

"Yes," You reply, unsure of what else to say. He smiles at you.

"Hm." He looks contemplative. "Well... if you don't want it, can I have it?"

You stare on, confused.

He grins. "Your life, I mean. Can I buy it off you?"

Starting to wonder if you've already died, you stretch your hands up to wipe the tears off of your face just to see if any of it is real. The touch makes it gasp. You're definitely still alive. So, that means this strange man is also real and asking to buy your life.

"What?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not a cheapskate or anything, the price will be fair." He walks closer to you from where you've been standing all this time. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt, picking you up and setting you down further away from the ledge with a harsh yank.

Like a kitten whose mother is dragging it by the nape, you fumble onto the rooftop concrete. As soon as you're moved, you drop down to your knees - unable to find anymore strength.

"Are you... trying to traffick me?" Your voice is coarse in your reply as you stare up. It's a genuine question. You aren't sure what else to call this. The strange, unusual man just laughs in your face.

"Mm, well - not really. Though, if you say yes I'll make good use of you in all ways." The last part makes your skin crawl a little. "You were weeping so pitifully when I came up here... super pathetic. I just thought it'd be a waste if you died since I got to see something interesting."

There's something really wrong with this guy, you think. But this is such a common thing in your life, you aren't sure how shocked you should be.

There's also something equally wrong with you, because you're so fucked up - you're considering it. If he paid you enough to cover all of your debts, you could cut ties with all the bullshit your fathers debt has put you through. You could run away. Not there's anywhere for you, even after that. But at least you'd be unshackled from what makes you most miserable.

You don't want your life, but if this guy wants it so bad then...

"...How much will you pay me?"

His eyes light up when you ask this and it unsettles you further. "As much as you want. And you'd have to live with me at my beck and call."

"Like a pet." You reply easily.

Instead of denying it, he snaps his fingers and grins. "Exactly! Or maybe more like a plush toy that I take every where?"

Either way, you're not any kind of human. You're barely human now though with how much you work, so you aren't sure it makes a difference. You stare at him. And he looks back at you with a smile - all pearly white pristine teeth.

Who cares anymore, anyway? Even if he were to mistreat you, you're not sure you'd even feel it. It's all numb. He can have your life if it means you can escape what you're running from.

He looks rich, so maybe.

"Don't worry," He hums, and he reaches over to pat your head while your face is covered in tears. You don't flinch for some reason. "I don't like breaking things I've bought unnecessarily."

Something is wrong with you. Your self preservation is in total fucking tatters. But still, you want to say so you do. Maybe it's the absurdity, or the fact you truly don't have anything to lose. Nothing could make your misfortune any worse.

You sniffle and shake your head. He's dangerous and weird, but at least you could pay off your debts.

"Okay," You say weakly.

His smile gets impossibly wide.

You're wonder if you'll regret your decision.

__

He's filthy rich.

You should've expected that. You did, kinda. Because only rich people would think to do or ask something so absurd like ask to buy another persons life. Still, he had a driver waiting for him downstairs and his car is definitely a sports care. A McLaren, you think. One of the places you catered for ages ago was full of rich people with flashy cars and you remembered some of them.

He sits with you uncomfortably close in the back seat but doesn't speak to you at all during the ride. Not until you arrive at the destination, which is a giant building where the strange man certainly lives.

The driver (named Ichiji) calls the strange man Gojo-sama, which makes you feel extremely on edge. They whisper about something when you're out of ear shot, and Ichiji gives you a sorrowful look that you can't place.

The name Gojo is familiar to you, but you aren't sure where you've heard it.

After taking a long elevator ride to one of the upper floors, you end up in the strange mans condo. When you get there, he tells you take off your shoes and gives you nice slippers.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says, still frivolous and speaking to you in what feels like a foreign tongue. "And also yours. I'll set you up in the guest room later, but you'll be keeping my bed warm mostly so keep that in mind."

The size of the place is absurd and so is the decor. What have you gotten yourself into? You must've gone insane. You're too afraid to touch anything.

"Am I like... a sex slave?" You ask curiously.

He frowns at you. "You make me sound like some kind of rapist. I guess now that I own you....it might make me one... but you agreed to come here so don't be like that!!" He huffs, childishly.

His response is somewhat incomprehensible to you. He's stranger by the minute and completely tactless - but for some reason, it's hard to distrust him. He doesn't raise any immediate red flags aside from being unusual.

You almost want to say it wouldn't matter if he was, as long as he pays you but decide not too.

"Okay. Do you want me to take my clothes off?" You reply, nonchalant. He stares at you.

"...I know your heads pretty fucked up, but don't you think you're being too blase about all this?"

Your brow furrows. A weird response for a guy who willingly understands this is a less than ethical situation "Would... you prefer I struggle and refuse you? Is that your fetish?"

"No! Well..." You look at him flatly as he thinks on it, almost blushing at the thought. You make a face of disgust "Not in this case, alright! It's just too pitiful and I'm not that type really.... Be more cautious."

"But you were planning to fuck me from the start, right? Or something."

He nods. "Well, yes. As a way to earn your living and for me get my urges out whenever. Finding people to have sex with is a hassle."

You shrug.

"Right. I can cook and clean too. I've done pretty much every job you can think of it,"

He waves a hand at you. "We can discuss it later." He puts a hand in his necktie and pulls on with a small smile. "Right now, I want to test out my new toy so..."

You should feel more disgusted by how he refers to you, but you don't have it in yourself.

"Can I shower first?"

He looks surprised but nods. "Uh-huh. Just wear one of my shirts when you come out. Everything else is in the bathroom. It's upstairs, first door on your left."

You stand to your feet, nodding.

__

It takes you ten minutes to figure out how the shower works.

His shower is nice. The whole place is nice. Nicer than any shithole you've ever lived in. He has a lot of nice bath products, though you aren't sure how you feel about smelling like him since you're borrowing his.

You examine your body a bit in the shower, looking at old scars as you wash and rub yourself clean. Thankfully, you gave yourself a trim downstairs not long ago.

It's embarrassing in retrospect but you've not had much of a choice in the first place. You're sensitive, unsure of the last time you've touched yourself given how much you work. You think of your job and feel guilty for how you're going to miss it. But you recall that you were preparing to die not even two hours ago and feel less bad.

You whimper a little as you finger yourself open under the water - getting wet easier than you thought. You have to lean against the wall, but with enough coaxing you get three fingers in. You're still horny when you shut the water off and step out.

You dry yourself and put on lotion - staring in the mirror. As told you borrow one of his shirts, but it's too big on you and you can see your nipples too clearly which makes you embarrassed.

You reason you're about to go fuck a stranger anyway, and decide to step out right after.

__

You decide against wearing underwear since his shirt fits on you like a dress, but regret when you come back down stairs feeling aware of the breeze on your went cunt.

He's sitting on the couch with his legs spread, dress shirt unbuttoned but still in his clothes. He hears you before he sees you, eyes widening. You suddenly get self-conscious under the weight of his stare.

"Better than I thought," Is his only assessment. Your skin grows hot.

He beckons you over to him and you go, unsure of what to do until he pulls you into his lap. Forcing you to straddle him, he wastes no time in feeling you up. His hands at your waist and chest. His face lights up in pure amusement when he sees you bare underneath.

He stares at your pussy for a long time.

"It's good," He hums, his hands brushing against it. Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal, a pathetic moan leaving your lips that makes him laugh. "Pretty."

You don't have anything to say to that so you keep quiet. Gojo slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt to asses your wetness, surprised surely by how wet it is. Without warning, he plunges a finger in. He looks up at your face, your hand covering your mouth so you don't moan.

"So wet," His voice can't contain his amusement. "What's this?"

"I was," You shiver half-way through as he plunges in another finger and it goes in smoothly. "I p-prepared in the shower and masturbated. I thought you'd just want to stick it in and I didn't want it to hurt.

"Haah," His voice is sharp, suddenly breathy. Something hard and big presses up against your leg. "You're talented in seducing me. I'm not so ungentlemanly, but I'll let it go this time, alright?"

You nod. He uses a sticky hand to unbutton his slacks and push his boxers away. You gasp at the size of his cock. You're not a virgin exactly, but you haven't had sex with anyone this big ever. He chuckles a little, pressing the head of his cock against your stomach and cunt as if measuring it up to you.

More wetness pulses, shame filling you - because you're almost excited to be fucking this strange man you've only met today. Weirdly, you don't feel unsafe around him. Your eyes glass over from lust.

He sticks his fingers in your mouth and you suck automatically, instinctively. His smile is predatory all of a sudden, teeth glimmering.

"So obedient," He says, sharply. "Ah, I have a good eye. It really would've been such a waste."

You're content to throw yourself at him, chasing the pleasure. His fingers taste of salt and skin, making you want something else entirely. It's not long before he pulls away though, wrapping his hand around his shaft and making it shiny. You blink down at where he fists his cock - your spine tingling at the sight.

"Look at you," He mutters, amused. "Do you always get this excited? Is it normal for you to fuck strange men or am I special?"

You shake your head. "It's only been two people."

"Then I am special," He replies. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his cock pressing against your hole - fluttering. "We have good compatibility."

Before you can say a word, you feel his length push inside of you in one swift motion and gasp. It's so big, so impossibly big - and even with how much you stretched, there's a touch of resistance that's making your entire lower half feel like it's jelly. Almost numb from the sensation. Buzzing from adrenaline and want.

You feel full. In your stomach, in your chest - your whole body feel complete. When you manage to open your eyes, you look at Gojo and find yourself taken aback. His hair is pushed back from his hand and he looks... different. He's handsome now that you realize. His face looks...pleased.

You talk before you can think about it.

"Do I feel good?"

He laughs sweetly, before pressing a kiss to your temple that feels to affectionate for people who barely know each other.

"Uh-huh," He says. His hands are strong, tight on your ass as he bucks up into you - causing you to collapse forward. The pleasure makes you shake, sensitivity through the roof. "Feel so good. Hahaha, how lucky."

You cling onto Gojo's shoulder and bury your face into his neck. He doesn't stop you. A large hand comes around the back of your head - the other one at your hips as he thrusts up into you with alarming force and precision. He feels so good it's a little scary, and you can't keep the noises from slipping out. You moan and whine each time the tip rubs against you inside, soft walls barely able to accommodate the size.

Your body feels hot everywhere he touches. It's been so long and Gojo is so careful but so intense. His expensive dress shirt rubs up against your nipples each time he moves. It's so good, so good - makes you want to cry.

"You're so sensitive." He laughs against your shoulder. "Gripping so tight every time I move. Do you want to cum so bad?"

"Yes," The words are a sob. Just a little more.

"Uh-huh. Tell me where to touch you. How should I make you cum."

You're too shamelessly pent up to feel shy anymore. "Touch my c-clit, please, please."

"Got it, got it - don't cry."

Gojo listens to you well. Thick fingers and an angled hand find your clit with ease as he bounces you on his cock with no regard. Your eyes roll back instantly, immediately - as an orgasm washes over your entire body. Back arching, you cum hard around the base of his cock - but Gojo just keeps fucking you through it. He doesn't stop even when you come down, only moves you both so you're laying on the couch on your back.

He kisses you then, and you meet his mouth with sloppy tears running down your face from the pleasure.

"Let's see what your stamina is like, yeah? See if you can keep up with me."

__

He fucks you unconscious.

Essentially. Though you take with enthusiasm even during your exhaustion because the sex is phenomenal - you have no idea when you stop.

You wake up in a bed, and you wake up completely clean. You don't know whose bed, but there's a large figure besides you. Half-asleep and fully exhausted, you feel shy thinking about the fact he probably bathed and dressed you while you were out.

What a strange man, you think - to do that.

He's talking to someone on the phone. You don't really make out much of the words, though you do hear your name in bits and pieces.

"...A college student.......- young then -...... open a bank account for.... - debt...- pay it all off before it becomes annoying.... look into -."

You shift under your blankets half asleep. A hand comes up on top of your head on the pillow, pushing hair from your face.

"Did I wake you?" His expression is hard to read in the dark with your eyes barely open. "Sorry. Almost done. Go back to sleep."

So you do, because you can't find strength to do much else.

The bed is warm, but your sure the heat you feel is from the strong, gentle head petting your head as you rest.

[dxckgrxsonx]

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

**

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

**

[zablife]

Tommy's Obsession

A/N: I had a thought about Tommy's pref for long hair and the kink that develops from it after revisiting this blurb. I hope you enjoy my filthy musings. 🔞

Sitting at Tommy’s side you place your cheek to his knee, feeling his tweed trousers scratch against your soft cheek. His hand caresses the top of your head gently as he sips his whisky, the light from the fire illuminating you both in the darkness of his office. The day has been long and the tasks endless, but here in this room he can relax with you. He knows you're loyal and devoted, his completely.

Knowing how much he needed this, you readied yourself the moment you heard his car approach. You removed the numerous pins from your hair, allowing your glossy locks to cascade over your shoulders in subtle welcome. When Tommy saw you standing before him like a vision he breathed a sigh of relief, crossing the room to capture you in his arms and breathe in the scent of your perfume. The intoxicating aroma enveloped him as the curtain of your hair drew around him, inviting a peaceful solitude. It didn’t take long to unwind from the day after that, moving to the sofa wordlessly with crystal tumbler in hand.

Brushing against him lovingly was where you felt most safe and Tommy well served, but not yet satisfied. A groan released from his throat told you all you needed to know of his slight discomfort and you moved from his knee to free him from the confines of his tightening trousers. The clink of his belt was mirrored by the ice cubes in his glass as he gazed down at you adoringly. 

He gulped suddenly at the rush of cool air against his thighs as you slid the thick material of his trousers from his waist and shimmied them down his legs, placing open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin you could find. “Tommy, tell me what you need,” you whispered against his bulge as you returned to him, laying your hair across one broad thigh.

Hand returning to the crown of your head, his fingers massaged your scalp lightly. You heard a moan as he began to tug at your roots and you inhaled sharply at the wet patch that appeared in his pants by your open mouth. Tongue darting out to swipe over his weeping tip, you sucked gently through the thin fabric, desperate for a taste of him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he exhaled on a shaky breath, hand lowering to cup your chin. He swiped his thumb across your lower lip to smear the saliva that had gathered, a chuckle escaping his lips at your eagerness. Quickly ridding himself of his shorts, he captured your small hand in his, guiding you to stroke him languidly. Your teeth caught your plump lower lip as you watched him instruct you, silken hair falling forward onto his fist.

A primal grunt issued forth as Tommy felt your locks caress his calloused hand. In one deft movement, he captured a swath of your hair and wrapped it around his hardness, feeling the satiny luxury slide against him, he seemed to melt. “Not hurting you am I?” he asked breathlessly.

Though he tugged on your roots, it was no different from your usual lovemaking and you sought to reassure him, intrigued to see what he might do next. “No, it’s alright,” you whispered, stroking over his hand gently. You watched intently as Tommy took control of the movements, shifting your hand to cup his balls as he tightened the hold your tresses had on his throbbing cock. Taking himself in hand, he pumped harder, curses falling from his lips with every touch of his fingertips against your silken threads.

“Oh, fuck, Y/n. M close,” Tommy panted, the tip of his tongue wetting his parched lips. 

“Cum for me, Tommy,” you begged, tilting your head to look up at him with doe eyes, tongue outstretched in wanting desire. That was all it took for Tommy to unravel before you, desperately clutching your face in his hand as he spilled inside your warm, waiting mouth. You closed your eyes, humming in satisfaction as you swallowed every drop, feeling his fingertips slowly unwind your locks from his softening cock. 

You giggled as you pulled back from him, wiping the back of your mouth with a proud smile. Tommy pulled you up to sit beside him, running his hands through your hair as he kissed you full. He wouldn’t be finished with you until he’d bathed you, washing your hair and helping you comb it out later at your dressing table, then plaiting it in a long braid down your back. It was a ritual you’d come to enjoy for the comfort and safety, but also for the promise of tomorrow. He’d wake you in the morning with a harsh tug, pulling you down onto his cock as he asked who you belonged to. 

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

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[lovebugism]

congrats on one year of your blog!!

for your one year celebration, could you write something with the prompt

“you showed up at my door of all place?”

“trust me it wasn’t my first choice either.”

with steve perhaps? maybe he’s injured (because when isn’t he) and has no one else to turn to but the reader??

tysm lovie! hope you like it :D — steve seeks comfort in you, his rival since high school, a week after fighting vecna (enemies in love, hurt/comfort, post st4, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve’s stitches start weeping a week after the brawl with Vecna — the ones you’d sewn along his ribcage when a gang of demobats made a feast of him. 

He’s gotten so numb to the pain (the constant, never-ending, three years of nonstop pain) that he doesn’t realize his wound has torn open again. Not until his shirt starts sticking abnormally wet to his skin. He looks down, notices the dark red patch blooming on the gray fabric, and then feels the distant stinging of the week-old bite.

Most of them have healed or are starting to. They’ve turned pink and marred over, unlikely to fade. But there’s one gash that refuses to mend, and he’s starting to think it might be some kind of bad omen. Like the constantly knicked sutures are some kind of prophetic telling of an undone fight and not just a consequence of his restlessness.

He thinks of you first, anyhow. Before a solution or a way to dull the pain. He thinks of you and your gentle hands and how you were the only person he’d let touch him after coming back from the Upside Down. 

Steve drives to Forest Hills and ascends the rickety porch of your trailer even though he knows it’s 2 a.m. He knocks at the paint-chipped entrance even though he knows Eddie only lives four doors down. Max lives across the way from Eddie, and he knows that, too. He could go just about anywhere, he figures, but he’s here — on the steps of the girl who couldn’t stand him in high school.

You answer the door much quicker than he anticipated. Ten seconds after he knocks, you stand before him with wet hair and no pants. The damp strands drip onto the oversized shirt you wear. The sleeves of the old thing hang low off your arms, the hem of it falling just above your knees.

You don’t look sleepy despite the early hours of the morning. Tired, maybe, but not sleepy. “Steve?” you say, so suddenly alert at the sight of him. Your eyes, lined with a sleep you haven’t gotten in days, go wide with distant horror. “What happened? Are you okay? Did someone die?”

You ask him all this before he’s said a single word. Good questions when you live in a town like this one, when you’ve seen the things you’ve seen.

“Nothing. Everyone’s fine,” Steve answers in a monotone, still gripping his side with his opposite hand. “My stitches just ripped.”

You blink rapidly at him, trying to clear the daze of exhaustion and the subtle shock of seeing him. “Stitches— What?”

He pulls back his hand, the palm of it now blotched pink. There’s one large circle of deep brown blood staining his shirt and two more tiny patches just below it. “I’m bleeding,” he tells you, as if it isn’t obvious now. “My stitches pulled.”

Your gaping gaze flits from his freshly opened wound to the annoyed look on his chiseled face. His pale features glow amber beneath the buzzing porch light. “And you showed up to my door, of all places?”

“Trust me. It wasn’t my first choice either.” He clutches his side again and slides past you in the doorway, walking into your trailer, mostly uninvited. 

He knows your parents aren’t around. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been able to bond over. You grew up mostly alone and learned to raise yourselves accordingly. So it’s not totally surprising to find your trailer dripping with girlhood — tiny trinkets, movie posters, half-alive plants, and vibrant colors. More of a home than his empty mansion ever was.

“Why don’t you just go to the E.R.?” you ask and shut the door behind you. You have to lean your body weight against it and press really hard — or else it won’t close fully, and the wind kicks it open while you’re sleeping, and you wake up to a family of raccoons ravaging the candy bowl on your coffee table.

Steve huffs and sits on your grass-green couch, face scrunching at the distant stinging along his ribcage. “Because I don’t know how to tell people that potentially rabid demobats took a pound of flesh outta me,” he sasses.

You shake your head. “If you get blood on my sofa, Harrington, I swear to god…” you mumble and sit down beside him. 

You lift the hem of his shirt to assess the damage, knuckles skimming warm along his golden side.

Most of the bites scattered along his ribs are healing now. They’re small and shallow and turning slowly pink instead of scarlet red. But there’s one still pulsing crimson, the only one deep enough to need stitches. The only one refusing to heal. 

The sight of the raw, throbbing wound makes your stomach writhe. You remember pulling the stubborn demobat off of him by its tail. You feel the sting of his pain even now, like it’s your own.

Steve watches your face the whole time. He decides to base his pain on how you look at him, whether you shrug it off or grimace in disgust. You do neither. Your eyes dart over his skin, glimmering with concentration, as your fingers brush his aching side with a gentleness he didn’t think was possible.

His brows pinch at your lack of response. He tilts his chin to his chest and ducks his gaze to look at you, honey eyes eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it bad?”

“Well… It’s not good,” you conclude after a few moments.

“That’s such a non-answer,” he scoffs, dropping his head to the back of the couch to watch you walk into the kitchen. 

You disappear behind a wall for a few moments. The distant clattering of something, muffled as you dig inside cabinets, fills the empty trailer. 

You’re back in thirty seconds, tops, with the first aid kit you’ve been a stickler about keeping restocked. ‘Cause Steve isn’t your first patient since coming back home. He’s not your second, either. 

It was Eddie first, for his own demobat bites, and then Lucas when the cut along his swollen cheek split open again.

You’re not cut out for any of it. Not professionally, anyway. You only know how to do sutures because of Mr. Mundy’s ninth-grade health class.

You return to Steve’s side and begin to clean up the bite, lest an infection spread and Vecna take him out from beyond the grave. 

The burn of the alcohol makes him wince. “Ow,” Steve whispers under his breath, a subtle pout scrunching his features.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you laugh.

“I’m injured— You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“You’ve been through three separate concussions and a thousand demobat bites. I think you can handle a little sting, Harrington.”

Steve tilts his cheek to his shoulder, squinting his twinkling eyes and flashing you a lopsided smile. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing your bedside manner is— ow!”

You start stitching him up without warning. You make it look easy despite having no real idea what you’re doing. Steve figures it’s because you’re a natural at taking care of people. Sometimes he thinks that’s the only reason all of you managed to make it out of the Upside Down in the first place.

“All done,” you murmur after you’ve knotted the last stitch.

“Thanks…” He tries to sit up again. The sting hasn’t yet left him. It’s less of a pain now, and more of a  warning — the thin sutures screaming as they threaten to snap.

“If you don’t move around so much, they won’t pull. Again.”

“Is that the rule?” he teases.

“Yeah. That’s the rule— the don’t be stupid rule.”

Steve takes a sharp breath in and rises. He’s prepared for the ache, so it burns less this time. He sees you reach for him in the corner of his eye, hands darting out to help him and then shooting down again when you decide against it. 

He wouldn’t have minded if you had. He would’ve made fun of you for it, obviously, but he wouldn’t have minded.

He’s been missing the warmth of your touch more and more since the Upside Down — back when he laid mostly limp on the arid ground of a desolate land, when you cradled his body to shield him from the bats flying overhead. 

He stopped feeling scared when you held him. He thought it was because he was dying, but now he knows it was because of you. The healing in your touch. It’s like the amber glow of streetlamps in the dead of night, or sunsets that paint the whole world pink. Being touched by you is like dancing in summer rain and running through a field of wildflowers.

“Sorry, for uh— for keeping you up,” Steve apologizes and inches towards the door.

You follow close behind him, with an urgency that borders between letting him out and keeping him in. “It’s— It’s fine,” you stammer, then laugh at yourself. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Steve asks, an inquisitive swirl to his scruffy features.

He turns around to face you more, his sneakers melting into the plush of your rug. Your hand gets clammy and tightens around the rusted doorknob when he looks down at you — with his eyes made of velvet and his mouth made of flower petals. His face is so hardened, but he looks at you so softly anyway.

“No,” you confess with a soft shrug. “I mean— after everything, I don’t know how anyone is. I was with Eddie earlier, and the fucker was passed out before ten.”

Steve breathes a sharp laugh through his nose. His plush lips curl into a crooked smile. “He deserves the sleep, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“And so do you.”

“I know,” you grin, equal parts bitter and genuine. “But I’m not getting any.”

“Me neither,” Steve confesses, exhaling so deep it makes his chest deflate.

The two of you linger in place for a long, long time. Both of your mouths curl to say the same things — let’s grieve together, let’s wait for the sun to rise so the nightmares will pass — but neither of you is brave enough to say them out loud.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve nods, finally.

You wrench open the door for him, pulling extra hard when it jams. “The next time you pull your stitches?” you joke, smiling like you’re not grieved to watch him walk into the empty night alone.

Steve grins like he’s not mourning, too. “Probably,” he scoffs.

Maybe before that, he hopes, healed again as he walks to his car. Maybe I’ll be brave enough soon.

[chixkencxrry]

crazy, crazy for loving you

Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)

MINORS DNI

Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!

When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.

But, God – God, did you wish it was. 

So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 

Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 

Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 

Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 

When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 

“Y/N?”

The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.

“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”

“You don’t have to.”

I died when you did.

“I’m right here, Y/N.”

“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”

A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 

It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 

When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 

“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 

“He tried to make me forget.”

Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”

“If I sleep, I forget him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 

The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”

Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.

For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.

***

Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 

You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.

He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.

It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!

 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 

Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.

His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 

Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”

“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.

“You get that for free.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”

“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.

“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”

That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 

***

You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 

Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 

She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 

You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 

Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 

Foolish boy.

If only he knew what you had in store for him. 

***

Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 

One minute left.

He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 

“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”

When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”

“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.

That made him excited. 

“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”

He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”

You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 

Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 

“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 

Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”

“I’m dandy, princesa.”

A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”

He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 

His patience wore thin but he maintained. 

The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.

“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”

Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”

You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 

He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 

You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 

Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 

His own name. 

“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 

The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.

Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?

***

Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 

You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 

“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”

Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”

“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”

“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.

The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”

He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 

You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”

“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”

That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”

He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 

“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.

He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 

He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. “Tell me this is real.”

Oh.

You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”

His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 

Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 

He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”

He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 

Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 

“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 

“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”

You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?

“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”

His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.

***

Was this heaven?

Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.

“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”

You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”

“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”

He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”

Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”

You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 

When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”

“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 

 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”

Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”

“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”

“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.

You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”

“He was being a little too friendly.” 

“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.

“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”

“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”

You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”

Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 

MASTERLIST

I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.

[anisangeldust]

Office hours (Pt. 2) 𝜗𝜚⋆

Pt 1 here!!

Read Pt 1 for context and warnings! (It’s just smut, all this part is is just smut)

He should’ve been horrified, yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel but an ounce of shame when the object of his greatest desires was standing in front of him. Alone.

Slowly, he watched as you closed the door and locked it, maintaining eyes contact with him the whole time. “Professor Skywalker” you mumbled out, batting your lashes at him while you walked toward his desk.

Anakin was not going to let this golden opportunity slip out of his grasp, he couldn’t let you slither away, not after the sheer amount of time he’s been pinning after you. He took his hand off of his hard cock and gestured you over oath two fingers.

“Do you want this?” He grumbled out, though he knew the answer. A simple nod of your head and he was taking hold of your jaw “then show me baby” he cooed then pushed you on your knees

You eagerly took his leaking cock into your mouth, earning a lewd groan and one of his big, calloused hand on the back of your head; pushing you down as tears pricked in your waterline.

“Yeah? So good f’me, choking on your favorite professor. Isn’t that right? Such a slut for my cock.” He growls through gritted teeth as he pushes your head farther down on his dick. “So fucking good baby girl, so hot on your knees” he groans.

The sounds you’re making as he uses you are lewd, you’re choking on his cock like it’s the first time you’ve ever given someone head, but to be fair, Anakin had a massive cock.

“I’m gonna cum, and—fuck—you’re gonna swallow it all like a good slut. Okay?” He hissed, wiping the tears from your waterline with his thumb.

Allowing you a moment to nod, he ran his big hands through your soft hair and groaned “suck a good girl, so good at sucking cock” he purred out before starting to push your face further down his fat dick.

It wasn’t long before he was tensing his thighs and cumming down your throat, thick ropes of white seed in your mouth. He pulled out and living stroked your jaw “swallow it all baby.. such a good girl, and you know what good girl get? They get rewards. Stand up and bend over my desk baby.” He commanded gently, smacking your ass playfully as he flipped up your skirt and pushed your panties to the side.

“So fucking wet pretty girl, and all form sucking your professors cock, aren’t you so naughty?” He cooed and shoved two fingers into your weeping hole.

“Oh! Professor Skywalker… please..” you begged, clenching around his fingers.

“Please what baby? You what my cock?” He teased and smacked your ass again as you nodded yes “so good f’me” he murmured. You felt him slide his tip up and down your soaking folds before pushing the head into your entrance.

“Fuck!” He hissed “so fucking right” he groaned and slowly pushed in further.

Half of your brain was gone, reduced to mush; the other half was screaming and crying and jumping for joy at the fact that you were bent over your favorite professors desk.

“Call me Anakin baby, or Ani if that’s easier” he mumbled as he pushed his thick cock all the way in your tight hole with a “fuuckkk..”

“Ah! Ani!” Your moan as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, getting a good feel for your tight walls.

“Fuck me baby, can feel you clenching me so good.. so fucking good baby doll” he praised and smacked your ass again, speeding up his movements and pounding into you “yeah? You like that you slut? Taking your professor so good baby, horny little pussy just needing me so bad yeah?” He jeered and used his hand to rub your clit.

The movement had your brain short-circuiting. You didn’t have the power to warn him before you came all over his cock, the only sounds being muffled screams as you bit your arm.

“Oh fuck! Gonna cum inside you, fill you up so good” he groans and throws his head back as his orgasm approaches. His thrusts become sloppy as he fucks himself through his high, a ring of your respective cums forming around the base of his dick.

He pulled out after a few moments and pulled your weak body into his lap. “Feel good baby?” He murmurs.

“Yeah.. s-so good..” you respond as you melt into his touch.

“Good girl, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry about anything okay?”

@snowtargaryen (here you go!)

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝑅𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ༻

What killed Astarion more than anything was how his daughter carried on your personality. Always wanting to be there for everyone, especially him… He wishes you were still here with him.

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Mentions of Character Death - Dadstarion

A single tear hit the ground as Astarion looked up into the night sky. How? He wonders to himself… You had both gotten so far the past couple of years. He even managed to kill Cazador, not only for his revenge but to help keep you safe as well... He had done everything to protect you, but in the end, there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t there, he had tried to have been there, but when he got there it was too late.

“What are you doing out here all alone papa?”

Astarion had heard his young daughter calling out to him, but he didn’t want to turn around…

His daughter was a perfect mix of the two of you, she had your hair, his pale skin, one of her eyes were the same color as yours while her other eye was all him, vermilion.

What killed Astarion more than anything was how she carried on your personality. Always wanting to be there for everyone, especially him…

“Papa! You’ll catch a cold if you keep standing out there!”

He sighed heavily, she still hasn’t realized that he’ll always be cold, especially with you gone now, the little warmth he could find in life.

Astarion’s daughter was holding out her arms, a well made embroidered jacket held out in her tiny hands. It was the jacket Gale had gifted her just this year, far too small for Astarion himself yet she still wished to see him cover up.

She was still so young and naïve, Astarion knew this… And he knew she didn’t want her only parent getting sick thanks to the harsh autumn winds.. Even though he wouldn’t…

Another tear slipped past his long lashes, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

He had been sitting outside at night reading a book you had given him. It was such a tranquil evening, the crickets and frogs chorused as the stars twinkled in the sky while you were sat at his side.

-Bringing up his hand he lays it against his shoulder, Astarion swears he can feel your head laying on his shoulder even now…-

You were humming along with nature until you felt the cold air nip at your nose. He could feel the chill run through your body and before he could ask if you’d like to head inside you were removing your jacket and laying it against him as if it were a blanket.

“Just what in the hells do you think you’re doing, hmm?” Astarion arched his eyebrow, his book closing so he can lean into you more.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you wink at him, attempting to be cute.

“Now hold on, as adorable as that is, you should honestly be far more worried about that little thing growing inside of you.” He points to your stomach.

“Oooh please, I defeated an elder brain. Do you really think the cold will hurt me? Besides… I want to enjoy this moment a bit longer, let me have my moment.”

“So stubborn, but you know… I could think of another way to keep you warm and even myself.” He always knew when to turn on his seductive side with you, and tonight would be the perfect moment.

You had both laid out there all night under the maple tree. Your bodies entwined with one another’s, hands roaming, and your jacket covering the both of you in the end.

“Papa?” Your daughter tugged on her fathers pant leg, “Papa you okay!?.”

Astarion focused on his daughter, he tried to stop them but his tears kept making their way down his cheek. He always knew he was weak; knees crumbling to the ground he wrapped his lean arms around his daughter embracing her closely.

“W-whyre you- c-cryin- papa?...” She began to weep with her father.

The past few days his daughter had been asking what happened to you, her mother… And Astarion didn’t blame his daughter for being so curious, nor did he blame her for these recurring memories.

“It-it’s mama, th-thats wh-why you’re cr-cry-crying, right?” Her own tears create a steady stream down her pale complexion…

Astarion wanted to tell her so badly, but how could he tell her… How could he tell his daughter that her mother passed because he wasn’t strong enough… no… he couldn’t. Not yet. She was still far too young for the truth, she could hate him later for it. He was going to protect his daughter no matter what at the moment.

Pulling away from his daughter, he saw so much pain coated on her small face.

Astarion raised his hands so he could wipe away her tears tenderly. Picking up the small jacket she had brought him, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Your mother, well she…” He searched for the right words but… “Above us,” he blurted the words before thinking, “See.” He pointed above them, the dark sky was beautiful, stars surrounded them in the sky while the moon gave off a light glow.

She looked up to see all the stars twinkling in the sky.

“T-the stars? Will she ever come down?”

Astarion huffed out a small laugh and shook his head while looking up. “Well, no. But, she’ll always be with you in your heart,” -he pinched her cheeks softly- “Your mother is always going to be keeping an eye on you, I’m sure of it.”

His daughter rapidly began to wipe his tears from his stained cheeks along with hers.

“If she can see us! Then you shouldn't cry anymore papa!” She can see that you are hurting! She wants you to smile.”

Astarion helped her wipe his tears. “You’re right, she wouldn’t. If she was here she’d probably tell me to get over it.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Oh papa! I forgot! I brought out mamas sketchbook! Can you try to draw mama for me!? I want to see how pretty she was!”

“I can most certainly try, for you that is” Picking himself up from the grass, Astarion held his hand out for his daughter so he could take her over to the maple tree, “but don’t complain if it’s terrible.”

Sitting on her papas lap she waited for him to open your long lost sketch book...

Flipping through it, Astarion swore he could feel his undead heart skip a beat… There in the middle of your pages was a sketched photo of himself…

“This is-“ his hand traced over the gray sketch.

“That’s you papa!”

Beneath the sketched portrait was a small note, “The most beautiful vampire I’ve ever laid eyes on, Astarion Acunin.”

[ameliora-j]

Stepbrother!Eddie x stepbrothers!friend Steve? Maybe reader and Eddie have been together before and Eddie invites Steve to join?

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

content: stepcest, stepbrother!eddie, brothers bestfriend!steve, unprotected piv, spit roasting, slut!reader (idk how else to put it LMAO), pussy eating, hair pulling, degradation, anal play, impact play, DARK CONTENT, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

you jump as your door slams open, causing your eyeliner to slide across your face. “eddie you ass! you ruined my makeup!” you yell, throwing a stuffed animal at him. he smirks, catching the makeshift weapon with ease as he shakes his head.

you groan, standing up and beginning to try and shove him out of the room. “get out! why are you in here?! mom!” you yell in annoyance, slapping at his chest.

“cool out dude, our parents aren’t home” he laughs as his hands are up, defending himself from your slaps. “besides, i was coming to ruin your makeup anyway, pretty girl” he pouts mockingly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “so cute all feisty” he chuckles, kissing your nose softly.

“awh… you think i’m gonna let you get your dick wet after you annoyed me” you give him a mocking pout back. “that’s cute” you giggle softly, easily slipping out of his arms and walking back over to the vanity to clean off your makeup.

he waits a bit, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you with a smirk of amusement. he hums, walking over and kneeling behind you as you’re bent over in the mirror. “what are you doing?” you ask, furrowing your brows. you shriek as eddie pulls off your robe, leaving you practically bare.

to say you weren’t expecting this would be a lie. you wore a black lacy set that had crotchless panties—leaving nothing to the imagination even with all the straps and garters. “you naughty slut” eddie tuts, slapping your ass. he hums softly, twirling the little bunny plug you had nestled in your little hole. “you wanted this” he chuckles, licking a bold stripe over your wettening cunt.

“i think the sweetest thing about you,” he hums as he pushes you to be bent over the dresser. “‘s no matter how many times i use your holes…” he hums, licking from your clit to your pulsing hole, moaning at the taste. “you still think i need permission to take what i want” he growls, diving into your cunt.

you gasp, moaning loudly as you grip the edge of the dresser. “eddie!” you whine. “fuck eddie please!” you moan loudly.

eddie is everywhere and nowhere all at once. his mouth envelopes your cunt, his tongue twirling around your clit before teasing at your hole, then going back again. you’re practically crying with pleasure as you grind back against his face, your eyes rolling and your jaw dropped as continuous moans spill past your lips.

his tongue pushes into your weeping hole and you let out a loud whine, reaching back and pushing his face closer. he groans, slapping your ass cheeks a few times as he assaulted your cunt with his mouth.

“‘m… eds i’m gonna cum. i needa cum” you beg, whimpering pathetically as he pulls back. “edsss” you whine, turning and frowning at him.

“i want to feel you cum on my cock, baby” he hums, slapping your ass a few times. “go lay on the bed for me,” he commands lowly. you hurry to do so, climbing on your bed and positioning yourself on your hands and knees. you arch your back, presenting your ass for eddie as you wiggle a bit.

eddie palms his cock through his pants as he eyes you, groaning softly as he takes his lip between his teeth. “missed that pussy, baby” he murmurs as he walks over to you.

you hear him undoing his belt behind you, and that’s all the warning that you receive before he’s forcing his cock into you in one go. “eddie!” you practically scream, clenching tightly around him as you reach back and try to push his hips away. “please…” you whimper.

eddie growls, slapping your ass roughly. “hands off” he demands, pushing your hand away. “behind your back. hold your forearms” he grunts. you whimper softly, pouting as you follow the order, holding your forearms behind your back as eddie begins to pound your cunt mercilessly.

with your parents gone, you’re free to let loose all the moans you want to, practically screaming out eddie’s name as tears of pleasure flow down your cheeks. he forewent a condom, causing you to feel every dip and ridge of his cock. the ruddy, leaking head presses against your gspot over and over, and eddie assures you can do nothing but lay there and take it.

you’re so deeply lost in the pleasure of being pounded by your stepbrothers cock that you fail to hear the door open, nor do you hear steve harrington calling out eddie’s name. your eyes are rolled back as loud moans tumble past your lips with each drag of eddie’s cock against your sensitive pussy. the man behind you slapping at your ass and spewing swears and profanities, pussy drunk with the feeling of finally being able to take you however he wanted with your parents gone.

when you open your eyes, you see the man leaning against your doorframe and whine softly. you clench tighter around eddie at the knowledge of being watched, your hips twitching as your cunt becomes impossibly wetter. “you hear that, harrington?” eddie chuckles, pausing his thrusting. he pulls back then pushed back in slowly, still pounding against your gspot causing you to whine. “she likes that you’re here” he taunts.

before either men can say more, you whine, looking up at steve with wide eyes. “please stevie… lemme suck your cock” you pout, moaning again as eddie picks his pace up once more.

“see that? a perfect slut she is” eddie taunts to steve, speaking as if you’re not in the room. “she’d do anything to have a cock in her” he chuckles, twirling the plug in your asshole before slowly pulling the toy out. “she loves being full” he whispers, beginning to thrust the toy in your tiny hole.

you gasp, your eyes rolling in pleasure as you push back against him. “please…” you beg desperately.

“i can’t deny a pretty beggar like that” steve taunts, pulling his hardening cock free from its constraints. he spits on his hand, stroking it as he walked over to you. your mouth was open and waiting, tongue out and awaiting the treat of his cock.

unlike eddie, steve gives warning. he grips your hair gently in one hand, pushing it back as he uses the other to rub the head of his cock over your tongue. he lets out a low moan, pushing his cock into your mouth and forcing you to meet him halfway until he’s pressed deep into your throat. you let out a harsh gag, pulling your head back.

eddie growls, gripping your hair and dragging you up until your back was against his chest. “don’t you fucking embarrass me bitch” he grunts, slapping your tits roughly, assuring that his cold rungs come in contact with your hardened nipples.

“sorry ‘m sorry!” you shriek, sobbing and flinching at the hits.

“take his cock the proper way, bitch. the way that i know you fucking can” he orders. you nod rapidly and eddie shoves you forward again. steve laughs mockingly at you, giving you no warning this time before beginning to fuck your face harshly.

the two men push and pull you on and off of each other’s cocks, making it abundantly clear that this was in no way about your pleasure, but instead their own. eddie holds your hips, beginning to fuck you harder as his hips stutter a few times.

“you better not cum until you milk us both whore” eddie reminds, slapping your ass. you whine, nodding as best you can around steve’s thick cock as he forces you to deepthroat him. your nose presses against his pelvis, making you swallow a few times to force down your gags.

steve groans as he thrusts into your mouth harder, forcing his cock into your throat repeatedly, uncaring of your comfort or pleasure. “shit… oh fuck i’m gonna cum bitch. gonna fill this slut pussy with my babies” eddie groaned, his head falling back a bit.

at the same time, you feel steve’s cock twitching in your throat, and your legs begin to shake harshly. “come on whore… cum with us i know you want to” steve mocks.

steve and eddie both force you down on their cocks, filling you to the brim with their cum as you cream all over eddie’s cock, whining repeatedly around steve. you whimper softly, swallowing all his cum as he slowly pulls out, whining as you lose the contact of both him and eddie.

it’s not long before you’re feeling pleasure once more, eddie leaning down and cleaning his cum from your cunt. he wraps his mouth around your pussy, licking and sucking, slurping at his and your mess combined. steve groaned, chuckling a bit as he watched. “you two are fucking sick” he chuckled, causing you to giggle dazedly.

[slutforalastor]

Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."

[tojisun]

OMG ive got smth else for u

Give by sleep token is sooo biker!simon coded ahhh😩😭😭

I AM THE SHADOW, YOU ARE A PASSENGER

IF YOU WANT TO GIVE, THEN GIVE ME ALL THAT YOU CAN GIVE

I WANT TO TASTE YOU BETTER

anon u are too sick for this one now im genuinely spiralling??? how do i move on!! HOW DO I LISTEN TO SLEEP TOKEN WITHOUT ENVISIONING BIKER!SIMON???

this fits sooo well with that one consistent brainworm that wont let me go since it manifested – it’s from when i was answering honey’s ask!!

how a subset of biker!simon is him and you being friends for a while but you’re with a partner who doesn’t appreciate you and love you the way you should be, and simon ofc doesnt wanna just be like “i can treat you better sweet girl” BUT ONE DAY HE WHISKS YOU AWAY WHEN YOUR PARTNER DID SMTHN THAT ENDED UP WITH SIMON HAVING SPLIT KNUCKLES, HIS HELMET STRAPPED ON YOUR HEAD, AND HIM AND YOU ON HIS BIKE AS HE DRIVES YOU AWAY AHHHH

on my knees right now???

the way you’re crying in his arms, pressing your face on his back and it’s a little awkward because of the helmet and simon’s feeling the ridges of the visor dig into his back, but god simon’s trying his best not to explode. trying his best not to just swerve into the nearest empty lot because he wants you as far away from your shit of a boyfriend.

and when he finds an empty park, away from the suburbs and from the bastard who made you cry, simon pulls over and tugs at your helmet to take it off before scooping you in his arms and tucking your face on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. he holds you close and he holds you tight, letting his silence wrap around you. he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in, feeling his own blood calm down because you’re in his arms now. safe, loved, cherished.

the way when you ask him why’s he being too kind, too considerate, simon bites the words that threaten to spill because you deserve more than a rushed confession. so he just presses a kiss on your forehead and tells you he’ll always be here for you. always be here to help you throughout.

you end it off with your boyfriend that same night, your body shuddering with sobs but god you feel better. feel lighter.

and it’s gradual – the way you fall in love with simon. the way your eyes see him as more than your best friend, more than your platonic soulmate. and you’re scared to fuck things up, but god the way simon looks at you, all adoring and reverent, makes you weak.

the words spill from your lips on a thursday morning when you dropped by simon’s place only to see him tinkering on his bike in the garage.

you’re about to crouch down and settle on the floor the way you had always done before but pause when simon tells you so.

“i got y’somethin’,” he says, blushing just a bit. you watch as he walks towards the cleared-out corner of his garage, just noticing the covered lump there.

he turns to you with a smile and tugs at the sheet, revealing a pretty, pink, velvet loveseat.

“so you don’t have to sit on the floor w’me,” he says after a while, taking your silence for confusion.

“it’s… mine?”

simon laughs, something boyish. “yeah. all y’rs, doll. i’m used to the hard surface but i see you rubbin’ at your ass when i take too long so i got you this to help out.”

what the fuck?

he blinks. the smile slipping from his lips. “i mean, you don’t have to use it.”

fuck. you said that out loud? stupid-

“no, si, oh my god! it’s perfect!” you scramble to tell him, practically running towards where he’s standing. “i’m just- i don’t know- no one has ever-”

to your horror, tears began pooling in the corners of your eyes. simon stares at you in surprise, his face falling as worry lines his beautiful features. you try to assure him that you’re doing okay, but a pathetic wet sob lurches out of your throat instead.

“fuck,” you say, aggressively wiping at your weeping eyes. “i’m so sorry for this, si. i just- i fucking love you so much and i don’t know how to-”

you startle when big hands pull your fists away from your eyes. you see simon staring at you in shock.

“you love me?” he asks, almost breathless like he is afraid of being wrong. afraid that if he spoke any louder, it will lead to you rejecting him.

but how could you ever?

“i do,” you tell him. “i love you so much, si. i think i always have-”

he cuts you off again, but this time with his lips. his big and callused hands are gentle as they cup your cheeks, pulling you closer to him like he still can’t believe that you love him back.

“i love you too, sweetheart,” simon murmurs on your lips when he finally pulls back, your breaths passing through each other in gasps. “i fuckin’ love you.”

so clearly i went fucking bonkers-

SORRY IT GOT TOO LONG MY GOD

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭᛬ michael gavey as your boyfriend.

author’s note᛬ hii ! ♡ first time posting a concept on here--- & first time writing for my boyfriend, michael gavey. [also… i know we haven’t seen michael smoking cigarettes in the film; but it’s my canon that he does!] i hope y’all like it…& please, reblog & give me ur feedback. thank u! 🍒

warnings᛬ mdni! mentions of smut, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, pussy whipped!michael, mentions of oral sex (m + f), demeaning names, [slight] mentions of bullying, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 591.

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃.

꒰ ⋆ ♡⃘ michael gavey would be the most perfect, adoring and loving boyfriend--- though he could also be quite cruel sometimes; a bit of an asshole, too… all due to him being a cocky, little smartass. michael gavey is head over heels in love with you. like, obsessive--- ‘will do anything you ask of him’ in love with you. michael gavey can be a complete and utter menace; one moment, he is a total dick to you because you’re not understanding what he has been trying to explain to you [for almost two hours now], from a class you both share--- and the next, he’s apologizing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses and his mouth on your cunt for hours. afterwards, romantic words from your favorite poets would spill from his soft, naturally curved mouth, while he’d casually hand feed you cherries, occasionally lighting up cigarettes for himself. michael gavey is so ridiculously smart, he finds it quite unbelievable how utterly dense you can be whenever he compliments and flirts with you, though you'd think he's just joking around, or being a tease--- honestly, he thinks it’s kind of cute how oblivious you can be to his affections.

michael gavey might not look like it, but he’s the type of man to fuck you nasty style; can be quite possessive over you, too. most days, when your boyfriend michael gavey is studying for an upcoming exam, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his plush lips, while his nimble fingers continued skimming through page after page of his massive textbooks, studying nonstop. sneakily, you’d go into his dormitory and drop down to your knees, before taking him into your mouth and eagerly sucking him off, causing a shout from him when he eventually comes down your raw, sore throat--- “my poor, little baby girl… such a naughty fucking thing,” he’d coo mockingly, clenching both of your blushy cheeks together with his long fingers, before he’d claim your mouth in a dirty, deeply passionate kiss.

michael gavey adores seeing you wearing his clothes, especially his oversized sweaters, because that way he can ruthlessly rut into your weeping cunt while fucking you from behind; with you only wearing his sweater. michael gavey loves the taste of your strawberry flavored lipgloss [nearly as much as he loves the taste of your sweet little pussy]--- he loves kissing your plump, juicy, glossy lips whenever he can; and fuck, having your glossy lips wrapped around his cock? let’s just say, it’s embarrassing how quickly he shoots his load down your willing, suffocating throat.

michael gavey loves the way that you smell--- like red roses, strawberry lipgloss, vanilla perfume, sweet scented candles [courtesy of you lighting them all around his dormitory], and your skin… fuckin’ hell; soft as satin and sweet as honey, always smelling of the lavender body lotion he bought for you one random day that the two of you were out shopping [yes, he was holding all of your bags like a perfect gentleman]. michael gavey might be called on the daily a loser or even a freak, but he knows that regardless of the name calling; you’ll always stand by his side, defending him with your foul [glossy] mouth. michael gavey thinks of you as his soft, delicate little angel with a heart made of glass that he must protect at all costs. michael gavey would do absolutely anything you ask of him, he is just so fucking whipped for you; you’re his first love, and hopefully, you’ll be his last.

[bratphilia]

— burn (w. afton)

note ✧.*‎  part two of the self indulgent william fics!! think of this as a double feature. anyways this is my first time writing william and the reader as a married couple even though its barely glossed over, and not some taboo/scandalous relationship!! so enjoy :3

pairing ✧.*‎‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎‎ oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, bondage, squirting

taglist ✧.*‎‎ @dilfity, @iikyutee, @kissingrhi, @jen-parker, @kathxstuff, @papyrus-the-poet, @lowballbread, @cecelovesbooks, @bluebearieally, @cybunii, @van-van, @iamunabletothinkofablogname, @1ncidentdropout, @ice-echo26@, officially-a-simp13, @all4kura, @el-sol-sale-de-nuevo, @littlexstarlightx, @samlow23

synopsis ✧.*‎ you convince your husband not to shave quite yet.

"ah, shit," comes william's voice from the bathroom in your shared room. you perk your head up and peer over to see him standing in front of the mirror with a small amount of shaving cream spilled on the counter. 

you slide off the bed and walk his direction, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on the side of his torso. he remains unmoving, stoic as the humming of an electric razor comes to life. "maintenance time?"

"absolutely," he sighs, checking his beard out in the mirror. he let it grow too far, in his opinion, but you on the other hand craved it. was it weird? possibly, to someone outside of your relationship, but who cares. every time he kissed you lately, his beard scratched your cheek and chin, making you grow so weak in the knees you could only stand with his support holding you up. 

"well, i like it. maybe you should keep it a little while longer," you suggest hopefully.

william simply gives a short laugh. "i know that you like it. you have that cute little look in your eyes again."

you self-consciously look in the mirror, searching for whatever "cute look" he was implying you had, only to find your reflection staring back at you, most noticeably your pupils dilated in desire. fuck, you needed him. you decide to make it a game. "you won't do anything, though, so it doesn't matter. go on, shave," you say with a dismissive wave of your hand and turn your heel to walk away.

"oh, i won't do anything?" he challenges. you give a noncommittal "mm-mm" in response as you climb back on the bed. 

a beat passes. "get back over here and give me your wrists." 

that immediately grabs your attention. you try not to jump and spring forward, but nonchalantly approach him with a blank face, wrists held out for him. the shaving cream and now turned off razor is left abandoned somewhere on the counter. he undoes his belt and wraps it around your wrists, securing the clasp tightly. he pulls you closely so he can practically growl in your ear, "i'm going to go lay down on the bed then you're going to come over and sit on my face, got that?"

you inhale deeply, suddenly finding yourself short of air. "yes."

william situates himself on the bed, casually rest his hands behind his head. he turns his head towards you; your move. you pad over and climb on the bed, straddling him and shimmying your way forward on your knees. he decides to help you out and quicken the process by grasping your hips and practically lifting you onto his face. 

you try to reach forward onto the bedframe, only for your hands to meet a defeating tug against his belt. you were completely at his disposal. he dives in, smothering his face in between your thighs. he doesn't even use his mouth at first, just teasing you with his facial hair alone. it leaves a burning sensation in its wake and you moan desperately, fingers flexing against the leather bounding you. 

"fuck!" you cry once his tongue enters your weeping hole. he pulls it out and relentlessly laps up and down your slit. his finger tips dig into your hips in a death grip, almost totally halting any bucking motions you could try to make. he just holds you against his face, expecting you to take what he gives you. 

william groans against you in unison with your sinfully loud moans. the vibrations only add to the stimulation he gives you. he sucks your clit into his mouth and you swear you see stars. he pulls it with his lips so that your hood drags out ever so slightly and you're almost close. 

before you can react, he pulls you off his face. you groan, disappointed in the loss of stimulation. "don't be so sad, baby," he says. "lay on the bed, yeah? can you do that for me, sweet thing?"

"mhm," you mumble, shakily resting on the spot next to him and he repositions himself on his knees on the bed. your own knees are tilted upwards expectantly. 

he instantly takes matters into his own hands and lifts your legs up to your stomach. "keep them there," he tells you in a commanding tone.

you feel your core pulse at his words and throw your head back when his mouth returns. without warning, he sucked your clit without remorse. unrelentlessly flicking your pearl with the tip of his tongue with a method only he understands. 

you cry out helplessly once more once his impossibly long tongue slips inside of you once more. he thrusts it in and out, fucking you with it while you shake in his grasp. your curses and begging comes out as incoherent babbles as his mouth works its magic on you, effectively rendering you weak. 

he releases your legs from his hold and tries to spread your lips apart to give him more, but stops when you try to close your legs. "do i need to bind your legs together too?" you shake your head no and incessantly apologize, wanting nothing more but for his mouth back on you. "keep being good for me and you'll get to come."

"okay," you whisper.

you wish he would talk to you more in that gruff voice of his, but this treatment is more than enough. plus, his mouth is a bit too preoccupied right now so you'll take what you can get. 

"feel that honey?" he emphasizes by shaking his head, knowing damn well you can barely speak. "thighs all red from my beard. poor baby."

when he sucks his clit into his mouth again, suctioning it earnestly is when you're tipped over the edge before you can realize it. william, who usually makes you ask to come before doing so, isn't complaining, though. your orgasm has his face dripping. he looks up at you, eyebrow quirked. 

"'m sorry, daddy," you say in a small voice. "couldn't help it." he simply leans up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his face. 

[echoisbabe]

Tear in my heart

I had this idea from that scene from Black panther and this was born from that.

I think TW, for death? However! I hope that everyone that reads enjoys! My request are open

<also ooc Wolffe????>

He stands before you, blaster raised. Your hands are raised, eyes never leaving the familiar helmet of Wolffe.

“Wolffe” his name leaves your lips in a plea, his grip loosens on his blaster

For once you are not happy to see him, your heart beats faster as he steps towards you. You don’t know what to do, turn and run? He’d shot you in the back that you are sure of.

“You are a traitor” his grip tightens on his blaster

“You would kill me, my love?” His grip falters again, he steps towards you once more

You wonder if he remembers it all, if someone where in his mind the thought of you lingers.

“For the empire” he states as he squares his shoulders, a second blaster now in his free hand “Without question”

Horror flashes across your face as you take a step back. What can you do now? You had promised never to use the Jedi mind trick on him, promised not to use the force on him. You know times are different however you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Do you remember?” You ask, raising a hand and he flinches subtly, you take a step forward “what we shared? Does that mean nothing now?”

It hangs in the air, he’s holstering one blaster. He closes the distance between you and him. His helmeted forehead meets yours. He’s breathing deeply, his arm wraps around you. He pulls you closer, and you allow him to give you this.

“Let me go, Wolffe” you whisper “don’t let my blood be on your hands” you reach up, hands hesitantly taking hold of his helmet

“I-I have my orders, Cyar’ika” he moves away, so as not to let you lift his helmet “there won’t be any pain, if I do it, I promise”

You wrap your arms around him, tears finally falling freely from your eyes. Your heart is breaking with each passing second, clinging to him but also wanting to run. You had spent months running from this moment. Spent months missing this feeling that’s slipping through your fingers.

“Please” you try again, hoping for a different answer “just let me go” your pulling away from him, and he lets you pull from his arms but doesn’t allow any more distance to separate you

In the distance you hear his men, voices that you don’t recognize. It’s now or never, breaking this promise would sting but it must be done. You raise your hand with the words stuck on your tongue.

“Commander!” A voice shouts, Wolffe turns as your eyes widen, the blaster bolt has been shot and there is nothing to be done, if you pull your hand from him now it would be him that is hit, so you shove him and the blaster hits you square in the chest.

You hear your name screamed out like a banshee. Your knees go weak and you stumble, you want to catch yourself but your muscles fail you and you are falling.

Wolffe had never moved faster, he had caught you just before you hit the ground. His helmet had fallen off and you see his face, a smile graces your lips, your mouth moving as if you’re trying to formulate words that won’t come. He cups your face, shaking his head trying to fight the sudden rush of tears that threatens to spill from his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here” he whispers, he moves the hair from your face “I’m here” he whispers and your smile grows wider, he takes your hand, pressing it to his cheek “Wo- Wolffe, I-I lo-“ your last breath leaves and your body goes limp in his arms “Wait, no, no”

Wolffe reaches for his blaster, turning it on the man and doesn’t think twice, the blaster hits the man and he drops. He turns back to you, he pulls you closer as his forehead comes to rest on yours and he weeps.