#anyway it's just been a rough while and i wanted to do something simple and practise using the pencil tool
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cobaltfluff · 3 months ago
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「僕は君と会うために生まれてきたんだね」
mini crossover: mecha edition (1/3) ryomina x evangelion
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porcelian · 2 months ago
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A SIGHT SO SWEET
PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;
SYNOPSIS: jason can't seem to get enough of you – his watchful eye never once leaves you ;
REQUEST: “ hello! i went to a party today and i kept thinking about jason. well, i think he'd be the kind of partner who'd watch you from afar to make sure you're okay, he'd definitely have access to your location 24 hours for his own peace of mind. i went to a party today and i wondered what it would be like for him to watch me while he's on patrol to make sure i'm ok, he'd want to know when you're leaving your house, when you've arrived the place you're going to and when you're leaving as well. especially given the fact that i've been drinking i think... anyway, could you write something based on that? xx 💋 ”
WARNINGS: nothing to worry about in this fic. it can get a bit suggestive at the end ;
WORD COUNT: 1.0k ;
NOTES: i enjoyed writing this fic so much! i'm not sure what sparked it, but the process was so fluid and enjoyable. thank you for this request <3 it was a joy to write. it is honestly such a marvel to try and understand jason's character with every piece of work i write. i started around june-july and now i feel confident to call myself a writer and i have all of you to thank <3 ;
── .✦ NAVIGATION ; MASTERLIST & AO3 ౨ৎ
“I'M TOUGH.” you remark as Jason’s rough fingertips dance over your knuckles ever so delicately.
He regards you as if he'd break you if he grabbed on too hard. His soft touches light a candle in your heart. Your skin feels hot as his touch grazes over it.
He nods, “I know you are.” His voice is laced with the all too familiar worry you've grown to hear from him.
You wish you could take all of it away and protect him. Unfortunately, you can't do that. You settle with trying to carry the burden together and prove to him he doesn't have to face any of this alone.
“C’mon Jay—” you pout, his eyes dart between your charming eyes and lips - dewy from the cherry lipstick you wear.
Cherries, an angel's kiss in spring.
“—It’s just a simple bar, a small get-together with some of my UNI friends. Nothing bad will happen,” you put the emphasis on the last bit of your words as an effort to soothe Jason's fears and reassure him, “I can take care of myself.”
“You have,” he says, “you still do and will do so, I’ve just joined in too. I want to take care of you too.”
His words strike a chord inside your heart, the saccharine taste of them fills every corner of your body. Those endearing eyes he sneaks glances at you, not aware that you notice them and do the same, break into the surface of your skin and steal your breath away.
He has a way of consuming every bit and part of you. That never fails to mesmerize you.
“We take care of eachother.” You reply as your lips graze over his scarred knuckles. “I don't want you to worry so much, baby.”
He sighs as he leans into your touch. “I know, I just—” he stammers, the words getting stuck on his tongue.
“It's normal to worry, but you can’t let it consume you.” You bring your hands to cradle his face. Jason doesn't shy away from the touch and sinks into your embrace – the sight makes your heart ache in the best way.
You grab onto his hand and place it on the inside of your wrist, letting him feel your pulse.
You give him a cheeky grin as you whisper, “feel that?”
He chuckles quietly, “Mhm, yes.”
“As long as you see, hear and feel me – I will never leave.”
*****
In Jason's mind there is not a single person in this world who compares to you. No one is as dreamlike and otherworldly like you. Especially now, as he watches you sway and move in the kaleidoscopic hues of the bar. The prismatic lights kiss your delicate and inviting skin.
Oh, how he wishes to do the same.
Jason wonders if you know that he’s keeping an eye on you right now, if you can feel his watchful gaze on your form. Do his glances light a fire in your heart just as yours does in his?
He should be patrolling right now, making sure everything is okay. But he find his eyes following your every step as you glide through the dance floor.
He knew when you left the shared apartment that belongs to the two of you – 6:31 pm, knew when you arrived at the bar – 7:05 pm, knew when you finally met up with your friends – 7:18 pm.
Jason engraves every detail in his mind, because he has to. He's making sure that you're okay, that you're safe.
He catches a glimpse of you drinking some vibrant drink. You scrunch your nose at the taste of it and the sight sends butterflies in his stomach.
You laugh at something your friend says. The infectious and melodic sound of it reaches Jason. He can’t help the moonstruck grin that spreads on his face.
Jason's thrown for a loop when he spots your gaze pin him in place. Your eyes fixate on him as if you're entranced, as if he's the only one in the room.
He feels his heartbeat speed up.
Without tearing your gaze off of him you mumble something to your friends, something that he can only guess was a short goodbye. The surprised looks on your friends faces quickly disappear from his mind as you stride to him with confident, but light steps.
“Come to take me home?” You question with a curious voice with a taste of something he can't yet place.
He sheepishly runs his hand down his neck. “What gave it away?”
“Well.” You click your tongue. A smirk dances on your lips. “You've been pretty attentive all night long, watching my every move. I hope the show was up to your standards.”
“Show–?” He chokes on his words. You tease.
You laugh. The sound is akin to honeyed nectar on his tongue.
Jason tries to collect his thoughts. “I still haven't had my fill and I don't plan on leaving you unsatisfied either.”
“Really? I wonder who's the greedy one in this relationship.” You hum playfully.
“Dance with me,” he suggests unexpectedly.
Your eyes dart across his face, taking in his nervous demeanor. “You don't dance.”
“For you I will.”
*****
He spares a single glance at the time. 10:46pm. Time for you to head back to the apartment.
He counts himself a lucky man as the one who takes you home, as the one who waits for you outside the bar, as the one your wobbly steps guide you towards, as the one you wrap your arms around while he caresses your face and tells you to let me help you with the helmet, honey.
He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. The skin is velvety to the touch.
Jason's eyes don't leave your own dazed and enchanted eyes. To him you are a vision so captivating, so sickeningly sweet, all he wants is to get a taste of you.
He is taking you home, isn't he? He is truly a lucky man.
© PORCELIAN ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.
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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago
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Ok but I think you hit on something in “in the dead of night” about how Spencer leans into his mammalian instincts. Imagine him angry and tense after a rough day and needing that and then talking you through the motions of it and why it makes him feel better because of the science and chemicals behind it all
i absolutely love this!! thank you for requesting:)
also experimenting with a new short and sweet format for blurbs/request! feedback is always appreciated<3
wc 800
warnings: fem!reader, very suggestive, d/s dynamics
“I don’t—Spencer—”
Something in your mouth keeps you from finishing the sentence. Namely: your boyfriend’s tongue. You gasp into him as he tugs your jacket off, arching your back against the wall he’s pressed you to so that the fabric can hit the ground with a thick thud.
“Spence, please,” you manage, barely, as his hand cups your jaw and his thumb presses under your chin, encouraging you to angle your head up and make room for his lips. It’s not that you don’t want this—you told him he could be rough with you and you meant it—but you’re slightly overwhelmed by this uncharacteristic display of nearing aggressive passion.
“What, baby?” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while his hands snake under your shirt. Focused on the feeling of his hand pressed against your waist, you allow your eyes to flutter shut.
“You’re acting… different.”
A pause—his head drops against your shoulder as he reigns himself in.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No—you don’t need to stop, I just… it might make me feel better if I knew what this was about.”
He sucks in a breath.
“You want to hear about my day?”
The way his fingers trail downward over your skin is so gentle it feels almost dangerous.
“… Yeah.” But you don’t at all sound sure of yourself. A hum from him seems to rattle your skull as he drags his lips up your neck and over your jaw, kissing you with a softness that is almost certainly deceptive.
“You know what, angel? I don’t actually really feel like talking about that right now. Does that tell you—” he bites your lip, and it doesn’t really hurt, but you whine anyway, “what kind of day I had?”
No words are forming for you anymore, so you make do with an airy “mhm.”
The first button at the bottom of your shirt is undone before you even realize he was unbuttoning it.
“Have you ever heard of the ventrolateral ventromedial hypothalamus?” Spencer murmurs, undoing the buttons on your shirt with a practiced expertise that is hard to keep up with—especially when he keeps teasing your lips with his like this. It doesn’t even matter if you’ve heard of that or not; all the information you’ve ever retained is gone from the stores of your brain. If it doesn’t have anything to do with Spencer, it feels deeply unimportant. You shake your head no. “The hypothalamus does a lot. It regulates our appetites, our body temperatures, hormones…”
Why is this so sexy.
“It also has a lot to do with how we express our emotions. And that tiny part of the hypothalamus—the one I just mentioned—it’s where we process two really big feelings.” He undoes the last button, gently pushing your open shirt from your shoulders. “Anger.” Hands creep around your hips, blindly unzipping your skirt. “And arousal.”
Oh!
“In a disregulated brain, that can be a dangerous combination. But,” he tugs the straps of your bra down, “if you understand it, you can use it to your advantage.”
Your breath is bated as you do the work of kicking off your shoes, and he unclasps your bra.
“The human brain is fallible in so many ways. At the end of the day, we’re delicate, and vulnerable, and convoluted—but we’re also pretty simple creatures, motivated by a few basic instincts. Anger and sex are intrinsic to who we are as animals. For most of history, they’ve defined us. And they’re so closely related. Do you follow?”
Your response comes as a gasp when you realize you haven’t been breathing for a long moment now.
“Yes.” Does it matter if you understand? You just want him to touch you.
“Good.” His lowered voice gets even quieter as he continues, brushing hair behind your ear carefully. “You know I would never, ever hurt you, right?”
“I know.”
You don’t remember how all your clothes ended up on the kitchen floor, but they’re certainly not on you anymore as he presses flush against your bare skin.
“I will always take care of you and keep you safe. That being said—sometimes the best thing you can do when you’re having a really big feeling is to follow that basic animal instinct. It’s why sprinting can help when you’re having a panic attack. Your body is in fight or flight and it will relax if you follow the instinct to run.”
Spencer’s fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear.
“I’ve been having some of those really big feelings today. Do you know what’s going to make me feel better?”
You whimper. Fabric slips past your hips and falls to the ground as Spencer begins closing the small distance between your mouths—but not before uttering a word that has your heart racing.
“You.”
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satoruhour · 1 year ago
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i need geto to grab my chin, stroke my cheek with his thumb, then spit in my mouth. maintaining eye contact the whole time? ugh. he’d de say “good girl”
ST☆RGIRL
a/n: yuuuum anon u guys r giving me the best ideas. also combining this with the geto in the brother’s bsf universe bc a lot of u have been asking for pt. 2, altho asking for a part two is pretty annoying. but i wanted to do a second one anyway lol. i made our brother gay btw + read the first part here / tagging @omgeto @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @slttygeto @kazushawty @peachsayshi
wc: 3.7k
warnings: secret relationship(?), soft dom!geto, reader is not a virgin but it’s her first time with geto, you almost get caught but it’s mild, dry humping / grinding, nipple play, spitting (in your mouth), praise, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut
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sneaking around your brother wasn’t exactly easy, given how they were almost always together by the day — if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were dating instead. the only time you had geto to yourself was in the middle of the week when your brother had gone back to pack more things and to visit his boyfriend, a sure time that you’d show up beaming and excited in front of their double dorm room while geto only gives you a lazy smile, tugging you into the room immediately.
sometimes it was the other way when your roommate went home for the weekend, geto knocking on your door in a wife beater and sweats, a small grin and reddened cheeks from running over; the prospect of hanging out with you always gets him speeding over.
his room was for wednesdays, yours for the weekend. a sweet little arrangement for the both of you.
now, geto suguru was the best boyfriend. he made sure you were always okay with his touches, his kisses. he had a silent way of caring, covering the top of your head when you reached down to pick up something under the table, refilling the trusty mug of water you brought around in the small dorm of yours, tidying up your table for the immense studying you’d be doing. it was the little things that you never noticed before you got addicted to him, but now it’s all you can think about when you gush about him to your friends.
and well, maybe, how good he was at teasing you.
no doubt suguru has had experience with other people before from how he always has you wanting more after a simple kiss, lips separating from yours to shoot you a quick smile and a gesture of manoeuvring you onto his lap. his touches are never-ending, rough, large hands spanning the beauty of your body as he names off feature after feature he’s noticed mature since you’ve both grown into adults. he makes the idea of wearing clothes abolutely offensive, grinding up into your centre and watching you fall apart, only to stop when he feels your hands tighten around his shirt.
geto knows you’re not ready, not when you’re doing some pulling away of your own as his hands creep towards your chest, fingers closing around his wrist before he can reach the buttons of your pants. all you can give him is a flustered smile, stuttering out an excuse with frantic hands. he just lets you — swallowing your apologies and tugs you into his embrace and talks about the newest tattoo he got instead — “we can just kiss and grind, baby. you tell me when you want to stop, okay?”
although you never do, makeout sessions always end with your hair in all places, your panties soaked and your lips swollen, not a single line crossed on geto’s side every time. it was an endearing trait of his; he never rushed you, never pressured you into “helping” him out, rather excusing himself to the bathroom quietly.
a smile spreads across your face when your phone lights up, the little profile picture of a sleeping suguru taking centre stage of your phone.
[11:43am, suguru (the bsf and now my BOYF???)]: hey baby, he just left. u wanna come over?
geto doesn’t even need to ask, because you’re already picking up your pre-packed bag and bid goodbye to your roommate who’s deep in her assignment, not noticing you’re gone until she’s shooting you a text after, asking you if you wanted anything for dinner. eating at the boyfriend’s place, no worries! thanks for asking :)
you’ve reached the other block in record time, amongst other many impressive timings, but while you’ve pressed the lift button and trying to catch your breath, the wind is knocked out of you again when the lift doors part and out comes your brother. you’ve never been so quick to come over before, avoiding situations just like this, but your sibling isn’t phased, simply shooting you a greeting.
“hanging with suguru?”
your breath is shaky when you exhale and you hope he doesn’t notice. “yea— yeah!”
his smile is unassuming, a hand outstretched and you barely make his high-five before he bids you goodbye with too loud of a goodbye, keeping up the clueless act until you’re stopping right in front of their door. your boyfriend doesn’t give you time to breathe, either, door swinging open to your dishevelled state and his chuckle would’ve almost buckled your knees if not for the adrenaline running through you.
“i just saw my brother in the elevator — are you insane?”
geto feigns a pout, “not even a kiss for the boyfriend?”
you roll your eyes with a smile and grab the neckline of his t-shirt, but what he says (“well, you’re the one who came running over, sweetheart.”) prompts you to grunt, shoving him away before you collapse face first into the sheets. they smell like you, you notice, but they’re mostly filled with geto’s natural scent, a calming combination of cinnamon and bergamot. there’s goosebumps on the back of your thighs — suguru runs his hand over it and up to your waist, flipping you onto your side and he coos at your annoyed face, settling into the bed with you.
“okay, no more teasing, hm?” he asks softly and you ignore the jump into your heart. you ignore how his tattoo covered arms are so gentle next to you, how his rougher finger tips brush your hair away like bees on a flower; almost ghost-like, so light, so soft, but you can’t. against your will, you huff, taking his hand silently and holding it, a small frown still present on your face and geto feels bad, now. he leans forward, taking your lips gently and you hate the way how pliantly you obey, sighing as you feel geto move against you.
your hand clutches at the pendant geto bought, a habit you’ve developed every time you feel overwhelmed. it was ironic, too, how the many times you’ve thumbed it was because of geto, and not so much of stressful exams or a weird guy at a party, but that thought’s out the window when geto pulls you onto him, moaning into your mouth when your thighs close in around him.
“you’re okay today, princess?” geto asks against your lips, and there’s no doubt lust swirling in the honey eyes of his — they’re the brightest always in the morning.
“i wanna—” you swallow, “try,” you sit up more comfortably, ignoring the tug in your core, “i don’t want to keep you waiting.”
geto’s brows furrow, “what? no— baby, you’re not making me ‘wait’, if anything i should be the one waiting for you.”
your hands are tense on his chest, he notices, bringing one to his lips before he places a kiss on your palm.
“you shouldn’t be compromising on your comfort to please me, my love,” geto mumbles into your hand, starting to kiss each finger individually until you’re closing your hand around his cheek.
“you’re so pretty,” you mutter softly and you’re jumping in celebrating in your heart when you can feel his skin heat up because your words affect him as much as it did you. you’re leaping for joy because how did you land such a caring lover that would put all your needs first? who’d tell you that you come first in everything—
geto suguru makes this so difficult always, but you’re already firm in your resolution, giving him a solid yes before a small smile spreads across his face, making the act of pulling you down by that same hand. you’re inches away, mind spiralling with how many positions he could put you in but—
there’s a jiggle of the knob on the door and you’re suddenly recoiling.
“are you expecting anyone?”
your boyfriend quickly shakes his head, but he brings you off his lap gently, setting you a safe distance from him. he arranges your hair in place and patting down the wrinkles on your shirt as the other person struggles to open the door and as always, he’s worrying about you, first — until that familiar, booming voice of your brother cuts through the tension and your disappointment is unmatched.
“hey guys!”
geto wanted to roll his eyes, as with you, but your oblivious brother doesn’t take much note of why your chests were heaving and your skin is sweaty, rather setting down his bags full of dirty laundry and the cute anniversary present he was ranting to you about — it felt like your work was undone, reversed, and you’re back to feeling intimidated, no doubt the presence of your brother making you feel like you were doing something sinful.
“so! wait, why do you look so—”
“oh, it’s nothin’, she’s just nervous for her upcoming exam,” geto answers almost immediately, removing the attention from you; it wasn’t entirely false, you realise, giving him a secret smile. “you were saying?”
“oh! yes, so, turns out…”
it’s nearing to the fifteen minute mark where your brother still continues to talk, rambling on about how his boyfriend’s moving date had been moved forward insread, so it was halfway throughout his journey that he got a text saying how it might be too chaotic for them to hang out — boxers, movers, the family dog barking at every stranger.
that heart-twisting, anticipating feeling had subsided by then, and while it was never a dull moment with the two of them, you left that dorm room feeling a little dissatisfied.
“i’m sorry, baby,” geto whispers to you later as your brother takes the chance to pee. he’d volunteer to send you back but the both of you didn’t want to risk anything more.
“next week?” geto asks, a hand to your cheek, “but of course, if you don’t feel it next week either that’s f—”
you give him a small grin, fingers covering his own shaking ones in comfort, “next week.” his lips barely leave your forehead in a peck before the toilet flushes and the door opens; geto teases your brother about not washing his hands and the two bicker just like years ago: hands flying everywhere and your giggles cutting through every insult they hurl at each other.
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you can hear geto’s chuckle when you show up the next week, looking like you just ran a marathon again. this time you have no trouble avoiding your brother by hiding behind the wall beside the lift, though you hardly have any time for your boyfriend’s teasing laughter.
closing the door with your feet, you’re walking geto back into the room and his eyebrows raise at your determined face.
“are you sure you’re okay—”
without warning you’re clashing your lips into his, hands on his pecs and mewling softly when his arms naturally wrap around your middle.
“more than—” there’s a dramatic sigh when you feel hands caress your back, “okay.”
you’re just too enamoured with geto to carry on with your once self-assured actions, because you’re always like putty whenever you’re in his embrace. it happens without fail every time.
“you make me feel so,” swallowing, your eyes break contact and your head collides with his broad chest, “insane. you drive me crazy.”
you don’t miss how he winces a little, but soon he’s bringing your head off of him, biting his lip at your cute pouting face, possibly not knowing how even more obsessed he was with you.
a simple text from you has got his palms sweaty, and he goes through at least three drafted messages first before sending something, afraid he’d push over your boundaries or do something you won’t like. geto loves your smile, seeing your cheeks reach your eyes until there’s no more from a joke he made because you were talking about the cute little tattoo his little sister made him get. there wasn’t an end to suguru’s love for you; to see you, to feel you be so flustered and sheepish because of him drives him crazy — did you see the effect you had on him?
you simultaneously ruined and changed the definition of love for him; he’d never have anyone else.
you’re taken aback when geto tugs off his shirt and sitting right in the centre of his sternum is a woodcut tattoo of a halved sun, looking entirely contrasting with the traditional dragon that runs over his body and other ink-heavy pieces littered across his body. this was like a collection of ever-flowing lines that seem to bleed despite the bold lines that signify the end of the sun, it was you. your fingers trace over the tattoo under the protective film, your gasp prominent when there’s a small “to my sun” below it, paired with your initials — ambiguous enough if you were to break up, but geto hoped that would never be the case.
“got this for you last week,” suguru takes your wandering hand into his, words and actions gentle while he kisses the back of your hand, he laughs into your skin, “hurt like crap, i’m not gonna lie.”
“sugu—” your eyebrows are downturned just like your smile, “this is so pretty.” you’re in awe that he’d get something permanent for you, no doubt with such a cheesy line under the beautiful drawing.
“you’re so pretty.” geto smiles when you smile with a roll of your eyes, and you let him bring you into another kiss, softer this time as you let him lead, pulling you to his lap easily.
anyone who looked at the two of you could see the instant difference: geto with his inked arms and room oozing with posters and the gruff nature of him, and you with your bashfulness and sweet smiles and while geto is bound to be noticed first, he would rather sit in the shadows as your moon as he lets you charm everyone you come across. you’re just like that.
geto treats your body like glass, removing your top off of you gently as his hands span your torso and he sighs when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. “look at you…” and you’re giggling, drawing a smile from the other. slowly he looks to you for reassurance and you nod, prompting him to wrap a careful mouth around your nipple. your boyfriend moans when he feels you jerk at the contact, tongue swirling around your mound as he plays with the other and that’s all it takes for your fingers to tense around his shoulder.
“f— fuck, sweetheart,” you hear him groan into your chest, moving to other nipple and suckling on it, eyes closed in bliss while your head falls back, “you’re so perfect, my love.”
“am i, now?” you mumble breathlessly, “you should look at who’s talking.”
geto nods, coming off of your tits with a pop! and the grin he gives you is shit-eating, “yeah, so goddamn perfect.”
you’re impatient now, especially when you’re in full perception, body on display just for your lover to see, and your hips move slowly whilst your skin feels like liquid fire.
“need you, suguru,” it’s a soft whine that comes out of you, and geto moans at your neediness and the rock of your pelvis because he can practically feel your cunt clench around nothing and your clit throbbing, and while you’re both no stranger to this, the idea of going further than whatever you’re used to makes geto dizzy.
“yeah— i know, baby,” you’re on your back after, gulping when you’re finally left with nothing on your body, shorts and panties taken off and the glory of your body is like oxygen to him, “i need you too.”
gently, suguru pries your legs apart and he’s hooked on your wetness, the beauty of your labia and hole, leaking so much slick his breath is shaky when he exhales. the first contact with your clit is feather-like, and it’s all he does before he leaps in and eats like a starved man. the sensations are too much that your thighs are pulled taut, feeling the flat of his tongue draw a line up your pussy.
geto slurps at your arousal, putting pressure in his mouth and sucks like his life depended on it and your sounds are music to his ears. he groans when he feels your hands pull at his hair, tugging away or towards your pussy even he didn’t know but he relishes in how he’s able to make you feel like this.
“su— suguru, s-shit! your mouth’s—” you can basically hear the smile in between the messy eating of your boyfriend, emerging from your plush thighs for a moment to show you just how soaked the bottom of his face was.
“it’s what?”
you tsk at his teasing and you shove him back, ignoring the way his chuckles send chills up your body through your core, but geto is merciful, humming and moving his face against your cunt. his tongue is relentless as well, making you so pliant with just one muscle as he flicks it against your puffy clit. it’s when your entrance starts to clench around air is when he thinks you’re going to cum.
and he stops — your whines are so cute to him.
“what’s your deal, suguru?” your frown’s adorable too, but he makes it up to you with a sweet kiss and lets you taste yourself.
“want you to cum around my cock, baby. you can do that, can’t you?”
yes, geto felt like he wanted to combust. yes, geto felt like he needed a thousand and one photos to capture how angelic you looked right, but with how he’s talking right now, you only can look up at him with excitement despite not knowing the torture you were putting him through.
and so when he first nudges his tip past your hole, that facade drops entirely, eyes fluttering close at the tightness of your cunt and the spread of your pussy lips upon his dick. you were by no means a virgin, although you disclosed that it was a shitty first time when you first lost it, but the way you feel around his cock, closing in around him you both have had to take breaths together.
“so tight…” geto’s close to bottoming out, memorising how he made you fall apart so easily: your hands clutching tightly on his wrists, making your tits pop out more, the flutter of your pussy, your cute lil mouth stretching into a delicious ‘o’. “and so pretty, just like that.”
you hum at the praise and once he’s buried, your little pants become more frequent, leaving puffs of air on his cheek.
“move?”
“are you seriously asking me that right n— oh shit…”
geto unsheathes and slams into you, and he can feel the drag of your walls along his length. a small laugh leaves him, “just takin’ care of m’pretty girl.”
he’s only had your dripping pussy once and yet he already can’t get enough of it, starting to move his hips as he impales you on his cock. it’s the only thing your mind can focus on, feeling so full and filled with him that it hazes your brain and hypnotises you almost.
“su— ohmy g-god!”
geto’s hands tighten around your thighs at that and the thrusts get sloppy so fast, rutting into you with no end goal in mind other than to feel your tight hole around his length. your lover’s eyes fall to the way his cock slips into you and you take it so well — there’s no other pussy he’d want to feel around him, truly — you take the ram of his hips so good and the gushing of your cunt is answer enough for him.
your hands grab for him, fingers fumbling with his forearms to bring him to your lips. the kiss is filled with drool, tongues slamming into each other as his hips stutter and jolt at the clamp of your pussy, and when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.
you’ve talked about it before and it’s like he reads your mind before anything even begins; his hand grabs at your chin, so lovingly and different from how disgustingly rough he was slamming into you. his thumb goes over your supple skin, and he doesn’t need much to pry your mouth open but—
“open.” and your tongue comes out like second nature and you try not to show your excitement when geto gathers saliva, spitting the ball of liquid straight into your mouth. it hits your tongue hot. his honey eyes are darker now as he watches how obediently you swallow — he swears he can see hearts in your eyes.
“good girl.” geto smiles again, propping your legs up against your chest now in a mating press and you whine in surprise. the position gives him access to the deepest parts of you, and one hand sneakily rubs at your clit in time with his faltering thrusts and you’re cumming with a cry of his name.
“suguru— yes, yes! f-fuck— right there, baby,” you’re sobbing, seeing splotches of white in your vision as your high seem to overtake your senses. it hits you in all the right spots, giving geto his little gift of cumming around him and multiplying it tenfold by how your cum seeps into the sheets. it’s so much that all he can hear is the lewd squelch of your cunt and one more moan is enough for geto to groan into your neck.
“going to give you my cum, darling,” your “yes’” resonate in his ear and it spurs him on to finally cum, shooting his load deep into your womb and filling you with so much hotness. it’s too much but you love it and geto hisses at how your juices and his semen seem to seep out, “that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”
there’s a sly little grin when he lets down your legs gently and you’ve grasped at your pendant so hard it’s detached, and he quells all your doubts with a single kiss and the sun on his chest.
“i’ll just get you a new one, baby. you deserve that much.”
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why did i write sm....
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after-witch · 2 months ago
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Horrorfest: The Next Time We Fall Asleep, We Could Die! [Yandere Demon!Dabi x Reader]
Title: The Next Time We Fall Asleep, We Could Die! [Yandere Demon!Dabi x Reader]
Synopsis: You try not to fall asleep--and it fails spectacularly.
For Horrorfest request: sleep paralysis demon dabi x reader please?
Word count: 700ish
notes: yandere, non-graphic sexual assault
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The bedsheets underneath you are rumpled and ill-used, tossing and turning with your body as you try desperately to stay awake while still getting something like rest. An online blog said–and you hoped it was true–that if you laid down in bed and simply rested, you’d get the benefits of taking an actual power nap.
And sure, you were trying to replace your 8-square-hours-a-night with fake naps, but it had to help. Even just a little. Just a tad, just a titch. If it didn’t, well, it meant you were finally going out of your fucking mind.
But you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You won’t. You lift your head and slam it down on the pillow to prove your point. To keep yourself awake, too. 
Because if you fall asleep, o God, if you fall asleep, you know he’ll come for you. O God, he would pin you down and make you scream and cry, and–
O God, you think, pressing your head against the cool pillow, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
“Do you always quote Hamlet when you fall asleep, or are you just feeling extra pretentious today?” A voice drawls in your ear, and no, no-no-no-no-no-no–
You can’t move an inch. Can’t do so much as blink, even. Your eyes are stuck open wide, staring into the darkness, and you smell him before you see him; the acrid smoke that sticks inside your nostrils like tar, no matter how many times you desperately breathe out, snorting like a child having a tantrum.
And then you see him, the whites of his teeth gleaming with his grin as he straddles you, body impossibly heavy as he keeps you pinned to the bed. Not that you can struggle, anyway; during these dreams, these nightmares, you can’t do so much as wiggle a finger. Move a muscle. Open your mouth to scream for help or beg for mercy that won’t come.
“You’re so cute like this,” he says, breathing hot air into your face. Everything about him is warm. His body, his breath, the touch of his fingers as they roam across your skin. He’s burned, you know that; burned and stapled up, a patchwork of stitches.
“You’re like a pretty doll for me to play with. You like that, don’t you?” 
You don’t. You want to scream this in his face. Or beg him to leave you alone. But you don’t even have the privilege of doing that. Instead you’re stuck, silent, immobile, unable to do anything but stare helplessly as he does whatever he wants with you.
He grins wider, and you swear his smile splits, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark. That’s where he always keeps you, in the dark, on your bed, underneath him as he touches and pokes and everything always leads to the same eventuality: him inside you, warm and heavy and too rough, and it’s the only time your body moves during the whole ordeal. 
Not because you gain any control over it, but because the force of his thrusts force your body to shift on the sheets, a cold sweat sticking to your back by the end of it.
Sometimes it feels like he keeps you for days instead of hours. But every time you wake up, body drenched and sore like you’ve been struggling against an impossible force in your sleep, it’s always simply the next morning. 
A simple nightmare, that’s all, you’ve told yourself time and time again. But simple nightmares don’t leave your muscles aching for days. Simple nightmares don’t waft the lingering scent of cigarette smoke over your pillowcase. 
Simple nightmares don’t always end with the same exact thing–the scarred demon kissing your cheek and crooning out,
“See you tomorrow night, yeah?”
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anakinstwinklebunny · 16 days ago
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LOVELY CINNAMON ROLL..
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PAIRING: chef!anakin x f!pregnant!reader (made ani based on Gordon Ramsay 😭)
Slam of the front doors echoed through the walls, followed by the familiar clatter of keys being tossed onto the counter. You hear a muttered “Fucking idiots can’t even boil water” under well-known breath before his boots thud heavily towards the kitchen.
You’re standing at the counter, chopping vegetables with slow, careful movements since your swollen belly has made it more and more challenging each day. Yet, the sound of his voice is enough to make your lips curl into a smile. His voice - rough, grumbling - just showing another side of your Anakin, that was still in his TV chef character, the same one that’s made people cry on live television.
But then he sees you, your back turned to him
His whole demeanor shifts instantly. Eyes soften immediately, shoulders throwing away their tension and weight from the day, legs involuntary taking steps closer to you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dropping into something warm and gentle - such a contract to his previous tone
He stops behind you, strong, defined arms wrapping around you, broad palms settling protectively over the swollen curve of your belly. Soft kiss press against your neck, then another to your shoulder, lips lingering just long enough to make you shiver.
“How’s my girl?” his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath tickling your sensitive skin
You tilted your head to the side to give him more room. “I’m fine. Just trying to get dinner ready before you complain about the ‘absolute state of this kitchen.’”
His laugh is soft, rumbling in his throat “I only complain when I’m on set, babe. You know that.” hands shift on your belly, fingers splaying wide to stroke the sides gently. “How’s little one doing? Is she kicking you too much today?”
You respond with the simple shake of your head, leaning into his touch. “She’s been calm. I think she’s waiting for you to daily-talk to her.”
His face lights up with that boyish grin you love so much. Before he kneels down, his hands gently twist your hips to have much more easier access to your belly. His cheek the curve of it. “Hey, baby girl,” he whispers, thumb stroking soothing circles over your skin. “I hope you’re not giving your mama a hard time in there. Daddy’s home now, so you can start practicing those kicks on me instead.”
You roll your eyes fondly, fingers reaching down to run through his messy curls while he presses a soft kisses all over your belly. “I swear you’re already spoiling her,” you tease.
“She deserves it,” he straightened up to stand behind you again. Large hands move to cover yours as you chop, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Now, let me help you with that before you hurt yourself.” another sweet kiss on your delicate neck
“I’m pregnant, not helpless,” you quip, yet let him take the knife anyway.
He smirks. “Youre kind of both, sweetheart. And I don't want the most beautiful woman on earth that belongs to me to chop her finger off or cut herself"
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TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in
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mitch-the-silly · 10 months ago
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Could you write a nsfw Vox x fem!reader where Vox comes home from work, feeling really stressed and asks for the reader’s consent if he could relive that stress on her? Like he’s being really rough on her and maybe praising her too? 👉👈 Nothing too extreme though, and I find consent sexy.
HELL YEAHHH I CAN!! This is exactly what I was waiting for!!! A reason to write Vox smut. What can I say? I'm but a simple creature.
Vox would for sure do that relieving stress via sex thing. Especially since he's always pressed about something and because I like to think he's at least a bit of a manchild.
Anyway, thanks for the request!!
"Take a Breather or Two...?"
Vox x fem!Reader NSFW
MINORS DNI!!!
Warnings: NSFW, Stress relief sex, praise kink, rough sex
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You sat silently on the bed that you and Vox shared. With your headphones on, listen to whatever it was that the shuffle button deemed fit for that moment. The feeling of the silky, dark grey sheets against your skin felt heavenly. Vox was going to be home any moment now, and you’d be there to greet him as always. It was simply the way things had been for a while now. He’d work, and you’d spend some much-deserved time with him at home.
You heard the door open and immediately sat up on the bed. However, the slamming of the front door was what made you raise a brow.
“I can’t fucking believe it!” Vox yelled from the living room. He finally entered your shared bedroom, untying his bowtie and sitting at the edge of the bed. He stared at the wall for a second then, covering his eyes with his hands, he kicked the air in frustration. “Ugh, you have no idea what a day I’ve had…” He sighed.
“What happened? Tell me…” You spoke, placing your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging them. He let out a small relieved breath as you did this. After that, he continued.
“First of all, Alastor fucking tried me again today! Not to mention that I had to cancel three of the ten shows that generated the most revenue because the lead actress was taken out in the last extermination and we didn’t know because she went on vacation and said she’d be back in a month. And on top of that Valentino has been throwing the most stupid tantrums. Ughhh!” He vented, “I need to take out some steam.” He gave you a bit of an unrecognizable look. He seemed to be generating an idea. However, there was no way for you to know without asking.
“That sounds like a good solution, Voxxie. You got something in mind? I can see the gears turning in your head~” You teased.
After pondering his idea for a brief moment, Vox continued proceeding to speak his mind. “I want you.” He spoke bluntly. “Yes, fucking your brains out would make me feel so much better.” He added, his breath shuddering slightly. He scooted closer toward you and caressed your face gently. “Can I do that baby~? I’ll only do it if you let me…” he pouted. Almost begging, but based on his tone, it was apparent he was willing to drop the subject if you did not want to do it.
You nodded softly. But that wasn’t enough confirmation for him. “No no, use your words.” He replied in a commanding tone.
“Yes, I’d like that. It sounds like fun.~” You spoke, this time telling him outright that you wanted this.
Vox nodded, “Ok, I’ll try not to be too rough. Just… fuck you’re so fucking sexy…~” He sighed, letting out a desperate little exhale.
Vox reached for your hips, instantly pulling off your pants along with your panties. He wasn’t one for teasing when he needed it. Without wasting a second, he split your legs open, gently tracing the inside of your upper thighs. He licked his lips desperately, determined to make you feel good before he fucked his anger out on you. He leaned his head towards your private area, giving your clit a gentle lick.
You shuddered in pleasure, letting out a small whimper. This drove him absolutely mad. So much so, that he could feel the need to continue this coming from within his core. So he licked along your labia, circling your clit hungrily until you were just as wet as he wanted you. The sounds of your juices gushing as he licked you up, oh it was making him want to do all sorts of things to you. And thus, after hearing how wet you were now, he stopped.
He sat up, looking at you with a certain hunger in his eyes. There was a primal need for more taking over him, not quite clouding his mind but filling him with a haze. “You’re being such a good girl for me.~” Vox cooed, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them down to his knees. He scrambled to his waist area and took his cock in his hand. Needily aligning himself to your entrance. The sight of his cock on your labia made him shiver impatiently. He rubbed his tip on your clit, gasping out a small shudder
After getting a gasp out of you, he smirked, inserting himself into your entrance. “So tight for me~” He chuckled, very slowly moving in and out of you. You moaned relentlessly, wrapping your legs around him as he mercilessly bucked his hips into you. The sensation made you moan out his name. Reaching out to hold him, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss you, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He indulged in its taste, savoring your mouth with absolute ecstasy. The second he parted the kiss, he bucked his hips faster.
Vox’s screen began to lag, the image of his eyes freezing up as he looked directly at you. “Fuck~ You’re so fucking pretty like this~ So good for me~” Vox groaned, his voice distorted and sort of glitched out. It was way too obvious he was enjoying himself.
“Ahh~! V-vox, I’m… I’m close…~” You whined, bouncing back as he pumped himself into you.
“You wanna cum baby~? You want me to make you cum~?” Vox cooed, groaning, desperately chasing his own orgasm. You nodded desperately, whining, feeling a warmth pool up in your insides. He was making you feel so good that you couldn’t turn thoughts into words anymore.
Vox let out a laugh, an amalgamation of amusement and absolute arousal. The flat-screen television he had as a head began sparking as his strokes became more uneven and deep. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me~ So fucking good…~ You’re gonna make me cum so deep inside you…~” He slurred, seemingly so high on the pleasure that he didn’t seem to give a shit about the malfunctioning lights in the room. He took in the sound of your moans and pants, letting the vibrations course through his being. He had to feel you cum around his cock. He needed to feel it. So he reached his hand down towards your clit, rubbing it with his thumb. You squirmed under his touch, an orgasm approaching faster than before, and you bucked your hips into him. And as you began to get tighter and tighter, the lights began to flash faster. “Yes~… Yes…~ So fucking pretty all stuffed up with my cock…~ Look at that beautiful fucking face…~” he groaned in absolute adoration.
And suddenly, with a hard thrust and a loud grunt, Vox found the climax he so sought, darkness engulfing the once-lit room, his monitor showing the “ERROR” screen. Yet, he didn’t dare stop the way he was touching you. Oh no, he needed to feel you reach your climax as well. He rubbed faster and faster, enduring the overstimulation of keeping you around him, your walls pulsating. He began to whine a bit himself, in all honesty. Until, finally, you arched your back in, your hips spasming as you eventually reached that orgasm he just needed you to have. The sensation of your walls around him, driving him absolutely mad. So much so, that the room’s power returned, but only for the split second in which your walls squeezed him in the midst of your climax. He’d never felt this good before and he swore he wanted more of this.
He pulled out of you, wincing at the sensation and then collapsing next to you. He tried to catch his breath, looking at you doing the exact same thing. Once he felt his breathing was stable, he got up and looked around for a towel. Once he found one, he returned to your side and cleaned you up. “There you go…” He chuckled, “You know, I don’t think that in all the time I’ve been in hell or in the years I was alive I've had sex this good.~” He smirked, pulling you closer, holding you by the hips. Looking at you with that same look of adoration he gave you before.
“You’re not stressed anymore, huh?” You chuckled, gliding your index finger under the bottom part of his monitor; returning his playful little smirk.
“They can go fuck themselves. My steam’s been blown.” He responded, kissing your lips one more time. Needless to say, this might be his go-to when he gets this badly pissed off.
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reverie-starlight · 18 days ago
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{tell me a story - atsumu}
gn!reader, no physical descriptions. I’ve been having a rough time lately and was craving some comfort, so I figured I’d finish this draft I started a couple months ago. fluff, comfort, reader is in university, this hasn’t been thoroughly edited, that’s it <3
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atsumu knows you haven’t been sleeping well this week.
he’s noticed your constant yawning in the mornings when you’re getting ready in the bathroom together, he’s seen the way you fight to stay awake in the car before he drops you off at your university’s campus. he’s seen the way you struggle to perform some simple tasks in your usual timeframe, as if your mind is completely fogged over.
you’re tired. exhausted, actually, and atsumu is determined to help you.
he knows when something’s up- he’s been with you for years and lived with you for about half of that time. he knows that your sleep cycle gets a bit screwed over when you can’t stop the thoughts long enough for any sleep you DO manage to get to be restful.
he doesn’t push it at first, hoping this time around he’s flat out wrong and it isn’t more than a lump in the mattress or that you’re just too warm at night- those are things he could fix for you without a sweat (pun intended and he pats himself on the back despite its mediocrity, but hey, he’s an athlete, not a comedian). truthfully nothing would be difficult for him to fix as long as you’re the person he’s making things better for.
but when it becomes clear to him that his initial assessment is correct, he knows what he needs to do.
you never tell him when you’re struggling to sleep, a bad habit he’s tried to get you out of, but he guesses that at this point you don’t have to tell him, anyway.
so when it looks like you’re getting ready for another late night, he leans in the doorway and stares at you with crossed arms.
you sigh, not looking up from your computer. “I’m okay, atsumu. go to bed, I’ll be there soon.”
he doesn’t move from his spot and you groan, tilting your head back against the sofa. “you’re not going to move unless I go with you, is that right?”
“you’re so smart, baby.”
he watches you melt a little, fighting back a smile and it does ease his mind a bit, knowing that you’re not yet immune to him.
finally you give in and shut your laptop, rolling your shoulders back.
once he gets you into bed, he doesn’t immediately close his eyes to go to sleep and you raise an eyebrow questioningly, wide awake.
“get comfortable, baby.”
you shuffle a bit further under the covers, and shrug. “okay, now what?”
“want me to read you a bedtime story?” he’s joking, honestly a little surprised he even got this far, but when you don’t immediately move to swipe at his shoulder, he looks at you.
you’re not meeting his gaze, but rather looking at his chest and picking some fluff off his sleep shirt. “that bad, huh?”
you pout a little. “I can’t turn my brain off.”
he sighs and pulls you closer to him. “it’s okay, baby, I’m here. what can I do for ya?”
you nuzzle into his chest and his arms tighten around your body. “can I take you up on your bedtime story offer? your voice is soothing… maybe it’ll help to focus on something other than my inner one.”
he nods and rests his cheek against your head as he thinks. “hmm, an actual story, or do ya just want me to talk?”
“story,” you decide, somewhat shyly. he smiles a bit and kisses your forehead.
“ya don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s alright,” he says, and he means it.
“it just feels a bit… juvenile,” you admit.
he shakes his head. “but it’s okay to want that sometimes, baby. yer not gonna get any shit from me about it.”
this seems to comfort you a bit and you nod, allowing yourself to relax your muscles a bit so you’re not as stiff.
he takes a moment to think about what story he could tell you, and decides on a fantasy retelling of how you met, and when he started to fall in love with you, starring you as the monarch and him as your loyal servant.
while he talks, he rubs up and down your back ever so slowly in an attempt to calm you down more.
the longer he talks, the heavier your eyelids feel. the soothing tone of his voice coupled with his steady heartbeat lull you into finally feeling that sense of security and sleepiness you haven’t been able to reach in a while.
he trails off once he notices you’re asleep and stays up a bit longer to make sure you don’t become restless again.
he smiles at the feeling of your breath against his neck and settles his head against his pillow, allowing sleep to pull him under as well.
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should we keep track of how many fics of mine end with the characters falling asleep??
hope you enjoyed!!
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samuelsdean · 2 years ago
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New Favorite Game
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: maybe a part of spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. and spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner. (part 1 to new favorite banter, but this can be read as a standalone.)
genre: smut (minors dni!)
warnings: smut without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), dom/sub undertones, slightly mean!spencer, rough sex, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, mating press & doggy style (tell me if i forgot to add something!)
word count: 0.8k
author's notes: my first ever smutty piece! i'm kinda happy with how it turned out but considering it's my first time writing smut, i know i have lots to improve on. however, i hope everyone will still like this. with that said, please tell me your thoughts about this & minors do not interact (please)! anyway, have fun reading!
PART TWO
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SPENCER CAN’T BELIEVE THERE’S A PART OF HIM THAT ENJOYS SEEING YOU CRYING. It’s cruel. Sadistic, yet he can’t help it. The sight of you wailing, begging him for more, begging him to go harder, deeper gets him going.
Pounding you into the sheets, Spencer thinks he just died and entered heaven with how delicious your cunt has tightened. Your cries and moans are so loud, he’s certain he’s getting a noise complaint in the morning. His very first one, considering he’s rarely home and he’s a stickler for rules.
Plus, he never thought he had it in him to make a woman cry out in pleasure.
He’s not Morgan, who, when compared to him, is very experienced in that department. Derek always had a line of girls whenever the team went out for drinks until he met Savannah. Nowadays, Derek is a one-woman kind of guy.
Spencer is definitely unlike Rossi, who had a revolving door of spouses, no offense meant. Of course, Rossi knew a lot of things when it comes to women.
Spencer is not like Hotch, for certain. Hotch is a father, of course, he knows a thing or two about the many ways in the acts of sexual prowess.
So, when the night with you took a steamy turn, Spencer didn’t think he’d be able to bend you over the table, pound you into the mattress, and blow your back out in just one night. He thought it’d be done so soon but no.
You were insatiable.
You weren’t content with just simple foreplay and fucking him in one position. You were relentless and Spencer was eager to please you.
Spencer was eager to get lost in your body.
And now, Spencer has you on your back, legs folded toward your chest, as he fucked you into total submission. His strokes were so deep, he could feel his tip nudging your cervix. He knows you’ll be sore by the time the sun rises but he can’t help it. It feels so good to be buried deep inside you.
This might just be Spencer’s favorite position. He gets to pound you relentlessly. He has you at his mercy as he burrows into you rhythmically, entirely, while seeing your face wet with fresh tears as his sweat beads and trickles down to you.
He likes that he gets to see how much of a mess he has made when he looks down and sees himself entering your cunt, hearing the sloppiness and the sound of sloshing.
God, you were so wet. How is that possible? How could someone get that wet? Spencer knows the answer but he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it when he has your body writhing under him.
“More, Spencer,” You sob as you fisted the sheets you laid on, writhing and moving your hips in time with Spencer’s. “P-please, baby. I’m so close. Shit, close, fuck!”
“You feel so good.” Spencer groans in response, punctuating each word with a deep thrust, causing you to whimper, slight drool rolling down the side of your lips. “Is that what you want?”
Too lost in the pleasure, your eyes roll so far back, your body moving to your own accord. You couldn’t hear what Spencer has just said. You couldn’t even begin to process a single syllable he has uttered. Not a single coherent thought going on inside that beautiful brain of yours. 
Spencer, although exhilarated that he has reduced you to just a pile of gyrating flesh, does not like the lack of response at all. Grunting, he flips your body over which caused him to slip out in the process.
“No. No. No.” You whine pathetically, cunt trying to clamp down on him as you feel him slip out. You scratch whatever you could get your hands on in protest. The sheets. The pillows. Spencer. “Y-you’re m-me—shit—mean, Spence. P-please! Cum! I wanna cum! Please!”
“Mean?” Spencer glowers mid-thrust, gripping your hips hard enough to leave purple bruises you’ll be sporting for at least a week. 
He’s being mean? Hasn’t he done everything you’ve asked for tonight? He has given in to all of your demands, prolonging your pleasure, and reducing you to tears, but he’s being mean?
“You want mean, princess?” Spencer asks as you sobbed, trying to get him to move but his hands hinder you from doing so. His cock deliciously pressed against that one spot inside of you. But it wasn’t enough. You want the entirety of him inside you. You want to be filled up to the brim. Your cunt molded to the shape of his cock. “I’ll show you mean.”
Maybe a part of Spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. And Spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner.
This might just be Spencer’s new favorite game. Pleasuring you until you become a boneless, mindless, and thrashing mess.  
And he always gets what he wants.
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phyrestartr · 6 months ago
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Prisoner of the Coast | Sukuna x M!Reader (WIP)
#SFW wip, reader is a water dragon, sukuna is a ronin, lore, mythology, there's plot, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, probably sad ending?, AU note: I JUST WANTED TO POST SOMETHING IDK
tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006
Fear was not what he felt. Ryoumen Sukuna did not fear you who he faced; he was not a weak man. He was not a faint-hearted warrior. He was not a coward. But gleaming, ghastly eyes reminded him of mortality. Of the very human blood embedded in his veins. 
And the longer those round, moonlit eyes stared, the longer they sliced through the endless, empty blankness of the forgotten seaside palace, the louder that sound of drumming shook Sukuna's skull, against his ribs. But he was not afraid; he did not fear the gods. He would not fear one of their ilk in the flesh. 
The sound of water shifting echoed in the infinite void, dancing off distant walls as shards of light managed to catch on gentle, lapping wakes. Yet your head never moved an inch. Sukuna had seen other snakes do the same in his travels, keeping their heads still while their bodies squeezed and slithered–but their eyes were bound to fall closed. Yours stayed awake. Staring like the head of a Lion Dance puppet. Abnormal. Unaware of such abnormality. 
Sukuna gripped one of his swords tightly, ready to quick-draw if you'd chosen to strike. Gods were like that–hateful, horrible, honourless–and he expected nothing less from a beast like you; however, you'd been meandering towards him his entire stay, he realized too late. Slow. Quiet. Patient. The way one might approach a scared animal. 
I'm not getting paid enough for this shit. Sukuna found a smile, though. Maybe I’m getting paid too fuckin’ much. Who the hell does this thing need protecting from, huh? 
The question gnawed on his mind as your grandeur size became near-tangible–then, your eyes closed. Right when Sukuna started to make out the glint of scales against the moonlight of your eyes, the shimmering glow vanished, leaving only dappling sunlight streaming in from time-worn holes in the towering ceiling. 
“What do you want?” A man’s voice, your voice, asked from the shadows. The source was lower than before, ringing from a height so oddly human it gave Sukuna whiplash. 
“Ho? A shapeshifter?” Sukuna wondered, grinning. “You think you can take me on like that?”
“I don’t intend to ‘take you on’ at all, samurai.” You sighed and paced. Sukuna followed the sound of bare feet stepping on stones, coupled with the stiff drag of something scratching against the floor. Perhaps a tail? Perhaps fins? He didn’t know. The sunlight protecting him proved too stark against the shadows you dwelled within. 
“Someone has sent you here,” you decided. Sukuna felt your stare on him, though he could not see the twin lights. “My parents.” 
The grip on his blade lessened. “More or less. Said there was a godling that needed babysitting.” 
“Babysitting–?! The fucking audacity. Well, I promise you, this isn’t babysitting.” You snapped, bitter. 
Sukuna smirked. Never did he imagine a god-like thing would be so rough around the edges. “Then what would you call it?”
“Imprisonment.” You stepped toward the light when you said it, coming from an angle Sukuna didn’t expect, making him whirl in place and face the shadowed silhouette standing too close yet too far away. “And you’re my own, personal jailer.” Then, after a moment, you added, “Well. I guess it is glorified babysitting afterall. Expensive babysitting, at that. Congratulations on the easy money.” 
“That mean you’re gonna make this simple for me?” Sukuna asked. He tucked his arms into his sleeves as he waited for you to say something, but you only stepped back into the empty blackness filling your glorious cage. 
“Might as well,” your voice echoed, wilting, “I don’t care to leave this place anyway.” 
“‘N why the hell not?” He asked. 
But there was no answer; there was only the quiet splash of water, and twin ghost lights disappearing into the depths.
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itadores · 5 months ago
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note: inspired by a tag on my last sakura drabble talking about his reaction if you modeled clothes for him
pairing: sakura haruka x gender neutral reader
tags: gender neutral reader, fluff, reader calls sakura babe
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sakura doesn’t care much for shopping. he doesn’t really see the appeal of it, and he especially can’t wrap his head around how some people can spend hours and hours shopping. it sounds like a waste of time to him.
for sakura, shopping is easy. he just buys items in bulk- his socks, underwear, shirts. the only thing that he doesn’t buy in a pack are his pants, and that’s because they often don’t come like that. sakura’s typically in and out of stores in less than ten minutes. the maximum amount of time he’ll spend in a store is fifteen minute tops.
but all of that changed when he started dating you.
unlike sakura, you enjoy shopping. you often ask sakura to accompany you, which he didn’t really understand. not at first anyway. he asked about it once when you first invited him to come with you on a shopping trip, early on in your relationship.
“why do you want me to come?”
sakura’s wording is a little rough, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why you would want him to come with you. it’s not like he really has an eye for fashion. tsubaki would have been a better person to accompany you if you wanted fashion advice.
you roll your eyes at sakura.
“do i need a reason? i just want to spend time with you,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and maybe to you, it is that simple.
sakura, however, flusters upon hearing your reasoning. he’s unable to respond with much more than a muttered “fine” to which you give him a kiss on the cheek as thanks for his agreement.
so accompanying you on your shopping trips has become a regular thing for sakura. he still doesn’t see the appeal in shopping all that much, but he does like being able to spend that time with you.
but right now, sakura’s getting a little impatient as he waits for you come out of the dressing room. how long does it take to try something on? you’ve been in there awhile, and if you’re in there for any longer, sakura’s going to get up and check in on you because maybe something happened and-
“sorry to keep you waiting babe! what do you think? do i look good?”
sakura’s line of thinking is interrupted with your sudden appearance. it takes him a moment to process what you said and another moment to think up a response because sakura’s mouth is incapable of forming words at the moment.
although you’re not necessarily wearing anything showy or flashy, the jeans and top you picked out to try on fit you well. really well. it doesn't help that you do a playful spin for him, letting him see just how well the jeans fit you.
sakura clears his throat, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from you. if he looks at you for any longer, he thinks he may well and truly combust.
"you look good," he mutters, face warm.
"aw, thank you babe! that's so sweet of you," you coo, making sakura's skin go hot.
"yeah, yeah," he mumbles. even if you've been dating for quite a while, it's still hard for sakura to handle the way you so easily praise him for nothing. "are you going to buy it?" he asks, eager to have the attention off of him and onto you.
"hm, maybe? i still want to look around a little more before i buy anything. is that okay with you babe?" you tilt your head, questioning. "i know we've been here for a while, so if you want to head out soon, we can."
"i'm fine. if you want to look around more, go ahead," sakura says, waving away your concerns. "just don't take so long in the dressing room," he grumbles.
sakura stills when you give him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to go disappear back into the dressing room.
"you're the best, baby! i'll be quick, i promise!"
sakura knows that you probably won't be as quick as you claim to be, but he's fine with it. it's more time that he gets to spend with you after all.
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148 notes · View notes
klausinamarink · 10 months ago
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He Want Kiss
rating: G | cw: none | wc: 630 | tags: post s4, getting together, first kiss, Steve is down bad | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him
written for @steddielovemonth
Steve is obsessed with Eddie’s lips. 
Like completely to the point that he might actually start going to therapy. 
But Steve is just a simple man. He sees a pair of well-rounded lips that can make a perfect smile with dimples and he’s a goner. For example, look at Eddie. They’re so plump looking that Steve cannot believe it’s legal. And the way they move whenever Eddie speaks-
“-ink I should go for this one?”
Steve snaps his gaze up, barely surviving from the combination of head whiplash and the pointed attack of Eddie’s eyes, Jesus Christ, look at them Bambi eyes.
“Oh yeah, man.” How Steve manages not to stutter is both a mystery and a blessing. 
“Yeah?” Eddie looks at him, his expression mixed with expectation and nervousness.
“Yeah.” Steve repeats confidently. He’s already forgetting what exactly they were talking about but he knows it has to do with Eddie trying to get a job, hence why he called Steve over to help him out with the few applications that believe in Eddie’s innocence. “Like, yeah, go for that.” 
Christ, he might as well bash his head again. Steve really doesn’t want to come off as a douche again, but it’s not his fault that Eddie’s lips are just right there. They’re just begging to be kissed.
Thankfully, Eddie seems pleased by his answer. He smiles, dimples and all - oh lord please have mercy on Steve’s soul because he cannot handle the adorableness any longer - as he says, “Well, if Steve Harrington says so, then I will do it.” Then Eddie starts biting his lip, glancing down at the resume they’ve polished together. 
Steve digs his fingernails through the jeans over his thighs, but it’s not enough to bat away the growing temptation to reach forward and brush his fingers over Eddie so the other man wouldn’t abuse his lips anymore. The skin had already been cracked and bleeding in the past few months and it’s always so devastating to see Eddie hurt a part of himself like this.
Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, Steve should kiss him. 
Eddie is right there. While there will be lots of opportunities to have him at Steve’s side, there’ll never be another perfect chance like this. 
Steve leans forward a bit but stops himself. Has Eddie ever been kissed before? If he did, does he like the faint touch of lips brushing together? Like smashed together? Full-on make-out sessions that lead to something more passionate? 
Okay, Steve could work on the slow route. He’s done it before with his previous girlfriends. He could lean in at a snail’s pace so Eddie has enough time to register what’s happening and-
“Steve?”
Suddenly, Eddie’s face is much closer than Steve remembers. He feels a heat of breath against his lips. Then the rush of realization comes over Steve because he was about to kiss Eddie.
Yet despite this, Steve barely feels a sense of embarrassment. He stays in place, staring into Eddie’s wide eyes as they flicker over his face, lingering on Steve’s lips every few seconds. 
Finally, Eddie huffs out a nervous little laugh, “You, uh, listened to what I just said?”
“Hm-mm.” Steve shakes his head. He feels like he’s on cloud nine and whatever Eddie does next, he’s going to scream at the heavens anyway. 
Eddie’s lips form the briefest of smirks, but it’s gone in a blink. They part open slightly. 
Steve can’t hold it anymore. He closes the space between them and meets Eddie’s lips at last. It’s more rough and desperate than he plans it to be and tries to dial it back. But when Eddie kisses him with a similar force, Steve goes screw it and kisses back like it’s their last chance.
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penvisions · 17 days ago
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gone to the dogs {chapter 7}
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Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Summary: Tensions run high as you can't seem to recover from your bout of sickness even though Tess is back on her feet and helping the newest member of your pack sort out some things. Neither of you had told Joel yet, bidding your time until some things are taken care of but you have a feeling it's more than just that if Tess's determined silence is anything to go by...
Word Count:
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, mean joel miller, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), sexual propositions, oral (f receiving), talk of pregnancy, angst, reference to off screen assault, medical jargon, mentions of nausea, mentions of past trauma, mentions of canon death, mentions of past childloss, i think that's it for this one!
Fic notes: we are officially 10 years into the apocalypse! joel is 46 at this point and cane is early 30's, but please imagine her to look anyway you want! these are just rough estimates and descriptions that are not set in stone as per the x reader tradition. simply a way for me to get the story fleshed out a bit c:
A/N: this fic really just got so big and it can't possibly be contained to the original ten chapters when i first started it. these two have really taken the reigns and i am all for letting them develop and flourish as they wish ♡♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi
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Joel scrubs a hard hand over his face, brushing away as much of the ash and dirt as he can as he lowers the bandana wrapped around his head as a mask. It’s not much, but it eases his mind enough for him to keep using it.
He’s been pulling more shifts, as many as they could give him. You and Tess both being sick was something that worried him, stressed him out. The dangers of the end of the world were rampant, too many to count and keep track of. A weakened immune system brought on by fever and sickness was something from Before that he had completely lost the notion of.
Seeing you beaten up and bruised from fights or shows of power, from hard days working whatever shitty physical labor the zone needed done or from crawling your way through the rubble of the fallen city around them in search of things to trade and sell- it was different. Different than seeing you wrapped up in all the thin blankets in the shared apartment, that he could get his hands on only to still see the shivers that rack your body and chitter your teeth together. It was different than seeing you barely manage to keep water down to take the pills he paid far too much for only for you to gag on the weight of it settling in your empty stomach.
The scraps of chicken and bone he managed to trade for had cost so many ration cards. But the medicine, the stock he was able to pull from the bone- all of it was worth it for you and Tess to start to get better.
Well, Tess was better. You were…you were…are still sick. No longer plagued by fevers, cold spells, and heat flashes. But your stomach was unsettled, and your appetite was borderline gone, the weight you dropped a little concerning and the color drained from your skin.
He’s been playing caretaker to whatever extent you’ll allow him when he’s in the privacy of your shared apartment. Even if it’s as simple as refilling your mug with hot water for a second cup of tea, of collecting the bowl you had used to try and eat something with before he got home. He’s willing to do it, to do more. But you won’t let him. Determined to hold onto your independence in a way that both makes him proud and feel a little useless.
So he works. To provide. To make it easier. To give you space. Doing the long standing trades, showing his face more on that side of things while you’re unable to do so. Tess now, too, is back at it and it seems like you’ve given her clear orders on who to trade with and who not to as the weather grows colder.
But right now all he can focus on is the sprawled out form of you on the bed. Sheets and blankets tossed and kicked to the end of the bed and nearly crumpled on the floor as you pant heavy breaths while trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep.
The baser instincts in him rise at the smell of sweat and the sounds your making, the slight groan of the mattress beneath your wiggling form. it’s not that he wants it for himself, well, not just that he wants it for himself. But your body is stressed, it’s fighting, mind and nervous system out of whack. He’s on you the second he steps over the threshold into the room, determined to give you some sort of relief. To give you something else other than seemingly endless days of sickness and being unwilling to leave the building.
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“Joel, ‘m still sick.” You mumble halfheartedly, that tug in your navel letting you know that despite everything, your body still sings for him- because of him. And it’s intoxicating, the immediate reaction as you feel plush lips against your skin, feel the weight of his body so close.
“Don’t matter, want you.”
His kisses are like fire, trailing down from your chin where he nips hard to your neck and chest. Tank top pulled up as carefully as he could manage, ridding you of the thin fabric. His lips close around hardened peaks to pull out desperate sounds from you, so sensitive to the soothing swipe of his tongue after biting teeth. His nose skims across your skin, the sharpness of it driving you wild as his hands make quick work of removing the pants you had fallen asleep in.
His teeth nip gently at the swollen lips of your cunt through the fabric of your underwear before he breaths in deep. “Gonna get you outta your head for a bit.”
And like a switch, your mind and body only focus on him.
The drag of his nose over the same place, the tug of his fingers pulling the now damp fabric down. The hot, thick line of his cock against your legs as he pulls them up to bend into your chest. His tongue swipes flat over your folds, delving between them after, shockwaves of pleasure so intense after experiencing nothing but aches and pains for the last couple of weeks. It pulls a moan deep from your chest, the responsive chuckle earning him another as you feel the vibrations of it skitter across your skin.
He's pulling pleasure from you like he was made for it, his knowledge of your body all he committed to memory and you’re crying out within minutes. His fingers grip the backs of your thighs, spreading them to make room for his body to line of with yours and then he’s pushing in slowly. Through a crack of your eyelid, you see his focus on where the two of you connect, brown eyes dark and hair slicked back save for one stray curl folded over his temple. Teeth gritted and breath hissing as he fills you, slowly, taking in the sight for what it is, feeling it for what it is, living up to his promise to get you out of your head as he bottoms out and your mouth goes slack.
“Theeeere we go, huh, darlin’?” One of his hands snake up to grip your chin gently, pulling your thrown back head toward him. Thick fingers caress the too hot skin there and his eyes soften as your own fly open when he leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, the obscene sound of him pushing in deeper and your walls clenching around him. “Look at those pretty eyes, starin’ up at me with nothing behind them, that’s exactly what we wanted, wasn’t it?”
All you can do it try to nod, his hand so large cradling the side of your face, his lips so tantalizingly close but your body is frozen, the breath caught in your throat as you pulse around him, pleasure rippling through your body as he throbs deep inside you. He must see the way they tremble and he closes his mouth around yours, giving you exactly what you wanted without you needing to ask. When he pulls back, his teeth glint in the faint light seeping in through the window.
“Don’t gotta think about nothin’ else but how full you feel. Deserve to turn your thoughts off and just focus on gettin’ fucked.”
He’s pulling back a bit, his knees caging you in as they squeeze around your hips.
You can barely take a breath before he’s slamming back in and it’s pushed from your lungs.
Over and over again.
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The day starts off normally, a plan in motion to tell Joel once he returns from one of his shifts. Tess spends the day helping to move most of Jean’s stuff out of the shitty apartment she had been given alongside two other single girls. Not enough room for her to even have her own space. But Tess was willing to give up her bedroom and move into the living room to provide some semblance of privacy and control for the young girl. You had taken her to the clinic, as well. Dropped her off and were due to pick her up any moment now, but you’re kneeled down in front of the toilet.
Your own sickness seems to linger while Tess is back in good health. Her color coming back while yours remains pallor, hot flashes and cold spells waring underneath your skin and making you nauseous. You were doing your best to hide the worst of the symptoms from Joel, not wanting him to feel like he needed to use the stock of goods and cards for more medicine that only worked at first. You’re just grateful that awful cough that rattled your brain and hurt your throat was gone, the phlegm that seemed to either clog up your sinuses or run far too freely gone as well. It had been a bad chest cold, same as Tess and you didn’t understand why you were better, but you weren’t…better.
You had given blood at the clinic, just to be cautious.
Because you were beginning to get worried. Between the new responsibility of caring for and protecting Jean, the rather startling reach out from Bill concerning new habits from Frankie he’s developed and the increasing scarcity of things to find in the city, you were feeling a slow simmering panic begin to form in the back of your mind and weigh down your mental and physical resolve.
The cold chill settling in the air wasn’t helping, telling you that it was about to get a while lot worse as the temperature dropped and winter weather became a daily struggle on top of it all. Snow and ice in Boston was normal this time of year, to begin falling from the sky and form on the ground.
Picking Jean up from the clinic was supposed to be a simple task. But you honestly don’t remember much of it. The ringing in your ears had started once the doctor had turned to you and read the results of your own testing. Effectively pulling the entire god damn earth’s crust from beneath your feet. You don’t remember the trek back to the apartment, nor the way that Jean was glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. Bottom lip between teeth as she contemplated commenting on same diagnosis that was read to you.
Shock. You were in shock. Mind reeling from the fact that now there wasn’t just one pregnancy to navigate, but two.
All you know is the startling cold of porcelain seeping through the towel you had placed over the top of the lid as you knelt in the bathroom once again. Stomach heaving and throat burning, heart beating far too fast as you struggled to regain your breath. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, a sharp contrast in how hot they were compared to the tile that surrounded you.
Just as you managed to stand up from your rather humbling position in front of the toilet again, you hear it.
The boom of Joel’s voice through the thin walls.
He was home early.
And Tess must’ve just told him what you two have been handling the past few days.
Keeping as silent on your feet as possible, not wanting to sound the creaks of your aged flooring, you inch into the living room and move into the kitchen. His voice is clear as a bell and angry.
“It’s just another fucking human being that’s going to be subjected to a shitty life and even shittier people. How do you think that kid is gonna feel when they learn about how they were conceived? You think she’s gonna be able to sit her kid down and explain to them the shit she had to endure? That she was raped and it was either go through with the birth or risk her life ending the pregnancy? You think that’s any kind of thing to put on child in this god forsaken world?”
“Joel, she’s scared. She said you told her to come to you for help. And Cane and I are an extension of that-“ Tess’s voice is raised, an attempt to wrangle in Joel’s own but its fruitless. You’ve only heard him sound like this when he deals with less than savory trade partners. You’ve only heard him when it was that first year of knowing him. When he didn’t trust you or share your bed. Before the shadow of a life you two slowly and carefully curated together.
“Just cause y’all are women doesn’t mean you know better about this than me. Don’t you try to pull that sexist bullshit with me, Tess. You know just as well as I do that bringing a new life into this world is a mistake. The risks of pregnancy before were deadly, with the help of machines and medicine. But now?”
He scoffs loud enough for you to hear it through the walls. You don’t flinch, though you know you would’ve once upon a time. There’s truth in his words, no matter how he’s weaponizing it to prove his point. To deny getting involved in the situation.
“Now she’s as good as dead if she goes through with it. And what if she does manage to give birth to a healthy baby and she’s the one stuck paying the price? Bleeds out or needs to be cut open, then there’s just another orphan the system is gonna abuse and use for their twisted sense of righteousness.”
“Joel-“
“She’s gonna be stuck with a kid, do you realize how much time and effort and work is gonna go into that and it’s all gonna fall on us. On me. And I am too fucking old for this shit.” You can hear silence that greets his harsh words, the raw and unfiltered emotions he feels on the matter. You knew Tess had a kid before all this and it must be hard for her to grapple with the reality of the situation. Especially as it brings up memories and her own past emotions. “There is no way in hell this is going to work out.”
“She came to us for help, Joel. You instilled in her that you would look after her, no matter what. And guess what? This is something big! She can live here with me, I can…I can help her through the rough patches, I know what it’s like to have a less than smooth time of it.”
“Tess…”
“I’m going to help her, Joel. From one mother to a prospective one. As a parent, I would think you feel at least a little connected to the issue at hand.” That gave you as much pause as it seemed to Joel. The silence that permeated the air was heavy, crackling tension palpable even through the walls.
“This is dangerous, this is stupid and reckless. Children aren’t a blessing, they’re a curse.” His even but thudding steps could be heard as he makes his way to the door. You’re still in shock a few moments later when it doesn’t slam shut, it doesn’t even open. He must’ve turned around and you can almost picture him looking over his shoulder. All broad and brooding, angry. “This is a mistake.”
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With no other outlet for what you’re feeling, you shove your hands into the sleeves of your jacket and grab your keys from the nails they hang on beside the door. Glancing on the sleeping form of Jean on the couch, you’re relieved that she’s in a deep enough sleep to not hear the harsh words of the man who she had sought out for help.
You don’t even dare glance at the end of the hallway, not knowing what you would do if you glimpsed Joel at this moment.
And that scared you.
That you didn’t know if you would curl up into his chest, wrap your arms around his neck or waist and burrow your face into him. Inhale his scent and be comforted by the way he holds you back. Or if you would scold him for his choice of words, for the way he’s backtracking suddenly as the situation turns now to something he doesn’t have the patience and energy to deal with.
That you didn’t know if the words would immediately fall from your lips or stay lodged in your throat and suffocate you.
He had given Jean his attention, his protection, his word that he would look out for her. And he’s standing there determining the course of her future that would best benefit him. That would work in his favor, to not have to deal with something so monumentally important. The news isn’t the best, it isn’t born of a decision between two consenting adults who are determined to nurture and love. Hell, you aren’t even sure if Jean had ever admitted to wanting to be a mother beyond not feeling right with doing away with her condition. But it was something, it was someone.
Hope. It was hope you were feeling as you sped down the hallway and away from the harsh words that hang in the air.
Hope for a future that isn’t the same damn thing day in and day out. Fighting and hustling for supplies, for food, for water, for space in a crowded zone. That isn’t protecting your territory and your smuggled items, that isn’t holding fast to your going rates as people challenge them and clamor for them because even if you did want to provide things that were hard to find or considered contraband, you still needed to benefit from the effort and skills that go into supplying them.
The news Jean brought to you, born of devastation and immoral means, could be the universe’s push of urging you toward something else. Your own news born of a moment of passion under the influence with someone who you found rare solace and genuine companionship with. The naïve notion of taking it in stride and shifting everything for the better, for the hope of making something of the situation you’ve landed yourself in is a painful one. Cultivating and nurturing goodness back into the world where you could, back into your life that had become so violent and overwhelming in its eat or be eaten nature.
You’ve been violent for so long, have had to be violent for so long. The world demanding it of you if you wanted to survive, to breath, to live to see another tortured day. And all those days that it seemed like too monumental a task, too hard a thing to commit to once again. A flicker of your old, weaker self rising up and arguing that there was no point, that it was useless to survive a hard day and the only reward was another string of them. But now you know why it was imperative that you stuck with it, defending yourself, protected yourself, used teeth and nails and haunting violence to make sure you saw the sun rise each morning and set each night over a world that was decimated beyond help.
And that reason was a phantom weight low in your belly. The new reason you would fight even harder from this point on until the moment you drew your last breath. Your child would know better than you were thrust into, would know better than this broken world and mockery of what was once city life.
You would bite and claw and fight, shoot or slash anything that threatened the life you were determined to give to your child, to give back to her. That younger version of yourself lost piece by piece as things quickly fell, as people gave into temptation and damnation the second civilization crumbled.
You don’t realize the heavy words in your mind are coming out as snarled sounds every time your boots hit the ground with your fast pace. The man Jean had described was walking home, you on his tail and none the wiser about what fate was about to deliver. What you were about to deliver.
Crazy bitch. Depraved dog. Ruthless.
His insults don’t mean anything, as you stalk him through the streets and down the hallway that leads to his apartment. His pained groans and stuttered breaths mean nothing to you as you land hit after hit, they don’t give insight to anything but satisfaction that curls your lips up at the corners.
His words, Joel’s words, ring in your ears as you feel the impact of your knuckles on the man’s face. Each punch, each hit landing as the echo inside your head gets louder and louder. Those are the only ones that mean anything, the only thing that fuels your violence. The man crumpled beneath your knees deserving of every last bit even more so and you’re convinced he would feel the exact same way. He would see his own actions as righteous, taking what was his, what was deserved- the consequences not on his mind nor something he would feel like needs his attention. An afterthought, the result of an assault he forced on someone.
All of it, everything in the entire world was just- mistake, mistake, mistake. After goddamn mistake.
But this? Delivering retribution on the man who is weaker than you ever were, it feels right. It feels like something you’re meant to do. Despite the depravity and brutality of the sentence you’ve given him, it’s a step in the right direction. It’s a step toward a better future.  
Please. Stop. I’ll do anything you want. Take anything you want. Please- no…no!
And then he’s no longer breathing the air he doesn’t deserve.
With bruised hands, swollen knuckles and aching fingers you gather everything in his apartment into his own duffle bags hidden beneath the bed.
You leave the apartment, ignoring the cracked doorways as people peek through them to see what the scuffle was about, who had been target this time- the only thing left inside besides dirty linens and dishes is his body with a note stabbed into his chest with his pocket knife.
Don’t mess with my people.
Signed off with a stamp of ink in the shape of a paw.
And though it’s far too early to feel the weight in your belly, something settles there and you feel it the entire walk back to the apartment building, even as you stand at the sink and wash the blood from your hands. The stain of it lingers even with the aid of soap and cold water.
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His figure used to be refreshing, a comforting thing to see at the end of every tumultuous day. But now, your eyes track him, take him in as if he posed a threat. As if he had done anything other than simply walk into the room, his muscles rippling with the action of removing his jacket. His scruff a dark shadow in the low light that glitters when the gray there catches the light. He’s so broad, the entire doorway filled by the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. The same body you found comfort in when it curled around you or pressed down upon you. But now, it’s as if a stranger has strutted into your home for all that had happened recently.
Large, calloused hands reach for his belt, remove with a simple pull through the fabric holding it in place and you feel nausea rise at the spike of desire that pools between your legs. Feelings and urges war with each other in your mind and heart, body reacting to his as he approaches. Your head tilting into the cradle of his palm even as your mind screams at you that he doesn’t care. This is the same man who had declared loudly and determinedly that he wanted no part in the situation at hand. The one that involved a child. He hadn’t known his words were not only for another woman but for you too.
“You okay, darlin’? You look a little waxy there. The meds workin’ alright or do I need to go and get some more from the infirmary?”
“Fine, Joel.”
“Hey,” His eyes search yours as he tips your chin up, locking onto them and trying to find out what you’re not voicing. But he can’t seem to, because his brow furrows and the corners of his lips pull down. “You sure?”
“Had to take someone out, is all. Muscles weren’t used to being used like that.” The admittance doesn’t lift any of the weight in your chest, but the words are out. No longer caged between your ribs with the other secrets you now carry.
“Tell me you didn’t.” He takes a step back, and he’s not upset…but he’s- something. How were you supposed to know it was fear, when you swallowed yours down so long ago?
“I’ll tell you I did, because it needed to be done. He didn’t deserve to breath anymore. He forced her, Joel. He manipulated her long before that and then when she was finally free from him, he goes and-“
“You shoulda let me handle it.”
“Why? Because I’m too weak?” The snarl in your words has him removing his hand from you, giving you space. He lets out a heavy breath as he realizes the way you had taken his worry, his fear.
The room is crackling, the energy flowing from you having built up for days, weeks now. It hadn’t bothered you at first, it hadn’t bothered you at all. Until someone had made a comment that you had been made to heel, fucked into your rightful place. Just as you had been leaving the clinic earlier that day. You had been preoccupied, yes that’s true, but that didn’t mean you had taken a step to the side and allowed for authority to shift. You had simply begun to focus more on finding things that would not only benefit the anticipated needs of the zone’s occupants, but of Bill and Frank as well. Then you had gotten sick, all of that paired with the reality you were facing alongside Jean and no one could blame you for the whirlwind that had replaced your heart.
“You’re just tired, is all. Not weak, I could’ve been there for backup.” He tries to keep calm, but you can see the way the muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks from the collection of items on the dining table, to where you had made up a nest of sorts on the couch as you had tried to get some time out of the bed you really should be swathed in to recover. “Let’s get you another dose of meds and maybe a shower.”
And you know he isn’t trying to belittle your emotions or step around them. He’s seeing them for what they are, as least as best he can. He knows you’re overwhelmed, that small things grow into big things over time, and this is one of those moments where you realize that they have and it’s completely out of your control.
“‘M fine.” You can’t help the snap of your teeth as you clench your teeth, head pounding and stomach turning. You hadn’t left for days but you had heard the rumors going around as you and Tess all but disappeared from the scene when you both fell sick. Determined to get out and reclaim some semblance of control, you reach for your coat. The clack of plastic makes you freeze, worried that the object got shoved from the depths of the inside pocket it’s hidden in.
Joel takes the moment to come up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. Grounding himself and attempting to ground you too, knowing there was no stopping you if you wanted to get some space. You know he wouldn’t take that from you, try to control that part of you. He needed space sometimes too, even on the good days. But this wasn’t one of them, this was a bad day. A monumentally bad one. And it’s made even heartbreakingly worse by the confession he breathes into the back of your neck, his forehead pressed to back of your head as he inhales your scent. Don’t go. Love you. Need you safe while you’re sick.
You freeze, processing.
Love you. Love you. Love you.
It echoes in your mind, his voice caressing and soothing despite everything. It calms you enough to take a deep breath, to try and center yourself for the barest of moments.
And it sounds so good, his voice quietly voicing the warmth and affection that had developed, that had been carefully cultivated between you two over the years. But as good as they sound, they don’t bring you the comfort you know he hopes that they will. Because he’s already undermined the sentiment, he’s already crumbled the very foundation of what you two stand on. It breaks your heart a little to not return the words, even as you feel them harden and catch in the middle of your throat.
“You gotta know that, by now.” He fills the silence as your body tenses in his hold.
But the timing of it, the words he had spoken so devoutly just the previous day are like shrapnel stuck in your skin, burning and stinging. No amount of picking at them will take away the damage they’ve done, clear the burns and the irritation, the pain.
“Didn’t know you were the type of man who cast aside a pregnant woman who came to you for help. A woman who you’ve done nothing but try and watch out for until this point.” Your voice is a whisper, anger bubbling up, heartbreak spilling your chest open, body almost numb from the way everything was so poetically fucked.
“You’re right, I’ve done nothing but try and watch out for her. And guess what? She still got hurt, she still got assaulted, she’s still in this goddamn situation that has no good outcomes!” He’s pulling away, you turn to face him. The darkness that had fallen as night settled is not longer comforting against the onslaught of photophobia you had been experiencing all day. Now it feels suppressive, it feels like you’re in a cage that you can’t escape from. The words Joel had said and is now saying are like locks, connecting together in a twisted way to make you feel the weight of how they can’t possibly be coming from the same person.
“Is it really that bad of a situation?”
“Is it- for fuck’s sake, Cane.” He scrubs a wide palm over his face, the scruff of his neck bristling at the action and causing goosebumps to sprout all along your arms. “I think I get a decent read on you and then you go and ask somethin’ like that. Do you not see how this will affect us? Affect everything we try to do to survive?”
His voice has shifted from anger to something that rings warning bells in your head, it’s not desperation and its not beseeching. But there’s something in the deep timbre that alights your nerves and makes you feel as if everything between you will be determined in the next choice of words. Despite how you feel, despite the way things have been going, the groove you’ve found with him and Tess. Despite the smuggling getting harder but still holding a majority of the supplies and power, and how Joel returns to you every night. Despite it all, the phantom weight you feel low in your middle compels the words that leave your lips next.
“I’m not even sure if I know what love truly is but if it’s not what I feel for you then I have no clue. It’s never simple and perhaps it just speaks to how I’m meant to be alone.”
“What’s more simple than telling me how you feel?” His eyes are narrowed, though you see the way his irises are blown out. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s panicking, but he’s not…he’s hadn’t expected anything other than reciprocation. And it breaks your heart, the chasm in your chest deepening as you realize you can’t gift them to him as easily as you would’ve been able to just twenty-four hours prior.
“Because I heard you, Joel!” Your words leave you in a shout, an angry frustrated cry that bursts from your chest. Unable to quell the spike of emotions, this wasn’t just about Jean anymore. “I heard you talking about how that girl you’ve taken under your wing suddenly means nothing to you the second you can’t handle the situation. The things you said, the fucking vitriol in your voice when you talked about an innocent, a baby.”
“That’s what changed your mind? Affected everything I’ve done in the past four years, we’ve done in the past four years.”
“Yes! Because you- it- because it was so hateful. Like, I get it, Joel, really. You’re a big scary man, you’ve got the brooding scowl down and the razor sharp glare, but she needs our help with this. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I’m not about to tell her what to do with her own body. You cannot be so daft to not think that that’s not going to alter the way I think about you at least a little.”
He doesn’t seem to know how to respond, his full lips pull down into a deep frown and his brow furrows, but he doesn’t say anything else. His eyes hard, sharp on you as he watches the way you shrug your jacket on and stand in front of the door. With a hand on the knob, you look back over your shoulder with a set expression, not willing for him to see any glimpse of what’s going on in your head.
“I’m going to take Jean to Lincoln. It’ll be safer for her there, better place to raise her mistake.”
The instinct to run, to protect, to build for not one but two mistakes settles deep in your bones as you realize the notion was a solitary one. Joel’s own instincts clashing with yours. Preservation and protection flare up and make you defensive, make you willing to walk away from the life you created with someone you love, to deny them the last true thing that makes life worth living- of loving and being loved in return, they allow you push through the heartache of leaving it all behind.
“I’ll be staying there to help her through everything.”
You don’t hear the whispered plea to not leave that falls from his lips, eclipsed by the sound of the slamming door. Or you do, and it push it from your memory for all the pain it brings to recall it.  
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lila-lou · 1 year ago
Text
✨ His only exception - Pt. 2/? ✨
Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only! light smut, language, Soldier boy being too rough
Word Count: 1121
A/N: This is part 2 of "His only exeption".
English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
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As quickly as Ben smashed his lips into yours, you couldn’t even understand what was happening. Your whole body was covered in goosebumps that Ben caused as he pressed you against the cool wall behind you. Unwitting, he tightened his grip on your upper arms until it hurt.
Before you could even return the kiss, you pressed your palms against his chest as hard as you could, trying to push Ben away from you. At the same time, you turned your head to the side, which surprised Ben enough to pull his head back.
“The fuck, Ben! What’s wrong with you!”, you breathed, shocked and slightly disappointed. Ben, on the other hand, just furrowed his brows and looked at you, the corners of his mouth not even twitching. His expression was colder than ever. Without another word, he turned away from you and headed towards his room.
"I'm talking to you!", you said a little louder as you caught up with him and slapped his broad back from behind. Not particularly hard, although you could never hurt him anyway. At least physically.
“Leave me the fuck alone!”, he slapped your arm away, at the level of your wrist, way too roughly, which ended with an audible crack. A short, pained scream escapes your mouth, apparently loud enough to wake up Butcher and Frenchie.
“Fuck (y/n)! I... didn't mean-", Ben started, but his voice broke when Butcher and Frenchie came out of their rooms and saw you and Ben facing each other in the hallway. Butcher was just as dumbfounded as you. His gaze fell on your wrist, which you were clutching with your free hand, your eyes already glazed over with pain.
“Oi! What the fuck is going on?!”, Butcher grumbled with his arms crossed, looking from you to Ben as Frenchie walked towards you. “Nothing”, you whispered as Ben tried to open his bedroom door, but Butcher grabbed his forearm.
"You don't fucking want that Buddy!", Ben growled threateningly, his head turned to the side just enough to maintain eye contact with Butcher. He ripped his arm out of Butcher's grasp and looked at you one more time before disappearing into his room with a loud slam of the door. It was a miracle the door wasn't broken.
Butcher, driven by the fact that he was now permanently a supe, was about to drag Ben out of his room, but your voice stopped him.
“Leave him alone! Please”, you murmured, almost pleading.
Meanwhile, Frenchie examined your wrist and led you to the couch where you sat down. He quickly found a pressure bandage and wrapped it around your wrist as carefully as possible while you couldn't help but let out a small whimper.
“Now, can you tell me why Soldier Boy is pissed like hell and your hand looks like you taped it upside down?!”. Butcher was anything but rays of sunshine. He never was, but even less right now. However, you couldn't blame him. It was the middle of the night and the scene he found wasn't exactly promising.
Even though Ben had behaved quite peacefully, aside from his orgy escapades, Butcher still didn't trust him. However, he had gotten used to you by now. You could almost say he liked you.
 "It's not a big deal. It was an accident", you murmur, looking back at your wrist. "I... provoked him". Your acting must have been pretty good because Butcher obviously didn't question your statement.
“And why are you doing such bullshit? You know him and his fucking temper! Fuck. This guy is a fucking ticking nuke...literally!", he raised his eyebrows at the end of his sentence, as if he was slightly impressed by his pun.
“I know, I know”, you mumbled.
“All done, mon Coeur,” Frenchie said quietly before getting up and disappearing into his room without a word.
 “Butcher, look, he-”.
He didn’t even let you finish your sentence. Instead, he waved at you and muttered some words under his breath. “Just stay away from him. You’re doing yourself a favor, believe me”. Butcher’s gaze traveled from your face, down your body, back to your wrist. His furrowed eyebrows showed he was deep in thought. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then stopped. Without saying another word, he walked barefoot back into his room and rubbed his hand on the back of his head, slightly overwhelmed.
With a deep sigh, you sank back onto the sofa and closed your eyes. Your head hurt more than your wrist as your left hand slowly moved to your mouth.
Lost in thought, your index and middle fingers slid over your lips as you reminisced about the kiss with Ben. Those little thoughts alone were enough to make your heart stumble. It felt like a hot ball was traveling from your heart through your stomach straight between your legs.
You couldn't imagine that one kiss was enough to make you see Ben completely differently. You could still taste his lips, whiskey mixed with weed and mint. What would have happened if you hadn't broken the kiss? How far would Ben have gone? How far would you have gone? Your thoughts slowly but surely drifted away. You looked around. The living room was still dimly lit. Everyone was back in their rooms and you were alone. While your injured wrist rested on the armrest, your other hand automatically slipped into your shorts.
“Oh hell no! Don't fucking do this to me! Not now!”, Soldier Boy growled almost desperately as he heard your rapid heartbeat and breathing, while he lay on his bed. It wasn't the first time he had listened to you getting yourself off. And well, you're definitely helped him quite a lot without even knowing it. You always tried to suppress your moans and make your movements slow and quiet, but Ben was always so focused on you that his ears would immediately perk up when you gave yourself a hand.
At first, he was a little surprised that he couldn't stop focusing on it, but after a few weeks he was really enjoying it.
At the moment, however, it was pure torture. His emotions were already overwhelming him, so there was no way he needed to be any hornier than he already was. Especially after he had just hurt you in more ways than one.
However, his cock clearly had more to decide than his head or his heart.
Meanwhile, you couldn't stop yourself. As you pumped two fingers inside you, your thoughts were on Ben. You imagined feeling his lips on yours again, his rough hands on your hips. You imagined what it would feel like if your fingers were his. Or something else.  
_
Part 3
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Taglist: @deangirl96
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suskz · 9 months ago
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Guess who’s back~
hello my lovely angel <3
I was gonna recommend anonymously again but we need the pic.
so. Remember when chan broke us with this:
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I was thinking about what if chan, like, handcuffed you to the bed? Being all rough and shit. Yep. I’m ill lol. So I was just wondering if you weren’t too busy if a fic/drabbles on the table? have a good day/night
remember to eat and drink water💕💕💕
Hi sweetie ♡
Need to say that rough sex with Chan has me on my knees 🛐
I’m sorry that it took so long for it to be finished. I rewrote ur ask like 3 times cuz I didn’t like the way it was coming out lol.
Then I found the right idea, but I’m not totally satisfied with how I wrote it in some parts. Still hope you like it!!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
pairing: Bang Chan x fem!Reader
w/c: 2,5k
tw: smut ; rough sex ; dirty talk ; degradation kink ; praising kink ; choking ; handcuffing ; established relationship ; clit play ; it’s not specified, but there are safe-words between them, anyway reader doesn’t use any of them ; bruises.
When you see them, your eyes cling to the shiny pink metal you just found at the bottom of your boyfriend’s closet.
You take them and you turn them over in your hands, observing them carefully. It’s part of the toys he’s used in the past, just not with you.
Your relationship is quite new, and you haven't really discussed your sexual preferences yet. In fact, you're still discovering them, being new to your first romantic relationship. But the way your heart beats faster, your cheeks flush, and you feel a certain tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach at the images that come to mind at the thought of what he might do with those handcuffs, it leaves you with some questions.
But when you hear his voice calling you, you realize you've paused too long. You place them back in their spot and pick up the light white blanket he asked you to retrieve, which had been covering the heart-shaped handcuffs you've just discovered.
When you return to the living room, he’s putting the movie on TV. After cuddling up on the couch, with him half-lying down and you on top of him, covering yourselves with the blanket, he makes it start.
But you can't focus on it because of your previous discovery. Your desire to try it is so high. You think it's time to try introducing something new into sex, and that could be a good start. The only thing left to do is to ask. If only it were that simple.
"Channie…" his name escapes from your lips before you can rethink.
"Mh?" he directs his attention to you without taking his eyes off the TV.
Only when you raise your head to look at him does he do the same, locking eyes with yours.
"Well..." you say, unsure, "I found a c-couple of handcuffs under this blanket, in your closet," your voice comes out more stuttering than you want it to.
"Oh," he says surprised; he doesn't remember leaving them there, "I must have left them there by mistake, I'll put them back in place another time; thanks for telling me, I guess," he observes you closely, "Is there something wrong?".
"Uh... well," there's a small moment of silence, and finally you find the courage to tell him, "I thought we could try them." you take your eyes away from his, looking down, and you're thankful that there's no light in the room other than the one emitted by the TV because you feel your cheeks and ears start to burn.
The movie is long forgotten, and you expect questions from him, but he simply nods. He places two fingers under your chin and lifts your head so you can look him in the eyes, "Do you want to try now?".
"I mean, if you want to...".
"I want it," he replies immediately, "Now, be a good girl and go to the bedroom to undress while I tidy up here, okay?"
You nod quickly and head to the bedroom. You hear some noise in the living room and figure Chan is rearranging things while waiting for you to be ready for him.
You get rid of your pants and shirt, remaining only in your underwear, since you're not wearing a bra. You wonder if you should also take off your panties, but then you remember how much he enjoys touching you over them and seeing them get wet for him, so you keep them on.
You take the handcuffs from the closet and place them on the bed next to where you sit cross-legged, waiting for him.
And a few minutes later, you hear the door of the room open and you raise your head in his direction.
He pauses for a moment at the door, gazing at you, and his lips curl into a smirk. You feel your cheeks warm slightly as you watch him approach you.
He reaches you on the bed and positions himself over you, making you slide back until you're lying beneath him.
"I told you to undress completely, didn’t I?" he looks into your eyes, and before you can respond, one of his hands firmly grabs your inner thigh and you gasp slightly at the sudden touch, "But I won’t complain." He leans in over you and captures your lips with his.
He kisses you deeply and slowly, exploring your mouth with his tongue and intertwining it with yours. The room would be completely enveloped in silence if not for the subtle slurp of your tongues intertwining and the soft sighs escaping from your lips.
His hand that was on your tigh now begins to go up your body, brushing your core with his thumb in the process, continuing up your stomach and stopping at your breast, which he grasps, making sure to have your nipple between two of his fingers. He brings his two fingers together slightly to pinch it lightly, and the slight moan he elicits from you makes him repeat the action.
He breaks away from the kiss only for a moment; while his thumb teases your nipple, his other hand grips your inner thigh to open your legs further and lower his hips onto yours, pressing gently, which becomes rougher as you resume kissing, making both of you moan and making you feel how hard he is in his pants.
Before pulling away, he bites your lip, and then you look into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily. Your lips are red and swollen from the kiss, and he smiles, looking at you.
Finally, one of his hands reaches your most intimate part, sliding his thumb along it, feeling how wet you’ve made your panties, “Did I get you all worked up without even touching you properly?” he teases you.
You give him a fiery look, “The situation here tells me the same about you.” You reach for the crotch of his pants, grabbing and squeezing it, making him gasp. He returns your gaze and lightly slaps your pussy before lifting his body from yours, still remaining between your legs.
His gaze falls on the handcuffs next to you, and he takes them in his hands, observing them. “You’re just waiting for the moment when I fuck you with these, aren’t you?” he huffs a little chuckle through his nose. “First choking, now these; you like being submissive, huh? Leaving me in control of everything.” there’s a slight edge in his voice that shows how truly turned up he is. Just the fact that you’re trusting him so much, letting him have total control of your body, makes his mind slightly dizzy.
He looks at you and sees the desperation now colouring your features. “Now, face down, ass up”.
You do as you’re told, turning over and raising your ass, and putting your forearms on the bed to keep yourself slightly up so that your face isn’t pressed into the pillow. But without warning, his hands grab your arms and put them behind your back. You feel his hand just above your wrist, and then cold metal touching your skin, and you feel a shiver run through your entire body at the sensation.
His hand tightens its grip on your hip while the thumb of the other presses against your entrance, making your panties even wetter, then he pulls them down to your ankles. He would like to play with you a bit more, but he doesn’t feel that patient right now.
He lowers his pants and boxers just enough to pull out his cock, and you feel arousal coursing through your entire body at the thought of him fucking you with his clothes still on while you’re completely naked underneath him at his mercy.
He grabs the underside of your asscheeks —and beginning of your thighs—, spreading them apart and taking a good look at your hole clenching around nothing; then, one of his hands breaks away from your skin to slide two of his fingers inside, making you whimper.
You move your hips back and forth to the rhythm of his fingers, which is fucking slow, but his other hand tightens harder where it grips your skin, as a warning. And you hope it bruises.
He pulls them out and wipes them on one of your cheeks, and without any warning, he enters you in one swift motion, immediately starting to move without giving you time to settle properly.
“S-slow down—“ you ask him breathlessly, but he doesn’t.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” his breath is heavy, “To be tied up and used the way I like, huh?”. At his words, you clench around his cock, making him moan and grip your hips tightly.
He lowers himself onto you and rests his hands on the bed. Your face is pressed into the pillows as you try to stifle your moans. But it’s difficult with the way his cock moves so skilfully inside you, hitting your weak spots, making it so hard to hold back that you’re breathless and think about asking him to stop for a moment. You’re not usually so shy and never try to hold back your moans, but this time is different, maybe because of the handcuffs? You don’t even know.
But he notices. He stops, slides an arm under your breast, and lifts your body. His other hand grabs the headboard of the bed for balance.
His tongue licks that patch of skin behind your ear where you’re sensitive, “Why aren’t you making yourself heard?” he whispers and starts moving again, “I want to hear how good I make you feel, so don’t you dare hold back again.” it sounds like a threat, but you ignore that as his movements become faster than before, and soon he makes you fall back onto the bed, with half of your face on the pillows but your nose and mouth free, and this time you make yourself heard loud and clear.
“Good girl.” if the nickname didn’t make you moan loudly enough, his hand gripping your nape to choke you and push your head down definitely did.
With every thrust, you feel yourself on the verge of coming and you fucking love this so much.
Suddenly, you feel him stop, and your wrists are freed; but you don’t have time to understand what’s happening or to complain before he pulls his cock out of you and you’re turned onto your back.
He takes your arms and brings them to the headboard of the bed, where he puts the handcuffs back on you, securing them to it.
And then, he looks at you.
He observes your entire body, from your tear-streaked face with saliva-coated lips, to your wet, stretched out pussy, begging to be filled again.
Finally, your brain starts to reason again, and if possible, your cheeks flush an even deeper red. You feel exposed. You want to cover yourself with your arms, and you try, but the metallic noise that comes out reminds you of the situation you’re in. You try to close your legs —as much as you can with him in between them— but his hands roughly grasp your inner thighs, spreading them apart again.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hives you a disapproving look, “Why should you hide from me, huh?” He seems annoyed, mad, and you shrink under his judgmental gaze. “I don’t think you deserve my dick inside you again. Maybe I should leave you like this: handcuffed to the bed, naked and needy for the rest of the night. What do you think about that?”.
You feel like crying at his words. He couldn’t really do that, could he?
You shake your head quickly.
“Obviously, a slut like you just wants to be filled with dick all the time,” he takes his cock in hand and slaps the tip against your clit, and as you moan freely, he suppresses the groan that tries to escape his lips. “isn’t that right?”.
“Please.”
“Please what?” he responds coldly, looking down on you.
“Put it in, please.” you beg him, looking at him with pleading eyes.
“What if I don’t?”.
You feel tears of frustration forming at the corners of your eyes, “Channie…”
He slaps his tip against your clit again, drags it to your hole, “You’ll cry if I don’t put it in, won’t you? What a crybaby.”, and then he finally pushes it in.
He starts thrusting into you again, a little slower this time, but deeper than before.
Again, you feel the need to grab onto something, anything, but you can’t, and this makes you frustrated.
He places his hand on your stomach and presses, “Feel it” he moans, “feel my cock pushing inside you”. When your mind registers his words and you glance down at his hand, he removes it, and you can clearly see the outline of his cock bulging from your belly.
This is what makes you both feel close to the edge.
Chan feels he can’t hold out much longer. His hand reaches down where your bodies meet and takes your clit between two fingers, lightly pinching it.
"Are you about to come? Huh? You want to come, don’t you?".
"Please, daddy please." Your eyes are closed and your head thrown back into the pillows, so you don't see the way his face tightens at your words. A loud groan leaves his lips and your walls are painted with white spurts of hot cum. You follow right after him.
You don't realize you've blacked out for a while until you open your eyes and see Chan filling your chest and shoulders with sweet kisses.
He looks at you, and finally his gaze is soft and relaxed, “How was it?” he asks you attentively.
You smile, “Amazing, as always”.
“Good.” He kisses you sweetly on the lips.
Afterward, he takes a warm cloth and cleans you, puts another pair of underwear on you, and one of his shirts simply because he likes to see you wearing his stuff, while he puts on his boxers.
He applies a soothing lotion on your wrists as you talk about how you felt, and finally, he lies down in bed with you, covering both of you with the blanket.
You rest your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat relaxes you as he strokes your hair.
“Was I too rough?” he asks, needing to make sure you don’t feel any pain.
“A bit, but I also liked it because of that”.
"I wasn’t too mean, right? Everything was good?" he's sure you would have told him if it was too much for you, but he still feels the need to hear confirmation from you that everything is okay.
“No, everything was perfect, baby, don't worry," you stroke his side.
“Good," he says, feeling more relaxed, "sleep now." he caresses your shoulder.
You already feel your eyes can't stay open any longer, but you still lift your head to give him a goodnight kiss.
And you fall asleep like that, in each other's arms, in the relaxing silence of the night and the sound of your hearts beating for each other.
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carmenberzattosgf · 1 year ago
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u know what i think about ALL THE TIME… carmy being like, REALLY pissed off and truly at the end of his rope while you’re one of his staff members. you guys have been friends for a while with some simmering tension building between you two, but it’s never been fully explored.
the two of you have been fighting all day and it reaches a boiling point where he all but drags you outside (presumably to scream at you some more), but INSTEAD he grabs the back of your neck and bends you over face-first onto some empty pallets behind the restaurant. “you don’t want this, then get up and walk away.” and you’d be mouth open gasping, but STAYING THERE cuz you’re tryna see what happens. after a beat of silence, he pulls your pants down and roughly fucks you right then and there. he’d still be angry, with some terse kind of “you still want to keep running your fucking mouth?” punctuated by sharp, deep thrusts that make you clench your teeth together to avoid screaming 😍🤸 and you’d have to walk back inside on shaking legs a few minutes later trying to pretend that carmy’s cum isn’t dripping down your thighs💕💕
anyway that’s all JDHSKDJSKSK
ANON????? OH MY GOD?????? IM FREAKING OUT OVER THIS??? Like you just put a whole blurb in my ask box I am so honored and flattered???? Expansion on this under the cut!!
Dude dude dude. Yes. So you’ve been working at the bear for a few months now. It’s been months of built up tension between you and Carmy. Carmy knows, and you know it’s more than just a simple friendship between the two of you.
Carmy tries to keep it professional. He really tries. But, his attempts make him more cold and blunt towards you, which culminates in the big fight. It’s over something stupid really, but he gets so fucking pissed because it’s been one thing after another this day. He flips out over you not having a “properly cleaned station”.
“Chef. How many fucking times do I have to tell you to clean up your goddamn station? Look at this shit. It’s a mess.” He yells, pointing to your station.
“Are you being serious right now? I’m in the middle of fucking prep. How the hell am I suppose to keep it clean during prep when I haven’t finished yet-“
Carmen cuts you off in the middle of your sentence. “Syd! Take over y/n’s prep.”
“What the fuck, Carmen?” He doesn’t answer your question, instead he pulls you out of the kitchen by your wrist. Once he gets you out the back door of the restaurant, you expect some kind of explanation for his behavior. “What? Couldn’t yell at me for no reason in front of everyone else?”
Carmy is on you in an instant. His strong hand engulfs the back of your neck, leading you to a stack of empty pallets before bending you over it. He stands behind you, hand still on the back of your neck, but not holding you down anymore. Your mind races, but one thing is clear. Carmy’s hard dick is pressing your ass.
“If you don’t want this, get up and walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened.” He leans down to whisper in your ear. Carmy’s voice is rough, full of desire. Your breathing picks up, but you don’t dare move. Instead, you whine when he rolls his hips against your ass. “Fucking knew you would want me like this. Such a fucking slut aren’t you?”
Carmy wastes no time to pull down your pants and underwear all in one go. You bite your lip, trying not to moan when his fingers run through your folds. “So nasty to be this wet in an alleyway for me where anyone can see.” You should be humiliated. Your boss has you bent over for him in an alleyway, but all you can do is beg for more.
“Please. Please please please.” You cry out, not even quite sure what you’re asking for. You hear the sound of him undoing his belt, and his cock enters you with no warning. He doesn’t go slow, filling you up to the hilt in one quick thrust. You cry out in surprise; he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before. He starts fucking into you a second later, setting a quick pace with his hands digging into your hips. Your fingers dig into the pallets in front of you, desperate to find something to hold onto.
“Fuck- maybe this will teach you to stop running that mouth of yours and listen to me.” He practically moans out, thrusting deep and hard into you. “You need to learn to behave.”
“S-sorry chef. I’ll d-do better.” You feel his movements falter at the title, before he picks back up the pace, hitting even deeper inside of you. You’re already seeing stars, nearing your climax. “C-chef, please I’m so close.”
“Yeah? Going to come for your boss in a filthy alleyway?” One of his hands leaves your hip to touch your clit, rubbing fast circles with his callused fingers. “Go on then. Come around my cock like the slut you are.” He was losing himself too. His voice is rough and thin as he speaks.
It only takes a few more seconds before you come, biting into your hand so you don’t scream. Carmy’s pace falters before you feel him spill into you with a muffled groan.
He pulls out of you promptly without a word, stepping back to put back on his own pants. You stay in the same position, trying to catch your breath.
“Be back at your station in five minutes” Carmen says, walking back into the restaurant. You quickly pull up your pants, trying to ignore the feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of you. You don’t have any spare pants in your locker. You’re going to have to work through the rest of your shift with his cum running out of you and down your thighs.
You swallow your pride and go back inside to your station. Everyone else thinks Carmy just scolded you outside of the restaurant, so no one says a word when you return, taking back over your prep from Sydney.
Yeah let’s just say that’s not the last time Carmen fucks you in the middle of a shift. I’m thinking a nice fuck buddies relationship forms after this hehe.
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