#so it seems you and I are on the same page anon
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creatingblackcharacters · 2 days ago
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Question 6 anon here, obvs u rlly don't have to but if u wanna argue w/ my comment pls do argue, if I'm full of shit I wanna hear it 👍 This question has been driving me up the wall for years I just want to know why ppl all seem to agree fandom racism is bad and agrees with all the arguments and yet everything's still so racist and would appreciate different perspectives
I just think that the idea you have, that the people who are racist and aren't don't hang in the same circles, is just fundamentally not true.
Like sure, Trumpers might not click on my blog to learn about designing Black characters lol. But a good majority of the antiblackness I've seen on this website has come from people who swear they're liberal or progressive or fight for some cause for something that they deem important... And then just don't apply that grace and logic to Black people. So you'll see people saying intelligent things... and hate negroes 🤣. And then you'll see those people being reblogged en masse by people who agree with their good takes... And maybe don't know about the antiblackness they were just spewing. Not that you can tell who does and doesn't, out of the tens of thousands.
So yes, y'all do hang in the same circles. Yes, the people who need this page very much are also people around you. We have to stop acting like they aren't. I have mutuals who reblog people that I won't follow, simply because I've seen those people keke-ing it up with antiblack, whitewashing bloggers. Even the distant connection there is enough for me to be like "nah, unfortunately I can't kick it with you", even though we're in the same fandoms and such.
Essentially, the call is more often coming from inside the house, and the unwillingness to approach it from within because "oh I'M not racist" is preventing it being answered. Every antiblack sentiment you see in fandom isn't gonna look like an overt slur. It's gonna be in the way people perceive and treat Black characters versus others, in the way they treat Black character design, the way they allow others to slide when they are racist because "their art is cool". That tolerance I've been talking about? That's where you see the line for people, and it's so much closer than folks think.
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cozylittleartblog · 1 year ago
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I want to buy a sticker from your shop, but shipping (to Canada) is down as $22 before tax. May I ask why it costs so much to ship a single sticker? Is it Etsy being weird, or does it really cost that much to send an envelope over the border?
I'm not trying to be snarky or passive aggressive or anything, I'm genuinely just kind of befuddled atm.
A fair question honestly! USPS sets the rates for international shipping, and shipping to canada really is about that expensive 😭 I considered sending stickers via envelopes, but 1. if I send them with a stamp (less than $2) they don't have tracking, and etsy Does Not Like That. I gotta send packages with shipping to qualify for star seller, plus it covers your ass in case USPS loses it. and 2. apparently it's illegal to send merchandise internationally in envelopes!! so sadly we're all stuck dealing with the super crazy international rates. I don't like it either because as someone who deals in trinkets, people generally do not want to pay $16 for a charm that costs $12, and they especially don't want to pay that for a sticker that costs $4... I would ABSOLUTELY have way more international sales if USPS wasn't fucking us with the prices but it's out of my control dssdjkfjksdf
I give this advice a lot, but if you don't want to pay international shipping (or just live in a country I don't ship to myself), you can borrow the address of a friend that lives in the states and they can forward it to you! I don't actually know if this is cheaper, but some people have said it is. it's def cheaper for stickers though if your friend uses a stamp!
TL;DR yeah etsy and USPS are Both Weird, sorry ; - ; i assure you i hate it even More than you do lmao
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nightmare-niko · 2 months ago
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Pretty When You Cry [Father Charlie Mayhew x reader]
pt. 2
Word Count: 1916
Warnings: manhandling, kinda munch! Charlie, one slap, mean! Dom Charlie, blasphemy (they fuck in the church😬)
A/N: not my gifs! I have the originals reblogged on my page😘 this was actually already being written and then I got an anon request for basically exactly what I was already writing!! Hope ya like it hehe 🙃 i also dont really ever write like this kind of smut so i hope i did good!!
Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
You weren't a religious person by any means. But staying the night at your parents had you up early, trying to find the most church-appropriate outfit. of course, your parents failed to tell you that they were planning on bringing you along to church. Your skirt was a bit too short. But it is not like you had room to complain with such short notice!
You remember going to high school with Father Charlie— or as you knew him Charlie. The two of you didn't run with the same crowds-- but you knew each other.
Now, here you were. Paying no attention to the words coming from his mouth and all attention to how good he looked. Damn-- maybe you should have shot your shot years ago when he was a personal trainer.
As you watched him at the head of the room, you allowed your mind to wander.
One extremely long and boring sermon later, you stand awkwardly behind your parents as they talk to what Seems like every member of the church. God how you regret agreeing to come-- It's not like you knew anyone here- none of your friends went to church. But here you were, being judged by middle-aged churchgoers. How fun.
The sound of your name being called catches your attention.
You whip your head around to the noise, "Father Charlie!" The name is unnatural as it falls from your lips. You quickly look at your parents- too engrossed in a conversation. “It's been a while!" You awkwardly step closer to the man.
He hums, "It has been, hasn't it? The first time in the church as well.”
“Well, you know...” You gesture back to your parents.
"I'm assuming this wasn't on your schedule.” He looks you up and down, “Given your attire.”
You gasp sharply, heat rising to your face as you pathetically try to pull your skirt down. "I-uh,” you try to think of an excuse, "I didn't pack any pants..." You lie-- lying in a church is one thing but to the priest?
If Charlie sensed your lie he didn't comment on it. "Well, I hope you enjoyed today's sermon.”
"I did!" You lie again, a little too enthusiastically.
Charlie narrows his eyes at you, "You weren't paying attention, were you?" His voice is playful.
"No, I was not," You quickly confess.
He laughs, you have to fight to not stare shamefully at his beautiful face for too long. "That's odd— because when I looked at you, you looked very focused," He teases.
“I wasn't paying attention to your voice. Just your fa-" you stop in your tracks. Utterly petrified at the situation you have just found yourself in. His eyebrows raise in surprise at your slip-up. “I mean I didn't even know that you could see me in that crowd-- I-I- just figured that-”
“That every time we locked eyes it wasn't on purpose?” he finishes your thought.
You nod pathetically, your shoes suddenly extremely interesting.
Charlie takes a step towards you, the proximity making you look up at the man. Has he always been that tall? "I want you to go into my office and wait for me.” His voice is a seductive tone you have never heard him use before. It sends a shiver down your spine.
“But what about my parents?” you ask, voice just above a whisper.
“Dont worry about them,” he assures before walking away. Leaving you standing alone— stunned.
To say you were terrified was an understatement. Sure, you weren't in any danger-- at least you didn't think so. What exactly had you gotten yourself into? Here you sat, in a priest's office. Surrounded by biblical Imagery. And you were 99% Sure you were soaked through your cotton panties, you didn't care. No one but you was going to know... right?
Five minutes turned to ten. You sat anxiously in the chair across from Charlie's desk. A clock on the wall ticked away obnoxiously. You had figured when you walked in it would take him a while for him to return. how long should you wait? Has he forgotten that you were sitting in his office, impatiently waiting? You didn't dare to snoop, or even scroll on your phone. Charlie said to wait for him, and that's what you would do.
For thirty minutes you're alone in that office. you straighten your posture when you hear the clicks of Charlie’s boots nearing. The sound of the door opening makes you flinch pathetically. You don't dare turn around. Eyes glued on the desk in front of you.
Charlie is silent as he moves around behind you. Your pulse pounds in your throat at the anticipation.
“You seem nervous.” You tense at his voice, still refusing to turn around and face the man.
You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “I am nervous, Father.” You press your thighs together in an atempt to find some sort of relief to your throbbing center.
He groans quietly from behind you, “look at me.”
Like a magnet your head whips around to look at the man. His sharp gaze made your breath hitch. You felt hazy as he stepped towards you. Your eyes locked on his as he comes to stand right in front of you. Your breath quickens when he captures your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger.
Charlies predatory gaze on you deepens, his lips curling into a smirk, "you--" he rubs the lipstick on your mouth, smudging it. "Are such a pretty mess for me, darling.”
You bat your eyelashes up at him, “I don't know what you mean, Father.”
He grips the sides of your face harshly, cheeks smushing together into a pout. “Showing up to my church dressed like a slut—” he spits, “shamlessly eyefucking me the whole time like you were the only one in the room.”
You whimper at his words— he was right of course. But that didn't stop your face from flushing in embarrassment.
“Now look at you. Slut. Sitting before me like a doe as if you didn’t wait in my office hoping I would come in here and fuck you like the whore that you are.”
You moan shamelessly when he lets go of your face, while your whole body was screaming at you to submit to the man before you. You could help but push his buttons just a little bit further.
“You know for a priest you sure do have a filthy mouth—” His eyes narrow on you as you speak. “im such a slut but here you are hard in your pants over a damn mini skirt.” If looks could kill, you’d surely be dead. You needed more.
You open your mouth to speak again. But before you could even get a sound out, Charlie strikes his large hand across your cheek. You moan again, “fuck!”
Wordlessly, he turns to the desk before you. You watch curiously as he haphazardly pushes the clutter on his desk onto the floor. Your hands tremble in anticipation as you watch him bound towards you. He effortlessly picks you up from the chair you sat on, as if a reflex you cross you’d ankles behind his back as his hands greedily grip your thighs and ass.
He gently places you on the recently cleared off desk. A stark contrast to the way he effortlessly hoisted you from your seat. You attempt to grind down in the wooden desk under you for some kind of stimulation, but Charlie’s grip stops you.
“So impatient,” he purrs. He captures your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. You whine at the loss of him, but you don’t have to worry for long as his hands greedily grasps at your skirt, tearing at your legs. He leaves you with one last opened mouth kiss as he begins to trail wet kisses down your neck.
He mumbles something you can’t quite hear. But you don’t really care when he sinks to his knees, his strong hands prying your legs open. He trails more kisses to your inner thigh all the way up to your core. He licks a stripe over your soaked through panties, your legs try to close but his hands are holding your thighs open. His eyes lock on yours as he pulls them down your legs, the speed agonizing as you whimper. In a second his lips are back on you, his wet kisses up your thighs driving you mad.
“Charlie,” You thread your hand through his hair as he bites and licks at your heat like a starved man.
He mumbles a quick “no,” as he pulls away from you. His chin slicked and shiny from you. The scene is pornographic, if you had a camera you’d take a picture. He fumbles with his belt buckle and throws it to the side, the metal clanking to the floor loudly. You shamelessly stare as he stands back up, towering over you again he gets close enough that you feel his breath on your face.
“Look at you,” he tuts. You lurch forward— pulling him into a greedy, filthy kiss. When he moans into your mouth it’s the most heavenly sound you’ve ever heard. Pushing you back into the desk, once again he’s muttering something, a prayer. You paw at his zipper and he lazily watches you has you pull out his angry cock.
“Please?” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer sexual frustration.
“Since you asked so nicely~” he steals a quick kiss before dragging his leaking tip through your folds.
He pushes into you fully in one smooth motion. Your back arches up off of the desk, wood painfully digging into your spine. You didn’t care— all you cared about was him.
Fast sharp deep thrusts have you screaming as the sounds of skin ring throughout the office. You curse- throwing your arms over your head. Charlie’s mouth gaping while he groans, pressing and thrusting himself into you.
"Just, like that, oh.. god." You wail as he slams himself into your g spot repeatedly.
Charlie greedily paws at your clothed breasts as his hips slap into yours. You clench around him— you can already feel your orgasm building from the rough pace set. Charlie’s hips stutter from your action and you clench again. A low groan leaves his beautifully shaped lips as he digs his fingers into your hips.
You moan— you try to form words but Charlie feels so good inside of you that your brain feels like mush. He seems to be able to tell your close however by the way his thumb reaches down to rub sloppy circles onto your clit.
Your vision turns white as you come undone. Your nails dig into the desk below you as Charlie chases his own release. He leans down, pressing kisses into your cheeks and necks, unlike the kisses before; these are gentle and caring. You hiss when he pulls out of you, missing the feeling of him inside you immediately.
“How much convincing will it take for you to come to next weeks service?” He breathily laughs against the side of your face.
“If it’s gonna end like this again— none at all.”
♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎
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Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)
@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings
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romugh · 1 month ago
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BUTTONED UP, LET LOOSE- NR
ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER
october 16th — car sex, innocence
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DAY TEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.
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pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x g!p!reader
cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, loss of virginity, slight corruption?, fingering (n rcv), handie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex (again??? kinda?? cheers!), library sex?, car sex, breeding!!, creampie (not specified tho, but i'm a slut so imagine it.)
wc- 10.456k of filthy goodness. goodnight LMAO!
a/n- wrote this with my little anon's thought in mind, say "thank you"!! anyways, the end was quite rushed in editing as i've been bedridden with stomach flu BUT hey! no cute glasses mention in this is a crime though, i apologise </3
synopsis- innocent natty. library. car. SEX.
taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)
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The library's usual hush enveloped you both as Natasha sat across the table, a determined expression on her face while she explained the astrophysics equations you were supposed to be studying. Her voice was steady, the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing the material inside and out. It was in moments like these, with her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her attention fixed on the formulas, that Natasha was at her most self-assured. She had always been this way—composed, focused, and resolutely serious about her academics.
But as she went on about gravitational waves and complex integrals, your thoughts were miles away from the numbers she was scribbling down. You had been at this game for months, pushing her boundaries little by little, enjoying every flustered reaction and breathy response she gave you. The way her cheeks flushed pink whenever you leaned in a little too close or said something teasing had kept you entertained more than the equations ever could.
Today, though, you could feel a restlessness in you, an urge to take things further. Natasha had a crush on you—she didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. It was in the way her eyes lingered on you when she thought you weren’t looking and the extra effort she put into her explanations, as if she was hoping to impress you. Her timid glances and nervous smiles betrayed her feelings, even if she tried to act like they didn’t exist.
You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs out under the table until your foot gently brushed against hers. Her head snapped up at the contact, her wide green eyes meeting yours. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze back to the textbook, her voice faltering for a moment as she continued explaining. “A-and so, the gravitational constant… it’s, um, important for—”
“Careful, princess,” you interrupted, letting your voice drop to a low, teasing murmur. “You’re sounding a bit distracted there. You sure you’re not the one who needs help focusing?”
Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to steady herself. “I’m not,” she said softly, though there was a tremor in her voice. She turned the page in her notebook, pointing to another equation. “You… you just need to pay attention more. This part is essential for understanding the exam material.”
“Right,” you drawled, letting your gaze drift down to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But it seems like you’re the one who’s a little off track. You’ve been going over that same equation for the past five minutes.”
She blinked, glancing down at the textbook as if she hadn’t realised. Her cheeks reddened further, and she quickly flipped to the next problem. “I’m just making sure you understand,” she said defensively. “These equations are really complicated, and I know you’ve been struggling.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe I’d understand better if you helped me in a different way,” you suggested, your tone deceptively casual as your fingers brushed the edge of the textbook, inching closer to her hand. “You know, something more... hands-on.”
Natasha looked up, her brows knitting together in confusion. She tilted her head slightly, her innocence showing as she tried to piece together what you were suggesting. “Hands-on?” she echoed, her voice soft and uncertain. “You mean like... working through more practice problems? Or... showing you the step-by-step process again?”
Your smirk widened. She was just so naïve, so wrapped up in her own world of equations and theories that it hadn’t even crossed her mind that you could be implying something else. You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “I was thinking of a different kind of help, princess. Something a bit more... intimate.”
The pink flush on Natasha’s cheeks deepened, her eyes widening as she tried to process your words. “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she stammered, looking down at the book in front of her as if it could somehow provide an answer. “We’re… we’re supposed to be studying this, not... I mean, what else would we even be doing?”
You chuckled, a low, quiet sound that made her glance up at you nervously. “Oh, come on, Natasha. You’re a smart girl—you can figure it out,” you teased, letting your fingers graze her hand ever so slightly before pulling back. “Unless you really are that innocent.”
Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip as if debating whether to press further. “I just… I think we should focus on the equations,” she insisted, her voice shaky. “The exam is only a few weeks away, and you said you needed lots of help understanding this chapter.”
You could see it—the way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, the way her shoulders tensed as she tried to keep her composure. There was a part of her that understood what you were implying, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. The dark desire was there, buried beneath layers of shyness and self-restraint, and you wanted to pull it to the surface, to make her confront it.
Natasha's innocence was almost palpable. She was the kind of girl who had never even dared to watch porn, the idea itself making her blush furiously. The few times she had tried to touch herself had ended in shame, her own inexperience and embarrassment overwhelming her before she could explore anything further. It was like she’d always stopped herself just short of pleasure, afraid to give in completely, and you could sense that hesitation now, see it in the way her breath hitched as your words hung in the air.
But there was also a spark of something else—a curiosity she couldn’t suppress, a craving she didn’t fully understand. And you were determined to feed that curiosity, to coax her deeper into this uncharted territory.
“Sure,” you said lightly, leaning back in your chair. “If that’s what you want.” You let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “But you know, there’s more to life than just studying equations. Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there, princess? Don’t you want to experience something... different?”
Natasha looked at you, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she was torn between following her instincts and sticking to the safety of the academic path she knew so well. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, her blush deepening as she glanced away. “I just… we’re supposed to be here to study. That’s what we agreed on.”
Your gaze lingered on her, the playful smirk on your lips fading into something darker, more predatory. “Studying doesn’t have to be the only thing we do, though,” you said softly. “Sometimes, the best lessons aren’t found in textbooks.”
Natasha’s breathing quickened, her fingers curling into tight fists on the table as she struggled to maintain her composure. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—an unspoken conflict between the shame that told her to stay focused and the desire that tempted her to give in, to let herself be led astray just this once. She was so naïve, so innocent in her understanding of the world, and you could see how much that innocence was starting to weigh on her.
You reached across the table, this time letting your hand rest over Natasha’s on the textbook. The contact made her stiffen, her breath catching as she glanced up at you, wide-eyed and uncertain. "You know," you began, your voice dropping to a husky murmur, "I can tell you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, princess. But these notes don’t seem like one of them right now."
Natasha tried to pull her hand back, but you tightened your grip just enough to keep her in place, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. Her gaze flicked down to where your hand touched hers, then back up to meet your eyes, as if she was trying to gauge your intentions. She swallowed hard, the movement almost imperceptible, but you noticed how her breath seemed to catch ever so slightly.
"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said shakily, her voice betraying her nerves. "I’m here to help you study. That’s… that’s all."
But even as she said it, there was a part of her that didn’t quite want to pull away. The warmth of your touch sent a tingle up her arm, a sensation she wasn’t used to—something that made her want to inch closer instead of retreating. She liked the contact, craved it even, but didn’t know how to reconcile that need with the proper, composed person she was trying to be. The more she tried to focus on the study materials in front of her, the more aware she became of the way your thumb kept tracing gentle circles against her skin, soothing and igniting her all at once.
It was confusing and exhilarating, and the conflict showed in the way she bit her lip, as if trying to stop herself from admitting just how much she wanted this—even if she didn’t entirely understand what this was. Her fingers trembled slightly beneath yours, a subtle surrender hidden behind her protests, a silent plea for more contact that contradicted the words that left her lips.
"Is it?" You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a smirk. "Because it seems like you’re trying awfully hard to avoid looking at me. And I can’t help but wonder… what are you so afraid of, Natty?"
She swallowed, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the nickname. "I’m not afraid," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just… we should get back to the equations. There’s still a lot to cover."
You could hear the desperation in her voice, the way she clung to the pretence of tutoring like it was a shield against the confusion swirling in her mind. It was adorable, really, how hard she was trying to keep things professional when her reactions betrayed her so easily. You let go of her hand, leaning back in your chair and watching as she quickly pulled away, her fingers trembling slightly as she picked up the pen.
"Alright, then," you said with a shrug, though there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Let’s get back to it. Show me that equation again."
Natasha nodded quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and flipped back to the previous page in her notebook. Her voice was steadier now, though still a little breathless as she resumed explaining the formula. "So, um, as I was saying… the gravitational constant is—"
Before she could finish, you made your way around the table and sat down next ot her, this time placing your hand on her thigh. Her words died in her throat, and she froze, her pen clattering onto the notebook. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, her eyes wide with shock and something else—a flicker of excitement, perhaps?
"You were saying?" you prompted, your fingers tracing slow circles on the inside of her thigh, just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric felt warm against your skin, and you could feel the slight tremor in her leg as she struggled to compose herself. "Come on, Natasha. Don't stop now. I was really starting to understand the gravitational constant."
Her breath hitched, and she glanced around nervously, as if checking to see if anyone could see the two of you tucked away in the corner of the library. The quiet space was deserted, and the only sounds were the faint rustle of paper and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Still, the sense of vulnerability lingered in the air, amplifying the heat rising in Natasha’s cheeks. "You… you’re close…" she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This isn’t… we’re supposed to be…"
"Studying? Yeah, I know," you said casually, your hand sliding a little higher on her thigh. "But you know, sometimes you need to take a break. Clear your head, focus on something else for a while. It might even help you concentrate better." You leaned closer, your lips just inches from her ear as you added, "Besides, I think you could use a little distraction."
Natasha’s breathing quickened, and she bit her bottom lip, glancing down at where your hand rested so dangerously close to her. Her mind was spinning, torn between the urge to push you away and the shameful curiosity that kept her rooted in place. "But… someone might see," she whispered, her voice shaky. "We… we shouldn’t…"
"No one’s going to see us, princess," you murmured, your tone soothing yet insistent as you let your fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "It’s just you and me." You paused, letting your hand hover just below the edge of her panties. "Unless, of course, you want me to stop."
Her gaze darted up to meet yours, her expression a mix of panic and something darker, more primal. There was a hunger in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide, a longing that had been building up for weeks, fueled by every teasing remark and lingering touch. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but she was curious, desperate even, to know what it would feel like to let herself be led astray. Her hand trembled as she placed it over yours, but instead of pulling you away, she hesitated, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.
"That's what I thought," you breathed, a dark satisfaction settling in your chest as you slipped your hand higher, your fingers gently pressing against the thin fabric of her underwear. Natasha gasped, her grip tightening around your wrist as if to stop you, but she didn’t push you away. Her cheeks burned with shame, but there was a small part of her that was curious, that wanted to know what it would be like to let go, to surrender like this for once.
You didn’t give her time to think about it. Your other hand reached up to cup her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look at you. "You’re so tense, princess," you whispered, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Relax a little, will you? Just let yourself feel it."
Then, with deliberate slowness, you slipped your fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her wet and warm. Natasha’s breath hitched sharply, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open again, as if she was afraid of what might happen if she gave in completely. She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, her knuckles turning white as she fought to maintain her composure.
"W-oh, we should get back to the equations," she managed to say, though her voice was breathless and strained. "This… I don’t know what I’m doing…"
You could hear the conflict in her voice, the way she tried to cling to her sense of propriety even as her body responded to your touch. "Oh, come on, Natasha," you murmured, your fingers sliding against her slick folds, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. "You don’t really want me to stop, do you? I can feel how wet you are. You’re curious, aren’t you?"
She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and longing. "No, I… I’m not… I don’t think like that…"
"Shh," you whispered, your hand moving to cover her mouth as you pressed a finger inside her, slowly, letting her feel every inch. "Just let yourself enjoy it, princess. No one has to know."
Natasha’s muffled whimper sent a thrill through you, and you continued to work your finger deeper, savouring the way her walls clenched around you, how her breath quickened beneath your hand. Her eyes squeezed shut, and you could see the struggle on her face, the war between shame and desire, the urge to push you away and the need to cling to the sensations coursing through her.
Your finger pressed deeper, coaxing a breathy gasp from Natasha that she couldn’t stifle beneath your hand. Her eyes darted around the library, half-lidded and unfocused, as if desperately searching for a way out—or perhaps hoping no one would stumble upon the two of you tucked away in the shadows. The thought of being caught seemed to send a jolt through her, a reminder of how wrong this was. But her hips moved into your touch, a subtle, instinctive motion that spoke louder than any words. She wanted this—wanted you—even if she didn’t quite know how to ask for it. Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing as she met your gaze, letting the unspoken desire hang between you.
"That’s it, princess," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with dark amusement. "You’re starting to relax now. Doesn’t that feel better?" You added another finger, her tightness evident as you worked them in carefully, each movement deliberate, savouring the way her body tensed and then yielded. Her breath hitched again, a soft, desperate sound that made your pulse quicken. You could feel her trembling against you, every bit the inexperienced girl, struggling to reconcile the sensations overwhelming her.
Natasha’s hand gripped the table tighter, her nails digging into the wood as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her thighs quivered, parted even more for you to reach between them, but she didn’t dare look at you—didn’t dare acknowledge the shameful truth that she was letting this happen. "I-I don’t… I don’t know…" she stammered, her voice muffled by the pressure of your hand still covering her mouth. "We… we can’t…"
Your smirk widened, a dark, knowing gleam in your eyes as you leaned closer, your breath hot against her flushed cheek. "Can’t?" you echoed, your tone dripping with mockery. "Or you don’t want to admit how much you like it?" You crooked your fingers inside her, brushing against a sensitive spot that made her cry out—though the sound was lost beneath your palm. Her hips bucked, her legs squeezing together instinctively, but it only served to trap your hand there, her body clinging to you in a way that was far more honest than her words.
A wicked thrill shot through you as you watched her crumble, every twitch and tremor betraying how little control she had left. You could feel her slickness increasing, coating your fingers as you moved faster, your thumb brushing lightly against her clit just to see the way she would react. Her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as a whimper escaped her lips—a sound so full of desperate need that it sent a shiver of satisfaction down your spine. She was already unravelling, and you hadn’t even properly started.
"I think you’ve got something mixed up, princess," you murmured, letting your lips graze her ear as you spoke. "You keep saying ‘we can’t,’ but I’m pretty sure you’re telling me otherwise."
Natasha shook her head, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to stay composed. "Yes… please…" she breathed, her voice shaking with confusion and desire. "I-I don’t know what… I’ve never…"
"Shh, I know, I know," you whispered soothingly, though there was no real comfort in your tone. "You’re so innocent, aren’t you? Never felt anything like this before." You pulled your hand away from her mouth, letting her catch her breath as you kissed the spot just below her ear, soft and lingering. "But that’s okay, princess. I’ll teach you. All you have to do is trust me."
She looked at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and arousal, and her breath came out in ragged gasps. "W-we shouldn’t… I’m—You’re… I’m supposed to be helping you with your coursework…"
"And you are," you replied smoothly, letting your fingers drag slowly out of her before thrusting them back in, earning a sharp gasp. "You’re helping me a lot, actually. Think of this as extra credit, princess."
Natasha whimpered, her body responding despite her mind’s weak attempts to resist. You could feel the way she squeezed around your fingers, could see the glazed look in her eyes as her walls fluttered helplessly. Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally pleaded, "Please… not here…"
Your smirk widened as you relished the sound of her desperation, and you withdrew your hand completely, leaving her panting and needy. "Alright, then," you said, voice low and dangerous. "We’ll save the rest for later." You stepped back, adjusting your stance as you took in the sight of her—Natasha, the model student, the academic prodigy, now reduced to a trembling mess in the library’s dark corner.
You licked your fingers clean, savouring the taste of her arousal on your tongue, before leaning down to whisper, "Come on, princess. Let's get you home."
You led Natasha toward your motorcycle, but instead of grabbing your helmet, you tossed the keys into the air and caught them with a mischievous grin. "You’re coming with me," you said, nodding toward her car parked nearby. Natasha blinked in surprise, her confusion momentarily cutting through the lingering haze of arousal.
It took her a moment to register the fact that you weren't heading for your bike at all. Her eyes darted to your hand—clutching her car keys. When had you...? She remembered then, how you had been ‘adjusting’ her skirt just a minute earlier, your hands lingering at her waist. You’d slipped the keys from her pocket without her even noticing.
"You’re leaving your bike?" she asked, glancing back at your motorcycle as if it were the only thing grounding her in reality right now.
"Just for tonight." You walked to her car and opened the passenger door, gesturing for her to get in. "Go ahead, princess. I'll drive."
She hesitated for a moment, but the vulnerable look in her eyes betrayed her longing for you to take control, to lead her down this path she’d never dared tread before. She climbed in slowly, her fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as if her mind were still struggling to catch up. You slid into the driver’s seat, your hand settling on her thigh almost instinctively as you started the engine.
The ride was quiet, the tension thick in the enclosed space, your touch resting warmly on her leg. She squirmed beneath your palm, her gaze flicking to you every few seconds as if waiting for you to do something, anything to break the silence. But you kept your focus on the road, pretending not to notice the way her breath quickened whenever your fingers flexed.
"Adress, princess?" you asked casually as you reached a stoplight, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light.
She gave you the directions, her voice trembling slightly, and you hummed in acknowledgment, continuing the drive. But when you reached her street, you didn’t stop in front of her house. Instead, you pulled into a dark side street a few houses down, parking the car under the shadow of some trees.
"W-why did you stop here?" Natasha asked, her voice small and unsure as she looked around the familiar but spooky area.
You turned off the engine and leaned back in your seat, your hand still resting on her thigh. "I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’," you said, your tone teasing, though there was a dark edge beneath it.
She flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. "T-thank you," she mumbled, her voice filled with embarrassed confusion.
"Oh, that’s it?" you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "First you forget, and then you don’t even mean it? Not only did I drive you home, but I also made you feel good. I think I deserve a real ‘thank you’, princess."
The tension in the air thickened as Natasha looked at you, her expression caught between shame and a reluctant understanding of what you were implying.
Natasha's breath came out in shallow pants, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed in her seat, her fingers tightening on the edge of the cushion as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Her wide eyes met yours, glistening with uncertainty. “W-what do you mean?” she asked, her voice a hesitant whisper, though a hint of something more—something darker—flickered in her gaze.
You chuckled softly, a low and dangerous sound that made her shiver. “Come on, princess. You’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your hand slid up her thigh, fingers inching toward the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered there, applying just enough pressure to make your intention clear. “Why don’t you start by thanking me properly?” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “And then we’ll see where that gets us.”
Natasha bit her lip, her eyes darting to the darkened street outside. The shadows seemed to close in, emphasising just how isolated you both were. There was no one here to witness this, no one to interrupt. Her pulse raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and something else—something she didn’t want to admit to herself. She looked back at you, her gaze faltering. “I… I don’t know how to…,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never… done anything like this before.”
Your smirk widened, your fingers trailing up to tease the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Again, princess, I know,” you said, the dark satisfaction in your tone unmistakable. “That’s why I’m going to show you. Just do exactly as I say, and I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it, as will I.” You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her cheek as you whispered, “Now, say thank you like you mean it.”
Natasha swallowed hard, her whole body trembling with nervous energy. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice breathless and uncertain. You arched an eyebrow, your fingers slipping higher, grazing the edge of her underwear. “That’s better,” you said, your touch growing firmer. “But I’m still not convinced.”
Her heart hammered in her chest as you moved your hand back to her skirt, lifting it just enough to expose the pale skin beneath. She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but you caught her wrists, pinning them down gently but firmly. “Ah ah, none of that,” you murmured, your gaze locked on hers. “Keep your hands to your sides, princess. I want you to be good for me.”
Natasha's chest heaved with each ragged breath, her body betraying the deep shame and twisted desire pooling in her belly. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought against the overwhelming urge to obey you, to give in to whatever you demanded of her. It felt wrong—so terribly wrong—but the heat flooding her veins made it hard to care. 
She wanted to be good. She wanted you to approve of her.
Your grip tightened on her wrists, and you gave a little nod toward your lap, the unspoken command clear in your eyes. “You know what to do,” you said, a hint of a challenge lacing your voice. “Don’t make me wait.”
Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second before she reached for the button of your jeans, her trembling hands struggling with the metal clasp. Her skin burned with embarrassment, but beneath it was something else—a sense of reckless freedom that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. The sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the small space of the car, and when she finally freed you, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Big You straining against the fabric.
Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, as if seeking approval—or perhaps reassurance that this was really happening, that you were pulling her into this dark, exhilarating world she’d only ever glimpsed in her fantasies. But there was no familiar softness in your gaze, only a sharp, predatory gleam that sent a jolt through her. “Go on, then,” you encouraged, your tone growing lower, more commanding. “Show me how grateful you really are, princess.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the waistband of your boxers, hesitating for a moment before tugging them down just enough to free you from the fabric. She drew in a shaky breath as you sprang free, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The size, the heat, the sheer reality of it left her stunned, and she swallowed hard, unsure of where to begin.
Tentatively, Natasha wrapped her hand around you, her touch feather-light at first, as if afraid to grip too tightly. The unfamiliar weight and warmth against her palm made her pulse throb in her ears, and you couldn’t help but grin at the way her grip faltered. It was clear she was utterly lost and overwhelmed, unsure of herself in this intimate moment.
With a small, teasing thrust, you pushed into her hand, guiding her rhythm. The sudden movement made her flinch, her fingers squeezing reflexively around you. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was something else too—something deeper and more eager beneath her shyness.
“Good girl,” you murmured, leaning back against the seat as you watched her. “Just like that.”
Natasha’s hand moved awkwardly along your length, her inexperience showing in the hesitant, uneven strokes. The look in her eyes was a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. You watched her for a moment, savouring the sight of the usually composed and reserved tutor and classmate unravelling under your touch. Her breath hitched each time your hips rolled against her fingers, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorably naïve she was.
You reached out, catching her chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so that she was forced to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that, princess,” you murmured, your voice laced with dark amusement. “Put some real effort into it. Show me that you’re grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”
Her lips parted as though to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she gave a small nod, her movements becoming a little more purposeful, though there was still a clumsy innocence to the way she touched you. It was endearing, really, to see someone so smart reduced to a flustered, trembling mess in your hands. Her fingers tightened around you, a little more pressure now, and you rewarded her with a low groan of approval.
“That’s better,” you said, your thumb grazing over her lower lip as her breath stuttered. “But I still think you owe me a real thank you.”
Before she could question what you meant, you grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer. With a swift, effortless motion, you pulled her over your lap, her skirt riding up to expose the pale curve of her thighs. Natasha gasped, her body stiffening with shock as she found herself sprawled over you, her cheek pressed against the back of the cool leather seat. “W-what are you—?” she stammered, but her question died in her throat when your hand slid under her skirt, cupping her through her dampening underwear.
“Quiet,” you ordered, your tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “We’re not done yet, princess. I want you to thank me properly… and I think you need a little example of how to do that.”
Her breath quickened, and she let out a small, muffled whimper as your hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties again, stroking her gently. “I… I don’t…” she began, her voice a shaky whisper.
You smirked, lifting your hand away from her just as she started to press back against your touch, her body instinctively seeking more. “Count for me, Natasha,” you said, your palm hovering over the curve of her rear. “And don’t forget to thank me after every one.”
The first spank landed with a sharp, resounding smack that echoed in the enclosed space. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into the seat as she instinctively tried to push herself up. “One… t-thank you,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. The sting was sharp and hot, blossoming across her skin, but there was a curious thrill that came with the pain—a strange mix of shame and excitement that made her head spin.
“Good girl,” you praised, your hand rubbing over the spot where you’d struck, soothing the burn before delivering another firm spank. “Two,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Th-thank you…”
You grinned at the way her body jerked with each spank, at the breathless little sounds that escaped her lips despite her best efforts to stay composed. Her skin grew pinker with each strike, the marks of your hand painting her pale flesh. By the eleventh spank, she was trembling, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Eleven… thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
You turned your head slightly, your breath hot against her ear as you murmured, “You’re doing so well for me, princess. But I think you can be even more grateful.” Your fingers slipped between her legs again, teasing the dampness that had soaked through her panties. “Maybe this will help you find the right words.”
Natasha’s entire body tensed at the intimate touch, her thighs clenching together in a futile attempt to close herself off. But you were relentless, your fingers slipping past the thin barrier of her underwear to stroke the slick heat between her legs once more. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. “P-please…” she whimpered, though she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for.
“Please what?” you taunted, your voice a low purr. “Do you want me to stop?” You knew the answer before she even said it, but you loved the way her hesitation made her feel even more vulnerable. The way she struggled with her own desires, torn between her shame and the undeniable pleasure coursing through her.
“I… n-no…” she finally admitted, her voice so small it was almost a whisper.
“That’s what I thought,” you said, slipping a finger inside her, savouring the way her walls clenched around you. “Now, keep counting, princess. I want to hear every single thank you.”
Natasha’s voice trembled with each counted number, her thank yous becoming softer and more breathless as you continued to spank her, your hand firm and unrelenting. Her skin was hot and flushed beneath your touch, a vivid reminder of her growing submission. With each strike, her body seemed to sink deeper into the haze of sensation, and a part of her—small, hidden—found herself longing for it. The way you touched her, the way you controlled her pleasure, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. It both thrilled and terrified her.
“Ah–Seventeen… th-thank you,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. There was an unmistakable note of desperation in her tone now, a vulnerability that made your pulse quicken. Her knees trembled, and she shifted on your lap, unable to find any position that didn’t make her feel even more exposed. When the seventh spank landed, she let out a choked little cry, her fingers curling into the seat. “Eigh–Eighteen, God, thank you…”
You leaned closer, your breath brushing over her neck as you whispered, “That’s my good girl… So obedient. I think you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Natty?” You punctuated your question with a slow curl of your finger, pressing deeper inside her. Natasha’s breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as though she couldn’t bear to admit the truth.
“N-no… I…” she tried to protest, but her hips involuntarily rolled against your hand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and a tingle coursed through her spine, confusing and thrilling her all at once. Her body responded to your touch in ways she didn’t understand, her pulse quickening at the tone of your voice.
You could feel the shift in her, see the way her resolve was weakening. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” you murmured with amusement. “Your body’s telling me what you really want.” You added another finger, stretching her tighter, and she gasped, the sound barely muffled by her bitten lip. “You can ask for more if you want, you know.”
For a heartbeat, she hesitated, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as you moved your fingers inside her. But then, to her own surprise as much as yours, Natasha’s voice broke the silence—small and trembling, but there. “M-more… please…” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, a glimmer of need reflecting back at you. The moment the words left her lips, she felt her heart skip in her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
A shiver ran through you at her plea, the sound of her voice, so hesitant and desperate, fueling a dark satisfaction within you. “Oh, my Natty baby,” you praised softly, letting your fingers curl and press into her sweet spot, earning another soft cry. Her nails dug into your shoulders, and her breath shuddered as she rocked herself against your hand, her movements tentative but growing bolder with each second.
“I… I didn’t know…” Natasha murmured, her words barely audible as tears began to spill down her cheeks. The emotions overwhelmed her—shame, desire, the thrill of doing something so forbidden. She had never known it could feel like this, like fire and ice, pain and pleasure all at once. Her body trembled, torn between surrender and disbelief. Yet she found herself craving more, surprising herself with how much she wanted to feel you deeper, to push her limits.
“You didn’t know what, princess?” you whispered, your voice filled with dark amusement as you stroked her cheek, brushing away the tears. “You didn’t know you’d like being touched this way? Or that you’d be begging for more?”
She shook her head, another tear slipping free. “I… I didn’t know it could feel so…” Her words trailed off as a sob escaped her throat, her body arching closer to you, seeking the source of her own undoing. “So good… I—please, I need more…”
Your eyes darkened at her confession, at the way she was finally giving in completely to the desire coursing through her. You tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze as you spoke, your voice laced with satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, princess. Don’t hold back… let yourself feel it. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
She whimpered, nodding as her breath quickened. Her inexperience was obvious in the way her body hesitated, her movements uncertain. But you guided her, coaxing her to sink further into the feeling, the shame and tears only serving to intensify the pleasure. You shifted, positioning her so that she could feel your hard length pressing against her entrance through the thin barrier of her soaked panties, a low groan escaping her lips at the sensation as your fingers steadily kept pumping into her.
Her face flushed darker, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation as she realised you were really planning on giving her exactly what she needs. “But… but…” she stammered, the words stumbling from her tongue. She wasn’t sure what she was even trying to say. The thought of you touching her like this, pushing her to the edge—it made her feel so dirty. But she didn’t want you to stop. “Please…” The word fell from her lips again, almost involuntarily, her body betraying her.
“There’s my good girl,” you murmured, stroking her cheek. “Just keep asking nicely, and I’ll make you feel even better.” You moved your fingers in a rhythm, coaxing small, breathless moans from her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she rocked against you with a quiet desperation, her tears glistening on her flushed cheeks.
Natasha’s innocence, her struggle to reconcile the shame and pleasure, made every little gasp, every plea for more, that much sweeter. She had never felt anything so raw, so consuming, and despite the tears, despite the unfamiliar—but very much welcomed—sensations coursing through her, she found herself wanting to drown in it.
Natasha’s body was trembling, every nerve alight with a mix of lingering embarrassment and overwhelming need. Her tears had stopped flowing, but her eyes remained glassy with a desperate kind of longing. She was moving on instinct now, her hips grinding against your fingers as they pressed deeper inside her. Her skin was hot to the touch, flushed from both the heat of the car and the intensity of what she was feeling.
You could see it in her eyes—the shift from uncertainty to a raw, unrestrained desire. It was as though a switch had flipped inside her, and whatever hesitation had held her back was now crumbling away. “Please… I don’t… I need it…” Natasha’s voice was breathy, the words barely coherent as she clung to you, her nails digging into your shoulders. The way she asked for more, with such a mix of innocence and desperation, sent a thrill down your spine.
You tightened your hold on her, feeling a surge of possessiveness rise within you. She was yours now, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. The way she looked at you—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft gasp—only made the feeling stronger. “You need me, do you?” you murmured, your tone low and possessive as you moved your fingers in deeper, harder, feeling her tighten around you. “Good girl… that’s what I like to hear.”
Natasha let out a choked little moan, her body responding to your touch and words without hesitation. Her legs trembled, her thighs quivering against the leather seat as she tried to move closer, needing to feel every inch of you against her. “I… I don’t know why… I want you to keep touching me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she buried her face in your neck. She couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eyes now, couldn’t bear the intensity of what she was feeling. “Please… don’t stop…”
You chuckled softly, a dark satisfaction curling in your chest as you leaned in, pressing your lips against her damp hairline. “Don’t worry, princess,” you murmured. “I’m not going to stop. You’re mine now.” Your words were possessive, almost a growl, as you let your free hand cup her cheek, guiding her gaze back up to meet yours. The way she looked at you—so needy, so desperate—made something inside you tighten. “And I’m going to take care of you. You want that, don’t you?”
She nodded quickly, her breath coming out in shallow pants as your fingers continued to work her. “Yes… yes, please,” she whimpered, her voice hitching with every curl of your fingers inside her. There was no room left for shame, only the all-consuming need to feel more, to have you claim every part of her.
The way she responded to you now, without reservation, made your primal instincts flare. You wanted to shield her from everything, but you also wanted to keep her trembling beneath your touch, completely dependent on the pleasure you were giving her. “That’s my girl,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her jaw, just above the pulse that raced beneath her skin. “Look at you… so beautiful when you’re needy. So perfect.”
Natasha’s breath hitched at your praise, and a soft whine escaped her lips. She could hardly think straight anymore.
(not that she was, anyway)
All she knew was the way you made her feel—alive and burning, like she was drowning in you. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt as she clung to you, her tears and fears completely forgotten, replaced by an ache so deep she couldn’t even put it into words. “I want… I want to feel you more…” Her voice broke on the last word, her cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red as she realised what she was asking for, begging for.
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, but I want it…”
You paused for a moment, your gaze darkening as you absorbed her words. It wasn’t just need; it was a yearning for more than just the physical. She wanted you, wanted the way you made her feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. “You don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, your voice softer now, but still laced with that possessive edge. “Just let me take care of you, princess. I’ll give you everything you need.”
You shifted her slightly on your lap, your fingers sliding free from her wet heat, drawing a quiet whimper of protest from her. You could see the need in her eyes, the way she bit her lip, trying to hold back from asking for more but failing miserably. “Shh,” you whispered soothingly, tracing a finger over her swollen, flushed lips. “I know you want more… Give me a second, baby.” You reached down, sliding her panties to the side as you guided her legs further apart. “You’re going to have to be my good girl again and show me how much you want it.”
Her breath shuddered out as you positioned her over your hardened length, letting her feel the thickness pressing against her soaked entrance. Her eyes widened, a mix of nervousness and desire flashing across her features as she realised just how much more there was to take. “I… it’s… it’s so big…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hesitated.
You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You can take it, princess,” you encouraged, your voice a low purr as you held her hips firmly. “I’ll help you. You’re safe with me.”
Her fingers trembled as she gripped your shoulders harder for support, her body shaking with both anticipation and need. She didn’t know if she could handle it, didn’t know if she was ready, but the look in your eyes made her feel like maybe she could. Maybe she wanted to. She began to lower herself slowly, her breath catching in her throat as the head of your cock stretched her inch by inch. It was overwhelming, much bigger than your two fingers, and her tears returned, but not out of shame or confusion this time—just the raw intensity of it all.
“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your hands steadying her as she sank down further, taking more of you inside her. The possessive part of you revelled in the way her body clenched around you, in the way she bit back the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. “That’s it, princess… let me fill you up. Take it all.”
Natasha’s breath was ragged, her forehead resting against her left hand on your shoulder as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. The stretch was unlike anything she’d imagined, an ache that made her shudder. But the way you whispered encouragements, the possessive grip on her waist, it all made her feel so… needed.
Wanted in a way she had never been before.
“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed out, surprising herself again with how much she was asking for. Her hips moved of their own accord, rolling slightly as if trying to coax more of you deeper inside her. “I… I need all of you…”
Natasha's breaths came in quick, desperate gasps as she struggled to take you completely. Her body shook, the stretch bordering on unbearable, but she physically couldn’t bring herself to stop. She needed more—needed to feel every inch of you inside her, to be filled in a way that left no room for anything else. Inch by inch, she kept sinking down, her legs trembling as her hips rolled against you in an effort to take you deeper.
You gripped her waist, steadying her as you watched her struggle, your breath hitching at the sight of her determination. “It’s okay, princess,” you murmured, voice strained as you fought to keep control. “You don’t have to—”
But she shook her head, her brows furrowed in concentration as she cut you off. “No… I need to,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word as she bit down on her lower lip. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable, the stretch making her feel impossibly full, but she was so close—so close to taking you all. “I can… I can do it. Please… don’t… don’t stop me…”
A shudder of pleasure ran through you as you watched her fight for it, your grip tightening on her hips as you guided her down a little further. “God… you’re so stubborn,” you groaned, the sensation of her clenching around you almost enough to drive you mad. “But you feel so damn good.” You could see the tears in her eyes, the way her cheeks burned as she struggled to adjust to your size, but she didn’t give up. She kept moving, kept pushing herself.
With one final, trembling motion, she sank all the way down, seating herself fully in your lap. Her breath hitched, her whole body going rigid as she felt you buried inside her, deeper than she’d ever thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp mix of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt through her entire body. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back as a soft, shuddering moan escaped her lips.
The sight of her finally taking you completely for the first time, her very first time, her body trembling and her chest heaving, was enough to make you lose control. A deep groan rumbled from your throat as you clutched her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft skin. “I’m going to show you, baby,” you slurred, your voice thick with desire as you began to move her, lifting her up only to sink her back down onto your cock. “I’m showing you… y’feel so good, princess–Fuck…”
Your words came out in a heated mess, every thrust making it harder to speak clearly. The way her body clenched around you, squeezing you with each roll of her hips, made your head spin. You could barely focus, could barely think beyond the feeling of being inside her, of her warmth surrounding you so completely. It was as if she had been made for you, every inch of her fitting so perfectly around you that it almost hurt.
That look in your eyes—wide, dark, and feral—was what pushed her over the edge. She saw the way you were falling apart because of her, how your breath hitched and your words came out in broken gasps, and it sparked something wild inside her. For the first time, she felt powerful—felt like she had you at her mercy, even if she was the one trembling. Her hands clung to your shoulders, her fingers digging in as she let you take her completely, riding you with an intensity that shocked even her.
“More…” she breathed out, her voice ragged as she clung to you. “Please… More.” There was no room left for shame or doubt; there was only the need to feel you, to be filled over and over until she couldn’t think of anything else. She tightened her legs around you, pulling you in closer as you kept moving her up and down in a steady rhythm, each thrust making her see stars.
You couldn’t hold back anymore. The sight of her—so desperate, so wild—drove you closer to the brink. Your hips bucked up against her, meeting her halfway as you quickened the pace, your hands guiding her movements with a rough, possessive grip. “God, Natasha…” you groaned, your voice barely coherent as you felt her tightening around you, her body squeezing you so tightly it actually did start to hurt. “You’re mine… mine…” The words spilled out in a heated rush, your breath fanning against her ear as you buried your face in her hair.
Natasha’s nails raked down your arms and neck, her breath hitching with every roll of her hips. The feel of your possessiveness, of the way you claimed her, sent a shiver through her entire body. She buried her face in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she let out a broken moan. “Yours… I’m yours…” The words left her before she could even think about what they meant, before she could question why it felt so good to say them.
The rhythm quickened, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, until it felt like her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get you deep enough. Her thighs trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clung to you, letting you move her in whatever way you pleased. She didn’t care anymore—didn’t care how needy or desperate she looked. All that mattered was the way you filled her, over and over, until she felt like she would break.
You could feel her losing herself, could hear it in the breathy moans and half-whimpers that spilled from her lips. It was like she had given herself over entirely to you, her body yielding in a way that made something primal inside you go feral. “My perfect girl,” you whispered, your voice rough as you praised her. “That’s it… take it all, princess. You’re perfect… perfect for me.”
Her body shuddered at your words, and a sob tore from her throat as she felt herself unravelling. She was so close—so close to the edge that it scared her, but she didn’t want it to end. She buried her face against your neck, her voice muffled against your skin as she cried out. “Please… Don’t let go—Don’t let go…” Her voice trembled with the intensity of it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she held on for dear life.
You didn’t let go. You kept moving, kept taking her, holding her against you as if she might disappear if you didn’t. The possessiveness, the need to make her feel everything, consumed you entirely. And as you felt her tighten around you time after time, her whole body going taut as she cried out in pure ecstasy, you knew you had her completely.
Natasha's cries echoed in your ears, mixing with the sound of your own breaths as you thrust harder, feeling the heat pooling in your core. The way she clung to you, the way her body quivered above you, only heightened your desire. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” you encouraged, each word a reminder of how utterly lost she was in this moment with you, how perfectly aware you were in this moment with her.
Her orgasms rolled through her like a tidal wave, crashing over every thought and leaving only pleasure in its wake. You watched, enthralled, as she writhed against you, her body contracting and pulsing around you, squeezing you tighter and tighter as her cries turned into soft whimpers. The way she surrendered to the feeling made your heart race, igniting a deep-seated need to protect her, to hold her through this storm.
“Please… please don’t stop,” she gasped, breathless and desperate. The sheer need in her voice sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting an even deeper hunger. You increased your pace, each thrust more frantic than the last as your body took over, driven by instinct rather than thought. You were focused solely on the pleasure radiating from her, on the way she fell apart around you, and how you could make her feel even better.
“Never stopping, princess,” you murmured, your voice a low growl as you leaned closer, wrapping your arms tighter around her. “M’gonna to fill you up... make you mine.” You thrust into her with a newfound urgency, chasing your own release, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to boil over.
With each thrust, you felt the tension inside you building, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You could see the look on her face—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries of pleasure. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. “You feel so good, Natty. So fucking good,” you grunted, the pleasure blurring the edges of your mind.
Natasha nodded, eyes glassy with need, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I—oh god… I can’t…” she whimpered, her hips instinctively meeting yours, driving you both deeper into this carnal dance. The world outside faded into oblivion as you lost yourselves in one another.
“M’gonna fill you, baby,” you groaned, your voice rough with desire as you neared your peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you felt everything snap, the pressure inside you bursting forth as you released into her, filling her completely. The sensation of it was almost overwhelming, the heat of your release mixing with the intoxicating warmth of her body.
Natasha’s eyes widened as she felt you release, and the combination of pleasure and sensation sent her spiralling into yet another climax. She cried out, her voice a mixture of surprise and ecstasy as her body quaked around you, milking every last drop from you as you filled her. The world faded away, and all that remained was the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, need, and an undeniable connection that had ignited between you.
You held her tightly, feeling her heartbeat beneath your hands, her breaths coming in shuddering gasps as you both rode the waves of your releases. In that moment, the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe, a place where nothing else mattered but the blissful entanglement of your bodies.
But as you gently slipped out of Natasha and the haze of pleasure began to lift, her eyes glistened with an emotion that caught you off guard. A shadow of doubt crept across her features, her expression shifting from blissful surrender to uncertainty. She looked at the fogged window, her cheeks flushing with a mix of vulnerability and confusion. “Was… was I just a quick fuck to you?” The question slipped from her lips in a whisper, a tremor of vulnerability lacing her voice. She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the weight of her words heavy between you. “I mean… I know how you are with girls, and I can’t help but feel—”
She hesitated, biting her lip as if to swallow the flood of insecurities threatening to spill out. Her gaze flickered to the side, avoiding your eyes, and you could see the fear in her expression. The last thing she wanted was to be another notch on your belt, a fleeting moment in the wake of your reputation for sleeping around and toying with girls who had dared to fall for your charm. The thought made her heart race, and she quickly added, “I thought maybe… maybe I meant more to you than that.”
Her voice wavered, each word wrapped in doubt, and the way her hands fidgeted in her lap betrayed just how deeply this fear cut. She needed reassurance, a confirmation that she was not just a passing fancy but something far more significant in your eyes. The innocence she had shown moments before was now tinged with trepidation, and it left you with an ache in your chest as you realised the impact your actions had on her, feeling your heart sink at her words.
Her eyes searched yours for reassurance, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel the weight of her uncertainty. “But… you could have anyone you want,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why would you choose me?”
“Because I want you,” you replied, sincerity pouring from your words as you continued, “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just didn’t think I was deserving of someone as pure, beautiful, and smart as you.”
A sad smile tugged at her lips, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve liked you for years, you know,” she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. “Like that time I first bumped into you and let go of that stupid telescope… I thought you were going to hate me for making you pay so much to reimburse the university.”
You let out a soft laugh, the moment turning bittersweet as the memory flooded back. “Honestly, I was frustrated at first, but I couldn’t stay mad at you. You were just… so cute.”
A small smile broke through her tears, hesitantly blooming on her lips. “I don’t want to be just… just a distraction for you.”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not even close. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. Just being with you, hanging out with you, it feels right.”
Her smile grew a little, and you could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she absorbed your words. “Really? You really mean that?”
“More than anything,” you confirmed, your heart swelling with the connection building between you. “You’re my choice, Natty. Always.”
Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Can I… can I kiss you?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.
Natasha's breath hitched slightly at your words, her wide eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. It struck her that, despite everything that had just happened between you, this kiss would mark a deeper connection—one that transcended the physical. 
That realisation settled between you, making the air feel charged and electric. You could see how much this meant to her, how special it was that your first kiss would be a shared moment of emotional intimacy and vulnerability. It wasn't just an act; it was an acknowledgment of the bond you were forming.
She nodded, a spark of hope lighting her eyes, and you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against hers with a tender hesitation. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened as you both melted into it, the warmth of your earlier intimacy blossoming into something even more profound.
As your lips moved together, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by a connection that felt unbreakable. You pulled back, searching her gaze for any lingering uncertainty. “See?” you murmured, your forehead resting against hers. “You’re so much more to me than just a quick moment. You always have been.”
Natasha smiled softly, the tears in her eyes now replaced by something brighter, something hopeful. You knew that whatever lay ahead, this moment would always be the start of something deeper, something beautifully complicated that neither of you had anticipated.
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kkuzushi · 1 month ago
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KRNDJENSIND words cannot express how happy i am when you wrote my "loving scara in the public restroom" request LIKE— AAAAAA THANK YOU SO SO MUCH
Yes i have came to you with ANOTHER REQUEST— imagine reader being so busy because of assignments and scara is over here being a top 1 student who already finished all his homeworks and gets frustrated(also concerned) with you because he thinks you're so stupid to not know/understand this equation/subject and how you're not sleeping and eating that much. And whenever he offers to help you, you refuse and he gets so frustrated that he started insulting you like crazy and now you two started fighting..... One thing led to another and scara found himself pinned on the bed while getting pounded— and and they are still insulting each other while they're at it
So they're kinda like fighting while making love..............
You can ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable... But if you do plan on taking this, THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN🫶🏻🫶🏻
Also can I be 🎐 or 💜 anon? (Incase the former has already been taken...)
“ 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽 𝗦𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆..𝗶𝗻 𝗕𝗲𝗱 ”
✦ characters: sub!scaramouche x gn!dom!reader
✦ cw: modern college scara, rival-ish, handjob (giving), slight brat taming, slight humiliation, edging, begging, dacryphilia, cock/strap penetration
✦ word count: 2.199k
✦ notes: I may or may not have gotten overboard with this one.. Apologies for the late submission, but yes, you can be my 🎐anon. <3
✦ Part 1 | Part 2
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Hell week has arrived at your university which means it's time for endless study sessions in your room like every normal student would do, unless they’re confident with their skills.
And of course, one of those students was Scaramouche—the one who effortlessly reaches the honor list. Seriously, how does he do it? Either way, that should be the least of your problems. You're over competing with him when it comes to academics.
However, the man doesn't seem to get the hint, always disturbing the peace in your shared dorm everytime he sees you going cross-eyed with the learning materials scattered at your work desk.
Scaramouche leans casually against the doorway, watching you silently for a moment as you pore over your notes. A smirk slowly spreads across his face before he speaks, the teasing arrogance evident in his voice.
“Are you stressing over there again?” He crosses his arms, walking closer and peering at your notes. “I could ace this in my sleep. You know, if you're going to work this hard, at least make sure it's worth it.”
His tone softens just slightly as his eyes flicker over your tired expression. “Just go to bed, you won't be able to surpass me no matter how you study anyway.”
You kept your eyes glued to your notes, not allowing the annoying presence beside you to disturb your concentration. “Bold of you to assume I'm studying to ‘surpass’ you,” You responded shortly after.
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow—if you weren't studying to surpass him, then why are you working your ass off for this? He wouldn't say you're on the same level of intelligence as him but it's not like you were dumb.
But that's what you two were, right? Academic rivals, or at least, that's what he thought.
“Anyway, could you leave? I need to focus here,” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, remembering he's still in your room.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Scaramouche asks, crossing his arms as he looks down at you with a smirk. “Last time I checked, we share this dorm.”
“This dorm, not this room,” You corrected, clicking your pen. “Now leave, your annoying face is distracting me.”
How rude, he's been doing nothing but ease your mind from the stress you're experiencing. Sure he just teases the hell out of you, but can't you be a little more appreciative?
“You're an ungrateful brat, you know that?” He frowned, snatching a page of your notes from your desk. He hummed, taking a good look at what you've written, though it looked like he's just judging your handwriting.
“Who the hell needs to take notes in math? Just remember the formula and you're good to go,” Scaramouche complained. Was he just sugarcoating the question “are you stupid”? You could almost hear those same exact words in between his statements.
“Well unfortunately, not everyone is like you,” You argued before extending your hand, gesturing for the note he's still holding, “Now give that back.”
Scaramouche hummed, his eyes flickering over to you and the paper he’s holding before his lips curled upwards again. “And if I say no?” He grinned, keeping the item out of your reach.
You could almost feel a vein appear on your forehead—irritation wasn't an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to dealing with your roommate. You pushed yourself up and reached for the paper but Scaramouche was too quick to pull it away.
“Scaramouche!” You called out, the frustration in your tone becoming more apparent. His grin widened, enjoying your helplessness in this situation, “Too slow.”
You make another attempt to reach for it, lunging forward with determination, and to your misfortune, Scaramouche pulls away at the last minute—a sharp, ripping sound coming from the material, tearing down from the middle, leaving the both of you with a piece.
Scaramouche was stunned for a moment, it wasn't part of his plan to rip out your notes. His smirk falters but he composed himself, swallowing the guilt, “That was clearly your fault. If you asked nicely, I would’ve–”
Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself tumbling backwards onto your bed, the mattress creaking from the sudden weight. “Hey–! What the fuck was that for?!” He retorted, supporting himself on his elbows.
You approached him on the bed, one leg sliding in between his, your knee pressing lightly on his crotch. His eyes widened slightly from the contact, but he hid it with a scowl. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a low tone.
“You think you can just waltz in here,” You pressed down your knee, feeling his member throb. “Disturb me while I'm studying, then ruin my notes for fun?” You added more pressure, watching his adam's apple bob as he gulped.
“You think I did that on purpose?!” He argued, his cheeks puffing with red tint. The tension’s getting to him and he can't say he doesn’t like it, but that doesn't make it less embarrassing. “I would've given it back if you begged,” He added, grabbing your shoulders to push you away with an obvious half-hearted strength.
“Begging, huh?” A malicious smirk appeared on your lips. Your hand reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, revealing his garment that's now outlining a bulge.
“Hey! Don't you dare–” Scaramouche attempts to push your hand away, but you were quick enough to pin his wrists above his head. Now he was fully trapped beneath you, the warmth on his cheeks deepening as he scowled at you.
“Can't you be cooperative for once?” You huffed, now taking his boxers off. He wriggled his hips to make things difficult for you yet it only assisted in removing his garment. His cock springs out, arousal evident with how hard he already got.
You eyed him, watching his reaction once your hand was wrapped around his length, pumping to and fro. The indigo-haired boy bit his lip, suppressing his sounds, though soft whimpers escaped.
“There's no need to be shy.”
“I'm not! You're just bad at giving handjo–ohmmFuHK–♡”
“You talk too much,” You grumbled and picked up the pace. A bead of precum instantly leaked out from the head of his cock, allowing your hand to slide easily on his shaft.
Scaramouche gritted his teeth, unable to protest any longer in fear of moaning accidentally as soon as he opens his mouth. With how vulnerable he felt in this compromising position, he felt himself getting closer to edge, quicker than he usually does.
“Shit– hah.. ‘m gonna..♡” He murmured, closing his eyes as he accepted the inevitable defeat—until your hand stopped, forcing his climax to go back down.
His eyes shot open, not expecting for you to deny him release. “Why’d you stop??” Scaramouche asked frustratedly, his hips bucking to your palm to create friction.
You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, “You didn't expect to cum so easily, did you?” you teased. A baffled expression appears on the indigo haired man’s face, his eyebrows furrowing down.
“Hm, maybe if you begged,” You cooed, using his previous words against him as you start stroking his cock once more, “I might just consider it.”
His eyes widened a little more, begging? You must be out of your mind if you think you'll get the Scaramouche to beg, much less for a release.
But things aren't working out to his favor. Your hand around the length, the relentless pace returning as his hips snapped from the sensation. Scaramouche could no longer argue; the pressure mounting inside him was too much, threatening to explode once again.
“Too fast– ngh– gonna..! ♡” he whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as his body tensed, unable to hold back the impending release. Just as he felt himself teetering on the edge, your hand abruptly stopped again, “Didn't I say you should beg?”
His eyes fluttered open, a mixture of frustration and desperation on his face. “I never agreed to do that,” He huffed, wiggling his wrists out of your grip.
Seems like a simple handjob won't do the trick. Deciding to take it up a notch, you pulled your own pants down. The blush on Scaramouche's face tripled, “What are you planning?” He asked in a sharp tone though he can't deny how his cock throbbed at the sight of your own.
“Don’t play stupid,” You sneered, grinding the head on Scaramouche's ass, pressing your body against his to spread his legs; your free hand moved to his hips, supporting your position.
His eyebrows furrowed further to your comment, lips quivering as he slowly engulfs your length. Once you full bottom out, Scaramouche tried to relax, his breath coming with uneven huffs as he adjusted to the intrusion.
“You look cute underneath me like this,” You teased as you started to thrust into him at a languid pace. A gasp would leave his mouth every time you'd rub him deeply inside—If he could, he'd grab onto you or the sheets to ground himself, but with his wrists still pinned down by your grip, all he could do was accept the sensation.
It wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He's a patient man and you'll start to get needy soon, Scaramouche thinks to himself. Unfortunately, this was a game he was losing. “Would you stop playing around!?” he hissed, the desperation seething with every word.
You kept the agonizingly slow pace, dragging out every second, watching him writhe with need. Every teasing thrust had him gasping, his body trembling with anticipation, yet you refused to give him what he wanted.
Scaramouche's frustration finally reached its peak, patience snapping as he growled through gritted teeth. “If you’re going fuck me, then fuck me properly!” He spat, his indigo eyes narrowing in aggravation. “Or are you so incompetent that you can’t even do this right?” His voice trembled though still attempted to argue.
You raised an eyebrow, your amusement only growing at his outburst. “Bold words,” you smirked, leaning down to kiss his neck, “for someone who’s trembling.”
“Youhnn♡... jerk!” Scaramouche retorted, his voice laced with both frustration and embarrassment as his body trembled beneath yours again. “Fucking brat..” he added, breathless as his chest heaved with every sharp inhale, his emotions threatening to spill over completely.
“Ironic,” You laughed. Scaramouche’s frustration mounted as his head fell back against the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the watery sensation. He couldn’t stand this anymore. The humiliation, the teasing—it was too much.
“Shut up...” he whispered, voice trembling as tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. His breath hitched, and despite himself, a frustrated sob broke through his chest. “Shut up and just–just fuck me already!” His voice wavered, filled with desperation.
The word left his lips before he could stop it, and the moment it did, Scaramouche’s defiance shattered completely. He was crying now, tears mixing with frustration as his body gave up the fight. “Fuck me properly already.. please..!” He whimpered, the last word coming out unexpectedly.
You didn't think he'd cry from desperation but it was definitely a beautiful sight. Just having the ever so prideful and arrogant Scaramouche trembling, crying, and begging underneath you.. it was like you're on top of the world already.
Finally getting what you wanted, you firmly grabbed his hips and gave him one rough thrust, to which he responded with a choked out gasp. “Like that?” You murmured.
“Yes!♡ Ohngh god.. more! ♡” He moaned, his back arching with how precise your cock has hit his sensitive prostate. You've been teasing and edging him for too long, it feels like he's about to crumble just this very moment.
As you continued fucking his ass with more enthusiasm, Scaramouche could no longer stop his wanton moans. “More, please..hah–♡” He begged though still quite with a demanding tone, “Don't you–mmngh♡♡–dare stop..!”
You feel him slowly tightening around your length, his climax building up once more.
“I'm close–”
“You know what to say.”
“..let me cum.. please–AHnggh!♡♡”
How does the word ‘please’ sound so good from his mouth? It only motivated you to finally let him get his release, pounding him vigorously without a break. The overwhelming sensation has his legs shaking, and with one last scream– “C-Comingghmmm..!!♡♡♡”
Ropes of thick cum shot out, landing on his stomach. He whimpered and panted heavily, all energy he had earlier now extinct. You continued to thrust a little more before your own orgasm joined him, your body slowly collapsing on top of him.
The two of you stayed there, bodies sticking with sweat and other fluids. “I'm still not letting you off the hook about my notes,” you wheezed, managing a tired grin.
“I have some.. in my room,” he muttered, his voice weak and a little hoarse. He was still catching his breath but his usual sharpness had faded, replaced with exhaustion and a hint of embarrassment.
“In math? I thought you didn't need that,” you smirked as you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “You better not be lying, or we’ll be doing this all over again.”
Scaramouche let out a quiet scoff, his usual attitude barely making a comeback. “As if you’d complain.”
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pedroscurls · 2 months ago
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welcome to broadway (one-shot)
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summary: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 5.4k warnings: dry humping, suggestive smut (sorry - didn't go explicit in this one!), light dirty talk (this also isn't proofread, so apologies for any typos!!!) a/n: to the anon and @sir-thisisadndserver who both requested a story about broadway, i hope you both enjoyed this!!! (ugh, i wish i could watch the music man in good quality bc he just looks so good in it. but also, hugh in oklahoma! has done things to me... my god, his voice, the curls, just everything.) i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.
THE TABLE READ
You can’t believe it. Lead role of Oklahoma for their anniversary showing. Twenty five years later and while mostly everyone came back except the role of Laurey, you were the only odd one out. You knew what this play entailed, knew exactly how it would end. You also knew that you’d be playing alongside Hugh Jackman, who was reprising his role as Curly. 
You’re excited, yet nervous. Hugh Jackman not only was an amazing movie and television actor, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t watch most (if not all) of his shows on Broadway. His sheer talent truly captivated, yet intimidated you. You don’t know how you will be able to act “normal” around him. He isn’t just talented, but he’s also incredibly attractive. Anyone with eyes would be able to see that. 
You’re the first one seated at the table and notice Hugh is set to sit next to you. You keep your eyes focused on the pages in front of you, trying to calm your nerves and get yourself ready to be in character. You can hear people come in, excitement and laughter filtering the room. You take a deep breath and stand up to introduce yourself. You’re taken aback by how welcoming everyone is and it puts you at ease, your nerves slowly beginning to die down. Everyone’s excitement is infectious, making you feel immensely thankful to be part of this cast. 
Your back is turned to the door, talking to one of the cast members that you don’t realize Hugh Jackman has finally arrived. He’s greeting everyone with a large grin and waves and you don’t notice. Not until you feel a soft touch in the middle of your back. Slowly, you turn around and look up, eyes slightly going wide as you stare up at him. 
He’s staring down at you with such a large smile that it literally makes you feel weak in the knees. Yeah, you don’t know how you’re going to get through this play without fawning over him, especially since your character – Laurey – tries to hide her feelings for Curly for the majority of the play. 
“Hello there,” he says softly, hand extending out for you to take. “I don’t think we’ve gotten the chance to meet yet. I’m Hugh.”
You bite your lower lip and extend your own hand, gently sliding it into his and shaking it slowly. “Hi,” you smile shyly and tell him your name. “It’s an honor to share the stage with you. I’ve been a huge fan.” 
Hugh chuckles, his hand soft and light with yours. He releases your hand and keeps his eyes solely focused on you. “I’m a huge fan as well,” he admits. “I’m glad you get to be my Laurey.” 
My Laurey. You feel your heart rate beat ten times faster, heat rising in your cheeks. “And you, my Curly.” 
He lets out a quiet chuckle, hands moving to his pockets. Hugh finds your energy and presence very calming and despite this being your first ever time on Broadway, he has to commend you for being professional. Though, he can see the excitement that flickers in your eyes. He knows that look, has even donned that same look every time he got on stage. “So, I hear this is your first time?” 
“On Broadway, yeah. Do I seem too nervous?” you laugh, biting your lower lip. “Because if I do, it’s because I am. I’m trying to keep it cool, but to be in a room with all of you? I just can’t believe it. I don’t want to mess up.” 
Hugh’s eyes softened. “Eh, we’re just a group of people who love to perform, including you. We’re all gonna make mistakes along the way, even on opening night, but as long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”
You’ve heard stories of Hugh – how he puts people at ease, looks out for everyone in the cast and crew, and right now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. You suddenly feel your nerves disappear under his gaze and for once since finding out that you’d be playing the lead role of Laurey, you feel immense excitement. You’ve never been one to be shy on stage, but knowing that you’d be the new person in this cast instilled anxiety in you. They’ve done this before. They’ve played these same roles. And ultimately, you didn’t want to disappoint any of them.
“Thank you,” you finally reply. “I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.” 
“Well, if you never need more reassurance, I’m your man.” he winks. 
The theater director calls everyone’s attention, making a short speech at how it’s great to be back and how amazing of a show you were all going to have. You look around the room, seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces before you finally look up at Hugh. You’re surprised because he’s already looking down at you, giving you a reassuring nod as you feel his hand brush against yours. 
The subtle action grounds you, settles the nerves that begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You feel a sudden calmness wash over you as you take a deep breath, pulling your gaze away from him when you hear your name being called. 
“And we have our Laurey,” your theater director says, everyone clapping and cheering for you. “Welcome,” he says with a grin. “We’re lucky to have you.” 
You smile in his direction, nodding at everyone else in the room. “Glad to be part of this amazing cast,” you reply, everyone continuing to clap before it begins to slow down. 
“And our Curly,” the theater director continues, nodding towards the man standing next to you. “We’re all so excited that you’re here to reprise your role. It’s gonna be a great show.”
Once the theater director finishes his speech, everyone in the room takes their respective seats. Hugh pulls out your chair for you and you smile up at him, sitting down as he pushes it in for you. 
“Thank you,” you tell him.
“Anytime,” he winks. 
Throughout the table read, you finally feel at ease, comfortable in your element as you change your accent to reflect your character’s. Hugh changes his own and how lucky of you to get a front seat of his skill and talent. He turns to you, saying his lines at the beginning of the play. “On'y she talked so mean to me a while back, Aunt Eller, I'm a good mind not to take her.”
He’s staring at you with a charming smile, leaning back against his seat with his eyes staring into yours. 
You then say your line, rolling your eyes with your arms crossed over your chest. “Ain't said I was goin'!” 
Hugh then says his line almost immediately, “Ain't ast you!”
There’s a silence that engulfs the entire room as you two stare at each other. He’s still staring at you with a big grin and you with a frown on your face and eyes narrowed. You’re surprised at how much chemistry you already have with him, how easy it is to slip into the role of Laurey and exchange lines with him without any issue. 
As the table read continues, you can’t help but take notice of Hugh’s presence next to you. The scene where you kiss approaches and you know that it isn’t going to happen here, today, but to know that you will eventually have to kiss him makes you nervous, but also very excited. 
By the time the table read ends, a few hours have passed and everyone claps. The theater director dismisses all of you, saying that rehearsals will begin next week. You begin to pack your things before you feel Hugh gently reach a hand out to rest over your forearm. 
“You did great,” he says. “And to think you were nervous?” 
“I was,” you laugh quietly. “But I guess you helped ease my nerves.”
“I did, huh?” he smiles proudly. “Well, I suppose I should say you’re welcome.” 
You shake your head, standing up from the table and seeing him follow suit. “I was wondering–”
“Do you think we should–” 
You both say simultaneously, both letting out a quiet laugh. “You first,” you tell him, gazing up at him. 
Hugh smiles, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Would you be okay with exchanging numbers? We can go over lines sometime when we’re not in rehearsal to get more practice in.”
You’re trying to contain your excitement, trying to remain calm and collected, so you give him a nod and then reach for your phone. “I was thinking the same thing. Here,” you hand him your phone and see him give you his. “Maybe we can meet up for coffee later this week?” 
Hugh smiles, typing in his number into your phone. “That’d be great. I know a perfect place.” 
You smile to yourself and type in your number before handing his phone back to him and taking your phone from him. “Perfect,” you respond, putting your phone back into your bag. “And if I get nervous at all–”
“Feel free to text me. Or call me.” Hugh finishes for you. “Like I said, I’m your man.” 
“Thanks, Curly,” you grin, changing your accent to reflect Laurey. “That’s mighty kind’a you.” 
Hugh chuckles, his eyes twinkling in the light as he smiles down at you. “Anythin’ for ya, Laurey.” 
REHEARSALS
The rehearsals have become more frequent as the date of opening night looms closer. You and Hugh have spent so much time together outside of rehearsals, either you coming by to his place or him coming to yours. Your relationship with him has blossomed in the span of a few months, feeling much more comfortable and confident around him. The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself catching feelings for him. You wonder if it’s because of the nature of the role you’re playing, being the love interest of his and the fact that you both have rehearsed the kiss and dances multiple times. 
Though, you can’t help but notice the frequent texts and calls from him that have nothing to do with the play, or the way he lingers around you, some part of him always needing to touch you – on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, your hand. It all seems innocent enough, but with each touch, with each lingering gaze, you feel more and more attracted to the possibility that maybe the feelings are mutual.
Today, it’s only you and Hugh in rehearsals, practicing the dance in the dream sequence. You’ve both gone over the dance plenty of times today, both drenched in sweat. You take a short break, sitting down on the floor as your back rests against the wall. You take a long swig of water before Hugh takes a seat next to you, his side flush against yours. 
“Hey you,” he says, smiling in your direction. “You really know how to push me,” Hugh chuckles. “And I thought I was the hardest worker. You definitely make me look like I’m not doing enough,” he teases. 
You roll your eyes, gently nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh please, I’m only pushing you because you’re pushing me.” 
“What do you say?” Hugh asks. “One more rehearsal and we call it a night? Grab a bite to eat at my place?” 
“That sounds amazing,” you sigh in relief. “I’d have kept going if you hadn’t said anything.” 
Hugh chuckles, moving an arm around your shoulders as you lean into him. “You know, you can tell me to slow down. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”
“I know,” you reply. “I just wanna prove to you and everyone else that I’m meant to be here.”
Hugh tilts his head. “You are meant to be here. You’ve got a lot of talent,” he says your name, eyes gazing into yours. “And this is just the beginning for you.” 
“Yeah, we’ll see after opening night,” you chuckle. 
“Not only are you talented,” Hugh says. “But you also love being on stage. Everyone can see it, can feel it. The audience will too. Now, get off your ass and let’s finish this dance.” He smiles, standing up and reaching out for you. 
You chuckle, taking his hands and standing up with his help. Your hands immediately dart out to rest on his shoulders, bodies flush against each other as your nose brushes against his. 
“Thank you,” you whisper. “For always reassuring me. I’m sure it’s exhausting.”
Hugh’s eyes never leave yours as one hand moves to rest on your lower back and the other takes your hand in his. “Not exhausting at all, baby,” he replies, his breath fanning over your lips. 
You clear your throat at the pet name, biting your lower lip as the music begins to play. You take a deep breath, trying to snap out of the trance that he put you in to focus on the dance sequence. Your gaze never leaves his as you both move across the dance floor. It was that specific moment where you were sure that he felt the same way. 
After rehearsals, you drive to Hugh’s place and see him step out of his car with a box of pizza. He leads you inside and walks into the kitchen, sitting at the table. You walk over to him and sit next to him, inhaling the aroma of food once he opens the box. 
“God, I feel like I can eat this whole thing,” you chuckle, taking a slice of pizza and lifting it to your lips. You’ve always felt comfortable around Hugh and you have to wonder if it’s because of him, how calm and grounded he makes you feel. You’re continuing to eat, eyes falling shut as you sway your body in the seat, just happy to be eating something. 
Hugh watches you with a loving gaze, eyes scanning your face as he stares at you. He certainly didn’t expect you to come into his life the way you did. It’s no secret that he gets along with everyone and has chemistry with every leading lady in his roles, but you… You’re a completely different story. He finds your passion to perform refreshing and your talent invigorating. Not only are you professional, but he appreciates your ability to put your all into each performance, even though it’s only rehearsal. It gets him excited to know that come opening night, everyone will know just how talented you are. 
He’s taken out of his thoughts when he sees you open your eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow. 
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask.
Hugh smiles, eyes lowering to your lips as he sees pizza sauce at the corner of your lips. He also loves the fact that you’re not shy around him. He reaches up and wipes the pizza sauce from your lips with the pad of your thumb, staring into your eyes. “You’re a messy eater when you’re hungry.” 
The heat in your cheeks rises once again as you set the pizza slice down to grab a napkin, wiping your mouth. “You should have fed me during our break earlier.” 
Hugh chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Fair enough.” He doesn’t break the gaze, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips and licking the pizza sauce from it. He sees your eyes dip down to his lips, hearing you quietly clear your throat as you bite your lower lip. 
“You’re cute, you know that?” Hugh blurts out, head tilting as he stares into your eyes. 
You roll your eyes and gently reach out to shove his shoulder. “Yeah right.”
Hugh chuckles, leaning forward in your space. “You are,” he whispers. “And there’s just something about you. I can’t put my finger on it…”
“Hmm…” you say quietly, eyes continuously darting to his lips. “Hugh…”
“Yeah, baby?” he says lowly. 
“Is this–” you whisper. “Is this appropriate?” 
Hugh then leans back, shrugging a shoulder. “Probably not,” he admits. “But I can’t be the only one who feels something between us…”
You look up at him, wanting to reach out for him, to pull him back closer, but you don’t. You’ve wanted him for months now, wanted this moment to happen for so long, but you couldn’t. You just didn’t know how things would change if you were both to cross that boundary… Even though you’ve both probably crossed so many lines already. 
“You aren’t,” you admit. “I want this just as badly as you, but–”
“Not yet,” he finishes for you. “After the play.”
You nod. “I just don’t know what’d happen if we do this while we’re still in production… I’ve waited for a few months, another few won’t hurt, right?”
Hugh bites his lower lip and shrugs. “Might hurt me,” he teases. “I mean, we’ve kissed already as Curly and Laurey. But I’d love to just kiss you as… As me.” 
“A kiss wouldn’t hurt,” you say quietly, slowly leaning into him. “But that’s all we can do.” 
Hugh nods and stands up from the chair to pull you up into him. The lights from the city reflect off his large windows as his hand rests on your lower back and the other on your cheek. Slowly, he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. 
“If we do this,” he whispers lowly. “There’s no going back.” 
“Fine with me,” you answer. “Now kiss me already.” 
Hugh grins and then presses his lips against yours, fingertips resting on the back of your neck. You’ve both kissed so many times already, but this time feels so much more different. Your lips move against his own, hands moving to grip his arms. Hugh walks you back into his window, feeling the glass press against your back as his hand moves from your lower back to your hip. Your lips part for him and he slides his tongue past your lips, hearing you whimper as a result. 
The kiss deepens as tongues get involved, lips moving with more urgency against one another. You’re about to bring your leg up to hook around his hip, but you stop yourself, moving your hands to his chest and slowly pulling him away. Breathless and panting. 
Hugh rests his forehead against yours, eyes remaining shut. “I’d say that was a great real first kiss,” he laughs quietly. 
“Waiting for a few more months might prove to be tough,” you admit, moving your hands into his hair and tangling your fingers into his locks. 
Hugh chuckles and pecks your lips softly, pulling back to look down at you. “Maybe we don’t go the full distance… yet.” 
“What do you have in mind?” you ask, biting your lower lip as you stare up at him with desire filled in your orbs. 
“Come on.” Hugh takes your hand and leads you to his couch, sitting down against it and pulling you down onto him. You straddle his hips, clearing your throat as you feel his manhood press against your core. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips, leaning his head up slightly to capture your lips once more. 
“This okay?” he mumbles against your lips.
“More than okay,” you answer, beginning to move your lips with his. Without hesitation, you roll your hips against his own. You’re wearing leggings and he’s wearing sweatpants and while the fabric isn’t as thick as jeans, it’s still too much clothing for you because you need to feel more. You need to feel all of him. 
Hugh groans against your lips, feeling his manhood begin to stir awake at the friction. His hands slowly move upwards, underneath your shirt as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your skin. He leans up to gently bite at your lower lip, your moan escaping your lips. 
You apply more pressure when your hips roll against his, his length hardening and straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. You feel a wetness pool between your legs, an anticipation settling into the pit of your stomach. You don’t know how you would wait another few months before fully feeling him inside of you since this sneak peek wasn’t helping. Instead, you’re yearning for more.
Hugh pulls away from the kiss only to place gentle kisses along your jawline, his hands continuing to move up your back, his fingertips brushing against your sports bra and back down to your lower back. The pressure in his pants tighten and he wants nothing more than to rip your leggings off your legs and slam into you, but he has to show some restraint.
You tilt your head slightly for him, exposing more of your neck as you feel his lips and his scruff brush against one of your many hot spots. You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders. 
“Hugh,” you moan quietly. When you feel his teeth graze your skin, you have to pull back to look down at him. Your chest is heaving and you’re almost breathless. “Mmm, if we don’t stop,” you whisper. “I won’t be able to control what will happen next.” 
Hugh smirks, licking his lips slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Let me just…” Hugh gently sets you down next to him, readjusting himself in his sweatpants and the action doesn’t go unnoticed. You can see the obvious tent in his pants and his hand grasping himself to adjust his hardening length into a much more comfortable position. You can see the outline of his manhood, feeling your throat go dry at the sight. He’s long and thick and you have to peel your eyes away from him to avoid just settling yourself on your knees between his legs. 
Hugh watches you, eyes taking in your frame from top to bottom. It doesn’t help lessen the pressure in his pants because it only just makes him harder. “I’m actually going to…” he begins, pointing down to the center of his sweatpants. “I’m gonna take care of this. Will you be okay for a bit?” 
You clear your throat. The thought of being under the same roof as Hugh as he’s jerking himself off to the thought of you excites you. “Y— Yeah, I’ll be, um…” you bite your lower lip. “I’ll be here.” 
Hugh nods and then leans over to kiss your cheek, lips brushing against your ear. “If I had it my way, you’d be the one helping me take care of this.”
You shiver against his words and look up at him. “And if I had it my way, I’d drop to my knees in front of you to take care of it.”
Hugh growls, the sight of you on your knees now fully ingrained in his mind. “Great,” he chuckles. “I’m gonna keep that in mind while I…” he points towards his lower half. “While I handle this.” Hugh then stands up from the couch and excuses himself to go to the bathroom, allowing you to lie down on the couch and letting out an exasperated sigh. 
“It’s gonna be a long few months,” you mutter to yourself.
OPENING NIGHT
You feel the nerves begin to build as you’re all getting ready to perform for opening night. You and the rest of the cast and crew are all ready to perform, but you… You’re anxious. You’re nervous. You’re afraid that you’re going to mess up, so when Hugh rests a hand on your lower back, you look up at him with a tense look on your face. 
“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he whispers. “Just have fun.”
You nod, feeling his hand drop from your lower back and you reach for it, giving it a tight squeeze. “Okay,” you say. “Just have fun,” you repeat. 
“Exactly. Let’s have a great show, yeah?” Hugh reassures. “And after this,” he whispers, lowering enough so that his lips hover against your ear. “We can finally go back to my place and take the next step.” 
That makes you stand straighter. You had been so focused on making sure that your performance was perfect as opening night approaches that you and Hugh hadn’t had an intense, passion-filled night since the night you had your first kiss with him. 
You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as he pulls away with a wink. “You know just the right things to say,” you chuckle. 
Hugh grins. “I knew that’d get you excited.” 
You feel your nerves begin to settle as the curtain begins to rise, knowing that Hugh’s character begins the play with a song Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’. 
Throughout the play, you feel at ease once you step on stage, easily slipping into character. The back and forth banter between your character and Hugh’s are filled with a hidden and unspoken passion that you have for each other. Despite the roles you’re both playing, you can feel the tension and excitement bubbling within you as the play continues. 
Just another hour and then you and Hugh can finally have the moment you both were waiting for. 
Your first time on Broadway proves to be more than what you expected and you love it. Being on stage, under the bright lights, with a cast and crew that has the same excitement and passion as you makes you aware of the fact that this is truly where you’re meant to be. You couldn’t believe that you had questioned yourself at the beginning of all of this. 
After the scene where Laurey fires Jud, you know what’s coming. The kiss with Curly, followed by the marriage proposal. Once your lips touch Hugh’s, it’s filled with so much passion and relief. Part of you has to wonder if it’s because the characters, Curly and Laurey, finally admitting the love they have for each other, or if it’s because the end of the play is nearing. 
And it isn’t until you pull away that you see a fleeting familiarity flicker in Hugh’s eyes, a grin lining his lips. Throughout the next scenes, you’re both side by side, basked in the joy of being newlyweds and you know there’s a scene where Hugh is shirtless with suspenders. You are both backstage, getting ready for the next scene as you see him flex his arms subconsciously. 
You’ve seen him shirtless before, but right now, there’s something about the sight that makes an immediate wetness pool between your legs. When Hugh looks over at you, he gives you a wink, knowing exactly that you were just checking him out. 
Throughout the rest of the play, as it nears the end, you can’t help the excitement that bubbles within you. It isn’t until the end of the play that Hugh’s touch becomes more urgent, like he’s just as ready to leave with you. Each person with a pivotal role is introduced at the end as they bow towards the audience. 
However, it isn’t until your name is called that the entire audience’s cheers become much louder. You walk towards the edge of the stage and bow, smiling and waving as they give you a standing ovation. You look back at your cast, back at Hugh, who all are clapping for you. 
It was a perfect night and you know it’s only beginning. 
You and Hugh join the rest of the cast for a celebratory after party, having changed into much more comfortable clothing. You’re both at other ends of the room, but while you’re each in a conversation with someone else, your gaze is locked on one another. 
It isn’t a secret that you’re attracted to each other, but tonight, it’s completely obvious. Hugh’s eyes move along your frame slowly and under his gaze – even from afar – it excites you. You look at the time, knowing that it’s already so late and you’re ready to leave. With Hugh. 
You make your rounds, saying goodbye to everyone until you reach Hugh. He excuses himself from the person he was speaking to and meets you halfway, eyes filled with anticipation. 
“I’m heading out,” you say softly. 
“Meet at my place?” Hugh asks.
You bite your lower lip and nod. “I’ll see you there.”
Hugh then reaches out for his phone and sends you a text. You pull out your phone and see a four digit number, furrowing a brow in confusion. “What’s this?”
“The code to get into my place,” Hugh confirms. “If you get there before me, feel free to let yourself in.”
You smile to yourself and then reach up to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “It was a great night, Curly.” 
Hugh’s arm tightens around your frame as he shuts his eyes, whispering into your ear. “And it’s only just starting, Laurey.” He pulls back and kisses your cheek, lingering for a moment before he pulls away completely. “I’ll see you in a bit, baby.” 
You leave the party and make your way to your car, anticipation simmering in your depths. You drive to Hugh’s house, knowing that you’d get there before him. So, when you enter the four digit code the gave you, you see the gates open and you drive into his driveway, the garage opening up for you. 
Just a few minutes after you park, Hugh pulls in behind you. You step out of your car and look over at him, seeing him turn off the headlights once he puts his car in park. He climbs out and strides over to you, arms wrapping around your waist immediately. Without allowing you to speak, he dips down and presses his lips against yours, moving them eagerly against yours. 
“Mmm,” you whimper, feeling his hand move to your backside as he gently squeezes it into his hand. 
“Let’s go inside,” he mumbles, pulling back to look down at you. “I’ve been waiting for months for this,” Hugh chuckles. 
You nod and take his hand, following him inside his home. You don’t get far because you lead him to his living room where you push him back onto his couch and you straddle his hips like the first night you shared your first real kiss with him. 
He doesn’t waste any time in removing your shirt though, growling at the sight of you completely exposed for him, having decided on not wearing a bra. Hugh feels drunk off of you, his mind swirling with the immense thoughts and ideas of what he wants to do to you tonight. He knows he won’t get a chance to do them all in one night, but he just isn’t sure what to do first. He wants to taste you, wants to be head first between your legs. But he also wants to feel your walls wrapped around him, milking him to his own release. 
But your moans… your moans pull him out of his thoughts and he’s suddenly very aware of the look on your face. The heat in your cheeks. Your parted lips. Your breaths coming in short pants. You want this just as bad as he does and it only excites him further. 
“You did amazing tonight, baby,” Hugh says softly, hands coming up to brush against you. 
You whimper, looking deeply into his eyes. “Thank you,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as his thumbs brush against your peaks. “Hugh…” you moan quietly. 
“I know, baby. I know… Let me take care of you.” 
Throughout that night, you barely got any sleep, but when you did, you were completely spent. Hugh had helped you reach your climax more times than you can count and that had never happened before. He was so generous, so considerate, but it was only because he yearned for the sounds that escaped your lips. Loved to see you squirm against his touch, enjoyed the sight of your eyes fluttering when he finally entered you. 
Hugh knew he wanted more. Needed more. He felt like a possessed man once he finally got that first taste of you. You unleashed something almost animalistic in him – the desire to see you come undone. The first time it happened that night, Hugh was in absolute awe. The way you arched your back, lips apart, body squirming against his mattress and a loud moan escaping your lips… it made Hugh want more of that. Want more of you. 
And he was certainly going to get it, that he was sure of.
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girllblogging777 · 4 months ago
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𝑀𝐼𝐷𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆
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↳ frenemies mattheo riddle x fem!reader (drabble)
↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0,7k
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo enjoys teasing the overachiever girl, until she lets him see her wild side (anon request)
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the sound of your footsteps echoed through the dark, empty hallways of hogwarts. you were making your way back from a late-night study session in the library, with your arms full of books, and eyelids heavy with exhaustion. your overachiever nature had kept you there for hours, to the point where the words on the pages started to blur. tired as you were, you didn’t notice the tall figure approaching.
“and what are you doing, wandering the hallways after curfew?” a familiar voice called out, a hint of amusement in it. you couldn’t see his face clearly, but the dark energy and broad shoulders told you exactly who it was. mattheo riddle. you two had been partnered in potions a few months back, and now he seemed to think it was his job to bother you whenever he pleased.
you tried to sound confident, but your exhaustion made your voice come out weaker than you intended. “none of your business, riddle,” you said, pausing for a moment before adding, “i was studying for the history of magic exam. now, can you leave me alone?” but mattheo didn’t move, instead, his eyes shamelessly scanned you from head to toe, his expression unreadable.
“studying this late at night?” he asked, though it wasn’t a question. he knew well enough how serious you were about your studies, always at the top of the class, not just in your house, but probably in all of them. “yeah,” you shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal.
he looked you over again for a few seconds, then smirked, muttering, “good girl.” his words, paired with that devilish grin, sent a strange thrill through you, making your knees feel weak. it wasn’t just the exhaustion this time. your mind went blank, and all you could do was nod before turning and walking away. but as you did, you couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and lower stomach : you liked being praised.
✩✩✩✩
that same feeling hit you again a couple of weeks later when you got an a+ on the history of magic essay you’d studied so hard for. you were sitting in potions next to your infamous curly-haired partner, still buzzing from your grade, when mattheo’s voice cut through your thoughts.
“so, what’d you get in history of magic?” he asked, his eyes genuinely interested as they met yours.
you tried to play it cool, shrugging as you whispered back, “oh, i got an A.” he nodded, like he expected that answer. of course, he did. everyone knew you always got good grades—the only person who ever doubted it was you.
“there’s a party friday night in the slytherin common room,” he said casually, “you coming? after all that studying, you deserve a reward.” the bell rang before you could answer, and as you packed up your things, you finally replied, “i’ll think about it.” with that, you turned and left the classroom, not without hearing the words “atta girl” leaving his mouth in a whisper.
✩✩✩✩
that friday night, the slytherin common room was alive with music and laughter. people were either dancing wildly or getting drunk by the bar, the atmosphere electric. you were stretched out confidently on a sofa with your friends, head back as you laughed at their jokes. at one point, one of them handed you a cigarette, and you took it, inhaling slowly and leaving a lipstick mark on the filter. what you didn’t notice was mattheo, watching you from across the room, his jaw practically on the floor. he’d expected you to show up, but he hadn’t expected to see you enjoying yourself this much. when he saw you exhale a cloud of smoke, he was practically drooling.
a couple of hours later, feeling a buzz from the alcohol, you decided to get up and dance. the stress of exam week was long gone as you began to sway your hips to the music with your friends. mattheo barely had time to react before he saw you climb onto a table, flipping your hair and grinding against one of your friends. “what. the actual. fuck,” he muttered, his words slurred from the drinks. his friends overheard and chuckled, “yeah, man, looks like your good girl is the life of the party tonight.”
the night in the slytherin common room was wild, and you were the center of it all, dancing without a care. the music and drinks had you feeling more free than you had in weeks.
you could feel mattheo’s eyes on you the whole time. his usual smirk was gone, replaced with something like fascination. after a while, you made your way over to him, heart pounding.
“what’s wrong, riddle?” you teased, leaning close. “cat got your tongue?” he stared at you, voice low when he finally spoke. “didn’t know you had this side to you.”
“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied with a smile. he just watched you, clearly intrigued, as you turned and walked away, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see this side of you. “merlin, this girl is gonna be the death of me…”
✩✩✩✩
a/n : this is my first time writing based of a request, but they’re now open so send me some ideas !!! please like/comment/reblog (and i promise part 4 of “untouchable” will be here soon)
tell me if you wanna be in the tag list xx
@elsie-bells @reys-letters @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @myunperfektstorys @enyway @icantkeepmyplantsalive @shiftingwithmars @mattheosdior @deadghosy @larmesdevanille @moonlightreader649 @fbvreadingblog @iris-qt @fluffycookies22 @yikesitslush @bellatrix-lestrange5 @jolly4holly
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whyissupernaturaltrending · 8 months ago
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April 5-6, 2024 - a character on 9-1-1 came out so of course it's Supernatural that trends.
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9-1-1, a show about Los Angeles first responsers which started airing in 2018, has just begun its season 7. The 100th episode aired on April 4 and it was another win for bisexuals, as one of the characters, Buck, was kissed on the lips by another man and you can see his reaction on this gifset: [here].
Be it in celebration and support or bittersweet envy and crushed dreams, this seemingly caused for Supernatural to land on the second spot on the trending page.
It was probably the mixture of the destiel meme [x] and people including the two shows within the same posts [x] [x], possibly aided by today's being the 5th of the month. Regardless, the destiel shippers observing the happenings seem to be happy for all 9-1-1 fans whilst incoherent destiel screams are filling their minds.
Big thanks to everyone who commented on this post with the info and the anons, I thought I was losing my mind.
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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months ago
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— mattel
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SUMMARY : “it’s been a few years since tfw got out of the life, dean and reader are married, etc. dean’s been a little self-conscious lately—he doesn’t look like how he used to; he’s put on a few pounds. just dean with love handles (PLEASEEEEE dean with love handles lives rent free in my mind) body (dean’s) appreciation, lovey dovey stuff like that. reader taking care of him :))))) dean smut fic!!!!!” - anon
PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader
CHARACTERS : Alison (OFC)
WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluffy, little angst, shameless horniess, dirty thoughts, size kink ngl
WORD COUNT : 2.9k
A/N : title from an avenged sevenfold song. this fills the square for sex shop on my @jacklesversebingo card. there will be a second part, hehe. xx
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“Wow,” you looked around with your lips parted in astonishment at the hundreds of sex toys that covered the wall from top to bottom. “I’ve been missing out.” They had cute names and cute ‘mascots’ stamped on the boxes that held the toys within. You saw bunnies and panda bears and pretty colours like pink, purple, and sky blue.
Dean chuckled behind you and you turned to watch him roll his eyes as he looked to the side. You followed his gaze and you were bombarded with lewd sex books. One of them was open on a bookstand to a page with a man and woman having sex in a position that seemed too acrobatic to actually be pleasurable. You blinked, jaw dropped in shock, and turned your eyes to Dean whose cheeks turned deep red when he met your gaze.
“I’d break something if we tried this!” You exclaimed to make things worse for Dean, and took the same book that resided next to it to quickly flip through it, not nearly as excitedly as you’d hate to admit you were. “This can’t be purely for my enjoyment. Although this one looks hot! Imagine if you did tha- hey!” Dean snatched the book from your hands when two women giggled as they walked around the two of you. 
You looked up at him innocently, but mostly seductively when he pulled you into the lingerie section. He shoved the book he’d forgotten about into one of the shelves. Now you knew why he decided to take you this early in the morning. The shop was practically empty after two hours of being open. And Dean, the grumpy morning person he was, hurried you into getting dressed so you could arrive ‘early’ after checking his phone a couple of times. (You imagined he checked the hours and days the shop was less busy and it amused you further.)
“You need to take this seriously,” he murmured, his attention mostly focused on one of the sets above your head. You bit your lip to hide your smirk, but failed and grinned mischievously at him. 
“I am!” You pouted, subtly looking at the lingerie set that caught his eye. He gave you a look and you defensively crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from him. “Fine! I’ll pick something, go ask one of the women what they recommend for us, you know, something we can share-” 
“What?” Dean suddenly sounded more embarrassed and in disbelief at your request. You could feel him get closer and your skin prickled with foreshadowing excitement. 
“Oh, come on.” You turned to punch his arm gently, but he still rubbed the spot. “It’ll be cute to them, just let me look around some more… Please?” He bit his lip thoughtfully and you did the same to hold back a moan at the sight of him in a plain black t-shirt and the same sweatpants he’d abandoned the night before when he made you choke on his dick and beg for him to-
“Okay, baby.” He leaned down to peck your lips and then kissed your forehead as your stomach lurched with elation and your breath bubbled in your chest. You smiled softly at him, your dirty memory evaporating like a puddle in the middle of summer. 
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You tried to act as casually as you could after stepping out of the dressing room at the back of the sex shop and looked for where Dean was. The same woman—Alison—who’d helped you get away with your secret, winked at you as she talked Dean’s ear off about the toy you figured one of the other employees suggested to Dean. 
You carried a small bullet vibrator Alison suggested—for discrete purposes—and a lingerie set. Not the one Dean was staring at earlier, you were currently wearing it beneath your lavender dress. Alison was clearly devious and not judgmental about your request when you’d approached her about it. 
Dean visibly relaxed when he saw you and you smiled at him as he thanked Alison. Your eyes dropped to the box and you quickly read Tenuto Mini and you lifted a brow inquiringly at Dean.
“Well, if you have any more questions, I’d be happy to help!” Alison chirped and smiled wide as she walked off. You pursed your lips and watched her long brown hair sway across her back. Suddenly, you began to second-guess your daring move.
“Sweetheart.” Dean’s hand finding yours pulled you out of your flight-freeze state. 
“Hey,” you breathed and attempted to smile normally at him, “find something good?” 
His eyes slowly moved across your face and you felt your cheeks become warm. Could he read your mind, suddenly? You forced yourself to think of food and your favourite places to have lunch in order to push away your sexual thoughts. Fear is never good for you. 
“I dunno,” he murmured unenthusiastically. Your smile fell and concern wrinkled your forehead as you traced the beautiful features of his face to get a read on him. 
“What do you mean?” You laughed softly.
 “I just… don’t feel…” he trailed off. 
“Yeah?” You managed to utter past the knot in your throat.
He stepped closer to you, his gentle hand tapped under your chin in what you think was an attempt to comfort you, and opened his mouth to finally get the moment over with, but he shut it faster than you’d like. 
“Dean, what’s-” 
“I don’t feel hot… anymore,” he blurted out under his breath. 
It was like a cold bath, icy water that killed the fire of both your anxiety and your arousal. You frowned hard, feeling deeply troubled and somewhat hurt by his admission. 
“Oh…” you whispered. You watched him bite his lip and longed to be the one who sank your teeth against the plushness of them. You had no idea what to say to him, to comfort him, or even to change his mind about it. You never really considered that he felt that way about himself and part of you wondered when or why he began having those feelings. 
“Let’s just go.” He attempted to take the things you were holding, but you felt more confident now about what you were planning. Have you failed as his girlfriend? You were more than happy to prove him wrong by going through with your dirty plan. 
“No,” you asserted, “I don’t know when you started feeling that way, but I don’t agree.” 
“Let’s… not do this here,” he said quietly, his hand slid up to your elbow. A small group of people entered the store, the bell above the door announced their arrival, and you huffed petulantly. He pulled you closer and you felt agitated—by his words—and wondered how you were even going to play your game out without making him uncomfortable.
“Fine, but we are buying these.” You plucked the toy from his hands and turned away to pay for them yourself before he could argue against it. 
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The car-ride back home was tense and awkward.
You were horny, upset, troubled, and deep in thought. 
Your eyes occasionally drifted over to where Dean sat, his hands wrapped lazily around the steering wheel, legs slightly parted—relaxed. He was deep in thought himself, you could tell by the way he bit his lip and occasionally tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.  
You could feel your frown deepening the longer you stared at him and the deeper you fell into the black hole of your thoughts, the more troubled you felt. 
How could he not feel hot when you currently wanted to jump his bones and he wasn’t even trying to be sexy? But that was just you. And you had no idea how to comfort him. Or what to say. Just in general, you didn’t know what to do. Would he believe a word you said? Just because you felt it, doesn’t mean he did, too. And that was clear from the way he expressed he felt unattractive, despite the way you were clearly more than pleased to even lay your eyes on him.
He was so beautiful.
For the most part, in the past, you did feel slightly insecure. So you understood how he felt now. But once you started dating, your insecurity went down significantly. And now that the two of you were married, you didn’t doubt for a second that he thought you were beautiful. 
Nearly every morning, it was normal for you to express how displeased you were to see him walk out the door for work or having to walk out earlier than him to work yourself. How could it be that he somehow felt not hot when you shamelessly drooled over him in a t-shirt and sweats? You worshipped the ground he walked on and more than loved to be at his mercy. 
You hoped at least what happened last night would prove something to him. If the way he had you on your knees, barely allowing you to touch yourself as you took his cock down your throat meant anything to him. Or if the way he made you beg and cry for him to let you orgasm after teasing you with his tongue, fingers, and cock proved anything. You hoped the memory of all of that proved him wrong, basically. 
He was all you could think about, always.
Now, your mind was filled with ideas of what you’d do to watch him beg and whimper for you, too. To make him get grabby and rough with you from how much you teased him. To make him delirious by keeping him from his orgasm. To tease him with slow strokes of your hands, your mouth, or your pussy, whatever would make him pound you into the mattress until you came too many times to speak or think coherently. 
You wanted to feel him all over your body. You wanted to feel his warm cum inside you. To see the bruises of his fingertips on your hips. To feel the sensitivity and puffiness of your nipples from his mouth. To feel raw and tender and wet between your legs from whatever he decided to use to please you. To feel the soreness in your muscles of having been fucked.
You wanted to see the fierce possessiveness in his green eyes. To kiss the red blush on his freckled cheeks. To hear the arousing sounds of his pleasure rumbling deeply through his chest. To watch the mind-numbing pleasure contort his beautiful face. To see and feel the way his body became taut and tense as it moved with yours. 
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 
“What?” It was when you turned to look at him that you felt your thighs relax slightly. They were slick with your arousal and you were only half-ashamed about it. You felt hotter than you already were and shifted your hips shamelessly, only to feel the Impala’s air-conditioning cool the wetness of your neediness against your cunt. Your eyes fell to his hand as it wrapped around your thigh, his fingers squeezed the sides and you instantly imagined him doing it to your neck. You felt a rapid jolt of pleasure on your clit and pressed your lips together as you caught yourself imagining the look on his face if he dared to sneak his fingers higher to feel the dampness of your arousal against your inner thighs. You attempted to remain composed. “I’m fine,” you smiled, then bit your lip to save yourself from smiling too much or not enough.
He looked at you for a few moments and your heart only began to beat faster with each passing second. Dean turned slightly to face you and you realised that you were home when you caught a glimpse of your neighbour’s lemon tree out of the corner of your eye.
What you’d give to ask Dean to steal some off the branches that hung over on your side of the yard. Just to watch his shirt ride up, to reveal his sun-kissed skin, with his sweats hanging low on his hips, his arms flexing to reach the juiciest and perfect lemons for you-
“You’re not mad are you?” Dean’s hand slid up your thigh to grasp your hip and you held your breath—hoping he’d pull you into his lap. 
“What? Of course not!” You breathed out when he squeezed gently, awaiting your response. He sighed softly in relief and smiled, his hand moved away and you frowned at the loss of his touch. “I’m… horny,” you admitted bravely and watched his eyes widen and his face turn red.
“Really?” He chuckled breathlessly. He suddenly looked more confident and relaxed. He leaned forward, brushed your hair off your shoulder with his hand, and let his nose tease your jaw as the scent of your flowery perfume made his brain foggy. 
You shivered and knew you were already too far gone to play any games with him. You felt his lips ghost against your neck, one of his hands held your elbow, and his other hand moved your hair out of the way on the other side of your face. You somehow felt wetter than before and unbuckled your seatbelt to climb into his lap.
Dean’s laugh died down to a moan when you kissed him and his hands found your waist on instinct. “I really need you to fuck me,” you breathed against his parted lips. 
He had the audacity to smirk at you and brought his hands back up to your face to kiss you again instead. He was gentler, slower than you could handle at the moment. His thumb brushed against your warm cheekbone and his fingers tangled in your hair and you wished he would pull on it—hard—as he made you ride his cock. 
You whined against his mouth, so he shut you up with his tongue sliding in between your lips to meet yours. Your arousal felt uncomfortable between your legs and your skin began to heat up even more the harder your heart pounded in your chest. You ached for him. Your body ached for him. You wanted to feel him where he’d been a million times before and your body tingled excitedly at the thought of his touch. 
You moved his hand from your face and guided it between your bodies so he could feel just how desperate and serious you were about your request. He continued to kiss you, allowing you to guide him. Your lips tingled with endless desire and he soothed your need by sucking on your lip and nibbling possessively on your reddened flesh. He gasped against your mouth and nearly choked on his whimper when his fingertips grazed your lace panties, now completely soaked in your wetness.
You pulled away slightly to catch your breath and he pushed your underwear to the side to feel your slippery folds and entrance. It was embarrassingly easy the way he slipped two of his thick fingers into your. He moaned appreciatively when you panted hard against his flushed cheek and he squirmed, biting hard on his lip.
You began to undulate your hips when he perfectly curled his fingers against your walls and thumbed at your swollen clit, keeping your wet folds spread apart with his index and pinky finger. “Make me finish, Dean. Fuck, I need to cum so bad,” you begged shamelessly, practically fucking yourself on his fingers, in his car, in broad daylight, of all things.
On any other occasion, you’d be utterly ashamed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to end the pleasure of finally having Dean’s touch right where you needed him. He was so good at making you feel hot and bothered, and you were so ready and wet, you could even hear the abundance of your arousal with every movement of your hips. 
You released his wrist and sneaked your hand into his sweats, tried to find the waistband of his underwear, but instead you felt his hardened length ready against your fingers. You inhaled sharply, felt the way your pussy pulsed excitedly around his fingers, and brushed your own lower to feel the already-smeared precum on the tip of his cock. 
“Oh… fuck,” Dean murmured, wavering before his fingers slipped out of you, “not here.” 
You expressed your complaint with an irritated moan, but removed your hand from inside his pants despite feeling only minimally motivated to obey him. “You’re not wearing anything underneath… And I’m somehow supposed to contain myself?” 
His laugh was breathy and quiet against your mouth. “I don’t remember this being what you wore under your dress,” he attempted to change the subject with his accusatory tone. He bit his lip, gazing at you through those beautiful lashes of his when you forced yourself away from him. He wasn’t fully capable of hiding the mischief in his green eyes and you inhaled deeply, smiling, hoping to resist the urge to ask again for him to claim you in his car.
“I think we are both equally surprised at what we’ve found beneath each other’s clothes.” 
Dean’s playful grin was followed by laughter he couldn’t contain, a glorious sound that made the millions of dormant butterflies scatter in your stomach. You exhaled shakily and admired him, before making the wise choice of taking the bag containing your new merchandise before escaping the warmth of his car.
Dean called your name happily, but you ignored him when you heard the sexy rumble of his engine die. You stole the key from the pot containing yellow daffodils as the Impala’s door creaked shut with that same sound that brought hope to you whenever he came back home to you again. 
-> mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix
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gilverrwrites · 8 days ago
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would love to hear more of ur thoughts of jason... ANY jason thoughts, virgin, getting pegged, dom, on top on bottom, angry, emotional, loving, clingy...
any jason thoughts are appreciate tenfold pls i love the way you write its so sensual and enjoyable (//ω//)
Virgin!Jason/Sex Worker!Reader, 1.9K Words Why thank you anon, you're too kind. It’s funny you sent this in because I have been thinking about Jason a lot recently. Bit of a an odd one actually, I’ve been thinking about how easily he could get hooked on OFs or something similar. Stay with me here...
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‘Jason loves cars, and girls, and getting into fights…’
The problem is, ever since he came back, he doesn’t know how to talk to or act around women.
Think about it. He was a teenage boy when he died, still going through puberty, never truly finding closure on all those changes. Now he’s a man.
A man with emotions, and desires, and urges that he doesn’t understand and has no idea how to satiate. The not knowing makes him nervous, angry even.
The first and only time Roy tried the “Have you met Jay?” line it was painful. Like giving water to a hydrophobe. Dying of thirst, wanting it so bad, but his hands are shaking, he can barely even make eye contact, let alone hold a conversation. Or touch her. Man, he wanted to touch her, she had such a pretty smile and glowing skin and the most brilliant laugh. He wound up muttering a ‘sorry, bye.’ To the floor and walking out. When Roy finally caught up, he got one hell of an earful. Yelling was all Jay could do not to start throwing punches he'd regret later. Roy had only had the best of intentions after all.
It was Dick who’d mentioned that the posters of half-naked women splayed across car bonnets or dowsed in lite beer might be a bit distasteful. He’d wanted to argue, if they’re bad, why do they sell them? But he was smarter than that really, and Dick was right, if he ever did bring a girl home, he wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Though the mattress without a bed frame and the lack of amenities might do that anyway. Regardless, he takes them down and throws them out along with a stack of vintage Playboys from his youth. He’ll rely on the words of D. H. Lawrence, Cleland and the likes for that sort of thing.
And just reading works, for a while. But there are itches books just can’t scratch, and like hell is he mortified himself trying to talk to women in public again. He’d almost gotten up the courage once since the debacle with Roy.
At the library, looking for classics and checking out their damaged clearance sale. He’d noticed her the moment he’d entered, such a sweet, sharp woman, teaching seniors how to use computers. He’d lingered for a while, until the class was over, determined to make small talk with her while getting his books checked out, but then he remembered what he was checking out. Immediately he was flooded with doubt. She'd think he was a perv. He put his books on the put-back trolly and left without a word.
That same night, feeling sorry for himself is when he falls down the rabbit hole of social media. Scrolling endlessly through post after post of girls on Instagram. His own page consisted of only a faceless gym selfie and the engine of a bike he’d been restoring, but he followed a lot of accounts. Book reviewers, muscle car enthusiasts, musicians. It wasn’t purely coincidental that most of those content creators were women.
His heart jumps out of his chest when he gets a notification, that doesn’t happen often, and usually it’s from Dick sending him funny dog videos, or Steph tagging him memes but this one is a ‘follow back’.
He’d been following you for a while, liking all your posts and occasionally commenting. Nothing flirty, he didn’t wanna seem like one of those creeps saying gross, inappropriate shit, but that often resulted in him sounding lame for praising the high amount of protein in your home-cooked meal, or something else mundane. Today he’s pointed out how nice the clouds in the back of your group selfie looked but apparently that was enough to get your attention.
You like his two photos and drop him a message. “Hadn’t noticed but you’re right. Those clouds were very pretty.”
‘Not as pretty as you.’ He types out then quickly deletes it. You were very pretty, exactly the kind of girl he would choke up around. You didn't have a lot of followers, and your posts weren't really curated to a theme or gimmick. You just documented your life. For some reason though Jason had been drawn to you ever since your smiling face had popped up in his recommended following.
Instead replies with a very creative “Yeah”
“Sorry, hope I’m not bothering you. You just seem cool.”
“You’re not bothering me.” He answers instantly, not wanting to put you off but unsure what to say.
“Good! If you’re ever feeling chatty, hmu 😊”
Easier said than done, but he massively appreciates the offer. He just doesn’t know how to take you up on it. Looking for inspiration he looks at your account again, noticing a link in your bio that he’s sure hadn’t been there when he’d first followed you. He does a spit take when it leads him to an OF page. No, that definitely was not there before.
Now he’s even more unsure what to do. Would it be weird for him to subscribe after you’d just spoken to him? Or was that what you wanted? Surely you put it there because you want subscribers, right? Should he ask you or would that make it more awkward? Why is taking down drug lords and killer clowns less scary and confusing than this?
He stews on the conundrum for a while, but eventually, he takes the plunge, signing up with the same username as his Instagram, irlgothamzombie. He could spend all night looking at your posts, and he does. Judging by your post history, and low interactions, you’ve not been doing this long, but he circles through the same handful of posts over and over, keeping his own hands full throughout. wink wink.    
He can’t get enough of looking at your body, squeezed into little costumes, draped in colourful lingerie, naked and stark against your bedspread. There’s one video in particular he can’t get enough of though, it’s you in a lacy green slip, giggling as you play with the hem, teasing the camera with a cheeky glint in your eye but never really showing anything. He plays it over and over again, fisting his cock as he images it’s his hands sneaking up your thighs, making you laugh over and over until he cums into his hand.
Even though the caption is specifically asking him your followers what type of content they’d like to see you make while in that outfit, he only comments “nice wallpaper” and logs out, cheeks burning with shame as he cleans up.
It’s a few days before he works up the nerve to log back in. He’s still high on adrenaline after a face-off with Black Mask. Feeling bold and looking for release, it’s the first thing he does when he gets home but seeing two notifications from you is like having a bucket of ice water thrown at him.
You’d replied to his comment, “😂Hadn’t noticed but you’re right.”
When he hadn’t said anything else you’d sent him another DM. “Losing interest, or are you just the shy type?”
“The ‘you’re so hot I don’t know how to talk to you type.’” He’d read through the other comments you’d gotten, that felt tame. A little out of his comfort zone, but safe enough to press send.
“That’s actually so sweet.” You get back to him quickly, sending multiple messages at once. Hopefully that means you’re glad to hear from him. “You can talk to me however you like.”
“You never said what you wanted to see me do?”
“If you’re comfy answering.”
Shitshitshit. His throat is painfully dry as he thinks up a response. “idk but I like it on.”
“green is my favorite color.”
“looks good on you”
“Do you want to see me fuck myself while wearing it?” The question is accompanied by a racy picture of you wearing the slip in reference that you hadn’t posted anywhere else.
YES! “yeah”
“Should I use my hands, or something naughtier?”
“whatever you like best” it probably seems like such a cop-out answer but he means it. “want you to enjoy it as much as I will”
“Can’t tell if you’re my nicest subscriber or not, but I got you, sweet stuff 😉”
The next day you upload the results, and he watches it straight away, not that he’d been waiting for it or anything. He’s already half-hard when he hits the play button. Then you say “This one’s specifically for you irlgothamzombie” straight into the camera with a wink and he can’t get his dick out of his pants fast enough.
He tries to take it slow, wanting to enjoy the whole video but that’s easier said than done. He’s leaking pre-cum minutes into watching as you run your hands along your body, dipping your fingers between your legs, over your covered nipples but never revealing anything.
His resolve wavers when you start to rub yourself through the fabric, cooing and moaning as you build friction. He bites his lip so hard to ground himself that it starts to bleed.
Then you bring out the big guns, he doesn’t know what it’s called, but it’s some kind of toy. Long, with a round head that you hold to your clit and fuck, do you enjoy it. You’re practically drooling as you buck your hips and roll your eyes back. Your orgasm is loud and wet, and he almost breaks until he realises there are still a few minutes left.
You keep going, so he does too. Holding out until the very end. Is it possible that sex could feel better than this? Wild.
He messages you first this time.
He buys the green slip and the matching thong, still dirty after you’d cum all over them. Under the bawdy smell of sex he can just make scent of your perfume. It's intoxicating. Maybe he should ask you what brand it is so he can get a bottle and spray it all over his apartment.
He spends all day in bed, clutching the delicate lace to his chest and sucking on the underwear until his dick aches and he physically can’t cum again without hurting himself.
He isn’t sure how he feels about your return PO Box being in Blüdhaven. It's exciting and terrifying to think that you're real, and out in the world, within driving distance even. He could just bump into you one day. He could probably track you down if he wanted to but he kind of likes the comfort of you being behind a screen.
Eventually, he buys every service you offer, custom videos, a dick rating, your private Snapchat, and he practically purges your wish list. Not just the sexy stuff, but the gift cards, the clothes, the collectables, anything you want.
With every purchase you send him your thanks, ask him about his day, his interests both sexual and in general. You offer him services for free or heavily discounted, expressions of your gratitude for all he’s done but he always declines.
A part of him believes that you’d still talk to him if he stopped financing you, you're practically two steps away from asking for it outright, and he knows that. But the money is like a safety net. Like his helmet; a barrier between him and heartbreaking humiliation. As long as he keeps doling out the cash, he’ll never have to know if you’d reject him without it.
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dadsbongos · 5 months ago
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do u think u could write some of ur own personal headcanons for laios? i love the way u write him, it seems almost canon!
anon you dont know what fire youre messing with
also thank yew hehe :>
general headcanons:
Laios likes babysitting but does NOT want to be a real papa, he adores the idea of being the Cool And Strange Uncle but just imagining having to raise a whole person from scratch terrifies him
Usually conks out as soon as his head hits the pillow and he’s a damn heavy sleeper, he strikes me as someone that gets the dad snore when he’s a bit older
Likes doing physical activity in the moment, maintaining his stamina/strength n whatnot. But HAAATES the aftermath, he will not stop bitching about how gross he feels when sweaty
People scare him but I think men specifically scare him more than women because he mainly associates “men” with his old boarding school and military peers and his dad. Meanwhile the most callous woman he’s personally dealt with is like. his mom… who wasn’t particularly menacing and he doesn’t seem to resent her as much as he does his father
Most definitely called Chilchuck “chil” in their early days together and got his nuts sacked for the unintentional disrespect
Doesn’t drink often because the taste bugs him but when he does decide to, he drinks to get drunk. So it has to be a special occasion
The type of older brother to tell Falin food fills up your body from your feet to your head and when you’re full to your head you die
modern headcanons:
Definitely the type to unironically use little emoticons like :) or :] but his favorites are the cute ones like :3 , ^.^ , and :0
Would’ve played barbies with Falin as a kid and enjoyed it more than Falin did lol
If he were out with the group (marcille would have to threaten his life though, he would HATE “going out”) and Marcille or Falin deferred to him to deal with creepy men he’d feel like a superhero about it
Borderline mandated to have a high impact phone case by Falin because he’s GOT to be dropping that shit all the time. I just know it (projecting)
Would probably dislike resident evil as a series but thinks the premises are cool
Bouncing off that: he’s a big Undertale and Deltarune fan (definitely had a thing for Toriel at some point and probably thought sans was kind of overrated). Has ambivalent feelings towards fear & hunger, likes the atmosphere and item preservation and monsters but the assault scenes and overt brutalism ick him out from recommending it
Would go his whole life without an autism diagnosis until eventually held at metaphorical gunpoint by his friends, just for his parents to go “oh yeah we had you tested as a kid but didn’t want you using it as a crutch”
If monsters weren’t real he’d be cryptid autistic just so everyone’s on the same page
Cryptids major and ocean creatures minor type autism
I don’t think he’s straight by any measure but before he has the Realization, he’s the epitome of the girls gays and coleman meme
Segue omg: he has no desire to think more about his sexuality or gender than “i feel x” or “i choose y”. I think he identifies as Man(TM) but in a “its harder to explain i want to be a bog” way. If you referred to him with feminine pronouns or called him “girl” he seriously wouldn’t give a shit 
nsfw(?) headcanons:
Could never do casual, you would have to be committed or only know each other VERY distantly and only do it once. His ass wouldn’t know how to read your relationship if you were trying to do friends with benefits (he’s also very concerned with hurting people’s feelings so just the notion of accidentally doing that to someone he’s intimate with would kill him)
May seem strange coming from a bitch always talkin about fucking him, but I think Laios would actually have kind of a lower sex drive. Like he maybe doesn’t get needy very often but also isn’t NOT in the mood, so if you proposition him and he’s into you he’ll be like “okie :3”
That being said, when he does feel needy he’s NEEDY. It’s debilitating, he genuinely can’t do or think of anything else until his poor wee is taken care of :( poor guy aww
I can see him being a virgin until his early-mid 20s and having no shame about it (good for him go king, virginity is nothing to be ashamed of it literally doesn’t matter)
Also by virgin i mean rice purity test score of like 97
Swears he doesn’t like having his cock worshipped (says its weird and embarrassing) but he’s so flustered n drooly and babbles the whole time
Biter 
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porcelian · 2 months ago
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TOUNGE TIED
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PAIRING: jason todd ✗ reader ;
SYNOPSIS: hidden away in a library, you bask in seeing that pink hue on jason's cheeks ;
ANON ASKED: " Reader teasing Jason over his blushing. You can decide whether they're in an established or pre-established relationship. " ;
WORD COUNT: 0.9k ;
NOTES: took a while to get this request done, not because the writing took some time, it was just because this is my first ever time getting actual requests, so i am all over the place with this. in this work reader and jason aren't in a relationship yet. thank you anon for the request <3 cross posted on my AO3.
♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.
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A SUBTLE TINGLING OF THE BELL SHIMMERED IN THE AIR. The old smell of book pages spreads through the small library. Its rusty brick outside, snuggled between two towering buildings, had caught Jason's eye during patrol a few days ago.
He contemplated asking you if you'd like to visit the little, small haven he had found. Every time the thought crossed his mind, a warm feeling spread through his body; his cheeks felt hot and his hands shaky.
Weird, but now that doesn't matter.
What matters is that somehow you both were in the doorway of the said library.
Your eyes darted around the room laid in front of you, curiosity obvious in your gaze. The library had truly had a homey, cozy feeling to it. Your hand grazed Jason's as you pointed out a decoration on the wall next to the two of you, though Jason's mind was preoccupied by the small touch of your hand on his.
Was it silly, he thought, that even a single graze had him tripping over his words?
The same warmth spreads through him now as it did then when he thought of ways to bring you here; what do I say to them? Should I label this as a date? Or is that too soon?
He remembers mentioning the small library when you piped up and suggested both of you visited the place.
“C’mon, Jaybeans! It’ll be fun. You and me.” You and me.
You took the words out of his mouth, literally. Answer, goddamn it!
“Yes!” he says, a bit too loud. You tilt your head, a smirk appearing on your face.
Oh, he wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face. With a kiss, preferably. You'd have a field day teasing him for that as well. He can’t really seem to mind; a kiss from you seems worth it.
He's forced to snap out of his daydream when he hears your melodic voice ring out in his ears.
“Earth to Jason,” you quip, not before raising a brow, “what's got you all quiet? You seem nervous.”
Goddamn you and how well you know him and his tells.
“Nothing,” he stammers as he answers, “now, let's go in.”
The warmth of the library makes both of you feel the unforgiving cold of the Gotham weather. The freezing hands hidden in pockets slowly peeking out, faces hiding under scarves poking out.
More accurately, his face pokes out from the scarf wrapped around him. Your scarf, he should add on that.
He almost stopped dead in his tracks when you turned to him and wrapped the fluffy, crocheted by hand scarf around him.
You scolded him about dressing appropriately for the weather. He should have been listening; god knows he hangs onto every word you say, but at that moment every sound was lost on him.
The saccharine-intoxicating smell of the fabric engulfed him wholly.
You eyed him a moment then, eyes squinting as if taking every detail of him, before you muttered just for him to hear.
“It looks good on you.”
Jason feels his cheeks grow hot—too hot, his palms grow sweaty. God, when did it get so hot?
The last thing he remembers seeing is your face breaking into a proud smile.
He hopes you won't ask for the scarf back, he thinks as he gathers both of your coats to set on the rack.
The book shelves fill the entire library so much that there's barely any space for the two of you. You don't seem to mind, he notes, as you drag him down the shelves, bodies close.
He runs his hand through his hair nervously, black and white steaks getting caught between his fingers. He has styled it. Did you notice, he thinks? Does he want you to notice?
Yes, he concludes, he does.
“Hm,” you hum, “I’ve been planning on reading Emma since you mentioned it.” You remembered that? He thinks as you look through the books to find your desired one.
‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’
He remembers that single quote; it rings over in his mind repeatedly.
Get it together, Jason, he scolds himself.
“It has ‘the I-am-going-to-scoop-my-heart-out-with-a-spoon level romance of Pride & Prejudice’” he muses.
“It better not be like Mansfield Park,” you puff. “Jane, I'm not mad; I’m just disappointed.”
His laugh slipped out, low and warm. You take in the sight in front of you: his laugh; his smile, his eyes smiling alongside with it; the scrunching of his nose.
It’s truly a heavenly sight.
Oh, only if you could tell him.
“You should laugh more,” you simply say. It’ll do for now; it’ll do until he gives you the okay, the okay to tell him all of it.
You'll bask in his blushes and stutters as he tries to gather his thoughts.
“What?”
“You should laugh more,” you contemplate for a second, “and blush more.”
“You—” he huffs, “just get the book.” He tries to turn his head away from you, though the red on the tip of his ears is telling you all you need to know.
You'll wait; he'll wait as well.
Because all of this is worth the wait.
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© ROBINSFILM ﹕ 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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imababblekat · 3 months ago
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Bayverse TmnT X Reader; Jealousy HC's
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Anon Request, "Hello, I'm your fan, how are you? Can I ask what the Tmnt's reaction would be to seeing that the girl they like is the best friend of one of their brothers? and see that they have a lot of fun together. How would you handle jealousy and insecurity? Could you talk to her about how you feel about it? (PS: the girl is also in love with him). 💙❤💜🧡Greetings from Buenos Aires! I am writing to you with the translator. Notice in case I have any spelling errors.🥲🥲🥲"
A/N: Oh! Well hello! Thank you very much; I hope you enjoy the request ^-^
~xXx~
-Regardless of which brother has a crush on their friend, they all truly appreciate that the person of their interest gets along well with their brother/s.
-Which makes their feelings of jealousy and/or insecurity very conflicting, and each handle it differently.
-that being said. . .
Leonardo:
Leo’s probably the most relieved that his crush gets on with his family, their safety always his top priority, but at the same time he can’t help but feel that he’s lacking something with how close they seem to be versus with him
Such as he wishes that he could be more of a social butterfly like Mikey, scientifically wise in the way Donnie is, or even more of a fun risk taker like Raph
Leonardo thinks that his role as leader makes him come off as some sort of serious kill joy to his interest, and it truly does bum him out, wishing that he could step out of his introverted shell and not be so stiff around them
It would take a deep talk with Master Splinter for Leo to take the chance to talk things out with his crush, his father’s statement replaying out in his mind that he sees the whole story from his point of view rather than a few sentences on the page his son is so tunnel versioned on
Raphael:
Raph won’t ever say it aloud but he appreciates the bond his crush and brother/s have; till he realizes he’s caught feelings for them
Absolutely the most conflicted about the situation and is also the one who comes off as the most jealous, though everyone thinks he’s just being more of an ass than usual
In reality he’s masking over his deep rooted insecurities
He sure as hell isn’t wise and all mystic like Leo, or a magnet of hospitality like Mikey, and there’s a reason he’s the brawns of the team while Donnie is the brains
Raphael hates the notion that he’s intimidating to his interest; he already felt like a freak to begin with, but to feel like the non desirable one amongst his brothers is a new low he didn’t know was possible
Takes a miracle and a half to get him to speak his mind to his crush, meanwhile everyone around them is dying because of the obvious pinning from both idiots in love
Donatello:
Donnie finds comfort in the fact that the groups friend gets along so well with his brother/s, which is why it’s so frustrating to him that he also somehow really hates it
It was never an issue before and he quickly comes to the conclusion that its because he’s formed a crush on the groups friend
Tries to reason with himself that the feeling will pass but when it doesn’t is when it really starts to become a problem
Just because Donnie is the most intellectual member of the group, doesn’t mean he’s immune to in-depth emotions and is very quickly drowned in envious insecurities
Things like why can’t he be cool and collected like Leo, or as whimsy as Mikey, or as impressively strong like Raphael
He only ever even thinks about saying something to his crush after Leo has a talk with him on why he shut himself in his lab for a week while unintentionally giving his crush the cold shoulder; Leo’s statement that they were very concerned they did something wrong being what pushes Donnie because despite his overwhelming emotions he can’t sleep with the fact he made them feel so hurt
Michelangelo:
Mikey absolute adores that closeness of his brother/s and crush! Mans just keeps collecting a bigger family!
Which is why he doesn’t particularly hold anything against his bother/s for the attention they get from his crush, but more so gets too deep in his head about himself
Mikey knows he can be a lot, that he can be annoying and loud and forget others personal space
With his brothers, he’s used to it, knowing they never truly mean anything negative they say to him, and while his crush hasn’t ever said anything horrid to him, there must be some reason they spend all their time with his brother/s versus with him
Turns out it is because he’s lot, but not in the way he thinks!
It’s Raph who talks some sense into Mikey, the former being the first to notice something really bothering the youngest, and despite making a promise to their friend not to say anything, Raph admits to Mikey the reason behind his crushes apparent avoidance
It’s because they actually have the biggest crush on him as well, but unlike Mikey in all of his excitable nature, they’re much more shy and reserved
The news absolutely breaks Mikey in the best of ways, dude is on cloud nine and trying his hardest to resist running out into the lair to grab his crush into twirling hug
~xXx~
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leqonsluv3r · 9 months ago
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hii could you do some headcanons abt re4 leon dating a coquette reader? i loved your abt re2 leon but got me thinking how would re4 be <3
bf!leon kennedy
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—re4!leon kennedy x soft!croquette reader, a headcanon list
masterlist taglist
an: the brainrot is real, it’s like ur reading my mind anon <33 thank you :,)
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bf!leon kennedy who will spend hours after getting back from a mission just laying in your pink frilly sheets, hundreds of stuffed animals around. he doesn’t even care. the sheets smell like you and it’s a welcomed reprieve after being back from spain
bf!leon kennedy who helps you reach things on the top shelf of your shared apartment because you can’t reach. no matter how much he loves seeing you try to wiggle and grasp for something despite your short height.
bf!leon kennedy who keeps one hand on your thigh and the other on the wheel when he drives. you insist on driving but he refuses, he loves driving you around. his attention split between you and the road.
bf!leon kennedy spending almost all of his hard earned government paycheck just so you can have anything your heart desires. pretty pink dresses, ribbons, clothes, perfumes and books. anything that makes you happy makes him happy.
bf!leon kennedy teasing you for your endless supply of stuffed animals and books. saying you act like a doll or a child. even though he secretly loves how deep your love for the stuffed things goes.
bf!leon kennedy who hates pink but it’s slowly learning to love it as you guys live together. the pink and white things seem to overrule his heart and his hatred. seeing how much you love it, makes his heart melt. even if he hates pink sheets, he’ll sleep in them, make love to you in them and cuddle you in them, if that’s what you want.
bf!leon kennedy letting you kiss and smooch all over his face with your expensive lipstick. he doesn’t mind, not if your way of claiming him is kisses in different kinds of lipsticks and shades. not when you get all giggly when you finish and he returns the favor in a different way.
bf!leon kennedy who nibbles on your neck and jaw, getting you all worked up and getting you back for the markings of lipstick all over his face and neck. he marks you in his own way, pretty hickeys that will fade onto your skin once he’s finished.
bf!leon kennedy watching you the next day as you dab concealer and foundation onto the hickeys, sending him a glare over your shoulder. he has no shame, he doesn’t even care. just marking what’s his the same way you did with your silly lipstick.
bf!leon kennedy letting you tie one of your ribbons around his bicep, doing it loosely on each one. pretty pink just as he suspected. he knows what your doing, the way your gaze eats up the ribbons loosely tied around the muscles of his arms.
bf!leon kennedy flexing his muscles on his biceps as the ribbons come untied and drop to the floor of your guys shared bedroom. you eat it up and keep making him do it until your practically drooling all over your pink frilly comforter that your kneeling on.
bf!leon kennedy who teases your stupid ribbons but has fun tying your wrists to the headboard with them, devouring your body with his lips and hands until your whining and begging for release.
bf!leon kennedy grabbing onto you from behind when your doing something in the kitchen or in your guys apartment. pressing kisses to your neck that make you blush and giggle. he will never get tired of your laugh or the little noises you make.
bf!leon kennedy who watches you devour a romance novel on the couch next to him, making noises when something happens in the book, your attention not on him for once. he’s jealous of fictional characters bound in the pages of a book, figures.
bf!leon kennedy who will gladly take you out, let you dress up and get pretty for him. he loves seeing you all made up in whatever you choose, your hair all pretty and styled. and lipstick that he has no doubt will get ruined later.
bf!leon kennedy letting you take your time eating and sipping on your drink. your hand rubbing on his knee absentmindedly having no idea what your doing to him with that innocent little touch under the dinner table of the restaurant. 
bf!leon kennedy who waits until your back at your guys apartment before devouring your lips, smudging your lipstick and running his hands into your hair. he’ll untangle the ribbon and run his hands through your styled hair, making it messy. just because he can.
bf!leon kennedy who fucks you like his life depends on it, he knows you can take it. always the good girl for him. he will press kisses to your lips, your legs over his shoulders as his hips slap against yours, making the prettiest sounds slip from your lips.
bf!leon kennedy who is big on aftercare, wiping the insides of your thighs and rubbing soothing circles on the length of your spine as you relax against him beneath the pink sheets of your guys bed. pressing kisses to your hairline and showering you with praise and affection.
bf!leon kennedy who tells you he loves you every single day. doesn’t ever not tell you, he doesn’t have it in him. one look with those eyes of yours and he’s a puddle of a man, confessing his love for you.
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an: u guys know the drill <33 reblog, like and my asks are open. you can find all my other shit in the masterlist linked at the beginning and my asks are open!! i’ll be posting a one shot soon, promise. i love you guys <33 kisses xx.
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lamiadrowned · 8 days ago
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hi queen! i love ur page and i have a request! could you do headcannons for vi with an extremely honest yet clueless reader, i feel like that’d be so funny like “jinx is no longer my sister” “uhhh yes she is??” anyway that’s it, thank you !! <33
*:・゚✧ vi with a (slightly) airheaded girlfriend
violet x fem!reader | sfw
this is a hilarious request ugh thank you anon
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first of all, she finds you so funny. especially when you aren’t trying to be.
it always leaves you stumped when you’re trying to actually correct her on something, and she just bursts out laughing like you told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.
the biggest arguments you’ve gotten into with her happen when you incorrectly correct her grammar or use of a phrase, but neither of you really have a good enough education to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, so most of your spats remain unresolved.
after all, two people who need to be right all the time are bound to bicker.
a lot of your ‘arguments’ don’t contain much bickering, though.
they’re mostly just a back-and-forth dialogue that devolves into mutual confusion and total disarray. as hardheaded as she can be, she’s also the first to admit that she doesn’t know as much as she might have thought.
you’re like her own personal fact checker! (but the facts have no backing and she just has to kind of choose whether or not to believe you).
“any updates on your sister?” you’d ask her after another long day of your respective work pertaining to jinx.
she’d spent most of the day scouring the streets of zaun for any sign of her, while you stayed in your apartment trying to piece together documents and records to track her down.
vi takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair at the dining table, which is covered in papers and blurry pictures. “as far as i’m concerned, she sure as hell isn’t my sister.”
“what?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “i mean, you have the same parents. how could she not be your sister?”
she immediately recognizes your tone, knowing she’d accidentally dug herself into a hole with one sentence. “i… i meant it more as a metaphor, i guess. that’s the word, right?”
you stare at her in complete silence, recalling her words and wondering if the metaphor had completely flown over your head. eventually, you shake your head and try to ignore the knowing smile on her face. “i don’t think you know what a metaphor is, hun.”
“hold on, what even is a metaphor, then?” she asks, now seeming to be just as confused as you, that smug grin now replaced with a look of total dubiety.
you lean against the dining table. “a metaphor would be comparing two things that aren’t related.”
“oh. well, there you go. me and jinx aren’t related. it is a metaphor.” she shrugs.
“you are related, though. same parents, remember?” you tilt your head. “something about biology and all that dna shit.”
she positions herself in front of you and cups your jawline with her calloused hands, tilting your head to look up at her. “it’s adorable and aggravating that you take everything so literally, you know that?”
for a moment, you totally forget what the conversation was about, given the fact that just looking into her eyes is enough to turn your brain to mush.
that is, until it finally clicks.
“oh! you’re using a figure of speech,” you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “which is not the same as a metaphor.”
then, she snaps her fingers and points at you with, smile beaming with success. “yeah! yeah, that’s it. a figure of speech. thanks, babe.”
she’s also quick to realize that you do the same to pretty much everyone else, so at the very least, she knows it isn’t targeted.
if anything, it’s free entertainment.
watching proudly as you squabble with a bartender about how a non-alcoholic drink should be called just that, rather than a teetotaler’s drink, because “90% of zaun’s population probably couldn’t pronounce that word, nonetheless know what it means,” simply because you happened to be one of the 90% who could not pronounce it nor define it.
also, she backs you up like her life depends on it, even if she didn’t hear half of the conversation, or generally have no idea what the conversation was about.
after any of your feuds with someone other than her, she’ll make a point to go up to them and respectfully throw down some corny defenses like “the misses is always right, capiche?” or “can’t really argue with that, huh?”
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kkuzushi · 7 months ago
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Haii! Ive read your sub Heizou fic and omg... I kept thinking about scaramouche while reading it. I've also taken a liking to your page! Your writing is soo goodnendksjdnxw sub scaramouche fic when? 🥰🥰🎀🎀
(I feel like in going to interact with your page alot so can I be 🎸 anon? >_<)
“ 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 ”
✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader
✦ 𝗰w: mirror sex (at the end), implied orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, slight choking, cock can be interpreted as strap
✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.02k
✦ 𝗻otes: You’re always welcome to my page, lovely 🎸. This is written especially for you. <3
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It became a routine for Scaramouche to send pictures of himself when wearing different outfits. It was just a time to time update, like you had asked, but he had gotten unexpectedly used to it.
For a man who has impeccable fashion taste, you would always shower him with compliments with every picture he sent—because of that, he saw it as a way to get your attention.
As usual, you received a notification from Scaramouche and it was a mirror shot. The picture was enough to make you smile but what took your attention was the message he sent after it.
"It's been a week, when are you coming over?"
Scaramouche had gotten clingy as well after establishing a relationship.. or maybe there's something he's after.
"My schedule's packed for this week, maybe by the end of the month we get to spend time again."
You replied, which he immediately read. It took a while for him to respond as it turns out, he was preparing another picture for you. Only this time, his shirt was lifted up, his teeth biting on the fabric to expose his stomach.
"How about right now?" He sent with the picture.
You could almost read where he's going along with this but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
After a few back and forth bickering, his pictures and messages had only gotten more and more explicit.
"My bed's missing you."
"Wanna show me what 34+35 is equal to?"
"Something wants to be filled and it's not my expectations."
If only he knew how much you actually wanted to rail him right now. If your schedule wasn't so packed, you'd be having your way with him.
Though who said you can't? It didn't take long for you to arrive at his place, a sight you could never get tired of unfolding right before you.
Scaramouche's nails clawed your back, almost holding for dear life as you mindlessly pounded him to oblivion.
"Wait..! Too full~!!" His grip around you tightened as he squealed with every thrust you give him.
"For someone so teasing, you sure can't take a lot," You commented, grabbing his thighs to push back, spreading it out even more.
Scaramouche's eyes narrowed down at you, biting his lips gently before speaking, "I didn't expect that simple words would provoke you."
His statement made you chuckle before closing the distance between the two of you. His legs spread apart as you pushed your cock all the way inside, resting close to his prostate, making him squirm from the sensation.
"It didn't provoke me, Scara," you cooed to his ear, "It only motivated me."
Before he could respond, you bucked your hips, finally hitting his prostate. Scaramouche's eyes widened as he lets out what could only be described as a scream.
"ngAHh~!! ♡ ♡" His back arched from the sudden thrust to his prostate, a hoarse moan was forced out of him, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.
Your back has been marked to the core by his nails, it was painful yet you enjoyed the feeling—after all, it was the result of having your way with him.
Scaramouche's thighs starts to tremble, his head rolling back as moans after moans stream out of his throat.
Just the way his body reacts to his prostate getting abused turned you on, how could you ever get tired of fucking this man?
"Do I fuck you good, Scaramouche?" You grunted, hands on his waist to keep yourself moving on the same pace. The only answer given to you were mewls, poor Scaramouche can't even think properly as he seems to be seeing stars now.
"aH~ aH!~ goofmgnh~ sho goodddh~!! ♡" A few minutes after your question, Scaramouche starts to ramble, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with every word he says.
His cock was leaking precum, spilling all the way to his thighs. If he wasn't so focused on having your permission, he would've finished since then—but only good boys get that, right?
The sound of skin hitting skin was loud as you fucked Scaramouche harshly yet his moans were still louder than anything else. His pretty body was filled with fresh bitemarks and hickeys, even on places that's exposed easily. Not to worry, he won't be complaining anytime soon.
"fuck..! fuck! mnghah..!" He squealed as he watched your cock disappearing with every thrust you give, almost like his hole was sucking it in. His inner walls tightened, receiving a moan from you, "hagh- g-gonna cum!~ ♡"
His words served as a signal as you swiftly changed his position, turning him around to make him face his bedroom mirror. Scaramouche's eyes widened after realising your intentions.
"N-not like thisfhAHH~♡♡!!" Words were cut once his felt your cock fucking him in a rougher pace. You pinned his hands on his back, your free hand crawling up and wrapping around his neck so tenderly.
"Look at yourself as you cum," You whispered to his ear, your eyes staring at his in the mirror. The way you talked to him didn't help, everything was deliberately turning him on, his back arching further as he felt his body grow weak.
He was close, so close to finishing. Scaramouche knew that if he disobeyed this one last command from you, it's back to square one. His eyes never left the mirror, scanning the way his body gets pounded by you. The sight alone was making him scream in pleasure.
"mngha- cummi— i'm cummingghhaHH~!! ♡♡♡" Scaramouche's eyes rolled back, a long moan flowing out his mouth as his cock squirted cum all over the place, even reaching the mirror.
Once the white fluid stops spilling out of him, his volume decreased. What could only be heard now are heavy pants from him, his chest heaving with every breath he took.
"We're not yet done," his eyes widened once more as he hears you speak down to his nape, "You still have to make me cum, remember?"
Exhaustion has never felt this pleasing, Scaramouche knew he was in for a long night, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
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