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animasolaoriginal · 3 months ago

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN EIGHT NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

In the rare moments where her thoughts aren't hazy, when she isn't fucked out of her mind, she contemplates her situation, questions it, but whatever vile thing he does to her next, she can't help but realize something: she wants it, wants him, wants to please him, badly. And so, she slowly starts to embrace her new role...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Oral sex/deepthroating. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.6k

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

She should hate him.

Fight him, do anything to not let him get away with all those vile things he's doing to her. In the moment she is usually too overwhelmed to do anything but take it, and afterwards she's too relieved it's over, but there are a few clear moments in that undisclosed time between whatever he plans to do to her next, clear enough moments to gather her thoughts, build them up into that burning bundle of hatred and defiance and the will to get away.

It happens when he carries her limp body to the bathroom, when she squeezes her eyes shut and ignores (tries to ignore) his tight grip, the warm hard chest she's pressed against, the way he holds her, protective almost – yeah, ignoring him is very difficult – and so the moment of wanting to hurt him back slips from her too quickly. But it was there, a tiny instant of thinking through the haze inside her head, those few questions that keep haunting her like little bees buzzing inside her skull.

Why are you allowing this? Why are you still here? Why haven't you even tried to get away, run from this place, from his grasp? Why do you lean into him? Why can't you stop thinking about him? Why? Oh for fuck's sake... why?

And the answers usually come whenever he is nice to her afterwards, caresses her soiled skin, wipes away her tears, holds her close and safe in his strong arms. It's the same thought that rolled through her mind whenever she's seen him in the club, when his eyes accidentally met hers through the crowd. That heat that burnt up then, now soars through her like wildfire, erasing any doubts and fears.

Because she likes him.

In a very twisted, definitely unhealthy sort of way. She likes him, wants him, his attention, his caresses, wants to stare at him, be with him, have him do all these things to her (well, the jury is still out on that part, her innocent mind had not been capable of imagining just what he may do to her). And even after all the pain she's endured and is still feeling, she can't keep these needs down, the wants he told her not to have. But strangely enough they align with his wants, or so she thinks.

So he wants to fuck her on the couch and shove his cock down her throat when he comes, sure, she'll take it, because she wants it too, right? He must know that, he wouldn't be doing it otherwise, right? Right?

It's all a mess inside her head, what she wants, what he wants, how those things compare and blend into each other, how his wants become hers, melting together, and the haze grows, and the hatred fades.

In the end she is that small pliant thing in the shower, legs trembling when he pulls her underwear down, when his fingers brush over her heated skin, when she watches him undress, her eyes moving over shifting muscles and tight skin, the dips and bumps of a strong body, so much taller than her, intimidating and enticing at the same time.

And when he moves her under the spray raining down on them, big hands on her small shoulders, she looks up, closes her eyes when the warm water hits her face, head leaning against his chest as he reaches around her and grabs the bar of soap from the little shelf, lathers it between his hands, arms caging her in, before he moves the suds over her skin.

It's these intimate moments that root her to this place of pain and humiliation, of being his (toy) to use whenever he wants. It's warm and comforting, a soft caress after the rough handling, a balance she needs more than air.

His hands move over her chest, soaping her up, cleaning her, calloused palms rubbing over sensitive skin, fingers teasing and brushing, and she feels how much he's holding back, how his cock twitches, pressed into the dip of her lower back with how close and tall he stands behind her, and she savors these moments of his restraint, where he treats her right no matter how bad he wants to do other things to her.

He continues his lathering gently, big hands running down her arms, lifting them, turning them, testing her limits when he dips his fingers into her armpits, but she's too far gone in her mind to be ticklish, focusing on the good things, the warm touches, inhales the steamy air, forces her head to be empty. When his fingers slip between her legs, she lets out a little gasp, then feels his head next to hers as he leans over, cheek pressed against cheek, rough skin rubbing against soft.

One arm wraps around her middle, holding her, while his other hand moves down her mound, fingers gliding through her slit, fingertips teasing her entrance, but then he pushes against her thighs, nudges them apart, and the soap is back to move down her shaking limbs. He even crouches down behind her, holds her hip, moves his hand down to her ankles, rubs his fingers through her toes.

She holds onto his shoulders when he lifts her feet, one after the other, cradles them in his hands, and this time she flinches when he scrapes his nails over the sole of her foot. His soft exhale of a laugh makes her blush, and when he stands up again, he grabs her chin and lifts her head up, staring down at her before capturing her mouth for a soft kiss that turns into a wilder dance of tongues, her body turned around, pulled against his, one big hand fisting her hair, the other grabbing her rear.

Her arms snake around his body, holding onto hard muscles and slick skin as she leans up on her toes to kiss him back properly. These sweet moments... usually end rather abruptly when he changes his mind all of a sudden. This time he pulls her head back, fingers tight around her hair, eyes dark as he stares down at her. She blinks against the water running into her eyes, breathing harder, not sure what to expect, but in the end he lets go of her and pushes the soap into her hands before he turns around and presents his backside to her.

She smiles as she huffs a sigh of relief, then quickly follows the request and lathers his back, rubs the soap between his shoulder blades, down into the slight dip of his spine, to his lower back, around his sides, vehemently ignoring the tight cheeks of his butt. His hands move around to grab hers, and she's forced to pay attention to them after all, but she focuses on the job at hand, quickly rubbing her hands over his warm skin, follows the curves and edges of his body down his strong legs.

As she's crouching behind him, he slowly turns around, and she looks up, eyes immediately jumping to his throbbing erection mere inches away from her face. She swallows hard, and he tilts his head as he watches her. She moves her soapy hands back up the front of his legs, feels the slight shift of his thigh muscles, then hesitates when she reaches his groin. Eyes flicking up to his, she slowly stands up again and brings her hands closer, her heart beating faster.

As soon as her small hands wrap around his length, he puts his own on top of hers, guiding her movements. She bites her lip and looks down, absorbing the way he handles his cock, wanting to learn, wanting to please him more, better...

Those thoughts come and go as well, of putting her own desires to the side and focusing on him and his pleasure. He already takes what he wants, but she's sure she can make him even prouder of her if she puts in the extra effort to do everything the way he likes it best. And it's not (necessarily) to get praised by him, strangely enough, because that would be her own want, it's just to see him satisfied, to see the tension in his body deflating, to see him smile, make him happy.

It may also be the balled-up fear in the pit of her stomach, the fear of making him angry, displeasing him, disappointing him. He's been rough with her before, but that time he's punished her by fucking his cum back into her ass after she's cleaned out the last load, has only been a hint, a little preview of his anger, she knows it. There's so much more darkness within him, more strength, more power, more violence. And she never wants to experience it. It will break her, mentally and physically, she's absolutely sure.

Eventually he guides her hands away from his hard cock, up his chest, over toned muscles, lathering the soap everywhere she's missed before. She watches him, feeling warm and content – which, of course, only lasts so long as he suddenly turns her around, one hand on her lower back as he bends her forwards a little. She stiffens, breathing harder, swallowing her fear.

His other hand moves along the curve of her rear, dips between her cheeks, fingers closing around the base of the plug. He tugs at it, gently, playing with her tense muscles, warms them up, before he pulls it out, and her relief is mixed with shame as she feels thick globs of cum dripping down her legs, washing away in the drain.

She braces herself on the tiled wall as he starts rubbing his hands over her backside, then grabs the shower head and cleans her off, and she flinches when the harder jet of water hits her tense muscles, but he refrains from cleaning her properly.

When he puts the shower head back, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against him, positions them under the rain shower and lets the soft spray rinse the soap off their bodies. She closes her eyes and relaxes, feels his hands on her, warm and comforting. A strange little moment of peace...

And she should have seen it coming. The sudden change in the atmosphere.

His hand is on her shoulder, turning her around, then pushing her down on her knees in front of him, the spray of the water hitting her back as she blinks up at him. Inhaling deeply, she tries to ignore the sting in her knees, the soreness of her whole body slowly creeping back into the forefront of her mind. But she doesn't wallow in her sorrow, there's no use anyway, she can't fight him, no matter how hard she wishes to in moments like these.

He leans over her to turn the water off, and a sudden cold breeze makes her shiver. When he straightens up again, he looks down at her, and she shivers for a completely different reason. Her eyes rake over his naked body (so tall and intimidating), those shifting muscles when he puts his hands on his hips, the tight skin of his chest, strong arms and legs with veins snaking under his skin, the handsome face, the dark, hungry eyes, wet hair pushed back, water drops gathering on his shoulders, running down in thin rivulets.

She shifts on her knees, moves closer, eyes on his straining cock, standing proud against his lower stomach. Between admiring his restraint and being grateful for it, she licks her lips, raises her hands, but then stops, hovering inches away from grabbing him, her eyes moving back up to him.

He hasn't given her any command, not really. He just pushed her to her knees.

She blinks a few stray water drops out of her eyes. “C-can I –” she starts, quiet, her voice still raw from his earlier demands.

He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “Yes? Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice deep, vibrating through the tiled room, sinking into her mind, igniting something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Can I...” she tries again, inhaling deeply. “Can I... s-suck your... your cock?” she asks, voice shaking badly, feeling nervous. As if he would deny her this.

“Can you?”

He's mocking her. Prolonging the humiliation she feels for even asking such a thing. But she remains on her knees, looking up, practically begging him to do this – and there's not a single thought in her mind that finds this very disturbing. It feels natural. He's hard, she's here to take care of that, isn't she? That's her purpose after all.

“May I?” she rephrases, biting her lip, her hands gingerly reaching out to touch his strong thighs. “May I please suck your cock?” The words leave her without revision, they just tumble out of her mouth, while she looks deep into his eyes, focused on him, feeling his skin beneath her palms, and that hot thing in her stomach growls in some sort of need.

He extends a hand and puts it on her head, caresses her wet hair. “Yes, you may,” he says and smiles softly down at her, though there is a glint in his eyes, a hint of the darkness. He keeps his hand on her head, heavy but also strangely comforting, as she shifts on her knees, sits up more, one hand gingerly closing around his hard length before she bends it carefully towards her to bring the tip to her lips.

It's strange to be this gentle with the very thing that brought her so much pain, that stretched and bruised her, punished and deflowered her, choked and soiled her, that, despite everything, felt so good inside her... She closes her eyes and swallows, her lips brushing against his warm skin. His scent, overpowered by the smell of soap, fills her nostrils, his presence fills her head.

He's done so many things to her, with his cock, his hands, his mind, and none of it matters as she kneels in front of him, on her sore knees, fingers closing tighter around his base, as she opens her mouth and closes her lips around his tip, tongue flicking lazily around the spongy flesh, his taste hits her with a force that makes her dizzy.

She wants this. She's asked for it. This is all on her.

His hand moves through her wet hair, gathers it between his fingers, twists it, holds it tighter as she starts moving her head back and forth, hollowing her cheeks, sucking on him hard and with a passion that surprises herself. He's grounding himself by gripping her hair, but he doesn't guide her head.

She feels his muscles shifting under the hand she braced on his thigh, he's holding back, his breaths becoming slightly rougher when she starts twisting her hand around his length, in tandem to the bobbing of her head, moving his tight skin over his hardened core, up and down, while she pushes his tip deeper into her mouth, not too deep, but inch by inch she dares to taste more of him.

Her head feels empty, her sole focus lies on pleasuring him, on feeling and hearing his noises, those little grunts and groans that mix with the loud slurping sounds she creates as she moves faster, strains her lips around him tighter, sucks harder, strokes him firmer. He was already hard when she started, now he's throbbing, basically vibrating with how the blood pumps through the bulging veins that rub along her tongue.

She breathes loudly through her nose, completely lost in the task, her mouth filled with spit and precum, and she doesn't even care what a mess she's become as it starts dripping down her chin and onto her chest. She licks around him, sucks, scrapes her tongue along the underside, pushes him deeper, dares to let him hit the back of her throat, but it's an instinct that she pulls back before she triggers her gag reflex.

A louder groan echoes through the tiled room, and the grip of his hand around her hair tightens, but he still doesn't do anything else, he just stands there, tall and strong, only the slightest of shivers in his legs, and lets her do her thing, gives her time to explore him, find her own pace.

Her eyes flutter open when she leans back a little, his tip heavy and swollen on her tongue, and looks up at him. His gaze is dark, his face a stoic mask, jaw clenched, but he watches her closely. She takes a deep breath, her heart thundering inside her chest, her knees shaking, but something like determination fills her stomach, hot and expanding, and while he looks at her, she opens her mouth a little wider and leans closer, looking up from under her lashes, more of his cock sliding into her mouth, tip hitting the back of her throat, and she braces herself, clenches up, then relaxes, and feels him sliding deeper.

As soon as he does, she squeezes her eyes shut, feels them watering, her hand digging into his thigh, but she keeps going, forces herself onward, him deeper, despite the overwhelming urge to gag or breathe or do anything but let him deeper into her throat. Her body shudders, she can't fight the uncontrollable twitch as she does gag after all, but she still holds him there, his cock in her throat, her chin brushing against his balls, nose almost pressed against his tight skin, those curly hairs tickling in her nostrils, while tears stream down her cheeks and her head feels both full and empty at the same time, her lungs burn, her whole being battles the sensation that shouldn't be.

His cock deep down her throat.

It's him that pulls her back and off him, and she gasps deeply, splutters and coughs, head lowered, spit dripping from her mouth as she takes hectic gulps of air. But there is something in her that makes her look back up, her hands moving towards his cock, grabbing it, wanting to continue. His hand finds her chin.

“Take it easy,” he says quietly, voice strained, but somewhat soft.

She swallows hard, nods, focuses back on closing her lips around his tip and sucking him deeper. Her hands twist and turn his skin as she resumes the bobbing of her head, and she feels him throbbing under her palms, more precum leaking onto her tongue and down her throat. His breaths are rougher, his hand back in her hair, his muscles shifting. She keeps going.

He pulls her back again when she feels him twitching, and it's an instinct, a normal thing, that she leans back a little, hands falling onto her lap, and opens her mouth wide with her tongue out flat, looking up at him, waiting for him to come on her face. He grips his cock hard, his big hand pumping it with expertise, his tip resting between her lips. His eyes are almost black, his face so tense, his nostrils flaring.

As soon as the first spurt hits her tongue, she closes her lips around his tip and sucks, her small hand curling around his, and he groans, strokes himself as he shoots load after load into her mouth, filling her cheeks until they're bulging, but she doesn't dare to swallow yet, keeps it hot and heavy on her tongue. He finishes with a grunt, tilting his head back, his throat working, the tension of his body falling from him with a deep shiver.

Pulling his cock from between her tight lips, he looks down at her, and she looks back, slowly opening her mouth, showing him what he gave her. He licks his lips and nods. “Swallow,” he says hoarsely, and she does, big gulps, savoring his taste, until it is all gone, which she shows him with a strange feeling of pride settling inside her. He watches her darkly, still gripping his cock, before he brings it back to her face. “Clean,” he whispers, and she's already on it the moment his tip brushes against her lips.

She sucks the last drops out of his slit, flicks her tongue around him, laps at his softening length, her head still empty, her only focus on him. Finishing her ministrations the way she has started them, with a kiss to his tip, she then leans away, reluctantly letting go of his cock, watching it bobbing gently before it settles in that semi-hard, semi-flaccid state against his thigh.

His hand is on her head, fingers digging into her hair, a gentle gesture. “Good girl,” he says quietly, his thumb finding her bottom lip. “That was really good...”

She smiles up at him, a sudden warmth spreading within her, and it's not his cum settling in her stomach, mixing with the other loads he's given her before. It's a strange kind of satisfaction, knowing that she's pleased him properly. He hooks his hand under her elbow and helps her to her feet, she feels shaky, grabs his arm for support, leans into him. He lets her and guides her out of the shower.

Slowly she comes back to her senses as the colder air of the bathroom crawls up her naked legs. Wiping at her mouth, she takes deep breaths, fighting the shaking of her hands, the trembling of her legs. He hands her a towel, and she starts drying off, her eyes staying on him as he does the same. It's one of those weird domestic moments, coming out of the shower together, cleaning up, his tall frame next to her smaller one in front of the vanity, their shapes blurred behind the fogged-up mirror.

His hand is on her shoulder, brushing her hair away. She turns to him, inhaling deeply, tilting her head as his fingers trace up along her pulse, over the marks he left, that little throbbing sensation right beneath her skin. It sends shivers down her spine when he touches them, and it makes her heart beat faster when he leans down to place his lips on them. She stiffens, breaths quickening, her arms by her sides while his hands move over her body with confidence, from her nape down to her lower back, from her thigh up to her breasts.

He kisses and explores her, so gentle she is simply surprised by the gesture, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how soft he can be despite being so strong and tall and intimidating. And she feels small, weak, insignificant, just a body standing in the middle of the bathroom, his bathroom, unsure what to do. He takes what he wants, and she's not allowed to have wants, but her own burn deep within her stomach, and lower, between her legs, under his hands, under his mouth, in the wake of his kisses and touches.

A little sigh escapes her, a quiver through her body, and her hand twitches. He's nibbling on her earlobe, teeth teasing, warm tongue licking along her skin, his hands on her waist, slowly pulling her towards him, into him, and she moves her hand and touches his stomach, fingertips scraping over hard muscles, moving over tight skin, around his side, up his back. She's held onto him before, but this feels more intimate, raw, a need she wants to scratch even though she isn't supposed to.

He presses his lips to her collarbone, and her hand is in his hair, digging through it, feeling the wet soft thickness of it, the warm skin, hard scalp, and the shiver that runs through him at the touch. She inhales deeply, takes in the steam in the air, the warmth of him. Her head is spinning. He leans up, her hand slips from his hair, falls to her side, their eyes meet.

She blinks, biting her lip. His eyes are almost black with how his pupils are dilated, that darkness burns inside them, a hunger for more. His tongue moves between his teeth as he exhales loudly through his nose. Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and hooks his hands behind her knees, grabs her thighs and hoists her up easily. Her hands find his shoulders, shifting muscles under her palms as he wraps her legs around his waist, hands under her rear now.

Her fingers slip around his neck, teasing at the hair in his nape, moving higher. She can't help herself, he feels too nice. He watches her, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. She keeps chewing on her lips, they feel raw and swollen, but she doesn't care, her entire focus is still on him, how he holds her against his hard body, strong hands supporting her so effortlessly.

There is nothing dominating about the situation, nothing to be afraid of, no pain to expect, he's just holding her, watching her, immobile, while she fights the urge to dig her fingers into his hair – until she just does it, follows her own want and touches his hair, massages his scalp. The involuntary shiver that shakes his big body makes her smile, a soft little twitch of her lips as she lets her eyes wander over his handsome face.

He stares at her, takes a deep breath, and suddenly he's walking out of the bathroom, and before she can even comprehend what's happening, he puts her down on the bed, he doesn't throw her, or dumps her there unceremoniously, he gently places her down before he crawls over her, braced on his hands and knees, caging her in, and looks down at her. She's shivering, anticipation crashing through her.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers hoarsely, clenching his jaw.

She bites her lip. “I... I don't want anything...” she replies quietly, remembering his rules.

He shakes his head. “But you do, I know it. You can tell me.” His voice is that low thrum in the air, deep and demanding, vibrating through her very bones.

“I...” She inhales deeply. “I want to... touch you...”

His eyebrows rise up. “Baby, you just touched me, you had my cock in your throat, your hands on me.” He tilts his head. “Where else do you want to touch me?”

“Everywhere,” slips out of her without much thought, a simple need falling over her lips. He huffs a laugh. “May I?” she whispers, and even though the lines on his forehead deepen, he nods.

Her hands move quick, almost on their own. First they brush against his chest, then up his neck to cup his face. She feels him clenching his jaw under her touch, his eyes intense but curious at the same time. Her fingers trace along the hard edges of his jaw, up to his cheekbones and over his eyebrows, to his temples, trailing his hairline. An innocent exploration that makes her cheeks burn up the more she touches him, the longer he watches her without doing or saying anything.

For him to allow this, feels almost strange, it's too intimate, too gentle, too much the opposite of what he has done to her. He's this big man leaning over her, a dark shadow taking up her entire vision, he's all she sees, and her small hands move over his face as if she's trying to tame the angry beast. Soft touches, fingertips tapping against skin, easing along creases, brushing over his nose, trailing around his lips.

"My turn?" There's a little tilt to his voice, almost like a question, but it's not. He doesn't ask, he takes what he wants. And still he waits for her to lower her hands.

She does, a little hesitantly, but he's patient for once. Her hands slip between his arms braced next to her shoulders, fingertips brushing against his knees, as she looks up at him with her chest rising and falling faster. He leans down, his body still mostly only hovering over her, that warm big entity, a weight she knows and wants, but he keeps his distance, arching his back as he brings his face closer to hers.

His breath ghosts her tingling lips, mingling with hers. She feels lightheaded, the anticipation gripping her almost a little too painfully. And when he brushes his lips against hers, a soft, gentle touch, she lets out the air she's been holding in a low little mewl. She feels him smiling against her mouth before he deepens the touch, lets his tongue glide over her bottom lip, then over her upper lip, then finally between them, slipping into her mouth as if he belongs there.

She lets him in, meets him with a needy push of her own tongue, and he sucks on it softly, a warm and wet sensation, a flutter in her stomach that turns into something bigger, hotter, burning its way lower until the throbbing makes her hips buck beneath him. The kiss is slow, still hungry and demanding. He captures her mouth as if he wants to devour her, and she moves against him in the same way, quickly mirroring the motions.

Her own wants flare up, melting with his, becoming one. Just kissing him, tasting him, his tongue and lips and mouth and his entire being pressed to her own, it feels like a dream, a strange little escape after everything that happened between them, that he made her do, that he forced on her. This, for once, feels right, and she wants it.

And as if he seems to feel how much she's enjoying herself, he leans back and breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open, a pout on her swollen lips, wet and warm with the ghost of his kisses. He smirks at her, winking at her, before he moves his head down again, pressing chaste kisses to her chin, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She exhales loudly, melting into the soft bed, closing her eyes as she lets him explore her once more.

He settles between her breasts before he shifts on top of her, sliding back, braced on his elbows, body still hovering over her, but closer, warmer. His hands tease at her sides, long fingers brushing against her small mounds. She stifles a gasp when she feels him closing his warm mouth around one of her peaks, his tongue flicking against her nipple, licking around it, and she can't help it, she arches her chest into his touch.

One of his big hands comes to lie heavy on the other breast, kneading, groping gently, palm pressing down hard enough she feels a little sting. Her eyes flutter open, and she watches him breathlessly, her own hands clawing at the sheets. His gaze wanders up, dark and intimidating as she meets it, hard despite the soft movements of his lips against her flesh, making her shiver deeply. He gives her bud a little suck, and she lets out a quiet moan, which encourages him to do it again, and again, until she squirms beneath him, breathing harder.

He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, leaving the nipple hard and aching, before he switches it up and focuses on the other, his mouth once again closing around the peak, giving it the same ministrations. His hand cups the wet one, palm pressing into it, rubbing over her bud, up and down, before he slides his fingers over her and teases it between them. She gasps again, and downright squeals quietly and jerks against him when he pinches the sensitive nipple between his fingertips.

A deep rumble vibrates through her chest when he laughs against her breast, continuing to lick and suck and nibble on her with a hunger that's on the verge of being cute if it wouldn't feel a little painful. But somehow she's leaning into it. After all, pain has become a part of whatever he does to her, it's always there, and somehow, she needs it to be there now to counteract all the cotton in her head that makes her dizzy.

She's breathing heavier once he's done with her tender tits, the flesh reddened and wet, peaks hard and swollen, so sensitive a simple puff of air makes her flinch. He teases her a little more, blowing against her skin, before he finally moves on, shifting on top of her again, bringing his lips to her fluttering stomach, planting soft little kisses on it until he licks broad strokes over her abdomen, lapping at her, tasting the sweat that's sure to linger there. She feels hot all over, almost exhausted, and she hasn't moved an inch since he put her down on the bed.

His hands move along her sides, and he leans up, watching her, slowly nudging her legs apart as he settles between them, that big shadow kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with dark eyes, ready to devour her even more. She sits up slightly, leaning on her elbows, licking her lips as she watches him with her chest heaving. He doesn't push her back down, he only hooks his arms around her legs and brings his face down, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin, cooling when it hits the slick that's been gathering between her thighs.

Despite everything that's happened, how intently he's explored her body thus far, she feels highly embarrassed when he starts bringing his lips to her aching core, a strange thing between shame and self-consciousness, when he starts kissing her lower lips like he's kissed her mouth before, his tongue skimming along her slit, licking up and down, dipping between her folds, lapping up the wetness seeping from her.

She slumps down onto her back again and hides her face behind her hands, issuing noises ranging from quiet mewls to mortified whines, when he starts to suck her skin between his lips, really going down on her eagerly clenching cunt. He teases his tongue against her entrance, pokes at it, pressing a little deeper, but when she bucks her hips into his face, he retreats, and she sighs.

His amused huff of a laugh is a deep vibration against her center, a warm breeze hitting her clit, and seconds later, his tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicks it, prods it, before he closes his lips around it and sucks hard.

She cries out, her thighs twitching in his hold, body arching off the bed a little. He tightens his arms around her legs, pushes her down, his breaths hard and rough as he resumes his assault on her nub. Not to squirm against him is impossible at this point, and she writhes, fights the sensations, gasping and moaning and wailing, her voice raw and hoarse.

Her stomach tenses, hands falling from her face to grip the sheets, and when she feels his teeth teasing her overstimulated clit, she jerks her hips up and screams shrilly as she feels the tension exploding inside her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, inhaling sharply, a deep intense gasp that only lets air in and not out, she floats, there's no other word for it, her head is full of a quickly expanding nothingness, there's no worry, no pain, just a blissful void.

He grounds her by continuing his ministrations, keeping his mouth leeched on to her wet cunt, lapping up whatever seeps out of her. He's grunting against her, loud breaths through his nose, his tongue that hot eager muscle that keeps her afloat, keeps her sensitive, keeps her wailing and whining as it dips into her hole, pressing deeper, doing things she had no idea a tongue could do.

She's completely out of it, held in that state of floating right above the edge, pulled back only to be pushed over it again, and again, and again, until all she can do is shiver and shudder, a boneless mess writhing on the sheets, slick from sweat, his saliva and her own juices. Head empty.

Oh head so deliciously empty...

Time must have passed, she isn't sure. Her eyes flutter open, and she's still this pliant body on the bed, immobile, but no longer held down, alone to be exact. Sitting up slowly, her limbs barely functioning, she looks around, before she flinches when she hears his footsteps to her right. He walks out of the closet, wearing running shoes and a tight shirt and formfitting but still loose sweatpants, in the middle of zipping up a matching hoodie.

He approaches the bed, this intimidating shadow looming over her, watching her. She licks her lips, blinking slowly when he sits down on the edge and extends a hand towards her, gently caressing her cheek.

“I'm going for a run,” he tells her quietly, eyes boring into hers. “Be a good girl and rest now, okay?”

Something hot swirls through her stomach, and she nods. “Yes, sir,” she whispers barely audible, watching him smile as he leans in to press his lips to her forehead.

“Don't explore, I'll know if you do,” he adds when he leans back, standing up, his voice low and dark, causing her to shiver. “If you get bored, you know what I keep in that drawer.” She frowns as he tilts his head towards the nightstand, before she blushes deeply and nods, looking away.

He moves his fingers over her leg as he walks around the bed. She rolls onto her side and watches him. He gives her a wink and leaves the bedroom. There's a quiet clicking sound, and she knows he's locked her in. And somehow it's that noise that wakes her up fully. Her heart starts thundering inside her chest as panic settles in.

Locked up. Taken. Forced to do things she never fully agreed to.

Why it hits her now after she's just experienced the best orgasms of her life, she has no idea. Must be that clarity that comes afterwards. It is one of these clear moments as she sits up slowly, grabbing at her chest, mindlessly pulling the covers around her while she stares ahead blankly.

Is this her life now? Or will he let her go once he's done? Will he ever be done? She's his to use whenever he wants, he's made that perfectly clear, so why would he let her go anytime soon? It's her role, her purpose, to... be used, to serve him, to be this body full of holes he can fill up however he wants.

And yet there is something else. She's more to him than that, isn't she? Would he bother eating her out otherwise? Giving her these amazing releases? Unless he's gaining something from it too, which he probably does, though. He's a selfish man, so much she knows by now. But he's let her rest, even though he was definitely hard when he gave her that extra attention (her body still shivers just remembering it all), yet instead of releasing the tension with her, inside her, he's going running?

She must mean more to him. And maybe him locking her up, is a sign of protectiveness, keeping her safe and sound, giving her the simple task to rest and relax (and possibly play with herself if she gets bored which she knows she won't, the thought alone makes her shudder in the worst way). It's almost a gift after all the things he made her do. To do nothing.

Inhaling deeply, she cuddles into the covers, closing her eyes. Rest does sound pretty good right about now.

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

End notes: This might have been the softest chapter yet, or maybe the first where she's finally fully embraced her new role as his little plaything? Whatever it was, it was fun to write, a nice change to all the unprediactable stuff he's usually up to. (But don't worry, he won't tone it down any time soon...)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #praise k!nk #older man younger woman #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #original fiction

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heartofmortis · 1 month ago

Text

✶ Lionheart

Prologue

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

warnings: none!

note: so this is also an oc fic on wp, but i wanted to try out something new! in rewriting to second person, some edits have been made. there will be no y/n, and there are other ocs in this fic (since that’s what i usually write) and reader does have some physical descriptions. // there is minor canon divergence regarding hotd/f&b here, which links to my other asoiaf fics and there are a couple of ocs mentioned in the chapter (hopefully that won’t be annoying lol).

word count: 2k

tag list: @houseofamidala @madeofstaardust @tojisrealwifey @justmymindandstuff (lmk if you want to be added of removed!)

You were four when blood first touched your innocent skin. Your skin was no longer pure, neither was your heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, you learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.

The creatures always circled King’s Landing as vultures searched for the dead. “The little birds are always looking for trouble,” came Cersei Lannister’s warning in the castle gardens with you nestled close in your mother’s arms. “Watch your step or they’ll be waiting in your shadows all your life.”

When you were set down, your feet steady on the ground, you raced on ahead. Your long skirts clung to your little legs, blonde curls bounding behind you. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — you skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flowerheads and the ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. You wished it could be only you and your mother in the gardens forever. You slipped out of your mother’s line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into your mouth, licking sweet juice from your fingers to keep your dainty snack a secret.

Then you came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in your haste, when you found your path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. You took the bird in your hands, scarlet smeared across your fingers. You did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.

You brought the bird against your chest, cupped with both of your delicate hands, and ran back across the path you had come down. You took the bird to your mother, who was quick to scold you for touching a dying animal. “But can’t the maesters help?” Your eyes were wide and glassy, mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Your mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King’s Landing.)

Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter’s naivety. “The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird.” They always look for trouble.

You huffed, deeming your mother’s response to be an unacceptable response. “Why?”

The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird’s frail body from your hands, which became a struggle with your reluctance. “We’re all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion.”

“But it will die!”

“All things do, eventually.” Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind the two of you. “Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here.”

You walked with heavy steps back to the Red Keep, muttering about the unfairness of the bird’s fate — it was a baby, why could it not be saved? If all things die, why is life not more precious? Any day could be the last.

“Where are you scurrying away to, little doe?” Your father’s voice was a formidable boom when he caught you in the corridors, flanked by handmaidens, wandering towards your rooms.

You showed your father the specs of blood across your dress. “Mother says I have to clean up.”

Robert Baratheon laughed. He shooed away your company and picked his daughter up with one strong arm. “A little blood never hurts anyone. You’re a Baratheon, my stormbird. You’ll get used to blood in no time”

The King took you to the throne room. You liked it here: the tall ceiling, the ivy-strewn pillars, the warm glow of sunlight, and the Iron Throne. Robert took his seat and rested you on his knee. You stared around the room, you had never seen it from this angle before. Between the tower of swords from the first Dragon King, still sharp enough to tear you in half, it felt powerful to sit here. You could imagine hundreds of people knelt before them and understood why men spent their lives chasing power. (You felt like a true Princess.)

“This would have been your’s one day if your mother had not had that damn brother of yours.”

Your father’s voice was rough with bitterness. His words pulled you out of her daydream. Only a year younger than you, your brother, Joffrey, was a terror. Your mother doted on her children equally, but you knew your father had his favourite. You were secretly happy with it — the less time you spent with Joffrey pulling heads off flowers and doing worse, vicious things, the better.

“One day,” your King father continued, “you will marry a great lord, a good lord. But you should always have a place here, my daughter.”

/✿✿✿/

Robb Stark was eight when he learned what real summer felt like. In the aftermath of a rebellion in the Iron Islands led by his father and the King, Robb and his twin sister, Alys, travelled to King’s Landing with their father to attend Robert Baratheon’s Name Day celebration. Spring had passed and the snows around Winterfell were low. Robb spent half the journey complaining about how he wanted to ride his horse next to his father while their septa told him to pay attention to their lessons. Watching the country change shape along the Kingsroad did keep Robb moderately interested — glimpsing the lands outside of the North was rather novel. Alys shared Robb’s adventurous instinct and they ran amok, hiding between trees and tents of their father’s company every time they stopped for a meal. But there were only so many games two eight year olds could play.

For all Ned Stark had told his children about King’s Landing and the Red Keep, Robb found it all rather underwhelming. There was no grand welcome for the Starks when they arrived. The city streets were too busy and the air was too hot.

Robb and Alys were brought before the Iron Throne — the hideous, towering King’s Seat made with a thousand melted swords — to be presented to King Robert Baratheon, their father’s oldest friend. Robb was aware he had been named after the King (just as his half-brother Jon had been named after Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King). Perhaps Robb’s father saw greatness in his son’s future, a boy worth naming after a king. Robert Baratheon was not the formidable giant Robb had expected to meet. Robb could imagine the warrior king that had won the throne and broke the Greyjoy Rebellion and hoped he would never fight in a war.

The Starks were escorted to their guest rooms for the duration of their stay. Alys and Robb’s rooms lay next to each other. Before Robb could finish unpacking his chest, Alys snuck into her brother’s room. She laid back on his bed, Robb made a fuss when his sister got her boots on the sheets.

“I want to explore. Will you come with me?”

Robb did not hesitate before he nodded, a grin spread across his face. Unpacking was boring anyway.

The twins barrelled through red corridors, ducking under maids and Kingsguards. The castle was theirs for the taking.

The Red Keep was bigger than any of the Northern castles the twins had visited before, full of labyrinthine corridors. A maze without a centre for Robb — but Alys seemed to know where she wanted to be.

Robb and Alys were stopped in their tracks when Robb almost tumbled into a girl. She was their age, if younger by a few moons, dressed in pink and gold with dark blonde curls. A huge black cat with a grumpy expression was clasped in her arms. Alys recognised the girl first. Robb felt a winter chill blow through him, tethering him frozen in place. The girl was pretty like a colourful bloom in the snow. She looked at the twins, wide-eyed and curious. She held the kind of warmth the North only felt during fleeting spring days. Alys punched her twin brother in the stomach and Robb mimicked her bow.

You smiled, a pink glow on her freckle-dappled cheeks. “You must be the Stark twins. Father told me about you.”

“Can you take us to see the dragons?” Alys asked quickly, eagerly rocking on the balls of her feet. “I thought I knew the way but…”

You paused, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. The cat in your arms jumped free — he rounded the twins, giving judgemental looks, and brushed against Alys’s legs before darting away. “They’re all underground now,” you explained. “We aren’t supposed to visit them, but I know the way.”

It was evening by the time you and the Stark twins entered the cellar room beneath the castle. Golden hour light faded, leaving the underground room in growing shadows. Robb had not been as enthusiastic as Alys and Jon about House Targaryen in all their lessons, but his heart thundered in his chest, mouth agape when he saw the nineteen dragon skulls.

The smallest dragon skulls were even smaller than direwolves, tiny dog-sized creatures but their teeth were still dagger-sharp. As the three children ventured down the room, the dragons grew bigger. You explained that many of them were unknown. Robb wondered how magical it must have been to live centuries ago and see dragons patrolling the sky. The largest dragon skulls were those of Meraxes, ridden by Queen Rhaenys, Vhagar, ridden by Queen Visenya, and Balerion the Black Dread, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. Most dragons have more than one rider, but later riders paled in comparison to the conquerors.

“This one is Vermax,” you told Robb, pointing to another dragon skull halfway down the room. “Ridden by King Jacaerys, First of his Name. He married a Stark. An Arya, I think.”

Robb turned to his sister to tell her that one of their ancestors had married a dragonrider, but Alys had stepped away. She was distracted by another dragon.

“That’s Syrax,” you said quietly to Robb. “She was ridden by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Alys touched Syrax’s skull and smiled wistfully. “She was yellow.”

You tensed. “I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them. I’m not supposed to come down here after dark.”

Robb approached his sister, whose stormy eyes still gazed wistfully at the dragons, and touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchens. See if they have lemon cakes.”

Finally, Alys looked away and nodded. She cracked a smile. “But don’t tell Sansa — she would be upset if we had cake without her.”

Together, the children left the cellar room. Robb stared at the dragon skulls for as long as possible as you closed the door. To see a dragon fly over Winterfell… He sighed sadly and wished there was more magic left in the world.

You showed them to the kitchens. Alys skipped on ahead, wondering out loud about how wonderful it must be to live in the Red Keep and you were happy to fuel her daydreams. The three of you scurried up a spiral staircase, for once Robb did not challenge his sister to a race. Which was probably a good thing as Alys was ahead and she did not see him trip up the stairs. Robb threw his hands out, scraping his skin against the rough stone to catch himself. You looked at him and Robb turned red, embarrassed to make a fool of himself in front of the princess.

You helped him up. Blood from a small cut on Robb’s palm smeared onto your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a little blood. Here–” You sat Robb down on the step and took the hem of your dress to dab away the blood.

Robb clenched his fist and moved away. “You’ll ruin your dress.”

You took his hand back, gently uncurling his fingers. “That doesn’t matter.”

You dabbed at the thin beads of blood, holding for a few seconds. You both waited as the blood stopped spilling. “I’ll ask one of the cooks to help you.” You stood and reached out to take Robb’s other hand. He took your hand gratefully and stood. “Don’t worry,” you added, “everything will be alright.”

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #robb stark x original female character #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfiction #lionheart #taryn baratheon #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf #got #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n

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kupakaa · 1 year ago

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✧ Vi + Switch + Trying to overstimulate = fun !

So first things first: I am not good with overstim. Like at all. I will become a scrabbly wet cat and you will get scratched and I will slip out of your arms !

Imagining a short drabble thingy with Vi and the reader (which is totally not a thinly-veiled self-insert) where she's fingering you, her palm rubbing against your clit. Her fingers curl juuust right inside you to hit your sweet spot. Your heart pounds harder until you can't hold on any longer and you clench around her, clit throbbing against her palm. When your initial spike of pleasure begins to subside you expect her to lay off and stop pumping her fingers. But alas, she keeps going. And the sensation becomes less pleasurable and more overwhelming, inching towards aggravating.

“Ffff… Wait, wait, wait,” you groan, trying to catch your breath.

“Relax,” she says. She rubs your thigh with her other arm. “Just one more, yeah?”

A tightness grows in your stomach. Your clit, uncomfortably sensitive, is still dragging against her calloused hand. It feels like a match against strike paper, rubbing again and again in hopes of starting a fire. But you can’t; you physically cannot. Not yet, not until she at least lets the hot bundle cool.

You can see the mischief in her eyes. Your toes curl. You try to close your thighs, but her hand forces them open. Stubborn. Always so damn stubborn, she was. A need to wipe that cheeky smirk off her face runs through your veins, almost overpowering the pleasure of your orgasm.

When she’s distracted by the sight of your glistening pussy, you rush forward. She gasps, finally pulling her hand back and out of you. You wince at the sudden movement but you try not to let it distract you. You grab the wrist of her offending hand and hold it tight, threatening it with your nails. One of your knees presses her thigh against the bed while the other presses against her crotch. You can feel a quick throb beneath the fabric of her trousers. Her other arm is free, but you let her know with a stare that you won’t hesitate to try and stop it if she tries anything funny.

“I say wait, you wait, got it?” you say between your panting. You can feel your slick and cum flowing down your thigh. While you weren’t yet ready for a second round, you couldn’t deny how arousing it was to have her beneath you. The mighty pink-haired brawler, staring up at you with flushed cheeks and a small tinge of embarrassment.

Sure, she could flip the tables with a little effort. But that silent glee behind your eyes… Who is she to take that away from you?

She swallows, then nods. “Uh, mhm.”

#vi x reader #vi arcane #vi smut #arcane x reader #sapphic #switch reader #✧ Writing #this was fun #but now I will rest

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faerunsbest · 7 months ago

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Pinned

in which Zevlor is placed in a rather compromising position with Tav(she/her)

Zevlor finds himself in a rather unfortunate or at least uncomfortable situation. A bit of equipment holding in the groves storage facilities have snapped. With nowhere to run, Tav and the old paladin find themselves pressed into a corner. Various sacks of supplies have fallen and press rather firmly against his back. The bones of the storage structure have fallen and locked it all in place on top of them, noise and shouting could be heard behind them as people tried to lift it.

Zevlor tried to control his breathing carefully, not wanting to be puffing in Tavs face. He looked as away as he was able, even his horns were trapped in place, limiting which way he could turn his head.

“Apologies…”

He muttered unsure what to say, Tav however grinned at him with his arms over her shoulders, hands pressed to the wall as he tried not to let himself be right on top of her.

“ For what? I'm having fun”

He raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of what she meant.

“...might I ask how?”

She reached up to pull the end of his left horn out from its pace embedded in the side of a burlap sack. He huffed with relief as he could now move his neck.

“How else would I ever get so close to you?”

He blinked looking down at her, now with her chin against his breastplate. Veiled eyes that hid none of her interest looked up at him.

“Why… why would you want to be so close…to me?”

Something tightly banded beside her leg snapped, the quick loosed strip of leather whipping her calf. Zevlors ear twitched at the unexpected moan. For a moment even she looked embarrassed. The bundle was arrows, now jabbing up against her. She worked her jaw, placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself up. Zevlor grunted, hearing the clatter of the arrows falling to the empty space where her little slippers had been.

“Because I think you're pretty”

She gripped him by his shoulders, setting her thighs against his hips and suddenly he had enough room to shift his footing. While he was in his normal armor, she was in attire more casual. Much thinner. He swallowed loudly as they wound up pressed further against the wall.

Her thighs gripped his hips tight so she could free her hands to reach up and keep anything else from getting tangled in his horns.

As she did, she made a point of gliding her palms down all the way to the base of his horns, caressing the sensitive skin there. She watched him close his eyes at the feeling. Breath hitching as he tried to behave himself

“ This isn't appropriate”

“Why?”

Zevlor pushed a knee forward, against the wall. He felt her weight settle on him, for a moment they just listened to the others struggling to get them free. He stayed quiet since he really didn't have a reason…not a good one anyway. She felt a small weight in her stomach form as she watched him keep from looking at her.

“Zevlor?”

“ Hmm?”

“Do you mind this?”

Again he looked around at the mess, then down to her quizzically. For a moment he wanted to pretend he didn't understand, then her fingers went to his hair. Gently gliding through, he shivered. Her hungry gaze from before, now replaced by something gentler though just as sincere.

“I dont… I don't mind”

“Would you like me to leave you alone after this?”

He paused to think, unsure of what an appropriate response would be. Hard to think when he could smell the soap on her skin, something herbal only slightly floral. Hard to think with her soft fingertips brushing through his hair.

“No.”

He relaxed his arms to let himself press against her more fully. As he did something behind them popped and whatever had been holding the structure in place fell loose. Suddenly everything came tumbling down. On reflex, he curled his body around her, her arms reaching up to guard his horns from damage in the unexpected avalanche of items.

With a huff the pair dug their way up from the mess, surprised to see Dammon standing there holding a hammer.

“ I told you!”

He said to Danis, who seemed to have lost all color in his face. Without warning, Tav started laughing. She held onto Zevlors arm as she doubled over cracking up.

“still having fun?”

#bg3 #zevlor #cute #baldurs gate 3

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sugudollz · 10 months ago

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Fem! Gojo eating you out ❤️ not proofread (it’s 3 AM I’m going crazy)

Imagine fem!Satoru eating you out… her tongue on your pussy, sliding up and keeping her eyes on you the whole time. The way your expressions constantly contort into one of overwhelming pleasure, it made her wet. A smile plays at her lips as she reaches your clit, then she sucks and sucks until she draws moan after moan after moan from you. “Hey, hey, look at me, baby,” she says, snapping her fingers in your face to get your attention. Through glassy eyes, you look down at her—her chin is painted in your juices, but she isn’t even near done, no, and it’s obvious with the way she slowly drags her tongue up your leaking cunt, her eyes glued to yours the whole while. You whimper, eyebrows knitted together and your cheeks flushed. “You’re doing so good f’me, hm?” It’s a low murmur when she says this, her voice deep and seducing, and it makes you whine. She sinks her sharp teeth into her lower lip before diving right in between your spread out legs again, slurping and sucking and it’s loud, and that’s the way she wants it; messy and nasty. Her moans are muffled in the heat of your pussy, only adding to the stimulation. She plants kisses up until once again she’s at your pussy, where she sucks again, before reaching her hand up for the bundle of nerves. There, she rubs and rubs and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Yeahhh… be my sweet baby ‘n cum for me, yeah?” She leans up to whisper in your ear as her two fingers slip into your tight little her, your warmth embracing her digits and clenching around them as she slowly starts to slide them in and out. “You can do it, I know you can, baby doll,” and it’s the way she adds a third finger and then the way she whispers it in your ear and the way her heated breath hits your skin and the way her words are so filthy. You’re coming undone with just a few thrusts of her skilled wrists, reaching up for her hair and tangling your hands in them, shoving her head in the crook of your neck as you whine and whine. Whimper after whimper is drawn out of your lips, your toes curling and drool slipping past your parted lips. She’s pressing wet, sloppy kisses along the slope of your neck, and her fingers keep fucking your little pussy even as you’re gushing all over them. “That’s it… yeah, I knew you were good girl, huh? So sweet for me… you’re doing so well, hm?” She whispers against your skin, right before pulling her fingers out. You’re panting heavily, your forearm rested on your forehead as sweat trickles down it. “Hey, look at me.” She taps on your cheek, and you do as you’re told—looking up at her after she removed her head from your neck and is now standing above you. You’re confused, until she teasingly places her two long, pretty fingers that were coated in your juices on her tongue, a sly smile embracing her features when she sees your eyes grow slightly wider. She slides her wet fingers down the wet muscle, until they reach the top of it when she wraps her wet lips around them and sucks, her eyes locked on yours in the process. “Stop it… ‘s embarrassing…” you whimper and cover your eyes with your two hands. Of course, fem Satoru isn’t having that. “Hey, hey, don’t do that… look at me, alright?” She grabs your wrists and throws them back to your side. “Lemme see that beautiful face all times of the day, yeah? Especially when I’m eating this five star pussy, ‘Kay?”

#꒰ SUGU DOLLZ ꒱ — .ᐟ #jjk smut #Gojo smut #jjk x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #Gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut

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sleepy-wyvern · 2 years ago

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Can I request some smut with Eddie, where he’s not quite a virgin but he’s very inexperienced and him and reader have been together a good chunk of time. They are finally getting down to business and Eddie is so unsure of himself, but he’s hitting the most wonderful spots, but he keeps slowing and questioning reader if he’s good and if she’s okay and she’s just like “shut up, don’t stop, fuck me” not in a mean way just that she needs Eddie sooooo bad

Thanks so much for the request darling! What a fun idea <3 and tbh this prompt is definitely a head canon, he would completely act that way! I've literally been writing fan fics for hourrrrs and I proofread it but I hope it sounds legible lol. Hope you enjoy thanks so much for sending a request! <3

Dinner and a Movie | Eddie Munson x female!Reader Smut <3

Synopsis: Tag along on a drive in movie (horror!) date while you’re a bundle of nerves about planning yours and Eddie’s first time.

SMUT! 18+ Only, please DNI if you are a minor!

Tags: inexperienced sex, couch sex, vanilla, fingering, p in v, condom, pet names: darling, sweetheart

Words: ~4.8k, AO3 link here

Tonight’s the night you were finally going to have sex with the one and only Eddie Munson.

Your stomach was an empty pit of nerves and butterflies fluttering against your rib cage. It seemed a good idea at the time, to mutually decide to take your relationship slow and steady. You hadn’t wanted a relationship centred around just sex, yet today that’s all you could think about.

You and Eddie have been dating a while now and it wasn’t hard to tell he was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. He hates to see you sad, whenever you were even a little discontent he worked so hard to make you happy. Stupid, goofy jokes and gags even in public just to make you laugh. Snacks and your favourite food and movies whenever you were too depressed to get out of bed.

Well now you couldn’t sit still, bouncing your leg as you sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly into your closet.

What the hell do I wear? Is there a designated first-time-having sex-with-my-boyfriend outfit?

Staring at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but be critical of yourself as he’ll see you naked in merely hours.

Eddie assured you that he would follow your lead in the relationship, taking things as slow or fast as you wanted to. He really was fine with anything either way, you treasured that knowing it wasn’t always the easiest thing to find in a guy.

Regardless, you hadn’t told him yet but you planned on initiating more than your usual steamy make outs tonight. Your body couldn’t take it anymore, after last night when you kissed in his van your thighs were soaking. The way he tasted lingered on your tongue, planting himself deep inside you. Your dreams were filled with desire for him. You couldn’t wait any longer, calling him as soon as you woke up to plan a date tonight.

“Hey,” his sleepy voice answered the phone, slightly raspy which made things worse in a beautiful, wonderful way “everything alright?” you could almost feel his large brown eyes looking at you through the phone.

“Yeah, everythings perfect,” you press your lips into a tight line nervously, receding into the soft security of your bed sheets. “I was uh, just wondering if you wanted to do something tonight.”

You heard a slight ruffling noise, presumably from him shifting his position, “of course I would. Did you want to do anything in particular?”

Your mind blanked and you answered honestly, “I have no idea. I just wanted to be with you.”

He chuckled into the phone making you shiver “well, dinner and a movie?”

“Cheesy,” you smile into the phone.

“I mean, both at once,” he continues.

“Oh?”

More ruffling from his end of the line before he replies “The drive in movie theatre, they’re playing a scary movie, your favvvooourrrite” he teases trying to make it sound more appealing. Truth be told, he didn’t need to play it up for you, you loved the idea.

He answers for you “I’ll pick you up at 7, good spots are taken early” the confidence in his voice makes you giddy like your crushes you had as a teenager.

“Sounds like you have that all figured out then,” you twirl your hair around your finger making a small curl.

The entire Saturday you couldn’t sit still. You puzzled for nearly an hour on what to wear, your spotify playlist beaming in your ears.

“Fuck it,” you sigh grabbing ripped jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, and your favourite underwear set, hidden beneath your outfit.

You fussed with your hair, trying to make it look as effortless as possible, yet with a shit ton of effort. You knew Eddie didn’t care- you could show in pyjamas or hell, even naked and he’d be happy. Maybe too happy.

The time seemed to go both fast and slow until 7 rolled around. You had been waiting all day for this yet your body jumped as the door knocked. You open the door to see him standing there, hair pulled back into a sweet, casual messy bun with wild strands framing his face. In his hands he held some flowers, looking down at them you blush.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask after thanking him, taking them from him after letting him in.

He folded his arms, leaning back against the wall watching you look for a vase “Do I need one to give my girlfriend flowers?”

You glance back at him seeing his cocky smile “if you were a normal guy” you reply hauling out an old vase.

You fill it high with water, placing the flowers in carefully as he speaks “Well I’m everything but normal.”

The purple, pink and white flowers rest lazily in the vase, creating an ornate centrepiece for your kitchen table.

You walk up to him wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight hug. You could feel his heartbeat as you pressed your chest into his, the thumping rising the longer you stayed there.

“Thank you,” You murmur, “they’re beautiful. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

You looked up at him and you knew he didn't need reassurance to act himself, but it felt nice for him to hear that you liked him just the way he was and accepted his differences. He kissed the top of your head, running his hand along your upper back.

“Let’s go, there’s some popcorn calling my name,” you smile against his chest before you pull back to put your shoes on.

“Don’t forget the mysterious cant-legally-call-it-butter popcorn topping” he laughs at his own joke quietly and you roll your eyes.

“It must be made with drugs,” you say, fixing your shoes.

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” he agreed, “are you ready?” He whispered.

You nod “I think so.”

Music blasted through the radio as he drove you in his esteemed van, windows down and wind cooling your nerves. Although his driving was reckless, you loved riding in the passenger side, sitting back listening to music with him next to you. The epitome of summer, and of near meditation, stripping any stress off of your body. Before you knew it, the van slowed to a stop as he paid for your tickets.

“Thanks Eddie,” you spoke as soon as you drove away from the ticketer.

“For what?” He asked and you knew he wouldn’t accept thanks for paying for the ticket.

You turned your head to watch him concentrate on the road, and to find a parking spot. His brows are furrowed as he squints looking around.

“For everything,” you reply and he looks at you, confused for a moment.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, sweetheart” he leans towards you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re watching?” you ask just now realising you have no idea what movie you’re going to see.

He pulls into a parking spot where you both have a nice view of the screen, white against the setting sky, “Nope. You’ll have to find out the hard way” he grins.

You and Eddie make your way to the concession stand as you were sure he wouldn’t add enough mysterious topping to your popcorn, despite insisting he knows how much you like. While waiting for your turn for the gooey goodness, he practises throwing popcorn up in the air, one piece at a time trying to catch it in his mouth.

“Eddie,” you scold as he finally catches one, unable to keep a wide goofy grin off of his face while he chews.

You smack him lightly on the chest while he laughs at you “Eddie,” you repeat “they’re going to kick us out!”

He rolls back on the balls of his feet, careful not to spill the popcorn. Clearly he wasn’t made for standing still. It made things like waiting in line more interesting though, as he found new ways to make you laugh, hopefully without getting you both kicked out on date night. It didn’t take too long to get your turn, and you returned back to his van with your haul in your arms. Darkness spread further in the horizon, only a faint line of sun remained and you knew the movie would start soon.

“Okay so I lied,” he said in between chips “nachos and popcorn isn’t exactly the best meal…” he trailed off.

“Actually I love it. Everyone’s childhood dream honestly” you smile warmly at him, taking a chip and dipping it in the cheese sauce.

The screen lit up as the projector flickered to life. Eddie moved his hand quickly to the portable radio, switching the dials until tuned into the correct station, flipping through some music and news broadcasts as he did.

You watch the screen as crickets chirp and campfire music starts playing through the speaker and you almost whip your head over to smile at him “Friday the 13th!” You cheer.

“Shhh,” he said with a smirk “no talking at the movies,”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him before looking back at the screen; Camp Crystal Lake 1958.

Eddie turns to you mimicking the ch ch ch ha ha ha of the music.

“No talking!” You scold.

After swallowing some popcorn he answers “hey, that was humming and that’s much better than their singing.”

You laugh, batting at him, “that’s talking!”

“Shhh, you’re going to miss the sex scene,” he teases, making you roll your eyes.

All it made you think of was what you had planned for later tonight, making you readjust your position suddenly nervous. Well, it won’t go this bad right?

You’re lost in your thoughts as the movie zooms into the girls’ face in a still shot of her screaming, fading into the roll of intro credits as most older movies tended to have early in the movie.

“Coke?” Eddie offers his drink to you and you raise your eyebrow.

“Really? You’re offering me coke when I ordered Diet Coke?” You let out a small snort of a laugh.

He shrugs innocently “it tastes different!”

You laugh “please don’t get me hooked on the hard stuff again.” You wave off his offer, taking a sip of your own drink out of the red and white striped straw.

As the movie plays and you finish the nachos, you lean against his shoulder snuggling in as you work on the popcorn. Your hands brush together as you laugh at the first girl for ignoring every red flag. You share giggles in the darkness of the van over the comical kills of old movies. You made fun of them, sure, but that was part of the charm with old school slashers.

Normally with movies you’d be yawning by the end of it, trying to stay awake. But you were nervous, and determined to make tonight as perfect- or at least as good as you possibly could.

Looking over at him watching the movie intently filled you with a hot desire. His black leather jacket fit the atmosphere entirely and framed his body underneath. The feeling of his firm chest against your head was comforting but you wanted- no, needed- more of him. You wanted to feel his body on top of you, engulfed in everything that is him. Perfect dark brown wavy hair, tired droopy eyes filled with laughter, slim torso and a delicious waist.

Perhaps he knew you wanted more, you wondered as he raised an arm putting it over your shoulder rendering you even closer to him.

By the end of the movie, when they zoom the camera into the lake, your heart was pounding in your chest. Eddie had turned the van on to start it, putting the warm air on you hadn’t noticed how cool the air was.

“Always love that” he smiles tapping his fingers against the van door.

“Me too. Wanna come back to my place?” It took all of your courage to say it tonight, although every other night it came easily. Tonight was different, everything was different.

“Yeah, are you okay?” He says noticing something off about you “we can call it a night if you want.”

“No” you said a little too quickly, redness rising to your cheeks “Yeah everything’s okay. Perfect actually,” and it was. Then why were you so nervous?

“Okay” he smiled, squeezing your knee gently.

You move your fingers to the car radio, switching to Bluetooth to play some music through Spotify on your phone. You put on the playlist Eddie had tailored for you, of his favourite music he’d thought you’d like. And it did help, before long you were fumbling with the keys to your apartment.

Switching on the lights, your small apartment felt somehow different than you left it, even though no nook or cranny had been touched. The soft arrangement of flowers still held strong in their vase, slurping up the water you provided. You lazily lay your purse on the kitchen table next to them, leaving your shoes at the door. Eddie does the same, making himself at home as he always does, with a carefree attitude.

“Thirsty?” you ask, you grab the remote flipping on some sitcom on the tv.

“Naw,” he shakes his head, taking off his leather jacket revealing a dark long sleeved shirt beneath.

Flopping yourself on the couch you sigh as he sits next to you. He was much more relaxed than you, leaning back into the couch as if it were his own, tapping his fingers against his knee. The tv hums in your ears as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, switching the playlist on through your speakers, quiet enough to not disturb any neighbours. You curl up into him, pressing your thighs against his legs and leaning your head against his chest.

After a moment of music playing, his foot tapping against the floorboards, the words leave your lips cautiously “I had fun tonight Ed’s…”

“Me too,” he whispered into you, brushing his lips along your hair. “I always have fun when I’m with you” his whisper was louder as his lips touched your ear, making you shudder.

Suddenly you’re looking up at him as the butterflies inside your chest take over, brown eyes staring down, hypnotising you. Your lips meet in a deep kiss for the first time this evening, a sweet relief.

He pulls back for a moment to say “You know, you don’t have to feel pressured to do anything. I’m happy with the way things are, with whatever you want.”

You blush realising he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I-I know…” you trail off “yeah I’m just really nervous” your eyes meet his “but it’s because I really want this, and I want it to be perfect.”

He smiles at you, and you’re worried you said something wrong “I’ve been so nervous about this since the day we started dating.” He runs his hand through his hair, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this nervous “I don’t exactly have much in terms of experience.” He admits, red rising to his cheeks, a rare sight.

“Anything with you would be perfect,” you say to him with a smile.

“Actually, that’s my line here sweetheart” brown eyes glistened with joy.

“You know,” You admit “I called you this morning because I had this dream and…” you trail off cheeks even redder.

“A dream?” He smirked down at you, running his thumb along your waist. Clearly, he understood what he needed to do, “tell me about it,” he whispered.

You recount the dream you had, suddenly feeling flustered but you wanted him to know exactly how badly you wanted him “we-we we’re at the beach,” you start and he hums.

“Sex on the beach?” He smirks at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “lovely drink too.”

“No, silly. Well yes but… we went swimming” you think back to the dream, the sky was dark and the moon illuminated both of you, dancing off the water. “You dragged me into the water, asshole move by the way,” you glare at him.

He sighs “dream me getting me in trouble.”

“You say that like you wouldn't do it in reality.”

“Okay fair” he laughs as you smack his shoulder “continue.”

“You dunked me under water, so I pulled you in. Then we started kissing…” his hand trailed up under the fabric of your shirt ever so slightly. “You started grabbing my thighs…”

“Like this?” He asks, bringing his hand to your thigh.

Strong fingers grasp it, his thumb traces random patterns on your jeans “mmhmm,” you whisper as he slowly moves up. Your legs heat up as you feel yourself starting to wetten.

“And then, you untied my swimsuit top, throwing it into the ocean so I couldn’t grab it” he twisted his body to face you as you spoke, bringing his free hand to the small of your back.

“Go me,” he whispered with a smile.

You laugh before continuing “and you kissed me. Everywhere. I mean, everywhere.”

“You know,” he snuck his hand underneath your shirt, running over the bare skin of your waist. “I could do that for you, if you like.”

You find yourself climbing on top of his lap, straddling his hips. He was taken aback but pleasantly so, eyes staring up at you in wonder. He grabbed both of your love thighs, trailing his hands back to your ass. You lean down kissing him deeply, feeling his tongue against yours tasting his sweetness. He grabs your ass lovingly as you kiss, hard and deep while you release his wild hair from the confines of his messy bun.

You run your fingers through his hair lovingly, kissing him passionately, gasping into each others’ mouths. His hands are up and cupping your breasts through the light fabric of your bra. You imagine riding him then and there, letting out an ever so slight moan. His breath was shaky, first you were a little embarrassed by the noise but clearly it fed something in him.

He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra, fiddling with it for a few moments before you feel the band slacken. You shimmy the straps off of your shoulders, letting the bra fall out of your t-shirt onto your thighs. You look up at him innocently as he looks at your bra in wonder “go me” he whispered with a playful grin.

You feel your nipples stiffen against your shirt as you pull it up and over your head, his jaw nearly dropped, “you are so damn gorgeous…” he mumbles, bringing his mouth to your breast.

Your head falls back as he kisses your nipple, licking his tongue hungrily along your breast. He brushes his tongue quickly against your nipple, back and forth making you let out a moan. He moves to the other one to show it some love, alternating between sucking and licking as his strong hands hold you steady. His wavy hair tickles against your skin, a pleasant sensation.

You bring your hands down to the rim of his long sleeve shirt, lifting it up. He pulls his head back, taking over to lift his shirt over his head. You put your hand against his chest, tracing your finger over his tattoos “you’re beautiful…”

“Hey, that’s my line again,” he kissed your neck playfully, you let out a laugh as it tickled.

The feeling of his body pressed into yours was heavenly mixed with his lips against the delicate skin of your neck. He pecked gentle kisses into you, making his way to your mouth. Bringing his hands to your waist he gently guided you to lay down on the couch, your back pressed into the cushion.

He lowers himself on top of you, holding himself steady against the couch. He seemed nervous as he did, breaths unsteady. You pull his head down to you, locking your lips together. You were addicted to the taste of him, you wanted to stay there forever inhaling him. Smoke and sweet soda intertwined, taking over you. Suddenly though, there were too much clothes keeping you apart.

Your hands instinctively move down his chest, over his stomach and grabbing at his belt buckle. His bulge didn’t even try to hide from you as his cock pressed tightly against his jeans.

His lips brushed yours, breath catching in his throat as you wiggle your fingers underneath the fabric. You fumble with his belt buckle as he moves to nibble at your neck, breath hot against your ear. You slide the belt out, dropping it to the floor with the sound of metal clinking.

You move your fingers back, undoing the button of his jeans, unzipping them gracefully. You can hear the gulp heavy in his throat, adams’ apple bobbing. He moves a hand to your jeans to reciprocate, undoing the button much easier than you had. You feel your thighs start moving instinctively as his hands are now dangerously close to your cunt. Your body shivers, feeling weak beneath his touch, wanting to succumb to all of him.

You shimmy out of your jeans, discarding them along with your socks to the floor rendering you naked below him save for your soaking panties.

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head, flashing his perfect teeth at you in shock, running his tongue over them thirstily, “you’re absolutely soaked for me darling.”

You manage a nod “I want you, so bad,” you look up at him with begging eyes “all of you, tonight.”

He couldn’t say no, not that he ever would refuse you, “anything you want,” he whispers, standing and removing the last of his fabric keeping him apart from you.

He pressed his naked body against yours, heat mingling together. You kiss him, love drunk on his taste and scent, wanting to consume it all.

“Please,” you murmur, your cunt throbbing with every heartbeat.

He moves a hand to your panties, sliding them down over your goosebump covered thighs until they reach the floor and it’s just you and him. His hot, firm body against your cool, shivering, soft one. Bodies now connected by the chapped lips on his pale marble body.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he brings his hand to your wet cunt. He looks to you for confirmation and you nod eagerly. He had fingered you before but you savoured it every damn time.

He wasted no time plunging his fingers inside tonight. The sight of your back arching as you moan makes his cock throb, letting out precum for you as you squirm under his grip. His fingers rub against the walls of your cunt methodologically, his rings adding a new form of pleasure to the experience. He takes his sweet time preparing you for him, making sure you're soaked and stretched.

“Eds,” You say, bringing your hand down to catch his wrist, shivering at the sigh of his fingers inside you “I’m ready.”

“A-are you sure…?” His voice is low.

You nod eagerly “yes, yes please.”

He reaches down into his jean pockets, long forgotten, pulling out his wallet. He reaches into the old worn leather grabbing a small packet, which you eagerly grab from him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to” he reminds you, dropping his wallet to the floor but you’ve already got the condom opened.

“I want to” You look him deep into his eyes, bringing your gentle fingers to touch his shaft.

He groans and throbs against your touch as you roll the condom down over his cock, fitting perfectly. He takes over, lining up his tip with your cunt. He looks at your face, studying your expression and you nod.

Slowly, he slides in until about halfway when you let out a groan of wonderful, tight pressure, your walls clenching against him. He squeezes your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, letting yourself relax against the couch.

“Okay, okay” you breathe deep “you can keep going.”

He slowly starts pushing himself into you again, your toes curl as all of him is finally inside. You both let out a gasp of air, smiling at each other.

“Finally,” you whisper, not intending that to be out loud.

You longed for this since the day you met him, feeling him deep inside you right where he belongs, fitting perfectly inside.

He pushes your hair back away from your face, “you look so beautiful with my cock in you, sweetheart” he wears a proud grin looking down at your naked body.

“Keep going” you urge him along.

He pulls out, not entirely but enough for him to thrust back inside, smoother this time. He sits there for a moment, checking in again.

“Is that okay?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” You nod more confidently this time.

He repeats the process, thrusting in a little faster this time and he’s rewarded with a sweet, high pitched moan. He continues at a steady pace for more thrusts, getting used to the feeling of sliding in and out of you.

He reaches down to a couch pillow discarded to the floor, picking it up. He pulls out for just a moment, lifting your ass into the air, he shoves the small pillow underneath you.

He brings his cock to your entrance for the second time, sliding it in much more easily this time. Thrusting in the second time he brushes against the wonderful spot deep inside you, making you grasp the couch and moan louder this time.

He smiles knowing he found your spot, pulling out and thrusting back over it again “how’s that darling?”

“‘S good, so good” your toes curl against the couch.

He continues ramming his cock against that wonderful spot, and just as you feel your pleasure climb he slows a little.

“How are you doing?” Eddie asks, a little nervous.

“Please Eds” you whimper “shut up and fuck me, and don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He chuckles at your reaction and obliges, having his confidence return “whatever pleases my lady.”

You grasp at his back for dear life then as he no longer holds back. Your body is pressed hard into the couch as he rams into you over and over, “yes Eddie! Right there right there baby,” you encourage, chasing that sweet ecstasy.

He grunts in response, sweating as his cock pushes you along the trail of pleasure, higher and higher.

“Yes Eddie, yes, I need you so bad” Your voice is almost a shout.

Your hands grasp desperately at his firm back, muscles tensing as he fucks you. He pushes you over the edge of orgasm as you let out a breathless moan, mouth draped open as your eyes practically roll back.

Seeing you writhing in pleasure below him was too much, he releases his orgasm inside of the condom with a deep, husky moan that makes your spine shiver.

He lays on top of you, still inside, breathing heavy as his sweat drips onto you. You bring your numb hands up to his head, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, brushing it back and out of his face.

“Wow” you whisper after a moment, enjoying the comforting pressure of his weight against you.

“Wow,” he confirms with a quick nod and you can feel his heart pumping in his chest.

You lay there for maybe minutes that only feel like seconds before he pulls himself out of you. You realise how cold the air is as his body leaves yours, standing up and tossing the used condom in the trash.

“Come here” you reach your hands out beckoning him to come forward.

He obliged almost curiously, as you pulled him by the waist closer to you. Mouth watering, you take his soaking cock into the embrace of your tongue, licking up every last drop of his orgasm. With any other guy before Eddie you honestly hated it, the taste and the feel. But with Eddie, you felt like you couldn’t live without it as your tongue begged for him.

“Okay, okay,” He pulled out when the sensations became too much, lifting himself behind you to snuggle into your back, nuzzling sweetly into your neck.

He pressed his warm body up against you, holding you securely in his grasp.

“Better than the dream?” He asked playfully, kissing your ear.

“Better than my dream” you confirm, sharing a sweet giggle. As he held you tightly then and there, you knew this would be the first time of many.

----

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading, if you enjoyed leave a like/reblog/comment if you feel so inclined, no matter how old/new this fic is when you read it!

My requests are currently OPEN! Turnaround time is usually 1-2 days depending on length <3

Have a great day my lovely reader!

-Wyv

#stranger things eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #wyv fan fics #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #anon request #dinner and a movie first time with EM

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shamelessliarkickapow · 5 months ago

Text

Arrvatarr! The Last Arrbender!

a Zutara pirates AU WIP rated M (fer Me hearties)

Chapter 1, part 2/3

(Go back and read the summary and part 1 here)

The waterbender wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Zuko had seen some waterbenders at the North Pole - distant figures who moved in sync and were all about the same vaguely mannish shape bundled up in their furry parkas.

The waterbender before him now was very obviously a woman, and also very obviously beautiful.

Her hair was tied back on top in a feminine style and decorated with a few blue beads, but the rest of it hung wild and wind-teased, a thicket Zuko sensed he could easily become lost in. Also dangerously enticing was the curvaceous grace of her body as she drew her water back into a ready position. Her features were rounded, sweet, pretty, with large eyes dark as the sea by night and soft-looking lips that tugged upward in a wicked smirk.

If it weren’t for that smirk, Zuko might have forgotten she was also a pirate and attacking his ship.

It was no more than a few heartbeats and a flick of his eyes, scanning an opponent before fixing on her smirking face. Yet even that much lit a stubborn ember in his gut and slowed his mind.

“All we want are your supplies and valuables,” she said, exposing teeth bright and deadly as her ice. “Surrender and we’ll have mercy and let you and your crew keep your miserable lives. Fight-” Those lips stayed ever so slightly parted, still faintly smirking as she paused on the word - and that had Zuko’s heart pounding all the harder. “-and I promise you, I’ll win.”

“We’ll see who comes out on top, thief,” he spat, and then bore down on her with a fresh burst of energy.

For a desperate few seconds, he expected the other pirates to move in on him as well, but they stood back near the gunwale where the swordsman had tumbled, ready and attentive, but clearly just there for the show now that the waterbender had arrived.

And it was a show. She handily quenched and diverted his every strike, swinging her defenses effortlessly into tripping streams and blasts that knocked him back with their force even when he managed to block. Zuko had never fought a waterbender before, and he was clearly at a disadvantage in this fight in no small part because this particular waterbender obviously knew just how to break a firebender’s root. He also didn’t have enough power to fully match her - not at night - but Zuko fought on, fought harder.

He was head-and-shoulders bigger than her, so he knew he had physical strength she didn’t. That was the way to win. He closed the distance between them until they were fighting from just arm’s length away. Any second, she would falter and give him an opening and he would use sheer muscle and speed to subdue her.

Then, the waterbender would be his hostage. Anticipation and smug satisfaction prickled down his spine at the thought. He would grip her with her back pressed to his chest, he decided, with one arm perhaps just beneath her breasts so that he might accidentally feel their weight if she chose to struggle-

Although that was perhaps not… entirely honorable…

…but she was a pirate and was here to rob and possibly kill him!

…not that her attempted crimes would justify being… enjoyed by a man against her will…

The fantasy shriveled back to something more utilitarian.

Her waist then. He would loop his arm around that trim waist and hold her tight to his chest and he would probably like it, but not too much.

And to still her, he would cradle a flame just near enough to her cheek to warm her smooth skin; he would force the other pirates to free his men and get off his ship. Only once they had sailed clear would he release her. She was a waterbender, after all, and wouldn’t have any trouble getting back to her own ship.

So it would be alright to hold this fierce, fine woman against his chest for… just a little longer than entirely necessary.

It was perhaps because Zuko was running all this through the back of his mind that he missed his chance. He made a grab for the lapel of her short jacket, but it slipped teasingly through his fingers. The very tip of his middle finger brushed her tunic, felt the soft warmth underneath. He caught the briefest glimpse of her smirking at him again.

Then she dragged up all the water she had been gathering on the deck as she fought him and raised him up in a blast of ice, pinning him hard against the wall of the observation tower.

“Oouh!” he grunted at the impact. For an instant, all he saw was stars. Then they cleared and all he saw was her, grinning coolly up at him, perching her dainty hands on her hips.

“Looks like I’m on top, firebender. Order a surrender. Unless,” she pouted mockingly, “you’re not actually in command of this ship.”

“Rrh!” He bared his teeth at her and began breathing as deep as he could against the restraining ice, working up his heat to try and blast free. “A prince of the Fire Nation never surrenders! Especially not to jumped-up peasants and filthy brigands!”

Her eyes sparkled in sudden delight. The metalbender snickered a little nastily.

“A prince? Oh, we are gonna ransom you so hard…”

The swordsman rubbed his hands together. “Ooh hoo hoo! Jackpot! I knew all that long pretty hair had to be some kind of status symbol.”

“What long pretty hair? He’s got long pretty hair?”

“Yup. Like some kind of inky waterfall of manliness.” He raised one suspicious - jealous? - eyebrow. “He must condition it a lot. It’s almost too glossy.”

“He’s also got a big scar,” the warrior added more quietly, “on his face.”

The metalbender paused and, as if unable to hold it back, uttered a begrudging little, “That’s pretty rad.”

Zuko hardly heard any of this commentary about his appearance because he was absorbing the implication, noticing the way she never turned her head to look at things so much as to listen. “You’re blind? What kind of sideshow is this?”

“The butt-kicking kind,” she grinned toothily at him, but Zuko kept going.

“A blind earthbender, a girl with fans, a swordsman who doesn’t know how to use the sharp side of the sword, and-”

“Hey! That was a non-lethal maneuver and you’re welcome.”

But Zuko’s glare had fallen on the fourth pirate standing among them… though the term ‘pirate’ seemed especially laughable for him. Certainly, he was dressed up in the same assortment of worn and patched textiles and mixed armor parts, but he didn’t fit in at all. For one thing, he was a child, and he was dramatically smaller than the rest of them. For another, he was smiling cheerfully back at Zuko with absolutely no menace - as if this was all just a grand game.

“-what even are you?” Zuko demanded with a curled lip.

“I’m the rarest bender of all,” the kid declared at once-

Zuko didn’t really notice how all the pirates tensed. He was too focused on the kid, who raised a fist in the air before him and struck an overly piratey pose.

“-an arr-bender!”

Zuko stared back with a distasteful twist of his lips. “A clown. Perfect.”

“Don’t talk to our swab,” the waterbender commanded.

Zuko’s focus returned to her in a snap. She was watching him with - he realized suddenly - a fiercely hungry yet disgusted look. As if he’d become both deplorable and delectable in equal measure. As if she could already taste the sordid profit of his ransom.

Or as if she perhaps had some other sordid use for him in mind…

Zuko’s heart was suddenly in his throat and his good ear grew hot. That… couldn’t be right. It had to be the promise of money. That was it.

“Your royal highness is at our mercy,” she went on, smug and confident. “And unless you want to watch your ship sink with your crew still trapped aboard, you’ll be ordering that surrender now.”

Zuko glowered, breathed deeper, and felt the ice starting to yield to his heat. “I have a better idea. You make your little friend fix the damage she’s done to my vessel and then take your troupe of fools back to whatever backwater spat you out, and I won’t be forced to apprehend you and deliver you to port authorities to face justice for your crimes.”

The pirates shared a stupid little chuckle at that.

“You actually think you could apprehend me? Maybe you missed it, but my victory was pretty decisive just now.”

She folded her arms over her chest and, even through the layers of her jacket and tunic, he could see how her breasts pressed delectably together. Sumptuous. It was all Zuko could do to keep meeting her eye.

“Then again,” she went on snidely, “I guess it was over kind of quickly, wasn’t it? Maybe you really did miss it. So much for that famous firebender stamina, huh?”

Zuko snarled at her, having lost his focus on the ice entirely. “Laugh while you can, harpy. You beat me under the moon. When the sun rises, you’ll find me a harder opponent by far.”

The metalbender snickered, but Zuko didn’t really hear her over the waterbender.

“If you’re really that desperate for a rematch, I’ll take the time to put you on your ass a second time-” She gave him that mocking pout again and he realized how it plumped her little lips even more. The look of it from above was positively indecent. “-but the sun won’t rise for a few hours! And by then you’ll be shackled in my brig, helpless as a baby moose-lion with a hurt paw…”

And she reached up with one hand to stroke a callused finger down the underside of his jaw. Zuko froze, his good ear swiftly going hot enough to sting. The touch terminated in a firm pinch of his chin as she held him just where she wanted him, face down-turned to stare straight into those large eyes that flashed in the moonlight.

“But aren’t you a determined little thing,” she taunted in a low, amused voice.

Internally, Zuko sputtered and crackled, so excited and confused and offended he wasn’t sure how best to lash out. Her touch inflamed him. Her condescension incensed him and teased him with the prospect of escape, of resuming their fight and teaching her just how determined he really was-

-and just how little he really wasn’t.

Outwardly, he scowled and jerked his face up out of her grasp so he could look down his nose at her properly. “Unhand me! How dare you lay your dirty hands on a royal scion, pirate scum!”

“I’ll lay my hands wherever I please,” she smirked - though said hand returned to her hip at present, “especially on things that belong to me. Which, until I get my price from the Fire Lord, includes you.”

Her claim was a scorching tether, reeling him in-

-but Zuko was struck with the chilling knowledge that it was pretty unlikely his father would raise a finger or drop a copper to see him out of this situation.

Not that he needed help!

(The aching, screaming wound throbbed in his chest.)

He would escape on his own!

The ice around him finally melted down enough to fully free his lungs and Zuko blasted the rest of it away with a roar. He had about half a second to savor the waterbender’s startled eyes, her pretty parted lips as he began to drop toward her.

Then steel curled around him like tentacles and slung him right back against the wall.

“Uff!”

“She said maybe later, you cinder-spitting strumpet!” The metalbender was grinning, all too delighted.

Zuko snarled and struggled almost mindlessly in his thwarted rage, but unlike the ice, the steel didn’t give at all. He breathed a plume of fire, driving the waterbender back regardless. She watched him not with fear but with bright, excited eyes. An annoying, insulting challenge that demanded Zuko answer fiercely, fight her, impress upon her the very-seriousness of the threat he posed-

“Incoming, seven,” the metalbender suddenly said. “Looks like they’re the last.”

“Are you sure, Toph?” the warrior asked, frowning thoughtfully.

The swordsman seemed to immediately pick up on what troubled her. “Yeah. That’s an awfully small crew, even for a little ship like this-”

Zuko raged harder against his restraints but the pirates were no longer paying attention to him. They could not have guessed the insult of it, the way his crew had been cut back over the years.

“Hey, I just know what the metal says. And the metal says seven and no more.”

They spread out on the deck, the waterbender shepherding the kid-swab back behind her before pulling up another stream. Zuko watched her with seething resentment - most especially her comforting smile for the kid and the way that jacket splayed open over her tunic-covered breasts when she sank into her ready stance.

She was so… feminine. The other girls were still clearly girls - women, whatever - but the waterbender was soft in a way they were not. Not just her body-

(but also, yes, especially that body)

-but her mannerisms, her grace. She could have easily been any of the thousand village girls Zuko had seen in passing - looking after the children, glancing at the young men and imagining which of them she might like to take for a husband…

…and yet she was also this fierce bender, this force that sought to dominate him, him, a prince of the Fire Nation…

…determined little thing…

The fucking nerve.

She caught his stare and tipped her head to the side, raising one eyebrow.

Well, if she wanted to match arrogance for arrogance, daring for daring, she was about to find herself woefully out of her depth. Zuko gave her a smirk of his own, then drew a great breath and bellowed.

“Look out, Uncle! They know you’re coming!”

He knew from long experience that his voice was loud enough to carry pretty far through this ship. He had thought that perhaps, with advance warning, the formerly great Dragon of the West would devise a strategy that might counter his loss of the element of surprise. He did not anticipate Iroh’s muffled response, though.

“We surrender!”

“What?” Zuko choked. “Uncle! No, we don’t!”

But the old man was already leading out the remaining crew, all their hands raised and unarmed. Admittedly, they weren’t the sort of elite fighting force that might have turned the tide in any case. The navigators, the medic, the cook, and the engineer were all among them.

“Lieutenant Jee,” Zuko barked. “What are you doing?”

Bringing up the rear, the lieutenant turned - and looked up - to meet his eye with an expression of almost apologetic bewilderment. “Sorry, sir. They’ve got us beat.”

“A wise leader can acknowledge when a direct contest is unlikely to end in victory,” Iroh said, casting Zuko a sly glance back over his shoulder.

Zuko heard the unspoken echo of past lessons. Maybe they couldn’t overcome these opponents head-on, but there were other ways to attain victory. He bit back his furious protests and waited.

Iroh, hardly pausing, glanced around the deck at the pinned-down soldiers and the pirates who stood at the ready. “We are clearly outmatched and have been taken completely by surprise. What is it you want, so that we might resolve this peacefully?”

“The usual stuff,” the swordsman shrugged. “Food, medical supplies, undisclosed booty.”

“And we’re taking your prince,” the metalbender grinned, “for ransom. And so Katara can pound him in the rematch he’s so thirsty for.”

Katara. Zuko watched her through narrowed eyes as the syllables of her name beat through his head.

Only, she wasn’t smirking at him now. She was peering at his uncle, and her voice was firm but almost reassuring.

“You and your crew may go free,” she said, “but we’re going to sink your ship. We don’t allow Fire Nation battleships to sail these waters freely.”

“What?” Zuko shouted - and was summarily ignored.

“Technically,” Iroh said with a raised finger, “this is not a battleship, but an old-model voyager. Perhaps you might consider making an exception?”

It was closer to begging than Zuko would have allowed himself to get, even though the ship was kind of his life. It was his transportation, his training ground, his home-

(His prison.)

-His father was not going to give him another ship. He was certainly not going to pay a hefty ransom and then give Zuko a new ship. And that would leave Zuko to, what, wander the Earth Kingdom on foot through largely still contested territory?

But despite the tang of desperation that thought inspired, Zuko had no trouble at all tossing those notions aside. The waterbender, Katara, was shaking her head. She almost did look sorry. Almost.

“Your nation has spread war and hate and grief across the entire world. You don’t get to ask for exceptions from us.”

Zuko scoffed loudly, disgusted. “You want to be a pirate and still take the moral high ground? This is ludicrous!”

When she looked at him now, she did not look sorry at all. She wasn’t smirking, either. She was mad.

“Hey! We’re good pirates, alright? We’ve never once targeted anyone helpless or stolen from anyone who couldn’t afford it. We strictly rob Fire Nation vessels because you’re the aggressors! You’re waging this war and you feel like you have the right to invade traditional Water Tribe territory. As far as the scale of relative morality goes, I’m way up here-” She indicated a place above her head and then, with her other hand, pointed at the deck. “-and princes out on pleasure cruises to survey their conquests are waaay down there.”

“How dare you! You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Iroh cut through the argument with his reasonable calm. “Differences in opinion notwithstanding, your terms are not entirely unreasonable-”

Zuko sputtered in disbelief.

“-however, I would urge you to reconsider your choice of hostage. My nephew is… perhaps not the most lucrative candidate for ransom.”

This was objectively true, but hearing his uncle say the words stabbed Zuko through the heart nonetheless. Yet Iroh did not so much as pause.

“I am.”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #pirate au

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lost-soul-in-time · 10 months ago

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[ CLOSE ] our muses have sex in lotus position, clinging to each other desperately.

(I'm honestly torn between OG or Villain, so dealers' choice? I'm feral over them regardless <3)

@merrick-of-violet

Something about holding Merrick in his arms fanned a flame in his soul he thought he’d never feel.

It didn’t matter the context. Oliver found himself needing to touch her somehow, and keeping his arms wrapped around her smaller frame accentuated the fact she belonged to him. With his chest pressed to her back, it’s easy access to lean down and press his lips to the pale skin that flushes so easily.

Even when she’s seated fully on his cock and grinding down so perfectly against him, there isn’t a moment where he isn’t enveloping her in his arms at all times.

“That’s it,” Oliver encourages with a groan of approval when he feels Merrick rise up to the tip and slam back down with a cry, one hand smoothing up her back while the other grabs her hair with a firm grip. “You always look so beautiful, my little witch.”

His words are strained and bordering on the verge of shaking as he meets every roll of her hips with a thrust into the tight heat around him. The hand in her hair slides down to the nape of her neck and pulls her down to press their lips together, tongues brushing together and taking every pleasured sound the other makes as their own.

“Ahh, Gods, Oliver—” She whimpers, arms draped over his shoulders and dragging her nails along the skin of his back. The pain only intensifies the pleasure, and he can’t help but moan into her mouth, one hand moving down to grab her ass and squeeze hard enough to bruise.

“My name and the Gods shouldn’t coincide together, darling.” He speaks, voice as rough as the way he kills, “One is something saintly, the other is depraved.”

Oliver leans his head down to bite down in between her shoulder and neck, a grunt being punched out of him as she clenches around him and whimpers. When her head falls back with a moan, he grabs her jaw and tilts her head forward once again in order to keep eye contact as he presses his thumb to her clit.

With the way he takes her in, he’s nearly feral in a way a predator wants to devour its next meal.

“Tell me, which one do you believe I am?”

Two fingers increasingly speed up on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and as always, Oliver’s arms wrap around her body and pull her close to his chest as she falls over the edge with a cry of his name. Soon enough, he’ll flip them over and chase after his own release, but for now, all he does is keep her safe and secured in his embrace as he groans and shakes as if he’d fallen apart alongside her.

He catches a glimpse of the marks scattered along her body and smirks. She was completely claimed by him, inside and out. Just as she should be. Always.

#mozart (answered asks)#play something for me? (ask memes)#merrick of violet #𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬. (witch merrick)#Medieval Villain! Oliver #( nsfw. )

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anothanobody · 2 years ago

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Speaking of scars, in c50 mikasa was so conscious of hers and before they had their first time she keeps covering her body whenever their kisses gets so extreme. Their first time is soft with them assuring their love for each other and Eren telling her how perfect she is while kissing every scar in her

Drabble for C50 and this is a little different anon, it continues from my other drabble.

warning: light angst, soft sex, crying, emotional breakdowns, creampie.

He could only look down at the crib that held his child, his flesh and blood, a little bundle of joy he never thought could ever come in this life of despair.

He felt anger at the time he lost and spent away while the woman he loved and their kid lived here alone in isolation for their own good.

He didn't see her during her pregnancy, he didn't see her grow her belly of the third member of their little family, a little Yeager-Ackerman. But he wasn't there to hold her hand at the birth, he wasn't there to care for her craving, to care for her when she was in labor and pain.

He wanted to hate himself, but the more he looked at the child the less possible it felt to feel something like that.

Mikasa was still in the room as he watched their kid sleep.

She felt a bit more conscious of what had happened as soon as they saw each other, the overwhelming feeling of seeing him there and well, she couldn't help herself.

But now, as she observed the lean body he preserved on his time away, she remembered hers, full of scars, old ones and new ones that he had not seen.

She could care less at admitting of feeling insecure, she felt ugly, she knew she wasn't the same as before but more than anything he left her, that scarred deep within her, the thoughts and voices in her head that made her fo crazy during her pregnancy were coming back all in one instant.

Her hand held her robe tight as she slipped out of the room quietly, leaving him alone in his moment.

She returned where she was originally, the living room, she peeked through the curtains and noticed the shadows down the line of trees, and if she focused enough she could hear the horses through the rain.

"Why'd you leave?" He walked towards her, annoyed that she left him.

"They are not them, aren't they?" She asked softly, the lack of response was defining. "Who'd you come with?"

She felt his presence right behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his hands flat on her stomach, she was sure he was trying to know how it wouldv'e felt. He was so close, but all she felt like doing was crying.

He didn't reply. She hated it. She hated how he would always ignore her questions.

"I had a bump days after you left. I wasn't huge during everything, but it was a hassle during labor." Her voice cracked more than a few times. "You could've been there but you left me here... all alone." Her words pained him more than she knew.

"It's Floch and the other guys." He deviated the conversation. "He tracked you down so I could come to you." He closed the curtains, pulling her arms down into his embrace, his face hid in her neck. "I missed you everyday I was away."

She took a deep breath, letting her head fall against his shoulder and chest. As her head turned slightly their lips met once again.

But everything felt much heavier than the spur of the moment of when they first saw each other.

His hand travelled behind her neck, turning her body around with the other till their chests were pressing into one another, only separated by the thin layer of fabric of her robe.

His kiss was full of hunger, the smacking of lips echoed in the warm cabin, her nails dug into her back, her mouth muffling the moans of pain as steam appeared behind him, healing her scratches on him. That's what he does, he heals and erases the scars.

He erases everything, he forgets everything and he leaves.

Something she can't do, she has it all on her skin, making her remember every time a comrade died and she was too late. She can't leave either, she could've but deep down she hoped he would come back to her.

She felt the heat starting to shoot through her body, their lips felt bruised and she wouldn't doubt that if she saw them they would be plump and red because of him.

His mouth moved from her mouth down to her jaw, trailing kisses all the way down her neck, leaving marks behind as he heard her breathy moans, he sucked on her collarbone trying to tug the fabric down a little to make it fall on the ground but it merely slipped to her shoulder, still covering her breasts and most of her arms.

Slowly the two of them were on the floor, her legs spread apart as she made space for him, hovering her as he marked her as he had not done in a year now.

He pulled away looking at the masterpiece of red he left on her skin, he looked all of her, noticing then one of the scars on top of her right breast, his thumb traced it gently only to be pushed away lightly by her hand covering it with her robe.

He frowned in confusion at her action, meeting her eyes who said a milion words in a single second before looking down away from his.

Leaning back to rob her of a kiss, he put his hand over hers, rubbing the back of it till she relaxed and finally got her to let go of the robe. "I want to see all of you." He whispered to her, slowly taking off her robe, eyeing the body under him that told so much, that reminded him that she was alive and breathing.

The hardships they went through together and new scars that meant that their child existed, that they were together, that they were a family. "Eren." She whimpered, ready to cry in all honesty at herself. "Please, I know it's different-" She would understand him-

His lips went over the scars on her stomach, his hands starting to massage her sore breasts as he kissed every scar on her just like he was used to do.

"I've waited so long to do this, to have you in my arms again and kiss every part of your body." He said in between kisses. "It's perfect."

She released a moan at the sudden grip on her mounds, she felt the wetness his mouth was leaving behind every scar and she wanted to correct him.

She wasn't perfect, she heard the men and women, he left her behind because she wasn't enough without a single explanation beside a formal letter to the captain, he left her and that was the only thing that she could be reminded of.

"I'm not, I'm not, 'not" She repeated as he kept kissing, fighting the urge to cry at her words, to beat himself up at the pain he caused.

"You are, and I love you." He looked so sincere as he said those words. "I love you more than you can imagine, and I'm sorry I left you, I could've never imagined that-" He gulped down the sob in his throat. "I can't turn time back, I can't remedy to my mistakes but I need this moment for us, to love you, to cherish you, my Mikasa."

His hand trembles as he brushed the side of her head, leaning his forehead to hers.

"I love you, I can't say it enough to make up the year we lost, but I can try." He smiled weakly, trying his best, that's the only thing he could.

At the lack of reply he felt his heart breaking over and over, the tears slipping down her eyes each felt like a sentence to death. If he knew, if only he knew how things would've been different.

"I thought I was going to wait forever." She managed to say with her weak voice, making his heart throb in his chest. "I waited every day for a sign, for a letter, for a dream from you, nothing ever came. I was going to give up." She admitted with sadness, registering the broken look on his face.

"Our child needs a present mother, not a shell of one that kept waiting and being hollow, I was going to do right for them. I'm sorry." She apologized, she could only lean up to meet his lips in a short kiss. "But I love you so much that some times it feels like that love is going to destroy me."

The admission of her love was all he needed.

The heated kiss resumed, soft and gentle but with the same hunger and need, frustration that was being let out. A hand of his went down to the string of his pants, letting it loose to take out his hardening member.

They messily joined themselves together, he was sinking into her warmth once again, her walls clamping around him at his mere presence.

His thusts were slow but deep, he was gentle just like the first time they had sex years ago. It had the similar intensity of feelings but now it was worse.

With the naive feeling of love there was sadness and sorrow, there was anger and regret.

Their chests and bodies rubbed against one another as he thrusted, his mouth on hers as from time to time they would just say those three words they wanted to hear the most. 'i love you... i love you.... i love you... i love you... please'

Her arms hugged his upper body and when she knew she was going to cum as she was close, her legs wrapped around his waist, keeping his thusts short.

She needed him the closest she could get, she needed him in the most intimate way he could give her and he needed the same, he had to have her as his one more time way before their little paradise was going to end with an outcome he didn't know an alternative but his demise to.

Her loud moans echoed in the small cabin, his grunts low as they could get vibrated with her body. He spent himself in her, he kissed her face, holding her close to his body as he rolled around closer to the fire, holding her on his chest as she fell into her slumber.

Only now he felt the bit of happiness he was stripped off a year ago when he left her, if maybe the founder Ymir came on their side, this time he will be able to witness another life created with his one love.

a bit trashy but i tried, yikes, need to get better.

#anothanobody’s drabbles #c50 au #eremika smut

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