#spare me a little mercy now and then

[epikhightechnology]

I'm gonna draw dr kan crying

I promise

Idk when cause i have like 10 wips already but i'll do it

I have the perfect ref picture for it

He so beautiful and i like drawing sad people

[consciouscarrot]

day 31 - foursome [r.lupin, s.black, j.potter]

poly!marauders x fem!reader

content warnings; fucking filth, barty slander (sorry), bit cringe on the werewolf mentions (sorry again), very unrealistic smut, public vaginal fingering (r receiving), male oral (remus and sirius receiving), bondage with a belt (r receiving), female oral (r receiving), p in v sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, squirting, anal fingering (sirius receiving), lots of pet names (as usual), implied subspace, one mention of drool/dribble, a bit of sirius x remus focused :))

notes; last fic for my first (and hopefully not last) kinktober. only remus for a while, then the boys join later- not much james in this one i’m afraid. longest fic to date by a landslide eek MDNI

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

professor binns was rabbiting on about something you really didn’t care to listen to, more than happy to just copy remus’ notes later on.

you were sat together at the back of the classroom, trying not to doze off at the monotone voice echoing throughout the room. remus’ hand sat steady on your thigh, where it had been practically glued for the past couple days, the full moon rapidly approaching.

he was always more possessive around this time, wanting no one but the boys to as much as look at you, and even then they were on thin ice. it almost always ended up with you spread eagle beneath him, his thick cock pounding into you, impossibly high stamina causing you to be practically immobile by the time he’s satiated.

clenching your thighs together, you snapped out of your lustful daydreams, looking around to make sure no one noticed, when you spotted barty crouch jr staring at you, insufferable smirk on his face as he looked you up and down, eyes very obviously lingering on your tits.

you shifted, trying to turn away from barty’s leering when you felt remus’ scarred hand slide further up your thigh, edging awfully close to the hem of your skirt, his fingers tightening against your flesh in a near bruising grip.

looking at up at him, you saw his gaze locked on barty, eyes narrowed and barely containing the possessive growl you knew his wolf wanted to let out.

“remmy?” you inhaled sharply when his fingers slipped underneath your skirt, teasing along the gusset of your cotton underwear in slow, barely there touches, just enough to get slick to pool out of your cunt, desire creeping up your spine, leaving you near breathless with want, despite the perverted audience.

you bit your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral as you whimpered his name again quietly, looking over to find barty still staring, though his jaw had dropped slightly, focus much lower than it had been before.

“can you keep quiet for me, angel? need to teach junior a lesson,” he said, not bothering to spare you a glance as he pulled your now damp underwear to the side, smirking at the little gasp you let out when the cold air hit your bare cunt.

“mine,” he growled quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, never taking his eyes off barty for a second. you were grateful that remus’ hand covered you, not that he would ever let anyone but the boys see your body.

his fingers slid along your slit, collecting the slippery slick as he pulled your leg atop of his. his digits finally entered your heat, and you grasped desperately at his wrist with both hands, simultaneously wanting him to stop and keep going as he pumped in and out of you, tendons flexing beneath your fingertips.

struggling to maintain your composure, you buried your face into remus’ arm, praying that he’d be merciful and cast a silencing spell. blood pooled into your mouth as your teeth broke through your lip, thin skin splitting painfully as your hips bucked into his touch, high building quicker than usual.

“i want you to look at junior when you cum, if you look away even for a moment, i won’t let you cum. do you understand?” he was finally looking at you when you peeled your face from his arm, all teary eyes and flushed as you nodded, mumbling a quiet ‘i understand’ when he gave you a look.

you met barty’s wide eyes, not failing to notice how the front of his trousers has tented up, body tense as he watched your face crumple as you came, head tipping forward slightly at the sporadic pulsing of your cunt.

you collapsed back into remus’ side as you calmed down, eyes fluttering shut so you were unable to see how after remus pulled his cum coated fingers out of your underwear, he licked them clean, skin glistening with slick and saliva.

you nearly jumped when everyone stood up, panicking that they’d all caught on to the depraved act you’d just committed, only relaxing when remus rubbed your arm, telling you that class was over.

quickly fixing your underwear, he helped you up, your legs trembling from the effort so soon after cumming. you could only stand there helplessly as he packed away your stuff, throwing both your bags over his shoulder as you watched him in a daze.

you could barely think as remus half held you up as you started the walk back to the boy’s dorm, you clinging to his shirt as you tried your best to hurry after him.

you squealed when he shoved the two of you into an alcove, casting a wandless silencing spell before pressing you against the cold, brick wall and kissing you. you moaned into it, his saliva soothing your bloodied lip as he devoured you, tongue sliding against yours.

already feeling needy again, you wiggled against him, willing him to understand what you wanted, melting as his lips trailed over your neck, sucking plum bruises into the flesh, his sharp teeth nipping at the tender skin.

“oh- remmy, please,”

“shh, i know,” he said as he pulled away, undoing his belt, “need to feel your mouth on me, baby.”

you nodded mindlessly, his fingers pressing down on your shoulders until you dropped to your knees, placing your hands on your thighs obediently as you waited for his further instruction, watching with eager eyes as he pulled out his throbbing cock, tip red with arousal, a small glob of pre dribbling down his slit.

he fisted at your hair, clasping it into a makeshift ponytail before using it to guide you closer, hips jumping in suspense. leaning forward, your tongue swirled around his tip, the salty taste of his pre exploding on your tongue, making you whimper. he groaned low at the vibrations, muttering sweet yet filthy praises as his head tilted back against the stone.

dark eyes bored into yours as you took him down your throat, never looking away from eachother, even as you choked around him and tears ran down your face, cooling your heated cheeks.

“oh fuck- gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours- so close- so- oh,” his hips stilled, cum spilling onto your tongue with a drawn out moan, fingers digging into your scalp.

he nearly came again when he opened his eyes, the sight of you sat so prettily before him, tongue sticking out to show him the way his pearly cum coated the pink muscle, smiling softly with dilated pupils and oh so eager to please him.

“shit- good girl, you can swallow now,”

you nearly beamed at that, swallowing happily as he pulled you up into his arms, pressed your bodies together to kiss you again, the taste of himself on your tongue making his dick twitch as he put it away.

~

you barely made it back to the dorm, having to stop every so often to exchange sloppy kisses and dry hump eachother, just to ease the tension until the need to feel each other’s bodies was satiated for a moment.

he opened the door for you, finding the room empty, and you realised that james and sirius were most likely going to be late back as they’d be coming from quidditch practice.

you turned to remus, finding him watching you, back leant against the door.

“strip and get on the bed,” he said, leaving you no room for arguments as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.

you walked over to his bed, ripping off items of clothing as you move, before crawling up to kneel again, waiting patiently for him.

he spent a few minutes just watching you, observing your every tic, the way you breathed heavily, mouth slightly parted and cheeks rosy, the way your breath hitched when he began to walk over to you, loosening his tie and undoing his belt again, wrapping it around his rough palm.

his free hand cupped your face, thumb gliding over your glossy lips as he smiled at you, pressing the digit into your mouth, humming at the way you suckled at it, lids fluttering in pure bliss.

"what's your safe word, sweetheart?" he pulled his thumb out with a wet pop, smearing your spit back over your lips as you mumbled against him.

"yellow for slow, red for stop,"

"good girl, now lie back for me,"

once you were flat against the bed, he flipped you over, pulling your hands behind your back to tie your wrists together with his belt, tight enough to make it hurt just enough for your mind to go fully spacey.

satisfied with the bonds, he gripped your hips, tugging them up so that you were on display for him, cunt exposed and face pressed into the sheets, facing the closed door.

slick had poured down your thighs, smearing across your skin from all the dry humping and walking. he kneeled down on the bed before gently blowing air onto your puffy cunt, chuckling when you pushed back on the feeling, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

giving you no warning, he shoved his face into the mess between your thighs, eating you out from behind. you cried out, unable but needing to grip at his hair and pull him into you. he lapped at your arousal before drawing your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly at the sensitive nub, holding you down as you writhed and kneading at whatever skin he could reach.

you were a mess of constant whimpers, your high building up quicker than you could cope with. but, just as you were about to fall apart, he pulled away, your orgasm falling just right outside your reach.

“no, no please-, i was good! no-,”

remus watching your cunt clench around nothing, even more slick dribbling out, although now it had turned thicker and opaque, just how he liked it.

“you’re creaming f’me already, baby? i don’t even have to try and your cunts all messy,”

tears streamed down your face and you begged him to make you cum, begged him to make you feel good, making desperate promises to do anything he wanted, anything at all.

“shh, it’s okay, need to feel you cumming round my cock, ‘kay?”

you nodded, just happy that you were getting what you wanted.

he pulled his cock out again, still damp with your saliva as he rubbed his tip against your puffy cunt before pushing in. you always took him so well, tight walls hugging him like a glove, pulsing to accommodate his length, cunt almost as eager to please as you were.

you mewled as he started fucking you, one of his feet up by your head for leverage, pounding into your sloppy hole. you were so close already, only needing a few thrusts to tip over the edge, your thighs trembling and fingers trying to grasp at anything behind you.

you screamed when he didn’t stop, gushing around his cock as you’re immediately sent into another orgasm, his fingers swirling on your oversensitive pearl. you tried to squirm away, mouth open in a silent scream as you panicked at the overstimulation.

he hushed you, groaning at the way you clenched down on him before he pressed his weight onto you, cementing you to the mattress and biting into your shoulder to keep you grounded.

you were both getting close again, eyes rolling back, his fingers slid up your back to the base of your scalp, gripping at your hair, pain and pleasure swirling together as you came again, squirting so forcefully that his cock was forced out of you.

“this pretty cunt is mine,” he growled, pushing back in just in time to coat your walls in his cum, walls fluttering around him at the noises that came from remus’ mouth.

you sighed, beginning to relax now that you thought you were getting a break, thinking he was going to stop and pull out any second.

you started sobbing when reality hit you, his hips never slowing. you were so overwhelmed and feeling almost too good, his tip hitting your g spot perfectly on every thrust, clouding your head in a fog so thick that you wouldn’t be able to get out of it on your own, completely gone under his touch.

“i know, i know, bunny. doing so well, that’s it, sweet thing,”

you’re a complete mess beneath him, shaking violently as you babbled, unable to form proper words or sentences, nipples brushing harshly against the sheets.

you barely noticed the door opening, both james and sirius entering wide eyed to the display of you being pounded into the mattress, looking at them all glassy-eyed with an empty head.

“are you two just going to stand there like muppets or are you going to join us?” remus quipped, moaning loudly when you squirted again.

snapping out their daze, sirius quickly locked the door behind him before they scrambled over, cocks already chubbing up.

james went over to remus, rubbing at your back as he intently watched the strings of slick joining your skin as the latter thrust his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping and lewd, wet squelches filling the room.

sirius however, went straight over to your head, kneeling down next to you with concern wrenching his features, carbon black eyes piercing into your teary ones.

“you okay, lovebug? doing so good for rem,” he said quietly, more than well aware of how remus could get at this time. he stroked your sweat-damp hair out of your flushed face, ignoring the way his cock was throbbing in his trousers at your uncontrolled noises, completely pliant and docile.

unable to speak, remus luckily took mercy and answered for you, “she’s juusst fine, aren’t ya, sweet thing?”

you nodded into the sheets, james testing the waters a he ran his hands strayed from your back, squeezing at whatever flesh remus allowed him to.

sirius planted kisses over your face, murmuring praises to you sweetly. he loved these moments with you, getting to be the one to comfort you whilst you were flying high on pleasure. he kept talking you through it as remus came again, soothing you when you whimpered at remus pulling out to let james have a go, leaving nothing to stop the mixture of his and your cum to dribble out of you, trickling down your sore thighs.

remus undid his belt from around your wrists, rubbing at the reddened skin as he encourage james to take his place, watching as the latter pushed into your heat, whining at the warmth of you.

“easy now, she’s tired,”

“she feels so good,” james grabbed your ass, fingertips digging into the soft skin as he started thrusting into you, starting out slow and controlled before he gave up trying to hold back, fucking you so hard you could barely breathe.

you just about managed to bring your aching arms up, reaching for sirius, he brought his hands to meet yours, thinking that’s what you wanted, only to lurch over at the way you palmed over his trousers, fingers fiddling with his zip.

“please?” you whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“okay, okay fuck- think you can take me in your mouth, darling? yeah? okay,”

sirius bit back a groan at the way you were already salivating at the sight of his cock, drool slipping out the corners of your mouth as your tongue lulled out, looking up at him as you waited for him.

you let out the prettiest little noises around his cock, sending vibrations through him making him shudder as remus came up behind him, guiding him to lean back and let him undress him.

you hummed in satisfaction, watching remus tease at sirius’ nipples and suck at his neck whilst both their eyes were on you, muttering filthy things as james continued to fuck you, all desperate thrusts of hips and sweet moans.

“good girl, taking siri so well,”

“yeah, she’s so good- more please- oh,”

sirius’ balls slapped against your wet chin, his hips bucking into your mouth when you increased the suction, tongue swirling at the underside of his cock, gagging slightly at the intrusion.

james pulled your torso up a little, tugging you up so that sirius could fuck your mouth easier, strong arms working to hold you up, “there you go, feeling good, baby?”

you nodded the best you could with a cock between your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the noises that echoed around the room.

sirius’ cock twitched in your mouth when remus’ hands started wandering, watching the way he cleaned up you spit coated chin with his fingers, before sliding his hand down to sirius’ ass, gently stroking over his rim, causing him to buck into your mouth harshly.

“fuck- rem i can’t- cant take both,”

“yes, you can pads, let us make you feel good, hm?”

sirius had no chance to object before remus was pushing a finger inside, prying open his tight hole and pressing against his sweet spot, making sirius toss his head back against remus’ shoulder.

sirius’ hips bucked wildly into you, moaning at the way you spluttered around him, spit drooling onto his hard cock. he didn’t last long before cumming straight down your throat, the dual sensations of your mouth on him and remus’ fingers inside too much at once.

whimpering as you continued to suckle on his sensitive head, his legs gave out, the only thing holding him up being remus’ free arm wrapped around his waist. the lycanthrope’s fingers slowed to a stop as he gently pulled the boy’s cock out of your mouth, before guiding him to lay down next to you.

you brought a shaky hand up to sirius’ beside you, clutching at him for dear life as james pushed you head back into the linen sheets, hips speeding up more than you thought possible.

the warmth deep inside your belly was spreading, making your toes curl, unable to do anything but cry and take it, screaming in pleasure.

your thighs were burning from exertion, jaw aching and cunt oversensitive, but you didn’t care, you weren’t even capable of caring about anything other than cumming at that moment, the feel of james’ tip hitting your g-spot rendering you cock drunk.

“you’re so tight, lovie. need to feel you cum, m’so close- oh,”

remus knelt down beside you, taking sirius’ place as he murmured to you, “being so good f’me, darling. just one more and you’re mine again. cum on jamie’s cock for me and i’ll spend the next 24 hours worshipping your body.”

you instantly fell apart, nails digging into sirius’ skin as your eyes rolled back, body shaking so hard that james was half worried he’d broken you, before he too came, flooding your insides with his seed, your pulsing cunt milking him for all that he’s worth.

you both collapsed, lying in a pool of your own bodily fluids, a mixture of everyone’s cum and sweat, spit and tears. you couldn’t find it within yourself to care, still mewling even though no one was touching you anymore, aftershocks nearly enough to make you cum again.

using what little strength you had left, you managed to peel open your eyes, finding remus’ gaze still locked on you, lips pulled into a smug smirk as he mouthed to you, “mine.”

he planted a long kiss to your sweaty forehead, before he allowed sirius to pull you into him, your tits pressed against his chest as you buried your face into his neck, dark curls tickling your nose, his arms enveloping you.

you felt remus stroke at your hair, still knelt on the floor, as james joined the cuddle, curling up behind you with a worn out sigh, “what triggered that then?”

you whined into sirius at the question, worrying that it would set remus off again, the former’s large hands rubbing soothingly at your back.

“junior was leering at her,” he growled, tension filling the air as his fist subconsciously gripped at your hair, making you go rigid, “he wanted to touch her.”

“we can deal with it tomorrow,”

“yeah moony, let’s just look after our girl for now,”

remus hummed, seemingly content with that, fist relaxing as he pressed a few apologetic kisses over your head, waiting until you hummed in acknowledgment to speak, voice low with thick desire.

“it’s my turn again, sweet girl,”

despite being so worn out, you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched at that, warm cum oozing out with a sleepy moan.

you were the lamb to his wolf, helpless prey only there to entertain him, to please him; and he would never let you go.

[pochaccoups]

beggin’ on his knees — kim mingyu

pairing — kim mingyu x f!reader

summary — mingyu looks good when he’s on his knees.

wc — 2k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, slight sub!mingyu (he’s a big puppy in this), oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, not beta read sry

“Please?”

“No, Mingyu.”

“Pleaseee?”

“Mingyu, stop.”

“But… why not?”

“Because I’m still mad at you. No.”

You don’t spare your boyfriend a glance as he stands in the doorway, your gaze thoroughly fixed on your book—your book that you haven’t read a sentence of since he’d walked in.

“But you always let me eat you out before bed.”

You heave out a sigh, dragging a hand down your face in exasperation. “Well, right now I don’t want you to.”

A lie. You know damn well that letting him give you an orgasm or two would quell your infuriation at him, but you’re too stubborn. Mingyu is like a puppy—giving in to his sulking and pouting, however irresistible, only teaches him how to get his way. If you look up, you’re certain you’ll find a pair of pathetic, glistening eyes staring at you, and it’ll become so, so much harder for you to keep your foot down.

“But baby,” he says, so soft, in a way that personifies his affection for you. That one word in that tone of his is the first strike to your heart. “I can show you how sorry I am. Please?”

“Mingyu, I already-”

Finally he gets you to look at him when he beelines over to your side of the bed, takes your hand in both of his, and drops to his knees on the floor.

“Please, baby, I’m begging you. I need to taste you so bad.” He doesn’t hide the desperation in his voice, nor the pleading look in his stupid, round, pretty eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you for work. I’ll do better. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, and I’ll start with this. Please?”

It’s true that perhaps you’re being a little too cruel out of pettiness—you know his schedule is mostly out of his hands and how hectic things get for him. But there are times where things are in his hands, and still he ends up staying for drinks with the boys a little too long for your liking.

He looks fucking good like this though. In fact, your pussy throbs a little, seeing him like this for you—at your mercy. Despite the pinpricks of hurt he’d given you, you can’t find it in you to send him away.

“Fine,” you say, and he’s about to pounce on you until you stop him with a hand to his chest. “No, no. Stay there for me.”

Mingyu watches intently as you sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed so that he’s sat neatly in between them. Unable to wait any longer, he’s reaching for the top of your pyjama pants, tugging them down your legs so hastily you’d think he’s running out of time.

It’s a wonder how he has the control to not tear your underwear off and dive straight in—instead he’s pressing soft kisses that drip with apology all over your thighs, letting his giant hands warm your skin as they roam over your legs. It’s a view you wish you could imprint into your brain forever: your buff, six-foot-three boyfriend on his knees, worshipping you.

It’s only when your hips shift ever so slightly, when Mingyu senses the very first shred of impatience manifesting within you, does he settle his face right where you need him. He presses all the way up against your covered cunt, nudges at your clit with his nose and prods at your hole with his tongue, fabric be damned.

“You begged for this, at least do it right,” you scold, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

Mingyu smirks. Of course he does—you’re proving him right. His hands envelop yours as you shove your panties down your legs, and before they can even hit the floor, the wet warmth of his tongue is licking at your awaiting pussy.

You’re kind of stupid, you realise, because why on earth were you refusing this in the name of being petty? He’s sucking on your clit and you’re already whining his name, while his fingers sink into the fat of your thighs and pry your legs open even wider.

Mingyu lacks both mercy and shame when he gets his mouth on you. He becomes depravity in human form, sounds of him slurping and spitting filling the room as he becomes drunk on your taste. His tongue is everywhere, slipping up and down through your folds, playing with your clit until your eyes are rolling back and you’re grabbing fistfuls of his dark hair.

“Mingyu, f-fuck,” you sigh, your spine curling off the bed, your hips rutting against his face. “Need more.”

And Kim Mingyu will never fail to give you exactly what you want, so he circles your sticky, drooling hole with his finger and slides it inside you. And his fingers are so thick that just one alone makes you shiver as it curls up into your sweet spot, and combined with the nonstop lapping of his tongue at your clit, it’s no question why there’s heat pooling deep in your core.

Then he does stop, much to your dismay. Well, he only pulls his mouth an inch away so that he can ask you with his glistening, pouty lips, “does it feel good, baby?”

“Yes-fuck,” you gasp as his finger grazes repeatedly at the most sensitive patch inside you. “Be a good boy and put your big mouth to use though.”

He obeys you without a moment’s delay.

Mingyu drinks in all your noises—the wetness of his saliva mixed with your arousal, the squelch of his finger pressing into you, and your shaky, breathy moans that are a barely coherent mixture of curses and his name. It’s your high, and yet he’s chasing it, too.

He lives for the long, high-pitched whine you let out when he slips another finger inside. He’s pumping them in and out of you with such vigour that his bicep starts to bulge, and when you pull on his hair for dear life he feels his cock jump in his sweats. At the same time his mouth is ruthless as he practically makes out with your pussy, and you rock your hips absentmindedly until you’re riding his face, and fuck, you’re so hot that Mingyu thinks he might cum untouched.

“God, Gyu, just-just like that,” you keen, melting under his gaze that’s both concentrated and hazy. He’s drunk and he’s focused, tuned into your body and the way your walls clench around his fingers, telling him you’re almost there.

It takes just a few more thrusts of his fingers and swipes of his tongue before your moans reach a crescendo, and the heat in your stomach erupts with vengeance.

While your thighs tremble on his shoulders, Mingyu pulls his fingers out from your soaked heat and brings them straight to his mouth. He makes a show of sucking your juices off them, moaning like it’s essence from the sweetest fruit. To him it is.

“I’m hard now,” he says in a whisper.

“So?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him. Him still kneeling; his fluffy hair a mess; his cheeks and chin drenched with your cum; his sweatpants a tent. It’s so pathetic it makes your pussy even wetter.

“Can I put it in? Please?”

You pretend to ponder it for a second—he just looks so cute when he’s desperate for pussy. Then you become aware of how empty you are, and give Mingyu his next command: “kiss me first.”

He’s up now, pinning you underneath him as he does exactly what you ask of him. His lips are sloppy against yours, his tongue weaving its way inside your mouth. He’s kissing you with such want that it’s messy, disgusting almost, but your boyfriend will sooner die than not put his entire soul into something.

His heavy cock prods against you, just as shameless and imposing as Mingyu himself. It’s sticky with precum and so hard that it’s practically throbbing with need, and you wish you were stronger than this but you need him stretching you out now.

“Fuck me, Mingyu,” you mumble against ravenous lips.

He slides home immediately, until his balls are warm against your ass. Then he hikes your legs up on his shoulders and starts to pound away at you like he has something to prove.

The sounds he makes when he gets inside you should be embarrassing to him, but they’re not. Much less to you—hearing him whimper like a clingy puppy in your ear makes you soak all over his cock. You know people look at him and his towering height and his bulging arms and they see strength, control, dominance, and what they’ll never know about is this—that your pussy reduces him to a desperate, whining mess.

Every snap of his hips has you gasping, sends you reaching for the sheets and his hair. Now that he’s finally inside you, he’s taking full advantage of it, because God forbid you think he’s slacking after begging with his heart and soul. No, no—he’ll show you how sorry he is, make up for every minute of your time that he’d wasted, and he’ll do it by fucking you into next week, filling you up (if you let him), and tending to you like you’re royalty after.

“Harder, baby,” you sigh, even though you know that word is dangerous territory with him, but his thrusts had slowed a little in his pondering about how sorry he was.

But oh, does he deliver. More than delivers. Mingyu leans forward, folds you even more in half until your thighs burn, but when his cock is buried so deep in your guts the pain becomes dull. He fucks into you with every ounce of muscle he has, leaning his weight on you so that every stroke breaches past your cervix and touches your soul itself.

Sweat beads on his forehead. His cheeks are lightly flushed; his toned, tanned skin gleaming. Your boyfriend looks divine as he ruins your cunt, as though this is what he was born to do: to please you. You want him to keep splitting you open, to stretch you out endlessly. You want his warm, sticky load inside you even more.

“H-hah, Gyu, baby…” you pant.

“Yeah? Feels good?” he asks, hissing as you clench down on him at the sound of his voice.

“Mm, love the way you fuck me,” you moan. “But I want your cum inside me.”

Your words make his hips stutter. He bites down on his bottom lip hard, willing himself to not cum then and there.

“Want you to cum first,” he whines through gritted teeth, and you near scream when his thumb finds your clit to rub at it, quick and precise in the way that you stand no chance against.

Only a few more hard strokes is all it takes for your orgasm to come hurtling towards you, tearing through your whole body and making you sob Mingyu’s name while his fingers and his hips never let up.

The way your walls clench and gush around his cock as you cum is ruthless. It’s a vice, selfish grip, one that entices him to his own climax, because there’s nothing that gets Kim Mingyu off more than making the love of his life cum.

“Cum for me, Gyu. Make me happy,” you whisper in the aftershock of your orgasm.

He gives you exactly what you want, driving himself impossibly deep inside you and giving a strangled moan as you milk every last drop of his seed out of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he collapses on top of you. Even when he’s dry, his cock twitches, still, and you think it’ll be a while before he pulls out of you.

You hum, warm and content. Your hand reaches for Mingyu’s hair, fingers brushing through it as he comes down. His face is buried in your neck, and his soft, warm breaths against your skin threaten to lull you to sleep.

Eventually he mutters out, “I’m sorry again.”

You can’t help but stifle a laugh. He’s good at grovelling, that’s for sure.

“You’re making dinner for the rest of the week,” you tell him. “And if you have a late schedule then you’re ordering me something. And if you do leave me hanging again I’ll kill you. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you still love me?”

“Yes, Mingyu, I love you.”

[stellawish]

swiss roll

summary: satoru trying to help his son to learn how to roll over genre: fluff, domestic life warnings: none dad!gojo x mom!reader

“Here we go, buddy.” Sitting on the floor in Haru’s nursery, Gojo gently laid his son on his belly. The baby started to wiggle his short legs while looking at the colorful animals printed on the mattress.

Satoru began to gently massage the baby’s small back. Using rubbing motions with his hands, he drew a line from the shoulders to the lower back. In response, Haru started babbling.

The contrast between your son's small back and Gojo's large hands looked comical. Watching this, you giggled.

As first-time parents, you are always learning and seeking new information, whether from books or various websites.

Recently, you caught Satoru watching a tutorial video. "Massage helps strengthen the back muscles and aids in digestion," said the woman in the video about helping your baby learn to roll over.

Satoru continued with the same gentle movements of his thumbs, drawing lines in opposite directions as he moved lower.

When he finished, he turned the baby onto his back and said in a mock-serious voice, "Now the real training begins. This time, don’t expect any mercy."

Your 4-month-old boy showed his gummy smile, and unable to resist, Satoru kissed his son’s round cheek.

Your husband took Haru's short legs and lifted them into the air, directing them towards his tummy. Then he lowered them down and repeated the movement again.

You were lying next to them on your side, resting your hand under your head and watching the scene with a broad smile. “By the way, Toru, Megumi texted me and said they’ve arrived.”

Megumi and his friends went to summer camp for a few weeks. When he first told you about this plan, both you and Gojo were surprised, as Megumi isn’t very social and prefers spending time alone.

So, his decision to attend summer camp delighted both of you. “I’m glad he’s opening up and coming out of his shell,” you said.

“They’re good kids,” Gojo added.

“There's a great spot nearby that sells some awesome strawberry Swiss rolls. I should get him to bring some home.”

You watches him simultaneously lifting the little boy by his arms and placing him in a sitting position. Satoru read somewhere that such activities strengthen the baby’s muscles and help them learn to roll over independently.

“There you go, little one.” As he turned Haru onto his back, Satoru tickled the baby’s neck, making him wiggle.

Next, your husband, carefully supporting the baby’s side, flipped him onto his tummy and then back onto his back, repeating the action once more.

For the last time, Gojo exaggeratedly sighed and, in a playful manner, said, “Good job, buddy. You did great.” He praised his son. “Now tell me, where did you get your athleticism from, hmm?”

You giggled. “You, my little Swiss roll.” Gojo tickled the baby’s belly and blew raspberries, causing Haru to wiggle and giggle.

Satoru decided to spare the baby and pulled away with a big smile. “Okay, now which book do you want to read today?”

He flipped Haru back onto his tummy and stood up while you gently stroked the baby’s back.

Gojo chose a book and lay down on the other side of Haru. He opened the first page and placed the colorful interactive book in front of his son, encouraging him to explore it.

You stretched your left arm out and accidentally pressed a toy, which squeaked “meow.”

This distracted Haru from the book, and he turned his head toward you. Unable to find the source of the sound, he tucked his right arm underneath himself and, lifting his plump left thigh, ended up on his back.

You and Gojo looked at each other in shock, questions in your eyes. “Did you see that?” your lips stretched into identical smiles. “Oh, my baby, what a good boy. Can you do that again, hmm?” You both began to shower your chubby little one with kisses, eliciting his laughter and making his cheeks rosy.

While you all cuddled together, praising your little one, you locked eyes with Satoru. Despite the genuine joy for your son’s first victory, you saw the reflection of your own thoughts in his eyes: Don’t grow up too fast, son.

more dad!gojo HERE

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[mide404]

Greetings,

A life lost and dreams destroyed, a smile gone forever, and a joy shattered and torn apart by war. My family has become immobilized, helpless, with no options or means. Here, where war has imposed its burdens on what's left of my family, we are forced to live what we cannot bear to live and endure what we cannot possibly endure. We are living torments harsher than the harshest prison tortures, crying over the thresholds of our far, destroyed home, our paradise that slipped through our fingers, the dearest thing stolen from us by this war.

Here, my little sister describes her suffering living in displacement camps, and this is what Alaa told me during a phone call:

"We have become nothing, without a home, without shelter. I live in a cramped space surrounded by nylon that doesn’t protect you from the summer heat or the winter cold, doesn’t provide privacy. Here, where there’s no privacy at all, you don’t have the basics of life even for an animal, so how can humans live here? Imagine, the details are painful, crushing. There is no space to sit or sleep, no room for rest or deep breath. Life here is impossible by all measures. We are now living the impossible, forced, with no one to look at us with compassion or mercy, no one to support us, as if everyone united to torment and oppress us.

Streets you've never seen, know nothing about, in a place you only knew by name. It's as if the earth isn’t the same earth, nor the sea the same sea, nor even the air the same air. It feels like you can't breathe here, like a fish taken out of water, not dead but the water is far away, struggling with its soul, unable to escape. You walk like a lost person who doesn’t know their destiny in a maze, not knowing its beginning or end, thrown in the middle without a word, no hand extended, no cries heard.

I can't describe what we are living through, even the pictures didn't move anything, as if everyone is in a coma, no one sees, hears, or speaks. Death has become our greatest wish, and daily we pray for God to take us to His side and spare us from the cruelty of His servants. Is there a way out for us? 😔💔 I don’t know."

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[luvly-writer]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: So originally, this was supposed to be only ONE shot...but I suck at making those so it will be a TWO shot. I am writing the second one right now as well so it will be posted at the same time.

Warnings: Neglectful family, long chapter

Part 2 // Part 3

---

These walls suffocated you. They truly did.

At first, when your mother had announced that Damian, your twin brother, and you would be leaving your home to live with your father, you were kind of excited. As much as Nanda Parbat was a home to you, you were excited to see the world, and finally feel free. Being the "spare twin" certainly allowed you to have more freedom than Damian growing up. Both of you were trained exactly the same way, yet, whilst your grandfather prefer to hone your brother's skill in other areas, you had the flexibility of running around and doing as you went. But no bird is truly free if they still live in a cage. So...

You were excited and that excitement lasted precisely two weeks. Damian and you had been close all your life, being twins kind of facilitated that. You trained together, ate together, read together, you spent the majority of your life together. You had each other's back; he was your solace and companion, your best friend. No one else in the world would ever get you like him. That's part of the reason Talia sent both of you. Growing up, no one could ever separate the two of you, not even your grandfather....well, that was until a certain Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne entered your lives.

Unlike your twin, you had no interest in being part of the vigilante business. It was well known that both of you were different in your character. Where Damian was brash, you were softer; he was ruthless, you were diplomatic; he was violent and cunning, you were elegant and merciful. That distinction was what made your grandfather direct Damian to be the heir of the Demon head. You were glad that you were away from the League as it would help you create an identity that didn't directly come from them and that became a problem.

Sure, it was two that came to stay at Wayne Manor, but only one was integrated into the family. It was disappointing, to say the least. Bruce favored Damian and whenever you tried to call him out on it, he'd blame it on the fact that Damian needed more help. As if it wasn't the two of you that came from the same place. Sure, you were tame and gentle, but you were just as Damian. The League didn't train an assassin and a princess. No, they had honed two weapons. Dick followed Bruce in that same thought process and it got even worst once he had to fill in as Batman temporarily. As much as he clashed heads with Damian, Tim enjoyed going par to par with his new brother. Jason knew both of them back when he was resurrected. You loved him as if he were your brother as well and you thought that it was reciprocated...until you roamed the halls of the manor and realized he never joked around with you the same way he did with Damian. You wanted to blame it on the fact that they were boys and maybe that got them to get along better...but it wasn't just that was it...Cassandra loved to bond with Damian because they were both child assassins but so! were! You! Stephanie loved to ruffle his hair and call him Little Bat, and Barbara would sit and try to explain modern terminology with him and laugh when he found it absurd. It didn't make sense.

Both of you went through the same thing, yet you had to understand why he needed more help and attention and love than you. It devastated you. You had read online that it was good to find healthy outlets to let out your frustrations, so you decided to find extracurriculars. Maybe if you required attention, it would be given to you, right? I mean, Robin was Damian's extracurricular in a way, right?

You took up ice skating. You found beauty in the sport and given that you had training, you were excelling at it. Given that your father was a busy man, he was never one to take you to practice. He just paid for the coach, the team, the skates, the outfits, and all the fees necessary. Alfred, may he be blessed, was your solace and would often be found taking you to practices and would stay for support. You had great potential for someone of such a young age and your coaches would never fail to remind you. Your first competition came and you were through the roof with excitement. You would talk Damian's ear off, who always made time for you regardless of what was happening around the house. You would mention it in passing to anyone who would engage in even the smallest of conversations with you. You went as far as printing the competition flyers and sticking them on Bruce's desk, the Batcomputer, and the fridge. Surely, no one would forget.

Oh, you poor thing...no one came besides Alfred. Damian and Bruce had some sort of mission; Dick was in Bludhaven; Jason was too busy with the Outlaws, Tim had a Wayne Enterprise meeting, Barbara had made plans that day with Stephanie and Cass and they couldn't be changed. Had they not heard you? Did they not see the flyers? The only one had the decency to apologize was Damian, but he was your brother, your twin, of course, he didn't mean to miss it. You had won gold and your teammates had invited you to eat out. When you ran all the way to where your family was supposed to be, you only saw Alfred with a beautiful flower bouquet.

Having seen your disappointed face, he quickly made a mental note to scold everyone later tonight and tried to cheer you up.

"Marvelous, miss Y/n! Simply wonderful. I don't think I had ever been delighted by such a choreography before" He praised and you took it to heart, giving him a smile. That night he allowed you to stay later, having one of your teammate's mother bring you back from the restaurant.

This didn't change over time. Competitions and practices with Alfred only. After that first competition, Damian would try to at least go to your practices but that lessened as time passed and he was needed as Robin. Forgotten competitions turned to forgotten birthdays it seemed. After a year, when your birthday came around, you were ecstatic knowing that your favorite day of the year and you would celebrate it with your favorite person in the whole world. That day, your friend's parents had asked Alfred if they could surprise you in the morning with something special and then leave you in the Manor during the afternoon so that you would have time with your family. Seeing how loved you were outside of your family, Alfred agreed.

You were positive that your day was going to be perfect. Damian had woken you up and you both exchanged gifts first thing in the morning, just like you did in the League. He had gotten you a new pair of skates and you had gotten him a bunch of new art supplies. You ate breakfast with Damian and forced Alfred to sit with you both and eat as well. You went along with your day, having Alfred tell you that you had a special surprise. He had taken you to the park where your friends and their parents awaited you with a surprise picnic. Soon the afternoon neared and you were in the limo telling Alfred about the wonderful morning you were having. To into in your story, you failed to see his worried and pitiful gaze. As you went into the Manor, hands full of gifts from your friends and cheeks hurting from laughing and smiling so much, you were met with a sight that broke your heart.

Damian blowing the candles of a cake with your entire family surrounding him, clapping and singing. Your face, just like your heart, fell. You look up at Alfred and whisper, "Did you know?"

To which he responded in a soft voice, "No, my dear, I was helping your friends plan your party. The bake, I did do, but I thought we would wait for you..."

With eyes glazed with unshed tears, you nodded and it took seeing Damian's small smile as Dick bearhugged him to know...you weren't part of them.

You had begun to separate yourself from them and Damian had noticed. He had tried to apologize for your birthdays but you wouldn't listen. What kind of person would forget their twin? After some time, he stopped trying. The ridge between you had started to grow and if you were being stubborn, he wouldn't waste his time.

---

Weeks passed. Months passed. And little old Y/n had been forgotten. Dick was always too busy and only knew how to say "Not now, kid." Jason would wave to you on occasion. You weren't sure if Tim was even aware that you still lived there. Cass only spared you a glance. Stephanie looked pained if you ever tried to talk to her. Barbara was too awkward around you. Bruce had never really tried much with you and that was clear from the start. Damian felt distant each day more and more. Your only solace was ice skating, Alfred, and your mom. Weeks after your birthday, you had sneaked out and contacted your mother. She arrived as soon as she could. She would never deny her baby girl. I mean, the world always wanted Damian, but she, she was hers. There, Y/n told her everything as she broke down into tears. She had been the perfect daughter and sister, yet it would never matter cause they didn't care. Talia, clearly bothered by this, promised to talk with Bruce and Damian yet Y/n reassured her that Alfred had tried so many times and it had never worked. With the promise of finding a solution that didn't involve Bruce or Damian, her mother left.

After a few weeks, Y/n would notice that the watching eyes of her mother would be on her during practice and competitions. It was good to have one parent there. She wouldn't be able to attend most of the time, but she made an effort. Alfred caught her once when she was giving you flowers and Y/n begged for him to keep it a secret.

It was good to have something.

---

Years passed. Birthdays were spent having breakfast with Alfred, avoiding her twin, out with her friends, and occasionally, sneaking out to see her mother. Y/n wasn't heartless, though. Every year she would sneak a present that normally came from her and their mother into Damian's room. He was still her beloved twin after all. She had gotten used to competitions with little company. Even when she had won an award for being a prodigious skater, it was Alfred, the flowers he had bought her, and the ones her mother had sneaked into her house. She was fine, she claimed. Being ignored and forgotten didn't sting her heart as much as it did before, and she definitely didn't cry every time one of her siblings passed by her and acted as if they bumped into a piece of furniture. Hearing Damian refer to Cassandra as sister and only call her by her name didn't shatter her heart, no it only made her so unfocused in practice that she fell in the middle of her choreography. Coming back home after a day with her friends and seeing all of the decorations for Damian's birthday didn't slowly kill her on the inside anymore, no she just played music super loud when she took showers so no one would hear her sobs.

The breaking point? Duke Thomas.

She didn't have something against him directly, no. It was his arrival. Seeing her supposed family, her twin, welcome him with open arms broke her absolutely. Seeing them dine with him, joke around with him, smile with him, celebrate with him, and love him shattered her. It had been five years of this torment and she couldn't bear it anymore. So...she made a call.

"Mother....I think I want to go home.."

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

[konigsblog]

throat training with könig.

- being throat trained by your superior.

cw; f!reader, feminine titles. 18+

the amount of joy and gratification könig gets off of the sound of your pained gags and gurgles is almost concerning and should be studied. könig enjoys taking leadership and ownership, he doesn't mind teaching you a lesson if needed, but prefers if the job is done smoothly to begin with.

although, you're not experienced with blowjobs and könig was almost too eager to teach you. he wouldn't dare turn down a pretty girl like you in need of lesson. his lengthy dick ached and hardened at the sight of you; you rested upon the mattress in his barracks, your head slightly hanging off of the edge and your jaw slack. könig was enticed and couldn't contain his excitement and the euphoria burning through him, already inching down your gummy throat without warning or preparation. only when you gagged and gurgled around könig's hard, fat cock did könig retreat from your throat, scoffing at your sensitivity. god, you weren't even halfway down his dick and you were already gagging. looks like you'll be here for a while, getting throat fucked until you can take him down to the base, or as close as possible.

“that’s it, you can do it, just another couple of inches, don’t be so shy, mein herz, show me everything you know. open wide and tighten your little throat when i tell you so, you hear me?”

könig cocks his head to the side almost teasingly, towering above your figure with a cruel and playful grin almost impossible to wipe from his smug face. könig's gloved, large hand cups your jaw, he pushes his thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip, almost prying your jaw open despite the pitiful gags and sobs echoing inside of his barracks and the tears running down your poor, poor face. when you're with a cruel pervert like könig, you're spared no mercy. he won't go easy on you, schatzi. better toughen up.

tears fill your waterline and your cries are muffled with könig's girthy, meaty cock forced down your strained throat. something about teaching a pretty girl like you how to suck cock properly leaves him achingly hard and insatiable. he's hungry for more and can't control the way he rocks his broad and well-built hips against your face, huffing at the scent of your arousal dampening your panties. you coat könig's shaft in a coat of your shimmering spit, saliva dripping from your lips as you gasp for air once he pulls away, before könig is already shoving himself right back down your throat.

“tighten your throat.” he spits out gutturally through hoarse grunts, ordering you with a gruff and demanding tone. he smirks with satisfaction as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth, the sound of your gags becoming quieter as you finally begin to adjust to the intrusion down your sore throat.

“there we go, that’s what i like to see, you suckin my big cock until you’re breathless. now, now, you have a job to finish, mäusi.”

[lxvvie]

Simon Riley is only a good 5.4 inches when flaccid that when you finally consummated your relationship with him, you couldn't help yourself but let out a big sigh of relief, that your assumption that this larger-than-life man will probably have a third limb between his legs was thrown out to the wind.

But of course you were wrong. So very wrong because what this motherfucker doesn't tell you is that he's a grower, a mutant. One second he's average and the next you are praying to all saints that would grant you mercy to spare you as you gag around the weapon he calls his cock (a whopping 7-incher! spoiler: he'll grow another inch and some cm because he is such a horndog for you).

can u tell my brain is rotting 🪰

Yes, I can, nonnie. Yes, I can.

The first time you saw him, you were so amazed that you cockblocked yourself.

I maintain that Simon is hairy, and most of it is concentrated below the belt, so when you finally see him in all his glory, it's like, "Oh, wow."

Hair everywhere. On his thighs and between his legs. On his ass. Hair the color of sand. And balls. Hairy balls. Heavy hairy nuts. Hefty, furry bollocks that you can't help but hold in the palm of your hand and try to bounce to Simon's... confusion? Amusement? Fuck if he knows. And then you went "D'aww ❤️" when you saw him flaccid and he doesn't know if he should be turned on that you find his dick adorable or... turned on that you find his dick adorable.

But then he gets hard. And what used to be Little Lt. Riley is now resting on your stomach and holy fucking shit, he's a grower.

Simon senses your trepidation. "Luv?"

"You didn't tell me you had a third leg!" And Simon wants to crack a joke and almost does until you begin to play with his cock. You lift it up by the head, let it drop, it goes plop, rinse, and repeat. He didn't think he was that big but thanks for the compliment. He thinks.

But you're still so surprised by Big Dick Riley that sexytimes doesn't even happen anymore because you're too busy playing with and studying Simon's third leg.

And Simon's ass is so crazy in love and lust that he lets you lmao.

[mackk122]

Tittle : First time (part 1).

Part.2

Pairing~Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 5k.

Warnings~ none :)

Summary~ Younger Sister to the twin Emperors.As you are forced to sit and watch the games, a certain gladiator catches your attention.

Notes: This is just a build up to the next part. Raw, next question…

.·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·.

As I sat there awaiting my brother’s speech to announce the general, my mind wandered off searching in the crowd.

‘How could so many people sit here and enjoy these brutal games?’ I thought, I could hear the commotion but cared less of what was being spoken.

Still lost in my thoughts I jumped at a hand being placed on my shoulder- it was Lucilla.

“And where does the mind of the young princess of Rome, wander off to?” She spoke softly smelling the little bundle of flowers in her hand.

“Ah, just thinking about the games” I gave a fake smile. I had to be cautious about what I said or did, for my twin brothers didn’t take criticism lightly.

She smiled and gave a soft nod, understanding where I was coming from. All of the sudden the sound of horns and the crowd’s cheers erupted, drawing me out of my mind. The gladiators all came out, these men which have not felt peace since before their homes were taken.

I noticed very quickly a young man in the center of them, from what I could see he was a natural born leader, and very handsome. He commanded the gladiators as if it were his own personal army, when he moved they moved at his discretion. As the game went on I could barely stomach the man getting throw into the pillar. I turned away only for Caracalla to speak.

“Sister you must watch, isn’t it magnificent?” He grinned devilishly. I didn’t respond, for fear I would vomit because of the gore.

“YOUR EMPEROR IS SPEAKING TO YOU!” He shouted staring at me as if I was the crazy one.

“Brother! Our sister doesn’t mean to offend, remember it is but her first time sitting here to watch” Geta replied calming our brother down. As Caracalla turned back around amused at the center of the arena, Geta gave me a warning look.

As all of this was happening the rhino then slammed into the wall, and the two gladiators began to fight. My stomach began to turn, I prayed the man I saw earlier would not be slain.

As he fell to the ground and the bigger man stood above him asking the crowd for mercy or death, my heart sank.

The crowd began to cheer ‘Mercy’, and my brother stood to his feet, he turned to Lucilla who looked as if she was terrified for this man’s life.

“Shall I spare him?” Geta asked.

“Yes!” I shouted before Lucilla could answer her face slightly confused.

“Spare him” she spoke strongly to the Emperor.

With his body now facing the crowd and arm stretched out, he began to speak the words muffled in my head only focusing to the stranger on the ground, the crowd cheered and I looked up to see he had granted him mercy, I took a breath of relief.

“No mercy! I would rather die by the sword than receive mercy from the Roman’s!” Lucius shouted as he was on his hands and knees.

My eyes widened and I turned to Lucilla, she equally fearful for this young man. And they began to fight again, this time Lucius took victory. The crowd erupted into applause at the sight of this gladiator. He looked up into where we were sitting, and our eyes locked for a moment before he walked out of the arena.

─────── ·𖥸· ───────

“Lucilla” I said softly, catching up to her and the general. She turned to me with a soft smile but I knew something was wrong.

I pulled her into a hug, “That man, who is he?” I whispered in her ear. The manner of tone she used for him to be spared, was almost as if she’d known him.

“I’m afraid I know not what you speak” she spoke back pulling away. “Princess” she nodded and they continued to walk.

‘There is something she knows’ I thought to myself. I began to walk back to my brothers only for them to have left me at the colosseum.

“Fantastic” I breathed out.

“Ah, Princess” Macrinus spoke.

“Oh!” I turned stunned, not expecting him to be there. “Your gladiator is really something, what was his name?” I smiled.

Macrinus gave a sly look before responding, “He goes by Hanno…” he looked at me head turned slightly, “huh… princess” he said before leaving.

‘Hanno..’ I thought and a small smile appeared on my lips. ‘I will meet this man’ I thought to myself determined to speak to him.

.·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·.

As Lucius sat at the table getting stitched up, his mind kept wandering to the woman, behind the Emperors.

“What is on your mind gladiator?” Ravi asked him.

“That woman… not the generals wife- the other one, she is the princess… correct?” He asked staring at him.

“Yes… and why do you care?” Ravi smiled his brow raised. Lucius gave a look before it turned into a smile. Macrinus appeared

From around the corner congratulating him.

“Keep doing well and you’ll get what you want” he spoke.Lucius stopped him before he walked away.

“I want to meet the princess as well” he said stern. Macrinus chuckled and continued to walk.

[myharkness]

Speak To Me,

summary: emily, as it turns out, has been having a bit of a rough day. usually, you'd try to help her with soft whispers between work breaks, but today, she's being unkind to everyone — which is highly unusual. when she snaps at you, however, you take matters into your own hands, even if she doesn't want you to. tags: smut, mean!emily, menstruation, menstrual cramps, menstrual pain, hormones, sensitive!emily, sad girl times, fem!reader, bottom!emily, vibrators, toys, crying, comfort, dub-con?, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, choking, praising, toy sucking, gagging, brief mommy kink, reader does not have mercy on emmy's clit.

inspired by @illdowhatiwantthanks 's work: "Touchy"

word count: 2.7k

Being a profiler, you were naturally observant of your surroundings and the people at your side. Your elbow rested on the small table of the jet, cheek pressed against your first. Emily, the Chief, your girlfriend, sat on the far left, next to Luke, who had fallen asleep listening to music. You tapped your finger rhythmically as you watched her curiously as her eyes remained glued to the book in her hands, turning a page occasionally. Now, you were no Spencer Reid, but you were fairly certain that Emily was reading slower than usual. 

She had been off the entire day. Not just with you, but with the team, as well. She had snapped more than once, enough times to earn questioning glances from her teammates. She had dismissed everyone's questions with an irritated wave of her hand, and had walked past you without so much as sparing you a glance. When her shoulder had bumped against yours, and she moved away and left, you realized that she would not be speaking to you anytime soon.

And you'd have to find out all on your own. You watched the way she turned a page, the occasional twitch of her brow, which happened only during moments of intense stress, and the way she occasionally shifted on her seat, leaning forward, or crossing her legs. You weren't certain about what was wrong with her, but with the way she gripped the book, knuckles turning white, you were fairly confident to say that she was in pain, at the very least. 

When Tara sat across from her, tilting her head to the side, you tried not to seem too interested in their interaction, turning your eyes elsewhere. You heard the book close firmly, an irritated sigh following close after. 

"Are you okay, Emily?" Tara asked, raising a brow. You turned your head briefly, catching the way Emily's jaw flexed, eyes moving to the window at her side. Her hands clenched into fists over the chair's armrests, relaxing before her fingers twitched.

"Headache," She replied sharply. She was stiff now, tense. Tara didn't push, but her eyes remained studying her behavior. She nodded and looked out the window as well. You knew it wasn't just a headache — otherwise she wouldn't have been so cruel to the people she was working with back at the station. 

The jet arrived and everyone disembarked as usual. You, however, watched the way Emily faltered as she stood, shaky hands tightening as her lips pursed. Her cheeks were rosy now, and her skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat. You walked to the parking lot as usual, sitting on the driver's seat and waiting for Emily, as you had driven her to work earlier that morning. 

When she reached your car and sat on the passenger side with a huff, she closed the door a little harder than she normally would, before gripping her knees and looking ahead. You, however, only looked at her, leaving the car parked after you turned it on. Emily looked at you, brows still furrowed, jaw tight. 

"You driving or are we just hanging out in the parking lot?” She scoffed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. You ignore the snappy tone, though it mildly irritates you, before sighing softly.

"Em, do you wanna tell me what's going on?" You watched her jaw tick, eyes flashing briefly. You couldn't tell if it was another bout of anger, or something that resembled sadness. It was gone too soon for you to study.

"I'm fine, and I wish people would stop fucking asking," She replied, then looked forward with a huff. "Can you just drive me home? I want to get to bed already."

You purse your lips and sigh, shifting the gear before driving again. You held the wheel with one hand, gripping tightly — you could faintly see your knuckles turn white, even in the darkness. She was irritating you, really. She wouldn't open up to you, and that would normally be okay. You always let her come to you in her own time.

But the way she had been so bitchy to everyone — including you, was a clear, tell-tale sign that she did need something, only she refused to ask for help. As per usual. When you arrived to her home, the car had barely stopped before she swung the door open and left without a final word.

That alone had been the cherry on top.

Nights after a case, you usually stayed over at her place. If not, however, she'd whisper soft goodbyes and kiss your head. Today, you'd hardly seen the color of her eyes. You park properly and kill the engine, shoving the keys in the pocket of your pants before following behind her, slipping your foot between the door and the frame before she managed to close it.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed, opening the door to glare. Your hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her inside with ease, kicking the door shut behind you before absentmindedly locking it with your free hand. She yelped as you dragged her to the living room, pushing her onto the couch and standing above her.

You're calm — as calm as you can be when she had been disrespecting you the entire day, of course. You're not angry enough to hurt her in a fit of mindless rage, and you feel comfortable, under enough control so that you may express your thoughts clearly.

"I don't know what's going on with you," You breathe slowly, and your jaw flexes. "I can't understand if you don't speak to me, my love. I want nothing more than to help you — but you are being stubborn."

"I don't care," She spat, and her fingers clench around her shirt. "Just leave already. I don't need your help, alright?"

Before you open your mouth, your eyes rake over the coffee table close to the couch. A small bottle of pain medicine, a heating pad, and an empty bowl full of chocolate wrappers. Your lips part as realization settled in your mind — it had been a month already.

"Emily," You sigh. "You're on your period?"

She doesn't answer, eyes lowering. Her expression is still guarded, lips pursed until the color disappeared, and you watched her thighs press together until they shook slightly. Oh.

"You're on your period and you're needy," Her cheeks flushed, tinged with a soft pink hue. She squirmed below your gaze, and she ran her fingers through her hair, sighing shakily.

"I...I don't usually get like this on...on my period," She speaks hesitantly. "But this morning I was so...it was too much and I couldn't take care of it and I didn't want to as you for help...it wouldn't be fair of me."

"It wouldn't be fair of you to ask your girlfriend to take care of you?" You ask, quirking a brow. You understand her situation now, but you can't say that you're any less bothered than you were before.

Her cheeks burned, "It's messy, okay? I don't want to...I just can't."

"There are toys, my love," You sigh. "You have toys. I will always want to help you — even if you're on your period. There are ways to go about it, sweetheart."

"Still..." She snaps, embarrassed. "I don't want that..."

Again, you find yourself battling the slow anger bubbling inside you. You can handle her in pain, and you can take the occasional off-hand comment, but snapping the entire day had drained you of your patience.

"Get to the bed," You say, beginning your walk to her bedroom. You hope you don't have to repeat yourself, otherwise you may have to take a walk to cool down and think logically. You grab the brown towel hanging on the edge of her bed and lay it over the bed, opening the nightstand and rummaging through the toys.

You faintly hear Emily's footsteps come behind you, and the way her breath hitches doesn't go unnoticed by you. You don't spare her a glance as you lay some toys on the edge of the bed, folding your sleeves up to your elbows.

"W-wait, no, I—"

"Get on the bed," You repeat, then look at her. "I'd recommend that you listen, I'm not in a particularly forgiving mood — it's been a bit of a rough day for me too, baby."

Emily's eyes widen, and they gloss over as she looks down guiltily. When she sits on the edge of the bed, you cup her jaw and press a kiss to her forehead, stroking her cheek faintly.

"Do you have a pad or a tampon?" You ask, brushing her hair away from her face. You'd missed her eyes today, so you'll be making sure to stare at them the entire night.

"Tampon," She mumbles.

"Alright," You reply. "Go to the bathroom and take it off. Don't put any clothes on your lower body."

Her cheeks burn, and she swallows, but you see her thighs press together as she nods, standing shakily to enter the bathroom connected to her bedroom. You grab a rubber band from the table and tie your hair back loosely, glancing at the toys and slowly forming a plan in your head.

You feel a little more refreshed, but the irritable feeling lingers.

When Emily returns, she's wearing her favorite black robe, and her lower body is bare. She sits on the towel, thighs closed as she shifts uncomfortably. Again, your hand cups her jaw, but your lips meet her mouth this time, pressing firmly together. Your lips part, and hers follow, allowing your tongue to brush lightly against her.

She whimpers, and you slide your tongue inside, cupping her cheek and pulling her closer to your kiss. Her eyes are closed, lashes brushing against her cheeks as your fingers dug into her jaw, leaving light red marks.

"All this time," You huff, meeting her lips again. "You were just fucking horny. I can't believe you."

"M'sorry," She breathes out, flushed. "It's just..."

"No, I know," You sigh, then kiss her jaw, slowing making way down to her neck. When your mouth meets her throat, and your teeth graze lightly before sinking, you watch her shoulders slump as a shaky moan leaves her lips. Your hands move to her sides, but you pull your touch away in an instant.

"Wait..."

"Be patient," You sigh, moving to sit behind her. Your back rests on the bed frame, and her back rests against your chest. Your lips make home on the side of her neck, leaving the occasional mark on her shoulder as you slowly worked her up. Not that she needed it — she had been squirming the second you entered her home uninvited. Your hand kneads at her breast, but your touch is gentle there, kissing her cheek as her sore body makes her whimper.

When you tweak her nipple and she melts into you, your hand grasps the large, black wand vibrator. Her eyes are closed, but they snap open when she hears the vibrations flick on. Before she can speak, you press it firmly against her clit, hooking your legs over hers to hold them open.

"Oh, fuck," She whined. "Wait, please, I..."

Her legs began to shake immediately, and it made you realize just how neglected her arousal had been. You hum softly, still kneading her breast as the vibrations worked on her clit. Her head fell back with a shaky gasp, laying on your shoulder as you drew slow circles with the toy.

"So — fuck, so good," She pants, rolling her hips. "Wait, it's — it's sensitive. P-pull away, m'gonna cum already. D-don't wanna cum yet..!"

"You can take it," You hum, drawing faster circles. You watched her eyes widen, nails digging into your thighs as she groaned loudly, mouth falling open as she tried to grind against the wand, seeking her release with the delicious pleasure she was being given. You added more pressure on her clit, and it seemed to throw her over the edge.

Your name fell from her lips, a quick, breathy chant that had her rolling her hips against nothing. Her eyes nearly rolled back, but you pull the toy away before you can allow her to ride the high of her climax. She goes to complain, but your hands bring another toy.

A dildo, this time. A little smaller than the one she usually uses, but you don't want to make her uncomfortable, so you choose the safer option. You hold it up to her lips, and she parts them obediently. The toy disappears in her mouth, making her eyes sting as she gags lightly. When you pull it out, its thoroughly soaked.

"Good girl," You hum, and kiss her shoulder. "So good."

Her cheeks flush, and you line the toy up with her entrance. You dip in slowly, pushing past her sensitive walls. You flip on the vibrator on a lower setting, pressing it against her clit once again.

"Hold it," You murmur. "And don't pull it away until I say so.."

Emily swallows thickly, but nods, using both of her trembling hands to hold the toy onto her clit. She slumps back onto you with a gasp as you start a steady pace with the dildo, still pinning her legs open with your own. Her hips writhe and twitch occasionally, until her orgasm is building up again.

Her hips roll as you fuck her steadily, clenching around the toy. She doesn't feel any pain as she finally reaches her climax, her abdomen relieved of any cramps.

"W-wait, I..." She gasps. "Fuck, m'gonna pass out.."

You chuckle, "You're fine, sweetheart. Just hold it steady like I said."

She does as you say, even after she finished riding her orgasm. Her legs tremble and shake, pulling long whines and broken whimpers from her throat, her head falling back onto your shoulder once again. Her moans turn into broken sobs as she reaches another climax, making you pull the dildo out, leaving it on the towel.

You hold the wand to her clit, above her hand, to ensure that she doesn't pull it away as she rolls her hips. Her hands leave the toy and return to your thighs, sinking her nails into you once again, mouth falling open with a loud, stretched-out moan.

She's pulsing now, and her pussy is drooling prettily onto the towel beneath her. She gasps and chokes, eyes rolling back. There are tears streaming down her cheeks, a guttural moan ripping from the depths of her throat.

"S'too much!" She pleads, gasping. "Please, m-mommy, can't take anymore!"

"I don't know, baby," You murmur softly, wrapping a hand around her throat and squeezing lightly. "I think you can take one more."

There's another sob that breaks through her throat. It makes you falter, moving your eyes up to her face, searching for anything. You see, however, that she'd closed her eyes and nodded desperately, tears dripping onto her chest.

"Atta girl," You hum. "One more for mommy."

You press the vibrator firmly against her clit, drawing quick, tight circles as you flip it on the highest setting. Her mouth drops open and no sound comes out. Your nose nudges against her jaw and you let go of her neck, whispering softly, "Breathe, baby."

She gasps as her hips spasm and write, a loud sob echoing in the room. You don't flip off the toy just yet, leaving it for a few more seconds. She pleads and cries, and you listen eventually, pulling it away and turning it off. Her clit is throbbing, utterly swollen and abused as it pulses, leaving her breathing heavily.

"Em?" I murmur softly. "You with me?"

"Yeah," She says shakily, then swallows. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Yeah?" You whisper, then stretch your neck to look at her. "You did so good, baby. Good job."

Her cheeks flush, nuzzling her nose in the crook of your neck, "Thank you...I'm sorry I was so snappy today."

"It's okay," You assure, then chuckle. "I wasn't very patient. I might also be getting my period soon, unfortunately."

Emily giggles, and you feel her lashes flutter against your skin.

"Shower first, baby," You remind, and she nods. "I'll clean you up, and then I'll clean up in here so we're ready for bed, yeah?"

"Yeah," She yawns. "Thank you."

[stvolanis]

the situation you were in now made you contemplate your previous choices. your face was pushed harshly into Rafe Cameron’s silk sheets in his dimly lit room, back positioned into an almost painful arch. The money you’d stolen from him, roughly in the mediocre thousands, you thought he wouldn’t notice was missing. Rafe swam on money, so surely, he wouldn’t notice if just a little bit was missing, right? Wrong!

his cock slammed into you at a brutal pace, relentlessly hitting that one, spongey spot inside of you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head and desperate pleas slip past your drool covered lips. You spent all the money you had stolen from the man fucking you into oblivion, and this was the only way you could pay him back.

“Takin’ this dick like a real pogue, huh?” He chuckled in your ear tauntingly as his hand balled into a fist in your hair, further pushing your face into his sheets. He was rough with you, sparing no mercy as his hand came down to slap your ass as it bounced against him with every thrust. “R-Rafe, please! M’sorry, god, oh my god—” you cried out. You felt powerless as he held your arms behind your back with one hand.

“She’s just sucking me in, fuckkk..” he groaned, throwing his head back. “Gonna cum in this pussy, yeah? That’s what you want? Say it, baby.” He urged in a sickeningly sweet tone, almost mocking. Your legs were shaking and your cunt was dripping with your slick, the sound of your juices heard with each thrust. “Cum in my pussy, Rafe—please—need it.” You whimpered out desperately, your words slurring together.

“Good fuckin’ girl. Knew you pogues had manners.”

Working on making a new master list where you can find all my work! Sorry for the inconvenience<3

TAG LIST: @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @luxuriouslokistan-3 @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @peterpan-neverfails-blog @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @vogueprincess @theoraeken @scintilla-morningstar @liv-n @armandosbabymama @axailslink @cosmixstar

[turnfires-secret]

Kinich x top male reader? Imagine that Kinich limps a little after their night with reader, and while reader is trying to make amends, Ajaw makes fun of them in every possible way. That would be fun lmao😭

Anon ilysm i've been craving a reason to write ajaw for days now and I finally get my excuse!

This isn't really smut tho... sorry if I've disappointed anyone!

Payment Due | Kinich X Male Reader

It’s beyond hot inside your shared bedroom. How long had the two of you been at it? Neither you nor Kinich could recall. Kinich has buried his face into the crook of his arm again, trying to keep himself quiet. It doesn’t bring the Turnfire hunter any sort of mercy from the ruthless unending pleasure plaguing his mind, seeing as you just start fucking him harder fueled by the desire to listen to the whorish sounds that slipped from his mouth.

When Kinich wakens the next morning he’s met with a terrible sticky sensation and… as per usual, the most aggravating sound Kinich had heard in his whole life.

“Ew! You humans really are disgusting! I’d have never expect my own servant to engage in such… foul, vile, unholy, unsanitary acts of sacrilege in the close presence of the mighty dragon lord, Ku’hul Ajaw! “

Attempting to ignore Ajaw’s incessant yapping, Kinich takes a deep breath and gets up out of bed… Only to realize the pain and agony that came with such a task. Actually, phrasing it that way is abit too… dramatic. What he was actually facing was the aches and pains of post sex. Kinich is limping, and (to make the situation worse) Ajaw notices. 

“Oh? Did that puny human you drool over fuck you that hard to the point you can’t walk straight?! Wait- Meheheheh! maybe today’s my lucky day! You should go outside and try fight a pack of those idiotic tribal warriors and die!”

“I’m not that stupid, now leave me alone”

Kinich replied, taking yet another deep breath before going to the bathroom and taking a shower. The dendro user finishes his shower, feeling much more refreshed and awake despite the fact he’s still limping. Changing into some fresh clothes he feels your arms around his waist and your head nuzzle into his shoulder. 

“Well good morning to you too”

“Mhhh~ Kinichhh why are you up so early….?”

To Kinich, the sound of your voice was always the best part of his day.

“It’s far from early my love, Infact, it’s 11 am”

“Still too early…”

“EW, DISGUSTING LOVE BIRDS, YOU MAKE ME SICK!”

Theres a pause in the room before you and Kinich both decide to once more completely ignore the yelling pixelized projection. 

“Moving on, you, should be paying me compensation.”

Even though your voice was the best medicine for the aloof warrior, you were still not exempt from his habit of counting costs. To Kinich, it seems his aching grievance was enough to warrant payment.

“Wh- payment?!”

“Because of your prior actions i now find it hard to walk normally, so personally, i think you should pay the prince, no?”

“Personally i think you should charge them has much as you can, Kinich!” (Ajaw says, bardging into the conversation only to get ignored)

“Wh- Alright then~ For payment how about… we go another round?”

You respond, your voice now holding that seductive tone you seemed to enjoy using with him. 

His neck is sensitive after last night’s activities. You bite down, hard enough for him to feel it. Such an action’s associations mixed with such sensitivity forced a needy whine from Kinich’s throat, aswell as changes the Turnfire warrior’s mind. 

“... fine, i have time to spare… just… be abit more gentle this time, will you?”

[chosopie]

Hear me out: Conquer Sukana who killed y/n bethroned and Y/n, a very high ranking princess convinces Sukana who leave her baby brother, Yuji be. Yuji is a 3 year old who often clinging to y/n since Sukana basically stole the throne. Sukana falls for the beautiful y/n

CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Master, it would be best if you spared them. They have done nothing against you,” Uraume spoke while he stood by Sukuna’s tall figure that loomed over you and your baby brother Yuji’s shaking figure. “Perhaps, you could even keep Lady Y/N L/N. She is known for her intelligence and her way with the sword.”

You stood in front of your little brother, arms spread open to shield his small body. Your face was covered in sweat and the blood of the man you were betrothed to. Now that he was dead, you were going to be queen—the queen of the foreign conquerer. It was unfair, but this was the rule and tradition every nation had mutually agreed upon. It was survival of the strongest. Those who are strong enough shall take what they can.

“Leave my brother alone or I will show you no mercy,” you spat.

“No mercy?” Sukuna laughed. “And what could you possibly do to me? You’re just a tiny and meek girl.”

You pulled out the dagger that was attached to the band on your thigh and pointed it at Sukuna’s upper abdomen. He quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you to his hard and toned chest.

“Stab me, girl. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he moved his face close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes shamelessly examined your face, slowly trailing down to your exposed flesh. You wore a flowy purple off-shoulder dress that had a large slit that showed your legs. With him towering over you, he could see the top of your breasts your dress failed to cover.

You spat at him, causing him to move back. He scowled and tightly held your face with his large hand. His sharp nails dug onto your supple skin, leaving red streaks all over your cheeks.

“Do the women here have no knowledge of manners? Know your place. I own this nation now. I own you.” He let go of your face and snatched Yuji.

“No! Get away, monster!” Yuji fought back and tried to squeeze his way out of Sukuna’s arms.

“Yuji!” You screamed and stabbed Sukuna on the chest, carving out a big line that went all the way to his stomach.

Sukuna winced and threw Yuji onto the ground. You tried to run to your brother, but Sukuna grabbed you and held you in place.

“Please! Let him go! Just take me instead, you bastard!”

“Is that so?” Sukuna smirked, his hand effortlessly lifting Yuji from the ground and tossing him to you. You catched Yuji and hugged him tight, your left hand on the small of his back and right hand gently caressing his hair. “I shall take you as my wife,” the fierce man said.

-

Sukuna sat comfortably on his throne, his chin resting on the palm of his hands while he blankly stared at the lavish banquet your people had prepared. There were girls in revealing dresses that danced right in front of him, but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on you, who sat beside him in a beautiful white dress that was elegantly draped on your dainty figure. Your neck and wrists were covered in jewels of all sorts that Sukuna had gifted you prior to your unification.

“Smile a little, my dove. It’s our wedding. You’re more than lucky to have me as your ally. After all, I’m the strongest out there.”

Your eyes refused to meet his piercing gaze. “Ally? I had no choice. You forcefully took me.”

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head towards him. “You gave yourself to me, remember?”

“That’s because I had to protect my brother.”

“And you looked beautiful doing that. You would make a great mother,” he smiled with amusement.

: ̗̀➛ part 2

[meowpupp]

TW//: hardest smut I've written (I think), cnc, gangbang, punishment, body writing, extreme degradation, overstim, anal, oral(m&f receiving), implied poly relationship, bad editing.

thinking abt captain price who brings his puppygirl to work. you've been naughty, a desperate mess for his cock. humping his boots, pawing at his cock, grinding your dripping cunt on whatever you can find. he's tired of it.

price ties you up, handcuffing you to the coffee table in his office. he strips you down, leaving your soft body exposed to whoever walks in. he even turns the ac up, smirking the way your nipples pebble, thighs shaking as you whine.

and to make it worse, he writes on your body. filthy words that make you squirm and leak. 'slut', 'whore', 'breeding bitch', 'cocksleeve', 'fucktoy'. he even goes as far to write a bold 'BREED ME' adding an arrowing pointing directly to your pretty cunt.

he's so mean, ignoring your desperate little cries and pleas for mercy. even as johnny holds you down, shoving his cock deep down your throat, he ignores you. he has no qualms finishing his paperwork while the sargent stains your pretty face with cum.

he lets all his soldiers use you. ghost stuffs your little cunt. it practically feels like hes ripping your little body apart. hands spreading your thighs as wide as they'll go, pawing the fat there as he spits a large, fat, ball of saliva on your clit. he laughs as you twitch, slapping your tits as you cum around his thick cock.

even gaz doesn't spare you mercy. he adds to prices writing, for such a pretty man his mind is filth. 'cum dump', 'dumb slut', 'free use'. he crosses out the 'BREED ME', instead writing 'useless'.

uses the left over slick and cum from ghost, pushing into your tight, inexperienced ass. big hands hold you down as he kisses up your spine. he doesn't care if it 'hurts', or if he's 'too big.' there's an arrow pointing to your ass, clearly saying 'USE ME.' he's never disobeyed an order from price, why would he now?

it's even worse when all three take you at once. ghost and soap fighting for room in your cunt. the two men are impatient, shoving their cocks deep inside your poor, overstimulated, cunt even as you cry.

gaz is no help, wiping your tears away as he forces his load down your throat, holding you still until you swallow everydrop. he squeezes his dick through your throat, milking every drop.

it's only when you're all fucked out, every hole stuffed with cum, that price has mercy. he lays you out on his desk, hands still cuffed, and cleans out your pretty cunt. licking fat stripes to your clit, fingering all the cum shoved into your pretty, used, cunt.

"shhhh, sweetheart. I know. but you wanted this, remember? this is what happens to needy puppies like you. they get held down and fucked like the little toys they are."

[neuvistar]

HI MARYSE thinkin' about tattoo!artist blade who thinks of ur whole body as a brand new delicate canvas for him, pretty tattoos going from ur breasts to your womb, and of course it's never without his " watermark " ( it's his name in mandarin ) on ur thigh<3 thinking about the way he's so proud of his works that he can't keep his hands to himself when he's (finger)fucking you

❝ HIS PRIZED POSSESSION. ❞ signed. blade . wc. 809 .

— featuring ┊tattoo artist!blade x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! not proofread. TATTOO ARTIST BLADIE TATTOO ARTIST BLADIE!!!!, established relationships, v4ginal fingering, cunilingus, use of nicknames, feminine terms used, jus a TAAAAD bit of pussydrunk!bladie ♡ | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒? @yngxing

— a/n ┊ANON U ARE SOOOOAURRE SMART. i loved this ask a little TEWWWW much that i decided 2 make a small fic out of it >:) THANK U 4 SENDING ME THIS… YUMMERS. (also… it’s been so long so i’m sorry 4 the VERY late response this is insane)

it’s no doubt that you were blade’s favourite customer, of course! you were his girlfriend! but yet, it shows in his works and the way he treats you. he can’t help it, really.. who wouldn’t be fond of someone as pretty as you? your body was delicate—it was worth worshipping in his eyes, it’s safe to say that it’s hard for him not to lose control. your perfect body was a sight to behold, blessing his eyes with newfound lust and pride. as he leaned in, his hands released your thighs as he dropped to his knees before you, his dark gaze burning with desire as he yanked your sundress up, baring you completely. blade admired his past work, absorbing the beauty of the tattoo on your breast, his initials over your womb, and his name over your thigh. “hmph. take those panties off and lift your skirt up more. i can't be doing this with your clothes on.” blade instructed, his brows furrowed as he pulled you towards his face. “don’t be shy now. it’ll be better to mark you as mine this way.” he bowed his head forward, his tongue flicking against your clit, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body.

"bladie!” you cried out in pleasure, hands fisting in his long dark hair. your boyfriend lapped at your drenched cunt, sparing no mercy as he drove you to the edge.. your back arching off the chair. the scent of his dominance and need fills the air, the heat between you both was thick and palpable. blade’s hand drifts to the side of your thigh, his thumb brushing over your skin through your dress. he growled against your pussy, the sound low and demanding. your face scrunched at the sounds of slurping and sucking from below; your hips arching to meet his tongue. “good.. so good.” blade suckled on your swollen folds like a starved man, feeling it pulse beneath his lips. he could sense the heat radiating from your core, making his own desire grow even stronger. his wet muscle flicked and circled, your moans growing louder and more desperate with each stroke.. it would be unfortunate if another customer walked in on this.

“pretty." he whispered, a wicked expression spreading across his face. and with that, he dove back in, his tongue plunging deep within you. his thumb toyed with your bud, the sensitive nub pulsing in response to his touch. letting out a rough guttural moan, his hands released your thigh to caress the tattoo on your womb, admiring his work once more as the ache in his groin grew more intense with each passing second. “mine.. mine.” sweat glistened on your bodies as you moved together, the room filled with the sounds of your sounds of pleasure. blade was determined to make you feel every ounce of ecstasy and pride he had in his body. he wanted this, he wanted to claim you.. show just how—proud he is of his work.

“.. can you take my fingers?” he asked you suddenly, his voice muffled against your cunt. “these fingers that have worked tirelessly to show everyone you belong to me.” his words are a mix of semi-praise and tease, his fingers spreading your lips open, watching as the slickness coats his digits. he’s enjoying this, the control he has over your body, the way you respond to his touch. “these tattoos.. are staying here forever.” his finger slid inside, stretching you completely wide. he loved this part, making you helplessly needy for his touch. blade knew he could take your body to the edge and back, control you completely.. a slow, sensual invasion meant to calm your nerves and ground you in the here and now. his eyes locked on your face, gauging your reactions and facial expressions. fuck, he knew you hated this combination. you hated that stupid combination of his fingers and his tongue, knowing it’ll make you cum quicker than usual.

blade couldn't get enough of you. no matter how many times he’d touch you, draw tattoos on you, kissed you, it was never enough for him. he wanted more, and he demanded for more. he could cover your entire body up with tattoos for all he cares! his talented tongue delved deeper, flicking and teasing your heat mercilessly. blade absolutely delighted in making you squirm, taking pleasure in your moans and whimpers… you were overwhelmed with everything, especially when blade’s fingers slipped in and out so easily like this. it was almost impressive. he hummed appreciatively at your wetness, a testament to how much you craved his touch.

“so wet.” blade muttered against your pussy, his voice thick with lust. "every touch, every kiss, every orgasm, it all belongs to me. no one else gets to enjoy your sweet body like this.”

…

“especially with my name signed on your womb.”

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3