#there's an angle to this one that makes me uncomfortable

[clairewritesandrambles]

Scott needily grabbing your ass when he’s cums when you’re on top… 🫢 those hands 😩

Anon. ANON. Please, I am not strong enough for this today.

He doesn't let you get on top often. He prefers seeing you underneath him, either fucking you into the mattress from behind or watching your cock drunk face while you're a mess for him. So when he does? Oh, it's even hotter to him than usual.

Note: I wrote this with a plus-sized reader in mind, because my body is the exact reason why I actually hate being on top in my own sex-capades.

This spiraled. I started thinking this would be like 100-200 words. It's almost 1300. I hope it's good.

CW: Spanking (once), breeding, talking of body insecurity, Scott being sweet for once?, Claire talks too much

"That's it, baby. Nice and slow. I want to see you shaking from how bad you want my cock." Scott was reclined against his stack of pillows, one arm obnoxiously tucked behind his head while the other hand rubbed soft circles into your thigh.

"Scott... Please just fuck me." Your voice was soft, unable to hold his hungry gaze as he took in your form straddling his thick thighs. You felt too exposed, even with your hands resting on his chest allowing you to obscure some of his view of your body.

Shaking his head, he took the hand under his head and used it to caress your hip. "You're not getting out of this that easily. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock before I even think about having you under me." Seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, he threaded his fingers through yours as a soft, reassuring smile touched his lips. "You can do it, beautiful."

"Scott," you whined, "please." You shifted uncomfortably on him, thoughts running through your head a thousand miles a minute. Thoughts of your face from his point of view, the look of your body, and the feel of your weight on his hips and chest. Would he be turned off by it? Would it feel good for him? Not for the first time, you worried about Scott seeing the flaws you saw in yourself and realizing what he has gotten himself into.

You're jostled from your thoughts by Scott readjusting himself to sit up to your level, the concern on his face indicating he'd recognized the look of overthinking on your face. He always teased that he knew you better than you knew yourself and in moments like these you believed him.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?" He bumped his forehead against yours, giving you no option but to look into his eyes while his strong arms held you close.

"I just..." You trailed off, considering playing it cool before you saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow, already a step ahead of you. "It feels good, right? I'm not too heavy or anything?"

A large hand snakes its way to cup your jaw, making you instinctively lean into his warmth. You always loved it when he used his hands on you, seeing them flex as he held and touched you, and the warmth they provided.

"You always feel amazing, baby. I could spend the rest of my life with you on top of me, letting me see that beautiful body of yours, and I'd feel completely at peace." He whispered these words like a sacred promise, his thumb dragging on your bottom lip as he softly angled his head even closer to yours. "I am so fucking in love with all of you."

Your entire body heated at his words, your hands grabbing at his face to join his mouth with yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, stealing your sighs as one hand slipped around your back while the other trailed down your jaw to land at your throat.

"Now," he said, breaking the kiss, "ride my cock like a good girl." He leaned back as his hands encircled your hips, his hair falling into his lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, sir," you mocked, leaning forward to brush his hair back into place as you pressed one last kiss to his lips. Your hips lifted on his cock before you sat back, drawing a heavenly moan from his lips, the sound mixing with his words and touch to spur confidence into you.

His grip was bruising as you rode him, profanities mixing with praises as you bounced on his cock. You knew you'd wake up with marks tomorrow, Scott's fingers brushing over them with a satisfied sigh as you two dressed for the day. 

"You feel so fucking good, baby." He breathed, thumb brushing over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, a strangled sound escaping Scott's mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure. "Come on, beautiful. Come for me, I wanna feel you fucking leaking down my cock, you can do it."

You didn't even have time to react before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and clench around him. He shot up to a half-sitting position, catching you as you collapsed on his shoulder. "Fuck, good girl. You're so fucking good for me."

With his hand behind him providing more leverage, Scott started thrusting into you, fucking himself even deeper into you than he already was. All pretenses were dropped as he desperately chased after his orgasm, his other hand gripping your ass as he pulled you down to keep as much of him inside of you as he could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight, I can't wait to fill you." He mouthed at your neck, your fingers grabbing onto the hairs at the base of his neck as he sucked a mark onto a sweet spot. Praises fell freely from his mouth now, his grip on your ass tightening before crescendoing into a firm smack. "Gonna fill you and get you fucking pregnant."

His words drew out a sound that didn't even sound human, making you clench around him once again as a second orgasm rocketed up to settle as a tight ball in your stomach. You could hear his smirk as he continued: "You want that? Want me to pump you full of cum until you can't take anymore? You'd take more though, if I told you because you're so fucking good for me." You weren't even in control of your own body at this point, hips desperately meeting his thrusts. "God, I'd fucking love to see your body while you're pregnant. Nice and full of me, wearing little loose dresses around the house so I can fill you over and over again. Fuck I'll keep you nice and bred every day."

His words rip a second orgasm from  you, your body spasming as you kiss him again, all teeth and tongue through the rush of passion. More filthy words continued to escape against your lips, Scott losing coherency in the throes of his building orgasm. He fully straightens up, both hands grasping your hips to push you down onto him as his cock twitched and filled you. Deep grunts filled the air as he continued minuscule thrusts, the aftershocks of his orgasms continuing to go through him. As he came down, he mouthed at your jaw, dropping down your neck and chest before finalizing with a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the pillows, more strewed on the bed than before. You moved to lay beside him, causing a discontent sound to come from his throat as he pulled you back down onto his slowly softening cock. "It's not going to stick if you get up right away. Gotta make sure it works." He spoke like he couldn't believe you'd think of getting off.

"How stupid of me." You rolled your eyes, taking in how good he looked with a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin and curling his hair.

He smirked knowingly at you, seeing you take in his appearance. But his words didn’t match the arrogant expression, instead reflecting only the soft look in his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're going soft, Miller." You taunted, reaching out once again to brush a hair off his face when he caught your wrist.

"Only for you," he conceded, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point and pulling you to lay on his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 7 college!simon x reader. Gahhh this is melting my stony black little heart 🥺 pls leave feedback! Always appreciated! And reblogs, likes are appreciated.

Masterlist here ✉️

“Work…with you?”

“It ain’t a request. I’m tellin’ ya.”

Was all that echoed in your mind as you sat in your bed. Between how he stepped in for you—defending you and now offering you a job—you were startled.

Why did he suddenly care so much?

What changed?

You wondered, eyes roaming around your room. You sipped your tea, trying to stay warm amidst the cold front outside. Simon.

He was a real piece of work.

You had to know more. You felt like there were questions you had about the job—and most importantly Simon. You got up, setting your tea aside on your desk. You threw over an oversized zip up, your hair messed up and left down. You shoved your feet in your slippers before making up way to his door—which was shut.

You knocked. You waited for a minute, then the sound of creaking, groaning, and heavy footsteps commenced. Your pulse quickened and you pinched gently at your arm to steady yourself.

Enough of that—

When Simon opened the door, his hair was a rugged mess, arm leaning up against the door frame, the other resting on the knob to hold it. His brow cocked in confusion—but then realization crossed when he saw you. “You ere’ bout the job?”

“That I am. You gonna make me stand or do I have to barge in?” You said, jokingly, although heart fluttering at the sight of him.

Simon scratched at his stubble before glancing behind him. Almost as if he were self conscious or guarding his room. Not that you were a threat, right?

As you looked at him, you had to admit this overgrown stubble look suited him. Even with the scars.

“A’right. The flat ain’t Devil Wears Prada, so don’ expect much.” Simon grumbled, although his face was flat. He moved aside, big frame against the wall as he watched you slither past. Your sweater brushed his chest and his breath caught momentarily.

He then shut the door, alone with you.

“Payback, you were once in my room.” You snickered, sensing how uncomfortable he felt with you in his personal space, standing in the middle. You tilted your head at the various records hung on his walls, posters that were falling down. Jackets hung neatly in his half open closet, shoes tucked inside. Although a pair of boots stood outside—most likely for convenience. His usual rugged distressed worker boots.

Simon felt odd watching you. It was like his heart had a mind of its own, speeding up when you tilted your head, and leaned to watch his objects. It had been a while since he had a lass up in his room. He shifted and then sat his form at the edge of his bed, torso angled to you. One leg folded inward. He then chose a topic, most likely trying to get under your skin for amusement.

“Fixin’ ya damn window. It was easy.”

“Oh. Right. Because you’re 7ft tall, and I’m 3ft tall.”

Your eyes caught onto his trash can. It was filled and you narrowed your eyes. Your cup was sitting at the edge, from the hot cocoa you’d given him.

You grinned, now you had something to wield and head butt him with.

“You still have that in your room? It’s been over a week.”

“Been busy.” His gruff tone sounded behind you. Simon was glad you weren’t looking, because now his ears and neck were flushed pink. He cursed himself inwardly.

As you roamed and checked out his desk, seeing the pens and pencils for drawing, it piqued your interest. Ink pens, charcoal, and an eraser. Little lamp to the side as you saw when you first met him. A leather jacket lay folded over the chair—“Lieutenant,” written all over. That caught your attention.

He noticed where your attention was, arms folded now, as his eyes tracked you like a hawk. The bed shifted and he tipped his head slightly.

“Easy there, wot, you tryna’ figure me out or somethin’?”

“You bothered?” You cracked a grin widely, and then perched yourself up on his desk, sitting at the edge. You crossed your arms, the light angling at shining over your form.

Simon oddly found himself itching. The more he stared at you the more it became pronounced. His fingers more-so. Itching to draw the way you sat—hair illuminated by the sun, and face partly shadowed. The curve of your lips highlighted.

He shook the feeling off and swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

“Listen, Johnny—my man owns this bar we work at. Mollys. I can talk to him and get ya assigned.”

You perked up, head downed previously to look at your lap in thought—now at him. “Do tell. I need the hours.”

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” Simon shook his head and rubbed calloused fingers over his lids.

“Didn’t know you were a Lieutenant.” You spoke, voice calmer and hushed now. Simon raised his head up to glance at the jacket, then you. He shifted in his spot, then stood up. The bed bounced.

You watched as he approached his jacket and then grabbed at the thick material, hanging it up in the closet.

For a second your heart pounded—had you said something wrong? Your gaze faltered.

“I was. Till’ I joined ere’.” He then said, to which your nerves eased slightly.

You watched, lip catching between your teeth.

“Why the sudden change?”

“You’re askin’ a lotta questions, bonnie.” Simon said, unable to help the nickname now. You sat straighter and sensed his defensiveness, although it was not as sharp as it used to be.

Even the nickname had you gripped—surely something was changing.

“You don’t have to answer. But that would make you a stranger to me, still.” You said, slowly.

He shut his closet door and faced you, arms crossing. He tilted his head and glanced away in thought for a moment—then eyed you.

“Did you not want us to be strangers anymore?”

And all of a sudden the room felt hot. Intense. Your breath caught, throat squeezing slightly. His piercing gaze did nothing to calm you. You shifted on his desk and your thumb sought to soothe you—rubbing the inside of your pocket. You eyes found his—lips parting to speak.

“Just—friends…?” You awkwardly say. You glance at him and then around the room, needing anything to take the edge off.

“Just friends.” He repeated, as if testing the weight of the word on his tongue. He flexed his neck, before moving closer to you.

Your breath caught—and you froze. He sensed it, but didn’t say anything as both arms pinned you temporarily. Long fingers grabbed at a pen from behind you, and a notepad.

No way. He had to be doing this on purpose, you thought. Your eyes stared deeply into his, knees brushing his waist. Your heart was pounding.

“I need y’er number.” His voice was hushed, like a murmur.

“What for?”

“For Johnny. Don’t ya want the job?” He said it so casually.

You nearly facepalmed and Simon leaned away, waist at the desk, no longer caging you. You still shuddered from his proximity, and bit your lip. His body warmth originally extended to you—but with him gone, it was cold.

Like November.

As you told him your number, you slipped up halfway.

“Not 5–I mean 9.” Probably due to your nerves.

“Slippin’ up, aye?” He couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Get on with it, otherwise I’ll find another job.” You half joked, half threatened. It was empty.

Simon lips curled up even more, revealing teeth. Wolfish. His eyes crinkled under as he gazed at you.

“Nah, you’ll be a’right at this one.”

He then took your number.

——

That night as Simon went to sleep, he couldn’t stop replaying your figure perched up on the desk, hair illuminated softly by oranges and yellows of the sun, the way your lipstick hugged your lips. The way your sweater fell—

Enough. Damn it, Lieutenant. He thought to himself. He needed to do something. Anything.

Once again, 3am. He got up, stiff muscles straining and he grunted. He padded to his desk, pulled out his sketchbook with a sigh and slapped it down. He turned on his lamp, sat down, and began sketching.

By the time he was done, his charcoal rendered a soft, messy elegant figure of yours. Despite that lip you gave sometimes. The most pronounced feature being your eyes: the one thing he found striking.

“Fuckin’ hell…now she’s hauntin’ my mind.” Simons gravelly voice said, as fingers pressed and dragged down his face wearily. He slumped back in his chair, long legs protruding.

And now, she’d be at his job too. He grunted softly, arm moving down to the armrest. Fingers tapped the side in thought, pensive.

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” He remembered his own words.

“Didn’t want her workin’ a damn illegal side hustle…” Simon muttered to himself, getting up. He switched his lamp off, and found himself getting comfortable in bed.

At least, he tried to.

[blackkatmagic]

What are you wroking on right now?

:3

Unease is thick enough for Feemor to choke on, but he nods carefully, following Yoda's steps across the room. When Yoda sinks down, settling himself at a right angle to T'ra, Feemor takes the open spot, and tries not to look like he’s about to crumple in on himself, even though it feels a little like there’s a big, yawning hole right behind his breastbone.

“Is—is the senator all right?” he asks, the words wanting to catch in his throat. Plo had managed to get to the woman in time, but—it was supposed to be Feemor's job, and he’d failed to protect her.

“Safe, she is, and well, hrmm?” Yoda says, and reaches out, patting Feemor's knee gently. “Resume later the negotiations will.”

That’s something. Feemor didn’t actually get anyone killed, even if they would have died without Plo there. It still feels uncomfortably like the end to his chances of ever being a Jedi, but—at least no one was seriously hurt. That’s what Feemor should be focused on.

“It’s not unusual for a padawan to retake their Trials,” T'ra says gently, and she leans in, the thin branches that make up her hair dotted with flowers that fill the air with a calming scent. “And, Feemor—it was normal for a padawan taking the trials so early to struggle.”

Feemor tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I—” he starts, but saying I should have been ready in front of two of the oldest Jedi in the Order feels guttingly like whining. “What happens to me now?” he asks instead, which still sounds pitiable, but bearably so. Feemor's gotten used to feeling pathetic over the past few weeks.

There's a pause as T'ra looks at Yoda and Yoda looks back, and Feemor feels his heart sink down into the pit of his stomach. If the Senate wants to call for him to be prosecuted for his mistakes, there's nothing the Order can do, and—Feemor hadn’t thought it was that terrible a mistake, but—

[adverbally]

The String to Strike Within Me

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts “rough” and “aftercare” | wc: 1,463 | rated: E | cw: | tags: alternate universe - gender changes, female steve harrington, female eddie munson, bdsm, dom steve, sub eddie, rough sex, strap-on, vaginal sex, light degradation, begging, subspace, praise kink | title from “Heaven” by Mitski

Not much of an excerpt here because of the filth after the cut but here ya go:

———

“Anyone ever done this to you before?” Stevie asks teasingly…

as she buries the strap-on in Eddie’s pussy, grinding just a little deeper when her hips meet the back of Eddie’s thighs. “Fucked you with your own toy while you begged for more?”

Eddie’s only response is a whimper, muffled by the bedspread she’s hiding her face in. Stevie threads her fingers in Eddie’s hair, close to the scalp, and pulls her head upward. In Eddie’s current position on her elbows and knees, it forces her neck to crane uncomfortably.

“No,” Eddie gasps, “no, just you.”

“Good girl,” Stevie tells her with a smack! to her ass that makes Eddie clench just as Stevie is thrusting back into her.

She’s never heard this kind of noise from her own mouth before, a high-pitched stuttering cry for more. Eddie’s almost embarrassed for a moment, but then Stevie’s petting her flank like she’s a well-behaved pet and it’s so confusingly sexy that Eddie’s shame melts away like ChapStick in a hot van.

Stevie keeps up her slow and steady pace while her hand on Eddie’s ass rubs in comforting circles. “Okay, sweetheart?”

Eddie honestly doesn’t think she could form the words to explain if she wasn’t okay, but she is. She props one arm up to show Stevie a thumbs up.

Then Stevie’s fingers are digging into Eddie’s hips to pull her back onto the dildo, giving her the leverage to thrust harder. Eddie can hear their skin clapping together with each surge forward, the squelch of her cunt, the unconscious little ah, ah, ah noises pushed out of her with each stroke. The sound of Stevie fucking her might be the most amazing thing she’s ever heard.

“Look at you, being so good for me,” Stevie croons. Her voice jolts with the force of her movements.

Eddie doesn’t even know what else there is, but she’s begging Stevie, “More, please,” hoarse with wanting.

“Of course, baby, thank you for asking so nicely.”

Stevie does something that changes the angle of Eddie’s hips and suddenly the strap-on is hitting deeper than anything that’s ever been inside her. The fullness takes her breath away, especially when Stevie’s fucking her so hard that Eddie has to stick an arm out to keep her head from smashing into the fancy metal headboard of Stevie’s bed. It’s perfect.

“How’s that, sweetheart?”

Eddie sighs into the side of her outstretched arm. Her brain is so tingly with static that she can’t remember how to speak. Instead, she reaches her free hand behind her back as far as she can, waving it until Stevie takes the hint and interlaces their fingers.

“It’s just what you wanted, huh? My little slut, begging me to be rough with you.” Stevie speaks to her softly, squeezes her hand with a gentleness that doesn’t match the brutal movements of her hips. “You just needed me to fuck all those thoughts right out of your brain.”

She did. She had come home and asked for it, needing Stevie to get Eddie out of her head, and it was working. Stevie knows exactly what will drive Eddie into this mindless mess of pleasure: a little pain, a little edge of condescension in her caring words, a little too much stimulation. Rough, hard but slow, leaving Eddie helpless to her inevitable peak. It works every time. It’s working now.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, sweet girl?” Stevie leans over her to speak into Eddie’s ear. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

Eddie obeys automatically. She releases her death grip on the headboard, trusting Stevie’s hold on her to keep her from moving further up the bed, and snakes her arm under her body to toy with her clit. Just soft, glancing touches at first, the kind that make her stomach flutter. When she dips her fingers lower, she meets silicone, feels how her pussy stretches around the girth of the dildo.

Her moan comes out like a sob. “Please, please, Stevie.”

“I’ve got you, honey, you’re almost there.” Stevie showers kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck. “Keep going just like that.”

Gathering the lubricant from around her entrance, Eddie drags her fingertips in clumsy circles around her clit. Oh, it’s good like this, when Eddie can forget everything else and just focus on bringing herself to the edge. She knows Stevie will take care of her, she just has to do this one little thing.

“Gonna come for me, baby? C’mon, I wanna feel you.”

Eddie hopes Stevie can feel her, the way her cunt is squeezing the strap-on, the wetness smearing halfway down Eddie’s thighs, the frantic motion of Eddie’s hand trying to push herself over the edge. Fuck, she’s so close, tightening up like she can’t bear for Stevie to stop, too much and not enough…

The tension snaps when Stevie bites down hard on Eddie’s neck.

She goes quiet when she comes, too strained and breathless for any sound to escape. Her orgasm brings tears to her eyes. She lets them fall onto the bedspread, imagining her stress falling away with each droplet that darkens the fabric. It’s pure relief, physically and mentally.

It’s not until her oversensitivity kicks in that Eddie’s voice comes back. Still without words, just a low groan that drags out while her toes curl in the blankets. It prompts Stevie to let up her merciless thrusts, slowing to a stop with the strap-on still inside Eddie.

“Is that better?” Stevie’s voice loses its faux-sweetness as she checks in. She sounds like the real Stevie now, a little anxious but full of love and genuine questions about Eddie’s wellbeing.

Eddie’s next exhale is a loud sigh. She doesn’t want to talk yet, wants to enjoy the quiet a little longer. But she knows Stevie needs an answer, so she hums, “Mmm-hmm.”

“Does your arm hurt?”

It has been twisted behind her for a while, Eddie has to admit. Reluctantly, she lets go of Stevie’s hand, flexing her fingers and dropping her arm to relax on the mattress next to her. It immediately relieves the pain in her shoulder that she had barely been aware of.

“There you go.” Stevie sits back on her heels, still not pulling out yet. “Anything else hurt?”

Eddie shakes her head. Her pussy is sore but that’s the good kind of hurt, not the bad kind Stevie means. She clenches around the dildo inside her to feel the ache flare again, like pressing on a bruise. It’s not too bad now that Stevie isn’t shoving it in as far as it can go. Eddie wishes it hurt just a little bit more.

“Do you want some water or something?”

No, she wants to lie here and feel Stevie’s warm skin against hers and bask in the love surrounding her and stay in this moment forever. The tears well up again and she shuts her eyes to stop them from overflowing.

“Okay, I’m going to grab a washcloth and clean you up a little—”

Eddie can’t stop the tears any more. “No!” she cries, knowing it’s going to make Stevie worry about her, which makes her cry even more.

Stevie shushes her and runs her hands up and down Eddie’s sides like she’s petting a nervous horse. “Okay, it’s okay. I’ll stay right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She bites her tongue on an apology. Stevie always tells her she doesn’t have to be sorry for how she feels, especially not after a scene. It still feels wrong, making Stevie scramble to appease her. She definitely can’t say she’s sorry for being sorry, so she just sniffles into the bedspread instead.

“Is it okay for me to pull out, sweetheart? Then I can lay down and hold you.”

“Please?”

Stevie does just that, twisting awkwardly to shimmy out of the strap-on harness and settle next to Eddie without disturbing the bed too much. She pulls Eddie close, letting her head rest on her chest and combing her fingers through the sweaty tangle of Eddie’s hair. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Eddie croaks, and it’s not a lie. Her cheek is pillowed on one of Stevie’s fantastic tits, surrounded by strong arms and soft curves and shiny hair and sweet perfume.

“Good.” Stevie presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You were so good for me, baby. Did everything I asked.”

The praise settles into the hollow spaces inside Eddie, the part of her that feels empty without Stevie inside her. The praise fills her like she’s a helium balloon and Stevie’s arms around her are the ribbon tethering her to the ground so she doesn’t fly away.

She floats comfortably into sleep like that, held and loved and lighter than air.

[steakout-05]

medic tf2 doodles?!?!?? in this economy!???!?!? (art from yesterday)

most gentle and sweet middle aged german man in the whole entire world smile vs planning to swap all of your organs with a series of interconnected frogs smile

a doodle i did of Medic and Archimedes.... he looks too round in this drawing, not smug and evil enough..... also Mitzi from the RAE appearance :D

i LOVE the voicelines Medic has with Haunted Archimedes, he's not disturbed or even slightly put off by the fact that his zombified dove is 1. talking and 2. has a violent and constant craving for brains. he's just like. being a slightly irritated pet owner about it. he's just like "ugh yes archimedes vants all zhe brains doesn't he. now shut up". also i think this is the most on-model medic drawing i've ever done wtf

[malaierba]

Been thinking, there's an issue with how creators and readers often approach the theme of "coming back wrong", since so much of the emphasis ends up being put in the "they came back part". Especially on the readers' side, the idea that someone would do whatever it takes to bring you back is parsed as romantic and devoted, which it can be, but it overlooks a big element of the concept.

Coming back wrong, or even just performing forbidden rituals etc in general, for it to be impactful needs to place a big AND constant focus on the in-universe equivalents of Do Not Resuscitate & bodily autonomy when one can't consent.

It's not just the coming back. It's that you don't know what type of body, what type of mind you're coming back to. It's the dysphoria, if it can exist (and it should), and the expectation that you'll be okay with whatever was done to your inert body when you couldn't decide over it. You're back, you're alive, surely you can get over the circumstances under which it happened, be thankful.

You don't even need to get abstract with "the inherent feeling of wrongness that comes from being brought back from death", most humans can't relate to that, it's vague to the point where it isn't real stakes. It's just a non-issue mentioned to give a fake sense of stakes.

But if you take inspiration on DNR, from people whose lifestyle was changed radically from being saved from a situation where they may have preferred to be allowed to pass on. Like, say:

You come back, and you gotta learn to use your body from zero, and you'll be reliant on others forever. Or you come back and you look so different you feel disconnected from yourself, and every waking moment is uncomfortable. Or you come back, and too much time has passed, you feel like the life you were meant to live got away from you. Or you come back, and what was done to your changes you so fundamentally you end up isolated even if it's no one's intention. Or the ones that brought you back didn't do it selfishly but out of entitlement to your life.

The wrongness needs to be acknowledged often to the point of tediousness, only then would the spectator get a real sense of "okay, I see now why that'd be an issue, and why many would hate it".

[mariocki]

Lo voglio morto (I Want Him Dead, 1968)

"If the Confederates and the Yankees sign a truce, the two of us are ruined!"

"And so?"

"So, they have to keep killing each other until we've sold everything. Everything, right down to the last cartridge!"

[creamecream]

“How may we be of service, dear patron?”

Roselie, Fenir, and Lucious belong to @abyssnighthawk

[minakoaiinos]

Animating this season like you can't have the slightest bit of jest and god forbid jesting about yaoi

[cheonstapes]

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘THE SWEETER THE JUICE’ o(^-^)o

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

now he’s finally got you pregnant, he’s gonna do what he’s been dreaming of all these years. suck. those. tits.

same universe as this miguel.

cw; lactation kink, pregnancy, breeding kink (not really but yknow me), dry humping, titties, older nerd!miguel, they’re finally married!

800+ words

@cheonstapes : she’s back! again!

if miguel had to pick a part of your body he loved the most, it’d definitely be your tits.

if you think he was obsessed before — you don’t wanna know what goes through his head as he watches you waddle around his house, carrying his kid, sighing every time you leak through another shirt. you had forgone a bra ever since you got pregnant, saying how uncomfortable they feel against your chest — not that he was complaining.

“for fucks-sake, again?”

he was so used to hearing you say that, he already had a shirt on hand for you to change into. you were so grateful for your doting husband that you completely missed that nasty glint in his eyes you usually only see when he’s bending you over the bed and fucking you raw — luckily for him.

“here, honey. lift your arms for me.”

as you do, he pulls the shirt up — the soiled fabric catching under your swollen breasts as he wiggles it off you. “ah, shit — thanks, baby. but fuck, am i’m so tired of changing shirts every 10 minutes!” you might be tired, but miguel cannot get enough of it. he was already so fucking hard, practically salivating at the sight of your bare breasts still leaking down your heavy belly.

“maybe you should just ditch the shirts all together, love — you know i hate seeing my beautiful wife uncomfortable.” miguel’s voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lips slowly tracing down the side of your jaw to your sensitive neck — kissing the skin so tenderly. his calloused hands gently massaged the taut flesh of your tits, probing and squeezing at your nipples to let out small trickles of that sweet milk.

“migs, how many times are you gonna say that?”

“as many as it takes for you to finally listen.”

the breathy laugh you let out did little to qualm the feeling deep in his gut — he was dead serious, there was absolutely no reason for you to be in shirts all the time when you have him to take care of you whenever you needed a good milking. his hips were already sinking into to the plush of your ass that he loved oh-so-much — especially with how much fatter it got during your pregnancy.

it was almost as if he had lost control of his body, a hand landing on your waist to bend you over the counter as he mindlessly ruts into you. “dios, nena, eres tan hermosa. vas a ser la mamá más guapa, ¿verdad? mm, my pretty, little mama.” miguel never failed to turn you on to no bounds, like, you have a walking greek god as a husband — but those fucking hormones were making it unbearable.

the force at which he was pushing against you had shifted your drenched panties to the side, leaving practically nothing between you and his drooling bulge. his fingers tightened around the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh delicious hard as his free hand flipped you over — pushing your back against the edge of the counter. “shit…been waiting to taste these all fucking day, honey.”

mindful of your growing belly, he hiked one of your legs up on his hip — craning his neck down to suck on a pert nipple. wasting no time, and at a much better angle, he continued to grind against you — his tip catching against your engorged clit. “m—migs, baby, fuck…” the way he swirled and sucked so eagerly reminded you of when you first started dating, how determined he was to knock you up before the two of you even moved in together.

the taste was so addicting, some of your milk trickling down his body — dripping onto the ground beneath you. you knew he was about to cum, hard — his eyes had rolled back, breathing in heavy pants, hands rushing to pull down the waistband of his sweats. “gonna paint my girls in my cum, love — sé una buena chica y mantenlos juntos para mí.”

“‘course, baby.” you nodded breathlessly, squishing the globes of fat together as he pumped his cock dry — head thrown back as ropes upon ropes of his hot seed coated your tits, sliding into the self-made crevice. “god, what did i do in my past life to have a wife as sexy as you, mamí?” his spent cock bobbed against his thigh as he trapped you against the counter — kissing you deeply as his wet hands reaching up to rub the cum into the skin of your breasts.

“mmph — y’know, i heard cum’s good for the skin. it, uh, helps with the blood circulation in your tits — i think we should do this more often, love.”

“migs, if you weren’t, like — a whole scientist, i might’ve believed you. if you want a titjob, just say that.”

“…i mean, you said it — not me.”

all your home shirts were promptly locked away and never to be seen again.

-new year, new waiting for cheon to get her shit together andpost!

[newttxt]

the best way to luffy’s stomach is through his heart (or something like that)

a four page one piece fancomic in which luffy and law talk about luffy’s stomach

page 1

panel 1: a top view of luffy and law sitting in grass. luffy is leaning back on his hands with his legs outstretched. law sits crosslegged between them. they are both looking down at the hole in luffy’s abdomen, where law has used his devil fruit power to remove his stomach. “whoa! cool!” says luffy, while law hums, “hmm… interesting.”

panel 2: a close-up of law’s hand holding luffy’s stomach in its cube-like container. “it looks surprisingly average,” law says, “for a bottomless pit.”

panel 3: “isn’t it weird?” luffy asks. he is sitting with his back to the viewer, but his smile is still visible as he leans into law’s space. law is still crosslegged, holding the stomach, and he looks vaguely uncomfortable as luffy keeps talking. luffy says, “that thing can make food stop looking like food and start looking like poop! huh. wonder how it does that…”

page 2

panel 1: law looks off to the side, sweating and kinda grouchy. knowing he’ll regret this, he mutters, “i… know how… at least for NORMAL humans.”

panel 2: the back of luffy’s head takes up most of the panel as he demands, “what?! i wanna know too!” law grits his teeth and shouts back, “you’re just gonna fall asleep!” and luffy yells, “nuh-uh!”

panel 3: luffy grins widely, throws his arms out to the side, and flops onto his back in the grass. he’s loudly yelling, “tell me! tell me, traffy!”

page 3

panel 1: law is visible from a low-angle, as if from luffy’s pov on the ground. he sighs, “fine. here’s how it works.”

panel 2: this panel looks similar to the previous, but its slightly darker, with gray bars at the top and bottom, narrowing visibility to show luffy’s eyes are closing. law continues, “the stomach has two main functions.”

panel 3: law is now barely visible through the gap. luffy is almost asleep. law says, “the first, as YOU know, is the storage of food.”

panel 4: the background is completely dark, and law’s words trail off, “the second is—“

page 4

panel 1: a large, top view of luffy lying on his back in the grass. his arms are thrown wide still and his eyes are open. he has just jolted awake, saying, “hmm?” off-screen, law complains, “i don’t know WHY i bothered.”

panel 2: law accuses, “you didn’t listen to a word i said.” luffy sits up, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed because he’s a terrible liar. he says, “sure i did,” dragging out the “sure.”

panel 3: luffy breaks into a grin and proudly declares, “it’s a mystery!” law cuts him off with a “NO,” his speech bubble literally dripping with disdain.

panel 4: the silhouette of luffy and law sitting side by side. law is whapping luffy on the head with a light fist. law says, “idiot…” before bonking him. luffy yells, “hey!” but he is laughing, and a small “heh” shows law is too.

[tbaluver]

I feel like you’re the perfect author to get this done!! I was wondering if you could do the l&ds boys and their reactions to you crying during sex? Not because you’re upset but either from a genuine love for them or overwhelming feelings and sensations. I love your work so so much!!! <333

When You Cry During Sex- The Love And DeepSpace Men

genre/warning: smut included MDNI, comfort and some fluff

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie!! im so so happy to hear you love my work! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ i hope this is alright and that you'll enjoy this !!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He gazes down at you with a look that combined lust and adoration, one hand reaching to gently cradle your cheek. He sinks into you so slowly as his hands roam free. He lowers his head down where his lips kiss at your neck. He pants and gasps against you, thrusting inside of you deeply. It's the way he took his time with you to give you what you want. Your bodies connected, souls intertwined. He was always so tender and affectionate with you that you didn't even notice the tears racing down your cheeks. Oh how you loved this man so deeply.

He would be SO worried. He would be internally panicking the moment he saw your tears. He'd slowly stop his pace and start asking multiple questions if you were uncomfortable or in any pain while wiping your tears away. He'd also ask if you'd want to stop but you'd cut him off and say no because that's the last thing you want and you were so so close to your climax.

He'd relax to hear you were okay while wiping any extra tears that ran down and replacing each tear with a kiss. You'd apologize for crying but he truly does not care because he insist that he will always be there for you and to wipe any of your tears away. He'd continue his pace to reach your climax and to meet his own.

Zayne:

With his perfectly angled thrusts, you can already feel the intense pleasure building inside of you. Your fingers fist his hair, gripping and pulling at the strands while he thrusts himself into you. An elongated groan strings from his lips as you tug his hair, his head tilting back with your pull, mouth agape while sighs escape him. His eyes peer down, continuing to stay locked on you.

He was so deep inside you, his cock twitching at the sight of his tip pushing slightly against the skin of your lower belly. The way his long fingers curling tighter into your hips to fuck you even harder. The way the man you love always made you feel so so good. He was also so affectionate and prioritized you first even to make you feel so good.

The pleasure coursed through your body with every quick and deep pump of his cock that you didn't even realize the tears tracing down your cheeks.

He would freeze, literally

His pacing would stop, immediately asking you multiple questions of "Are you hurt?" "Would you like me stop?" while he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears.

When you reassured him and explained what happened he was patient and relaxed to hear you were okay. He would always be understanding and sweet. He would draw you in closer, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before gently pressing another kiss on your lips. It wouldn't take long for you both to get back to where you were and help finish you off.

Rafayel:

Rafayel liked having you on top of him because he can see you bouncing on top of him with your tips going up and down and seeing your face contorting with pleasure every time he reached a little deeper inside you. You work on his cock as your hands roam around his sculpted chest. Both of your grunts and moans echoed in the room as you fastened the pace. You were so close to your orgasm as your movement began to get sloppy. You were desperately chasing your high that you were unaware of the tears quietly sliding down your face.

The tears running down your face made Rafayel panic. He'd stop completely and sit up as he wipes the tears staining your cheeks while babbling "Are you okay?" and "I'm so so sorry." He would get cut off mid sentence when you'd whine and beg to let you continue while pulling him closer so he'd understand.

He would smirk understanding what those tears meant and let you continue back to work. But this time he would take control and grab your hips bringing you up and down, slowing your pace to tease you. "Tell me how much you love bouncing on my cock pretty girl."

Sylus:

Watching your face contort into pleasure was one of his favorite things. He starts thrusting faster, rougher than before, his own sounds of pleasure mixed with yours bounced off the bedroom walls. You whine from the sensation as his places his lips onto yours to soothe you, to comfort you.

Sylus was always so warm and big inside of you. The way your tight hole was fluttering around his girth made you see stars. You don't remember how many times you came on his cock as he rutted against you. Your legs were wide open as his cock was pumping in and out of you in such a fast motion that you didn't even realize tears are leaking from your eyes.

He refused to always take his eyes off you. He's always an observant partner so when he saw the tears run down your cheeks, he would slow down. His voice would be so gentle and ask if you were in any pain and if you would like to stop completely. When he heard you whine to go continue, he would pick up the original pace and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Am I making you feel that good baby? Do you want more?" While kissing the back side of your knuckles or down your neck to your collarbone.

[lovegasmic]

Hey , plzzz plzzz do 2nd part of daddy’s best friend 😭

 DADDY’S BEST FRIEND !

𖥔 your father’s best friend, Gojo Satoru, who is sick or masturbating to the thought of you, will you finally let him have a taste ?

──── mdni . f!reader, age gap, unprotected sex , mention of creampie, this got nasty / pos. first part.

the constant urge, and ache of his cock, made it almost impossible for Satoru to leave your home that one afternoon when he finally, finally got to taste your sweet cunt, but of course, your father had to arrive and ruin your fun. or else you would have been walking with wobbly legs through the whole weekend.

having grown accustomed to jerk off his cock to the thought of you, it was not too hard to go home, shove his pants down and pump the fat girth while licking his teeth for any remaining of your slick that clung to his mouth.

day after day, Satoru’s visits to your home just increase, although your father is not surprised since the white haired often joined for dinner, unaware of the constant smiles and flirtatious touches you and the older man share, not to mention the times Satoru has sloppily sucked your pussy for every little drop of delicious slick against the same kitchen counter when your father had to stay longer at the office.

“S’toru” you had murmured a day, legs spread and feet dangling off his shoulders like your panties dangled off one of your ankles, too eager to properly take off your clothes and slide his head under your skirt.

a hum, “yhesh, baby?” not stopping the lewd sucking of his already reddened and plump lips around your tender folds, drooling all over your pussy and dripping down the crack of your ass onto the couch.

“i— u-uh, want you to fuck me” and he stops, your words ringing in his ears like it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, pulling back slightly to look into your cute half lidded eyes and flustered expression.

“are you sure, honey? i don’t want to pressure you” liar, Satoru could feel the veins of his cock throbbing and tip oozing precum into his expensive boxers.

a weak nod is what he gets, “mhm, i’m sure” why did you have to look so perfect while begging to be fucked? that was utterly unfair.

you’ve come to realize Satoru is a messy, messy man, much different to the pristine suit he always wore, hair perfectly slicked back and masculine cologne that clings to his body and clothes.

who could have expected he was into messy sex?

his fingers are so long, you realize, having them gripping the whole length of your forehead, touching the tops of your eyes, while the palm tightly pressed on the top of your head, pulling you back to meet every impossibly hard thrust of his cock into your soaked cunt, punching the air out of your lungs.

his grip tightened occasionally, mimicking the way your pussy sucked his cock, and pulling you back to give you a messy kiss, having you just lay and take everything like the good girl you are, too fucked stupid to even respond to a kiss that just left you more dizzy, saliva smeared all over your mouth and your insanity slipping with each suck of Satoru’s lips around your tongue.

the pool of slick and precum that stuck to your belly against the sheets was growing uncomfortable, yet unable to voice your complaining since all you could do was gasp little “uh, uh, uh’s” from the way your body jolted back and forth.

“good fuckin’ pussy” how was he even capable of speaking? with how hard he drove into your trembling form, and the way his words came out ragged, you expected for Satoru to go as dumb as you were, yet he didn’t, continuously tensing his jaw and praising the warmth of your cunt, “that’s right baby, such a good girl taking all of my cock into your tiny hole, hngh.. fuck, will make me cum deep into your perfect pussy”

soon your saliva joined the mess in the sheets, with eyes crossed and jaw slack, drooling all over your jiggling tits at the sudden angle change of Satoru’s hips, abusing your g-spot as if attempting to crave the shape of his cock deep inside your walls.

“staying with a friend? alright” how easy to fool was your father, agreeing for you to stay with a made up friend when in reality, you were to stay at Satoru’s penthouse for the nth time, your father’s best friend who was now your boyfriend, and judging the box in his suit jacket, the one you had no idea about, perhaps, future fiance.

[saturngas]

hickeys on display

[🪐] satoru wears proudly the hickeys you left on him last night

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: established relationship; only one suggestive paragraph; crack fic? again me trying to be funny; nanami mentioned!; slight possessive traits;

word count: 1k

..

nanami sometimes pitied you. you were a good human being, a nice woman, a devoted and strong sorcerer. but why did the world reward you with this menace that calls itself satoru?

the moment his eyes landed on the tall sorcerer walking in the bakery shop, nanami swore he wanted to throw himself off the window.

satoru had convinced him to go out to his favorite bakery shop to spend time while his beautiful wife returned from the mission. the blonde man actually didn't have any other plans for the day, so he could bare a couple of hours with the strongest.

but not like this.

Japanese culture revolved in humbleness and respect towards others. satoru was anything but that. he had gained multiple stares since he landed on the bakery, all eyes focused on the angry marks on his attractive neck and collarbones.

"what happened to you? were you attacked on your way here?" nanami asked sarcastically as satoru sat down in front of him.

"what do you mean, nanamin?" he faigned ignorance as he adjusted himself on his sit, his large hands fidgeting with the menu. nanami sent him a dead stare, not believing his cluelessness. "oh this?" he pointed to his exposed skin. "oh it's just that I miss my wife so much. I also want anyone to know im so taken."

Nanami couldn't believe his ears. he wanted to choke the hell out of the sorcerer for being so shameless.

"your ring is sufficient."

satoru eyed the silver band adorning his ring finger, the lovely reminder of your wedding playing on his head. "well, yeah I guess... but people dont usually look at other's people hands first."

the curious and judgmental stares from the strangers in the store were making nanami a bit uncomfortable. maybe he should just have his baguette as a take out.

"nanamin, have you ordered yet? I think ill have the strawberry cheesecake and a vanilla milkshak— what are you doing?"

in front of him was nanami holding up his phone, hands ready to take a picture of satoru as an evidence to you and a reminder to him to never go out with him again.

"im sending your wife a picture of you. I hope she doesn't approve this and takes you home away from people." as soon as satoru heard the mention of his wife, he stood taller in his sit, puffing out his hard chest, his exposed bruised neck more on display as a boyish grin struck his face.

"haha, okie~" a fit of giggles left his lips that made nanami exhale the hardest he had that evening. "please tell her I miss her and that I love her with all my heart."

come get your husband. he has no shame.

your phone buzzed in your pocket as a final puff left the remaining of the curses you just have exorcized. you checked the message sent by a good friend of yours, nanami. you couldn't help but laugh.

since you were called for a quick mission not too far from tokyo, poor satoru was left alone without his pretty wife. he insisted on going with you, however you reminded him of the house chores he had been avoiding the past weeks.

your husband had a habit of sending you recurrent messages whenever you were away. it could be him on a mission overseas sending you pictures of himself in every angle just to crack a smile on your face. or it could be him spamming you on texting him back if you left him on read by accident.

right now, it had been around thirty minutes since satoru had informed you he had finished his duties, sending you visual proof—he would often get away with it—and a dozens of messages declaring he missed you and was miserable without you, so he let you know he would be visiting nanami, probably because there wasn't anyone within his range he could bother.

what you didn't expect was the photo attached to nanami´s previous message.

satoru was sitting in a booth—probably in some bakery shop—with one of the biggest grins you had seen on his angelic face. his baby blue eyes were covered by his rectangular glasses and his white hair was a bit messy.

but what immediately caught your attention wasn't his toothy grin or his perfect jawline—it was the shameless exposure of his bare neck, where purple and red marks decorated the pale skin of his collarbones, neck, and trapezius.

the night before was a night. satoru made you feel so full that your eyes were at one point covered in tears of pleasure, your jaw as tight as ever as you took all of him so well. the carnal heat inside you was boiling and daring to explote, so you released it with snug bites on satoru's skin, anywhere within your range, making him groan and hiss in painful arousal. there were moments where you would almost chew on the rosy skin to suppress the loud moans. satoru took good care of you. but now?

your husband deliberately decided to wear that low collar sweatshirt you loved so much. but not right now! how was he so uncaring about showing the entire world your marital business?

a sighed left your lips as you replied to nanami with an "im coming," before departing your way to the place, already having the directions since satoru left his location on with you all the time.

"please dont ever do this, toru."

"then dont give me these hickeys! and dont leave me alone too much! I need to remind myself you still exist, baby."

"I was done with my mission in like two hours!"

"oh wow, you are getting stronger pookie bear."

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

hello guysss, im working on other works because I have like so many ideas but it's kinda hard to write them all the way I want to. im also working on pt 2 of some works some of y'all have suggested. bare with me alr :]

[sailortongue]

Unexpected Consequences

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: a temporary lapse in judgment results in a drunken one-night stand with unexpected consequences

wc: 2.1k

cw: accidental pregnancy, implied sex. if there's anything you think should be added lmk!

navi | k.s. mlist | series mlist

----------

“You’re out!” Shouted the umpire. It was the visiting team's third player to strike out, signaling the end of the last inning of the championship game and a massive win for the Giants. 

The locker room was alive with the sounds of laughter and celebration from the players. They did it. They had won the title. “We should go out tonight,” suggested the pitcher. Some of the players declined, citing that they were beat after the game. But Kenji was on a high from the win, his ego thriving like never before (and that was saying something).

“Got a place in mind?” Kenji asked. And that was how he found himself sitting on a barstool with a handful of his teammates, mostly the younger ones. He felt like he was on top of the world. He was young, successful, good looking, and one of the greatest living baseball players. And now, he had a shiny new title to brag about. Life couldn’t possibly be any better.

Except, maybe, if the pretty girl across the bar would give him her attention. He could see you from where he was sitting, and he found himself frequently glancing in your direction. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. His teammate Shiroki leaned over to see what, or rather who, had so completely captured the attention of their star player. He clapped Kenji on the shoulder, laughing. “Should’ve known it was a pretty girl that’s got you ignoring us!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” Kenji protested, his face growing red after he’d been called out for all ears in the establishment to hear. Including yours. When he glanced once more in your direction, you were looking back. You gave him a small, polite smile before returning your attention to the cellphone in your hand. Your expression was one of dejectedness as you sighed and placed your phone face down on the bar top.

Amidst the teasing of his teammates (that truthfully he was ignoring in favor of you), he took a swig of his drink and decided to bite the bullet. If not now then never. He hopped off of his stool and walked over to you. “Is this seat taken?” He asked, gesturing to the empty stool next to you.

“You tell me since you’ve been watching since I sat down,” you said with a playful twinkle in your eyes. 

Kenji cringed. So you had noticed even before Shiroki practically shouted it to the entire bar. He scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, head hung low in shame and embarrassment as he struggled to find the words to redeem himself. He settled for a simple “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You seemed taken aback by his words, not having expected him to own up to his actions and be respectful. “Thank you,” you said. He was handsome—that much was obvious. But it was this that really caught your attention. “So, are you going to sit or not?” You asked. 

Kenji grinned and took the place next to you, angling his body towards yours rather than the countertop. He stuck his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m Kenji.”

“I’m Yn,” you responded, taking his offer for a handshake to find that his hand completely engulfed yours. 

The two of you ended up talking on and on, having drink after drink and gradually getting to know each other. You learned that he was an athlete celebrating a win with his team and that he’d only moved back to Japan a few months ago. Kenji learned that the reason you were here alone is because you were supposed to be meeting someone but they never showed up. “His loss,” Kenji had said. “Any man to stand up a woman as pretty as you is a fool.”

He complimented you continuously throughout the night, his honeyed words sending heat to both your face and your core. As the night wore on, his teammates came up to him to wish him a good night and inform him that they were leaving for the night. It was getting late, but neither of you were ready to leave each other's company. 

“Do you wanna go back to my place?” Kenji asked, his hand on your thigh leaving no room for doubt as to what he was offering. 

The alcohol in your system had long since excised your inhibitions, including any form of higher thinking. All you could focus on was Kenji’s hand on your thigh and how much you wanted it somewhere else. Somewhere higher. You accepted his offer with no hesitation. 

A short cab ride later and you were stumbling into his bedroom with his lips firmly on yours and his hands impatiently pulling at your dress. You reached behind your back to tug at the zipper, and he took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the toned muscle beneath. 

You all but gawked at him and your body seemed to have the same effect on him. His eyes raked up and down your figure, pleased to find you hadn’t been wearing a bra. You sat at the edge of his bed as you watched him strip the remainder of his clothes. The second he was bare he was on you, wanting—needing—to feel you under him. He was everywhere all at once, eager to make you feel good and to feel good himself. Little sleep was had that night. 

-❀-

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache and no memory of the night before, but you could make a pretty good guess based on your lack of clothes and the pair of arms wrapped around you. You sat up slowly so as not to wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. It was Kenji, from the night before at the bar. You’d actually gone home with him. One night stands weren’t something you made a habit of but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret this one.

You carefully removed his arm from where it had fallen limply across your lap and rose from the bed to collect your clothes, still being as quiet as possible. You wracked your brain for any shred of a memory but came up blank. You couldn’t believe you’d slept with the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and couldn’t even remember it. Your attention was drawn to a mirror hung on the wall and you saw that your neck was littered with blue and purple splotches. An attentive lover. Drunk-you must have had fun. Meanwhile, sober-you was calling a cab and hoping the driver didn’t say anything about what was so obviously the walk of shame. 

Weeks went by and the days were normal. Ish. You’d been sick every morning for the past week and were struggling to hold food down. You’d brushed it off as a stomach bug that would clear up on its own, but your friend wasn’t as naïve as you. 

The day you confided in her about what you’d been struggling with, she dropped by your apartment after work to bring a pregnancy test. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bag into your hands. “And I'm not leaving until you take it.”

You nodded, accepting the very real possibility that she was right. Why didn’t you think to get plan B the next morning? God, you were so stupid. So there you were, sitting on the bathroom floor with your knees pulled to your chest, waiting on the timer to finish as Ami sat next to you, doing her best to ease your anxiety. 

When the timer went off, you remained in your seated position. “Do you want me to check instead?” Ami offered. You shook your head, taking a deep breath to steel your nerves. You extended your arm above your head and took the test into your hands. Two solid lines. A positive result. Your friend looked over your shoulder to see for herself. “. . . Are you okay?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” you replied, voice weak and trembling. You looked at her with wide, worried eyes. “What do I do?”

“Make an OBGYN appointment just to be sure. Do you know who the father is?”

There was only one man you had slept with any time recently. “Uh, he said his name was Kenji. Don’t know his last name though. Oh! And he’s a baseball player.”

She inhaled sharply and pulled her phone from her pocket and typed furiously into the search bar. She turned the screen for you to see. “Him?!” She exclaimed. 

You looked at the image she pulled up. “Yeah, that’s him,” you gasped, shocked she’d found him so quickly. You took the phone from her and scrolled through the article she’d pulled up. Kenji Sato, as you’d learned his last name to be, wasn’t just any baseball player. He was in the professional league and a rising household name. 

“Can you contact him?” She asked. You shook your head no. Ami pursed her lips before resigning herself to whatever it was she was considering. She gestured for her phone back. You gave it to her and she opened her contacts, scrolling until she found the name she was looking for. “You know him?” You asked incredulously.

She nodded. “I’ve interviewed him before.” She called his number before you could refuse and put the phone on speaker, allowing the dial tone to ring throughout the small bathroom. He picked up on the third ring, answering with a simple hello.

“Hi, Mr. Sato. This is—“

“I remember who you are,” Kenji laughed. “Is there something you need?”

Ami hesitated, seeing you aggressively shaking your head to not outright tell him. She tried to hold the phone out to you to speak but you point blank refused. You had both been so drunk you weren’t sure if he remembered you at all. A drawn out “hello” called out from the phone and Ami sighed. “I think it would be best to speak in person. It’s very important.”

“Um, okay. I’ll have to check my schedule to see when I’m free, but I’ll get back to—“

“No, Mr. Sato, it can’t wait indefinitely. Please, I need you to trust me and make just a little bit of time.” Kenji was taken aback by how firm Ami’s voice was. What was happening on her end that needed his immediate attention? Curiosity won him over and he suggested a cafe that stayed open late to meet at. 

You put the address into your phone and thanked Ami for her help. Sure, this wasn’t the best way to go about things, but it’s not like you had ever been in this position before. You and Ami walked out to your cars together, hugging each other goodbye before going on your separate ways—her to her mother and daughter, and you to inform your baby daddy that he is, in fact, a baby daddy now. 

Upon arriving, you saw that it was a cute cafe along the main road. The building was well lit within, allowing you to see that Kenji had already arrived. If you waited any longer you’d chicken out, so you took a deep breath and marched inside. Kenji looked up at the door as the bell chimed, his face changing from one of disinterest to shock and recognition.

You approached the table he was at and pulled out a chair, sitting across from him. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here,” he said apologetically.

The best you could muster up was an awkward smile, your nerves eating you alive from the inside out. “I know. Ami Wakita, right? She’s a friend of mine as well. She actually called on my behalf.”

A grin spread across his face. “Did you miss me so much you just had to see me tonight?” You felt his foot brush against your ankle under the table. 

Your face burned with heat at his insinuation. “It's not like that!”

He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “No? Because I was hoping to see you again but you were gone when I woke up.”

You averted your gaze sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t usually . . .” you trailed off. 

He gave you an understanding look. “It’s alright. For the record, I don’t either. That night was . . .” 

It seemed he didn’t have the words either, unable to express that he wished it hadn’t been just a one-night thing. “So,“ he abruptly changed the topic. “Why did you need to see me so badly?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, contemplating how best to say it. No use beating around the bush. “I’m pregnant.”

His jaw dropped open and his eyes were the size of dinner plates. And so were those of the reporter at a nearby table. 

next

[bandgie]

Behave

prof!heesung x dean!Jake x fem!reader

3.1k words

warnings! mdni18+, DUBCON, 3some, throat fucking, piv, no protection, creampie, manipulation, cum eating (f!), fingering, reader is called 'slut' multiple times, abuse of power themes notes: please don't read if you're not comfortable OR before you read this! I also finally figured out how to do the three picture thingies yay!

All you did was talk back

There wasn’t any shouting, no cursing, no physical violence. Your professor was being a dick, as per usual, and you found it best to let him know how you didn’t appreciate his behavior. Truly, you didn’t think you said anything bad. Nothing that warranted an intense meeting between your professor and the university dean.

Professor Lee Heesung stood with his arms crossed, glasses resting low on his nose as he regarded you with disdain. It took everything in you to keep your eyes from rolling as the dean sat on his desk, disciplining your behavior. 

“I think an apology is much needed to your professor, missy.”

Missy. You swear you see red when you hear those words. Mr. Sim Jae-yun doesn’t even acknowledge how demeaning that is to say. Not when he’s too busy looking at the exposed part of your thighs that bugle from you sitting. He’s beginning to think he should talk to the president to implement a rule that skirts must go past your knees. It doesn’t matter if being in a university doesn’t require a uniform, he’ll make it happen. 

You scoff, crossing your arms in the same manner as Professor Lee. “With all due respect, Mr. Sim, I think not. Everyone in that class hates him. He’s such an ass.”

“Oh, I’m the ass?” Heesung unfolds his arms to point at you accusingly. “You’re the one wearing shorts that only show ass. I don’t need to take any type of ridicule from a slut-in-training.”

Any comeback you had quickly dies in your throat. It’s not as though you’ve never been called names before, but from a professor, that’s a first. You clear your throat and blink, still in slight disbelief. “See?” You look at Jake with desperation. “He’s being a dick right in front of you!”

But the dean doesn’t agree. All he does is sigh, “To be fair, it is really short.”

You groan. “As if any of that matters! I’m not gonna apologize to this asshole. And you can’t make me.” Ignoring their gawks, you huff and turn your head the other way. Maybe it would be better to swallow your pride and give them what they want. It would get them off your back and, hopefully, get everything back to normal. Yet, you catch yourself replaying how Heesung easily called you a whore and how the dean did little to nothing about it. Worst of all, how the tiniest part of you almost liked knowing that they were looking at you in a way that university staff should not.

The men exchange glances - looks you miss that involve smirks and nods. 

“Go ahead and stand up.” It’s Jake who directs you. Rather than turning your whole head, you only peek from the side of your eyes. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll be expelled,” he says factly. Now you fully turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’re already stuttering about how he can’t do that, but he shuts you up with, “If you don’t want to give an apology, the least you can do is stand.”

So you do, hesitantly, but you do. Their gaze drops to your legs and you begin to tug your skirt just a few inches lower. It doesn’t matter how hot these men are, they still pissed you off. You couldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your plush skin. Not unless they deserved it, of course. 

Heesung crosses one arm over his chest while his other hand is at his chin, putting him in a thinking pose. He regards you much differently now. There's not as much disgust than there is interest. He takes a few steps around you, getting a good look at every angle.

You shift from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with his blatant stalking. “I don’t understand how this is going to help.”

Jake stands from his place at the desk and walks closer to you. Granted, he’s not the tallest man, but you find yourself shrinking from his aura. A presence that demands attention, respect. His ringed fingers grab a hold of your chin so you look him in the eyes. “You don’t know how to listen, but I think we can fix that. All you need is some discipline. If you wanna stay enrolled, I suggest you behave for us starting now.”

You’re too stunned to say anything. No words can form even when Heesung places his hand on your lower back. He applies pressure until you arch, the skirt inevitably exposing your panties for him to see. 

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he tuts. “I don’t understand how you expect me to act professional with you when you dress like this.” Heesung uses his other hand to reach down, cupping your clothed mound with no warning. 

The warmth of his hand makes you gasp and Jake takes the opportunity to slip his thumb in your mouth. It’s not supposed to work on you, but it manages to turn your whimpers into mewls instead as you softly suck on it. The pad of his finger presses onto your tongue and you dutifully open your throat so he can shove it deeper. 

Jake can’t help but smile, one side of his lips slightly turned more upwards than the other when he looks at you. All it takes is Heesung to apply more pressure to your cunt to make you suck harder. He can feel his cock hardening in his slacks, the blood leaving his head to rush to his groin instead.

Perhaps he’ll be able to blame his terrible decisions on that fact.

You whine when Heesung pulls away from you, placing his hands on either side of your hips to guide you closer to the dean’s desk. It’s all too quick when you find yourself bent over the wooden table, legs kicked open so your thighs are apart, and your hands bound by Jake’s grip. 

“It truly is a shame we have to do it like this,” he sighs, though it hardly sounds regretful in the slightest. “But we just can’t trust you’ll be good for us, not yet anyway.”

Being restrained makes you twist and turn, trying to escape from the men who have you pinned down. Your stomach squeezes with fear, but you’re starting to think a different, more intense emotion, slithers its way to your core. “W-wait,” you turn your head in an attempt to look at them. “You can’t do this. I’ll get you fired. I’ll tell.”

“Oh no!” Heesung mocks fear in his voice. “Did you hear that, Jake? She’s gotta tattletale on us!” He laughs wholeheartedly, making sure to keep your thighs pried open no matter how much you try and push them together. “Even if you do, who do you think they’ll believe?”

His finger trails up your slit, prodding your entrance before sliding back down to your clothed clit. You jolt so violently that you lurch forward and whine. Heesung and Jake chuckle at your reactions, lifting your skirt over your ass so it’s only your panties in the way. 

“Good, slut,” Heesung coos. “No talking back this time. See? You can behave.”

The only reason you’re not saying anything is because you’re scared that you’ll moan. There’s no way in hell you’d let them know that you’re feeling even the smallest amount of pleasure. No matter how wet your underwear grows, no matter how hard you bite your lower lip, your pride is too strong to succumb to their touch. 

But you want to, so bad you do. Maybe they can already tell that you’re becoming more and more pliant for them since Jake only has to use one hand to bind your wrists. Both of the men have their fingers at your pussy: swirling, pinching, and rubbing your cunt until you instinctively grind back on them.

Jake does the honors of hooking a finger to the side of your underwear, finally revealing the source of arousal. You squeal, wiggling to cover yourself but to no avail. It’s near impossible to hide your soaked pussy, lips fat and wet from how disgustingly good they were making you feel.

“Damn,” Heesung breathes. “Must’ve been hard to pretend to hate it, huh?”

You snarl at him, teeth clenched and eyes ignited. “I hate you.”

Heesung smiles, “Seems like your pussy here doesn’t.” He pushes the tip of his finger on your nub, flicking it back and forth. Heesung laughs when your breath gets caught in your throat and all you can do is let out a high-pitched moan from his touch. “Fuck, it’s so wet.”

Jake focuses his digits near your entrance, dipping just the tips of his fingers in to watch your hole clench in anticipation. “More than wet, it’s sobbing to be filled.” He groans when your cunt tries to swallow his fingers. “I don’t even think you need to finger her. You can just put it straight in.”

Wait. That’s not what you want to happen. Your fight or flight should kick in, you should try to scream or kick, but you don’t. Getting away is the last thing your body wants to do. All its attention is on finishing as fast and as pleasurable as possible. So what if they’re older than you? Have authority over you? They can make you feel good, even if it’s at the cost of your dignity. 

It’s as if Heesung can hear your inner turmoil, and of course, he has to add fuel to the fire. “You heard that, slut? Sounds like you really do like me. Go ahead and tell me how much you want it and I’ll fuck you real nice.” 

Jake, despite being the one to say that fingering you would hardly make a difference, begins to push his digits deeper inside. Two of them slowly, but agonizingly open you up. As much as you hate that they're the ones doing it, your cunt is grateful for having something to finally clench down on. Still, your will is stronger than your desire. “F-fuck no.”

But deep down you know and they know. It’s how your curses turn into mewls. How you’ve begun to rock your hips back and forth to match the pace of Jake’s thrusting fingers. The men can see the pretty, white cream coating his digits. The sight makes Heesung groan, “Can’t you behave? Just look at it. You’re begging for this, slut.” Without being told to, Jake slips his finger from your hole. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, mouth agape as you silently whine. You’re too busy mourning the lack of fingers before you feel them prod your lips. 

Jake reaches around and easily slips his fingers in your mouth. It’s an immediate reaction when your tongue swirls around them, tasting your arousal and gulping it down. 

“Fuck. I hope you suck cock like that.” Jake grunts when he presses the pad of his fingers on your tongue. You bite on them, but it comes off more playful than painful. The taste of yourself is overwhelming and you can’t even notice how they’ve begun to position themselves with one in front of your face with the other staying behind.

A different, slightly smaller pair of hands pin you this time. You finally recognize Jake as being the one in front of you while Heesung rubs against the curve of your ass. He’s bare, you figure, from the waist down with his cock guiding up and down. You whimper and you’re comforted by Jake pushing the hair from your face to reveal your pretty, stained lips.

“You have sucked someone off before, right?” Jake tilts his head and lets his thumb run across your bottom lip. You don’t answer, both too stunned by the inevitable outcome and how Heesung has angled his cock slightly lower so it catches your clit instead. It’s the man behind that answers for you, “Course she has. You seen the mouth on this slut? All that talking she does is just ‘cuz there’s nothing to shut her up.”

When you feel a flush in your face, you know it’s from anger. “Oh, fuck you. The only way you’re able to get laid is by - hngh!” Heesung isn’t slow when he puts it in. His rough entrance cuts you off mid-sentence. You only feel his tip widening you for a second before the rest of his length slides into you. 

Now you understand why Jake stretched you open despite everything. He must know how Heesung is, he must know because of how often they do this. It all begins to fall into place now that you’re bent over, skirt flipped up with a cock in your cunt and one soon to be in your mouth. Your behavior did not warrant a meeting with the dean, let alone one-on-one. This must have been their plan. To abuse their power on a whore of a student like you so that if word ever did get out, it would be easier to write it up as a girl who simply didn’t like her professor. 

Not the most perfect plan, but you hardly care to focus on the cracks when you're being jolted forward and rocked against the desk. Jake takes the opportunity to shove himself inside your moaning mouth. Your tongue goes on the underside of his cock, throat expanding so he can fuck himself deeper while Heesung does the same inside your cunt. 

It’s so that it can be bearable, you tell yourself. Not because you like the feeling of them filing you. 

“Shit, see?” Heesung moans and squeezes your wrists. “She just needs something to shut. her. up.” Each word is enunciated with a thrust. Heesung makes sure the sound of your bodies echo in the office. You squeal around gag around Jake's cock, neck straining from keeping your head lifted. 

Jake grips the hair from the top of your head to start fucking you at a rhythm. His hips rock upwards so his tip touches the back part of the roof of your mouth. “Her throats’ squeezing me like a pussy. Fuck! You caught a good one, Hee.”

Heesung laughs, but it sounds dark. Drool seeps from the corner of your lips from the stimulation. The edge of the table only slightly rubs on your clit when Heesung rocks into you. Just barely touching your nub to make you clench and gush around his cock. You try to get on your tippy toes so you can feel him deeper inside, but Heesung is set on having you nearly flushed against the desk save for Jake’s grip forcing your chest upwards.

“I’d hardly say she’s good,” Heesung argues. “She was giving us such a hard time. Making us play with her pussy just to make sure she was wet enough. Isn’t that right, slut?” 

You muffle against Jake’s dick. Neither of them make a move to properly understand what you said, both caught in the pleasure you’re giving them. Still, Heesung continues. “Ah, now I get it. You were just playing hard to get. Calling me names and acting like you’re above this when all you wanted was to be bent like this.” He’s pumping into you harder, messier. You don't even have the coordination to suck properly on Jake’s cock anymore. Not that he minds, it seems. He uses your mouth like a fleshlight, careful not to hit so deep that your gag reflex forces him out. 

You can wiggle your hands though. A final act of retaliation to let Heesung know that he’s wrong. He sees it, to your surprise, and he laughs at your futile ministrations. “I kind of like it when you keep fighting back. It’ll make everything so much more fun when you cum on the dick you hate.”

You don't want to cum, you don’t even want to think about it. Yet, the taste of your orgasm travels in your stomach. You swear you can feel the head of Heesung’s cock touching it, the tip of Jake’s prodding it from your throat. All you need is that final push, a last magical touch to make you tip over. Strangely, you wish for the feeling of being on the edge to never stop. So this moment of twisted humiliation and pleasure lasts for a lifetime. 

That doesn’t happen though. Not when Heesung untangles one of his hands to play with the flesh of your pussy. His nimble fingers blindly travel up until they find your clit. It only takes a couple of rubs, a few harsh pinches that make you whine on Jake's dick before you flood his cock. The consistent moans vibrate the cock in your mouth and Jake doesn’t last any longer when he feels them. 

“Oh fuck. I’m cumming. I'm cumming. I’m cumming.” Both of his hands grab ahold of your face as he buries his cock deep. You sputter and gag around him, being force-fed his load that shoots down your throat. It doesn’t help that Heesung keeps fucking into you to reach his high. It makes Jake’s cock bury itself deeper inch by inch. Your eyes water, saliva and cum drip down your chin onto the desk, but Jake is content with milking himself dry in your mouth and then some. 

Finally, Heesung groans. He adjusts his stance so he can fuck harder into you. His fingers rub painfully fast on your clit and you're crying for him to slow down. The overstimulation nearly makes you want to claw your own skin before he finishes. Hot streaks of cum enter your pussy, the entrance of your womb. You pulse around him, and he pulses inside of you. 

Your hips wiggle to get his fingers off your clit, and they listen to adjust on your ass instead. Jake slowly slips his softening cock from your lips, moaning when your head thuds on the table and you gasp for air. He shoves his cock back into his slacks, wiping the sweat from his forehead when he’s done.

Then Heesung slips out of you, pulling one of your cheeks apart to watch his and your cream leak from your gaping pussy. Your hole pushes out the cum and he shoves it back in with his finger. “Mmm,” he hums. “It looks so good like this.”

When Heesung releases you from his grip you don’t dash for the door. You don’t turn around and slap him; the thought doesn't even cross your mind. Your legs turn into jelly, falling on the floor disgracefully. You can’t even imagine how you look, cum dripping down your thighs and chin as you catch your breath. Still, Heesung smiles down at you, though you know it’s far from endearing.

“See, slut? It’s not that hard to listen, now is it.”