somefics-dotcom - Tumblr blog

somefics-dotcom · 1 year

Text

I DO NOT SUPPORT JK ROWLING, HER TERF VIEWS, HER NEW GAME, OR HER BOOKS.

i am choosing to not delete this fic bc i personally like it and it does not directly give her any money.

if you read this and want to read her books or play her game, then fucking pirate it. go on reddit and search for reliable sites for it. but if you choose to, instead, give her money, then you are not — i repeat —, you are NOT welcome here.

sincerely,

the nonbinary writer.

Snape’s (kinda) One-Shot 18+

Snape x OC, that’s the main thing. It’s not exactly a one-shot because I have to me that Snape acts a certain way when it comes to sex, but I want to explore this side first, and then come back to his “main way” later. I think writing it in this order will make things more interesting. Please mind you that this fic is very 18+ targeted.

NSFW / 18+ / Heavy smut under the cut!

“Did you call, Sev?” She asked, entering his dungeon as she always did. She had her books piled up on one arm, her hair flowing behind her along with her long black cape. Her green and silver Slytherin tie was loose around her neck, adding to the carefree feel she always exhaled. “I was heading to the library to study for, guess what, Potions, so I thought, what better opportunity then to study in my boyfriend’s room?”

He kept silent all that time, sitting on his black couch, staring directly at her by the doorframe.

“So, tell me, what was it that you wanted to speak to me?” She began to put down her heavy books on the long wooden table he had as the main study area of his dungeon.

“Close the door.” It was the only thing he responded, voice empty of any kind of emotion. It almost felt like it came from somewhere inside the walls, not him, so de-attached from the situation it was. She knew that tone very well, but not when it came to them being alone — she knew it from when they were during classes, when he had to refer to her the same way he referred to others, and he did it very well. Nobody would oppose to their relationship, since Severus Snape was the most professional professor in all Hogwarts.

She smiled at what he said. “Okay...” She said, heading back to the door and closing it with its key. “So you have other plans for this afternoon’s meeting—”

“It’s none of what you’re thinking.” He stated, once more with a cold tone. “Stop right there.”

She raised her eyebrow. Yes, he could read minds, he knew what she was thinking about. She was heading to him when the second order came, and she was caught by surprise this time.

“It’s not a school’s matter either,” he answered, without her voicing the question.

“Then what...”

“Come here.” He moved his hand in an inviting way, though with a not very gentle undertone. She did, still confusion written over her face. It was usually her who would start any romantic or teasing interaction, this scenario was a rather odd one. “Kneel.”

“Sev, what are we...”

“It’s Professor Snape for you, Slytherin student.” She was still processing what he was saying. She stood in front of him. “I said, kneel.” She hesitated, but ended up doing as she was told, kneeling in front of him, her eyes leveled to his knees. He leaned forward, one slim white finger touched her chin, lifting her face up. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said in what seemed like a whisper, once again answering to what she was thinking, “let’s just try something new.” He backed away again, took off his finger from her chin and assumed again that authoritarian pose he was in. “Undo your clothes.” The monotone was also back.

She began to undress, first by her cape, then her tie, and finally her shirt’s buttons. “Slower,” he ordered. She let out a smirk, and slowed down her pace, making it seem almost as if it was difficult for her to undo those buttons, one at a single time. “That’s better.”

Once she had gotten taken care of the last one, she lightly opened the front of the white cloth, showing a bit of the bra she was wearing underneath. Snape then leaned forward, taking one hand to touch her torso, going up to her neck, where there it stood for a while, almost like studying how it fit around his fingers. He could feel her breathing getting heavier by the moment, and proceeded to slide his hand to her shoulder, underneath the shirt, and then to her arm, making the piece of clothing to fall to her side. Every part of warm skin he touched, it felt to her as if he was leaving behind a trail of fire that needed to be extinguished, urgently.

“Not yet.” He said, to what she snapped her eyes open again, without realizing she had closed them. “Take it off and sit here.”

She got completely rid of her shirt and proceeded to sit on his lap, and, to her surprise, at that exact moment she felt something tying her hand behind her back. She glanced back, and the green and silver colors of the Slytherin tie she was wearing just a moment ago shined to her. She also noticed he wasn’t using his wand at any moment, giving himself the trouble to actually tie her up. “You’re fast, Sev.”

“I told you,” he began, tidying the knot more tightly and then starring at her eyes, “it’s Professor Snape.” He left no room for arguing. She nodded. “Say it.”

“Professor Snape.”

“That’s better.”

Snape then touched her waist with his both hands, caressing it, and approached her neck with his lips, almost not touching it, but leaving soft kisses along it. She left out a moan, and moved on his lap. “Professor...” Was what she was able to make vocal.

To what Snape immediately moved away. She protested, sinking her head to his shoulder, a groan leaving her throat. “What you think you’re doing, Professor?”

“Treating you how you deserve to be treated.” His hands were already on her skirt, pulling it down, forcing her to lay to her side in other for him to take it out. Once it was on the floor, he moved her back in place, and went to squeeze and firmly grasp both her thighs and butt. She arched her back, took a deep breath, and moaned in his ear. That was when she felt him move beneath his trousers. She laughed to herself.

“Now we’re talking, Professor.” He got up, holding her up as he did, and went for the wooden table where she had left her Potions books. The table was long enough to accommodate both the books and them, so they payed no attention to that somewhat high pile of books that laid there. Snape proceeded to lay her back in the wood surface, and quickly undid the knot behind her back. “Makes me wonder...” She said, “when are you taking off that robe of yours, Professor?”

“In due time.” She reached for his hand, and grabbed it. Snape rested the other by her side, and watched as she took his middle and ring fingers to her mouth, and started sucking them, slowly, eyes closed, using a lot of saliva in order to do it. Snape flinched to that vision, to what she opened her eyes seductively, and conducted his hand to her lower parts.

She sat up saying “I should be wet enough, but just to make sure, Professor...” in a low tone, and rested back in the table. Snape made his way through her underwear and began to touch. The moment his fingertips reached her inner side, she gasped for air, and threw her head back. He kept on with circular movements, adjusting the pressure based on the sounds she made, and how her hips were moving along. “God... Professor, oh my god...” She bit her finger to contain a louder moan, and Snape took out his hand. Her eyes jolted open, “what...”

“Not yet.” Snape laid his torso on top of hers, kissing her neck, this time with a burning wish. His kisses were wet, sloppy and harsh, sucking and biting, leaving bruises where they had been. Meanwhile, he was undoing her bra, and when he threw it out of his way, he went on to kissing and sucking her breasts, while massaging the other with his hand. She was letting out loud cries of pleasure, and this time she knew for sure she was going to reach her climax, but then he backed away once more.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sev?!” She demanded, starving for him, eyes with a dark glow in them.

Snape squeezed her cheeks with one hand, bringing her face closer to his. “You’re only making things worse for yourself.” He had some sort of disdain to his tone, externalized by a little twitch on his upper lip. “Behave and you will not regret it.”

He let go of her face, turning his attention to his black clothes, which he put himself to dispose of. She was able then to take better glances of his pale, almost porcelain-like skin that he insisted on hiding beneath several layers of black cloth. The contrast between the two was almost mesmerizing, which made her take another bold move and hold both his hands in place, as he made mention of removing his clothes. “Please.” She looked up at him. “Please, Professor. I’d like you to stay like this.”

He took a moment to think about what she had asked, and finally nodded, agreeing to what she had requested. His eyes went from her face to her hands, firmly taking hold of his wrists. She let go of them and obediently laid back again. “Good,” he said. Snape finished undoing his clothes and she was almost dying to be able to touch his skin, to feel him, to taste him. “You’re too needy today, young lady.” She blushed to that, being reminded that he was aware of all the dirty thoughts she was having of him at that moment. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’ll have to control your needs.”

Snape lifted both her legs, kissing her feet, and then her calves, tearing them apart. The anticipation got the best of her, and she groaned as she could feel his lips on her thigh. “God... My god, Severus... Please...”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to call me.” He then passed on to the other thigh, almost oblivious to what he had in front of him. She sobbed, her wrists closing in a mixture of anger and incapacity.

“Professor Snape, please. I need more than that...” Speaking was hard, breathing was a heavy duty at that moment. His fingers were on her panties, ready to take them off for good.

He smirked to himself. “That should do.” Snape then knelt down, pulling her last piece of clothing along with him, and at that moment, she could not contain her need anymore. She spread her legs and she went directly to running her fingers through his black hair, caressing it, pulling him close, wanting to be kissed by him at any cost. He then put himself to the duty, her legs on his shoulders, his hands laid flat on her lower stomach, and his kiss as wet and slow as he could make it.

The sensations flowing through her body were enough to make her head begin to feel light and dizzy, her thoughts now completely out of that place, her attention solely on what Snape was making her feel. And that was the most pure and sheer pleasure. He was beginning to gain speed, and by instinct her hips made mention to back away, but his hands were firmly placed, not leaving any place for unnecessary movement. The flow of pleasure was getting higher, her breathing even more superficial. “Professor... I’m... I’m close... I...” He then moved one of his hands to accompany him, and applied pressure to her inside while kissing her upper part. “I’ll...”

But there was no way to finish that sentence. A wave of electricity ran through her, and she had to both hold on to the border of the table and bite a finger to not scream from the orgasm she had achieved. Snape backed away and stood, mouth open, heavy breathing, eyes with a hunger she had never witnessed in him before. That was only foreplay, her first climax of the evening, she was in for another.

Snape pulled her legs to clash against him and leaned in for a fast paced kiss, almost hard to follow. He was tasting her, and also making her taste him back, in a most primal way. That was when he felt her touch, and he flinched at it. She caught him completely off guard, and he broke the kiss for a moment, trying to regain some air. Her strokes were slow and steady, while with her other hand she caressed his hair on the same pace. He was the one having trouble to breathe now, not capable to say or do anything in return. “It feels good, Professor?” She teased.

“It bloody does.” He regained control of himself and held her hand firmly, stopping her from what she was doing. She was surprised both at what he did but most importantly at what he said. She could never imagine Severus Snape even near to swearing, and there he was, swearing all right. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “We’re doing this now.” He announced, and almost instantly he adjusted his waist to hers and pulled her to him once again, but this time entering her. She flinched, eyes wide open, locked on his. He pushed deep once, twice, and kept on while staring directly in her eyes. That would never happen — Snape was far too shy to do any of that, let alone be so aggressive and self assured in order to stare directly at her while at it. His gaze was almost daring, and she felt her cheeks growing even redder at that sight. “You look so bloody beautiful when you’re blushing.”

She moaned loud at that, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, unable to keep up with that much tease. She didn’t know where all of that came from, but she would not complain, because god, it felt good. Incredibly good. As good as it never felt before.

He kept thrusting, fastening the pace, and the moans began rolling out of his mouth too at that point. She was near the edge again, and she wouldn’t last much more at that rate. “Professor, I’m... Close... My god, I’m gonna...”

Snape then pulled her body close to his, making her sit on the edge of the table. “Beg.” He whispered inside her ear, his breathing hot and superficial. “Beg to me.”

“Professor...” Her eyes began watering.

“Beg.”

“Professor Snape, please... Please!” She said louder, with more confidence.

He thrust deep one last time and the second orgasm came, more intense and breathtaking than the last. Her whole body began twitching, and as she clenched around him, Snape also came with a loud moan rolling out of his tongue. He slammed the table with his hand, letting out an also loud “fuck!”, totally breathless, holding her close, breathing in her scent.

They stood like that for some moments, breathing heavily, trying to regain their consciousness after that intense action shared. Snape was the first to make mention to move, straightening his back, and placing her on the table. He was with his head low, his long hair falling in his face, drops of sweat rolling down his temples. He eventually let out a smile to himself.

“Sev...” She began. “That was amazing, Sev.”

“Thank you.” He sounded proud of himself.

“You let out some ‘bloody’ and some ‘fuck’, you know that?”

“I just said what came to me at the moment.”

“But how did you... Why did you...”

“I know you wanted to try something more... brutal. So I wanted to give it a try as well.” He looked up, pushing back his hair.

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Sev.”

“Just don’t expect it to happen very often. It makes me feel exhausted and it’s still the middle of the afternoon.”

She giggled at him. “So you’re not helping me at my Potions study?”

“No. You may use my room all you want, but I shall take a nap, I have classes later today, as you may well know.”

“What do I tell anyone that comes looking for you?”

“Tell them I went...” He stopped for a moment, considering what would be a good lie. “Tell them I went to a rather challenging meeting outside of Hogwarts.”

#fuck jk rowling #fuck her supporters #you are not welcome here nor near me

6 notes · View notes

somefics-dotcom · 3 years

Text

Jotaro x Kakyoin 18+

This time around I decided on writing a JotaKak fic after the happy announcement that Stone Ocean is coming this December! I got back to seeing a lot of JotaKak fanart, and I never got to see or read their first time together, so I thought, why not? Well, here it is.

NSFW / 18+ / Smut under the cut!

The travel to Egypt was a rather tiring one, nobody could argue about it. Sure, fighting evil was apparently the duty of every Joestar generation, but this time around, peril seemed much more menacing: it was not an everyday matter carrying the weight of defeating a vampire on your shoulders. And that very weight was the one Jotaro was doomed to carry.

He was now sitting to a table along with his grandfather and journey-found friends. They were having a night of rest, drinking on a bar in the streets of Cairo, and Jotaro was smoking his cigarette in silence, as usual. Joseph and Avdul were laughing out loud about some matter they shared before this trip, Polnareff was trying to hit on some attractive girl he spotted on the nearby table, and Kakyoin was finishing another beer, cheeks already as red as his hair. Jotaro took a deep drag while examined his companion, thinking back of when they first met, in a very unpleasant situation. To think that he would later turn out to be his closest among the ones he would travel with made him snort out a bit of smoke through his nose, and he looked up at the night sky, trying not to focus on their shared proximity too much.

Truth was that Jotaro wanted more than just the proximity of being travel buddies with Kakyoin. He wanted to get to know him better, not only on the battlefield, not only how his Stand worked together with his own; but rather why that happened in such good tuning, why when he looked at Kakyoin he saw more than just an ordinary boy with an interesting hair color, why he always felt the will to put his arm around his body whenever they were standing side by side, why he had such trouble in getting the thought of him out of his mind during his sleepless nights, and most importantly, why his scent always made his head feel light.

While thinking it all to himself, Jotaro noticed everybody was beginning to stand up, and so he followed. It was already late, and they had yet to check in to the hotel they would stay the night. His grandfather payed the bill and Avdul lead the group through the streets, stopping by a rather luxurious place, where they all entered and went directly to the reception desk to ask for their respective rooms.

“Um... I’m sorry Mr. Joestar, but we only have 3 rooms available at the moment...” Jotaro heard as the secretary stuttered.

“Gimme a break...” Jotaro pulled down his hat. He was not very enthusiastic about sharing a room with his grandfather.

“I can share one with Jotaro.”

Jotaro looked up at who had said those words. Kakyoin was smiling at him, probably feeling very confident about himself thanks to the extra drinks he had had.

“I’d rather have my own room,” said Polnareff.

“It’s settled then!” Joseph said enthusiastically, as of in setting things up. “One room for Jotaro and Kakyoin, one for Polnareff, and one for Avdul and me!”

Jotaro stood quiet, not protesting to what was suggested and later agreed to. He took his backpack and went up the stairs to what was designated as his shared room and entered, sitting down on his bed, undoing the strap of his wrist watch. Kakyoin entered right after, and to his surprise, did not stop by his bed, but rather sat next to Jotaro.

“Um...” Kakyoin said, after some moments of silence, in which Jotaro continued to take off his hat and coat in silence. “So, JoJo...”

“Is something the matter, Kakyoin?” Jotaro asked, not looking at him, but feeling his orange eyes on his face.

“I wanted to talk, that’s all.”

“Are you feeling nervous about meeting with Dio?” Jotaro was trying his best to act normally.

“No, it’s not it.”

Suddenly, he felt Kakyoin’s hand on his thigh. Jotaro froze in place, all his muscles tensing up. What he thought he was doing?

“I wanted to talk about something that is really important, you see.”

“Kakyoin, I don’t think this is the best moment for it.” Jotaro stood up. The sensation of Kakyoin’s hand not touching him was a relief.

“But, JoJo...” Kakyoin stood too, taking his wrist. “I think about it often, there’s nothing wrong about it.”

“Look, you’re drunk.” Jotaro let go of Kakyoin’s hand and grabbed him by his shoulders, looking at him at last. “This is a matter to speak of when you’re not under the influence of alcohol, okay?”

“But we don’t know if we’ll have time for it later, JoJo!” His voice sounded like a plea, his eyes bearing a fear and distress Jotaro has never seen before. “I need to do something about it while I still have time. And I need to know if you feel the same way.”

Jotaro swallowed at hearing that. He did not want to say it if he was still unsure about how he really felt. He was confused, trying to sort things out, and speaking about it was not his way at all.

“Please... It’s important to me.” Kakyoin insisted. “Do you feel the same way?”

Jotaro let out a sigh. His heart was beating fast, he could feel it at his neck, and his hands would begin to tremble in no time. He instinctively let go of Kakyoin’s shoulders and looked down.

“It’s okay.” Kakyoin said. “I understand. I felt the same about some other guys before, and they did not respond to it very well. At least this time for a change I’m not made fun of,” and he giggled to himself, but in a rather depressed way.

“I do, Kakyoin.” Jotaro found his courage at last. “I do feel the same way. Hell, I feel it since the day I laid eyes on you and your stupid red hair.”

Jotaro felt his cheeks burning red, his heart at a pace he never knew could beat, and his hands trembling. He began fidgeting, not ready to look up yet.

He heard a relieved sigh. “JoJo,” Kakyoin took one of his hands, “I can still see your face, you know that?”

Jotaro looked to his right, frowning, while Kakyoin laughed to himself. He had completely forgotten how tall he was, and how that allowed anyone to see his face if not covered by his faithful hat.

“Come on, don’t be so shy. I doubt it you’ve never had a girlfriend before. It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Jotaro said back. “It feels different.”

Kakyoin’s hand went to rest on the center of Jotaro’s chest, where he could feel that fast heart underneath, almost ready to jump off.

“In a good way?” Kakyoin asked, getting even closer to Jotaro’s body.

Jotaro looked back at Kakyoin, staring deep into those eyes. He would not be able to say that with words.

He leaned and locked his lips with the lips of the smaller guy. His hand went to the back of Kakyoin’s head, caressing his soft red hair, while he savored the taste of those beautiful lips. Kakyoin was the one to open his mouth and welcome gratefully Jotaro’s tongue, that took his time to get to know that mouth, slowly, with the most care. Kakyoin’s hand was still on his chest, and Jotaro laid his free hand atop of it.

“JoJo...” Kakyoin broke the kiss, gasping for air, his face as red as never was before. “I want you, JoJo...”

“No.” Jotaro answered, kissing his cheek. “Not like this.”

“But...”

“Kakyoin, no.” Jotaro sounded firm, and backed away, in order to look at Kakyoin again. “Not like this. You’re drunk, I’m...” He did not find the right word. “We have time. We better go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” Kakyoin laughed.

“Better not make me leave the room.”

“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in defeat. “Have a good night’s sleep then.”

“You too.” Jotaro answered.

⋆

The next days went the same as ever: going around, looking for Lord DIO’s clues, fighting his minions, avoiding death. Each day and each night Jotaro kept thinking about that kiss. Actually, more than that kiss, all of that honest talk, the shared feelings, and of course the touch of Kakyoin on his chest. That meant more to him than he would like to admit, but each day that passed he could swear Kakyoin’s hand had left a mark on his chest, almost like a burn that would not heal. He often found himself with his hands were it was, almost as if looking for it again.

Drunk Kakyoin and sober Kakyoin were two different people, for a matter of fact: now that the alcohol was not in his system anymore, he would act much more quietly, not as bold as before, almost shy, and he would not talk about what happened nor mention any of that, not even while there were only the two of them in the room. Jotaro thought to himself that it could be the case because of the fact that Kakyoin was a reserved kind of guy, but also to respect Jotaro, since he knew coming back to that matter would not be easy.

But Jotaro could not possibly stay that way anymore. He needed to come to terms with the fact that yes, he was in love with Kakyoin. He would need to learn what it meant as it went along, and there was no way of averting it any longer.

Kakyoin was sitting in his bed, already in his pajamas, a book in his hands, head leaning down in concentration. Jotaro approached his bed with ease, and sat down, his arm brushing against Kakyoin’s back.

Kakyoin made no mention to notice nor bother, since he seemed to keep on with his reading, almost as if unaware of Jotaro’s arrival. Jotaro then climbed on the bed, and proceed to hug Kakyoin from behind, burying his face on his shoulder.

“JoJo?” Kakyoin spoke, closing the book.

He felt Kakyoin’s scent again and that was the moment. He would need to say it or let go and go for a drag in order to not pass out.

“I want you, Tenmei.”

Kakyoin’s hair stood up. He remembered the time they went to fight Enya and he had signed his name Tenmei instead of Noriaki, which made Jotaro curious why. It was how only his parents would call him, for when he went to school, his name was mistakenly read as “Noriaki”, and he was too shy to say against it.

Now hearing Jotaro say it was a like hearing it for the very first time in his life. And Jotaro noticed, for it was like Kakyoin’s whole body had melted in his embrace. Jotaro pulled back the collar of his pajama and began kissing the back of his neck, pulling him closer to his large body, moving his large hand to lay on Kakyoin’s throat as he thew his head back.

Kakyoin’s skin felt so good to kiss, his intoxicating scent invading his nostrils, sweet and addicting, made exactly for him. His hands went to wander beneath Kakyoin’s shirt, pressing hard against his chest, massaging it, picking at his nipples. Kakyoin’s hand had reached his hair, and he was tangled between caressing it with ease or hard, so difficult it was to consciously decide on what he was exactly feeling at that moment. Jotaro let go of the hug and whispered in his ear to turn around, to what Kakyoin instantly responded, and Jotaro put himself to undo his partner’s pajama’s shirt. “You’re so beautiful, Tenmei. So beautiful,” Jotaro said as he stared at Kakyoin’s chest, a hand firmly laid against it, the same way Kakyoin had done in that night. He noted how red his lover’s face was, and how shallow his breathing felt; it was only then that he noticed how responsive to touch Kakyoin’s body was, as he shifted his hand on his chest and Kakyoin was having a hard time on standing still in the bed. Jotaro quickly pulled him to a kiss, a rather wet kiss, his tongue knot in his, his hand pinching his nipple, and the other hand carefully descending down his spine, stopping at each vertebra to there his fingers play. He kept his eyes open, watching as Kakyoin melted under his touch, and that made his crouch begin to ache.

He broke the kiss, Kakyoin feeling dizzy by it, and proceeded to kiss his chest, going down, stopping at his lower stomach and grabbing the sides of Kakyoin’s pants. “You’re doing well, Tenmei. Let’s continue on with it,” he said against his skin, and he pulled down his pants, bringing his undies along, giving room for Kakyoin’s boner.

Jotaro then proceeded to go down with his kisses, stopping beside Kakyoin’s cock, grabbing it with his hand, and licking his inner thigh. Soon his hand was pumping Kakyoin’s dick, moving up and down at a steady pace, while licking and sucking his balls. “Ah, JoJo... JoJo, please... Ah...” It was hard to say a word, such was the pleasure Jotaro’s tongue and big hand were capable of providing. But Kakyoin held still Jotaro’s hand, to what Jotaro made a full stop. “I want more than this, JoJo,” was what Kakyoin said.

Jotaro pulled Kakyoin’s face to a tongue kiss as he laid back, leaving his lover to undo his pants and caress his thighs. Kakyoin then went down and ran his tongue from the bottom to the top of Jotaro’s hard cock. “Good boy,” Jotaro said, caressing his head, before Kakyoin took it into his mouth and proceeded to suck him, going in a fast pace, taking first the head and then some more of it as he went on. Jotaro, that was running his hands through Kakyoin’s back, went to rest them on his butt, grabbing it firmly as Kakyoin’s head went back and forth. The way Kakyoin’s tongue wrapped around Jotaro’s cock was more than enough to bring him to cum, but he was resilient in enjoying the most of his night, so he turned to his nightstand and pulled from it a tube of lube. He poured a good amount of it in his fingers and with one hand spread Kakyoin’s butt, while proceeded to do circular movements with his fingers around his ass, before penetrating it and pressing against his walls. “Your pretty mouth is the perfect home for my cock,” he praised. “Do my fingers feel at least half as good?”

Kakyoin’s rhythm grew less steady with the extra stimulation, and knew he had to do something about it before cumming too early, to what he went on and took Jotaro’s cock as a whole into his mouth, bumping his nose against Jotaro’s crouch, and feeling it hit against the back of his throat. Jotaro immediately pulled out his fingers and moaned loud, his hand frantically grabbing Kakyoin’s red hair, bringing him even closer. The feeling of having his cock shoved into his lover’s mouth and the gagging movements his throat was making in reflex to it made his head feel light. It was when Kakyoin coughed that he released his grasp and let Kakyoin back away, coughing and dripping saliva from his chin. “That’s not fair, I didn’t know you were taught in deep throating.” Jotaro laughed to himself, something very rare to be witnessed.

“I’m not.” Kakyoin responded. “You can say I’m a natural.” To what was his turn on laughing.

Jotaro once more pulled him up for a kiss, tasting his own taste on Kakyoin’s tongue. “I wanna do you, Tenmei.” He whispered against his mouth.

Kakyoin backed away, and turned around, lifting his ass. “Do me, JoJo.”

Jotaro took the lube again and poured it on his cock, now completely hard and ready for it. He aligned his waist and held Kakyoin’s sides, before thrusting in and making his lover groan and gasp at it. He thrust again, and again, gaining speed, going deeper as he did, and Kakyoin buried his face against the bed, trying to desperately quiet down his moans. “I wanna hear you moaning... It sounds so good to my ears.” Jotaro pulled out, and turned Kakyoin around, before laying down. “I want you to top me,” he asked, as he took one of Kakyoin’s hand as if conducting him to sit on top of him. Kakyoin hesitated for a moment, but swallowed down his pride and slowly sat down on top of Jotaro’s dick, closing his eyes as he did, his hands grabbing Jotaro’s chest. “Moan my name, Tenmei. Your voice sounds so beautiful when it does.”

Jotaro grabbed firmly Kakyoin’s butt, and helped his lover in going up and down, as he moaned “Jotaro, Jotaro...” at every second. “Ah... Jotaro... Your cock is so good, you fuck me so well...” Kakyoin was now beginning to gain velocity, and he threw back his head, as he bounced up and down. “I’m so close, Jotaro... I wanna cum so hard...”

Jotaro’s hand then went to pump Kakyoin’s dick once again, to what a even louder moan came rolling out of his mouth. “Cum, cum now. You’ve done it well, Tenmei.”

At hearing his name, Kakyoin was not able to hold back anymore and came, shuddering, moaning “Jotaro!”, and letting out a big load on Jotaro’s hand and chest, his dick twitching at every spurt, his nails deep into Jotaro’s flesh.

He had a very shallow breathing at the end of it, trying to get back to what had been the most intense orgasm he had ever felt, when he noticed Jotaro was on his way to pull out. “What you doing?” He asked, heavy breathing, looking at Jotaro’s face.

“I need to load off as well,” he answered, kind of lost.

“Then keep going.”

Jotaro sat up and hugged Kakyoin’s body in order to lay him back and now top him. He kept thrusting in, now in a more sloppy rhythm. “You can be harsh, I’m not gonna break.” And Jotaro then lowered his body atop of Kakyoin’s, his hips in a very fast, not at all gentle pace, dragging out moans from Kakyoin once more, before one final deep thrust and the glorious climax. He groaned, hugged Kakyoin’s body harder, and spurt his semen inside.

Kakyoin felt the hot juice fill him, and bit Jotaro’s shoulder, refraining himself from another rather noisy moan. He felt as Jotaro pulled his dripping cock out, and hugged back, not wanting to let him go.

“Did I hurt you?” Jotaro asked, pulling Kakyoin with him to sit on his lap. “Was I too harsh?”

“No, JoJo. I told you, I’m not gonna break.” He was playing with Jotaro’s wet hair. “You held back, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jotaro blushed.

“For a first time, it was very good.” Kakyoin smiled broadly.

“You did very well, Tenmei.” Jotaro kissed him.

“Now you have to stop calling me that, otherwise it’s gonna be hard for me not to get a boner around here.”

“Then it’s good old Kakyoin that I’ll be calling you.”

“Not while we’re alone, though.”

“No, not while we’re alone.”

#txt #nsfw #18+#jotakak #jotaro kujo #kakyoin #jotaro x kakyoin #jjba

1 note · View note

somefics-dotcom · 3 years

Text

Risotto x Prosciutto

I had the idea of writing this smut while seeing some very good fanart out there, though not related to these two mafiosi. It’s just that I find this couple very compelling to both watch, read, see, and appreciate in general. Anyways, hope it’s as entertaining to read as it was to imagine!

NSFW / 18+ / Heavy smut under the cut!

He was not available to anyone. No matter what. Prosciutto made sure to tell his brother Pesci to tell this to any person, whomever it could possibly be (even his Boss), who would come ask for him. It was late and dark outside, almost too dark it would turn lighter, and after a mission he had acquired the habit of staying alone, having the mission gone terribly wrong or terrifically right. Little Pesci was to say the mission was a success, and that he needed some time to himself — which was not entirely a lie, but he would not want to let the news of his bad wound spread. And the entire truth was that it was aching like hell.

He heard his phone ringing: Nero, his capo. As if he would answer even that call. He immediately turned the damned thing off and reclined against his preferred chair. It was soft and felt almost as if it was offering a hug, so he could relax his back muscles at long last. His torso felt as if it was aflame, the left side of his ribcage tingling thanks to the bullet’s path inside his body. It had not come out, but that was not something he wanted to focus on at the moment. He wanted a big glass of whiskey, and after that he would look for help, if he still needed it by that time. Being a mafioso meant being in constant danger, and taking risks that could result in very bad wounds, even lethal ones; but that was the life Prosciutto always knew, and the one that made him feel complete, almost happy, even though he would never admit he felt this way to anybody. Feelings affect your work, he would always remind himself and Pesci.

Gathering courage and strength, he stood up again and went to the cabinet to grab the whiskey bottle and a cup, where he poured the bitter liquid on. He looked down at his ribs and saw the red spot shining bright against his navy-blue suit. He opened the buttons and took a long sip of the beverage before examining the wound more thoroughly with his fingers, to what his hand bolted back in sheer pain, shattering the glass in the ground. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He curled up, cursing everything and everyone. Drops of sweat began to roll down his temples and he knew he had to sit down again or he would collapse to the ground.

His hearing now consisted of a high-pitched beep, but as he sat down again he was able to distinguish some arguing downstairs. He frowned and tried to identify whose voices they were, but the damned beep was still too loud to let him do so. Then came the footsteps, of two people, he could tell. Not at that hour, not at that time...

The door swung open. “Pesci, haven’t I fucking told you—” He stopped as soon as he was able to recognize a tall figure at his doorstep. Pesci was just behind, trying to apologize to both his brother and the other man. “It’s okay, lil bro. Leave us. But nobody else, got me?” To what Pesci nervously nodded and headed downstairs. “Hello, Risotto.” He greeted his capo in a monotone. The tall man closed the door behind him and approached Prosciutto with a steady pace. “Okay, stop right there, I don’t need your help or anything like that.”

“Stop being childish,” the deep velvety voice of Nero sounded in his ears. He would not be affected by the hurt pride of Prosciutto. He looked down at his subordinate and was able to distinguish the wound clearly in that muscular chest. “The bullet is still inside?”

He took a moment to answer, pondering if he should give in or not. But he knew Risotto was the only one that could help him in La Squadra, since going to a hospital was completely not a choice; but still he wanted to go to Risotto, in a better condition, not the other way around. “Yes.”

“I can take it out.” Risotto put simply.

“I know.” Was Prosciutto’s answer.

Nero took a look around the room and saw the shattered pieces of the glass near the cabinet, with the whiskey bottle on top. “What a mess you made, Prosciutto.”

“The mission went smoothly though.”

“Fuck the mission!” Nero shouted. Prosciutto faltered, not expecting this reaction coming. “I don’t give a fuck if the mission was a success if I fucking lose...” He stopped for a second. “If I fucking lose one of you.”

That was not what Nero was going to say, and Prosciutto noted that. It somehow made him feel even more uncomfortable with the situation, since it was him who screw up, and disappointed his capo. “It won’t happen again, capo.”

Nero looked at Prosciutto disappointed. He did not want to sound as his capo, not at that moment. He frowned at himself and breathed deeply. “Let me take this shit outta you already, Prosciutto.”

Prosciutto laid back and undid his belt, which he took to his mouth and bit tightly. Nero came closer, kneeled and took a table lamp. He examined the wound with care. “This is gonna hurt.” Prosciutto close his eyes and tightened his whole body, waiting for the worst. He began to feel the projectile slowly being pulled out, to what he desperately looked for something to hold, and found a piece of cloth, to which he pulled against his face, holding back a killing impulse of screaming at the top of his lungs. “Stay still, Prosciutto.” He felt a hand grabbing the wrist of his free hand and pining it against the chair. The bullet was almost out when he began to feel dizzy. “Don’t pass out just yet.” And like that it was out.

He was a puddle of sweat, tears, and pain. He slowly opened his eyes, opened his mouth to let the belt fall down, and realized he had pulled Nero’s black coat and buried his face on it. He let go and moved away, also realizing he had curled against Nero’s torso. He felt his pulse go higher and his face turn red. The beans that consisted of Metallica were handing the bullet to their Stand user, and Nero analyzed it for a second, before staring at Prosciutto. “Quite a mess.” Prosciutto did not know what to say or do, he was not too drunk to deal with what he was feeling, and he wished only his ribs were burning, not his lower loin too. He had already been close to Nero more than once in various situations; but this time it was feeling different. He was feeling too vulnerable for his own sake.

“Can you let go of my wrist?” He muttered.

Risotto was caught by surprise, and rapidly removed his firm hand off him. “Sorry, haven’t noticed it was still there.” Prosciutto made mention of standing up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“You need to lie down, shithead.” Risotto’s arm wrapped around Prosciutto’s body, and he was undoubtedly stronger. Still, Risotto was very careful not to put pressure against the wound, and to Prosciutto, Nero’s touch felt almost too intimate. “No way in hell I’m gonna let you get up after this.”

“What the fuck is all this, Nero?” The words came out. “You’re now attentive, caring and sentimental? Just close up this fucking thing and go!”

Nero looked deeply into Prosciutto’s blue eyes. “I don’t think you want me to leave, actually.”

Those black and red eyes were so intense, so... cold. He suddenly became even more aware of how Nero’s touch around his naked skin made him feel. “I want a drink, Risotto.”

“Let me sew that wound first.” Metallica’s beans approached his chest once again, and began to unite his veins and skin together, which did not feel as bad that time.

Then, Nero let go of Prosciutto’s body and he finally got up, going towards the cabinet. He held tight his ribcage, which still hurt like a bitch, but not as much as before. At least he could stand up now. But now another thing was bothering him, lower in his body. He took another glass and poured himself a good dose, which he quickly drank down. He suddenly felt something hard and warm pressing him against the cabinet, to what he let out a puff of air.

“I believe there’s something else you want, Prosciutto.” He felt Nero’s hot breath against his ear. “If it doesn’t make you feel good, I can stop any time.” One hand went to Prosciutto’s pocket and the other to his exposed chest. Prosciutto scattered his hands on the cabinet, his breathing and pulse not stable in any way anymore. Nero’s right hand was wandering free against his chest, caressing his stomach, pinching his nipples, gripping tight his sides; meanwhile his left hand went to what was making Prosciutto’s head feel light, and began to rub his big thumb against it, teasing him. Nero heard a moan come out of Prosciutto’s mouth.

“Risotto...” He tensed as Nero squeezed him still under the fabric of his pants and undies.

“Hm? Yes?”

“Yes, Risotto... Yes...” Prosciutto’s head bolted back, to rest against Risotto’s large chest. “I need more...” He begged.

Nero laid a kiss on Prosciutto’s neck, and quickly opened his pants, giving him some relief. “Like this?” He tongue-kissed Prosciutto’s neck.

Prosciutto turned around, seeking for Risotto’s mouth for a urgent sloppy and wet kiss. Nero helped him up the cabinet, not breaking the kiss, to what Prosciutto began wandering his hands against Nero’s chest — his object of desire of so many nights, both awaken or asleep. He pulled Risotto closer and wrapped his legs around his capo’s, not letting him distance himself from him, needy of that.

Risotto had a cold touch to himself, but oddly enough whenever he touched felt like Prosciutto’s body was burning aflame. This off-set of hot and cold made Prosciutto need for air, and Risotto quickly bent to kiss his subordinate’s chest. He bit and nibbled Prosciutto’s nips, and Prosciutto felt himself become even harder with that. It was at a point which it was painful, something he had never experienced before, not even when he had fantasized with his capo. “Risotto... Risotto, stroke me, please...”

Nero straightened himself up and hugged Prosciutto with his left arm, while proceeded to do as Prosciutto asked of him ever so slowly, taking out loud and painful moans and groans of him. Nero went to mess with his blonde hair with his free hand, and Prosciutto grabbed Nero’s shoulders in a desperate hug. He was feeling too good, almost as if he had not been shot not too long ago, for the pain was so small compared to Risotto’s big hand around him, going up and down in a delicious pace. “My God, Risotto... This feels so fucking good.” His hips intuitively began to move against his capo’s hand, and he felt his dick twitch as Nero went to caress the top of it.

“Is it comfortable now, Prosciutto?” Nero asked, playing with his dick.

“Very. Very, capo. Please don’t stop now, please.”

Nero’s hand began to gain velocity, and Prosciutto’s grasp of Nero also grew tighter, and his groans now were very audible. “Fuck, fuuuuck... Jesus Christ, Risotto...”

“You’re close, Prosciutto.” Nero sucked his throat eagerly, knowing that was going to leave a bruise. Nero’s hand was at a very fast pace. “Come. Come in your capo’s hand.”

With a loud moan, Prosciutto let out a big load, twitching under Risotto’s hand and thrusting his waist against it. He felt his whole body tense and then relax, and he buried his face against Nero’s bare chest. He again was a puddle of sweat, but not because of pain this time, but rather the quite opposite of it.

“That was a mess too, Prosciutto,” Nero said, letting go of his dick and licking his fingers. “But this one at least tastes good.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to.” He responded, proceeding to lick his palm as well. “Do you intent on resting your face on my chest until tomorrow?”

“I think I earned the right to at least do so.”

“It was only a fucking good handjob, Prosciutto. Nothing more than that.”

Prosciutto snorted. “Bullshit. Like hell it was. You wrapped my body before I even came to get my drink, asshole. It was you who came to me.”

“Because I saw how hard I made you.”

Prosciutto looked up at Nero’s red eyes. “Then stop licking your goddamn hand.”

It was when he saw a grin appear on Nero’s face. “Okay, now that was a good point.”

Nero bent down and pulled Prosciutto through his necklace for a deep and slow kiss, this time with all the time they had, with all feelings both of them were denying.

#la squadra #risotto nero #prosciutto #nsfw #18+#fanfic #smut #nero x prosciutto #risotto x prosciutto #risotto nero x prosciutto #txt

1 note · View note

somefics-dotcom · 3 years

Text

Snape’s (kinda) One-Shot 18+

NSFW / 18+ / Heavy smut under the cut!

He kept silent all that time, sitting on his black couch, staring directly at her by the doorframe.

“So, tell me, what was it that you wanted to speak to me?” She began to put down her heavy books on the long wooden table he had as the main study area of his dungeon.

She smiled at what he said. “Okay...” She said, heading back to the door and closing it with its key. “So you have other plans for this afternoon’s meeting—”

“It’s none of what you’re thinking.” He stated, once more with a cold tone. “Stop right there.”

She raised her eyebrow. Yes, he could read minds, he knew what she was thinking about. She was heading to him when the second order came, and she was caught by surprise this time.

“It’s not a school’s matter either,” he answered, without her voicing the question.

“Then what...”

“Sev, what are we...”

“Not yet.” He said, to what she snapped her eyes open again, without realizing she had closed them. “Take it off and sit here.”

“I told you,” he began, tidying the knot more tightly and then starring at her eyes, “it’s Professor Snape.” He left no room for arguing. She nodded. “Say it.”

“Professor Snape.”

“That’s better.”

To what Snape immediately moved away. She protested, sinking her head to his shoulder, a groan leaving her throat. “What you think you’re doing, Professor?”

“What the fuck are you doing, Sev?!” She demanded, starving for him, eyes with a dark glow in them.

“Professor Snape, please. I need more than that...” Speaking was hard, breathing was a heavy duty at that moment. His fingers were on her panties, ready to take them off for good.

Snape then pulled her body close to his, making her sit on the edge of the table. “Beg.” He whispered inside her ear, his breathing hot and superficial. “Beg to me.”

“Professor...” Her eyes began watering.

“Beg.”

“Professor Snape, please... Please!” She said louder, with more confidence.

“Sev...” She began. “That was amazing, Sev.”

“Thank you.” He sounded proud of himself.

“You let out some ‘bloody’ and some ‘fuck’, you know that?”

“I just said what came to me at the moment.”

“But how did you... Why did you...”

“I know you wanted to try something more... brutal. So I wanted to give it a try as well.” He looked up, pushing back his hair.

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Sev.”

“Just don’t expect it to happen very often. It makes me feel exhausted and it’s still the middle of the afternoon.”

She giggled at him. “So you’re not helping me at my Potions study?”

“No. You may use my room all you want, but I shall take a nap, I have classes later today, as you may well know.”

“What do I tell anyone that comes looking for you?”

“Tell them I went...” He stopped for a moment, considering what would be a good lie. “Tell them I went to a rather challenging meeting outside of Hogwarts.”

#Severus Snape #Snape x OC #Severus x OC #OC #txt #18+#smut

6 notes · View notes

somefics-dotcom · 3 years

Text

Comedian’s One-Shot 18+

Okay so, I wrote this back in 2017, when I had just watched Watchmen and the movie struck me. I wrote this one-shot of the Comedian x OC, that includes a bit of smut, and I still to this day like it very much, although I’d now change some things... Well, nonetheless, here it is.

NSFW / 18+ / Light smut under the cut!

He came home. She got up from the couch and almost instantly saw that there was something wrong. He looked troubled, but Edward Blake never looked troubled - his alter ego was the proof of that. It didn't matter how bad or serious the situation was, he would make fun of it and wear that ironic smile he was known for; but not this time. She saw his eyes were deep, something she never saw before, and that scared her. "Are you alright, love?"

He laid down his weapon to the center table and went to the kitchen with his back leaned down, to grab a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a full glass and drank it whole in a matter of seconds. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his black fingerless glove, and leaned down towards the table, eyes meeting the ground. At this time, she couldn't tell if he hadn’t heard her question or just hadn’t bothered in answering, but she wasn't worried about this matter - she was worried with his condition. "Eddie, you are scaring me..." Her voice but a squat.

He seemed to have listened this time, for he looked up at her, and she was able to take a good look into his eyes though still masked, that were not only deep, but sunken in tears, reddish by them. She felt like she had gotten punched right on her stomach, paced back, and took one hand to her mouth, refraining herself from saying anything. She never saw one glint of sadness on him, not even when he made the saddest of the jokes, nor could she ever imagined that Edward Blake was capable of crying. Everybody kept repeating he was a psychopath, and psychopaths, as far as she knew, didn't have empathy, nor were able to cry. Not that she believed he was a psycho - he had already given proof of not being one -, but he appeared to be strong and never to cry. He should be telling a joke, laughing, not letting tears form on the eyes of his.

When he noticed she got scared of the view, he grabbed a chair and walked to the living room once again, sitting on the border of the couch and placing the chair in front of him. He made sign for her to come and sit down in front of him, what she did, though she could barely walk towards him. Once she sat, he put both his hands on the sides of the seat of the chair, curving in to face her, eyes meeting eyes. Before he was able to begin speaking, she took his mask and put it on his side on the couch, which made him grin.

"I need to speak to you," he said in a sunken voice. "There is something wrong going on." He didn't even had the need to say so, it was written all over him.

"I am listening, love."

"There is something big happening, something I don't know what is, or by whom it is made. I tried to gather information about it, and even found out Moloch is on it, even though not in the way I thought he was. I went to his house. He looks troubled too. I think he even peed on bed when he saw me there." It made him laugh, which was a relief. "I can't say much about it, I don't even know what to say about it. The whole thing is just..." He seemed to look up for words. "Too messed up. Even for one fucking joke. It is too messed up." He felt silent, lost in thoughts. She didn't know what to say, or what he was talking about. He went to Moloch's? That was more than uncommon, though she knew it was not the right time to point this out. She stroke his brown hair back, stopping it from falling in his eys, trying to comfort him. But as she did so, his now not strong confidence grew weaker. "I don't want to lose you," he breathed out, eyes closed, exhausted. "I don't want to lose you." He repeated, this time looking inside her eyes. "I am scared." He finally admitted, more to himself than to her.

She took his chin, making him look up at her once more. The light was coming in from the windows, and one ray of light fell directly into his face. She starred at him, admiring his complexion, paying attention to each part of that face: his brows, his brown eyes, his nose, his moustache, his lips, and even his scar, the only part of his that he was not proud of. Actually, he felt ashamed of it. Her silence made him uneasy. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Seeing how handsome you are."

He scoffed. "No, I am not."

"Yes. Yes, you are." She assured him, gazing deep into his red eyes. He raised his eyebrow, not really sure on what to say. "Every part of you," she whispered as she leaned to kiss his right cheek, his scar.

The moment she touched it with her lips made him shiver. He released the grip of the chair and moved away from the kiss, a disgusted look on his eyes, which she noticed. He got up, went to the drawer and stood there, backs in her direction. He looked offended by her act. "Eddie... Eddie, please, have I done something wrong?" No answer or sound. "Eddie, please, I'm sorry."

He opened the drawer and picked a small mirror from it. He starred back at himself for a while, though only the left side of his face. He breathed in deep. "You said I am handsome." He then moved the mirror, now being able to see his face completely. "All I see is a ruin." He threw the mirror back inside, and sat down, though not in front of her this time. She pulled the chair below her as she got closer to him, wanting to face him again. "I hate it. I hate this goddamned scar and the memory of it. I hate Manhattan, I hate Vietnam. I hate it."

She hold his forearm, trying to call his attention. He looked down at her grip and then at her eyes. The anger inside started to fade. "I don't hate it," she stated, and went with her fingers to touch it. He instinctively draw back, and she stopped her hand midway through, but he noticed his reaction and relaxed, allowing her to continue. She countered it with her fingertips, feeling it, grasping it - stroking it with tenderness. He closed his eyes and leaned at her touch, seeking them. He, at first, rejected it, but now he felt embraced, though not in parts anymore, completely embraced by her. She also never thought she would see Edward Blake behaving in a lovingly way. He opened his eyes and she had a smile on her lips. "I love you."

He took his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her for a kiss. The act seemed violent at first, he was desperate for her, but his kiss was soft and slow, tasting her and stroking her hair as he did. This kiss was not the hungry kiss she was used to, always a promise for sex, but this was a kiss that meant "I love you too" in an Edward Blake's language, for even though he was sentimental at that time, she still doubted he could ever say those three words ever in his life - but it didn't even matter for her, acts always spoke loudly than words, anyway.

He pulled her body close to his, leaving her no option but to sit on his leg. He began stroking her back, and his other hand went for the side of her neck. Edward Blake was a huge man, and she almost disappeared when on his embrace, his large arms holding her firmly, his big hands being able to easily break any bone of her body if he so wished to do. But nothing of it made her fear him - she rather felt protected when she was on his arms. He broke the kiss and gazed at her for a while, eyes speaking in love and desire. He longed for her, but he would not carry on with it this time without knowing if she also felt the same way. She took off her shirt and went for his lips, this time with thirst and hunger, though his kiss was still slow and long, in a ballad rhythm.

"Hold on to me." He broke the kiss again and puffed out. She embraced his neck with her arms and his torso with her legs, as he stood up and took them to their bedroom. He laid her on her back and started to gently kiss her collarbone. It was a brand new situation for her - Edward Blake on foreplay? He would simply do it and then start smoking a cigar while drinking a glass of whiskey. Not that she was not enjoying it, but it seemed strange, for he was not having sex with her - he was making love to her.

He took off his shoulders' plate and his gloves to finally be able to properly touch and feel her skin. She pulled him back for another kiss as he began to untie his belt. He stood and she sat on the bed, but he pressed her chest back, not for her to lay, but for her to back away. She did and he sat in front of her when he finished taking off his boots, taking her by her wrist and pulling her close to him again. She sat on his lap, took off his shirt and ran her hands through his chest as she began kissing his neck, biting little parts of it, making him smile as she did so. A soft, tender smile. He had the will to act savagely, as he grabbed her hair, but she alarmed him with an "Eddie" call, making him come back to himself. She had to say that from time to time to stop his anger breakouts. He seemed surprised and disappointed on himself for this to have happened, but she went for another kiss, assuring him everything was okay and calming him down the way only she knew how to do. Now with his hands naked, he ran them through her back, each touch burning her, and finally held them to her sides, squeezing her firmly but ever so gently. She moaned in his mouth as he did so, and he left out a laugh, though too guttural to be an ordinary laugh. He was refraining himself from moaning, the way he always did. "Always playing the tough guy, eh?" She said in challenge.

"I've got a reputation to maintain. Or you think they call me the Comedian for no reason at all?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" She went to his neck once more, leaving tongue kisses from his collarbone, going up to his neck, passing through the line of his strong jaw and finally reaching his ear, which she bit and said "I love you" in a whisper, while with her fingers she barely touched his chest, only enough for him to know that they were there, grasping it. He slid his hands to her thighs and squeezed them more firmly now. This time, he was not able to stop the moan from coming out painfully. She was driving him mad with that statement. "And where is the Comedian now?" She asked in victory. "I can't hear his laughter."

He opened his eyes, and he had a hunter's look on. "I assure you, there is nothing on you to laugh about." And their lips collapsed again.

#watchmen #the comedian #the comedian x oc #oc #edward blake #txt #edward blake x oc #18+#smut

9 notes · View notes