#goddamn he has me all a-quiver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamespotterismydaddy · 3 months

Text

The Pier

luke castellan x reader

A/N: combined two requests for this

WARNINGS: SMUT!, DUBCON-ish, size kink, tummy bulge, rough sex, semi-public sex, jealous luke

WORD COUNT: 1,176 words

You are the pride of Camp Halfblood. A skilled archer, skilled musician, and slayer of the Cretan Bull, everything a demigod should be. You weren’t even the leader of the last quest but the kleos is all yours. Plenty of people at camp want to be around you but Luke Castellan just wants you and he’ll have you.

He sees you spend lots of time around Clarisse and the other Ares kids. Is that what you want? Someone arrogant and strong? He can be that- no, he is that. He’s the best goddamn swordsman at camp and everyone knows it. Maybe you just like assertive hotheads… and he can definitely do that as well. You don’t want someone to worship the ground you walk on; you want someone to put you in your place.

He watches you after dinner as you talk to fucking Aaron of all people. He might be a strong fighter but the guy’s a meathead. Luke could take him down in seconds. The envy fills his blood as the two of you talk. He’ll make you realize who you belong to.

“Oh, shoot I totally forgot my quiver at the pier.” You murmur, giving yourself a reason to part from your friends. In reality, you just want a moment alone.

Luke sees his perfect opportunity and follows you a few minutes after you leave. He sees you at the water, shoes off and dipping your toes in.

“Down here all alone?” You jump at the sound of his voice, turning to face him.

“Hey, Luke.” You give him a soft smile. “Just overstimulated I guess.”

“Overstimulated or needed to get some space from Aaron?”

You scrunch up your brows. “Aaron’s nice.”

“You’re too smart for him.”

“Intelligence is relative.” You defend. “He’s much more skilled with a sword than I could ever be.”

“He could never take care of you… give you what you need.” Luke stalks closer to you and you turn fully to face him, taking your feet out of the water.

“Couldn’t he?” You tease. “Are you jealous, Luke?”

“Of course i’m jealous. You’re wasting your time talking to a guy like him when you could be with me.” He’s just inches away from you, standing so close to where you sit. He lifts up your chin so he can look in your eyes.

“And what makes you so much better?” You smirk up at him.

“Get on all fours.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Get on all fours and i’ll show you what makes me better than him.” He holds your chin more tightly.

“Luke…” You murmur like he’s crazy for suggesting it. You’re on the pier for gods’ sake.

“It wasn’t a request.” He states. “Get on your hands and knees before I make you.” There’s fire in his eyes. He knows exactly how to talk to you.

You nibble at your lip, taking a moment to make the decision before you get on all fours.

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks.

Luke yanks down your pants and underwear all in one motion, making you gasp a little as you’re exposed to the cold air.

“Look at you, you’re fucking wet. Do you like it when I treat you like a slut?” He runs two fingers through your soaked folds and you whine. “I guess that’s a yes.”

You hear him unzip his own pants behind you and your pussy clenches reflexively when you feel him smack the head of his cock against your clit. You can’t see how big he really is, but you’re about to feel it. He pushes the tip in, groaning.

“Hades, you’re tight.”

When he gets halfway in, you try to move away, not used to the stretch. He grabs your waist to pull you back and causes himself to slam all the way into you, his hips meeting yours. He slaps his hand over your mouth so you don’t cry out too loudly while you get over the initial sharp feeling.

“Take it, baby. I know you can take it.” He assures you, taking his hand off your mouth when your string of whimpers has finally slowed.

“It doesn’t fit.” You whine out, reaching behind to try and push him away.

He grabs your hand and rubs soothing circles on your knuckles. “But you’re taking me so well. Your tiny little pussy has me all the way to the hilt.”

He seems enamoured by the way you’re stretched around him. He starts rubbing your clit to try and distract you so he can start thrusting but it isn’t enough.

“Not r-eady yet.” You pout.

“Yes you are.” He laughs a bit. Clearly your body is ready by the way your hips move back to meet his thrusts.

He knows what your body needs now so he starts fucking into you in earnest. His hips slam against yours and you can’t keep your little mewls at bay. He rolls his eyes and holds his hand over your mouth again, knowing you’ll need proper privacy for when he fucks you in the future if you’re going to be so loud.

“Look at you, moaning like a slut. Lucky i’m keeping you quiet or else your friends would come looking for you.” He pummels himself into as he speaks. “Or maybe you would like that? Maybe you want them to see me using you as my own personal cum-dump.” He laughs cruelly, pleased by the way you squeeze around him when he says the words.

His hand moves to your tummy, feeling his cock trying to push through with each thrust. The feeling makes him pound into you harder.

“Can you feel me all the way in your guts, right… here?” He pushes down on your tummy where the outline of his dick is and it’s lucky he’s covering your mouth because you scream at the feeling, completely soaking his cock as you spasm around him.

“Jesus, fuck.” He groans, not expecting that reaction from you. It causes him to stutter in his movement and cum inside your fluttering walls.

You breathe heavily as you come down from your peak and Luke is admiring the mess you made.

“Dirty girl. You squirted all over me.” He teases, fixing his clothes before slowly turning you around so he can help you.

You don’t think you’ve ever blushed so hard in your life. “Sorry.”

He chuckles at your embarrassment and kisses your red cheeks. “Don’t be sorry, baby. It was sexy. Just shows how much you liked it.”

“I did… like it.” You say softly and he smiles again.

“We’ll be doing it a lot more then.” He grabs your hands and helps you to your feet. “C’mon, or else we’ll miss dessert.”

He slips his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, partly to help you walk and partly to show everyone who you belong to. And when you walk back into the dining hall limping slightly and clinging to Luke, everyone knows you’re his.

He really is the best swordsman in camp.

taglists (comment to be added): Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween @10ava01

General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #pjo

1K notes · View notes

bitten-fruit · 3 months

Text

you re-enlist

And Captain John Price absolutely doesn't want you to. He begrudgingly takes you to his office to sign the paperwork - and shows you what your decision has brought you.

18+ MDNI - 5k words

tags: John Price x f!Reader, power play, oral and vaginal sex

a/n: To get some content on here I've pulled this from my longfic Licking Wounds on Ao3. Trimmed/tweaked it a little to make them tumblr friendly :)

“Just... let me sign what I need to.” You breathed, exasperated.

Captain Price sat behind his desk, leaning back insouciantly in his chair, bouncing his knee in irritation. His cautious and tired eyes flitted between yours, considering his words before he spoke.

“This is your last chance to change your mind.” He grunted.

You sucked your teeth frustration. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“You should.”

“Why? Will my presence really be that fucking draining for you?”

He quickly absorbed your sudden anger, mirroring it as he stood from his chair, leaning against the surface of his desk on white knuckles.

“You know that’s not what this is about.”

His tone was by turn seething and pleading, glowering at you with gruelling severity.

You scoffed. “Oh, so it would be.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be childish.”

“Childish?”

Evidently fed up with your petulant bickering, his head dropped from his shoulders as he grunted in frustration. “I just... I can’t understand why you’d come back to this.”

“You can’t?”

“You had the chance to get away from it. You got out.”

“Got out. You think I got out, do you? That once I got shipped back to London I was done with it all?” You groaned, impatient. “Just let me sign the goddamn paper."

There was visible dispute burgeoning behind his lips, but he stayed silent – leaning forward to tug open one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a pad of blank paper forms, hesitantly but methodically tearing one sheet free along the perforated line. He flipped it, placing it down on the wooden surface and twisting it so it faced you, pushing it towards the edge in your direction with his fingertips.

He plucked a ballpoint pen from the steel mesh cup on the edge of the desk, before dropping it on top of the paper form with a quiet clack.

Crossing his arms, he stood upright with a huff and watched you scrutinisingly; glare challenging yet reluctant.

You quietly swallowed, stepping abashedly towards the desk and leaning over it, holding the pen between your fingers and pensively clicking the end of it with your thumb.

Jaded eyes scanned each word, the tip of the pen trailing each line as you read. You checked box after box, writing down the answers to probing questions as though you were completing an exam under the shrewdly watchful eye of your professor. Existing health conditions, current medication, family lineage, previous rank, promotable status. It would almost be nostalgic, answering questions such as these again, for the first time since you were promoted to sergeant four years ago – if it didn’t carry such painful weight, and weren’t so rife with sordid history.

The nib of your pen met that dotted line, finally, at the bottom of the form. Your eyes looked at the conditions and implications of your signature, that thick paragraph above the box, though not a single word was absorbed by your busy mind. It didn’t matter – you knew the consequences of that pen meeting the paper. Even if the Captain wished it, signing your life back into the hands of the SAS was not something that could be easily revoked.

He seemed to relish hopefully in your hesitation, his breath slowing as he watched you consider, pen hovering cautiously over the paper.

You briefly glanced up at him, from under your challenging eyebrows, meeting his eye. His stiff gaze wordlessly pleaded with you, his mouth in an austere line.

Steadfast, you ignored his silent dispute.

You signed the dotted line.

There.

Done.

No backing out now.

A soldier again.

You were astonished at the adrenaline a mere signature could pump from your heart, quivering with it, as you dropped the pen to the desk and stood upright.

His steely eyes did not leave you, face replete with a medley of discernible emotions; ire, anxiety, remorse, solemnity. Arms still crossed firmly over his chest, you listened as his heaving lungs drew in a deep, exasperated breath.

He licked his teeth before he spoke.

“That’ll be all then, Sergeant.”

He dismissed you bluntly, coarse voice dripping with derision. A crease formed in your forehead, taken aback by his sudden dismissal, breath hitching at his use of your rank instead of your name; sergeant, a title he hadn’t referred to you by in two years.

It was as though he was satisfied, doing his best to show you what your decision had brought you, to make you regret it. You were his subordinate again. Just his sergeant.

“I knew you’d enjoy it in the end, Captain.” You seethed, tone draped in sardonicism, an immediate retaliation.

His brow furrowed as he looked down his nose at you. “Enjoy what, eh?”

“You finally get to order me around again, don’t you?”

“You-”

“Am I dismissed? Or are you going to command me to drop and give you fifty?” You growled pettishly, scowling up at him. “It must’ve been hard, not being able to command me to do your bidding while I was a civilian. But that didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”

He grunted, an increasingly enraged sigh escaping his chest. “I didn’t want to be giving you orders again.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I didn’t. Just because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not being commanded to do it, doesn’t mean I’ve been waiting for the chance to.”

A kick to the stomach, you worried you’d lose your balance with the blow.

Grimacing at him, you stepped your weight onto your back foot in reaction to his venomous accusation.

“Fuck you.”

You hissed it through your teeth, unable to conjure up any intelligent rebuttal, only lashing out with the reprisal that your frenetic emotions scrambled together.

He sniffed irately, adjusting his arms over his chest.

“Can’t talk to your captain that way, Sergeant.”

Your jaw hung loose in disbelief, overcome with a cold rage that made your body quake as it flooded your arteries.

“Fuck you,” you repeated wryly, daring. “Are you going to order me not to talk back to you, sir? You prick?”

He glared at you with challenging contempt.

“You want me to give you an order, do you?”

“I want you to get off your fucking high horse.”

“Yeah? Am I too honourable?”

“Honourable? You’re a sanctimonious p–”

He put his hands on his hips, brashly sucking his teeth before he interrupted you.

“Take off your shirt.”

His hoarse command pierced the thick air like a bullet.

The wind was viciously sucked from your lungs, then, your racing heart jolted under your ribs with such voltage it felt as though you had been shocked by a defibrillator. You could only stare at him, stupid, waiting for him to relent, to take it back, to say that he was kidding.

His expression, now, was unreadable. You weren’t certain whether he was purposefully keeping his countenance devoid of emotion – or, if, you had abruptly lost any and all ability to understand him or his intentions.

He was a stranger, but a familiar one. A captivating one.

Before you could stammer out a semblance of a response, he continued.

“That’s the sort of order you’ve been wanting from me, isn’t it?” He goaded darkly, seemingly smug at his ability to render you flustered and wordless with one short sentence.

Dumbstruck, still, you could only swallow a pointed breath as you desperately tried to read any clear objective in his shrouded blue eyes.

“Go on.”

He’s not kidding.

“You wanted an order, I gave you one.”

Fuck.

You were completely staggered by the whiplash. Your distended heart thumped so vigorously in your chest you thought it might crack a rib.

There was a conviction within you, somewhere, to question him. To question if he was being serious, to ask him if this was some kind of sick joke to make you regret your decision.

And while you believed that was the case, that it was a derisive retribution, a game to get back at you – there was a stronger urge to play along. To meet his challenge, to execute his dare.

Meeting his indignant gaze with yours, you tucked your fingers under the hem that sat between your waist and hips, peeling it up your torso and stretching it over your shoulders, then past your head. Sweeping your loosened hair out of your face, you held the thin black fabric in the other hand before dropping it to the linoleum floor. You shivered a little in the cool air of the room, your stiffening nipples concealed by the cups of your rarely-worn grey marl brassiere – practical and unsexy.

But the look on his face was telling; he hadn’t truly expected you to comply.

That surprise waned quickly. His dark eyes tried their best to hold your stare, but they failed him – raking over your torso, jaw clenching as his gaze stuck brazenly to your exposed cleavage.

Trembling with adrenaline, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

You expected dispute; you anticipated he’d say, I wasn’t serious. And that would be a satisfying reaction – your effort to make him uncomfortable would prove a success, a victory, you’d have the last figurative word.

He wiped down his face with an open hand, rubbing his beard anxiously as he wrestled with what to say, how to react – maybe some attempt to restrain himself. He leaned against the surface of the desk, resting his weight on his knuckles.

Through gritted teeth, he uttered his next command.

“Bra.”

You swallowed timorously.

It was surreal, really, you worried you were hallucinating – you imagined that in reality he was shouting at you to stop, but you were unable to hear him over your carnal psychosis.

But it was too late now, to stop yourself. You were driven to finish what you started. Changing your mind now, pulling your shirt back over your head and running out the door – would leave you questioning whether any of it was real. You wouldn’t survive in that oblivion, between reality and dream, fact and fantasy.

You needed proof.

You reached behind your back, contorting your shoulders to allow your fingers to grip the clasp against your spine. Your breasts pillowed out of the top of the soft cups as you stretched the band to unhook it, before slipping the straps down your shoulders. It slid from your chest, down your arms, gently – it, too, fell to the floor; you dropped it on top of your abandoned t-shirt.

You drew in a quivering breath, the skin of your breasts tingling as the goosebumps elicited by their exposure trickled across their soft flesh.

He sucked in a heavy breath, deep and slow, rugged and rasping. He took a step, and you retracted slightly; but you watched like cautious prey, as he walked around from the far side of his desk, to the front of it. He leaned on the very edge of the surface, not quite sitting on it, as he insouciantly crossed one boot over the other. His lascivious eyes did not leave you, absorbing every feature, every curve, like he was admiring an artwork.

Despite the metre and a bit of distance from him, you felt the dense heat that hung in the air between the two of you, radiating from him like he was a fucking oven.

“Trousers.”

A brief conflict almost escaped you, but he quickly smothered it.

“Off.”

Whatever reluctance that lingered melted away, then, dripping off of you like a layer of sticky ice cream – by virtue of the unwavering sternness of his command. And that, you realised, was where your comfort lay; where there was no ambiguity, no remorse for a poorly made decision, no culpability for your actions. If you were following an order, the onus was on him.

So you followed it.

Your kittenish fingers went to the button of your grey cargo trousers, popping it undone, slyly pulling down the zip of your fly. You flayed back the open waistband, pushing them down your hips, struggling briefly to pull them past your ass; its recent plumpness made your pants a touch too small. The polyester fabric loudly shuffled in the distended silence as the trousers fell down your legs, into a puddle at your feet; you stepped out of them as though out of a pond.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze once again, though, he had already charged at you; quickly taking the base of your head with large hands and pulling you towards him. He forced his eager lips against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, such an aggression that your first primal instinct was to resist him with claws against his chest.

But you were quick to surrender to him, relishing in the taste of him, his tongue, his breath hot in your mouth, you sucked it deep into your chest. Your starving hands coiled up and around his neck, scratching at the tense muscles in his heaving back through the fabric of his uniform jersey; hooking into him in some feline effort to make sure he was real, to prevent his escape, to keep him from being stolen away.

His mouth wasn’t on yours for long, though, dragging wetly across your jaw to your neck, the crook of your shoulder; he chewed at your soft, fervid skin, teeth skimming and barely digging into the tendonous flesh. His vicious hands gave you no reprieve, clutching at any part of you that could force you closer, tighter against him – ensnaring the meat of your hips, your waist, kneading at your sensitive breast with the other.

He separated from you only briefly, though his possessive hands didn’t leave you. Crouching slightly, he hooked his arms behind your thighs, under your ass – deftly hoisting you upwards with no visible effort. You clutched the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips to maintain your balance as he lifted you, turning on his heel and carting you towards the desk. He quickly used a free hand to sweep aside the papers, flinging them to the floor in a confetti; he put you down hastily, keeping you close, the cold surface of the varnished wood biting at your bare skin.

He gave you a transitory respite, carefully checking your face before he went any further; likely ensuring you weren’t crying this time, that he hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary. Whatever look you gave him in return was outside of your control or perception – but it was an invitation, evidently.

He dove down to kiss you again, but fleetingly – his savage lips trailed down from yours, biting their way along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You leaned back slightly on the desk to allow his avid venture, his ravenous mouth biting and suckling wherever it landed; drowning momentarily in the softness of your breast, cupping it with his wide hand to push the pillowy flesh against his face.

That wasn’t his final destination, though. His mouth only brushed over your nipple, sloppily kissing down your tensing stomach as he lowered himself to one knee, clutching your waist with both hands on his journey downward to hold you still. You felt your heart in your throat, in utter disbelief; you could only suck down jagged breaths as his lips grazed against your lower belly, just above your hip, teasing the elastic hem of your underwear. He gingerly kissed your mound through the thin cotton, controlling hands holding your hips by the bone.

Too rapacious to taunt you for long, he tugged sharply at the hips of your panties, leaning back so he could pull them down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Your foot rested gently on his collarbone as he paused in apparent admiration, your exposed, spread pussy mere inches from his face; his breath despite its heat was cold against your wet, feverish skin. You felt embarrassed at his close inspection, his unashamed reverence – but his murky gaze broke away from your intimacy, instead meeting your eye. He wore an expression of unassailable pride, though cloaked in an avaricious hunger; he stared at you cruelly from under his brow, daring you to deny him.

Hitching your legs over his arms so that they rested on his shoulders, he clutched the side of your thigh with his mammoth hand while he pushed his lips into the inside of your leg, high enough, close enough, to make you quiver in desperate anticipation.

Piercing eyes still locked on yours, peering up from your eager flesh, his husky voice murmured deeply into your skin.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He jibed, almost a growl, as though teasing you for your recent behaviour – scolding you for acting out instead of asking for it, causing a scene instead of using your words like a grown-up.

Another kiss, higher, closer, teeth grazing the supple meat of your inner thigh, coarse beard prickling against the burning skin of the edge of your cunt.

You couldn’t think of the right answer, if there were such a thing, to his question – your head was by turn empty and running a million miles a minute. Really, you didn’t even know the answer.

Was it what you wanted? This entire time? Has it been what you wanted since the last time, in his barrack in Urzikstan? Since the gala? Or, even, since you met him?

Your answer left your wet throat before you had the sense to question it, or rationalise it.

“Yes.”

You breathed, a whisper, barely, almost a squeak. You weren’t certain that it was the truth, either – but it was what you wanted now, so it was honest in some sense.

With firm hands he adeptly tugged your hips so you perched precariously on the very edge of the desk, allowing him ease of access to you.

He cruelly denied you still, placing maliciously soft kisses against the slit of your pussy, torturing you with only a light pressure while you willed him to dive deeper. An ardent whimper fled your chest, quiet and pleading.

Whatever carnivore he was doing his level best to restrain escaped its prison at your sheepish sound; his monstrous hands dug deep into the flesh of your hips, maw lunging forward and pointed tongue parting your slick folds like he was searching for water. It dipped into you only briefly, a momentary taste of the dripping syrup he seemed to take pride in inducing from you – before he used it to glide up to your clit where it was nestled. With ravenous lips he suctioned it into his mouth, devouring you; dextrously chafing your sensitive bud with a flat tongue, maintaining a vacuum that made a dangerously loud and needy moan escape your throat.

He only hastened his torment in response, drinking you like he might die of thirst, breathing heavily through his nose so as not to allow you even a second of relief from the unbearable suction. Feverish claws clasped at the top of his head, running through his short hair and scratching at his scalp, holding his head where you wanted it. Your head hung back off your shoulders, briefly staring at the panelled ceiling before your eyes unwittingly fluttered shut, doing your best to swallow the choked cries that threatened to make the whole army base aware of your depravity.

Your constricting legs inadvertently tried to push him away, your body overwhelmed and desperate for a break from his ruthless consumption, almost too oversensitive to be pleasurable – but not quite. He restrained you tightly, though, not allowing you to flee from him for even a second; his firm hands controlled your hips with an alarming strength, head moving with you as though predicting the direction of your attempts at escape, mouth not separating from you once.

One hand retreated from your side, but to quickly prevent your bucking his constraining arm slithered over your lower stomach, clutching the far hip and using his elbow to hold you down to the desk. His free thumb, then, crept to your cunt under his chin. Despite how slick your skin was, drenched in both your clear sap and his saliva; the clenching muscles of your vagina were squeezed so tightly he had to push his thumb into you with effort, almost popping as it broke past your resistant entrance.

That seemed to weaken his resolve, the tightness of your muscles clamping around him rhythmically, in tune with the burgeoning, forcible orgasm that threatened to crash over you like a tidal wave; he released a ragged, resigned exhalation into your skin. You felt yourself beginning to drown in it, that swirling ocean. The floor, the desk, the room sunk in it, slipping away from you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, only him keeping you afloat.

But he stopped, then, thumb begrudgingly slipping out from inside you, suddenly releasing his merciless suction and separating his wet mouth from your yearning pussy. You groaned in dispute, cut short, a sharp rush of air escaping your overwrought lungs.

“Not yet.” He grunted hoarsely, barely audible.

Brows twisted in pleading frustration, you looked down at him, meeting his frightening glare as he pushed himself to stand; beard glistening with the wetness of you, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” You whined breathily, panting as you watched him tower upright, looming over you in licentious authority.

“I’m not having you come yet.”

His injunction was authoritarian, uttered darkly, his rumbling voice so hoarse it sounded animalistic; a growl, a threat. He stood between your legs, still, you watched in quiet, anticipating obedience as his livid hands tore at his belt. Ferociously unbuckling it, as though it would fight against him – he tugged open the button of his trousers, ripping down the fly and unsheathing his rigid cock from his straining boxers; menacing, it dropped heavy out of the elastic waistband, the solid shaft landing against your ravening cunt with a hard, wet slap.

You winced slightly at the sore impact, and his humanity seemed to return to him momentarily; softening face inches from yours, his attentive blue eyes scanned your features for reluctance.

“Tell me no.” He urged throatily, “tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

A shaky breath seeped through your lips, your delirious gaze flitting between his eyes, lashes fluttering as you processed his promise.

“I don’t want you to stop, Captain.” You uttered weakly, entreating.

His careful eyes darkened quickly at your bashful plea, watching your lips form the syllables of his rank like you were stroking him with it. His dominant hands returned to your hips, then, clutching at the bone and lifting your pelvis so it was angled right, just where he wanted it.

His clouded glare didn’t leave yours, his fingers dipping into your saturated pussy as though scooping the viscous fluid that dribbled from you; you watched, beguiled, as he rubbed your juices up the thick shaft of his cock, coating the head in it, briefly unable to stop himself from fucking his fist, huffing carnally, while he was lubricated by your watery come.

With a tug of your legs that were coiled around his hips, you grounded him, impatient; his sinister gaze met yours again, watching your wanton expression as he obliged you and dragged the soft head of his cock down your slit, the cruel pressure against your agitated clit making your body twitch. He restrained your spasm with his free hand your waist, keeping your pelvis still, as the tip of his length nestled between your lips, pressing against your clenching entrance.

Gripping himself by the stiff base, he pushed past your tight opening with his full weight; stretching it tautly around the girth of his cock as he stuffed you with it. You let out a pained squeak as it abruptly filled you, ramming against your cervix with a pressure that made you flinch.

The sharp soreness briefly frightened you – you had been deprived of the sensation of that angry thickness inside of you, ever since…

You didn’t let your mind go back there, not for a second; your eyelids shot open, desperate gaze sticking hurriedly to your Captain, his riled and yet gentle expression bringing you back to him, rugged but soft hands holding your hips as he impaled you on the length of him. You clutched the fabric of his jersey tight over his chest, gripping his arms, his shoulders; keeping him real, corporeal, there with you. He let out a strained grunt as he pulled you down onto him, as deep as your insides would allow him to go, to the hilt; he held you there, forcing you to squirm.

Your delicate hands held his warm neck, leaning forward as you pulled his head down to kiss him; mouth open and tongue desperate to taste him again, to feel his hot breath against your face, the soft scratch of his beard on your chin. He returned your kiss, tender, compassionate – a stark juxtaposition to his ruthless incursion; rutting into you powerfully but methodically, slow but hard, deep enough to be painful.

But the hurt was translated by your aroused nerves into a bestial pleasure, using your goading legs to pull him further into you, you felt his cock push against your aching organs. It raked against your sodden walls on its way out, a slight sting as it dragged along your taut opening – before filled you again, abrupt, sharp; it forced a sweet cry from your fevered chest into his mouth. He grinned arrogantly against your lips, a ragged, breathy chuckle taunted you in response.

You separated from him, then, lying back over the surface of the desk; you arched your back, angling your hips so that his length beat your walls more viciously, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching at the edge of the desk above your head with straining claws. Exposed to him now, on display, his thrusting only increased in vehemence, speed, depth; carnivorous hands digging into the meat of your hips as if you might slip away from him, forcing you down on him with each rut.

Eager for release, your fingers glided down your stomach, navigating diffidently to your clit; you drew wet circles over it, letting out a soft whine as you pleasured yourself with the rhythm of his accelerating thrusts.

“Shit.”

He groaned huskily at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, his face twisted into an exasperated rapture, forcing himself to slow down slightly so as not to push himself over the edge too quickly.

He stopped you, hastily; a stern hand tightly ensnaring your wrist and tearing your fingers from you. He pulled your arm upward, pinning it firmly to the wooden surface underneath you, holding your hand by your head. He leaned over you, then, making you watch as he held his free hand to his lips, spitting lecherously into his fingertips; they found your clit without needing to look, stroking the oversensitive spot inexorably, the pressure cruel and unrelenting. His head hung from his shoulders, mouth landing against the hot skin of your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along your collarbone as he ruined you.

The union of the two sensations – his cock, hard as stone, fucking into your stomach, and merciless fingertips tormenting your swollen clit; it surged within you, frayed nerves electrocuting you as your inevitable orgasm loomed, its delay rendering it incensed and sorely overpowering.

He must have felt the muscles of your walls clamping down on the length of him as it dawned on you, the change in the music of your sounds; aching whines growing louder, crawling from your labouring throat.

“You gonna come on me, are ya? Beautiful thing?”

He growled into your skin, only increasing the severity of his torture, relentless in his goal to finish you.

Your delirious tongue was unable to form a word in response, only releasing a high-pitched and arduous cry as your unforgiving orgasm collided with you, waves of carnal heat pulsing from the base of you, the muscles of your bullied pussy clenching tightly around his avid cock.

“That’s it.”

He grinned against your neck as he kissed you there, moving with you, allowing no escape.

“Good girl.”

With no apparent intention of slowing down to offer you a reprieve, he instead began speeding up, forcing you to squirm and shriek in dispute at the overstimulation. Your desperate, animal fingers clawed at his wrist, struggling to tear his stiff hand away from your cunt – but he relented, eventually, falling victim to his own pleasure as he shifted his focus to fucking you harder, deeper.

He scooped an arm under your back, lifting you just slightly from the surface of the desk as he hovered over you; the other hand holding the bone of your hip tightly, keeping it steady while he rammed you. You listened in rapture to his grunts of ecstasy, gentle hands clutching the back of his neck, nails grazing his hot skin as you coaxed him to chase his own release.

You pressed soft lips into his bearded cheek, comforting, reassuring him; and that seemed to do the trick, bringing him too close.

“Fuck.”

He groaned hoarsely in begrudging pleasure as he paused, for just a hesitant second, before reluctantly tugging his cock out of you and slamming the wet shaft of it it against your mound.

You panted heavily, holding your forehead against his, relishing in the sensation of his hot come shooting over your stomach, painting you; it dribbled down your sides, down the creases of your hips, dangerously close to your cunt. He winced against you, twitching involuntarily as he pushed the last of his semen out of the head, drooling onto your febrile skin.

You kissed him, again; he tenderly pressed his lips against yours in return as he took the moment to catch his breath. His mouth left yours after a moment and landed in the crook of your neck, his heaving body hung over you, propped up by his elbows on the desk under you. You felt him kiss under your ear, his warm breath and prickling beard sending a shiver down the nape of your neck.

You wanted to say something, anything – but there were no words you could think of to offer him. Gratitude? An apology? Your brain was fried, fucked into pliable mush.

Instead you lay in silence, embracing him for as long as it would last, doing your best not to consider the consequences that lay ahead of you as a result of such an unbelievably foolish lapse in judgement.

He’d been your captain for only a few minutes, and you had fucked him already.

And yet you wished the moment could last infinitely; savouring his gentle lips as they planted drowsy kisses on your neck, tired hands caressing your waist in what felt like wordless praise, a silent gratitude.

Despite the reservations, the guilt, the doubts that stormed around you, deafening; your thoughts encircled only one thing, one source of comfort.

He was your Captain again.

#john price #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price #cod fanfic #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain john price smut #john price eats pussy like he'd die of thirst fight me on that

1K notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 1 month

Text

I CAN SEE YOU

bodyguard!leon scott kennedy x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,381 warnings; p in v sex, that's about it lol, maybe angst if you squint summary; leon doesn't believe he's good enough for you. but even he can't resist when he has you up against the wall of a storage closet five minutes to showtime...

“Five minutes to show time!”

“Has anyone seen her?”

“Where is she?”

Her lips parted in a gasp as she etched crescent moons into his shoulders through the black muscle tee, toes curling as her legs snaked around his waist, trapping him in closer. A hand slithered its way to the hair at the nape of his neck, her head falling forward to press her lips against the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder as he rocked his hips into her.

“We shouldn’t…” Leon groaned and muttered a sharp “fuck!” when she clenched around him, drawing him in closer. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. “…we shouldn’t be doing this.”

She mewled beside his ear at a particularly rough thrust, curling her fingers around a fistful of dark blonde ringlets at his nape and tugging. Leon pulled his face away from her shoulder, his dark sea of blue surging into her gaze like a comet colliding into a planet. Despite his words, Leon’s fingertips burrowed further into the flesh of her hips, her skin swelling with bruises as he drove his cock harder into her, impossibly deeper all the while. They’d only five more minutes to finish, and there’d be no way Leon would be able to do his job if he didn’t get his release now.

“When will you quit acting so noble?” She managed to ask between gasps and stifled moans, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against his. “Like you don’t want this as much as I do?”

Leon hissed a string of curses through his teeth and she caught his lips with hers before he could drop his forehead to her shoulder again. Leon groaned into her mouth, allowing himself to be lost in the battle between their tongues for a moment, for just a second. Her smile was a crescent against his mouth and she leaned forward, hoping to deepen the seal of their lips before he pulled away, panting as he pistoned himself as deep inside of her as he could go, driving her back up the wall in the process.

“Leon!” She gasped, brows knit in pleasure as his hips stilled, the head of his cock pressed so hard against the spongey spot inside of her that she was seeing stars.

“You smeared your lipstick,” he replied simply and she peeled her eyelids back open just as Leon reached out with his thumb, wiping at the smeared makeup on the side of her mouth. Her bottom lip quivered at his touch and Leon peered up at her through hooded lids, sweat beading his hairline and chest heaving in rhythm with his breath.

For a moment, all was silent. For a moment, they only looked at each other, the moment so tender and intimate and such a stark difference from just a few seconds ago. Her heart swelled in her chest the longer she looked at Leon and she let her hands fall from around his neck, to his shoulders, to the chest of his dark ‘BODYGUARD’ muscle tee. She could feel his heart pound beneath her fingertips, beating to the same rhythm as hers. Leon’s bottom lip twitched, as if words hung on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released until they were interrupted by a sound coming from outside the storage closet door.

“TWO MINUTES TO SHOWTIME! WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCKIN’ FIND HER BEFORE I LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND?”

She released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in and Leon blinked, bowing his head down between her legs where they were connected, the base of his cock glistening with her slick. He inhaled a shaky breath as she used her legs around his waist to draw herself in closer, wrapping her arms back around his neck. Leon gazed down at her with those enigmatic eyes that held the darkest of oceans, so inviting, she found herself diving in nearly every time she looked at him.

“Kiss me?” She asked, shuddering as she inhaled. Leon’s gaze softened, eyebrows furrowed as he cupped her cheek with one strong hand, holding onto her elbow with the other. He drew her lips back into his where they belonged, beginning to rock his hips into hers again as their tongues danced around one another.

Warmth flooded her cheeks as he picked up his pace, his thrusts harder and more purposeful than they were only a moment before. Her lips parted in a gasp, breaking their kiss as her forehead fell onto his, tears brimming the outskirts of her sockets.

“Leon, I’m so close,” she whispered, mewling as that knot tied deep in the pit of her stomach began to shudder, ready to shatter. Leon nodded against her forehead, a soft curse tumbling from his full, pink lips. “I know,” he murmured back, his grip on her elbow tightening as he thrusted again and again and again, certain to leave a bruise on her cervix.

She could feel tears tip over the glassy barrier in her sockets as bliss washed over her body, her toes curling, her muscles twitching, legs shaking. Leon cursed again as he, too, met his end, hot spurts of his cum filling her up in ropes, painting her white.

“ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME!” She could hear someone yell from outside the door and despite her aching limbs and her sobbing pussy, she softly pushed Leon away just as he snapped her panties back into place. She mewled when the material hit her sore clit, a quiet “sorry” falling from his lips as he worked his pants back up his thighs.

She fixed her stage outfit and Leon helped her down from the shelf he had fucked her into, helping adjust the strap of her top on her shoulder. She looked up at him and after a moment, he met her stare.

“Well?” She said. “Do I look okay?”

“THIRTY SECONDS TO SHOWTIME!”

The corner of Leon’s lips curved into a soft smile, the most tender she swore she’d ever seen him look before, “you look like a star.”

Lights blinded her as she rose from beneath the stage, the crowd like an echo behind her earpieces. She sang the first note into her microphone, closing her eyelids shut as the bass rumbled in her chest. She was on the stage now, a limelight finding her as she faced the sea of screaming fans and phone lights.

“You brush past me in the hallway and you don’t think I, I, I can see you, do you?” she sang the opening line, swaying her hips to the beat, pointing into the crowd as she pranced upon the stage. The ache between her legs was still evident but she pushed thoughts of sex and Leon to the side, letting herself be swayed and taken away by the music.

She sang lyrics she remembered writing deep into the night in a dimly-lit hotel room after Leon had forced himself out of her bed to leave, insisting he was no good for her and she deserved better. The memory of that night still haunted her, especially when she sang these lyrics.

“But what would you do if I went to touch you now?” She sang low into the mic, snapping her palm against her hip to the soft beat. “What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a… so-ow-ound?”

She made her way to one side of the stage as she sang the beginning of the chorus, eyeing the edge of the platform where she knew Leon would be, his back turned to face the crowd.

“And I could see you up against the wall with me. And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?” Her lips curved into a smile against the microphone as she stared into the back of Leon’s dark blonde hair. “That I can see you.”

Although his back was to her, she still had the premonition that he knew she was right behind him. She brought her mic down to her hip and turned, hair whipping behind her as she began a slow strut to the other side of the stage.

She had the strange feeling that he knew she could see him.

a/n; so here's another fic i've had drafted since literally july and only just now got around to finishing it LMAO my first leon fic! i've been wanting to write for this man for years now but only just now got around to it...

TAGLIST;

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #Spotify

696 notes · View notes

sleepybbie · 8 months

Note

Your Dan Feng thirst makes me so... Oonga boonga.... Thank yew for the meal op 🙏 if I may humbly ask for a blurb of thirst can we have Dan Feng showing Dan Heng the ropes on how to make you—Dan Heng's (and maybe soon Dan Feng's as well)—partner feel great in bed? After all!! What better way to learn how to please your own partner than yourself!!

𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | dan heng & dan feng drabble

a/n: ahhh another dan heng request! >.< it’s not so surprising to see how popular my first hsr fav has grown ^o^ <3 yet still, i’m excited to see more works of mine regarding him because he’s the most requested in my inbox rn :3

dan heng il x fem!reader x dan feng

warning: smut ;3 some fingering here and there ^^

“i refuse to believe someone like you is my reincarnation.”

DAN HENG clicks his tongue in annoyance, sweat slowly dripping across his face as he pathetically watches DAN FENG spreads your legs apart with his long fingers, perfectly along with scissoring open your cute little clit as you squirm and whine, his tail wrapping around your waist to keep you still.

this was not what he meant when he needed slow guidance on how to please you better, as a sweet lover. his goddamn irritating incarnation however just had to pop out of nowhere and give him a ‘lesson’ on how to take you to a seraphic paradise. you were vulnerable, unable to move from your lover’s incarnation’s tail, your bare back from your disheveled clothes pressed against dan feng’s chest while his other free hand toys with your tits.

“..deciding to want to make love with your beloved when you don’t know how to treat her in bed properly…”

“i don’t need you teaching me how,” dan heng tells him, an angered expression written across his face. dan feng scoffs, his digits rubbing your cunt in slow circles, feeling your fluids drip slowly out from your cavern while you mewl loudly. “then why are you looking so intensely while i fondle her?” the former high elder speaks, his gaze never leaving dan heng’s.

dan heng anxiously swallows a lump down his throat, his aching cock pleading to be freed from his pants as the male desperately tries to refrain from touching himself right at that moment. the sight of you being touched and pleasured by his incarnate, makes him annoyed…yet at the same time, it was quite the sight to witness. your breasts about to pop out of your clothing, lips leaking few drools while your pretty cunt was displayed in front of him, glistening like a gem as dan feng teased your hole with his fingers.

“i must say, she is sort of acting like a woman with sexual innuendos.”

“are you saying she’s a ‘whore?”

“is that how you people call it these days? hmph. then, yes..you’re quite lucky…she’s not lucky however…” dan feng removes his hand from your tits, grabbing your chin to make you face him as he continued to speak to your lover, his reincarnation. aeons, he and dan heng really look alike, but instead—dan feng’s gaze was a little more colder, a little more stern. “she’s supposed to make love with someone who’s supposed to be my reincarnation, whom ends up not knowing how to please a woman.”

dan feng slowly makes you face back to your lover, who’s cheeks were red, panting heavily as he sits there and watches his incarnate prod open your pussy wide, drips of your impurity leaking from your hole as a loud whine escapes your lips. dan heng jolts.

“you—

“if you want to please a woman, it’s best to know how to do foreplay. first, you’d want to rub her clit down, just like this..” dan feng slowly repeats his steady massages down your weeping cunt, watching as you quiver at his touches, long sharp fingers kneading them down, your whines never fainting away. he’s…good. you love dan heng with all your heart, but his incarnation was talented with this. the former high elder chuckles, “what a loud mouth she has. it sounds like she’s wanting more, don’t you think?”

“wha—

“quit yapping and come here. you look like you are about to pop over there if you don’t touch her,” dan feng cuts him off, shushing him down as he commands your lover to come over closer. oh no…

dan heng approaches, not so eagerly, but slowly, his red face sending dan feng a death glare when he arrived close to you. a small smile appears over dan feng’s face, like he was smug about dan heng holding back to a pretty girl like you. “do not hesitate now, touch her.” dan feng tells him, removing his hand from your clit as he grabs dan heng’s wrists and places his fingers on top of your hole. he stops for a moment, looking at you with a nervous expression, breath heavy as his chest pants. you were so…pretty, so helpless, you were pleased. that’s all he ever wanted.

dan feng rolls his eyes, “what are you waiting for?”

“s-shut up…”

forgive me, y/n…

dan heng was fumed by his words, it was all over his face. he was frustrated and turned on. you looked at him, feeling dan feng’s tail pushing you further up to him before dan heng slips a finger inside your cunt for a brief moment. you cry, and he pulls it out again, flustered. he looked at his finger, and saw how drenched it already was from your fluids.

that…was

“see? she’s liking it. do it again, with two fingers this time.”dan feng orders him, his hands still continuing to play with your breasts, twirling your hardened nipples around.

dan heng did just what he was told, giving his forefinger and ring finger a small lick, before splitting you open with his fingers. a loud moan escapes out of your throat, head pushing back on dan feng’s shoulder as the two vidyadharas pleased you with ease. dan heng focusing on his fingers in your cunt, while dan feng parades you with praises, licking your earlobe, toying around with your tits.

oh fuck, dan heng thinks. the face your giving right now…he’s so fucking hard from the sight you’re making him receive.

“feels good, darling?” dan feng questions to you, and you nod. dan heng looks at him, looking like he’s about to stab him with cloud piercer any moment now.

“don’t forget who she belongs to.”

“ah, a shame. it appears she likes the both of us…”

fuck yeah you did. it was clear dan heng was jealous, and so, he leans in, giving you a passionate kiss, muffling your cute noises. with dan heng’s fingers, mouth and dan feng’s praises that were suddenly being possessed by filth along with his rhythm of his palms that presses down on your nipple, you won’t be going to last long. you were growing louder and louder of every minute. dan feng pulls dan heng away from you, resulting in a very irked dan heng.

“what the hell?!”

“patience. look at her, she’s close.”

dan feng was right. the knot in your belly was about to be cut open, hearts moulding into your pupils as a euphoric sigh passes your lips. it didn’t take long for you to squirt your release out, dan heng closing his eyes as your orgasm came to the edge, spilling some on his face and mostly on the ground, your hazy dreamscape of pleasure weighing down on your mind as you came down, panting hard. dan heng too was panting, face flushed as you heard him cursing underneath his breath.

“impressive. seems like you made a girl squirt on your first try.” dan feng says, before he bends you over, your face hitting the area of dan heng’s fabric pants before the former high elder hikes your skirt up.

“next, you should know how to let her take cock.” he says, and you knew you were going to end up very sore afterwards.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr smut #dan heng x reader #dan heng il x reader #dan feng x reader #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x you #honkai star rail smut #lily’s ❀ drabbles

1K notes · View notes

ms0milk · 1 year

Text

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the goddamned family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, it’s only been a few hours, and still he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shouto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him out of the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of five thousand pounds of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice and the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner I go in, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and blessedly you don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you.

“Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“That doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains, if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?” His aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap.

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a fallen comrade on the battlefield. Although you don't complain. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “I think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I– ” the other ear releases, “– just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? Who just gets dizzy, are you a fucking Victorian child? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today! He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key still in it and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you can hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground behind the corner of the kitchen wall.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping glass soda bottles and soft melon bread alike from his arms, as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to begin the checks for a vertebral injury. But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally scrolls through every single one as you try to form a sentence.

“you shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again now for the next fifty years unprompted.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“‘got hungry,” you admit openly because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a goddamned thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant, sneaky– that it’s obvious, they way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

Is he supposed to be able to focus on paperwork with you trying to catch your breath in a hallway when you think no one’s around? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, you haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” You sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear to get to you.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you...Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

#i think i probably need firefighter kirishima inside of me #shinsou wanting to fuck his pretty boss now has a gravitational pull that teeters on allconsuming #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha drabble #mha drabble #does anyone spell it #shinso x reader #?#that feels psychotic

3K notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 8 months

Text

the kind of charm we need

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt ‘charm’ + 548 words | rated T | pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, boys being dumb

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

“‘Not the kind of charm we need,’” Steve mutters derisively to himself for the tenth time that day as they pull up to the cemetery curb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin sighs, “your time and talents are sooo wasted on us, Steve, we get it.”

Max glares at him from the rearview like she agrees with Dustin, then shoves out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind her without a word.

Shit.

Steve watches her climb the hill, guilt rolling through his guts. Fuckin’ Nancy. There are bigger problems here.

Like, for example, the metalhead fugitive having a nervous breakdown in a boathouse.

“Oh, my god,” Lucas says from the backseat as the walkie crackles to life, Eddie’s quivering voice calling out for ‘Dustin? Anybody? Hello??’

He passes the walkie up to the front with a look like he’s debating whether or not to just smash the thing to pieces on the asphalt instead. “Can you maybe use your charm on Eddie before I murder him?”

“He’s in distress!” Dustin cries.

“He’s on my last nerve!”

“Seriously, anybody?? Please!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, give me that.” Steve yanks the walkie out of Lucas’ hand, hauls himself out of the car — leans in to tell the two shitheads to stay put and shut up before he closes the door.

He leans against the driver’s side, head throbbing, body sore. Can’t tell if he’s too young or too old for this shit. He pushes the talk button with a begrudgingly slow press.

“Steve Harrington’s babysitting and distraction service, how may I help you? Over.”

“Stevie!” Eddie whoops, sounding genuinely thrilled to hear Steve’s voice. Steve knows he’s just excited to hear anyone’s voice, but. Hm. “Goddamn am I glad to- wait, where’s Henderson? Sinclair? Are they—?”

“They’re fine,” Steve assures before the creep of hysteria he hears can fully take hold. He kicks his heel against the front tire. “They’re waiting in the car. I’ve been instructed to, like, charm you into calming down, or whatever.”

“Charm me?” Eddie’s voice lilts with interest. Steve can almost see the smile, the way he licks across his front teeth.

“Just a— well, not a joke, but, like…” Steve trails off, gives up trying to explain. Nance has this way of making comments that cling like cactus spines. “Never mind.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “Go on. I’m ready to be charmed.”

And maybe it’s the way Eddie says charmed like a snake scenting the air, or maybe it’s the stress of the day; maybe he’s finally having his own little mental breakdown as a treat, because for some insane reason he leans into whatever this is, pitches his voice all low and slippery and asks, “What are you wearing?”

Silence for a moment, and then Eddie cackles, the noise so loud it overwhelms the little speaker in the walkie, bursts of laughter breaking through the static noise. Steve finds himself laughing, too, a slow thing that builds and builds, swells inside him like blown glass until he’s warm and bright all over.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes when he finally calms. “You’re— you’re ridiculous. Shit, man, I really needed that, you have no idea.”

Steve smiles to himself. Bites the inside of his cheek. Not the kind of charm we need.

No, but someone might.

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

note: i am aware that this is canon adjacent (which is to say that i meant for it to take place in canon but i didn’t feel like rewatching the scene for total accuracy so like, canon can bite me it’s close enough)

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie fluff #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair

780 notes · View notes

pandorxxx · 9 months

Text

Trading places

Lo’ak x omatikayan fem reader

Warnings: p in v, cursing,multiple creampies, orgasms, praise kink, dom-reader, whimpering/frustrated/crying lo’ak.

🔞mdni🔞

“Shiiiiit.” Lo’ak whimpered, his tied hands pressing against your stomach to slow you down. You had been riding him for the past hour, milking him dry of everything. Ropes of his own seed dripping down his balls with every bounce of your hips. Sticky pelvises colliding rapidly.

“You can take it, right? Isn’t that what you make do?” You moaned, holding onto his clammy shoulders as his head fell back on the couch. He shook his head lazily, tears streaming down his flushed face.

“I-Im so sorry, baby. I’m sorry, but I-I can’t do this. Please.” He spoke breathily, voice rippling with each hard bounce to his lap. His eyes met yours, he was practically pleading from the gaze he gave you, but all you did was kiss his forehead.

“No, baby. I want you to cum for me.” You teased, rolling your hips into his. He gasped, glancing down at the source of pleasure.

“Ohhh come o-nnnn. I came s-seven times already- ngh!- please. I don’t t-treat you like this. It’s t-oooo much.” He growled in frustration, his teeth chattering from the overstimulation.

“One more time, big boy. You can do it. You’re doing so good for me.” you moaned, purposely clenching around him. He groaned in restraint, his jaw clenching as his head went back again. He wanted nothing more than to rip out of those restraints.

You continued bouncing on him relentlessly. Loud clapping sounds filling the room. Lo’ak was usually the dominant one, and the switch in roles had him frustrated, on top of the unbearable pleasure you were sending him. He began to weep under you. Tears blurring his vision. He tried to push on your stomach again, just to hault your movements.

“Goddamn Y/n, please. Why are y-ouuu fucking me like this? I-I can’t feel my legs baby, pleaseee!” He cried, trying to wiggle out of the restraints, but it was no use.

“Because I WANT to.” You hissed, bouncing on him slow and hard, making his head spin. His mouth flew opened, silent whimpers escaping as his eyes rolled back.

“Yeahhh, baby. You like that? Hmm?” You teased, kissing his bottom lip. He nodded lazily, his body starting to spazz under yours.

“I-I can’t. Fuuuck, I can’t.” He mumbled, his head sinking into his chest as he fluttered in and out of consciousness. You let out a little chuckle, smacking his cheek gently.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done. Just wake up for me.” You reassured, rolling your hips into his. “Ah-a-ha! O-Ok.” He whimpered, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“Y/n. I-Im gonna cum. I-I’m cumming.” He moaned, lip quivering as his eyes rolled in pleasure. He let out a loud groan before shooting his eighth load of the night, directly into your womb.

“Ohhh yes, lo’ak. I can feel it….so fucking much of it.” You spoke sensually against his quivering lips. Your sweet words making him let out a loud moan as he filled you up to the brim.

“Keep filling me up, lo’ak. Juuuust like that. Pump me FULL, ok?” You moaned in his ear, licking it seductively to tease him.

“Fuuuuuck.” He spoke in an exhausted tone, head finding refuge on the couch again. You sped up the pace, moaning loudly as you chased your orgasm.

“P-please. It’s s-ooo sensitive, y/n.” He whimpered, shaking with every bounce. God, you loved the way he begged.

“2 more minutes. I-I’m almost there! Fuuuck lo’ak.” You whimpered, speeding up your pace. In turn, making lo’aks head spin.

“Ohhh, oh fuck. Ohhhh fuck!” He moaned, trying to get out of those restraints now more than ever. It was the moment when you started to roll your hips, nice and hard. He lost all thought. Beginning to pass out completely with a few sharp whimpers before he closed his eyes.

“YES! SO CLOSE LO’AK!” You screamed, eyes closed as your body began to shake from the on coming orgasm. He let out a small groan in response, still fluttering in and out of consciousness.

“Mmm cumming!” You announced, bouncing your way through your intense orgasm with a Loud moan. You finally slowed down before stopping completely. Catching your breath before looking down at you lifeless boyfriend with a loud gasp.

“Oh God. Lo’ak?” You asked, untying the restraints gently, only for his hands to fall In his lap. He groaned in agony underneath you, grabbing your hips softly.

“I-I’ve gotta.” Lo’ak panted, trying to lazily lift you off of him, with little to no success. “You’ve gotta what, baby?” You asked, caressing the sides of his heavy head.

“Gotta—uhh. C-Clean you up.” He muttered, trying to sit up, only to fail miserably with a loud sigh.

“What did you do to me?” He joked, looking into the sky in defeat. You chuckled, lifting your hips up slowly. He came out with a pop, his seed spilling out of you like a waterfall.

“Ohhh shit.” He groaned, finding enough strength to watch the scene underneath him. “How about i clean up this time, hmm?” You asked, pecking his quivering lips. He rolled his eyes, frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t tend to you how he always does.

“Fine. But this is the LAST time you’ll be in control. You’re too much for me.” He chuckled, rubbing circles into your hips.

“Yes, lo’ak.” You nodded, standing up slowly to tend to your exhausted boyfriend. Maybe you should do this more often?

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak smut #loak fic #atwow loak #loak imagine #loak fanfiction #loak sully #loak #loak x you #l

802 notes · View notes

crybaby-bkg · 6 months

Text

new dad Bakugou who’s going back to work full time almost a full year after his daughter his born and he now has to grapple with the fact that….goddamn, he’s spoiled the shit outta her.

well, he doesn’t think it was spoiling her. in actuality, he just created a routine with her, gave her every bit of his attention, held her when she cried, scolded her (yes just at eight months) whenever she’d babble for more puffs even though she’s had enough already. it wasn’t spoiling, it wasn’t. he vowed to never be that dad, to raise a snot nosed brat, one similar to himself.

but here he is, on a Tuesday morning three weeks after her first birthday. he’s standing halfway between the front door and the living room in full uniform, with his still sleepy baby and her even sleepier mama. she’s gripping his neck like he promised to abandon her, wailing and crying so loud and dramatically, that you can’t help but chuckle at her antics and how he wavers ever so slightly.

“You promised you’d go back to work,” you scold him gently, rubbing at your daughters quivering back when she whines again the moment he acts like he’s gonna pull her off. Bakugou frowns at you, and you shrug, smoothing her unruly blond curls away from her sticky forehead.

“But you guys need me.” He pouts, eyebrows downturned as he pulls her away enough to wipe at her wet face. she blubbers again, whimpering out a small dadaaaa noooo, that absolutely breaks his heart.

“And so does the world.” You smile at him, gently pulling your daughter away from the matching glassy red eyes who watch her go. “We’ll be fine, my love. Promise.”

Bakugou looks unconvinced, especially since your daughter reaches for him with another cry of his name. you don’t say anything when he sniffles discreetly, quickly reaching down to the coffee table to snatch up his utility belt that he dropped when she waddled out of her room in tears. he snaps it on wordlessly, and you go to turn to the kitchen when he wraps you both up in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispers against your forehead before pecking it, leaning down to kiss your lips next, and then your daughter’s fat little cheeks. He whispers another love you to her, and wipes away at her rosy cheeks when she pouts at him.

“Rub you.” your daughter pouts, the both of you freezing in shock.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, grinning. “She said I love you back!” Bakugou matches your grin, laughing under his breath as he presses another torrent of kisses all of her face. for the first time since she’s opened her eyes today, she laughs, loud and joyous and familiar. he thinks that maybe going back in today won’t be so bad after all. not if this is what he’ll be coming home to.

#I have been tormented with dad bkg thoughts again I fear #he’s too loveable for his own good #but also the thought of bkg becoming a dad and vowing he’d be this certain way #but then his kid comes out and he’s like. yes. values. parenting skills. life lessons. discipline and love.#and then all of it goes out the window when they just look at him #and they look so much like him and they’re just so cute and annoying and. now he’s brought them everything they’ve ever wanted LOL #also I love toddlers who speak like non conventionally/stereotypically #like my youngest niece turns all of her consonants to ‘h’ for 2 syllable words #and it’s so funny bc everything sounds like ‘huh hah huhh’#but she’s also VERY clear when she wants to be lol she just gets excited sometimes and forgets to enunciate #okay rambling sorry but I love babies LOL #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬#dad bkg

554 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 1 month

Text

It’s that time of year again. The Australian football season is in full swing so it’s my designated time to write. But PLOT TWIST! I have found myself, ahem… enjoying watching the sportsballmen sporting. Please keep me in your thoughts during this difficult time (or maybe read this projection onto Eddie).

-🏈🏈🏈-

“But, what about the foo-”

Eddie claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from finishing that sentence. Something he should have never uttered in the first place. A statement that goes against the Munson Doctrine – and everything he ever uttered in gym class.

But it’s too late because Steve has frozen in place, one hand on his car keys still dangling by the hook near the front door, his other hand fisted into his Member’s Only jacket.

Eddie stills, his shoulders tensing up as he watches Steve slowly turn around, leaving his keys hanging and his jacket a-dangling off one arm.

Steve quirks a brow.

“Huh?” he says, feigning confusion as a sly smile tugs at the corner of his pretty mouth.

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. His boyfriend is really going to torture him over this, isn’t he?

“Nothing,” he shrugs and rocks back on his heels.

“I said…” Steve begins as he takes a step forward, “We should go grab dinner…”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, folding his arms now as Steve moves closer – a protective shield that is completely useless when confronted with the flashiest of shit-eating grins.

“But then you said…”

Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly and adds a winding hand gesture that Eddie supposes is meant to get him to admit to the thing he just mighta-sorta said, but not technically finished saying…

“I didn’t say anything,” he blatantly lies, shaking his head so much that he can feel his hair swishing about.

“It sounded like…” Steve teases as his big, strong and utterly irresistible hands come to rest on his shoulders, “You wanted to stay home and watch football.”

He quickly follows up with a gasp and bites his bottom lip just to be an even bigger nightmare and goddamn it! he looks so cute and Eddie wants to see him do that at least three more times as soon as possible.

Eddie sighs. He can feel his lip quivering as Steve looks him up and down, blushing like he has just been let in on the world’s biggest secret.

Something Eddie didn’t know himself until like, two minutes ago.

He scrunches his nose.

“Stevie,” he warns.

Steve holds up his pinky finger.

“Won’t tell a soul,” he giggles, wiggling that stupid, not-so-little finger in total knowing condescension.

Eddie captures the digit in his hand and presses a kiss to the tip of it.

“Let’s…” he spits, holding on for dear life.

“Watch the game?” Steve beams, all giddy and proud.

#sportsball eddie 🏈#just gonna make this a tag in case i write more of this kinda thing as I work through these new feelings lmao #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson headcanons

286 notes · View notes

cosmicmunsonwrites · 6 months

Note

for dad!jj— jj and the reader are in an argument and little maybank hears her parents yelling at each other saying hurtful things and she gets scared? yk yesterday she watched her parents with loving eyes as they laughed together, kissed, tucked her in bed, etc.. and now they’re acting as if they hate each other.

train wreck

pairing(s): dad!jj x mom!reader

warnings: yelling, hurtful words, teen parents

summary: while you and jj are in a heated argument, your daughter unfortunately catches a glimpse of it.

authors note: thank you for the request baby! enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“yeah? well maybe if you weren’t running away every other goddamn day, i wouldn’t need to ask my parents for help!” you shouted at him.

“i have shit to do!” he shouted back. “don’t you dare make it seem like i don’t fuckin’ care for you or our daughter.”

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “if you care so much, why are you never here?!”

“jesus christ, did you not listen to a single word i just said? i. have shit. to do!” he screamed, slamming his hand down on the table.

you knew he’d never hit you. he’d never even think about hurting you. yet the action was enough to make you jump. and that was when the both of you heard it.

the small whimper that you two had become so familiar with.

your heads immediately turned to the doorway where your toddler stood frozen, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes glossy as if she was about to cry. all the noise must’ve woken her from her nap with her messy hair and disheveled pjs. “what’s going on?” she asked, voice trembling.

you just wanted to cry knowing that your daughter had seen the monster inside the two of you. you quickly dropped any ounce of anger and frustration and rushed over to her. “hi baby,” you said softly, picking her up from under her arms. “we’re just talking.” you carried her out of the kitchen where the fight took place and into her room. “sometimes, me and daddy don’t always like the same things. we just have to talk about it to make it better.”

“are you okay, mommy?” she asked softly.

you nodded with a smile and brushed some of the short hair from her face. “i’m okay honey.”

“is daddy okay?” she questioned.

“mhm,” you said. “we’re okay. we just had a little disagreement.”

she leaned into your chest and wrapped her arms around your neck. “you guys were happy yesterday.”

you kissed her cheek softly and sat down on the bed with her. “i know. we’re gonna be okay. i promise.”

she crawled out of your hold and under her sheets with a big cheesy grin on her face. “go talk to daddy. i don’t like when you guys are sad.”

you chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “okay baby. you ready to go back to bed then?”

she nodded quickly. “night mommy. i love you.”

“i love you too,” you said, tucking her in and shutting her lamp off.

you headed out into the kitchen, rubbing your temples and groaning. “is she okay?” jj asked, standing up from his seat as soon as you entered the room.

“shes fine,” you replied tiredly. you hated fighting with him. it was hurtful and mentally exhausting.

he headed towards you, pulling your hands from your face and wrapping his arms around your waist. “i’m sorry, my love. i don’t wanna put anymore stress on you and i swear to be better. i just get overwhelmed with the whole having a kid at 19, you know? i’m sure you do too and its unfair of me to just leave all the responsibility on you whenever i feel like it. and i’m really, really sorry for yelling at you like that.” he apologized, his pretty blue eyes gazing into yours. “i just want to be here for you, sweetheart. for you and our daughter.”

you leaned into his firm chest, wrapping your arms around him and taking a deep breath. “it’s okay, j. i get it. but at the same time, this really has to stop.”

“and it will. i promise you it will,” he said, leaning back slightly and using his hand to tilt up your chin toward him. “i’m going to be here for the both of you until the end of time. i’m done running. you two are my entire world.”

you smiled tiredly and stood up on your toes to kiss his soft lips. “i love you jj.”

“i love you more, angel.”

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#gracies asks and requests 💌#jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x you #obx #jj #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks

429 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 6 months

Note

How much Joel react if Sweet Pea snapped at him, even just a little bit?

Like she has her period now, or maybe just its super hot or some shit or no sleep or something.

Would Joel feel bad that his sweet, well-trained girl was lashing out? or would he snap right back?

Couldn't sleep. raider master

850 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

WARNINGS: angst, light manhandling, dark fluff, spanking, choking adjacent moment, grinding, reference to FEDRA assault.

A/N: analysis here. calling it a hypothetical bc it doesn't fit neatly btwn hunger and the next part.

He grabs you by the arm and you won't look at him, so he grips your jaw and turns your head. His brow furrows as he searches your face. You still don't want to meet his eyes. ”What the hell’s wrong with you today?” he bites. You don't answer. “Hmm?” He prods, tightening the massive hand on your arm with a jolt.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your eyes are welling up. He stares at your quivering lips, then your eyes as he awaits your answer. You finally look at him. “Sorry. I couldn't sleep. I'm tired.”

He lets go of your jaw and you start to pull away but his grip on your arm tightens and he asks, “That all?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle.

His jaw clenches then moves back and forth. His eyes are pensive, concerned. “‘Member what I said after ya ran?”

You nod. “that you only want me if I'm good?” A tear runs down your cheek.

His face softens and so does his voice. “I only want ya if you're–” he sighs and cups your cheek. “No, sweet pea. That ya gotta talk to me when somethin's botherin’ ya.”

You look down and away, then nod. He lets go of your arm and sits down on the bed.

“You're a good girl, sweet pea. c’mere.” He pulls you down onto his lap. He strokes the nape of your neck with his thumb. “That day ya ran. . .” He brushes a tear off your cheek. “That was real bad.” It's true. It was bad. FEDRA had you on your knees, made you play Russian roulette, stripped you. "I didn't. . ." He searches for words and doesn't find them. He looks at you with his brows knitted. “we’re past that, ain't we?”

You nod earnestly. “It was stupid. I wouldn't–it was a long time ago. I'd never-”

“'S’what I thought,” he nods. “You're my good girl, sweet pea.” He kisses you on the temple.

“You're not gonna spank me?” You look at him with wide eyes.

His nose twitches. “That what ya want?” He pulls you further into his lap and when you feel he’s hard you get a rush of arousal. He sighs, and with a smooth rotation of his body, he pushes you down on the bed face up. He pins you to it with his hips, arousal digging into your front. He wraps his hand around your throat, not too hard, but the serious look he gives you says youre not off the hook. “What ain't ya sayin'?”

You stammer, unsure what he means. You hazard a guess, “please?” Your hips lift into him.

He smirks, then it fades as he closes his eyes for a second. “No. why couldn't ya sleep?”

“I–” you sigh. “I was worried about the dog.”

He breathes out a laugh, then with his hands under your arms, he pulls you up further onto the bed so your legs aren't dangling. He sits back on his heels, straddling you with his knees. You eye the bulge in his pants. He asks, “That's it?”

“It's too cold at night,” you whine. “And what if he runs away. I can't believe all that time he was. . .” you start sniffling again.

Joel pauses, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “Alright,” he nods. “we’ll make him some place warmer. god damn.”

“Really?”

He shrugs, then leans forward and plants his forearm on the bed. He hovers over you, then puts some weight on you again, his cock harder now, making you gush as he presses it against just the right spot. “Yeah, really."

“Thank you,” you whisper. “He's still skinny.”

“Hell, make'm a goddamn vest if ya want,” Joel murmurs, searching your face affectionately.

You laugh, which makes his eyes come to life with warmth. He asks, “okay?” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “see, all ya gotta do is talk to me, sweet pea.”

You nod, then start to explain. “didnt wanna wake you up. n’ sometimes you're. . .I dunno, kinda. . .mean,” your voice trails off as you wonder if you've gone too far and second guess whether you even feel that way.

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “I'm kinda mean? Hmm” his lower lip juts out in contemplation.

“No. Well. I mean. . .”

He pushes himself up to hover over you as he forcibly turns you over face down. Then his hips press his hard bulge into your ass, and he brings his mouth to your ear. “f’i didn't know any better,” he murmurs, then lifts his hips again for clearance. “I'd think ya were into it.” He pulls up your dress and smacks your ass. You grunt and your mouth falls open with the sting of his hand, making you twitch with need. “Maybe,” you mumble into the pillow.

You sigh and push your ass up, seeking contact. You look back and he shakes his head in playful disapproval as he unbuttons his pants.

----

ty for reading.

So the answer is both - I think he'd snap back, but underneath that he'd be concerned that it's out of character for her. His concern or hurt often presents as anger or frustration at first and he's getting more emotionally intelligent to where he might realize it sometimes.

#raider!ask #joel miller x reader #raider!joel #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #toxicanonymity ☠️

477 notes · View notes

willyoubemycherryy · 23 days

Text

❦𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐!! _𝙱𝚎𝚝-. . 𝚢𝚘-𝚞_ 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍-__𝚞𝚜?-. 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕-_𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?.-. 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢-//?!

𝐼𝑡’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤😂💕𝑇𝑜𝑝 𝐵𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @eymie @b1mb0slvt @luvlydeja @taylormarieee @missusnora @eleanorbaybars

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜❥ 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚝, 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗-𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘, 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎̨𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝, 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔, 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗

“𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅...“

࣪✧. 🜸°. ໒꒱✧. • 𐙚˙⋆.˚.

Don’t let men with recovering orbital fractures finger you in their bed while hospitalized.

If that was ever a rule, spoken or unspoken, boy would they be pissed at you now.

“Wider, bunny. You wanna help me get better right?” Bucky cooed into your ear from where his chest was plastered to your back.

Choking down your moan almost guiltily because you really did want him to feel better, it was one of the things you told him when you’d first seen him after he had finally got back from that awful camp. You had gotten a call (the quickest one of your life) that they had taken him to the hospital immediately, to check the extent of all possible injuries, watch for any possibly contracted diseases, etc.

It was day 3 of him being in there but he’d been misbehaving restless since you’d arrived.

You shouldn’t be too cross with him because he couldn’t help it.

John missed you so much that when he finally got back on familiar ground, what ran through his thoughts was mostly you and then just 2 hours later, you were there. Filling his senses with your sweet scent, filling his hands with the softness of your curves as your lovely voice filled his head. Christ, how he missed you. All of you.

However, his body’s reaction to you after being depraved of you for so long was…intense. To say the least.

While you were worried after his health and overjoyed at having him back, Bucky was on you like a dog on water.

So naturally the second the doctors deemed him well enough to only check up on him every couple hours instead of every 30 minutes, he wasted no time sweet-talking you from your chair into his bed where he currently had 3 of his stupidly thick fingers pumping knuckle deep inside your drenched pussy.

The noise outside reminded you that this was a busy hospital making your arousal spike on edge, the chances of someone opening the door and seeing you with your heaving tits out, pretty dress around your waist, as Bucky made you cry out while your fluttering cunt gaped around his fingers…

“Hnnnggh…I-I’m trying! Y’ hand's just t-too big“, you whine, eyes watering when he thrusts upwards right into the spot that makes your twitching walls gush slick.

“Now now, that’s not it Bunny- this cunt’s just too goddamn small..“ Bucky rasps into your ear, a shiver wracks up your spine.

The only response you could get out was a whine that cut into a watery gasp when he bought his other hand to play with your swollen clit, swirling the wet pulsing nub in firm circles, biting his lip at the gorgeous display you made.

Your ears were beginning to ring with the effort of staying quiet, eyes watering in pleasure and embarrassment when you caught through the haze, just how loud your cunt sounded being thoroughly fucked by John’s big fingers.

The slick in and out of has your eyes mindlessly rolling back, body quivering from how good it feels as you get closer, your pussy practically sucking his fingers in as your walls tighten like a slick fist. John groans in your ear as he looks down, seeing how gone you are with your stretched cunt creaming all over his hand.

“Shhh, so good for me bunny….just like that. Makin’ me feel so much better already.” He whispers in your ear, licking across your jaw before dragging his fingers almost all the way out before sinking them back into your sopping pussy, jaw dropping open in a silent scream with his fat middle finger crooked as he nails your g spot.

Your muscles spasm violently and the original goal of keeping it down, gets further and further in the shadow of your impending orgasm plus Bucky wasn’t helping at all with the pure filth coming out of his mouth. He’d always been a dirty talker, quick witted risqué lines that made you blush even back when he’d first been pursuing you….but this?

“C’mon baby, listen to that..my girls sound so sweet gettin’ a good fucking hm?”

“God I missed you, you’re almost too tight now. Can’t wait til we get home so I can properly break her in.”

“Mhmm bet you feel real good yeah? Yeahhhh you are. Drippin’ everywhere my slutty little bunny.” He hissed into your ear.

Oh dear god.

The moment your hiccuping whines bubbled to desperate moans in your throat, John slapped the hand that had been on your clit over your mouth, muffling your wails as white hot pleasure took you over the edge.

Shudders wrack your body while you cum, clit throbbing in time with your spasming walls while the lack of oxygen and your muffled moans add to the intensity of your orgasm. John’s hand slows a bit as he fucks you through it, almost putting your overstimulated self in a coma, kissing the tear trail down the side of your eyes; cock harder than ever as he waits for you to come down.

“Oooh. That was a good one, wasn’t it baby?”

Hand still over your mouth as you drop your head down in a wrecked “yes”. John hums as he manhandles your limp body around to face him, laying you on his chest and smoothing your dress down right as the door begins to open, uttering one last soaking promise into your ear…

“If you think you felt something now, just wait until we get home…gonna feel how much I missed you when I’m wearing that pussy out.”

godblessamerica???

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #masters of the air #mota #fluff #asks #answered💛🎀#x reader #smut #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #callum turner smut #john egan #john bucky egan

190 notes · View notes

tired-biscuit · 2 years

Text

fem!reader/aged up!izuku. 18+ mdni.

Currently thinking about boyfriend!Izuku, who is so into eating you out that he's literally pushing you towards the brink of overstimulation every single time he goes down on you.

He just can't help it. After all, Izuku is a pleaser - an especially eager one. Unlike other men, he is greedy for your pleasure instead of his own, and he's figured that out about himself the moment you've spread your legs for him for the first time ever and allowed for his head to become hugged by your plush thighs in the mere beginning of your relationship. So ever since then, he's become somewhat addicted to giving you oral.

That means that tasting you on his tongue is like a reward of sorts whenever he comes home after a particularly troublesome patrol and finds himself in need of a pick-me-up of the lewdest kind. Your gasps and needy whines are a blessing. Feeling your legs shake and quiver as they scrape the rough stubble on his round, freckled cheeks - that he rarely has time to shave lately, because you insist on cuddling with him for 'just a lil' while longer, 'Zuku' on mornings he has to wake up early for work - is considered a literal gift.

But what makes him turn batshit crazy; what makes that big, fat cock of his twitch and his mouth salivate to the point where he's drooling like a feral animal, is how your voice changes whenever he eats you out.

It's just something about how the tone of it trembles whenever he drags the tip of his tongue along your drenched slit that turns so adorably gooey and sticky with the mixture of your arousal and his spit. He does those tiny, precise circles that he knows drive you crazy. The ones that make you groan out his name like it were a chant, until you're whispering it so feverishly and with such intense fervour, that it makes him wonder if the letters will start to burn holes into the ceiling of his goddamn bedroom if you don't stop yourself anytime soon.

And oh, god, the way your heavy breathing fills the empty gaps between the filthy curses you keep voicing nearly makes him cum in his pants right then and there. The moans that he draws out of your heaving chest with every laggard swipe of tongue are so soft that he has to strain his ears to hear them, but whenever he does hear them, he swears that he can feel the entirety of his senses heighten.

It's all the more satisfying when those timid, almost kittenish moans begin to grow louder, after all.

Because when he sucks your already throbbing and borderline painfully sensitive clit into his mouth, and pushes his thick fingers into your fluttering hole; forcing you to orgasm yet again - you squeal. All hot and so, so bothered, you're crying his name out in this high-pitched sort of whine that turns him brain-dead as he strokes your velvety walls. Especially when your fingers find purchase in his curls and just tug.

And then you're trying to close your legs, to push him out and away so that you can climb into his lap and ride him until he'd be the one to become overwhelmed in the same manner you are in that exact instant, but he's stronger and he doesn't want you to do that, so he uses that strength against you, despite being so sugary and nice on the regular.

His palm is broad and warm as it wraps around your inner-thigh. He keeps your legs spread wide apart; soft mouth still attached firmly to your overstimulated cunt during the entire ordeal of keeping you still. Your shy, albeit lovely boyfriend is rarely dominant, but the clench his calloused digits give to your soft flesh now is his firm way of showing that peculiar side of him.

And sure enough: when you look down at him, his eyes are so fucking dark. The irises are nearly foggy like a gloomy forest that still sleeps in the cold morning as he looks up at you underneath his thick lashes and just keeps on going. Keeps on fucking you with his mouth and clumsy digits that turn expert only at this sort of thing.

He's sucking the literal life out of you right through that adorable button of nerves you possess. Hell, you can see his scar-riddled bicep flex as he puts even more vigour into the movement. As he keeps torturing you in the sweetest way possible, and making you love the ache throughout it all.

His hair is all askew and his face is completely red from all the effort - almost mischievous in a way. The way the corners of his lips twitch into a smirk by the time you scream and gush right into his mouth when you cum makes your heart beat so fucking fast that it hurts whilst it rattles inside your ribcage. Your toes curl against his broad back as he licks you entirely clean. As he laps up every last drop like they're sacred.

Because to him, they might as well be.

#izuku smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya #deku smut #mha smut #midoriya smut #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader

5K notes · View notes

pedge-page · 2 months

Note

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him.

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead:

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear.

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name.

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily.

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan.

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance.

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton.

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more.

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not.

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back.

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss.

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished.

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you.

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm.

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper:

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

268 notes · View notes