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prettyboykatsuki · 1 month

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✮ tags ; fingering, gn + afab!reader, pro-hero katsuki, dirty talk from both parties, semi-public sex (they're in a dressing room), finger-sucking, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k

✮ a/n ; it feels like i just got hit over the head with a fucking mallet. i swear im still on hiatus. its seven in the morning. im going to go crazy. the literal spike of adrenaline i got looking at him.

"No way," He snorts, his voice clipped—cocky against the shell of your ear as his hands sneaks against your waist. "This is what gets you?"

A reflexive part of you doesn't want to give Katsuki the satisfaction of a yes. You know how he is. You'd go as far as saying you like it - almost as much as you like him when he's not acting like the center of the universe. But it's undeniable that part of what draws you to Katsuki is the very thing that causing you strife now.

He's complicated. Underlined all that dripping egoism is a real sense of uncertainty - and that part of him is sexy too. The awkward, lovesick gentle man he can be when he wants.

But. But.

Other times, it's his magnetism. Such raw, enigmatic confidence built on experience. Prowess. No amount of complicated can erase or overshadow just how much Katsuki is a pure fire. You normally get boyfriend Katsuki, and he's catty and affectionate with nothing to prove. Soggy and loveable and approachable.

You forget, often, what he can be like when the cameras flash. What the public likes of him. Which is raw sex appeal and sultry eyes and a wicked little grin, wolfish and wanting.

You're not ashamed to admit seeing that turns you on. And it's only worsened to see him bask in it - getting off on the sudden attention

(Your attention, specifically - considering he had been all but indifferent to the awing of studio, only minutes prior.)

"Yeah, it is," You groan, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Your body shudders responsively to his touch.

There's something rushed about the whole ordeal. Your back is pressed up against the mirror in his dressing room - legs spread with your pants barely unbuttoned. Katsuki is no better, borrowed pants snug on thick, muscular thighs. He laughs a little breathlessly. No less affected than you if the tent in his pants is any measure.

"Aw, what?" He presses, his lips pulled. All canines as he rests his palm over your waistband and doesn't move an inch. "Seeing me in front of all those cameras turn you on?"

You pull away to stare at him and he's grinning. Unusual playfulness steeped and soaked between layers of lust. Your hand reaches for his length, hand cupped around as you grip. He closes his eyes, swears under his breath.

"You look good," You tell him, and you mean it - much more than you've meant anything in the last twenty minutes. He's taken aback by the candor despite asking for it. "You looked so fucking good."

His eyes go lidded as he presses his mouth to yours. He stops teasing, breaching past your pants into your underwear. Your spine curls at the sudden sensation. Brief and unmoving. You can feel how wet you are, feel the way your arousal burns in your core and makes your whole body tight with want.

"You mean that," He says more than asks. His breathing goes shaky and you can feel him pulse in your hands. "Say it. Tell me you want it."

You laugh a little "Want you, Katsuki. Make me feel good, baby."

He groans, once again loosing all composure. You hold onto Katsuki's shoulder as he takes your words like a challenge—the way he takes most things. Everything about the experience is both too much and not enough. You both know it. The energy in the room electric, it's almost harder not to take it all off and fuck him in the middle of his work-day. He has to be back out there in god knows how soon but you can barely keep your legs together without the friction driving you crazy.

He breathes slow trying to maintain his composure- huffs as his fingers press along the folds of your cunt. "You're so wet, fuck," He drops his chin against your shoulder "Never seen you like this"

"You look good when you're all in front of the camera, my love," You huff, an arm around his middle as you draw him close. Your voice is close next to his ear, speaking soft. "A waste you can't fuck me right now,"

There's something like a low growl in his throat when he finally gives you what you. Katsuki knows your body like the back of his hand - every inch of you memorized. Precise, angular movements. He circles your clit a few times before moving down further. You can feel the tight space get tighter, the heel of his hands pressing against your clit as his fingers push past your entrance.

You bite back a moan so broken it's pitiful and he groans with you. He goes slowly at first, tries to ease you into the sensation of his fingers. His are so much thicker and so much longer, noticeable as you feel him stretch your pussy out. He presses the heel of his hand up a little more to give you everything.

"How the hell am I supposed to go out there?" He grits. "Talking to me like that like I'm not about to go back out there."

"I'll let you fuck me as much as you want as a sorry, I promise."

He scoffs at you, makes a point of it as both of his fingers slide into you. He always starts with his middle - feels around for the sweet spot until you're gripping at him harder. After he finds it, he adds his ring finger. He stiffens when you moan, his own arousal starting to show in his face. Red eyes all clouded with desire so deep it could drown.

A honeyed feeling blooms in your core. Burns hot like sugar as you spread your legs to give him more room to you. Your body is so hot, so molten - you give up on everything else. On thinking, on breathing, on keeping quiet. You slump into the mirror behind you as he sets a motion. His fingers curl towards him over and over, rubbing and pushing and grinding against your pulsing core. Against your g-spot, throbbing insides trembling with each gesture.

Your voice breaks out. A deep, needy moan punched from your lungs. He stares at you before ducking into your space. His teeth scrape against the skin near your jaw, kissing and biting and licking. He pays attention to the sweet spot underneath your ear.

"Look at you," He says, like he's gloating. You think he is. If you weren't so aroused you might be able to pay it some mind. "Gonna cum on my fucking fingers, huh?"

"Fuck, Katsuki. Fuck me, fuck."

"I'll make good on that promise, damn tease." He says with a laugh. Biting and cocky and egotistical. Unbearably sexy at the worst of times. It's effecting you more than you care to admit, but you don't have the capacity to pull away from him. "Makin' me do this to you in the middle of my work day like some kinda freak."

"Like it doesn't turn you on,"

He laughs, deep and low. "That's the problem, dumbass."

"Kat," You shudder, your back arching - eyes fluttering closed as you grip his arm. You can feel the way his muscle flexes under your nail, digging into your arm. You groan and whine, cunt clenching around his fingers. It's dripping, noisy as he draws the mess out of you. "Gonna cum."

"Make a mess. Show it to me."

The sound of his voice, gravel coarse and low - is what ends up pushing you over the edge you're sure. Your orgasm crashes into so quickly and with so much force. You barely keep yourself from screaming. Your boyfriend kisses you to swallow whatever other noises you make - seemingly eager to do it. He puts his tongue into your mouth, stifling any other remaining noise.

Your body is pulses, pussy fluttering as shocks of euphoric flit through your whole body and leave you in complete and utter wreckage. Katsuki fucks you through it like the overachiever he tends to be, his fingers highlighting the soft sticky noises of your orgasm as you finish.

Your whole body shakes as a result of your lust. Not entirely gone but at least somewhat tamped down. You let your eyes flutter open as Katsuki pulls his hand away.

Before he can wipe his fingers down, you grab his wrist and pull them up to your mouth. He looks at you startled at first before he realizes, a look of pure lust settling on his features. Carmine red eyes stare down at you hard as you lick your cum off of his hand with a tired smile.

"Take more pictures for me to get off on and come fuck me before we go, okay?"

"Fucking evil little brat." He hisses, kissing you. He moans when he tastes you on him. "Don't think about anything but me while I'm gone."

You shake your head, trying to make sense of anything. "Don't think I could."

He laughs good-naturedly, kissing you again. "Damn right,"

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #bnha smut #writing tag #I CANT BELIEVE THIDFHGKJSLDJJGN #what goes on. its 8am

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satoruhour · 8 months

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YES 2 HEAVEN

a/n: continuation of this. ARRRGHHH also i swear i couldve written this better i kinda hate this lol / tagging @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @crysugu @valberry @lov3rbody ✶

wc: 4.1k (got carried away again ! lord help me)

warnings: dad!gojo, fem!reader, he is enamoured with you, dom!gojo, calls you ‘mama’, also like slight daddy kink, sex while pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, implied f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, pet names, spitting, mating press, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

✶ dilf!gojo . . .

. . . who, when you were pregnant, could never get enough of your glow. sure, you’d look tired and worn out half the time but gojo thought you never looked better cradling your belly whilst you took your afternoon nap, or when you’d do some light chores around the house (you won over gojo trying to stop you). not to mention, your breasts were fuller and heavier with milk, soaking through your slip dresses often that he’s had to hide his hard-on more and more.

. . . who, on more than one occasion has had your tits caged within his hand: watching television, in naps, sex, he was unbelievably obsessed with the way the fabric around your nipples would leak and darken in colour. all he wanted was to knead them as he eats up your delicious moans, sucking hickies into your throat and holding your baby bump with his other hand. and then when satoru first peels the dress off of you, he whimpers, admiring the way your tits lactate and leak milk from its tip.

“s—satoru—” you’re sat sideways on his lap like the sweet girl you are and the first contact of his tongue around your nipple makes you let out a long moan. the sensitivity is all too much for you together with the heaviness of your belly and your hormones spiking and your husband simply smiles into your skin. he slurps at the liquid that drips from your tits, groaning into your breasts and the vibrations makes you clench your thighs together. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he’s got his hand between them, playing lazily with your clit and he presses a little harshly into your bundle of nerves and it draws such a beautiful cry and a spurt of your milk from your nipples right into his mouth. satoru cleans up well, noises similar to when he’d eat you out, “mmh… such perfect tits, mama, leaking so much milk just f’r me.” ✶

. . . whose hands look more rugged than he was young, fingertips a certain roughness to it from the boxes of the furniture of the nursery he’s carried to the training he still partakes in for young sorcerers. but they look especially pretty when he cuts up strawberries and bananas for your pancakes and later on, a teacup that barely makes its appearance in his hand from just how large he was in comparison to your baby girl’s tea set. your eyes also like to trail his hands as they skillfully weave your girl’s hair in a braid, hypnotised in which he uses his teeth to drag the hair tie to his fingers. satoru has a different opinion — he likes to see it on your belly when he wants to feel the baby kick and on your plush thighs when he’s teasing you, so close yet so far to your uncomfortable cunt.

. . . who uses your badly shaven job against you when his lips graze along your still full breasts and down to your torso. you can feel him drag the stubble against your inner thighs and it’s like he’s relishing in the way you squirm and thrash around on the bed, but the gojo below you is the culmination of multiple years of missions and caring for a baby girl. he looks so damn stunning between your legs as he usually does, except his features are more wrinkly and lenient and gentle, white strands turning just a little silver — it may just be the trick of the light.

but the way he eats you out has never changed — he’s already gone past making you beg for it. a hand on your inner thighs, caressing the skin and letting him do his damage, but it’s usually not long that gojo needs to hear you. “i heard you like this?” he laughs as he uses his teeth to pull at your underwear as he lifts your hips like you weigh nothing and his eyes are fixated on the way you’re leaking so much that there’s a string of arousal that connects your panties to your pussy. “’toru . .” you’re whining, grasping at nothing ’cause your belly was just too big. he finds your hand easily and twines your fingers. “yeah, angel?” with your legs propped up, he can appreciate the glory of your soaking pussy, and he thinks your tummy just looks divine, carrying a whole new life within it and still looking beautiful as ever. you preen when his mouth licks a stripe up your cunt and you can practically feel the stubble along your pussy lips. “mmh— was made to eat your pussy out, mama.” it’s no different from before. gojo eats you out with his skillful tongue, lapping at your folds and clit messily. you’re squeezing his hands at the intense sensations and he squeezes right back, other hand slowly drawing circles around your clenching, needy hole.

“look at ‘er,” gojo moans softly in awe as his finger parts your folds and he eases it in, your cunt automatically clamping down. you were right — they did feel rougher, bigger — it’s like you can feel the pads of his fingers and the lines on his digits. “so damn wettt . .” gradually he adds another and starts pumping them, moaning alongside you as your filthy husband nuzzles the bottom of his face into your sex and the prickle of his facial hair is so prominent — you just have to grind your hips onto his face. “careful of the baby, darling.” he lightly warns, fairly muffled, but he lets his little wife continue whatever she’s doing. “’toru, ’toru— needa c-cum . .” you’re whimpering, looking like a greek goddess as you’re dripping, dripping, all over satoru’s chin. “yeah? give it to daddy, baby, c’mon.” he moans into your clit, slurping up your juices mercilessly as his fingers reach so deep in you. “that’s right, that’s my girl— oooh fuckk . . . so much cum for me—” you’re cumming with a loud cry, plump thighs squeezing his head and he only presses his tongue deeper into your core as flood his tongue with your juices. he smacks his lips together and shoots you a smirk, “what a sweet thing my lil wife is — sweetest pussy too.” ✶

. . . who has to fuck you at least once while you’re pregnant, but he hadn’t imagined he would get so addicted to the look of your body rocking back and forth, so limp and pliant for him, especially with how he could easily do anything to you with how strong he was and yet you’re surrending everything up to him. satoru who has you in all sorts of positions where he can look at your supple breasts bounce as you cradle the baby in anxiety with one arm and the other is lining his back in red. and he hadn’t expected you’d be so horny too.

. . . whose dick you just can’t get enough of, pouncing on him once he’s gotten home from missions all sweaty and out of breath and your heart gets caught in your throat. guiding your hand to your little cunt when you wake in the morning to his toned chest and the look of soon-to-be-father looking so good on him. sending him little voice notes as you go on appointments by yourself (gojo hates himself for having a mission clash), but the contrast of your husband’s tear-filled apology before your needy audios is a stark contrast, fingers rubbing at your clit in the hospital toilet, unsatisfied. high-pitched whines whenever his cock would kiss your cervix juuust right and moaning how you want his cum in you, again

your husband throws his head back when he first sinks into you, but not before he slaps his cock along your folds, already soaking the sheets from the four times he’s made you cum. “f—fuck, so warm in here, baby.” gojo presses your hands to his lips and lays multiple kisses along it, even licking at your fingers and keeping his eyes locked on you while plunging them into your mouth. the gesture is sensual, hips rocking into you while his tongue glides over your fingers; he brings it to your clit after, helping you and satoru hopes he wouldn’t cum too early. especially when your hair is all splayed out with that glow along your cheeks. the position accentuate the curves of your body and your swelling stomach, and fuck, if he could paint, the image of your anatomy would be burned into his brain. “s’full, daddy.” he simply caresses your sore belly, “yeah? is it now?” he’s buried all the way to the hilt and the deepness sends a chill up your spine, “takin’ me like the good girl you are.”

“satoru, satoru, mmhhfuck,” your hands are holding into his forearms so tightly as he rocks into you, legs wrapped around his waist to trap him with your pussy and you truly wish your baby bump would be bigger so you didn’t have to look at your husband’s fucked out face and sweaty locks, grunts leaving his mouth as he continues to fuck into you with firm, solid thrusts. “w-what is it, sweeth— s-shit, this pussy’s too fuckin’ good.” you mewl at the words, staring up at him through hooded lids and a lax jaw. “tell me what— fuucck— you want, baby,” your words are beyond comprehensible, so you only can moan louder and babble over and over again, “cum— wan’ your cum, wan’ your cum, ’toru!” and gojo has a full blown aneurysm at the way you beg even when you were already knocked up. gojo’s breath and hips stutter at the way you hold onto his arm and plead, cumming straight into the warmth of your cunt with a loud groan. “don’t know how much i love your cunt, sweets.” ✶

. . . who, once you give birth to your baby girl, has never stopped thirsting over you, but he’s a little more considerate in letting your body rest. most of the time he’s pleasuring you just as you were with your baby bump, always the quickest to stand up and run to the nursery when he’d hear the baby’s cries or pass off him being between your legs as just wrestling as your darling girl gets another terrible nightmare. satoru has put you first, always, but lately the chivalrous acts that he’s been doing is landing you in a position of a dilemma — between decorum of a mother and the filthiness of a wife whose husband is just too hot.

. . . who stands out to you more with his new found love for tight black shirts and low riding sweatpants, always prancing around the penthouse with it glued to his body and accentuates just the best parts of his body. you weren’t sure if it was the post pregnancy hormones doing its job or whatever, but there are many times where you can see yourself staring a little too much: on movie nights when he manspreads and adjust his hips, one hand tucked behind the sofa and you can see the muscles in his arm moving. all gojo asks is “take a picture. it’ll last longer, baby,” and you just roll your eyes, but not before one more glance to his inviting lap. when it’s the morning and you’re already up tending to the baby, bouncing her around and breastfeeding her before your head snaps to the low, raspy greeting and you’re blessed with satoru and his arm up on the doorframe, watching you. he’s yawning and scratching at his torso while the sweatpants ride low, showing a peek of his v-line and happy trail. he’s giving you the sweetest, yet somehow sexiest smile as he saunters up to you, surrounded by his toned body and strong arms.

. . . who knows what he’s doing when he sees your distracted stares to the point your baby girl has to drag your hand full of food to her mouth; or in times of sleepiness in the dawn where all he wears are boxers and he has the gift of hearing your not so quiet gasp when you see him emerge from the bathroom after his morning skincare. what really seals the deal though, is the day you had a reunion with the students of jujutsu high, a nice little picnic out near tokiwa bridge and gojo just had to show his girls off — what was meant to be a wholesome day turned into thoughts of your husband’s physique as he challenges nanami to a “carry-off”, the still stoic sorcerer not even bothering to participate as gojo swoops you both into his arms. your daughter on his right and you on his left, and you’re scrambling to grab his shoulder. it sinks into you like an anchor: just how fit he was, the lines of his tense arm, the cheeky wink he sends to you while you’re up there. you only hope he can’t feel your pussy throb from that.

“you alright, darling?” your baby’s asleep comfortably on your chest, and your eyes can only burn holes into the hand that’s resting on your thigh, swallowing before facing your husband who only seemed to get hotter the more he ages. when you turn to him he’s already looking at you, a lopsided smile on his face before he breaks eye contact and steps on the gas when the traffic light turns green, letting out a loaded exhale when you grab his hand and twine your fingers.

that two person carry has been etched onto your mind long after you’ve reached the penthouse along with everything that’s been going on, but you’re interrupted when satoru squeezes your hand, pulling you into his embrace while keeping your darling girl asleep. he’s skilled at that, as he is with his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can feel your stomach turn with anticipation, tasting his gloss as he whispers “should we order takeout tonight?”

you hum, “i can cook, ’toru.”

his hands feel hot on your waist, “rest today, baby. we did spend a whole day in the hot sun,” they draw circles on your lower back, “plus, we have that event tomorrow, don’t wanna tire you out.”

“the event’s at night you goof,” you laugh, a slow hand stroking your daughter’s hair. stark white and striking as always.

“still.” he grins and winks like there’s some ulterior motive, leaning in to kiss you again before your girl rouses and yawns.

“good morning, my love.” satoru coos as she finds her bearings, looking around in confusion and only being able to focus on her father’s hand on her hair.

“na-na-min?” the awkward plea in her voice would drive gojo to burn the world down, to call nanami right now to meet up again, but he knows all that would only warrant annoyance. he could call yuji, but he did mention something about having dinner with his partner tonight.

gojo feels bad to be breaking her heart like this, “no, darling, ’m sorry.” his heart breaks even more when she breaks into a slight cry and he attempts to quell her sobs by baby-talking her.

“c’mon, why don’t you let papa carry you, and mama can head off to take care of herself, hm?” he suggests with a big grin, mood changing instantly as he plucks her out of your arms, again emphasising his strong arms when they hold her on one side and curl another around you. “go clean up first. i’ll settle dinner for her.”

but the shower seemed to be a bad idea at the time, emerging from the steamy bathroom to see your husband with his shirt off and the baby already all cleaned up and fed. she was swaddled in her most comfortable blanket, the fabric of it peeping out from the side as your eyes focus on the rippling muscles of gojo’s back. he bounces the baby gently as he burps her, muttering little praises and sounds.

“oh, baby—” he catches sight of you in the doorway in a towel and he only smiles, not knowing how you were trying to digest just how broad his shoulders were and how small his waist was. had he always been so fine?

“heard about skin to skin contact with your baby,” he whispers, “says it increases our bond.”

and if you could, you’d drag him back to the chapel all over again to renew your vows, because you didn’t expect him to be such a sap. you also didn’t expect him to read you so well. the baby’s asleep and it’s well past midnight, masking yet another shaky sigh when your body sinks more into his side.

“satoru—”

“yeeess . .?”

you stand up with vigour you didn’t think you have, plopping yourself down onto his lap and all he does is smile slyly. the way his bare body moves as he leans back is enough drive for you to shut him up.

“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“oh? you have a crush on me?”

so infuriating as always. you roll your eyes and grind down on him, igniting such a familiar and archaic feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time: his bulge against you, the soft groan he lets out. he’s always been treating you time and time, and yet he puts his own needs on hold. a perfect husband like him waited only for you to initiate things, and yet you wonder why it took you so long. maybe it was the baby taking up most of your time, maybe it was him being on missions and coming home dead-beat tired.

maybe you knew you’d never turn back if you indulged yourself — pushing out a whole baby wasn’t exactly easy. but you’ve missed him. on you, in you.

“we’re married, you dumbass.”

“still in disbelief, my bad.” gojo laughs, “is there anything you wanna tell me?”

you sigh, pulling him to you so your foreheads would touch. you breathe onto his lips — “please take care of me.”

oh, gojo satoru did take care of you and more, burying his face between your legs and making you cum over and over. he made your voice hoarse and your thighs ache, juices soaking the sheets from just how wet you were.

“oh, you needed this, huh?”

“shut up.” gojo moans when you push him back onto your cunt, already having orgasmed thrice just from his tongue. he was skillful and he knew it, just as much as he knew just how tight you’d be when he smeared your cum all over your pussy and pushed past your folds. satoru whines at the tightness, at having missed your cunt wrapped around him for so long that he can tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“f—fuck . . so fuckin’ good, s’tight . .” you’re not that well off, either, thinking the shower was a waste of water as your sweaty stomach heaved in anticipation while he bottomed out. gojo cries out in a choked moan, “you feel so g—good, mama.”

“w-who’s needing it now?” you breathe out, fingers digging into his shoulders so harshly it hurt. you catch a glimpse of satoru’s smile and a shake of his head — you’d need to be carried tomorrow, for sure.

he pulls out and slams back in so accurately you let out a loud moan, insides turning to mush after so long. the feel of him filling you up is like none other, pussy gripping onto him like a vice. you can’t remember the last time you let him take you.

“so p-perfect for me—” gojo rasps out, looking at you drunkenly. the mother of his child, his wife, it weighs on him and he just thinks he needs to fuck you until you know how much joy you bring to his life. your body rocks as your lover fucks into you, hovering over your body and looking so ethereal. his hair falls into his eyes that you just have to pull him down, crashing your lips against his. the moans he lets out against your face is lovely and you can feel his cock twitch as your legs wrap around his waist.

“‘toru— shiiitt . .” your back arches off of the bed, body caving into satoru like second nature. he lets out babbles against your lips, room filled with the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass, coupled with your weeping pussy, coating his length with all that you can give to him. “so deep—”

“that’s ’cause you’re suckin’ me in, baby—” he laughs breathlessly, cutting off your answer with another kiss, feeling the brush of pelvic bone against your clit. it’s all you need to cum hard, still sensitive after so long and your pussy clenches around gojo’s shaft even tighter; it gets gojo whining into the kiss before he reaches his high too, spilling into you with wide eyes and stuttering hips. you moan at the sensation, eyes pleading your husband for more, more, more.

“forgot how much i loved doing that, f-fuck—” gojo hums as he removes your legs from his waist, pushing you into a deep mating press and you squeal when you feel his cock barely hit your g-spot in this new position, “yeah? ya feel that?”

you nod mindlessly, hands now holding onto his forearms before his hips start moving again and you’re left to whining like a slut. your thighs dig into your chest as gojo folds your body in half, rutting into you messily. there’s so much cum, mixed in filthily as your words only descend into incoherence.

“yes, yes, yes!” are all you can manage as gojo grunts from above you: his stubble, his broad shoulders, his matured face, they all look beautiful in the cold night. he’s so focused on the way your cunt sucks him in, hips stammering when your hand comes into view to rub your clit. “give it all t’me, daddy.”

there’s a small growl that leaves his lips at that, pace reaching an animalistic one as he angles his hips. “open y’mouth.”

satoru is driven crazy when you obey silently, and he has to push deeper into you to reach your mouth, making you falter and pull your brows together — you recover fast enough to catch the spit hanging from his mouth, dribbling slowly into your mouth even when gojo’s hips never stop their assault.

“attagirl,” he praises, smiling softly at the way your pussy twitched at that. he knows you’re close by the look in your eyes, grasping aimlessly at his shoulders.

“gonna let me cum in you again? hm?” gojo’s thrusts are sloppy now, fuelled by the squelch of your drooling cunt, “gonna let daddy put another baby in you?”

you mewl at that, “wan’ that— want all of it—” intoxicated on his cock, they hit the deepest parts of you; you know and love the way his tip hits your sweet spot, you know and love the way the shaved pubes of his pelvis brush up against your clit so well.

“take it then—” gojo grunts, holding your legs up and meets your eyes and the simple call of his name has him shivering. he cums deep, shooting his load so white and hot in you that you’re moaning loudly at the feeling, hand on your clit increasing in pace before your fifth for the night, legs trembling in his grip and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

gojo thinks you’re god. “that’s it— shit, take all of my cum, mama.” you can barely see blue, rather seeing spots of white that fill your vision and you get dizzy and overstimulated, groaning finally when he removes his cock from you. so much cum spills out, pussy pushing it out and satoru bites his lips at the sight.

but you both know you’re far from done when gojo lies on his back, ulterior motive fulfilled when he sees you climb on top of him and drag your pussy along the base of his dick. with you like this, stretch marks and plumpier breasts, you still look as beautiful as you did before the baby, letting you interlock your fingers with his.

your mouth falls open in a soft “satoru” as you sink down onto his still hard, leaking cock and he never wants to look at anyone else ever again, lest he misses even one second of witnessing a goddess like you at work.

gojo cannot resist sitting up to meet you halfway in a soft kiss (“thank you, ’toru. you always take care of me so well.”) and it gives him all the confirmation he needs when your hips first move and the moans and the lewd sounds of your cunt sound more heavenly than all the choirs in the world.

“it’s what you deserve, baby. only the best.”

#I WROTE SM BYE #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader

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xiaowhore · 8 months

Text

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

eddie being the speaker for venom’s adoring rant he eventually goes on at the end of your date when you’re just slowly strolling through a park, taking the long way home just to draw the evening out (but also eddie filtering it because some of the points are VERY INAPPROPRIATE and so venom gets mad and eventually takes over even though you are in public)

This post is 18+, minors dni.

"You're very pretty," Eddie narrates the voice in his head, but he shakes his head and tries again, "Pret-ty. He says- He says it weird, like prit-ty."

"Pretty," You try, voice low and gruff in a poor attempt to match Venom's, "Like that?"

"Spot on," Eddie laughs, and you let your chest shake with giggles as you roam down the sidewalk, "And he says your dress makes him think of blood, which," Eddie grimaces, "I'm sure, in his mind, is a compliment."

"Hm," You hum, glancing down at the red fabric you're draped in, "Yeah, I'll choose to take that kindly."

"And he wants to- woah," Eddie's eyes go wide and his hand tightens around your own momentarily, "Uh, hold your hand."

"What?"

"He wants to hold your hand!" Eddie insists, "And- Jesus, Venom! And tuck you into bed."

"I said fuck!" A voice roars from deep inside of Eddie's chest, and before you know it black ooze is emerging from your boyfriend's skin. You panic, yanking Eddie-turned-Venom into an alleyway between two apartment buildings and praying that no one is watching you.

"I said I wanted to fuck you into the bed," Venom clarifies, towering over you in the dark alley. If you didn't know him, in any other scenario, you'd be fainting from fear. But the hulking alien doesn't bother you now, and you put a hand over his mouth full of sharp teeth to try and get him to quiet down.

"Okay," You soothe, trying to acknowledge him so that he doesn't feel so misinterpreted, "Okay Venom. That's very- uh, nice. But you can't be out right now, you know that. Please just go back inside Eddie?"

"He is lying, I cannot trust him!" Venom huffs, voice not quieted at all, merely muffled by your hand, "I did not say I wanted to hold your hand. I said I wanted you to fuck my tongue!"

"Charming," You spit, face flushed with fire matching the heat in your belly, "Really, Venom, I- I'd like to, but- but we're out now, and I need you to quiet down and go back inside."

"Eddie does not deserve to take you on dates like this. He does not tell you how good you look."

"Yes he does!" You insist, still clamping your hand desperately over Venom's mouth. It does nothing, but you can't stand the thought of letting go.

"He uses words like gorgeous and beautiful. They are true," Venom promises, "But he never says sexy or delicious. Those are true, too, and you should hear them."

"Thank you, Venom," You croon, moving your hands to his cheeks to tug them closer to your face. He accepts a kiss to the teeth, seeing as he hasn't bothered to give himself lips in this form, and it's a rather odd sensation on your own. But it quiets him down, and he's calm under your touch.

"I'm happy you think those things," You grin, and you can't deny that you're flattered, "But if you want to say those things, we have to wait until we're home. I promise, as soon as the door shuts behind us you can join Eddie and I, okay? He'll say beautiful, you can say..." You fumble for a term, inches away from Venom's face, and he offers a helpful hint.

"Hot stuff!" He roars, definitely loud enough to be heard from the street.

"Okay! Okay, hot stuff," You nod, peering horrified at the mouth of the alleyway to make sure no one is coming to investigate, "That's very nice Venom, I'd love to hear that later."

"I will go back inside now," Venom tells you, and your heart rate spikes when you hear rushed footsteps coming your way, "But I will see you later."

"Later, later!" You promise, and the symbiote can't seem to melt into Eddie fast enough. As soon as the face in front of you is tan instead of goopy, you surge for it, locking lips with Eddie in a gesture you hope looks passionate and not rushed.

The man doesn't know what you're doing, but he doesn't care. He lets you slam him against the wall behind him with a soft groan, and you shut your eyes just as the footsteps thud beside you.

"Oh-" A resident of the nearby apartments scoffs, "Gross. Get a fucking room or something, you'll get an infection out here. Perverts!"

You flip the man off for good measure, and wait until he's a safe distance away to part from Eddie. He looks dazed from the kiss, but as soon as he comes to, he's got a message from Venom.

"He wants to know if he can bite that guy's head off," Eddie drawls, and you sigh, typical.

"No," You scoff, grabbing Eddie's hand and leading him back out of the alleyway, "But we should get home, he's got lots to say to me."

"And do to you," Eddie's face scrunches as he listens to Venom's rambling, shaking his head slightly at a suggestion you don't hear, "I- I don't think that's possible, buddy."

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demieyesore · 1 month

Text

Tear You Apart - Anakin Skywalker

Summary - Anakin's obsession with you is slowly taking over; He keeps hoping it'll just go away but quickly realizes that it won't.

Song inspo - "Tear you apart" by She wants revenge

Warnings / Mentions - GN!Reader, No use of Y/n, AFAB!Reader, ... Cannibal!Anakin ... CANNIBALISM AS A METAPHOR FOR LOVE OKAY ... He doesn't literally eat the reader tho, only sexually LMFAO. Anakin is a serial killer tho. Modern AU, College AU, Stalker!Anakin, Yandere!Anakin, Smoking (I don't smoke or do drugs so idk if I wrote it correctly but whatever) Some 18+ but it's really not full on smut lmfao, more like it's just known that they're doing it

A/N - Okay finally actually deciding to write because I keep thinking about Anakin and this song...

Requested - No

Word Count - 1.5k

Anakin Skywalker, a serial killer that hides behind the name "Darth Vader". He didn't choose this name for himself, it was given to him by the media after his first 3 murders. Well known for killing and eating his victims, people began to avoid leaving the house. The FBI were investigating the deaths, trying to find any trace of him.

They wouldn't ever find him. He knew that. He had been so careful to make sure that nothing lead the cops to him.

Or to you.

You are his everything. His world. All the murders are a symbol of his love for you. Everything he ate from his victims were something you had touched. If he didn't eat it, you didn't touch it. But that doesn't mean he didn't still take anything.

The first victim, a boy in your college class. He simply asked to barrow a pencil but when you gave him the writing utensil, Anakin immediately took notice of how your hand brushed against his.

His eyes narrowed at the frat guy's hand, his tongue poking at his inner cheek in annoyance and frustration.

Why would you touch him? He was dirty. All men are and you should be aware of that. You should be more careful about who you touch. Anakin would think in his mind, scolding you as he makes a note of who the douchebag was.

Two weeks later, he was found dead. His left hand missing and instead resting in Anakin's stomach. Of course from just the first victim, they couldn't assume he was actually eating the victims, they couldn't even be sure that this was a serial killer when there were no other deaths.

The second victim came about a month after that. In honor of the frat boy's passing, you and your friends went to a college party. This party was only about a week after the frat boy passed. You got a little too drunk, you could barely stand upright. What was Anakin supposed to do? Especially after he saw how handsy some guy was being with you? After he saw how he tried to lead you upstairs.

You unfortunately went with him, too drunk to fight back but that's okay! Anakin will take care of you like always.

Anakin saw how the sober party goer kissed you, he had to figure out how to protect you without drawing attention to himself.

He picked up a half empty red solo cup, standing by the staircase as he chucked the cup at your best friend. He swiftly walked away from the stairway, leaning against a doorframe as your best friend turned around.

She was clearly pissed, already a good sign for Anakin. She was scoping out the scenery, looking for who could have thrown the cup at her when she saw you making out against a wall with a dude that definitely was not your type. She stomped up the stairs, grabbing your wrist as she pulled you back downstairs and out of the party.

Anakin smiled to himself, holding a new cup with some kind of alcohol. His eyes drifted to the moron you were kissing. God how he wanted to kiss you too. Jealously spiked in his heart, his eyes darkening already trying to form a plan.

So three weeks later, same thing happened. Another guy found dead. He wasn't missing his hand this time, no it was something more personal.

His tongue.

The tongue that was practically shoved down your throat. He enjoyed cutting out his tongue while he was still alive, wanting him to know that this is what happens when you try to take advantage of someone who's drunk.

This pattern continued, making sure that the murders were far away enough from when you last interacted with the fucking losers.

I mean who would suspect you? Oh yeah, you gave a guy a pencil and he never gave it back? Such good motivation to kill someone.

Now of course, the second one could be motivation but you were so drunk that you didn't even remember it in the morning. And your best friend didn't say anything about it. Anakin would have known if she did, he has spyware installed on all your devices, recording devices in your dorm room and with how often he's watching you, he would of course know.

The other murders he committed were similar, anyone who came into contact with you that he disliked... a couple weeks or even months later, they'd end up dead.

No one put together that it was involved with you. I mean even you didn't. It wasn't like you were dating anyone, he didn't have to kill a boyfriend. Only small... inconveniences.

That old geezer at your job that kept harassing you? Dead, his eyes gouged out.

The girl at the movie theater that was an absolute bitch? She was on a fucking phone call during the whole movie. She was interrupting the date you and Anakin were on! It didn't matter to him that you didn't know you were on a date. It was a movie you were really looking forward to but the cunt couldn't keep her mouth shut. Yeah well, it's fine because she also ended up dead, her ears missing.

Nothing would come between you and Anakin. You may have only talked to him a couple of times, mainly to work on a project but it didn't matter. He knew you thought he was cute. He was watching you even before that.

Anakin didn't even want to like you as much as he does. When he first saw you, he felt a connection. Convinced himself that he was crazy. He would tell himself that he didn't need you. That he wouldn't give into his urges.

It became useless after a while. He was already hooked before you ever spoke to him.

But it solidified when you were stressing yourself out over an exam. You went outside, needing a smoke break. Anakin had been working on a scheme to be able to talk to you. Wanting to make sure how he felt about you before he took it too far.

He watched as you groaned, pulling out your pack of cigarettes and realizing none were left. You swore you had one more left, you rummaged through your bag looking for the last one when he tapped your shoulder.

You turned around, confused with a dazed look on your face when you saw him.

Anakin held out a pack to you. It was your favorite brand and you thanked him as you took one of the cigarettes.

You leaned towards him when he flicked his lighter on. He lit his first, pressing it between his lips as he towered over you slightly, his left hand holding the lighter on while his right hand protected the flame from any wind. Your cigarette ignited as you happily took an inhale of it.

Anakin knew for a fact that he would obsess over this for the next two days even when he told himself that it's only just a crush. It'll go away.

When you smiled up at him he had to repeat his little affirmations to himself, not wanting to be attached.

"It's just like all the others, it'll go away." He thought to himself.

He prayed for it to go away but his obsession just continued to grow.

I guess that's how you got here, underneath him. His obsession, his "crush" just never went away.

Anakin slowly invaded your life, not wanting to frighten you away. He may have eaten parts of people but it was just a metaphor for his love. Something he took a little too seriously.

He'd never hurt you, ever. Not unless he absolutely had to. But even then he wouldn't. He'd only just make threats.

You're too pure for him to hurt.

The only way he'd hurt you, was sexually.

He craved to hold you close, your skin pressed against him tight.

"Lie still, close your eyes..." Anakin would mumble against your lips, pulling himself away as he lined himself up with your entrance. He didn't want this to hurt you too badly.

He'd groan as he pushes himself into you. Thrusting into you slowly at first, letting you adjust to his size.

Anakin wanted this for so long, he couldn't help but to moan your name into the crevice of your neck as he sped up.

"So-" A whimper escaped his mouth before he finished his sentence.

"So lovely, you feel so right..." His soft breath against your collar bone, you could feel his beating heart in his chest.

He fucked into you deeper, a whisper fleeing his esophagus and into your eardrum.

"I want to fucking tear you apart."

Your hand brushed up against his, leaving it there. You told him how you felt, how much you loved him as you were both locked in a stare.

Anakin's movements slowed at your confession, taking a moment to process what you just said before his lips met your again.

You weren't sure of how he felt, whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last.

Either way, Anakin wanted you and this was bad. He wanted, wants, to do things to you. It was making him crazy.

A little crush turned into a like.

Anakin grabbed you by your hair, gripping it roughly and told you.

"I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight."

#yandere anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #stalker!anakin #dark!anakin #perv!anakin

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 month

Text

Che'nya: Nya-hoo~!

MC: ...

MC: Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka.

Che'nya: ...

Che'nya: You remembered my full name, nya?

MC: *smiles* Of course. I won't forget the person who refused to return my mask.

Che'nya: ...

Che'nya: It was just a harmless prank, nya... I'm here to return it now.

MC: Thank you-

Che'nya: Or not. I think you look really cute~.

MC: ...

MC: I'm in the middle of working now, so I won't be participating in your harmless prank.

MC: And I need to serve my patrons. Without my mask, I will not be able to work efficiently.

Che'nya: But that's not what I see here, nya~. *smiles* I think your customers like you a lot~.

MC: ...

MC: Whether they're not bothered with my face or not, I prefer not to draw attention.

Che'nya: I still don't see that as a reason~. *grins*

MC: ...

MC: *doesn't want to deal with him and walks away*

Che'nya: Nya? I'm a new customer nya! *runs after them*

Che'nya: *got spiked with a catnip* *is on the floor, playing with a beach ball*

MC: ...

The co-worker: Looks like you will have to drag that home.

The customer: *who just wanted to see if the catnip would work* I'm really sorry...

MC: No, it's fine. Alchemi-

Che'nya: My name is Che'nyaaaaaaa~.

MC: ...Che'nya, sir. I will be taking you home. *proceeds to pick him up*

Che'nya: Ooh~ :3

MC: ...

The co-worker: He's bonito.

MC: ...

MC: He's annoying.

Neige: Eh? Che'nya was here a few moments ago?

The co-worker: Yes. One of our patrons gave him a catnip, and you know the rest.

Neige: Oh dear.

Vil: So MC isn't here now. Hmm, I see. No reason for me to be here then. *stood up*

Neige: Wait, Vil! Didn't you buy a new mask for them? Why not leave it here to the staff?

Vil: No. I will personally hand it to them.

Vil: *just as he is about to leave*

Neige: *receives a call from MC*

Neige: MC?

MC: Neige...

Neige: You sound tired. Are you alright?

MC: *sigh* Please tell me Che'nya's address. He has been leading me to every box factory in the city.

Che'nya: But a caaaaat~ lives in a boooooox~!

Neige: Are you carrying him?

MC: Yes. Since he said that he gets carsick.

Che'nya: *purrs*

Neige: *chuckles* I'll send you his address. Be patient with him, MC.

MC: Hm. Thank you, Neige. *hangs up*

Vil: Looks like your friend is giving them too much trouble.

Neige: *chuckles* I think that's just Che'nya's way to get to know MC better.

Vil: And why would he do that? *raised an eyebrow*

Neige: Che'nya wants to be friends with them.

Vil: ...

Vil: Friends, huh.

MC: *finally arrived to where Che'nya is living*

MC: *has put Che'nya inside a big box because that's what he wanted*

Che'nya: :3

MC: ...

MC: I'll cook you some dinner and then I'll leave.

Che'nya: You're going to abandon me, nya? :3

MC: ...

MC: Yes.

Che'nya: Meanie~ MeaniemeaniemeanieMEANIE!

MC: ...

MC: *closes the box then proceeds to go to his kitchen*

Che'nya: MEOWWWWWWW!!!!!

MC: ...

MC: I should ignore him.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst chenya #twst vil #twst neige #twst vil and mc series 1

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tomblythismyhusband · 2 months

Note

hiiiii this is a request for billy!!!

what about a smutty fic where reader is riding billy while wearing his hat!? 🤍🤍

the only reason why i didn’t make this anon is so i can get the notif if you reply 😭😭

ride [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | When at a party your father was throwing, you meet Billy, a cowboy that spikes your interest.

[warnings]: 18+ MDNI, teasing, pnv, fingering, language, other smut warnings yk, edited this at 2am

[wc]: 2.8k

[note]: thank you sm for the request!! y’all are creative

You hated it when your father threw parties at the ranch. They always got too crowded, too loud, and way too dangerous. You see, cowboys and alcohol weren't always the best mix. Groping hands and lustful stares always came along with it. Your father always wanted you to be present at his little gatherings, to socialize or whatnot.

You dreaded small talk with the other girls present and weren’t interested in any of the drunken cowboys that always made fools of themselves trying to woo you. You stood there, arms crossed, pressed against the wall. Observing. The air was thick with smoke, the smell filling your lungs causing your nose to scrunch slightly.

“How’s it goin’ lil lady?” A voice sounded from your right, causing you to wince. You could practically smell the whiskey of the man’s breath without even turning to face him. Deciding to be polite you directed your attention to the man. It was a blonde cowboy. He was about 5’8”, not insanely tall but not short either. He had an unsettling feeling about him that made you feel immediately uncomfortable.

You gave him a strained smile. “It’s going well.”

The cowboy gave you a drunken smile, leaning his shoulder against the wall limply. “I like yer dress, lace is my favorite. Why… ain't you just a doll.”

You kept your smile, your cheeks hurting with tension at the forced action. “Thank you.” You replied, giving a curt nod.

The man drew closer, making your chest pump with anxiety. You always hated when men thought they could invade your space just because you were a woman. You took a slight step back causing the man to let out a low chuckle.

“You nervous doll? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You know if you’d follow me I know a nice place we can… well you know….” He slurred, drawing one of his hands up to touch one of the strands of hair cascading over your shoulders. You jolted back, immediately slamming into someone.

Firm hands placed themselves on your shoulders as you ran into whoever it was. You turned your head, looking up quickly. “I’m sor-“

Your eyes connected with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. You hadn’t thought the phrase “taking your breath away” was true until this moment. You couldn’t breathe. The man before you was gorgeous. Soft brown curls peaked out from under his hat that he wore, framing the sharp angles of his face nicely. The light freckles on his face indicating he’d been in the sun.

“You ok?” He said in a low voice, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at the blonde cowboy who was still staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. The brown haired cowboy cocked an eyebrow, noticing your discomfort and pleading eyes. He cleared his throat and stared at the blonde man.

“Were you botherin’ my lady?” He asked accusingly towards the man, stepping slightly in front of you. God he was tall.. he seemed to tower over you. The blonde cowboy’s face immediately paled.

“N-no I wa-“ He stuttered.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here.” The brown haired cowboy snapped.

The blonde cowboy gave an incoherent mumble before storming away. You released the breath you were holding in and looked up at the gorgeous man who had just helped you.

“Thank you. I hate talking to men like that.” You sighed. The man laughed. (which made you realize how perfect his lips were as well)

“Men like that?” He chuckled.

You nodded. “Always too drunk and grabby all the time. No respect for anyone’s space.” You made a face of disgust that made the man before you flash another lopsided grin.

“Well.. anytime.” He gave you a smile “What’s your name?” The man asked, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. He stepped back, respectfully giving you room to talk. The action alone made your heart thump as your eyes trailed up his body. Even through his shirt you could tell he had some muscle to him.

“Oh- Uhm.. Y/n. Y/n Charles.” You nodded.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh so this is your ranch? Your father’s always throwin’ parties like this huh?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yep.. fun right?” You said sarcastically.

He let out another chuckle before looking at you again.

“Billy.” He said lowly, slightly bowing his head.

You tilted your head. Where had you heard that name before? You tried to jog your memory but it was no use. Maybe you had heard your father talking about him, or maybe some girls down at the salon.

“Billy..” You repeated, smiling up at him. “I like it.”

Billy chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

It was weird talking with Billy. You felt a bubble of desire in your stomach that you had never felt when talking to any other man. Now all of a sudden you were imagining his hands on your body, his lips on yours. You thought of his hair, wondering how it would feel if you’d drag your fingers through it.

You stared up at him, and he stared back. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was almost as if you both had an understanding. An understanding of mutual attraction. Billy wet his lips.

He leaned a bit closer, his scent filling your nose. “I know we just met but… your intrestin’ to me.” He said in a low voice.

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “I could say the same…”

Billy leaned in even closer, breath brushing the outside of your ear gently as he spoke. “We could go to your room.. get to know each other better?” His voice was rough, full of unsaid desires that made your heart palpate.

“Are you implying something a lady should be ashamed to talk about?” You teased in a whisper. Billy let out a low chuckle.

“Is that where your mind is at?” He taunted, meeting your gaze. You reached up your fingers and dragged them against the brim of his hat.

“Would it be bad if it was?” You smiled, cocking your head slightly. Billy smirked. He liked how playful you were being.

Billy’s hand found yours and he squeezed it gently, pulling you closer to him. “No… It wouldn’t.” He murmured, making your breath quicken.

You made a little tsk sound and pulled away from him. “You think I’m that easy?” You chuckled. “Nice try cowboy.” You cooed, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. Billy’s eyes widened briefly before his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“Your decision darlin’… See ya, gorgeous.” He tipped his hat then turned to walk away. You watched as he sauntered back into the crowds of people. You bit your lip as your mind replayed the interaction you just had with him. He had called you gorgeous. You couldn’t deny the fact that you found him insanely attractive- perfect even. Why were you playing hard to get? You weren’t sure why.

You continued to roam about the party, talking mindlessly with the ladies there. You tried your hardest to stay engaged in the conversations but your thoughts were still on Billy. Would it be so bad to fool around with him? Even if it was just for tonight? You couldn’t ignore the pulsing feeling in your core when you thought about it. Fuck it.

You excused yourself from whatever and whoever you were talking about quickly and started to glance around for Billy. It was still insanely crowded in the house, causing you to have to constantly say “excuse me” just to get anywhere. You searched the living room for his blue eyes but he wasn’t there. You felt a pang of fear that he had just decided to leave.

Gracefully, you slipped out of the living room and started to make your way down one of the dark hallways of your home. It was empty. The loud clamoring of the party was still heard as you walked, heels clicking on the creaking floorboards.

The bathroom door was also in this hall. You heard it open and turned. There he was.

“Billy-“ You said breathlessly. Billy’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Y/n. Nice to see you again.” He joked.

You walked closer to him, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Do you want to….”

“Yes.” He replied roughly, cutting you off before you could even finish. He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall and up the stairs, causing you to let out a little chuckle.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, you led the way, guiding him to your bedroom door. You opened it quickly. Billy was the first to step inside, pulling you in after him and immediately shutting the door. He looked around for a moment, taking note of what kind of girl you were. Your bed was made, the room tidy, and flower patterns on almost anything.

“Like it?” You teased, meeting his piercing gaze. He chuckled.

“Darlin’ do you have the key for the lock?”

You nodded quickly, striding over to your beside table to dig for the key in one of the drawers. Once found, you hurriedly locked the door with a simple click.

Upon hearing the sound Billy instantly grabbed your hips and pushed you up against the door. You dropped the key onto the ground, not caring where it ended up. You just wanted Billy right now.

You felt Billy’s bulge pressed into you, making you gasp. By no means were you a virgin- but you weren’t used to this.

“Fuck doll…” Billy rasped. “I don’t know how respectable I can be to you right now..” His grip on your hips tightened. Billy was restraining himself. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to tear off every piece of lacy cloth you were wearing he was holding himself back. You snaked your hands up to place themselves on his shoulders.

“Don’t hold back- I’m all yours tonight.” Before you could even get the last word out, his lips were on yours. The reassurance was helpful, making Billy feel as if you really wanted this. Which you did. Desperately.

Billy’s lips worked against yours with a roughness you’d never known you’d liked. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you flush against his lips even more. He tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth making you almost melt into him.

He still had his hat on- which you didn’t mind, you liked it. You soon felt his fingers leave your hips and neck and trail down and move to your back, where the laces of your corset were. His hands moved quickly, untying it with ease. You lifted your arms up and broke the kiss as he pulled it off of you and threw it to the side.

His hands then pulled at your dress as you took his lips back onto yours, unbuttoning and buttons needed and letting it slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. He parted from your lips to look down at the lacy cami and cloth shorts you were left in.

“Darlin’ you're just too much.” He groaned, his hands cupping your ass.

You smirked up at him and moved your hand to slide down one of his suspenders. “Let me see you.”

He complied instantly and started to tear off his clothes. When he lifted his shirt you could help but gasp. He was toned, muscled, scarred, perfect. He threw his shirt to the side and you reached a hand to trace a faint scar on his abdomen.

“Knife fight.” He said softly as he unzipped his pants, loving how curious you were. Your hands felt soft on his body, so gentle.

Your eyes flicked up to his. “You're perfect.” Billy chuckled at this, pulling your body closer to his as his pants fell to the ground.

“You're one to talk. I’ve ain’t never seen anyone as gorgeous as ya..” He reached up to take off his hat, but before he could throw it aside you grabbed it.

“Darlin what-?”

“Shh….” You coaxed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. You pushed him gently to sit, and he immediately complied, liking this side of you. You put on the hat with a giggle and shimmied out of your cotton shorts. Billy’s cock twitched in his underwear at the sight. It felt like you were torturing him, depriving him of the touch he starved for.

Next you slid off your cami, letting your breasts sit nicely on your figure, throwing that to the side as well. You stepped forward and bent down slightly to place a palm on Billy’s bulge. He immediately let out a pained moan. “Your tourturin’ me doll.”

You giggled as you ran your other hand down his shoulder. “I could go even slower.” You teased.

Then unexpectedly Billy grabbed your hips and pulled you onto him, causing your let out a yelp of surprise. Billy immediately places his lips on one of your nipples, kissing and swirling his tongue around the area.

“No fair.” You gasped. His hands ran all over your body, as well as his lips.

Billy let out a chuckle, the voice sending a vibrating feeling through your body. “Another second and I would’ve gone crazy darlin’.”

You melted under his touch, his calloused fingertips adding to the realness of his hands. You pulled your fingers through his hair as he kissed your collarbones.

“I need more.” You whined.

Billy smirked. “And to think you had brushed me off the first time I offered this to you down stairs…..”

“Please-“ You begged again. Billy cupped your ass in response to lift you off of his lap so he could yank down the only fabric of his boxers separating him from your cunt.

You looked down at his cock as you straddled him. It was big, you’d never seen one this big before. You bit your lip, Billy squeezed your hips and kissed your jaw.

“Ready darlin’…” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded and he lifted you up, positioning your body over his throbbing cock. You sunk down letting out a strained moan as he filled you up. You were now sitting entirely on him, stretching out the walls of your soaked cunt.

“Take me s’good.” Billy rasped as you started to grind your hips. One of your hands flew up to hold Billy’s hat that still was placed snug on your head. You were so wet he slid right in, no issue. You slowly began to move up and down with Billy assisting you by lifting your hips.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, still keeping the hat on your head. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you moved. Billy picked up the pace, slamming you harder down onto his cock rhythmically.

“Fuck-“ You whimpered as he let out a groan.

“Ride me so good..” He mumbled. His own head was limp as he moved you faster and faster on his cock. Right now you were perfect. So tight. Molded perfectly for him. Your free hand dug into his shoulder. The nail marks left on him would be deep by the end of this.

You rode him harder as tears prickled in your eyes. Every time he slammed into you your body vibrates with pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision.

Billy took one of his hands off your hips and moved it to start massaging circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure. You paused your moment for a moment, not expecting the added stimulation. You head slumped onto Billy’s shoulder, body shaking.

You felt Billy’s mouth brush against your ear. "C' mon darlin’.. I’m almost there… You're doing so well.” He praised.

You gave a weak nod and started to move again, a throaty moan escaping Billy’s lips. With his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming your walls you were in heaven.

“Almost there doll.” He groaned again, kissing your neck as you moved on him, your stamina decreasing by the second. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a sign that you were getting closer.

“Billy-“ You breathed, arching your back, holding his hat still firm on your head.

“I know darlin’, I know..” He murmured as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. You watched as he came, filling your already overstimulated cunt with his cum. Your orgasm hit you as well, sending your body into a fit of shakiness.

You became still, his cock still throbbing with pleasure as you clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat. Billy brushed some of your hair from your forehead and kissed it.

“I like how you kept my hat on.” Billy smirked, looking down at you. “Suits ya.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his soft lips. He seemed so tender now, so gentle.

Finally after a while of kissing you slid off of him, cum dripping down your thighs.

“When can I see you again Y/n?” He drawled, holding your waist so you were still close to him.

“Anytime you want to get your hat back.” You teased.

Billy’s eyebrows raised with amusement. “You keepin’ it?”

You kissed his nose. “It’s mine now.”

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aphrogeneias · 4 months

Text

too close

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: smut (+18). friends with benefits. penetrative sex, anal play, teasing.

Your toes curl in your boots when you feel his fingers trail down your spine.

The soft fabric of the arm of the couch under your tummy digs into your skin, and the cold air coming from the open window is not the only thing making your skin tingle. Eddie is right behind you, the sound of his spiked belt coming undone and his zipper being lowered, the telltale sound of the condom wrapper being ripped with his teeth, going all the way to your aching core.

He runs the tip of his cock over your slit, up and down, and you hold your breath, waiting.

"Ready?"

A weak "mhm" is all that comes out. With it, a harsh slap is delivered to your right ass cheek, making it jiggle on his calloused palm. The moan that leaves your spread lips is not as weak.

"Use your words, angel. Yes or no?"

"Yes, Eddie. Jus' do it, please."

The boy chuckles deep in his chest as he sinks into your wet heat, leaking in anticipation down your thighs. Your hands grab the nearest cushion, and you hear Eddie hiss as you clench around his length, filling you inch by inch as he bottoms out.

“How could I forget how needy you are?”

You don't need to look back to know he's grinning like a devil, temptation incarnate. The divots of his dimples, the thick slope of his neck, his curls falling down his pale shoulders. You don't need to look because if you do, this will be over too soon.

“‘M not needy. You're just a tease.”

“No need to talk back, baby. I'll give you what you want.” He backs it up by grinding his hips into you, still buried to the hilt. You feel him deep inside of you, brushing that spot that has you creaming around him each time.

Each time you end up exactly like this, ending the night bent over his couch, on your back in his bed, and you don't, you're riding him on the front seat of his van when he takes you home.

There's a magnetism between the two of you. You never mean to — his hands, your hands, your bodies gravitate towards each other. Two heavenly bodies in each other's orbit, never too far, drifting too close.

Too close is never close enough.

Not when you spent the whole night side by side on that same couch, your legs over his, your friends unaware of how both of you were counting the minutes until they left and you could finally touch each other the way you crave the most.

Eddie keeps teasing you, stretching you on his cock until he pulls out again, all the way out, and all the way back in. He chuckles again when he hears you huff, impatient. “Tease. I know.”

You hold tight while he builds a punishing pace, drilling into you. Ringed hands holding your hips in place, throbbing inside of you as he drags himself in and out of your inner walls. He smacks the swell of your ass just to hear you moan louder, forcing those sounds out of you.

“Still needy, angel? What do you need more? Need me to make you come?” One of his hands travel higher, spreading you open for him, and you can't help but look back this time. His hair is falling on his face when you look over your shoulder, eyes fixated on the place where your bodies meet.

His thumb comes to press lightly on the tight hole of your ass, not enough to enter, but enough to make you even wetter, your pussy squelching around him. You squeeze your eyes shut at the new sensation. He keeps it there, his other hand squeezing your hip, drawing out a long mewl out of you.

Your head falls back onto the couch, feeling the coil on your lower tummy tightening and tightening. “Yeah. You like that, don't you? Knew you would.”

“Eddie…” You don't care how whiny you sound. “I… I'm…”

The sound of skin slapping against skin, and Eddie's own moans mix with yours. “Let go, angel. I'm right there with you. I'll fuck you in the ass next time, ‘kay? That what you want? But you need to come for me first.”

Your body goes smack against the worn couch as you come, arching your back, craving the heat of his skin against yours. He falls forward, on top of your still trembling body after he follows you down the precipice, and nuzzles his nose on the back of your neck, not caring about your hair.

His weight on top of you, the utter boy of his smell invading your senses. It's good, too good. Too close.

“You're crushing me, Eds.”

All he does is sigh, big and exaggerated, and not move an inch. “You love it.”

He has no idea how much.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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inoreuct · 9 months

Text

punkflower where hobie loves the morales family, loves how they’re becoming HIS family.

still, the first time jeff calls him “son”, he has such a visceral reaction.

he knows it’s coming from a good place and he knows he should be touched, but he’s only ever been called son in a condescending way. in a “know your place beneath me and stay in it” way. he feels so sick all of a sudden, nausea roiling in his gut, and his knee bangs against the underside of the table as he screeches his chair back and mutters a shaky “’scuse me”.

he hears rio’s concerned call of his name, sees the confusion and dread on jeff’s face right before he turns and leaves. he doesn’t stop until he’s up on the roof, ducking into the bottom of the water tower and collapsing into a corner.

stupid. it’s so stupid, and it pisses him off how tears are burning down his cheeks.

hobie scrubs them away with the back of his wrist even as he hears the door to the roof creak open, hears the familiar gait that he knows belongs to miles. he keeps his face turned away as his boyfriend appears in his line of sight, stepping gingerly like if he moved too fast hobie would break.

the punk sniffs angrily, the spikes on his cuff poking his cheek as he wipes his tears again. a hand brushes his against the ground as miles sits down beside him, close enough to touch but not quite.

he waits. for miles to say something, anything; to ask for an explanation, or offer words of comfort that will ultimately only make him feel worse.

in the end, it’s him that breaks the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he offers, and cringes. his voice is thick like rusted metal, scratchy in his throat. it’s scraping up against old wounds that never really healed, pulling at scabs to draw fresh blood, and it stings. “m’sorry, i just— he’s—” it feels damning to even say these words, but it’s the truth, and hobie’s never been a good liar.

doesn’t mean it’s not eating him alive, though.

“he’s still a cop, miles,” he chokes out, guilt winching around his lungs like a parasite, “and the last time a cop called me son—” hobie’s breath shudders out of his lungs as miles crawls into his space, ducking his head beneath hobie’s arm to press the punk’s face to his chest.

“i know,” miles murmurs, wrapping his fingers around hobie’s nape as hobie scrunches a desperate fist into the back of his shirt. “i know. i understand.”

hobie doesn’t think he really does, but that’s okay. if hobie has any say in it, miles will never have to go through what he did and understand what it’s like.

his voice is meek as he asks, “are they mad?”

“‘course not.” miles clicks his tongue, gently admonishing, like it’s a fact hobie should know by now; his fingers trace gentle circles into hobie’s skin. “just worried. hope you know my mama’s gonna feed you thrice the usual serving of tres leches when we get back.”

that gets a chuckle out of him at least, but the look on jeff’s face still haunts him, burned front and centre into his mind’s eye like an afterimage. “and your dad?” he feels miles go still, doesn’t resist as his boyfriend pulls back to look hobie in the eye. his voice is terribly gentle.

“he understands. it’s okay.”

hobie doesn’t think it’s okay. it doesn’t feel very okay. jeff had disliked him at first and reasonably so; he’s nothing like a person anyone would want their kid to be with.

and yet the captain had let him into their home, accepted him as miles’s person, given him a place at the table. of course rio would have sat him down and shoved food into his hands regardless, but still—

“hobie.”

miles calls his attention back, and he looks up into wide, dark eyes. his heart burns.

“he knows what you’ve been through. he knows how much you’ve grown.” miles huffs a soft laugh, rubbing his thumb against hobie’s hairline. “do you remember that time we went to your concert?”

hobie nods; he doesn’t think he can speak just yet.

“you were so nervous about what he would think, but he was stressing about looking like an old man in front of your friends. he literally said that as your boyfriend’s dad he had to out-hip all the other guys his age.”

something twists in hobie’s chest. “he’s the coolest old man i know.” he pauses, frowning. “maybe after peter b.”

miles laughs again, quietly. “he cares about you.”

hobie doesn’t doubt that. he’d let jeff and rio learn about him piece by piece, and with every sliver of information jeff had softened more; he might be the captain of the PDNY, but he was also a father.

hobie’s never really had a father.

not until he was asked about whether he preferred waffles or pancakes. until he was consulted for advice on what to wear to a pride parade. until jeff only looked at his blue laces with a tentative expression and he was hesitantly slipped a phone number to call if he ever got into trouble in this dimension that he couldn’t get himself out of, a helpline should he ever need it.

so he gets up, takes a deep breath and hauls miles to his feet. his boots clomp down the stairs; he takes care not to fling open the door and when he sees jeff and rio hovering in the living room, he holds out his arms.

rio reaches him first. she’s shorter but fierce, pulling hobie down to hug him tight, and he feels like crying again.

miles slips close to cling to his back, arms sliding around his waist, and hobie watches jeff meet his eyes with something almost anxious.

hobie’s lips twist in a smile. an i’m sorry and an it’s okay wrapped in one.

and maybe it really is okay, because when jeff comes around to squeeze them all together, hobie can’t help his relieved sigh as he thinks, this is what family’s supposed to feel like, certain as the next deep breath he takes and comforting like the broad hand that squeezes his shoulder.

fin.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #across the spiderverse #atsv #flowerpunk #miles x hobie #spiderverse #i love them so fucking much #jeff and rio care so much for this scrawny boy their son loves #hobie’s probably never had a proper father figure but as soon as jeff accepts him BAM #he’s getting dragged into talk about football and elections and the system #and he’s absolutely gobsmacked bcs jeff CARES about his opinion #rio and miles are peeking at them from around the corner and high-fiving

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love-bitesx · 11 months

Text

was booking myself a new tattoo and this is all i could think of ! this is just brainrot ramble

: ̗̀➛ hobie brown x gn!reader - giving him tattoos (and yourself)

thinking about giving hobie sweet little tattoos with a makeshift stick and poke set up. he'd come home drunk one night, slurring his words and holding you close to him, ranting about how he wants you to give him a tattoo (and something about not wanting to pay big corporations for a real tattoo gun). even if you’re not creative, he just wants to be able to look at his skin and see evidence of you, always. you refuse him at the time, telling him he's too drunk and he'll regret it. but when it's the next day, and he's stone cold sober, you walk in on him hunched over the kitchen table, making a little stick and poke creation.

so, it’s late at night, he’s sprawled out across your bed like it was his, his head and shoulders pressed into the headboard, eyes trained on you. straddling his lap, you held his arm up to the lamp, tongue stuck out in concentration. hobie winced everytime the needle met his skin, his free hand gripping at your thigh to outlet the pain. when you're done, and he's all cleaned up, he's lit up with pride, constantly checking his arm in different lights to see your design. "it's perfect, darlin'," he mutters, his lips pressed to your forehead.

he’d very rarely ever wear sleeves again after that, always having your design on show to remind him of you when he’s away. not that he needed it, you always had a comfortable seat in the front of his mind. he’d show it off to his friends, though, all the time.

"oi, pav!" he'd call out to his friend, drawing his attention over to his exposed skin.

"you got a tattoo!" pav would exclaim, hopping over and inspecting it closely.

“my partner did it,” he couldn’t mask the grin from fuzzing his cheeks, “fuckin' sick, right?”

his heart wasn't even prepared for what he'd come home to that night. when he'd climb in through your window, shedding his spider-apparel and kicking his boots off by your dresser, he'd notice your sleeping form. smiling to himself, picking up the sheets and climbing into the empty space, careful not to startle you – not that it would, you were more used to waking up beside him than alone.

his hands wouldn't be able to stop themselves from touching you, needing to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, and beaming at the sleepy sound of his name leaving your lips. when his hands find your hip, however, you jump and groan in pain. he'd pull you to him.

"'the fuck 'appened?" he'd whisper, careful not to touch the area again, but be confused at your reaction.

"tattoo," is all he could catch, through your tired, and possibly pained, groans.

"you what?" he'd mutter, and lift the covers back, hiking up your his t-shirt to expose a tiny black design, sitting on the skin above your hip bone.

etched into you was a tiny spider, hand drawn and adorned with little spikes, similar to his persona. he'd be so taken aback, he wouldn't even know what to say.

"'s'this for me, sweetheart?" his fingers would very lightly ghost the dark outlines, honing into your body's reaction to it, steering clear of the painful areas. he's close to you, very close, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"mhmm," you moan, your brain finally pulling itself from slumber, warm in the smell of him, tangling your arms around his neck, "all for you."

"fuckin' ell," he breathed before kissing you with such a passion you'd never felt from him before. he was drowning in you, head buzzed at the thought of something of him being on your skin forever, and you on his. heart pouring, he reached for you in every way he could.

he'd be obsessed with both of the tattoos, strongly encouraging you to never ever wear anything high-waisted again, so long as he steered away from sleeves. pride and happiness overtook him when he'd see you with other people, in public or with friends, and see the black ink peek through your clothes, knowing that it was for him, and nobody else.

he just loved you a lot, and he adores the permanent reminders.

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

Heyo!

Can you pretty please with sugar on top do something with Steve and shy!reader and then passing notes?

Feel free to skip if you want, and thank you in advance! Your writing skills are so good!

ty angel! hope you like it xoxo — after a scolding from keith for talking to you on the job, steve takes matters into his own hands (shy!fem!r, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Grieving, grieving, grieving.

Steve goes into his fourth hour on the clock mourning the lack of you. You’re sitting just beside him, click-clacking away at the chunky computer, but he misses you anyway. He hasn’t said a word to you in an hour. He’s pretty sure it has to be a record by now, especially with you close enough to kiss.

Keith got mad at the two of you for ‘fonduing on the job.’ Whatever that means. Now, the two of you are silent and unsure of what to do with yourselves. This job was only tolerable because he could spend eight hours with you. What’s he supposed to do now? Work?

“Have a good day,” he says, a bit robotically but with a smile, as he hands a customer their bag of movies. Killer Klowns, Poltergeist, and Basketcase — for what must be a horror movie marathon for a holiday season cleanse.

The customer service grin washes away the second the door dings open and shut again. The store is quiet and mostly empty, eerily so without you to fill the void.

A funny joke pops into his head then, and his first instinct is to tell you about it — just to see you smile ‘cause he knows you’ll laugh even if it’s not funny. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Keith isn’t looking, then finds the weirdo watching him like a hawk, only his beady eyes visible over the aisle of tapes.

Steve cowers beneath the ice-cold glare and turns away again. He reaches for a sticky note instead, bright yellow and with the Family Video logo printed in green at the top. The jotting of his pen against the pad fills the mostly silent store.

He yawns and fakes a stretch to stick the thing on the counter next to you.

You don’t notice it at first — because inventory has drained your awareness so much that it’s all you can focus on — but you’re smiling the second you do. It schlicks when you un-stick it from the laminate to find a sloppy drawing of a cartoon pig.

“Missing you pig time” is written in something close to chicken scratch just beside it.

You get all giddy, like a schoolgirl in the back of the classroom getting a note from their crush. Being with Steve feels exactly like that, all the time. On the legal pad next to you, you write a cheesy pun of your own — a plump hippo in a neater cursive that reads “I hippopota-miss you.”

You rip it from the notebook slowly and with a palm spread flat to avoid making too much noise. You crumble it up to pretend like it’s trash, then intentionally miss the bin beside you. The thing bounces by Steve’s sneakers before he bends down to pick it up with a golden hand.

He smooths out the paper as best he can on the counter. Then leans on his elbow and props his scruffy chin in his palm, using his fingers to hide the beam on his face. With his free hand, he draws you a hedgehog adjacent to the cartoonish animal you’d created — only he doesn’t really remember what a hedgehog looks like, so it’s more of a circle with spikes.

“Could really use a hedge-hug right now,” he writes.

He crushes the paper between his palms and tosses it into your lap.

You shoot him a glare, accompanied with a small smile, but he looks away too quickly to see it.

You begin to beam as your eyes dart over the crumbled paper, an expression so wide Steve can see it in his own head. He’s grieved to miss it, but he doesn’t want Keith to see him and think he’s distracted again. Besides, he knows if he looks at you too long, he’ll have no choice but to kiss you stupid.

Now all you are is unkissed and grieving, more so than you were just five minutes ago. You grow empty with the feeling. It makes the spark of bravery and sudden longing burn brighter behind your ribcage.

You rise from your squeaking swivel chair and walk the very short distance to Steve. Three steps. Five, maybe. Six at the very most. You don’t count them, too overwhelmed by your love for the boy who doesn’t see you coming.

You wrap him up in your arms, wedging yourself between him and the countertop. Your arms clasp behind his lower back as your cheek squishes into his sternum. He smells like home, cologne, and something warmer.

Steve tenses beneath your embrace. Not because he doesn’t welcome it, but because you’re not usually so affectionate this way. It took you months to kiss him first — longer to stop asking to kiss him before you did it.

And you’re a delicate little thing, too. You hate getting in trouble. Hate the thought that someone, somewhere in the world, was at some point unhappy with you. And even though you don’t particularly care for your boss, you’d think you’d probably cry if Keith ever scolded you.

Steve knows this, too. So he doesn’t give in to you so easily.

“Whatcha doing?” he croons lowly to you.

“Give you a hedge-hug,” you mumble into his chest.

He scoffs a faint laugh that fans across your forehead. “You’ll get in trouble,” he teases in a gentle whisper, slowly melting into your embrace. His wide hands smooth warm along your spine. He doesn’t press you anything closer with his touch, just cradles you softly against him.

“Don’t care. I just miss you.”

“Hippopota-miss me?” he jokes and noses into your hair. You smell like home, in both the figurative and literal sense of the word. Equal parts because you spent the night at his place and because your scent strikes something short of nostalgia inside his chest.

You laugh. He can feel the golden sound of it in his ribcage. “Pig time,” you answer.

“How’d you like that one, huh?” he asks, muffled against you.

“It was genius.”

“Right!” he chuckles. “Thought of it outta nowhere and had to tell someone about it.”

Your head shakes against him as a grin blossoms on your lips. He can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel it — in the way your cheek squishes harder against his sternum. “Your brain is so amusing, you know that?”

Steve, knowing that would be an insult coming from Robin, decides to take it as a compliment from you. He presses his petaled mouth to your forehead and lingers there for several moments. “Thank you,” he murmurs after.

The Robin in question turns out to be his savior, neither intentionally nor ungrudgingly.

She’s stacking VHS tapes on the shelves with Keith, both of them crouched to restock the bottom rows. She rises first, bones creaking in protest. “God, I feel like an eighty-year-old, man,” she groans and stretches her aching knees.

Back to full height again, she sees the two of you wrapped in an embrace behind the counter. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Not because she’s jealous — she’s definitely not jealous — but because the two of you couldn’t last a whole hour not talking. It’s deplorable.

But despite her internalized complaints, she refuses to let Keith catch you fonduing a second time. Right before he stands beside her, she swipes a hand over the top row of tapes. Adventure movies titled L through M tumbled to the ground, a few of them knocking the older boy on his mulleted head.

“Ow!” he winces, nasally and whiny. He cradles the top of his deep brown, only slightly greasy hair and stares daggers at the girl above him. “What the heck was that for?”

Robin shoots him a shaking smile, freckled face blotched pink. “Sorry,” she lilts, voice trembling. “Spasm.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug turns one

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

Text

“Beg me…” Ascended Astarion tells you, you naughty darling… highly NSFW drabble

Also known as I blinked and wrote 2K of dom!Ascended Astarion x turned female reader. Oops 😇😈

Ascended Astarion x f!reader |E| 2K of BDSM

Summary: you burn, waiting for his return, waiting for your punishment…. Waiting for him

CW: degradation, BDSM, bondage, orgasm denial, and the sweet satisfaction that comes with its fulfillment

Continue for your delicious recompense…

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You lay stretched on the bed, arms numb from where they are tugged tight, bound to the headboard far above you. Your legs however, you wiggle, writhing, the ache he’s left between your thighs still burning hot.

And you are powerless to do anything about it. Your folds tingle, left untouched, unsated for the hour he’s been gone. And all you’ve been allowed to do is watch as the clock ticks, left wanting as he attends to matters of state.

Punishment.

You seemed a little too friendly with some Druid, someone… you don’t even remember his name. But the smile you gave was enough to stoke Astarion’s ire and flame his jealousy. Enough to have him sweep you away and bind you to your bed. To tease you with his fingers and tongue until you were close.. so close to bursting. Only to have him pull away.

And then he ordered you… compelled you… not to lose your focus on just how badly you wanted him.

You don’t know for certain if it was your bond, as master and bride, as maker and spawn, that kept your loins absolutely on fire for him, or if it was just the magic of your lust for him.

Does it matter? Not a jot, not as you squeeze your thighs together, the sheets beneath you soaked with your arousal as you wait.

Footsteps approach your door, whimpers escaping your mouth as you tug at your bindings. The clock begins to strike the hour, its resonant chime deafening to your ears, every sense of your body burns with overstimulation. You can almost smell him on the other side of the door, the waft of spice and bergamot making your mouth water.

Making your cunt drip more down to the bed as you hear the faint click of the key in the lock.

The bolt draws back, and he enters at last. His face is cold, eyes heavy-lidded as he turns his back on you to shut the door.

And to lock it again. Pocketing the key inside his doublet.

Your heart races, a slight edge of fear spiking your pulse and clamping around your lungs.

But he only shushes you. “Oh, you naughty little girl,” he sneers. “Glad to smell you’re still so hot for me,” he croons as he turns and crosses to the bedside. Instantly, he shoves three long, cold digits into your cunt.

The hum of approval from his throat is nearly enough to send you into bliss. But he simply withdraws his touch. Not a stroke, or a curl or catch on your clit. He merely pulls away to wipe your slick on your panting belly. “There’s hope for you yet, my sweet…” his eyes flash, his body coming to cage you in, the bed buckling beneath you as he slinks over you, careful not to let one inch of his body touch yours. “….that is assuming you still want me? That you’re not ever going to throw seductive smiles and come-hither eyes at anyone else.”

“I wasn’t…” you moan, but his hand flies to cover your mouth, fingers tangy and wet from your arousal.

“Shhh, don’t you insult me by arguing,” that gaze rakes down your naked figure. His lips curl into a sad sort of smirk. “The least you can do is assure me, darling, that you are mine…”

You nod, vigorously. Your breath stifled, his palm over your mouth and nose. He lifts it away, smiling as you gasp for air. “Yours, only ever yours, my love,” you pant. You strain against the silken bonds that still pull at your wrists.

“Better,” he purrs, “much better. Your body says as much, as well. But you’ll still have to prove it, darling. Prove to me that your words are not false.” The tips of his fingers ghost down your neck, trailing feather light between your shaking breasts and circling over your clenching belly.

His hand comes to slink beneath your ass, his hand clutching hard as suddenly he flips you on the mattress. All that power surges from him, stinging your skin as your world spins. Your numb arms ache, your face buried into the silken sheets. The sounds of his clothing rustling is the only warning you get before you feel the hard, cold lines of his body coming to rest on your back.

He bears all his weight down on you. Crushing you. Suffocating you. But his kiss at the sensitive spot beneath your ear is gentle. His voice, that honeyed melody that only makes you wetter. Hotter. “Are you going to be good, my sweet, sweet little slut, so wet and needy?” He takes your ear between his teeth, his sucking kiss deafening, making your whole spine tingle and twitch under him.

You nod, breathless, pained. You moan, “yes,” wanting nothing more than to show how much you do desire him. To show him how wrong he is to doubt you. You shiver, burning and throbbing in agony. But then you feel his kisses, trailing down the curve of your spine. Heavy, sucking, they ground you. Soothe you. His hands lift your hips, holding you steady, fingers sweeping through your drenched seam, catching your clit with just enough force to make you buck against him.

“How badly do you want me, darling?” he rasps in your ear, bracing an arm by your head to press his hissing lips right against your temple. “You tell me, you beg me, and I might do something about it, my love.”

“So badly,” you buck your hips against his hand, feeling his fingers slide deep inside your channel.

He chuckles as he strokes you. “But how badly, darling?” He withdraws his hands, his tongue lapping at your ear to send tangible shivers through your frame. “Badly enough for you to beg?” Those fingers catch that secret spot only he knows between your slick walls. “Badly enough to have you on all fours, keening for me to fuck you?”

“I… beg... you…” you do keen, relief instantly flooding your core as his fingers dive right back in, as they assume a demanding pace, one finger teasing your clit with such command and precision, your vision blurs.

“Good girl… for now… but you have been such a bad, lustful slut, you know,” he purrs into the creases of your ear, the weight of his body easing as he shifts behind you, his hand caressing over every inch of you, the other still stroking deep inside, bringing you so close to your bliss, you can taste its sweetness and feel its tingling heat just starting to crest.

But then, with a low-throated giggle, he extracts his touch, “You better beg me again for my mercy, better show me you’re not just willing to spread your legs for any powerful male that comes sniffing after you…” fingers claw into the fullness of your ass, squeezing it as he growls in your ear. “After all, you were so easy to seduce, to make you mine… always so wet and greedy and eager for a fuck… maybe a little reminder of how much you’re mine is in order.”

You feel the swell of his cock’s head pressing just at the edge of your folds.

“Remind me all you want, my love, but I know I'm yours alone,” You want to cry, tears in your eyes and drool in your mouth as you moan, “So please, dammit, I beg you. I’ll only ever be yours, and you know it.”

“I do know it,” he croons, mock condescension warming his voice as he slides his length in just an inch or two before he pulls back out, “but I do just so like to hear it from those lips of yours, darling.”

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you groan as he does it again, just the bulge of his head dipping into your wetness.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he taunts you, that silken wickedness in his voice, “for me to fuck you?” An arm wraps around your waist, a single finger slides between the crest of your folds to catch your clit again.

You groan, throat going sore with how loud you cry. “Yes, please, please, my love…” you pant. “My body, my smile, my glances are only for you,” you add. Praying, as he strokes you harder, dipping his cock in you shallowly again, that it’s enough.

“Oh my sweet,” he purrs, thrusting slowly until he fills you, the delicious length, the pressure finally making you whole, “now you’ll taste my mercy.” He laughs slowly. Darkly. “I hope you’ll last, hope you’ll take it like the good girl you want to be…”

Withdrawing, he slams into you, bottoming out at the edge of your channel. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all one. The saccharine relief of him buried and thrusting inside you finally soothing that burn you’ve had festering inside you for hours. You can’t even hold your head up anymore. You can barely keep your face high enough to breathe, letting him plunder you at his relentless pace. Gasping, twitching, bucking. You put all your remaining energy you haven’t had burned up with your desire for him into just riding his cock. Another catch on your clit, and you feel yourself hurling into orgasm. His hands hold you firmly up, even as you spasm and clench so hard around him, that length is almost forced out.

He laughs, slow and deep, setting you down, rolling you on your back as you still twitch with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Another four orgasms should do the trick, don’t you think, my love… enough to make you learn your lesson.”

You groan, burying your mouth into the inside of your arm to hide the noise of pleasured anguish.

Slowly, languorously, he covers you with his body, its weight a comfort and an arousal, especially as you feel his knee tuck under yours to spread your folds wide. The breadth of his cock sweeping along the seam of your cunt.

“Four?” You gulp, already feeling another wave of climax burgeoning between your thighs. He gives a little thrust of his length over you, and then another. The hardness of his erection sweeps over you, catching every nerve that flares on fire for more in your slick. Your arms tug on the restraints, your head thrown back to press hard into the bed. Every muscle in your legs clenches, heat and pain and pleasure tingle, bursting down every nerve.

You scream as you come again, but it’s muted, covered by his own devouring mouth. “Three,” he breathes over your tongue. “Perhaps more, if you’re extra obedient, an extra good girl.” Reaching over your head, his finger slips into the silken binds around your wrists, the fabric instantly easing. Your hands fly to embrace him, your touch running up and down his back, riding the scars that cover him, gripping into the pert swell to his ass, pulling him even harder into you. You sigh, his cock returning inside you with a gentle little thrust. “My little love,” he purrs as his hand cradles your cheek softly. “Forever mine…” he gives a slow, attentive thrust, the undulation of his hips catching right on every tingling, overstimulated sensitive nerve inside you. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? And you’ll let me come too?”

“Yes,” you moan, tangling your tongue with his. “For you my love,” you whisper into his mouth, “for you I’ll come for eternity.”

For @marimosalad ❤️

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Read More Ascended Astarion: “The Rogue You Were”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read More Vampire Rogue Astarion: “Bites in the Night” series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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