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heartshapedmisery · 16 days

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𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

#art donaldson #art donaldson smut #mike faist #challengers #scarlet was here!#mike faist smut

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suncoved · 9 months

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OUCH! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x clumsy!fem!reader

summary; rafe wouldn't trade his clumsy girlfriend for the world.

warnings ; bit of blood (blood nose), fluffy fluff, ooc rafe fsss

you let out a huff to yourself as you reach your hand up to your forehead, clutching it softly and praying to yourself that you weren't sweating profusely. it was deathly hot in the outerbanks today, and your usually 5 minute walk to the cameron house had slowly turned into 15. you did not work well with heat, even after living in the obx for your entire life.

you knew if you called rafe and asked him to come get you at your house he probably would, but you wanted to have some dignity.

trying not to explode with happiness, you stepped into the doorway of the cameron house. with the ac cooling your body, you sighed in relief and made your way to the kitchen. you were always welcome at rafe's, you were there more than you were at your own house.

you heard someone yell your name behind you, whipping around to see rafe's little sister wheezie bolting towards you. "hi wheezie girl" you said as she really knocked you down from the force of her embrace. you had known wheezie since she was a baby and she loved and adored you like a big sister.

you ruffled her hair as she hugged you, though you were both quick to pull back from the heat still prevalent in your body temperature. "how'd the algebra test go?" you asked, adjusting her glasses that were now crooked on her face.

"not good, another D" she sighed, moving towards the kitchen counter as your eyes followed her movements. "its ok wheeze. you'll do better next time, i know you will." she smiled at you lovingly, before turning her eyes back to the current math question she was working on in her book.

you brought yourself to the kitchen cabinet, reaching in to pull out a glass. you loved rafes house, it was beautiful and clean and it had all your favourite things. food, blankets, a pool, an endless array of books and rafe, of course.

wait. where was rafe?

"where's your brother wheeze?" you asked, taking a sip out of your now full cup of water. "he went down to the gym with topper and kelce a bit ago, he's in one of his moods" she sighed, referring to the particularly touchy moods rafe gets in every once in a while.

which means he's extra pissed off than usual.

good.

you said goodbye to wheezie and made your way back out into the heat, walking down the steps and around the house to where the camerons gym was. you heard the loud rap music from miles away, the grunts of the boys echoing louder and louder and you got closer.

you got distracted from the damage of the hurricane on the shore of the beach outside the cameron house, your feet carrying you unconsciously towards your final destination.

you skimmed your eyes over the backyard, the pool foggy and murky, leaves and branches floating on top of the water. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh at wheezie jumping up and down with her phone in the air, trying to get wifi.

you were worried about how hard the cleaners and gardens were going to have to work to get the yard back in shape, but before you could come to feel empathetic for them, a searing pain arose on the bridge of your nose.

your eyes filled with tears as you reached your manicured hand up to your nose, the red crimson liquid staining your fingers and dripping onto your new yellow sundress.

because you weren't watching where you were going, you had run smack dab into the side of the entrance to the gym, your nose hitting the hinge that was sticking out of the wall.

you could taste the metallic substance dripping down your lips, your ears ringing from the pain. yes, you were always just a bit of a crybaby, but you had a low pain tolerance and bumping your nose hurt like shit.

you could hear the sound of weight dropping aggressively as you let out a whimper, clutching your nose in your hand. it was only seconds before heavy hands made their way onto your hips, an all too familiar strong cologne engulfing your nose, making it sting even more.

but you knew who it was, so you didn't hesitate to turn your body around and lay your head on his chest, your hand still protectively covering your nose. you couldn't help but sob at the pain, soft shushes and a hand rubbing your back comforting you softly as you wept.

rafe felt the blood stain his shirt, but he made no effort to move, kissing the top of your head softly.

it wasn't unusual for your daydreaming to lead you to injure yourself in some way. whether it was tripping over or banging into something, rafe knew your clumsiness all too well. but he hadn't seen you cry like this in pain since the 5th grade when you fell off the monkey bars and knocked your head.

along with his sets that were yet to finish, topper and kelce were now long forgotten in his mind. all he thought about was you, and the fact that you were in pain. it made him go fucking crazy.

"baby" he sighed softly as he gently pried you off his chest, pulling back to try to get a good look at your face. your hand was covered in blood, along with your lips and chin, the crimson red still dripping from your nose.

"fuck" he cursed, watching your tears flow down your cheeks in a steady stream. rafe wasn't often calm and collected, but this was a whole different level. he was freaking out.

he quickly took your hand in his, dragging you softly up to the entrance of tannyhill. the only thing he could hear was your whimpers and sobs echoing in his head, all he could think about was you.

before you knew it you were being lifted up onto the cool surface of rafes bathroom counter, the cold marble making you shiver as your dress rode up to expose your thighs. rafe quickly grabbed out multiple tissues from the box, gathering them together in his hand.

"this is going to pinch baby, i'm sorry. hold my hand yeah?" he asked — well — demanded. you felt him bring the paper up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose softly to stop the blood flow.

he made quick work of multi-tasking as he kept the tissue on your nose, quickly cleaning the blood of your lips and chin. he didn't look you in the eyes once as the whole ten minutes he held your nose, waiting patiently before finally pulling away.

you had never been more thankful as you felt no more blood trickle down your face — and so was rafe.

he sighed as he threw the tissue in the bin, grabbing your face in his hands and holding leaning his forehead on yours. you looked into his eyes before he closed them and took a deep breath in.

"don't ever fucking do that to me again baby."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron drabble #outer banks #obx imagine

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chikaras-garden · 7 months

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Batboys as things that go bump in the night

So what if he’s not human?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Contains: Monsterfucking. Dubcon. Unprotected piv sex in Dick’s, Jason’s, and Damian’s. Blood in Bruce’s. Somnophilia and light breeding kink in Dick’s. Knotting in Jason’s. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Tim’s. Degradation in Damian’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked. Happy Halloweekend angels!

BRUCE WAYNE 🦇

A loner. A constant shadow over Gotham. A collector of all things macabre. And now, he has his sights set on you. You’re a pretty thing, dressed in all black at a late-autumn gala, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on you even when your back is turned.

So it’s no surprise that, when you tempt fate by rounding a corner into a deserted hallway, you are not alone.

Stepping out of the shadows, Bruce’s hand clamps around one side of your throat, leaving just one side—the side of your pulse—exposed for his lips. He kisses you there far more than he kisses your lips, nibbling and suckling the soft flesh over your pulse. Your heart beats faster and faster as your knees go weak, but his arm tightens around you.

“I have you, darling,” he husks. His skin is cold against yours, but perhaps that’s because the all-consuming presence of a man like this makes your blood run hot.

His other hand comes up to cup your flushed cheek, thumb dragging along the shape of your face as if he’s trying to memorize you.

“So warm. Such soft skin,” he murmurs, bending his head low and kissing your neck. “Such a beautiful creature.”

Something twists in your stomach when he says that—creature. An instinct tells you to run, but you quickly realize that the look in his eyes has you completely enthralled. He’s watching you with purpose, always keeping your eyes locked as if looking away from you will break the spell he has you under.

“I have to taste you,” he whispers, voice raw with a strain whose source you cannot place. He inhales deeply and lets out a low, feral noise before you feel a twinned shock of pain that makes you gasp: blood rushes to your neck and spills from your broken skin onto his waiting tongue, which greedily laps at the sweet nectar he just stole.

DICK GRAYSON 🦇

You never remember what happened the morning after your nights with your blue-eyed visitor in black, but you can’t stop the way your body aches for the mysterious stranger. At first, you thought he was a dream, but even you know that your unconscious can’t conjure up something as beautiful as him.

He wakes you by laying on top of you, pushing his hot-as-Hell flesh against yours. You didn’t go to sleep naked, but you’re naked now; your clothes are gone, but you’re covered with him, his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, one of his hands painfully squeezing the other, and his red-tipped cock already bullying its way into your slick folds.

It hurts, but the ache is so dizzying that you can’t bring yourself to care, especially when you’re aware that you won’t remember this by morning anyway. You feel as if you’re being burned alive and made new in just the way he wants you. And that feels good, doesn’t it? Why else would you have woken up with your pussy soaking wet?

He picks his head up just enough to watch you watch him while his tongue traces the outer edge of your areola and flicks your nipple in slow strokes, teasing it into hardness with just the tip of his tongue. He’s kneeling between your legs, and his free hand slides down to gently stroke your belly—which is when you notice that his fingers, like his cock, are tipped with blood-red skin.

Then comes his dark murmur, “Let me fill you, pretty thing. Let me give you a little gift to help you remember me.”

Your breath catches and, once again, he latches on—teeth first, this time.

At the same time, he thrusts into you, cock heavy and fire-hot, searing your skin and all but tearing you open while you keen and grasp at him, fingernails scraping down his back. His warmth is inescapable as he thrusts into you with inhuman force.

And you swear that, when he comes, filling you with his infernal seed, you catch a glimpse of a ruby glimmer in his once-blue eyes.

JASON TODD 🦇

Honestly, you handled finding out that your boyfriend is a werewolf remarkably well. But because you’re a human, he has one rule: no knotting. That is, until an October full moon has him more feral than usual, trapped in a rut that he’s powerless to fight against.

Jason has you hiked up against his chest, barely balanced on his thick thighs with your panties shoved aside. One finger is pressed firmly against your clit, the claws that come with his half-transformed state lightly grazing your sensitive skin. He’s already buried inside of you, thrusting so shallowly that he may as well be humping your innermost walls.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder. His skin rages with heat while his muscles tremble, lips mouthing along any inch of your skin that he can reach. Head heavy on your shoulder, he rasps out broken sentences, each cut off by animalistic whimpers and whines. “God, fuck— I can’t— I shouldn’t— You’re—”

You have one hand tangled in his hair, thumbing the soft black-and-white fur that crawls up along his hybrid ears. His cock, impossibly thick already, stretches you even more open than you already were, and you throw your head back to let out a moan of mixed pleasure-pain.

“Fuck,” he whispers, because he feels it too. “Baby, I’m— It’s—”

“Let it,” you gasp, feeling lightheaded with the pain of Jason filling you so completely, cockhead swelling so full that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. “Please, please, Jason, I need it.”

All that gets you is another guttural groan from him, a sound as close to a howl as he can make without being fully transformed. Still swelling, his cock is thick, heavy, hot—pulsing inside of you, begging to stay there, to fill you, to mark and mate with you. You can’t imagine what it must look like, but you know that the feeling is divine: this oneness, this wholeness, is something you’ve never felt before. It’s almost enough to dull how much your pussy aches.

“Jason,” you moan, tears filling your eyes.

“I know,” he soothes, trying to stay sturdy and stable for you even though his whole body is trembling. “Fuck, it— Baby, you feel so good. Such a good fucking girl, letting me mate with you. Gonna make you feel amazing, I promise.”

TIM DRAKE 🦇

“Stay still,” Tim teases, clawed fingers clamping down on your hip. “Or no rewards.”

Your back is pressed against the chilly, damp wall of the bat cave, and your clothes are shreds around your feet. You know this is all your fault, that you should have avoided the man who has only made his obsession with you painfully clear. As soon as the half-dragon spotted you—his treasure, his paramour, his little human love—he pounced.

Half changed with pewter green scales climbing up his skin and pupils narrowed into reptilian slits, Tim wastes no time in turning your clothes into ribbons of fabric in effort to get to you.

And then he drops to his knees, burying his face in between your legs.

The forked tongue laves up and down the folds of your pussy, skirting along the outside of your sopping hole until you’re shuddering, clinging to him. His hand digs in harder, talons piercing the soft skin of your ass, scaly palm forcing your cunt against his mouth until you feel the sting of sharpened teeth against your mound.

Even though his teeth sting your pulsing flesh, even though his licks are too fast to be completely pleasurable, you feel yourself grow slick around his tongue. Your head falls back against the wall and you begin to pant, heart beating so fast that you start to feel faint, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

His forked tongue reaches impossibly deep within you. The fleshy muscle feels wrong but also so good, skin fading from soft pink to greenish-black, its texture rough and bumpy, stimulating you from more directions than you have ever felt at once.

He licks all the way to your cervix—a thing no mere mortal man could ever do to you—greedily biting, sucking, and growling against your throbbing, abused pussy until finally you come with a pitiful, worn-out scream.

You feel his ice-cold lips pull into a smile as he breathes, “Good human. Now give me another—or three more. Maybe five.”

DAMIAN WAYNE 🦇

You go to the guardian of an ancient library for help but, poor you, the sphinx’s riddles prove too challenging for you. In accordance with the legends, you expect to be smited on the spot, or at least banished, but instead—the sphinx shifts to his human form and decides that you are his.

How lucky it is that Damian decides he likes you enough to keep you captive instead of simply killing you as punishment. How lucky it is that he is clever enough to find a use for your frail human form. How lucky it is that he doesn’t find mating with you as repulsive as he originally thought.

“At least work for it,” he drawls, stifling a yawn while he leans back on the emerald-green settee. His arms are spread, powerful shoulders and biceps making him look even bigger than he already is. No, he never touches you—that would be demeaning—but he does offer you the privilege of riding his cock until you make yourself come.

You close your eyes and drive your hips forward and down, trying to strike the spot inside you that only he can reach. No sooner than your eyes flutter closed, though, he snaps his fingers in front of you.

“Look at me, pet.” His head rests on the back of the chair, lips parted with every breath that makes his chest slowly rise and fall. His face looks warm and you wonder what it might feel like to kiss those plush lips—but you’re also coherent enough to realize that he’s measuring his breaths on purpose.

You’re getting to him. You think. You hope. Maybe if you please him, he’ll let you go.

He shifts his hips up and you cry out, nearly losing your balance on his powerful thighs, but a warm hand suddenly cups your ass to drag you back into place. He leans forward, stomach flexing, and murmurs in your ear, “Can’t even do this without help, can you? Useless little human.”

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #🌸— mine.#🌸— bruce wayne.#🌸— dick grayson.#🌸— jason todd.#🌸— tim drake.#🌸— damian wayne.#🌕— dark content.

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draconic-desire · 1 month

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hiiiii ive been brainrotting abt sunday and his triple face god thing abababah thinking abt him handcuffing reader and interrogating them with the truth thing he does to aventurine ARGHH omg questioning abt who they were with cos hes jealousssss AUGH you dont have to write anything off of this i just hope this inspires you ily

oh you have read my MIND. I’m currently in the middle of writing a fic with dr ratio interrogating reader like he did with mx. stellaron…but now imagining that with sunday?? wow.

i’m totally normal about this man. i swear.

Yan!Sunday x Gn!Reader

Fingers drum on the table, the only break in the suffocating silence engulfing the room.

“I’ll ask you one. Last. Time.” Sunday punctuates each word with another tap of his finger, and you gasp as you feel the Harmony sink its influence another inch further into your skull.

Despite the futility, despite knowing you’ve been trying the same thing over and over again for the past half an hour, you pull at your restraints. The metal chain of the handcuffs skitters along the table, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, but it does not budge from its steel attachment. You’re firmly and inescapably chained to the table in Sunday’s office, with said perpetrator sitting opposite.

He appears calm, but you’ve learned to notice the slight twitch of his eye, the falter in his normal smirk. His patience is one wrong answer away from shattering.

At your silence, he leans back in his chair, shaking his head. His golden gaze is chastising, almost disappointed. “Angel, you know I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me who you were with.”

You only glare at him in response. Bullshit. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s forced truths out of you or affections upon you through the Harmony. The psychedelic pest in your brain is almost the norm by now, a poison he has slowly been feeding you.

Oh, Triple Faced-Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.

Those words are branded into the flesh of your brain, your soul. And tonight, if you tell him what he wants, even more blood will be spilled.

Sunday’s jealously is as calculating as he is. It’s a knife poised at the right angle to spear you, to pin you with accusations that you can’t talk your way out of.

Like in this instance, where he has deluded himself into thinking you are trying to leave him. He’s finally let you out of Dewlight Pavilion (you’ve learned that trying to escape the dreamscape is pointless, so you’ll take your freedoms when you can), and this is the first reaction you’re met with? Being dragged to his office as soon as you returned and invaded, prodded, and violated by the Harmony?

The pressure around your temples tightens another fraction, and you cannot stop the pained cry that escapes you. Rainbow streaks cloud your vision and practically pull the words from your mouth. “I was with friends! We were at the Dreamjolt Hosterly for a couple drinks, that’s it!”

Sunday merely hums as he stands and pads towards you, taking a position at your back. You’re unable to turn around to face him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the promise of his power, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck.

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in and whispers, “Liar.”

One word chills your blood to ice. “I’m not!”

The grip around your neck tightens in tandem with the pressure in your head. “Do you really think you can evade me, (Y/n)? My gales are perched in every region of Penacony, and THEY are by my side. THEY see all, hear all, know all.”

As if on cue, the Harmony rips through your consciousness, and it takes all your willpower not to pass out. Exhausted, you involuntarily lean back into Sunday’s hand, which seems to please him. “Now, tell me the name of the man who dared to touch what is mine.”

Clenching your eyes shut, you shake your head. You’re out of breath and stumbling along your words. “He was just being friendly, and he was drunk, we all were, and all he did was kiss my cheek; it was a dare, and I swear to you, Sunday, we’re just friends—”

“(Y/n),” Sunday interrupts. “His name.”

The finality in the Family head’s words sends your heart plummeting. You feel your resolve slip as the Harmony tightens its grip and goes in for the kill. You speak the name aloud, barely a whisper, and know that you’ve just delivered the man’s fate.

In your half-conscious state, you barely register Sunday removing your cuffs and scooping you into his arms. He tucks you into his chest bridal-style, his wings fluttering across your face. “You did well, my angel.”

“Please,” you breathe, your voice wobbly with tears, even as you feel the Harmony retreat from your senses—for now. “Don’t hurt him.”

Sunday merely leans his head down to place a kiss along your temple. “Enough of that,” he scolds. “The only man you should be thinking about is me. After all, it is an angel’s duty to obey their god without question.”

And Sunday is, if anything, a vengeful god.

For that night was the last that you ever saw your friend. Death in dreams was your only reality.

#yandere sunday #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere #yandere headcanons #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere male #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai sr #hsr

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hier--soir · 5 months

Text

night breeze

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes. warnings/tags: established relationship, consensual somnophilia, oral [f receiving], joel loves when you wear his clothes, premature ejaculation, reader wears joel's clothes; body type is not described explicitly but his boxers are described as "snug" on her thighs. word count: 1.8k masterlist follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is envisioned as a part of the ALP universe [set between 7 and 8] but it can be read as a stand alone.

The air is calm at dusk.

Soft and sweet against your skin, the smell of salt in your nostrils.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of purples and pinks and blues, and a slick orange sun drips and wanes until its belly kisses the ocean. Lower, lower, until the sky spins navy and the water pitches black. You float in that black darkness, unbothered by the heavy swells that rise and roll beneath you. The water is rocky and rough, though the waves never seem to break. Too far from the shore, they simply build and build, with no end in sight.

And the water should be icy, cold enough to chill you to the bone and set you shivering, but you just feel hot. A searing, stuffy heat that clings even as you float over the rolling masses, letting them lap at your neck and face. Humid and dry, you want nothing more than for the water to suck you in deeper. Down, down, until your body is covered, and your hair is a floating halo, and you are finally cool.

Yet as time passes, you find that it is not the water that is warm, but you. That stifling sticky sun that sank beneath the horizon now burns at the centre of you, red hot and raging, ready to rise again already.

You try to smother it, to tamp it down. Tangle your legs on the water’s surface and hold your breath, but it burns still. A scorching scratch at the inside of your skin, your skull, your chest cavity. And something crawls its way up through your chest now. Something loose-limbed and drowsy, working its way past your stomach, your lungs, your throat, your—

A ragged moan wakes you.

Your fingers twitch and tighten, gripping soft sheets. Eyes roll behind lids as you drift slowly into consciousness. The air in his bedroom is cold, but in the haze of your sleep-addled brain you can’t quite pinpoint why you’re so warm. Face down on a pillow, you blink lazily and start to piece together what’s happening.

Your shirt—Joel’s shirt—clings to your skin. Sweat beads along the skin of your back, soaking into the thin fabric. The waistband of his boxers is forgiving, resting against the soft flesh beneath your belly button, though the hem of each leg is snug around your thighs. Oh, your thighs…. something sturdy holds them apart.

Two solid weights pressing against the inside of your legs, spreading them wide across the bed. A third weight against the small of your back… a hand. Fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, bunching the material at the base of your spine, keeping your stomach flush to the bed. Another moan startles you, sharpens your mind a little. Your tongue feels heavy, mind a slow blur as you realise that the sound came from your own mouth. And as that understanding sinks in, you finally feel it.

Something hot and wet, lapping at the dark fabric shielding your cunt. And you’re wet. Fucking hell, you’re so wet it’s near uncomfortable. The sopping material clings to your folds, a persistent tongue pressing it in deeper, soaking the material in your slick juices as they drip from you. You gasp, trying fruitlessly to turn your head and see over your shoulder in the darkness.

“S’me,” he says then, and his voice is a pained, haggard thing. Rough and wanton with desire, with need, muffled from how his face is buried between your thighs. “S’just me… fuck, m’sorry.”

“Joel,” you rasp, breathless as his tongue glances over your clit through his boxers. He groans and then the thick point of his nose is pressing between your cheeks, nudging at your covered asshole. The pressure there sharpens your senses to a point, and sends a surprised moan peeling from your throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just let me…” Joel inhales deeply, cursing under his breath when you lazily rut your sex back against his face.

“Jesus Christ,” you whimper. When you move your face, something damp tickles your cheek. Saliva, pooling out the side of your open mouth and leaving a small damp circle on his pillow. Embarrassment warms your face, but the sound of Joel moaning against your cunt is a welcome distraction.

Muscular shoulders keep your thighs wide open, and he mouths shamelessly at the material, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach, and it suddenly makes sense why you feel like you’re on the edge already. The boxers must be ruined; slick and spit mix together to soak the entirety of the fabric until it clings to your swollen skin.

“H-how… fuck, Joel, how long have you—”

“Don’t know,” he mumbles. “Twenty minutes? Fuck, I don’t—”

Lewd sucking noises fill the room and the muscles in your abdomen go rigid, mouth hanging wide open as his fingers curl around the gusset of the boxers, dragging them to the side. You moan and squirm against the bed as he dips his tongue between your folds, gliding it through the sloppy messy of you. His sounds match yours; hot exhales billowing against your exposed skin and sending goosebumps sprouting across the backs of your thighs.

Joel pulls back for a minute. Keeps the material pulled to the side, allowing the cool night air to dance across the scorching skin between your legs while he watches you drip for him.

“Got home late,” he apologises, and you twitch as his breath hits your centre. He’s still so close. “Jimmy needed help with somethin’ and I—fuck, it doesn’t matter, but you were so perfect. My good girl, all tucked up in my bed, wearin’ my fuckin’ clothes, just waitin’ for me.”

“Tried to stay awake.” You hum softly, trying to inch yourself back against his face. But Joel just tuts, and you feel a sharp sting as he nips at the skin of your thigh. You pout against his pillow, body going lax and pliant once more. “Wanted to fall asleep with you.”

“I know,” he soothes, licking over where his teeth marks mar your flesh. His lips dance higher and higher until his tongue flicks into your hole. He swears low, resting his forehead against the soft plush of your ass. “But this? Comin’ home to this… fuckin’ luckiest man in the world, I tell ya.”

It's slow and steady when he lets his mouth fall upon you again. Soft little licks around your lips, tracing the dips and folds of your labia, mapping out every inch of you before his tongue dares graze against your clit. And when he does finally make contact, you jolt and whimper, already acutely aware of that familiar tingle in your spine.

Unable to reach him, your fingers tangle uselessly in his sheets, entirely at his mercy as he devours you from behind. Thick thumbs spread you open for his eyes to see, keeping you apart as he licks broad strokes up the entirety of your cunt before lathing languid open-mouthed kisses against it. Hot and wet and needy, his moans vibrate through you, letting you know he loves this just as much as you. Maybe even more.

Your clit pulses against his tongue, alive with a throbbing heartbeat of its own. And with every swipe and glide and circle you feel that heat swirl stiffer in your belly, the wave building and building. You can feel the way your hole, painfully empty, clenches over and over around nothing but air, winking at him and begging for more.

The slippery sounds of your arousal fill the room once more and soon enough you’re keening his name beneath your breath, spurring him on as you imagine the way it must shine on his beard, his lips, even in the darkness.

“Please,” you mewl, drooling against his pillow still, vaguely aware of your saliva gliding down your neck, thick and viscous. “Joel, fuck me, I want it, want you—”

“I will,” he swears, but you can feel how rapt he is by this. How every facet of his attention is trained on keeping his mouth on your pussy, his tongue rubbing firm circles around your clit just how you like. He gasps and pants against you, nodding a little, groaning when his nose glides through your folds and your scent coats his nostrils. “I will, I will, I just need you like this a little longer. I will. Promise.”

His grip is tender against the crease of your thighs, fingers digging in right where your leg meets the flesh of your ass as he eats at you. And you can tell by the way his noises deepen, turning guttural and depraved, that he won’t be making good on that promise tonight. Know it from the way his face ruts forward into your core every few seconds that he must be grinding his leaking cock against the mattress, feverish and desperate for relief. And the mere thought of it, of him hot and hard, straining inside his pants, has the muscles in your legs going taut.

Joel murmurs your name, so soft under his breath. His long tongue dips inside of you and then strokes up to flick against your clit, and finally you dissolve under his mouth.

The orgasm flows through you much like the waves in your dream. Joel coaxes it out from deep in your stomach until you’re a wet trembling mess beneath him; nothing but a rolling mass of waves for the sticky sun to sink into. Warm and wet, the high laps at your body from every angle until the edges of your mind are fuzzy, molten heat drooling from your cunt and onto his grateful tongue as he groans.

He doesn’t let up those soft swirls of his tongue until your hips are twitching away and you’re whining his name, and begging him to come up here. And so he crawls up your body, movements slow and sleepy as he drops heavily against your back. Thick thighs bracket your own, and that scruffy chin sits against the slope of your shoulder as he presses a kiss and a drowsy mumble of hey baby behind your ear.

“That was nice.” You smile when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. Curious, you work a hand between your back and his chest, fingers trailing down until you reach the damp spot at the front of his trousers. He exhales roughly, hips jerking backward, sensitive. “Fuck, did you come?”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his smile sheepish and shy against your skin. You laugh, heart swelling and eyes falling shut as you let him tip you onto your side and pull you back against his chest. A broad palm snakes over your hip, fingers dancing beneath the band of the boxers to rest against your skin, and he squeezes the flesh there greedily. “Gonna fuck you in the mornin’,” he vows.

You hum, already half asleep again despite how chilled your skin turns as your sweat cools. “Gonna wake me up with your cock inside me, hm?”

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah, baby. I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“S’a promise.”

thank you for reading x

#my writing #fic: night breeze #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ALP #somnophilia #cw consensual somnophilia

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 month

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“I’m right here.” — feyd rautha x reader

Summary: you get injured while combat training and Feyd kills your instructor for causing it

Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader

Word count: 884

Warnings: Feyd fluff. Graphic violence, killing, blood, stab wounds depicted, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stood in the training grounds, sweat dripping down your forehead as you faced your instructor. Ever since marrying Feyd, you had been keen on improving your combat skills. You were a good fighter already, but Rabban had laughed at you once, calling you a fair fighter. That stuck with you. You didn’t want your fights to be fair. You wanted to be ruthless and brutal like the Harkonnen were known for. Feyd insisted that you did not need improve and that he would never let you be caught in a situation where you’d ever need to employ your already strong combat skills. Feyd as a husband though, was incredibly doting and indulgent, and whatever his wife wanted, he made sure his wife got.

Your fighting instructor was one of the (particularly stern) Harkonnen wards. Feyd liked to attend your training sessions whenever he could. He watched from the sidelines, two of his subordinates either side of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed your every move. He monitored your progress, but more importantly, was there also in case anything happened to you.

“Again,” the instructor barked, lifting his dagger to strike.

You ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the blow. Your heart raced as you lunged at him, your own blade flashing in the sunlight. The Harkonnens were known for their ruthless fighting style, and you couldn't afford to be caught off guard.

You parried his attack, the clang of metal ringing out in the arena. The dance of combat ensued, each strike and parry leaving Feyd impressed. As you sparred, you felt a sharp pain in your side. A piercing shriek rang from your lips, you cried as you reeled over in pain, the sound echoing off the walls of the arena as you stumbled to the ground. Feyd was by your side in an instant, getting you onto your back, cradling your head in his lap. You screamed and cried, your vision swimming with tears as you fought to stay conscious.

“Just breathe,” he murmured in between your screeching, “just breathe.”

The sound of your cry, especially one of pain, was the worst sound he could ever be subjected too. Like how a mother reacts to her baby’s cry, it was horrid, not because of your voice, but because he felt this unyielding compulsion to put an end to its cause in an instant.

He had one hand at the top of your head, holding it steady against his thighs. The other hand, he had firmly gripped on your chin, holding your head so you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your wound, your vision pointed directly up at his face. Feyd knew that your injury was not that deep, nor in a fatal position. He knew he wouldn’t have made so much of a peep if he received the same one. If you were his student he would have punished you for reacting to your wound. That was irrelevant, though. He didn’t need you to be as good of a fighter as him. He just needed you to be okay.

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. The pain was intense, like a searing hot knife cutting through your flesh. You could feel the warmth of your own blood seeping through your training clothes.

As the sound of hurried footsteps of medics and doctors approached, Feyd's demeanor shifted, his gaze hardening into steel.

"You are okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I’m right here.”

He rose to his feet, his movements fluid and purposeful as he approached your instructor with a rumbling snarl.

"Women are not fighters," he spat as Feyd approached him.

“You commit treason,” Feyd growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You are weak."

With a swift motion, Feyd drew his blade, the metal glinting ominously in the light. Before anyone could react, Feyd struck, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Blood sprayed across the arena as the instructor's throat was slit open, a gurgled scream escaping his lips before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Feyd stood over the instructor's lifeless body, his blade still in hand. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of fear in them. But then it was gone, replaced by a fierce determination.

“You will heal quickly, you are strong. I will protect you,” he said, his voice fierce.

And you knew he meant it. Feyd Rautha, the Harkonnen heir, had just killed one of his own to protect you. You had been cut free of your clothing, your wound was tended to, cleaned and stitched up and injected with pain killers in a matter of minutes, exactly the way the Harkonnen medics were trained to do. Feyd watched over as they did so. You could feel his hand on yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“I'm here,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. He shook his head, arguing your apology.

Feyd was right, you did heal quickly. With his care and the help of healing baths, despite them being slightly disgusting. Feyd also made the decision that when you had healed, he would be your mentor, as he no longer trusted any of his wards to be.

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tremendum · 1 year

Text

where to start

(gif not mine) pairing: din djarin x afab!reader (gender not specified, descriptions of afab genitalia) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) requested: yes, here !!! word count: 2.7k summary: Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start." warnings: SMUT. there’s like no plot. teasing, PiV (unprotected), Din has a praise kink, he begs, inexperience, loss of virginity, brief allusion to rough sex if you squint, yall cant convince me Din isn’t a stuttering little mess, riding in the pilot’s seat!!, sliiiight dom!reader, slight discussion of Din being ashamed he’s a virgin, idk what else tbh notes: thank u for requesting this! i just wrote it in like 30 mins haha. i hope yall like it i love my space cowboy boyfriend <3 this is unedited. reblogs/comments always motivate me hehe

[other din fic din series (be like me): masterlist ]

★

you stare at the cold metal in front of you.

it stares back silently.

your hand is itching to just go knock, to raise a few inches and rap your knuckles upon its shimmering, textured surface; it'll be so simple. so easy, definitely one of the easier things you've ever done.

but the conversation that awaits on the other side- well.

that's not so simple.

"why don't you go over there, Din?" a glint of beskar as his head whips to you, alarmed. thrown off. a head tilt of irritation, "excuse me?" a raise of your eyebrows, "oh, sorry, didn't realize we were playing innocent." you jut your chin towards the young woman who stands, twirling her hair and making bedroom eyes at Din from across the bar. jealousy curls up your throat - he'd been staring in her direction since you'd arrived, too. "come on, she's been staring at you the whole time. go- go do your thing."

"that isn't funny." he mutters, causing the chilled pint of ale between your fingers to sear you as you flush. tough crowd. "why do you assume I'm joking, hm?" you tilt your head again and he shakes his head. it's painful, the way you and Mando have been dancing around each other for weeks. a brush of a leather hand on the small of your back, a kind chuckle at something you say, your hands soothing over the thick cowl that hides his sore knots - the ones that form in his shoulders from carrying the jetpack - a murmur of your name when you're in danger, the curling of your hand around his arm in crowded public spaces. you're sure it's torture, but it seems neither one of you can make the move.

"she's not looking at me like- like anything." he dismisses, arms curling over themselves in a cross of defense. you hum a laugh; who wouldn't look at Mando like that?

"oh, c'mon. jus'go up and talk to her. she's probably dying for a big man like you to toss her around." you elbow him, winking. a slick, regretting coil of envy curls around your stomach as you take in the way his helmet tilts from you back to her; what the fuck are you doing? you silently beat yourself up, cheeks hot with the swirling complacency that befalls you following several drinks of ale. you sound like a complete moof milker as you let yourself encourage Mando to- to what, pursue another woman?

how does that make sense to your brain?

there's an echoing thud as Din slams his fist hard on the bartop. you jump, eyes wide as he shakes his head, turning to stalk straight out the doors, leaving you behind in his anger.

yeah. the wall has never been so daunting before.

you know you upset him earlier. he's been cooped up inside his bunk the whole night after you returned alone from the cantina, and no matter how much you've tried to ignore it, you know that it's your fault that you've made him angry.

your fist raises.

the metal whooshes before you can make contact, though, and your eyes meet the hard chest of beskar before you can take a step back. a soft oh leaves your lips as his helmet tilts microscopically down towards you for a moment; he's pushing hard past you with a fierce silence and without a second glance in your direction.

"wait!" you call as he disappears up into the cockpit, the silence sterile in the Crest as he stalks out of view. you chew your lip as you scramble to follow him, knowing you at least owe it to him to apologize for what you'd said.

he's sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as you soon start to engage in liftoff protocols; a thudding jolt as the Crest lifts off sends you stumbling into the chair as you stare, wide-eyed, shocked at Mando's abrupt behavior. he didn't even warn you that he was preparing your next track.

you try; you really do. seven different attempts - yes, you counted them - to get him to speak, casually commenting on the smoothness of the Crest after your last maintenance day, asking him if he remembered the coolant you'd forgotten a few cycles ago, telling him about Grogu catching a flying-Banda and swallowing it whole mid-air; stupid shit.

all you got in response was silence.

a sigh, maybe - his helmet wouldn't turn anywhere near you, and your glare cuts through the glinting on his head as stars race above you. it was just like when you'd first met, agreeing to go with him and work maintenance or grogu-sit when he needed it, and existing in weeks of silent tension, the man surrounded in so many walls that he could be armor-less and still the most impenetrable person in the galaxy.

he was cold. you'd pushed him back into the shell you'd spent months working to chip away.

"Din." you say flatly, crossing your arms. he doesn't respond; not even a huff, or a grunt, or a movement of muscle to indicate he heard the word.

"look, I just- I want to apologize. okay?" you say desperately, shaking your head. but he catches you off guard yet again as he speaks up, voice heavy and more hot than normal; like he's been stewing with his thoughts for far too long.

"-I don't want some random woman. I don't just sleep with anybody because I think they're attractive." his voice moves through the cockpit in defiance and you sit back in your chair, blinking for a moment. oh.

you clear your throat, unsure how to approach what he's said; a sick, twisted part of you scowls at his insinuation that he'd found the woman from the bar attractive; but of course he did. she was. and you're unable, still, to deny the throbbing ache of desire that dully spreads through you at the very dim prospect that you are not just a random woman to him.

"I was out of line. I over-stepped." you try again.

"do you think I'm upset that you teased me back at the cantina?" he clips, taking you off-guard. your brows furrow, tilting your head, "y-yes?" it comes out like a question of your own, in your doubt.

he sighs. the weight of it smashes you back as you furrow your brows; he will not go into another bout of silence again, you won't let him. no.

"what is it, Din?" you ask gently, leaning your elbows onto your knees.

he breathes out, hand twitching by his side. "I just-"

you're not sure what spurs his sudden admission; be it from frustration or a genuine desire to confide in you, his only companion besides a 50-year-old baby.

"I don't have- I don't have much experience." he admits, voice laced with embarrassment. he sounds much more unsure of himself than normal. "because of the Creed- I have lived differently than others."

oh. oh.

you flood with emotion, eyes flying wide. "oh, Din-" you feel like you're on fire in embarrassment, shaking your head in regret, "I'm- I didn't even think about that. I shouldn't have-"

"please," he almost whimpers it, "stop."

you do.

he lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, hands on his lap. "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start."

you nod, throat dry. his composure, the sweet genuine tilt in his voice; your underwear slicks as you wait for him to continue. the air feels... thick with anticipation.

he's breathing more shallowly, his hands gripping his beskar thighs as he keeps your gaze. "I don't...know how to get what I want from..." he stops, his helmet fully facing you. your words are dead on your tongue as you stare at him; your heart thunders as you beg him to say it.

"from you." he finishes, body still as he awaits your reaction.

heat spreads through your entire body as you stare at him, fire licking your fingertips. he wants- he wants you. he wants you.

you swallow your fears in one sentence, "have you considered... asking?"

your voice has it's desired effect. his chest almost shivers as he lets out a soft breath, hands clenching as you stand from your seat to walk, slowly, towards his chair. you're more than thankful you'd had the thought to change from your hunting clothes; your shorts, breezy and loose, sit barely below the curve of your ass and you don't miss the way Din's helmet moves with the sway of your hips.

his helmet tilts to stare up at you when you set your hands on each side of his arm rests, leaning in close. you can smell his scent as you smile sweetly, "I would say yes, you know." you whisper next to his helmet as he lets out a strangled noise.

it’s a split second before he shakily groans. "I want you." he finally gasps, "I need you."

you let out your own shaky breath as arousal floods your underwear, arousal swirling in your stomach. "I want you too, Din." you press a soft kiss to his forehead, the cool beskar tingling your heated, desiring lips.

his hands remain clenched until you slide yourself onto his lap, settling yourself to straddle him in the pilot's chair, a fantasy you've imagined almost every night since you've met the man. you don't even suggest removing the beskar; he deserves to be comfortable as possible, and you flush when you realize you like the sharp bite of the metal on your bare skin.

your hands explore the long, sturdy planes of his chest and neck, over the ruched material, threads loose under the tips of your fingers, armor cold. you can feel him under your aching heat; he's already semi-hard, his breath falling from his helmet in breathy grunts as you slowly, gently rock against him. "you can touch me, Din."

it's like he's snapped to life; hands fly up to your hips, tugging your chest impossibly close as he mutters into your ear, "fuck, cyare."

it starts slow; your bodies glued to each other, exploring every inch you'd desire to discover before, the blue-electric lights of hyperspace coaxing the two of you into a dreamlike state.

but he gets desperate quick.

he's groaning, straining hard and thick against his flightsuit; as your hand falls to palm him as you rock your clothed clit over the material, you're momentarily concerned that if you aren't warmed up before taking him, he may not fit. "you're so big, Din." you whisper as your lips flutter along the seam of skin exposed between his helmet and cowl. he lets out a moan of your name, one hand pulling you by your back towards him, the other digging into the plush of your ass, sneaking under the fabric of your sleep shorts.

"cyare, please-" he gasps, voice begging, "need to- need to be inside you."

you smile, kissing the hot skin of his pressure point, tongue slinking up as his heart pounds. "there, that's how you ask, Din."

you press another kiss to him, your hands moving to undo his flight suit, pulling his thick cock out; he ruts upwards with a sharp moan, hand digging into your ass so hard it may leave marks.

pre-cum leaks out of him in beads; he's so goddamn hard, whimpering at your touch. you feel your slick dampen your thighs through your underwear, shivering with desire.

you pull your underwear to the side swiftly, rising onto your knees as he stables your hips up above him. his chest sputters, grunting as you start to move your hips, teasing him with your velvety wet cunt.

broken grunts of Mando'a leave his helmet, his fists tightening as his helmet falls back to thud against the back of his pilot's chair. "please, mesh'la, please." he mutters.

you can't wait any longer; soon you're shifting, prodding yourself over his head, gently taking just a bit of him inside you. your gasps are in tandem at the tight, warm stretch; "Din, y'gonna fill me up so well."

he moans at that, hands rising to hold your shoulders, his thick, muscled arms swallowing your frame as he hums, "fu-uck, n-need you mesh'la."

you nod, your breath fogging up his helmet as you desperately shift your hips, preparing to take him into you. and then slowly, you let your legs relax slightly.

"M-Maker-" Din stutters, the weight of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly lower yourself; his cock, thick and warm, eases you open gently, the pain of his stretch curling your toes in your boots. “yes,” you hiss, swallowing dryly as your hands, stabilizing themselves on his neck and shoulder, grip tight.

you have to ease yourself down onto him; his hips buck up harshly, as if he can't help himself, his tip sheathing so far into you that it prods at your tender cervix, causing you to yelp in pleasure.

"s-sorry." he mutters, hands shaking as he holds on to you, "can't-f-fuck, it feels so- you feel so warm. y'so tight. ’m not gonna-"

you nod desperately, starting to move yourself, fucking him slow as his hands hold you.

"feels good. you're so good, you're so good for me." you mutter, causing his cock to twitch deep inside you. he moans loud as you mutter praises, his cock so deep; dragging through your walls, hitting an angle which nudges that delicious spot inside you.

a groan of your name has you smiling as you suck a mark dark onto his neck; you start to build up the pace, the simmering arousal soon spurring you to chase the building pleasure.

"yes, yes." you nod, peppering kisses over his throat, nails clawing to expose more of the forbidden, golden skin. you feel him clench below you; his hard, cold thighs tense under the beskar, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under the protection as the lewd noise of your connection echoes through the cockpit.

he's close, you know it.

you want him to cum, you want him to be consumed by it; you want him to consume you, you want to consume him. you tug him as you maintain your pace, legs burning as you chase your own orgasm.

"y'gonna cum, Din?" your voice is laced sultry and aroused, fogging his helmet as he nods, broken moans of ecstasy leaving his helmet. "yes, f-fuck- I-"

"yes, cum, baby." you mutter, his hips soon spurring to thrust up and meet your own movements, the pet name making him shiver. you let out a yell, cracking with pleasure as he holds you immediately to you, his whimpers echoing with your moans.

he finishes with a moan of your name and a slam of his fist hard onto the console next to you; all of the lights in the cockpit shut off at his action but you can barely notice as his orgasm paints your channel, hot and thick. you're out of breath as he rides out his high, ropes of cum filling you.

he twitches inside of you as you stutter to a stop, your wetness causing a stain on his flightsuit below you.

his head lifts from your shoulder, voice wrecked, chest panting. "you didn't- you didn't finish." he sounds confused, embarrassed.

you flush at his statement - he just had sex for the first time, and is disappointed you didn't cum? you let your hands rub soothing circles over the parts of his shoulders that aren't covered with armor.

"n-no, Din- that was 'bout you." you sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to the contoured beskar of his cheek. "we have next time." you ensure him, gasping as his hips still rock up into you gently, his softening cock pushing his cum deeper inside of you; holding it there.

keeping him inside you.

he stiffens, head rising to look at you. "no." he mutters, his hands dragging down your spine, catching on your hips, sliding back up to grope your breasts. "show me how to make you cum now. please, mesh'la."

another rush of arousal floods you, shivers running down your body as you grin with a flush. resisting a loud moan of desire, you nod gently. "okay."

requests open

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader smut #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars #din #din x reader #din x reader smut #tremendum’s space cowboy✒️

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

Text

im ngl i've been driving myself insane with the thought of harboring Ghost in your home. Like in the 09 mission The Hornet's Nest where Roach falls off the one roof?

Yeah, make that Ghost and there's no other choice but for the guys to leave him behind. The LZ is too hot, the enemies are swarming like moths to a flame.

The floor comes to him.

He grits his teeth at the agony, choking back a scream. Ghost just fell off a height that should've broken at least a couple ribs; maybe they did, he doesn't know, there's too much adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He's seeing duplicates, the buildings in front of him blurred. There's buzzing in his head, loud like bees. His chest aches, it burns with the lack of oxygen. His throat feels swollen as he wheezes; each breath feels like shards of glass in his lungs.

The white noise dissipates slowly. His vision realigns, lines and details sharpening. The unseen force that squeezed his throat finally lets go, setting him free from its deadly hold., his chest expanding to the point of discomfort— deep inhale, loud exhale.

Breathe. Focus.

There's radio chatter in his ear— Price snarling at Nikolai to fucking wait, that they can't leave him there in the hornet's nest but even with his vision blurred, Ghost can see that they're getting lit up, and he's not gonna have the entire team blow to bits in the helo over him.

He's just one man, and there's a whole world to save.

There's a searing pain in his arm when he shifts, he can't remember the last time his eyes welled up with tears, but fuckin' hell does it hurt.

His hand trembles violently, and it takes him a couple of tries to finally get his thumb to firmly press down on the button of the radio in the front of his tac vest.

"Leave me! Just go!" he roars.

Price argues back that no man is to be left behind, but Ghost can hear far too many voices in a different language get louder. They'll be killed hovering in the air like that.

"Price! Go!"

The voices in his ear are deafening. He rips off his headset, letting it sit around his neck.

The helicopter above him disappears.

Good.

The avalanche of footsteps gets closer and with a strangled noise that scrapes the back of his throat, he moves. Move to safety, get away from them, hide.

Ghost pushes forward until he stumbles, falling onto one knee— using his injured arm to stabilize. White hot pain licks from the wrist up, flames threatening to consume him whole.

A few stray tears escape the corners of his eyes.

He's too blinded by the throbbing in his body to realize that someone is grabbing his other arm.

"Can you hear me?"

Ghost thinks he might be hallucinating your voice. His agony is transcendent.

"Hey! We don't have much time!"

He turns his head to his left, and there you are. A civilian, by the looks of it. And you're trying to lead him away. Where? Are you leading him to a trap?

"Quickly! They're almost here! I can hide you, but you need to get on your feet!" you piped.

Ghost gets up without a fight, decision-making dulled by everything he's feeling.

"Come on, this way!" Your hand grabs his forearm tightly as you drag him away. He trudges behind you, breathing ragged.

Clarity comes and goes, but then he feels your small palms push him forward, into your tiny home.

His eyes drag as he takes in his surroundings. A tiny television in the living room to his left, and an ugly brown couch placed in front of it. To this right is your kitchen, food still steaming on the stove, and a scratched teak dinner table with just two chairs sits by a dirty window.

Quaint.

"Okay, okay. They shouldn't come in here, but if they do, I want you to go to the bathroom and sit in the tub with the curtain closed. Understand?"

His chin tips forward unbidden.

"Good. Uhm, I saw that your right arm is injured. A makeshift splint will have to do, alright?" You briskly walk away, opening the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink.

Ghost stiffens, swallowing thickly. If you pull anything underhanded, he's going to have to kill you.

The tension melts from his shoulders when he sees that you're simply pulling out a first aid kit, and some other stuff to wrap his most likely broken arm up.

You pull out a chair before opening the kit. "Sit. I'm not standing while I do this."

He huffs but complies. "Yes, ma'am." Unafraid to order a stranger around. How peculiar.

The minutes drag on, each one more agonizing than the last. It's a relentless cycle of pain... until it finally stops. The residual pain makes him dry heave.

"Whoa there, please don't puke."

Ghost gives a pained chuckle. "I'll try."

Your fingers tighten the knot in the fabric. "Can't say it's pristine, but it's better than having your arm dangle uselessly, I think." You stare at your handiwork for a second longer, before rising from your seat.

"I'm not sure who you are, but you look like actual military and not a thug with a gun. Did you have a team?" you quietly ask as you put away the medical supplies.

He cuts his eyes to you and doesn't answer.

"Yeah, I suppose it wouldn't be smart of you to blindly give information I don't need to know."

He shakes his head imperceptibly.

"Right. Well, I'm sure you know that we need to lay low, so unfortunately, that means no tv. Sorry." How cheeky.

Ghost simply hums in response.

He looks down at his injured arm. It's wrapped tightly, enough to keep it from moving but not enough to cut off his blood flow.

Not the work of a regular civilian.

You must've noticed him scrutinizing your work because you speak up. "I've worked in the medical field before. Nothing spectacular, but I can deal with a broken bone or two."

He closes his eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the day creep up on him.

So bloody tired.

Ghost takes a breath and opens his eyes. No rest for the wicked, he thinks.

He puts his headset back on, as well as he can with his one arm.

There's a crackling sound in his ear.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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peacelovepandora · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Here

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

sorry to put some of you through this. ik we're all gonna have war flashbacks to the film with this, but some of you wanted this so here it is.

btw I listened to The Songcord and cried while writing this. if you want a good cry, listen to it while reading lol

TW : bleeding, death

Initially, you hadn't felt the injury. Your only priority was to successfully jump over the railing and follow your brother into the sea. With one hand gripping the railing, you hoisted yourself up, using your limberness to your advantage, before kicking your legs over. Once your upper body followed, you released your grip and allowed yourself to plummet towards the water. Within the time that you fell, you crossed your arms over your chest before straightening your legs and squeezing them together. The position, which was modeled to resemble a spearhead, was meant to help you reach the water faster.

Your pointed feet were the first to spear through the water's surface. Soon after, the rest of your body followed. As the crisp water rose above your head, the cold temperature sent an electrifying shock through your body. However, that shock was quickly replaced with a massive wave of relief.

I made it! you thought to yourself.

Looking up, you saw your eldest brother, Neteyam, break through the water's surface. Like you, he sunk underneath the surface, but not as deeply. After stretching your arms above your head, you lowered them forcefully before kicking your legs, giving yourself the momentum to swim to the surface. Once you'd finally broken through the water, you inhaled deeply--opening your mouth and blinking your eyes rapidly.

"There she is!" Spider exclaimed.

"Good you finally joined us, baby sister!" Neteyam teased, making you turn to him, "You had us worried there for a moment!"

"Well, I actually dived in with the correct positioning to go deeper, big brother!" you teased back, swimming closer to him, "You just cannonballed in like a child."

"Hard to make those quick decisions when you're getting shot at," he replied with a smirk before placing a hand on your head, "but I admire your quick thinking."

"Hello? Are we gonna get out of here or not?" Lo'ak stressed, raising his hands in exasperation, "In case you can't tell, we're not out of here, yet."

Neteyam nodded. "You're right. Let's go find Dad."

You smiled, preparing to swim alongside your brothers when a sharp burning sensation pierced through the middle of your chest. The searing sensation came suddenly, and its intensity increased immediately. This ache, this red hot fire--which had initially been burning your chest--began to move through you before igniting a prickling pain in your back.

Releasing a gasp, you looked down at your chest, hoping that it was a simple fluke. However, after you lowered your gaze to your skin, ice ran through your veins.

It was unmistakeable. Even if you'd tried to convince yourself that your eyes were playing tricks on you, the red liquid that was seeping into the water proved otherwise.

The shock of the sight produced a domino effect, and it quickly impaired your entire body. Treading water, something you'd been doing so mindlessly before, suddenly became a challenge. The air, which you had been effortlessly breathing into your lungs, became much harder to consume. Everything seemed to come to a standstill as you stared at the red river, which started just below your collarbone, emptying into the blue sea. When the redness reached the blueness, it spread out, refusing to dissolve and disappear. It remained constant as it made its way around your body, sealing your fate.

"Y/N?" Lo'ak called, turning around when he noticed your lack of movement.

Upon hearing Lo'ak's call, Neteyam turned around, as well. Since he was the closest to you, he was the first to begin swimming back to you. As he grew closer, his gaze grew uneasy as he took in your expression.

"Baby sister, what's wrong?" he asked, reaching you before placing a hand on your shoulder, "Come on, we must go."

Your eyes, which had temporarily locked with his, dropped back down to your chest. This time, he followed your gaze. When alarm overtook his expression, you knew that you weren't hallucinating things.

"Oh no," he breathed, "Shit! Lo'ak! You skxawng! Get over here now! Spider, you too!"

The world was moving at a slower pace than usual. At least, that's how it looked to you. The slow movement of Neteyam wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing his palm against your wound. Lo'ak and Spider splashing through the water, swimming back to you with frantic eyes.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" Lo'ak shouted, closing the distance between all of you.

However, he answered his own question by looking at Neteyam's hand on your chest, and the red liquid seeping through his fingers.

"She's hit!" Neteyam stressed, "We have to go now!"

Lo'ak cupped your head before turning away and clicking his tongue. Spider replaced his hand on your head while Lo'ak set up his ilu, preparing to lift you onto its back. Your gaze grew blank as your panic reflex wore off and it manifested into a weighted acceptance.

"Baby sister!" your brother's voice called, "Baby sister!"

Neteyam's face grew in and out of focus. Processing your surroundings, you realized that you were laying across his lap. Spider and Lo'ak were holding on to the front ends of the ilu, and you were moving through the water.

A hand was placed on your cheek, forcing you to turn your head.

"Look at me!" your brother's voice demanded, "You're going to be alright!"

An instinct within you wanted to nod, but your body resisted, deeming that as too difficult of a task. Instead, you released an incoherent moan.

Leaning your head back, you let your eyes focus on the eclipsing sun. It would be dark soon. As you processed the darkening sky, your mind wandered to home. The forest, which lived and breathed on its own, always seemed to reach its climax at eclipse. The swaying tendrils of the tree of souls glowed with an unprecedented luminescence. Fan lizards and seed spirits delicately danced through the sky, never passing by without briefly landing on your skin. Their gentle touch filled you with an all-embracing aura.

"Dad! It's Y/N! She's hurt!"

You were jolted out of your vision as you felt yourself being moved again. With drooping eyelids, you tried to fight the increasing fatigue that was overwhelming your body.

"Watch her head, bro! Watch her head!"

The echoing voices grew clearer as you forced your eyes open. A large body hopped over your head before settling itself by your right side. The body reached out, gripping your shoulders before gently tipping your body and rolling you on your side.

"Oh no," the body breathed.

As you were rolled back onto your back, your brain processed the voice you'd just heard. When a large hand cupped your cheek, your vision finally cleared. Yellow eyes, tormented by grief, looked back at you. Those familiar yellow eyes, slightly smaller than other members of your family's, caused relief to wash over your body.

"D-Daddy?" you choked out, cutting yourself off with a fit of coughs.

You were shushed as the comforting yellow gaze glossed over.

Tilting his head, Jake's voice cracked as he responded. "It's me, babygirl." His hand moved beneath your head, cupping the back of your neck. "Don't worry. I got you, I got you."

Neteyam, who was sitting on your left side, close to your head, had never lifted his hand from the wound on your chest. His pressure was consistent, but you felt the fatigue growing stronger as a foreign force pulled at your mind.

A large shadow flew over your body before landing on your left side.

"No, no no, no, no!"

That was your mother's voice. Within a few seconds, she appeared next to Neteyam, eyeing you with wide eyes.

Your breathing grew shallow as you struggled to tilt your head up, making sure that Lo'ak and Spider had made it alright. Both boys were on Neytiri's opposite side, maintaining quivering grasps on your legs.

"Lay back, baby, it's okay," your father's trembling voice spoke, bringing your attention back to him, "We're all here."

Gasping for breaths, you gripped your father's wrist that was closest to your face. "Daddy, I-I . . . I'm scared," you wheezed, "I wanna go home."

He nodded, using his free hand to grip your hand. "I-I know, baby. I know," he soothed shakily, "We're going home. We're going home."

The fatigue was immense. Panic was returning, but its intensity was far less than its original state. Your organs panicked as they fought a cyclical battle. Your body wanted to take in air, but the action of breathing was too taxing, which caused it to weaken further. As it weakened, it begged for more air, but the cycle repeated itself.

The longer Jake watched you, the more he understood the internal battle you were facing. As he locked his eyes with your exhausted, panicked gaze, the weight of the situation dawned on him. Forcing a thick swallow down his throat, he promised himself to make sure that your departure was peaceful.

"Look at me, baby," Jake rasped, gently coaxing your head to turn towards him.

As you eyes locked, he cupped your neck again. "It's okay. I got you," he whispered, becoming choked up as he raised your knuckles to his lips and shook his head, "You don't need to be scared."

His words were like a warm blanket, engulfing you as your consciousness grew weary.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, "Daddy's here."

Following those last two words, your hearing was no longer coherent. Your gaze shifted above Jake's head, watching as the eclipsed sun seemed to grow closer to you. Distant voices echoed, but you could only make out a few words.

"Oh, Great Mother! No, Great Mother! Please!"

Your brain could no longer comprehend the meaning of those words, or any words. The distant sound of wails grew fainter as the pain in your chest faded.

A white light overtook your vision, and the feeling of a welcoming embrace consumed you.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxi@egirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus

#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully daughter #protective Jake sully #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #avatar way of water #avatar 2009

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justblades · 1 year

Text

⌕ TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK, 18+

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade x afab! reader x kafka WC : 1.5k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. 3some, bondage, spitting, degrading, cunnilingus, squ!rting

⟢ SUMMARY : getting it on with blade, kafka suddenly walks in on you two and . . . joins in the fun

"blade." you coo to the navy haired's ears, rocking your hips in an attempt to ease the pain of depravity pooling in your body. you were stuck straddling his right thigh, hands propped up to keep you stabilized.

he doesn't response, more so his puff of deep breaths were his only replies. crystalline tears start to well up in your eyes, carnal desire searing from your taunting gaze. your clit starts to throb for some attention, evident from how much you've been making friction with your exposed cunt against blade's lap - tongue stuck out in hopes of your yearning to be quenched by the stellaron hunter.

panting like a bitch in heat, it was all too much for blade to restrain. in actuality, his bulging erection was starting to ache, aching for it to be smothered with saliva and to be provided some company as well. he reaches his limit and so he quickly removes the bandage wrapped around his forearm and swiftly slithers it around your wrists— tying you with the makeshift of a binding. a yelp escapes your lips, feeling the object tighten its hold on you.

if anything, it's a win-win. you successfully managed to rile up the male so that he can tend to your needs, going through such far lengths such as this. blade immediately goes for the nape of your neck to forcibly make you seal a kiss with him, an open mouthed sloppy one so currents of pleasure and shock ride on your skins. "since you want it that bad, there's no going back." his deep voice chimes into your ears, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"do me however you like." with an instant approval, blade lets out a guttural chuckle, amused at how much you're obsessed with his dick that you're giving up your last remaining bit of dignity for him. "i'll fuck you to death then."

suddenly, the door of the confined room busts open— revealing a lady too familiar for the both of your visions. with the dim lighting glinting at her black, circular sunglasses, as if in unison, the both of you utter her name. "kafka." for someone like kafka, she was not one bit fazed at the scene unfolding before her stature. her curiosity only thrived, trekking towards the both of your figures.

"you really are a charm." she mumbles from your back, gloved hands tracing each detailing of your wrinkled clothing. as if the time comes to a standstill and your hearts were nothing but clocks, they continue to tick endlessly, striking every line and numbers for many laps already. "bladie here won't show his vulnerabilities to us and yet . . you've got him wrapped around your pinky."

kafka's next movement stirs the concoction of confusion brewing further in your conscious selves. she seats herself beside blade and leans forward to your face, her lifeless two hued irises fixate on your bewildered expression. "show me what you're made of." and with that single sentence, she envelops her soft lush lips onto yours.

your heart performs a somersault upon her action, unable to register everything happening but it definitely felt blissful. her gloved hands brush on your stomach, escalating up to where your clothes' buttons are placed. the dark magenta strands tucked behind her ear eventually came undone but kafka pays no mind as she finds herself basking in such sensation as soon as she tangles her soft tongue with yours.

saliva with a tang of sweet cherries, it makes a perfect mix with yours although you also previously exchanged sloppy kisses with blade earlier. kafka deepens her reach inside your wet cavern, the pigment of her baby pink lipstick rub on the margins of your lips. blade quickly catches on as he plays with your clit, the bandages wrapped around his hand become drenched from how hot you were feeling - being stimulated from both your upper and lower lips makes your body jolt with pleasure and shockwaves of excitement.

"i- i can't breathe." you protest as you were being smothered with kisses— to which

kafka immediately withdraws from your face and wipes her chin clean with a handkerchief she happened to carry. "we're just getting started." on e again her falsely sweet voice sounds into your ears.

with ease, she snaps the buttons of your top open, making your tits spring free as well as your nipples becoming perked at how the wintry air caresses the sensitive parts. the only heating source as of now are kafka and blade's lips, they were both quick with it as they fiddle their sticky tongues around your hardened buds.

blade was aggressive, almost as if his intention is not to pleasure but to devour you. he roughly squeezes and cup your right breast while kafka was the complete opposite. she lightly nibbles on the part all the while lathering her spit with it. meanwhile you were a moaning mess, throwing your head back as more of cloudy white liquids seep out of your cunt's folds.

"you're about to cum that fast?" she queries, eyes now widened, carefully scrutinizing the beads of arousal dampening blade's bandaged fingers. "well, what do you think about this then?" you fix your posture and trail vision back to the dyad and witness them engaging in a french kiss, making noises that were sloppy and naughty, mewls of pleasure mostly slipping from kafka's throat. as if you were inebriated with lust that it fills your system, ". . i feel hotter than before."

an alluring chuckle erupts in the room just after she breaks off the kiss, "no wonder bladie took a liking to you, you're a full on slut." as kafka uses such a degrading term to describe you, you were uncertain how to feel about it. all you know is that the male is behind you, holding you down and the other stellaron hunter is currently in front. she descends to your position, a kittenish smile sits on her lips.

your pussy was then intruded by two unfamiliar digits, accompanied by it was her warm tongue - pleasuring your slit with utmost skill. your back arches, knees folding at how it felt rhapsodic, better than how your clit was being toyed around by blade. kafka doesn't halt but only quickens the pace, sucking your folds in as if her mouth was a black hole and you're nothing but a mere planet to conquer for the lady.

more of your libido levels spike up once blade forces to you to face him with his fingertips on your chin, inviting you to exchange more of those open mouthed kisses. there were too much liquids flooding the both of your tongues that you couldn't help but gulp a good amount, to prevent getting messier than intended.

not for so long, a feeling of climax throbs on your clit. kafka quickly picks up this detail, sucking and fingering you all at the same. "i'm cumming!" you squirm under her touch as stream of liquids spring out of your hole, drenching the hunter's hair and clothes.

"okay, bladie's time to shine." with hasty shifting of positions, you find yourself on top of the male as you ride his throbbing cock while kafka sits on his lips, vis-à-vis with your lustful figure. the three of your clothes were strewn across the floor, and with a rapid thrust, kafka catches your lethargic body, nestling her face in the crook of your neck.

blade's girthy cock twitches from the confinements of your velvet walls, it pulsates everytime your pussy spasms from his shape. the navy haired was unable to supress his guttural moans, sending vibrations through kafka's cunt to which she bucks her hips for more sensation.

kafka now continues to mark your skin with her love bites, canines burrowing deep as well as sucking on your sweet spot— earning her more of your messy moans of satisfaction along with squelching sounds from blade's dick pistoning into your slit.

"bladie's toy is such a whore . ." she whispers in between her lustful kisses, words libidinous as ever. upon hearing it for the second time, you were addled at first how to feel but now you're more than certain. being degraded makes you drift into euphoria, into ecstasy, into the seventh heaven.

both of the stellaron hunters' whimpers signaling release echoe inside the four walls, as well as yours which was the loudest - followed suit by more strings of gratification springing out of each of your holes. the whole place was littered with busted, creased clothes as well as pools of cum, leaving a pungent scent that wafts into the air to which anyone could've guessed correctly from how strong the smell was.

at this point, sweat covers the entirety of your fatigues yet satisfied body, it glistens from the faintest lighting. kafka leaves a peck on your cheek with a pseudoinnocent smile playing on her lips, "i shall get going then. you can continue your episode with bladie now." as quickly as she bid her farewell, as fast as a lightning does the other stellaron hunter graces your vision.

"i'm not done with you yet."

my masterlist !

#kafka #kafka x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader smut #kafka smut #blade x reader #blade x reader smut #hsr x reader #blade honkai star rail

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mistywaves98 · 6 months

Note

how would yandere! albedo non-con us?? just a thought

✧･ﾟ:* ->How would yandere! Albedo non con you?

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Dark content, NSFW, Non con (duh), same old aphrodisiac usage scenario, slight sadist! albedo, ending was kinda rushed, a sprinkle of degradation!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI interact if uncomfy!

You never expected that your superior would do something like this to you, making you consume this strange concoction that made your knees feel weak and a strange heat build up between your legs.

Your sobs meant nothing to Albedo as he forced you onto one of the lab tables. His gloved hand held the back of your neck down, smushing your cheek against the cold marble as the other snaked its way into the front of your pants.

No matter how many times you tried to tell him to stop and that you didn't want this, he'd just keep going further and further, pushing way past your boundaries. He merely shut your pleas down with a simple 'if you didn't want this, then you wouldn't be dripping all over the floor right now'.

He knows it's all his fault that you're in such a state and your body is merely reacting to the strong aphrodisiac he made you drink, but it doesn't deter him from gaslighting you into thinking that he's not actually doing anything wrong and that it's your own fault.

In the end, you can only babble out useless protests as his fingers hook around the waistband of your pants, pulling it down along with your panties to reveal your soaked pussy. The sight makes him smirk as dark lust fills his eyes. He trails a hand up and down your slit, collecting your essence before holding it up to your face for you to see. He leans in, hot breath brushing your ear as he speaks,"Look at how wet you are, so desperate for your pussy to be filled, aren't you?"

You don't even get a choice in your answer as his hand that was on the nape of your neck moves up to cup your cheeks, squeezing them tightly as he moves your head back and forth in the mocking gesture of a nod. Albedo laughs at the pitiful sight that is you before moving his coated digits back down to your neglected pussy that seems even more wet than before. Without warning, he plunges his middle and ring finger inside your tight hole, making you gasp sharply as your walls contract around his digits.

Tears fall down your face as he mercilessly fingers you, making scissors motions to stretch you out even more. The pain is like a searing hot sensation that only adds to the heat provided by the aphrodisiac and you find that beads of sweat have formed on your forehead and are dripping down your face. Your body involuntarily tenses as your orgasm approaches and Albedo can feel it, his smirk widening as he increases his pace, chuckling as your pussy flutters around him I'm return.

"Gonna cum? Go on then, you pathetic slut. Claiming that you don't want this all while squeezing my fingers like a cheap whore." You try to retort, but Albedo his quick to cover your mouth with his other hand, shoving three fingers knuckle deep into your cavern, making you choke as you gag and cough, effectively cutting off your protests. It isn't long before your climax crashes down on you like a huge wave, your body convulsing as you cry out. Your vision goes white for a second as you orgasm hard around his digits. The aphrodisiac enhances these sensations even more, making the entire experience even more intense.

Albedo watches with satisfaction as your hot cum coats his fingers and drips onto the clean floor below. "There we go... What a disgusting yet beautiful sight. I'll be sure to document this down to the last detail. Are you ready for the next part of the experiment?" Even though you're too fucked out to respond, you wouldn't have been able to in the first place as Albedo's fingers remain stuffed in your mouth.

The sound a belt being unbuckled can be heard as he pulls down his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock from its confines. He positions himself at your entrance before suddenly thrusting into you, bottoming out immediately as he groans at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. A muffled moan of pain leaves your puffy lips, fresh tears forming in your eyes as he wastes no time in pulling back out, only to impale you once again. He fucks you with an even rhythm, making sure to drive the head of his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy.

Your nails scrape against the smooth surface of the table as your body rocks back and forth from the force of his thrusts. The atmosphere is warm, with the sounds of your broken cries and his pleasured moans mixing together as he uses your body for his pleasure. One hand presses between your shoulder blades while the other grasps your hip with a bruising grip.

Your body continues to be abused for what feels like hours, soon you don't even have the voice to cry out and can only let out choked whimpers whenever he rips another orgasm from your tired pussy. By the time he's finished, your cunt is overflowing with his hot cum as it flows onto the floor below. Your body is covered in sweat and uncontrollably twitches from time to time. Albedo thinks that you look like a piece of art as he runs a hand through your disheveled locks, tugging slightly just to hear your sweet little sounds.

"I'd say the experiment was a success. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to write this down as it's fresh in my mind. But don't fret, I'll be back soon enough" He says as he moves away from you and pulls up his pants. He turns around and exits the room, the sound of his boots clacking against the floor as he leaves you there, broken and used like a worthless toy.

#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#smut #x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #albedo smut #albedo x reader smut #dark content #tw noncon #tw dark content

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ceruleancattail · 7 months

Note

May i request for Yandere Riddle but Its actually Alice in wonderland? Like Riddle replaces the Queen of hearts and the reader is Alice.

Acceptance

Yandere Queen of Hearts Riddle x reader

Your back ached.

Standing stock still, spine yanked as straight as it would go. Almost like a statue, carved out of unmoving rock. He expected that of you.

Wait until you’re called upon.

Be obedient.

Today, The Queen of Hearts decided to grace you with some proper attire. You expected a delivery by one of her card soldiers, knocking some strange, bizarre rhythm into your door.

You didn’t expect he would come himself.

The clothes themselves were picture perfect. Every fold artistically arranged with a gaudy amount of bows and ribbons. Everything was ironed with a blazing hot iron. The metal gleamed a sinister ruby, pressed against the cloth until you could smell the foul, heavy stench of something charred beyond saving. The smoke choked you, silver wisps curling up from the fabric, waxing and waning hazily right before your eyes.

With all the ribbons and the fuzz, you felt like one of the Queen’s tarts.

All dolled up pretty just for a show.

The clothes were immediately thrown at you, molten flames sewn into a garment designed to pinch at all the wrong places. Stone grey eyes watched you expectedly. Waiting for your words of gratitude, perhaps?

For you to prostrate yourself before the Queen of Hearts , devotedly clutching onto the attire, tongue-tied with gratitude for his generosity. Maybe he would have liked to hear you stutter, simpering over just how wonderful he was.

It was all you could do not to hurl right there and then, staining the reds and white with the foulness of your bile. That would have been a damn better sight then all the shows the Queen… no, Riddle Rosehearts, insisted on hosting.

Grand affairs where all 52 card soldiers stood at attention, swarms of crimson and ebony parading across his estate. The grand gallows would be set up, blades polished into a steely gleam. In the golden rays of the sun, it shone with a certain grim determination.

A sharp click of tongue. Riddle was losing his patience. It would not do to dawdle, especially in front of royalty. Quickly, you sunk into a shallow bow, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered onto your face.

Arms slipping into sleeves, you did your best not to wince. The heat of the fabric stung, blazing-hot needles stabbing themselves deep into your flesh. The cloth itself dug deep into your shoulders, constraining your movements.

Much like a straitjacket. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. You were probably the last person in here who needed to be put into one. Every last soul in Twisted Wonderland was mad.

God help you, you might follow suit if this keeps up.

A round of applause. Riddle’s gloved hands clasped each other as he beamed at you. Smile as dazzling as the golden crown that adorned his head.

“You look simply ravishing, my dear.”

His arm stretched out, pinching the cloth that draped over your thigh. Instantly, your hand rushed over in attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

In the process, your fingertips brushed against his, nudging him back ever so slightly. A brief touch could be explained away with a smile and a joke. Pushing him, out of all people, away?

You could feel the anger radiating off him. The searing heat coming off his body in waves, scorching every inch of your skin. The slight tremble in his fingers as they reached for your collar, gripping firmly.

Riddle drags you forward by the throat, yanking you closer to him. Your lungs gasped, collapsing into themselves. Your chest shuddered, trying to inhale even just the slightest breath of air-

It burns.

Your throat, your nose, your mouth were all on fire, forked tongues of pain jabbing deep into your veins. Everything burnt.

With a fury like no other.

Spluttering, your hands claw at his wrist, lips moving soundlessly, desperately. Begging Riddle to release you, to let you breathe-

He finally relents, loosening his grip. Gasping, you clutch at your chest, lungs greedily sucking up whatever air they could reach. It took a few shuddering coughs before your heart stopped racing.

Even then, it still beat rather loudly in your ears. Trashing against its cage of bone, a feral beast threatening to burst right out of your chest.

Gently, something slid across the curve of your chin. A sceptre, as cold as ice. Even the slightest touch made your skin crawl, goosebumps racing up your limbs. Riddle holds it there for awhile, nudging your jaw until your eyes were forced to meet his.

Those accursed crimson irises.

Gingerly, he raises a gloved hand to his lips. Teeth biting down on the edge of the silk, he pulls it off. Discarding it somewhere onto the ground. Riddle reaches for you with his hand, now bare. Cupping your face gently, tenderly, like one would with a lover.

His eyes flickered towards yours, a silent warning.

Do not reject his touch.

Do not reject his gifts.

Do not reject him.

Or it’ll be your head rolling next.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle #riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle x reader #protection potion ♦️

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sytoran · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐘 / wandanat x dom!r

being a supersoldier had its perks, surely: like being paired up with the black widow and scarlet witch on a mission, and getting to fuck them on that very mission.

──── ♥ pairing. sub!wandanat x dom!supersoldier!reader

──── ♥ cont. smut (18+), a semblance of a plot verging on shameless smut, cunnilingus, so much cunnilingus oh god, strap-on usage, established wandanat, overstimulation, a lot of it, possessiveness, jealousy, squirting, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking kink

──── ♥ note. reader is said to be buff & masc, no gendered pronouns are used. there is use of a strap-on though ;) word count is 3k lol

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

being a super soldier had its perks, surely.

chosen by professor erskine in 1943 to be injected with the super soldier serum, gaining an enhanced physique, then using it to save the world countless times? yeah. it was nice. being stuck in ice for seventy years? not that nice.

you know what was nicer, though?

the women that came along with it.

no, you weren’t objectifying them, in any way or sort. it was just validating, receiving that kind of attention you so craved. it only took something as simple as walking along the street to be approached by an eager woman, body language very telling in what her end goal was.

and who were you to deny them?

nights that ended in your bedroom and clothes ripped to shreds was a common occurrence. despite the, uh, animalistic tendencies of those racy one-night-stands, you were always sure to make her breakfast the next morning. it was almost an apology for their shredded underwear.

bucky, your loving asshole of a best friend, called that habit of yours ‘whore behaviour’.

you called it the super soldier theory.

as much of a — politely speaking — whore, you could be, no matter how rough or desperate or hot or messy the events of the previous night were, you were damn sure to make it accumulate into an unforgettable, wet dream-inducing, masturbation-worthy one.

and what better to top that off with a pleasant breakfast? you’d known the empty feeling of waking up to a cold bed, so you’d make sure there was still some level of pleasantry and chivalry.

—

well, that fine theory of yours would come into action much sooner than expected.

“fuck,” you groaned into the pillow, as your alarm resounded around the empty apartment of your house. that day was a monday, and you were in no mood to go to the SHIELD compound to begin work.

that could mostly be blamed on the searing pain in your back that was the result of last night’s endeavours, but there was nothing wrong in a little sexual activity, was there? well, by little you meant a lot, but linguistics don’t matter.

in fact, nothing mattered when you were paired up with the scarlet witch and black widow on a new mission.

god bless nick fury.

you were currently huddled in SHIELD’s meeting room for pre-mission administrative bullshit you didn’t give a damn about. sorry, maria.

the object of your attention was the black widow, in her skin-tight full-body black suit, showing off flattering curves, and the scarlet witch, in a low-cut top that revealed a generous cleavage. you weren’t staring, you really weren’t.

but when natasha moved to brush her lips against wanda’s ear, eyes however darting to you, and the way wanda responded in kind, glancing at you and giving you a little wink…… it was doing things to you.

it was almost as if they were putting on a show for you, in all your super-soldier, openly queer glory.

you weren’t really taken aback by wanda and natasha's relationship, in all honesty, because the two never seemed to get enough of each other. what you were taken aback by, on the other hand, was their interest in you.

natasha and wanda had an inexplicable attraction towards you, only growing more touchy when they knew you were watching because of the knowledge that your eyes would inevitably find theirs.

you had tried to ignore at first, the palpable sexual tension between the three of you, that only grew with the passing days, but soon it was all too much to be overlooked.

the day the dam broke, was the day of that very mission.

—

“target spotted,” wanda says in your earpiece, sharp and steady. the lilt of her sokovian accent wasn’t loss on your keen ears, and it made you swoon just a little.

the mission was a clear-cut one, straightforward and supposedly simple. secure the target, steal the harddrive, export the information, then out. you didn’t really understand why SHIELD needed two of their best agent and two avengers for this, but maybe they just wanted to play it safe.

the destination of the mission was a high-end fancy banquet hall, thus you were all dressed to class.

wanda was dolled up in a velvet green dress, matching her eye-color. it went off her shoulders, exposing the sleek collarbone and accentuating the curve of her breast. the slit of the dress ended dangerously high on her right thigh, showing off bare skin. natasha was wrapped up in a eulalia red satin dress, downright sinful in the way it hugged the curve of her breasts and her hips. the backless dress was a pleasant treat for your eyes.

not to be arrogant, but you think you didn’t look too bad yourself, what with a tailored black suit — the fabric hugged your broad shoulders leading a smaller waist, and was tight-fitting at the arms, showing off the curve of impressive biceps. the collared shirt underneath was unbuttoned low enough to expose a tattoo, that could only be deciphered upon closer examination.

"bald guy, navy blue suit. chatting up a blonde girl on the left side of the pillar with the painting of a ballerina.”

upon wanda’s jurisdiction, your eyes find the target easily. you also don’t miss the copious amonuts of bodyguards stationed throughout the banquet hall.

“we have eyes on him,” natasha’s voice in your ear now. “y/n and i will distract him. wanda, you get the hard disc drive, which is conveniently placed in his pocket.” wanda voices her agreement.

suddenly, you feel a hand on the middle of your back, and you almost jump. it’s natasha, and if your eyes ever travelled to her breasts, no they didn’t.

natasha loops her arms around you, hands interlocking behind your neck. she smiles serenely. you gulp at the close proximity between the two of you.

“what-”

“kiss me.”

before you can lift a finger to react, before you can say that there’s people here, natasha pulls you in for a kiss, and an explosion of fireworks erupt in your stomach.

god, it’s so surreal, the feel of her lips on yours. no, they’re not velvety soft or perfectly unblemished, but the fact that it’s natasha, delicate yet desperate, makes you want to die.

realizing that this might be the only chance you ever have with the black widow, even if it is just a mission, you chase her lips in a flurry. your left hand goes to cup at her waist possesively, just knowing it would rile up the target who was most definitely watching, and your other hand wraps itself around her neck.

natasha lets out an airy sound — you selfishly hope that it was your doing, not just a play for the audience — and she tugs at your collar, pulling herself closer to you. despite being somewhat in the corner of the hall, the quickly-gained attention is a little unsettling.

you move to break apart slowly, before natasha’s fingers find your belt loops and her lips are on yours once again. she moves with a goal in mind, this time, hot breaths and tongue flooding your senses.

you know that this means something more than a mission, but that thought is buried somewhere far in your depleting conscience. you can only hope that wanda takes longer to retrieve the harddrive.

fighting to return natasha’s renewed fervour, you greedily grab at her breasts, playing with the mounds of flesh as she breathes into your kiss.

before you know it, natasha is dragging you up the winding stairs, through the crowds of judgemental whispers and wide-eyed stares.

“what about- what about the target,” you ask, helplessly and breathlessly, struggling to find a semblance of order. it’s hard, when natasha’s ass is right in your line of vision.

you’re shoved into the elevator of the posh building. you’re about to question why on earth the security guards aren’t doing anything, before the redhead is kissing you again.

“shut up and fuck me,” she pants into the kiss, pressing a random floor of the building. you finally oblige, knowing that this was a one-in-a-million chance.

oh, fuck the mission.

you ruck her skirt up, pushing her bare ass against the cold metal of the elevator. natasha squirms in your grasp, and desperately rub your palm against her cunt. she grinds against it like its sweet solace.

“more,” natasha pants into your ear, and you shove a hand up into her panties in the moving elevator, any semblance of respect and public courtesy long gone.

once the elevator door dings open, natasha drags you out, leading you into one of the rooms by your tie. you try to grasp at any part of her you can reach, but she stays cleverly out of reach.

the door slams shut, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with wanda maximoff.

“what the fuck is happening,” you breathe, feeling natasha take off your suit jacket from behind. “am i- am i dreaming?”

“oh baby, we’re a lot better than whatever dreams you’ve been having, i can assure you,” wanda says casually, red tendrils of magic swirling around her fingers then around your body. you’re knocked into the bed, forced to sit at the edge.

wanda lifts a finger to trace a long, red nail across the purple hickey on your neck from last night. you clench under her languid touch, and wanda hums in visible appreciation at your bulging muscles.

"i could do better than that," she purrs through sharp teeth, grazing over the faded hickey.

you hiss through kissed teeth, frustrated at being unable to move your limbs. as a super-soldier, it was almost embarrassing to be rendered useless so easily, but thankfully the knowledge that wanda was just about the most powerful being in the universe was consolation.

“what about the mission?” the question barely leaves your lips before wanda promptly sinks her teeth into your flesh between the neck and your shoulder.

“calm down, sweetheart,” natasha purrs, undoing the buttons of your shirt. “we’ve taken care of it already.” wanda waves the harddrive in front of you, before tossing it to the side.

you don’t find the heart in you to question her. wanda straddles you, and when she kisses you, you kiss back. natasha’s kiss from earlier meshes into this one, and you can taste them, simultaneously. it drives you mad, almost.

wanda lets out a moan, and you take advantage of her moment of weakness to spin the two of you around. you press wanda into the position you were previously, while you get down in front of her, your face at the same level as her pussy. you grin up at her.

while wanda had pinned you down with her magic, you had pinned her down with the sheer force of your enhanced physique. spreading her legs open, you murmur, “two can play this game. or three, i suppose.”

natasha lets out a humoured bark of laughter. “hm, you two have your fun. i’ll have my turn later.”

wasting little time in getting what you wanted, you helped wanda undo her dress, letting it fall to the floor. ripping off her panties with your teeth, natasha let out an impressed whistle while wanda turned as red as her hair.

you used your thumbs to spread her glistening folds open, allowing you to see just about everything. wanda whined, at being all spread out, your hungry eyes never leaving cunt.

"hurry up," she gasps, jerking when you let out a slow exhale, warm air making her clit throb.

it’s all good fun at first, wanda teasing you while you lap at her cunt hungrily. she’s playing with your hair, nails scraping at your neck. she reaches her first orgasm embarassingly quickly.

it’s only after another one that wanda realizes, once you’ve latched your mouth onto her divine pussy, you’re not taking it off anytime soon.

“baby,” she asks hesitantly, breaking off into a moan when your tongue finds her stiff clit.

you bury your head deeper, letting out a low hum in response. the vibrations send tingles all up her stimulated cunt, and wanda jerks, clenching around you.

“baby,” wanda pleads, airy and hazy. you let out a guttaral sound from the back of your throat, the pit in your stomach burning as she moans your name. you respond in kind, shoving your tongue in a little deeper. wanda screams your name.

she tasted too good, too sweet, too pretty. wanda’s overstimulated cunt is positively throbbing, uncontrollable gushes of white cream going all over your face. you lap it all up, gripping onto her thighs.

“daddy, stop,” she whimpers, trying to yank your head away. the way that title falls from her lips is divine. but you’re adamant in getting what you want, so you ignore her pleads and go back to devouring her hungry pussy. god, you couldn’t get enough of her taste.

wanda has tears in her eyes, unable to form anything but moans and shrieks as you bring her over the edge again and again. throughout the minutes, you never let down, only picking up your pace with each sweet cry of your name.

there was only one way to abuse your super-soldier stamina, right?

god, she was so wet, her pussy so drenched it goes into her ass, then staining the sheets and soaking through the mattress. you don’t fuckin’ stop, can’t stop, only craving to break her and make her ascend.

it’s only after several more earth-shattering orgasms that natasha roughly yanks you away, having had enough of your fun. your eyes are defiant, flashing, until they lock with natasha’s.

and boy, was that a sight you’d remember.

the normally green eyes of natasha were darkened into a sea of black, pupils so dilated you swore you could see through them, through the lust and the longing. trailing your eyes south, the hand shoved up her panties was now completely soaked — god, had she managed to fit four fingers in there?

her breathing was ragged, the only semblance of normality being the widow-hardened grip on your jaw. you look up, letting her see just how damp your face is, from completely devouring wanda.

“it’s my turn, babe,” natasha says through a shaky breath, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. to your surprise, she throws a strap-on at you, bright red. it’s far larger than what you would expect from her.

nonetheless, you smirk, more than happy to oblige.

but first, you casually carry the passed-out wanda to settle into the left side of the bed. you place a chaste kiss on her forehead, as natasha’s eyes twinkle in amusement.

“don’t try to play the gentleman card, after you fucked her brains out.” natasha comments with a lazy grin. you shake your head, returning that grin in kind. “gotta reputation to uphold,” you quip, letting natasha unbuckle your pants.

your black boxers are damp, to no one’s surprise — wanda’s moans were surely something. natasha trails her hand over it, licking her lips, then lays down on the bed next to wanda, conveniently spreading her legs.

“uphold your reputation then,” natasha laughs, humming in appreciation at your visibly aroused expression.”treat a lady right.”

you put on the strap-on in record timing, not missing the way natasha’s eyes are on your hands as they fly expertly over the harness, fastening it in place with experienced haste.

“on your hands and knees. face the wall.” you command, and natasha obeys. she uses her hands to spread her ass, teasing you. your eyes darken.

before natasha can let the witty remark slip from the tip of her tongue, you’re easing the silicone cock into her pussy from behind. mounting her like a rabbit in heat, you’re soon rutting into her.

“fuck,” natasha cries, clenching around you, so tight and hot and wet and delicious.

“pretty girl,” you growl mindlessly, letting the cock slide in and out of her hungry pussy. your eyes burn, muscles straining as you use natasha like a little rag doll, all her supposed witty teasing gone by the time you’re done with her.

it was so enticing and entrapping, the way her pussy wraps around your faux cock, how she was pulling away from the overstimulation, yet pulling you in with desperation.

screams and whines of your name bounce of the walls, until you’re heftily sure that the entire banquet hall can still hear her.

after minutes, or hours — no, time was a social construct and irrelevant when it came to mindblowing sex — you finally stopped. even your supersoldier physique was sore, so how on earth natasha and wanda had coped stumped you.

the room reeked of sex and sweat and cum, as your brain was still catching up on what on earth had actually fuckin’ happened.

and yet, you don’t think you could get enough of them, not even with your head buried in wanda’s pussy for an eternity, or your plastic cock shoved so far up natasha it kissed her womb.

so it didn’t come as a surprise, when the black widow and the scarlet witch woke up in your apartment the next morning, completely naked, the only trace of your presence being the wafting smell of pancakes in the kitchen.

the super soldier theory strikes again.

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wheww this was a ridee. really hope yall enjoyed it :) reblog pretty please? (begging like a bottom? yes i am)

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