#moira x reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddollipop · 10 months

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I DIG MY NAILS IN DYNAMITE. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — if moira’s going to be forced to work the clinic, she’s going to do things her way: no matter how unconventional her methods may be. (malicious fucking compliance) .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , slight begging , implied age difference , slight power imbalance , subtle medical setting , oral sex , cunnilingus , fingering , dom!moira , sub!reader , nipple sucking , some wall action , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , slight praise , sex in the workplace , finger sucking , sort of revenge sex .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

The clinical wing is hardly any of Moira’s responsibility. It wasn’t her idea, she had no intention of utilizing it herself, and the fact that she was being forced to work it alone for no less than ten hours a week was something akin to infuriating. If she didn’t already loathe Angela Ziegler and her fluffed up ideals about peace and prosperity, —she certainly did now. Because this was cutting into her time, and if there was one thing Moira couldn’t stand more than working with incompetent people: it was squandering her waking hours on fruitlessness. It was always the same things over and over and over again. You’d think a building full of well-educated men and women of science would have a better understanding of their own petty ailments by now, but no. . .

Every slim bout of nausea, every headache onset, every tiny papercut, it seemed, was good enough a reason to come crying to her. And she’d had enough. It’s not to say that you were any more or less annoying than anyone else who’d stopped by that day, but there was something so nerve grinding about your presence, about the way you glanced around the white-walled exam room, that set Moira off.

“What’s wrong with you, exactly?” She questioned, —though it was painfully clear she was only asking out of obligation and was none too pleased to be doing so.

Her stern, uncaring expression almost had you forgetting the lie you’d cooked up while sitting there alone for a good ten minutes.

“I’ve got um. . . A headache and I’m feeling a little dizzy,” you reply.

She notices how uncertain you sound of it, and her eyes narrow at you, regarding you suspiciously.

“Is that a question or a statement?” She asks bluntly, mincing no words in the process.

“A statement,” you answer, tacking on a soft apology that she doesn't care enough about to acknowledge.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A few hours, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

You’re really starting to wish you could just sink into the exam table and disappear. Even more than that, you’re cursing Doctor Ziegler for putting you up to this, —for deciding that you were just innocent looking enough to play a fools game with this woman before you. You’re certain now that the extra pay is hardly worth putting yourself through this just to see if Moira is really taking her position in the clinic seriously.

“A few hours,” you repeat, dropping the rest; but you know it’s already too late.

She’s annoyed with you. She’s sick of it here in this tiny room, and all she wants to do is put a stop to this ridiculousness and make use of her time her way. . . Which gets the cogs turning in her mind. If she has to be here, Moira’s going to make the most of it, —and what better way than to indulge herself in the sweetest little patient that’s set foot in here all day? It’ll be a bit before her clinic hours are up for now, and she’d much rather spend that time tying up some of her own loose ends than playing into Angela’s surprisingly spiteful hands.

“It’s a bit warm in here, no?” She says suddenly, straightening her back and standing to her full height as she shrugs off her lab coat.

“Uh. . . Yeah? A little, I guess,” you reply uncertainly, trying your best not to stare as she drapes the shed garment over the back of a chair and masterfully unbuttons the top of her white dress shirt.

The fabric is loose, and it sits against her pale skin like silken sheets atop a mattress. For all Moira is known for being: —cruel, sarcastic, brilliant, blunt— you can’t help but wonder why attractive doesn’t tend to make the shortlist. It’s far from the first time something like that has ever crossed your mind, of course, having worked in her vicinity for several months now, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt your insides twist themselves into pretzels at the sight of her.

She’s so tall, and even without the height, her personality alone commands the space she physically takes up. Moira is the kind of woman who doesn’t ask for what she desires, but simply demands it, and there’s something very stirring about that in a way you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

“You guess, do you?” She raises an eyebrow, throwing you a blank glance.

Her hands come down to grip the edge of the exam table, the crinkly paper shuffling under the new pressure. She’s close enough now that you can feel her breath ghost against you, and somehow, her unchanging expression feels ten times more spine-tingling now that she’s less far away.

“Is there anything you’re certain of, y/n?” She questions, —and heaven help you, the way she says your name has your thighs itching to squeeze together where you sit.

“I-I. . .” You stutter pitifully, lost for words now that she's this close, eyes ghosting around her face, then around the room, just hoping to avoid her gaze.

“You. . .?” She prompts in a surprisingly gentle tone, removing one hand from the exam table to grab your face.

It's not a violent gesture, nor much of an unwelcome one, as her thumb sits on one cheek and four fingers press against the other. She steadies your head with the grasp, forcing the direction straight ahead, and your eyes naturally follow in suit. Moira can feel the way you swallow, watching as your throat moves to push the saliva down, and something akin to dangerous blossoms within her.

“You're a pretty girl,” she tells you.

Somehow, the tone she uses when she says it makes it feel less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

“It's too bad you're such a quiet thing. I'm sure under the right circumstances, your voice is quite sweet.”

Anything you could have thought to say in reply seems to all but die on your tongue or lodge in your throat. A shiver creeps up your spine, tingling under your skin, scattering goosebumps all across your body.

“Do you have any idea how tiring this is?” She asks, standing to her full height again, clarifying quickly: “Working in this clinic? When I, of all people, should be doing something of actual substance. Forgive me if your headache isn't as interesting to me as my own endeavors, —but you must realize how pathetic it is to come crawling to me about something so minute.”

Finally, you work up the nerve to speak back again.

“I'm sure it must be frustrating,” you answer. “I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Doctor, I just. . .”

I didn't have much of a say in the matter.

She sighs.

“Did nobody ever teach you how to finish your sentences?” She asks, sounding rather incredulous. “Either out with it, or let me put your mouth to some proper use.”

You're not really sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's not as if you have much to say at the moment anyway. Anything you could have mustered up has gone out the window, drained like a pin-pricked egg.

A smirk tugs on her lips at your silence.

“Open,” she directs, a folded index finger sneaking under your chin and a thumb dragging your bottom lip down a bit.

In the moment, you hardly register the command, but somehow you manage to blink yourself back to reality fast enough to part your lips without her having to ask again. (Though asking wasn't really what she'd even done in the first place.)

“Good,” Moira hums, appearing all too pleased with herself, “it seems you’re capable of following directions.”

Having acknowledged that much, she sneaks that thumb up, letting it pass your lips and nudge at your tongue, feeling the warm wetness of your mouth. You feel yourself burning up, and Moira presses in until the pointed middle knuckle of her thumb is barely ghosting below your cupid's bow.

“Close,” she demands, —and you do, suckling on the heat of her hand, eyes scaling up to her face.

She seems much too delighted by this, albeit in a subdued sense of the word. There’s always been an air of cockiness about her, but this really took the cake and ran with it, like she was so proud to have suckered you in even this deep. It’s then that you’re forced to question whether this is some kind of sick joke, or if she’s truly just that bored here in the clinical wing. It’s obviously not her favorite place to be, but doing all of this on the clock to make the time pass by faster is a little bit of a stretch, even for someone like her.

Moira glides her thumb to and fro, watching the way your lips move with her, still clasped around her digit so beautifully. She thinks to herself that you really are just such a pretty girl.

“Aren’t you just a sweet, obedient thing?” She muses, finally letting her lips curve upward completely.

You hum instinctively, and she can feel the vibration as it resonates from the back of your throat.

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side, raising a single eyebrow, “was that meant to be defiant? Or perhaps just a correction, —that you’re only this malleable for me?”

She loves the way you look so dazed by every word she speaks, like you’re trying to interpret a foreign language. You’re so mystified by her very presence this close up, as if you can’t decide if she’s real or not.

Eventually, Moira decides she’s had enough and utters “open” again, to which you comply quickly, letting her thumb make its way out from between your lips. Ever the inquisitive woman, she rubs her thumb against her index finger, tapping them together, letting your leftover saliva string between them.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, turning that duel-colored stare directly on you so intently, “—don’t play so coy. There comes a time when every woman must stop begging for the things she desires, and I’m tired of your eyes begging for what your mouth refuses to ask of me.”

Your lips part now, brain convinced you have a solid idea of what you’re supposed to be requesting of her. Though your head is still swimming and a part of you just knows you’re better off leaving things here, as they are, you’re only human. . . So you let your shaky hands come up to grasp at the fabric of her partially unbuttoned shirt, and you pull her inward, not once, but twice, until her face is so close to yours that you’re practically sharing the same breath.

There’s a pause when you don’t make the final move to kiss her, half expecting that she’d have taken over by now, but she offers a low chuckle and snakes a hand up her torso, grasping at your own. It’s gentle for a moment —but only for a moment— before she forces your grip away in a single motion, the other hand wrapping around your free wrist, and pinning either of your hands down against the examination table.

“Go on,” she presses, “stop being so polite. Take what it is we both know you want. Do lions ask nicely before they tear their prey apart?”

You wonder which one you’re supposed to be in this scenario, —the lion or the prey. With the way she’s staring at you, you get the feeling it’s the latter. . .

Closer, closer, you lean, until Moira’s mouth is barely touching your own in a sort of off-handed, almost kiss that isn’t quite coming to fruition. Your neck is craned as far as your body will allow, and you feel the little tuft of amused breath that passes her nostrils ghost against your skin.

“You really are just incredibly novel, did you know that?” She asks, pressure increasing on your pinned down wrists as she finally goes in for the kill.

Her lips are surprisingly soft, and slightly sticky from the remnants of her off-orange lipstick. Even the way she kisses you commands a certain level of respect, and you hope to honor that by keeping up, letting your body react naturally to any and all of her ministrations. When her tongue slips into your mouth, you hardly startle at the feeling, letting her lick and taste as she pleases. The way she does so is like she can’t get enough, —and it crosses your mind very briefly that you may be the first person she’s come on to in quite a while.

Her job is demanding, and overwhelmingly isolating, after all. ..

Having stained your lips enough, both with her bruising kisses and the tangerine-ajacent cosmetics on her mouth, she pulls away for the briefest of moments, only to descend upon your neck like it was glazen with sugar. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you, or the soft moan that follows, —or the way your hand reaches up to bury the fingers in those fiery strands of hair now that hers are no longer pinning yours down.

“Moira,” you hiss lightly, “—ah.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have never uttered her name so plainly in lieu of her title, but with the way she was wearing you thin and prying you open with such apparent ease, you doubted she’d care much if you stepped over a line previously drawn in the sand. As far as you could tell, you were already lost at sea anyhow.

It’s not much of anything, but you feel her smirk against your skin, then murmur: “She does speak.”

You’re on fire, inside and out, burning up so badly you fear there’ll be nothing left but ashes by the time she’s finished with you. Silently, you think it might be best for you to put a stop to this before it ends up going too far; before each of you are drowning so deep there’s no way to break the surface. Your lips part, ready to put an end to it all, —knowing you should. . . But you can’t. Not when she looks you over like you really are just her prey for the taking, for the feasting, the devouring.

“Darling,” she murmurs, tracing the back of her finger down your cheek, caressing you softly, “don’t be so shy. Learn to take what you want without pleading.”

Even then, it’s less of a suggestion and more of a subtle demand.

“I—” you start, but swallow just as quickly.

Sucking in a breath, you let your hands do the talking, gracing the flushed skin of her neck, then ghosting just above her sharp collar bones that peak out from her unbuttoned blouse. Before you have the wherewithal to tell yourself to stop, your shaky fingers begin fiddling with the rest of the clasps, going further down until you see the top of her bra (a simple, black garment, in true Moira fashion.) There’s something so stunning about the way colors lie against her, as if melding into her flesh, bending to her will.

She doesn’t stop you from unfastening the buttons, revealing more of her as you continue downward. She’s got no complaints to utter, no reservations present in her body language, and she sheds the top entirely when the last one has come undone. Moira takes a step back, tossing her shirt onto the small countertop, one of the sleeves dangling over into the sink. You take her fleeting absence from your body as an opportunity to admire her, —the sharp, almost jagged edges she carries around like swords. She’s so tall and slender, so striking in the way she moves as if everything is calculated and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that the world is ready to mold to her every wish and whim.

“Something to say?” She cocks a brow, tone smooth and almost melodic, that hint of an Irish accent clinging to every word.

Your mouth still feels dry, but you force yourself to say what’s on your mind, —even at the risk of coming across like some lovesick schoolgirl.

“I just think you’re pretty,” you answer.

Her lips quirk into another smirk at the compliment, and she runs a hand through her hair, letting you admire the motion.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she replies.

It didn’t feel kind when you said it, really. . . It just felt true.

“Come,” she beckons, coaxing you off the exam table and closer to the wall, pressing your back against it.

It’s cold to the touch, but it does little to quench the fire still roaring in your guts. What’s more, you’re not entirely sure you want it to stop now anyway. From the corner of your eye, you can see one of Moira’s lengthy arms reach out to tap the middle of the doorknob with a long-nailed finger, popping the lock into place. You assume that signifies a sealed deal of sorts. . . That there’s no going back now; and heaven knows you’re not trying to.

Moira’s hands find their way to your waist, pressing firmly for a bit as she kisses you again; albeit somewhat slower and more intimately than before. It feels more like the kind of kiss you’d give a lover to show affection than one you’d throw at a midday fling. There’s little time to dwell on the thought, however, as she snakes herself between your thighs, dancing over the fabric of your dress pants.

Your breathing hitches a little at the feeling, your skin heating up, and Moira grins to herself before letting her fingers trail upward and curl inward, grabbing at your sweater. Untucking it from your pants, the elder woman pulls it up, looks to you for approval, then finishes the job as she yanks it over your head and tosses it back onto the examination table. The crinkly paper shuffles for a moment, and the sound is almost thunderous over the duet of breaths and heartbeats across the room.

She murmurs something about how lovely you are that you don’t quite catch, —but the real compliment comes from the way her eyes trace across your body, soaking up every inch so earnestly.

When you reach behind her slim back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra, she gives a hum of amusement.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” She asks, voice dripping with the only kind of condescension that tastes so sweet.

“I can’t help it,” you breathe quickly, almost in embarrassment, but still lacking the humility it would have otherwise carried.

You manage to tear the clasp open and the straps on her shoulders slump off. Moira readily tugs them down and sheds the last garment on her upper half, letting your eyes rake over the slight curve of her breasts. They’re not large by any means, but they suit her body so nicely, sitting perfectly on her chest with pinkish nipples you can’t help but think about clasping your mouth around.

She seems pleasantly surprised when you make the first move to do just that, even placing a long-nailed hand on the back of your head, guiding you to her body. As you offer a lick to the left one with the flat of your saliva-laden tongue, she lets out a soft breath, stroking your hair softly as if to encourage you to keep going. You do as she silently asks, parting your lips again and taking her in your mouth, suckling on one, then giving the same attention to the other. She seems to like the way you swirl your tongue, so you do it again, and again, and again, until Moira decides that this just isn’t suiting her fancy any longer.

“Good girl,” she mumbles, even when she’s pushing you away and tugging your bra off with ease.

This time, she doesn’t bother tossing the article of clothing onto the exam table behind her, she simply lets it hit the ground to join her own. Thankfully, the sanitation of the labs, and subsequently the clinical wing, has always been solid as can be.

With a clawed hand, she covers your mouth and keeps your head pinned back against the wall, ducking down to repay the favor. She takes her time reaching your breasts, but it’s hard to mind when she’s busy sucking love bites in a trail down your neck and upper chest. She bites your shoulder, feels you moan against her palm, then does it again to draw the sound from your throat once more.

When she finally takes a single nipple between her teeth, the sensation alone has you seeing stars. Her mouth is so wet and warm, so surprisingly inviting, and she’s so skilled with every little flick. Her free hand works what her mouth doesn’t, careful not to scratch or jab you with her nails. She stays attached for much longer than she allowed you to be, and it crosses your mind that Moira may not be much into the whole receiving end of things. Whatever the case, she looks too pretty like this, with her mouth leaving the rest of her faint lipstick around your nipples and on the column of your neck, for you to think too much of it (or be disappointed by it.)

You really couldn’t tell if all this passion and fervor was born of spite against Angela for setting this clinic up in the first place and making Moira work in it, the general frustration of being away from her own endeavors for so long today, the pent up ardor releasing after a dry spell, —or maybe some mixture of all of that and then some. Whatever the case, Moira wasn’t skimping on a single detail, and you were going to be the last person on the face of the planet to complain about that.

As she unbuttoned your pants and began to tug them down, allowing them to cling around your thighs, you were quick to take over and shed your own clothing at her silent demand. You were thankful you’d worn open-toed heels that day, knowing it wouldn’t have been as sexy if you’d had to have taken the time to slip your socks off during this little process. Moira doesn’t make any moves to mimic you, instead resigning herself to watching and holding herself back from touching.

When everything’s shed, you unconsciously cover yourself with your arms a bit, not necessarily to hide away from her gaze, but out of little more than whatever few shreds of humility you have left.

“Don’t be bashful,” she says firmly, grasping each of your wrists and planting your arms at your sides.

The transition back to the table feels like a blur, —a rush of so much at once that your mind goes a little foggy and the sound of that damn crinkly paper being pushed back to the top, along with the stray clothes, hardly registers above the ache in your core and the coolness of the floor beneath your bare feet. She instructs you to sit, and you do, and when she tells you to come closer to the edge and spread your legs, you do that as well.

“You’re so obedient,” she comments with a half-smile, trailing a finger down the barren skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers across your skin. “We could use more employees like you around here.”

A part of you can’t help but hope, in the moment, that those people never come around, that they never land positions in the lab, just so this endeavor can be your burden to carry alone. This side of Moira is still intimidating, but there’s a softness to be found in the way she looks at you, the way she mumbles little compliments against your skin, —the way she treats you like you’re made of something fragile.

She parts your lips with two of her long fingers, taking a moment to admire the way arousal has slicked your folds up so beautifully. It’s been a while since she’s seen firsthand the impact she can have on a woman, and your wetness strokes her ego more than it probably should have.

The moment the flat of her tongue pressed against you, your toes curled inward and your head fell back, a few breathy moans making your chest stutter. Through half-lidded eyes, you could only watch in bliss as Moira glanced up at you, her mouth suctioned around your needy little cunt, feeling every twitch and licking up every bit of juice.

“Oh my God,” you huff, reaching forward with one hand to grasp at Moira’s hair.

She seems to like the way you vocalize, and the way you grab at her like it’s something natural, even when it really isn’t. Her tongue works in circles, then lines, then a million other shapes and directions in a single moment, and you feel your body quiver from the tension.

A part of you feels pathetic, but it really can’t be helped that she’s already pushed you to the edge. Weeks of work had given you little time to yourself, and what time you had managed had been spent sleeping, eating, or trying to catch up on things you enjoyed in your personal life. Taking care of your more intimate needs just hadn’t really entered the equation as of late, but now all of that build-up was really showing its true colors (and so quickly at that.)

“I—” you suck in a breath, “I’m gonna cum—”

And she reaches around from the top, her arm hooked under your left thigh, pressing the pad of her thumb ever so carefully against your swollen clit.

You toss your head back and bite your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your free hand grasps for one of your breasts, pinching a nipple between your fingers, letting her drive that stake in so fucking deep that you can feel your insides melting away into ecstasy. Her thumb massaging your clit, her tongue swirling around just below, and the utter depravity of having sex with your boss’s most disgruntled co-worker leaves you cumming on her face, muscles releasing all their tension and melding away into this fantasy world with her.

Oh, but she’s not done, —because of course she’s not. The quiver in your thighs isn’t steady enough, and she hasn’t felt you clench around her fingers, hasn’t felt you tug on her hair hard enough to rip some of the strands from her scalp, hasn’t quite had her fill of you just yet.

Moira brings her hand to her mouth, tearing the middle two nails off with her teeth and spitting them onto the ground beside the examination table. That’s probably a lot hotter than it should be right now, but there’s something about the way she tugs them off so effortlessly, grasping them between her canines, that has your core sopping at the sight of it.

“Just lay back,” she requests.

You do, without question, and you hear her offer up a low chuckle that resonates from the back of her throat.

“You’d just do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?” She asks, amusement clinging to every word.

“Yeah, probably,” you reply breathily, —and perhaps a bit too honestly.

But she likes that.

Moira pushes your thighs apart like they’re less so parts of your body and more so obstacles getting in the way of what she wants. She stands to her full height for a moment or two, but her back curves downward and she lowers herself over top of you as she flips her hand palm-side up and sinks those two de-nailed fingers inside your cunt. Your accumulated wetness allows for such an easy entrance, and she pauses for a moment at the hilt of her hand to relish in the way your walls thrub around her digits, almost pulsating, begging for more.

If there’s ever been something Moira has been happy to comply with, —it was this. She lets you adjust, but just barely so, and then pulls back a bit, letting the friction elicit a few soft moans from you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes rolling back a bit, cunt clenching around Moira’s lengthy fingers, the ones she knows how to work so well inside you.

It once again seems like every move she makes is calculated and precise, evoking something so primal inside you, unleashing some kind of desirous beast that just can’t get enough of her.

And there you are on this uncomfortable exam table in this God forsaken clinical wing that neither you nor Moira have ever been very fond of, bare back pressed against the weirdly textured leather, dripping and convulsing around the lecherous fingers of the same woman you’ve heard nothing but complaints about from your boss since you first began working under her. You’re sure that if Doctor Ziegler could see you now, she’d have you fired on the spot, —and something about that makes this so much fucking hotter.

You’re whimpering at every touch, so vulnerable for her eyes only. She prods at every inch of your insides she can touch, moving her fingers in time with every little noise that’s ripped from your throat, leaving you moaning like a slut in heat; and the cycle continues until your body has just had more than enough.

“Moira, I—” a breath cuts you off, nails scraping against that odd-feeling leather beneath you. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, holy shit—”

She doesn’t stop. She wouldn’t even dream of it when you’re begging like that, when the pretty pussy she’s hammering out with two fingers is just begging for every ounce of her desire and attention.

The knot inside you unravels, and she basks in the way you spasm around her digits, back arching up off the table. Moira lets you ride it out before slipping out, drawing a few lines up and down your glistening slit before pulling her hand away and reaching for the paper towl dispenser that hangs on the wall. She pats her hand dry and silently collects the clothes strewn about the room.

It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but you manage to redress without making a fool of yourself.

“A word of advice,” Moira finally speaks, “you’re a good time, and I’m sure an adaquate employee, —but acting isn’t much your forte. Next time Angela sends you here to spy on me, spare me the pleasantries and let’s just skip to the good part.”

You can feel your ears burning, but you force a nod anyway.

“Yes, Doctor.”

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nyctophiliq · 1 year

Note

hello my love ❤️

can I get some 😏 spicy headcanons for Moira, reaper, and ashe please because you are top tier

have a wonderful day ❤️❤️

LUSTFULLY YOURS ! mdni +18

minors dni; fem reader. nsfw ! — lowercase writing intended, masturbation, possessiveness, spanking, strap-on, tummy bulge, breeding, mention of creampie, aphrodisiac, blindfolds, choking,

moss' notes; HI TONBERRY, of course, lovely person, moss will do anything 😉 hope you have an even better day! these might be a little short, but hope you love them anyway !

⠀⠀( pairings . . . ) — moira, reaper, ashe + f! reader

— 𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐫𝐚

...dr o'deorian takes her research time very seriously, there mustn't be any interruption. when there is, she will have a sweet time punishing you. she loves spanking, 100 percent, and she doesn't even have to really keep track of how many slaps you have endured, you will do the counting, excitedly so.

moira doesn't have a preference for having you on your back or being face to face with you, that is the only way for her. she has to see you, and all the micro expressions your face makes when you are reaching your high.

remember the time you felt oh so hot, that the sheer touch of moira's skin ignited a flame inside you, that all you could think of is her, her, her, and only her? the moments leading up to you begging to her to do something was all thanks to the drink she offered you spiked with aphrodisiac. poor you,

— 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫

...gabriel isn't young but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the urges of a teenage boy. it happened only a handful of times that he went to a private setting where he can be by himself to pull both his phone with pictures of you and his dick out for a quick self-release. when confessing to you he can't explain why he does it, it just takes over him and he lets it.

as shy as he gets regarding masturbation, he is loud and proud about wanting to breed you. it is more about acting as if his sole goal of having sex with you fucking a baby into you than actually doing it. although it would be an honor to bear his offspring.

being it either from the back or the front, when reaper is getting to his own high he often if not always wraps his fingers around your throat. he never squeezes, only digs his nails slightly into your delicate flesh and when he finishes, man he is dragging his nails across your skin like a cat on a scratch toy.

— 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞

...elizabeth has a particular appetite for quickies, more or less because every time she sees you she just needs to make you hers, and those animals she keeps under her watch never try to take a chance with you or her. be prepared because her hand can appear at any moment up your skirt, or her perfectly manicured nails dig into the flesh of your shoulder and pushes you into a dark corner or quiet corridor of the base.

oh, how she loves to have you ride her like a good cowgirl, fit your pretty pussy with a nice girthy strap-on, fill you to the brim, and see that pretty bulge under your belly button when you thrust yourself forward. it's no question she would take pictures if she could, but she is too busy watching your pussy suck the toy in to actually remember to do it.

the silky red tie that sits so neatly on ashe's chest isn't always looking all fancy and ironed. the times she pulls it off it goes right over your eyes. it became crimpled, soaked with your tears and the delicate fabric is stretched as you struggle against the knot when it serves as wrist binds.

#📼 › moss tapes #moira x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch smut #overwatch x reader smut #moira x reader smut #overwatch reaper x reader #reaper x reader smut #ashe x reader #ashe x reader smut #overwatch ashe x reader smut #overwatch reaper x reader smut #overwatch moira x reader smut

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darling-answers · 5 months

Text

Breaking the bed/ Desk during Sex Talon Edition.

CLEARLY AS YOU SEE IN THE TITLE! NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BLOGS THAT ARE CLEARLY 18+

Don’t interact, try to send in request or even try to justify your being in my 18+ blogs I don’t wanna hear them nor you should be respecting my rules as I have just as good fanfic that aren’t 18+ go read those ones.

There not really like huge Warnings that are icky but some warning includes,

Praising, degrading, Mommy Kink, obviously talon being talon, AFAB reader, Some have you as the wife some are girlfriend, no reader is really invert, Akande has a more You POV and not the character pov, Boob Kink.

I promise if you send in a request I will try to get to you when I feel absolutely motivated and have inspiration to write yours.

Please please show me love and support I appreciate your guys kindness and even just sharing or reblogging goes a long way!

OVERWATCH continues here!

Reaper

Coming back from a Mission just trying to enjoy his Wife company with his new found sex drive, Moira Experiments recently made his Sex drive go sky rocket. It has been a couple of weeks since he had his own wife pussy sheath on his cock, not waiting to fill in the report to Akande. He instantly heads for his living quarters with his wife, luckily living in the talon base all other agents will do there own thing and leave him to spend quality time with his beautiful sexy wife of 13 years.

The music coming from a room deep inside the huge living quarters notify Gabriel this his wife was home and she was not notified that Gabriel was home, the moment the door slam open a yell was let out, there in all her glory the one person his cock been aching to be in contact with, his beautiful wife. His tent was showing through his pants as she didn’t even hide the obvious fact he was horny for some nice warm pussy. Unbuckling the belt she gently grabbed his wife hair by the hilt and guided her body over to the bed. Shoving her face into the pillow before she could even great him, he pulled her dress up. “ No underwear, what a slut of a woman you are, do you just walk around Talon Base showing off your cuny to whoever that desperate to look at a whore.”

Dragging his cock through his wife folds, he slowly spread her lips spitting at the sweet cunt that is so deliciously slick. He gently poke his cock through her hole, coming to sheath himself fully inside, slowly coming to pull out of her and slam harder into her. Grunts come tumbling out of his mouth as he lets out a hard sigh, he gains speed as moaning and whines follow out of his wife, holding onto the headboard the bed lets out a whole bunch of squeaks before a loud crash follows out, startling his wife cause a loud scream and the muscles of her body tenses

“Fuck! your tight!” His Teeth grits as he let out a grunt, coming to slowly rub at his wife hips, “ Easy, baby, easy your alright, fuck me it scared you didn’t you, I’m sorry I guess I went to hard, don’t worry you did nothing wrong.” He pulls out, his cock is still rock hard as he comes to turn his wife around and rub at her stomach massaging the muscles that were strain. He puts his dick back in his boxers as he lays right next to his obvious scared wife who clearly was startled by the bed breaking

Her heart is racing as Gabriel comes to slowly rub at his wife body laying passionate kisses and firm hands to steady his wife. “ I’m so sorry again I didn’t mean to cause you to worry about me.” You did nothing wrong, you the most amazing and important person ever, thank you for all you do when I go, don’t worry about sex we can always do it later.”

Sombra

“Oh mi corderito que estas tratando de hacerme, estas tratando de poner a prueba mi paciencia no sabia que podias ser tan travieso dejame verte, desnudate para mi." She let out a growl and a purr, disappearing from view coming up behind her girlfriend, as her girlfriend lifts up her shirt cold gloves come up to gently pull and push, swirling her girlfriends nipples coming up to gently push her girlfriend skirt letting her purple underwear be hooked underneath the hacker nails, stripping her off her underwear she comes to gently play with her girlfriend folds while messing with her boobs, “ Nena sabes cuanto me gusta jugar contigo, jugar con estas chicas grandes, deberías saber que no puedo evitar querer tocarte a ti y a esta cosa bonita de aquí abajo. “

coming to swirl her clit around she kissing her neck as she bends her girlfriend over her desk, were credit card information and the latest political stunt she found from hacking for the fun of it, “ Let me make you a Mami, let these tits filled with milk as you take such good care of our baby, she has your eye, and my skin tone, please let me cum inside you.” For the first time Olivia, not Sombra, whimper as she slowly finger her girlfriend swirling her fingers inside the wet cunt of her girlfriends, “ just let go, don’t you dare keep it from me.” Sombra grunts out rocking back in forth between shoving her fingers over and over inside her girlfriend cunt, slowly hitting that spot that causing stars to shift in her girlfriend eyes, blurry eyes and vision, Sombra whimper as she shoved her hips into her girlfriend causing the desk to slowly break from under them making both of them slam into the floor, poor computer cracked but not broken, on the screen data slowly sent to all of talon high member phone. “ Olivia my, hips hurt now! I can’t feel my legs!”

She whimpers as she turns her head to look at her girlfriend who is smirking, head prop up from her elbow. “ we should do that again. Maybe instead of doing it in our room, we could have fun and use The Laboratory.” “ isn’t that M-Moira O’Deorain practical living place, she has never come out of the laboratory unless she has a mission, wouldn’t that make her mad?” “ she can piss off she already made me mad what fun would it be to get revenge!”

Sigma

don’t you even dare try to touch my baby, 😒 I love him so lemme give him some platonic affection and energy this is him breaking something but this is all just platonic.

“ Boo! I got you!.” Sigma wife shouted as she raised her hands, causing her husband who was deep in thought about the ants and fairies. The stuff around them started floating as she let out a little snort realizing that her husband was not in control with his gravity as his hand shook as he let out more stressful mumbles as he frantically moved around not noticing his wife casually floating as she gently pushed her hair down that keep coming up and higher till it couldn’t pull up anymore.

“ Mr Kruiper it time for you to come back to me now.” She a soft smile fills her face as she felt her husband look at her, “ I- I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” She felt Sigma slowly moved towards her and flat her hair that kept moving up, she was slowly pulled to the floor as object smash into the ground around them causing a groan from a passing high officer of talon, “ you did nothing wrong Bebe, let just clean up this mess together.” She mumbles as a sweet tone is filled within seibren brain as he happily giggles and start cleaning up the mess around them with his gravity, “ I’m so sorry for scaring you hun I never intended to you be to far in that headspace.” “ it alright you love me and I know that :D.”

Widowmaker

The feeling of a spider crawling into the nest that laid the innocent creature who was the center of attention. That was the feeling that both Lacroix, no widowmaker, and her innocent girlfriend bound by. No one would be breaking the web that Lacroix made for her girlfriend, not even Moira would have her hands near it,

“ Stay still for Maman a besoin que tu te détendes, tu es trop dans ta tête. Laisse-toi aller pour maman, n'essaie pas de lutter, nous y voilà, oui bébé, tu te sens si bien et si serré pour maman" Lacroix mumbled as she gently push you to ride her, bringing your hips to go down and up, trying to ride her without her guidance would be to hard for the small headspace your overdriven into. Coming to gently hold onto Lacroix breast squishing and gently push it and rubbed it, bouncing her hip up and down she let out a whine and a moan as she leaned in to kiss her Maman, “ Mummy! Mummy please, oh god oh god!” She tighten the hold of her grip on her maman breast as her cunt tighten on the strap that Widowmaker kept bouncing her on, cum started to drip all over the strap as a loud break and crash hit the couple as Lacroix let out a big sigh keeping the tight grip onto her girlfriend,

Il est temps de trouver un nouveau lit, non seulement tu m'as chevauché jusqu'à ce que notre lit soit littéralement cassé, mais maintenant le lit est tellement dangereux que nous ne pouvons pas dormir dessus." She mumbles as she come to squeeze her girlfriend butt as she gently lifted her girlfriend off the big purple strap, cum lays onto the French women lap as Lacroix gently pat her girlfriend hair coming up to gently pull a blanket over her body and pull her into another spare room of the apartment, “ this is vexing but we will make do with it until I can get a new bed for us, this time let not have you break it.” She mumbles shyly as she gently picked her girlfriend up placing her on the bed to come over and give her girlfriend as much care as she could give to someone.

Moira

“ oh, how pitiful you must be, coming to me to satisfied your urges, acting like a newborn fawn wanting there Mummy, if you really are that pitiful then me rejecting you should cause you no harm, you can whine and whimper but that will not change my mind, I have work to do go bother some other soul.” Moira let out a tisk going back to doing her latest experiment completely ignoring her wife that was horny and being difficult, normally if her wife said she had things to do she would pout and just let it go until later on, but no, she was needy and not even The Scientific Community would grasp her away from her wife. Moira let out a grunt went hands come to find her waist tugging her away from her excitement, cold slinder hands slowly come to grab around the hair of Moira wife. “ you can’t even control yourself, how can you live knowing that you will do anything to satisfy your urges, does dignity not matter to you?”

She comes to sit down in her office chair picking her wife up by the arms and laying her over her manspread legs, her butt high in the air, Moira landed spank after spank onto her wife butt as muffled wailing was heard coming from the laboratory, flipping her wife over she comes to swaddle her wife like a new born baby, gently opening up her coat letting sucking filled the laboratory, “ you do understand that your little breaks you make me take causing us to waste time with the scientific process that I have dedicated decades to. It not that I don’t appreciate you but you should learn that greedy will only get you so far.” Moira mumbles brushes few strands out of her wife hair as she suckles on her breast, gently lifting up her wife she puts her on the table after

Shooing the lab papers away from the table having them fall to the ground, removing her lab coat as her button up shirt was let open, she slowly unbuckle her pants grabbing her strap throwing lube on it from in the draw ( she doesn’t just use lube for sex, but other expirements.) She gently started rocking into her Wife, coming to slammed deep inside her over and over, her red hair getting in the way of some part of her vision as all she can see is the sweet delicious feeling of her wife cunts deeply nestled into her strap, almost like it was made for her. She lets out a hum as she racked her nails across her wide body as she comes to gently push a little to far into the table causing one of the legs of the table to get out. She stops and looks over at the broken table leg and just hums out a “ what if I test the theory of how much this table pressure can handle before it falls out? Maybe I can make use of this.”

Akande

( it wouldn’t let me add one more photo in so now I have to make do with what I have.)

“ we need to be more careful this bed can not hold on any longer then we have already went through.” he mumbled as he gripped your hand in between his face slowly coming to get in between your neck and shoulder. Letting out smooth kisses onto your neck all the way up until your lips he slowly pushed in further as his hips connected to your pelvic bone a big noticeable bump for throughout your tummy, a whine was it out of your lips as you felt Akande bring your hands down to your stomach so that you could feel how deep he was inside of you, his big hands fit with yours as he brings it back up over yours head restraining you from moving any further than where you were. He let you chuckle. as he starts seeing the bruising, that was there last time, you guys had sex slowly start forming again. Becoming big red spots to Light bruising.

“ you do know I do not have all day to entertain your thought. Well I do appreciate you and this amazing pussy. I have other… Negotiables to attend to so I cannot stay longer than I wish to. You will see me tonight and tonight will be an even better night than what it is now just you wait.” He mumbled into your ear as his big hand coming to hold onto the headboard cause it to snap into pieces of sheer strength, he let out a sigh as it has already happened before, as he slowly move some pieces of wood out of your hair.

We will need to buy a bigger bed. Soon we have already had to thrown away the others because of it, contact my company and see if we can get a new bed as soon as possible for now we will have to sleep in this spare bedroom, I apologize my love.” taking the hands of his lover, he slowly lifted her up with one arm, coming to gently have her in the bathtubs making sure to let out smooth bubbly water come to wash away her aching muscles as he mumbled something about the fact he didn’t get to cum and neither do you, but the safety of yours was more of a priority than anything.

#overwatch #overwatch x reader #darlingfics #overwatch smut #Talon x reader #moira x reader #sombra x reader #widowmaker x reader #sigma x reader #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #Akande x reader #overwatch headcanons

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overwatchforthesoul · 2 months

Text

Moira Relationship Headcannons

(SFW & NSFW)

Note: Hello! Here’s the first post, I had to make it for my sadistic gf! I hope y’all enjoy!

She’s very doting, but in a very subtle, almost annoyed way.

It’s honestly super endearing, once you realize she isn’t actually annoyed with you asking for help and things.

Example: She will find something you’ve taken hours to look for in a matter of minutes, and she’ll just scoff, roll her eyes, and crack a slight smile at your bewildered expression. She’ll gently drop the item into your hands as she pats your head a few times, before turning on her heel to continue whatever experiment you’ve distracted her from.

When she plans on working late in the lab, or has to go away on a mission, she will always have an entire date day for you two before she leaves.

It’s her way of apologizing for making you wait for her.

She’s definitely a workaholic, so you might have to help her out of the lab after a few days of no sleep in the beginning of your relationship.

She learns to regulate it more as you become more concerned.

She’s not very big on affection, especially in public. She’s most likely to let you hold on to her arm at most, but that’s mainly to keep track of you.

At home, she’ll allow the full spectrum of affection, however she does get overstimulated by to much of it.

However, she’s always willing to be the big spoon for you whenever you need.

I like to think Moira is pretty possessive over her pet (you).

Because of that, she would likely have you be her stay at home partner as soon as you express feelings of not wanting to work.

She doesn’t truly want to isolate you, but she likes the thought of being the center of your universe.

That being said, she’s also likely to be this way in the bedroom. However, she can fully let out her obsessive desires in these situations, because your body is all hers.

She likes to make you feel beneath her, like your desperate for her.

In sessions where she doesn’t want to be as dominate, she’ll let you take the reigns for the most part, but you and she know that with one word you’d be at her beck and call.

She isn’t particularly rough with you, opting for a slower, more experimental pace. She likes to ruin you but in the most meticulous way.

After care is always wonderful with her no matter how hard the scene is. She always knows how to get you back into a normal head space.

Overall, Moira is a caring partner, even though she may seem a bit cold. She will always know what you need when you need it, and will always be there to pick you up when you need it.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch smut #overwatch #moira overwatch #moira o'deorain #talon #moira x reader #moira smut #overwatch headcannons

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mekakitsune · 1 year

Note

could you do some moira romantic and nsfw headcanons? she got me in a chokehold frfr

moira nsfw hcs || cw: mind breaking, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics

moira looks after her experiments, you mustn't disobey her rules for you, she knows whats best and always has.

follow her orders and you will be rewarded. shes patient, allowing you to fix your mistakes, but you must not make the same mistake again.

if you happen to disobey her? she will ignore you. ignore your pleas for her to touch you, use you, even speak to you. takes it too far, by the time she decides you are ready for her words, you are a mess, tears streaming down your face as you sit pitifully at her feet, muttering apologies.

you want her to speak? so be it. she will remind you of everything you did to make her angry, calling you names, reminding you of your place. breaking you down with venom in her voice.

"after all i do for you...what a shame" she spits, fingers laced in your hair. "get up."

she tugs your hair as she pulls you to your feet. you are standing in front of her fully clothed form, while you are completely bare.

"sit." she gestures to her lap. you hesitated, straddling her with a false hope of affection.

her hands find your hips, and you want to cry again. her fingers are mean, pressing bruises into plush skin.

you want to fall foward, into her chest, but you know not to touch without permission.

"if you want to cum, do it yourself. right here." her voice is low, making shivers run down your spine at her tone. you feel her thigh move between your legs, pressing harshly against your exposed cunt.

whining at the contact, you move your hips, humping her thigh as she watches you closely. she doesnt say anything, only deep exhales coming from her as you ruin her slacks.

"i-im close...please" you sob, needing her to do something, anything.

"already? arent you pathetic.." she coos. suddenly she stops you, moving her fingers past your hip, allowing them to dip into your pussy. you cry out in relief, hips bucking as you ride her fingers. her thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles that push you over the edge.

"cum then. go on little one..." she removes her fingers from your dripping hole, focusing her attention to you throbbing clit. she rubs hard and fast as you fall into her chest, sobbing as you are pushed over the edge, cunt spasming painfully around nothing.

shes ruined your orgasm, but you cant say you care. the neglectful behaviour made you greatful for anything she gave you. crying softly, she moves you onto a table, lab equipment falls to the ground as she towers over you.

"i wont remind you again. listen to what you are told, or i will find someone else to play with." her fingers grip your chin, eyes dark. you nod dumbly.

nobody knows you like her. she knows what you need. she will always take care of you. you just need to listen to her, or pay the price of disobedience.

#aorry this has been in my inbox for weeks )):#overwatch fic #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #moira o'deorain #moira x reader #moira smut #moira o'deorian smut #overwatch smut #nsfw.mp3 🫧

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uunromanticized · 5 months

Text

like lovers do | moira nsfw headcanons

𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓.

cw: overstim, edging, safewords mentioned, degrading, praise, hand kink mention

authors notes: ermmm. first nsfw post ever. okay. minors do not interact or ill krill u. mutuals from anywhere else you never saw this. anyways this is entirely self indulgent. i like moira. she has nice hands.

moira who doesn’t have much of a sex drive, but just adores seeing how you look while trembling underneath her

moira who knows every sweet spot of your body to a t, who’s constantly poking and prodding and kissing them

moira who also knows what every little reaction you make means. she’s just so observant, especially whenever it comes to you.

moira who punishes you in one of two ways; constant edging, never letting up until your pretty tears fall down your face only to ruin your orgasm anyways. or, constant overstimulation; she will never let up even when you’re a mess. you asked for it from her, after all. she’s just giving you what you wanted.

moira who absolutely loves breaking you down and then building you back up again. constant degrading. you will never feel unloved, though, because she’s sure to sprinkle in just enough praise.

moira who puts just as much trust in you as you do her. you’re both eachothers, after all.

moira who stops the second you respond in a different way than usual to ask if you need to use your safeword

moira who knows you have a thing for her hands, purposefully keeps them out of view occasionally just to see how you’ll react. other times, she’s shoving her fingers into your mouth

moira who constantly makes you act as a pillow princess. she doesn’t let you do the work, it’s always her, especially whenever her strap is inches deep in you.

moira who loves leaving bruises from her nail marks on your hips

moira who loves the feeling of your hands desperately gripping onto her

moira who knows you both love eachother unconditionally as the night comes to a close

#overwatch #overwatch smut #moira o'deorain #moira x reader #moira odeorain #moira overwatch #moira o’deorain x reader #overwatch x reader

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acradelius · 23 days

Note

hi! could you do a dom, giving moira and sub, receiving fem reader? i love how you write her :) maybe some action in her office/lab with a strap too ? tysm!

"Let's See How Well You Handle This One, Coinín~"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Female! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: MDNI, Implied Non-Established/Possibly "Secretive" Relationship, Scientist / Scientist Assistance Relationship, Female x Female Relationship, Female Pronouns For Reader, Dominant! Female x Submissive! Female, "Mean, Punishing"! Moira, Possessive! Moira If You Squint, Strap-on Usage - Giving! Moira/Receiving! Reader, Clit Teasing, Nipple Play, Silicone P in V, Orgasm, Teasing With Cock-warming.

Word Count: 768 Words

Notes: This piece is technically considered to be a sequel part to this piece: "Quite The Punishment, Isn't It?"

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, for certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Those neat stacks of paper of research from the laboratory assistants that had taken quite some time to go through and essentially grade were now a disheveled mess amongst the floor, yet, Moira didn’t necessarily care for that at this moment. Why would Moira need to worry about some feeble papers about research that she was probably already aware about when she has something better presented in front of her? Despite that she was completely flustered, her skin slightly flushed from the situation at hand, that (Y/N) still looked absolutely stunning laying bare naked on Moira’s desk, clothes tossed aside on the floor to be forgotten about for the time being. “You did such a job well done, my dear Coinín~ While I would state that I’m surprised that you made it through the presentation without completely losing yourself to the immense please, you’ve been alongside me for quite some time now, so possibly you’re growing familiar to the punishments that I put you through~”

Moira could essentially state anything that she wants in that moment, but (Y/N)’s too preoccupied with the sight in front of herself despite laying on the desk to actually give a response. Especially since it was finally there for (Y/N) to actually view, for her to actually get to touch and experience with, that special gift that Moira had been hinting at for the last couple of weeks now. A custom made strapon. Being seven inches in length and three inches in width, colored with swirls of a glittering gold and an enigmatic purple from the tip down to the base of the cock. How it’s snuggly strapped onto Moira’s hips to rest against her pelvic, and how it just naturally blends in with Moira’s persona and aesthetic. Even for a moment (Y/N) swears that she could even see the cock throbbing, but it could be the arousal that was overtaking her mind.

There’s a brief moment where she proceeds to close her eyes in a moment of pleasure that courses throughout her body as Moira teasingly brushes the tip of the silicone cock against (Y/N)’s clit, chuckling softly. “Such an easy one to tease, such an easy one to please, aren’t you my dear Coinín?~” Watching as (Y/N)’s thighs twitch, clenching together slightly whenever that brief overwhelming rush washes over her body. Moira’s fingers trailing across (Y/N)’s skin, leaving lingering trails of an arousing fire, stopping amongst the various imperfections upon her skin as moreso a sign of reassurance that Moira loved (Y/N)’s body no matter how it looked. Gentle pinching and pulling at her nipples until they begin to perk and harden. Such a beautiful canvas waiting to be made into something more personal by Moira herself~

“More, please, Moira!~ F-Fuck, feels so good!~” (Y/N) manages to speak the words in between relentless moans and desperate whines, all those noises leaving her due to Moira’s rough, fast paced thrusts. Moira doesn’t mind that her thrusting is causing the desk to scrape against the floor, creating a loud scratching noise to echo throughout the air and scuff up the floor, she’ll get that fixed later. How (Y/N)’s fingers are tightly gripping the sides of the desk so much that they’re turning white, a feeble attempt to keep herself positioned on the desk despite moving quotes often from the force. A shiver courses throughout (Y/N)’s body at the additional sensations of Moira entangling her fingers within (Y/N)’s hair and firmly giving a yank followed by her other hand harshly smacking (Y/N)’s ass, a grin forming on her lips as the handprint, begins to form bright red and slightly irritated.

“Fuck!-” It’s quick to overcome and cause haywire to all of (Y/N)’s senses, the intense orgasm that finally unravels within (Y/N). How her body begins to tremble against Moira’s while her cunt flutters and proceeds to clench and unclench around Moira’s cock. Closing her eyes, (Y/N) lays her head amongst the desk as shaky breaths make way from her lips, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. Only Moira knows how to give her pleasure beyond what she could imagine, and therefore, Moira is the only one that (Y/N) strives to be with, especially in moments as intimate as this one. “Such a job well done, (Y/N)~ Giving me excellent results as always~ Now, my dear Coinín, let’s see how long you can last keeping my cock warm while I grade the rest of these papers~”

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #moira overwatch #overwatch moira #moira o'deorain #moira x reader #moira x female reader #x female reader #x female smut #lemon rating #requests?! thank you<3

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overwatchfics · 1 year

Note

Hii i’m the one who asked for the moira hq’s, do you think it could be a nsfw alphabet instead? 😣

NSFW Alphabet - Moira

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): Shut up, only silence and touch. Moira isn't really a talkative lover when she's intimate. She'll hold you, however she prefers silence, and maybe a couple words of affirmation. If you try to talk to her, expect only hums in reply as she groans tiredly into your neck.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Of herself? Probably her hair. Moira takes a lot of pride in keeping her hair styled. Of you? Probably your neck, Moira doesn't do well with intimate eye contact, so she'll bury herself in your neck instead.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) No, sorry, she is getting the towels. She is kind of a neat freak, also is meh about cum tbh.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Loves when you call her doctor in bed, it REALLY gets her going.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) She fooled around in her younger years, but it's been a while for sure.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Lotus hands down. Likes to have you in her lap.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Not goofy at all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Up to you reader.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) For Moira, it's either very romantic (her sense of it at least) or a stress fuck. She will angry fuck you before breaking down in your arms.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): Rarely, but still does.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): Bondage, roleplay, use of aphrodisiacs, light degradation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) The Lab, office, or bedroom. No and's ifs for buts about it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): Calling her doctor, Her own anger sex is kind of an unhealthy channel for that anger tbh she needs to talk about her problems please talk to this woman she needs help, and jaw caresses.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) I really don't know with Moira, I feel like she doesn't mind the edge of danger, so do expect to be played with a little dangerously. No talking during sex, that is a big pet peve, names and an occasional sentence is ok, but it's a huge turn off for her.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Loves receiving it, not too fond of giving it, but she is proficient if you ask nicely of her.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Slow and sensual, but if she's angry she is rough with pace. Usually aggressively fast, her nails digging and clawing into your skin as she rolls her hips harshly into yours against her lab table.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Nope, not for her.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Big risk taker, she lives at the edge of danger.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Not long, Moira doesn't have the best endurance, but she'll try.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No, she misuses extra lab equipment. She might have a strap or a butt plug, but that's as much as I can think rn.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Depends on the mood, if she's feeling a little sadistic, oh yeah.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) louder than you'd think, loud groans and grunts.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Has misused biotic orbs.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) up to you reader.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Mild, once a week?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Normal sex, she falls asleep last, if it's angry sex she collapses on the bed and passes out.

#moira o'deorain #moira x reader #overwatch 2 #ow2 #overwatch x reader smut #overwatch x reader #overwatch #fanfiction

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kuramassss · 8 days

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Im gonna start write fanfics with characters x reader, so im taking requests for:

DC Fem characters:

Raven

White Canary

Black Canary

Black Siren

Laurel Lance

Thea Queen

Sara Lance

Harley Quinn

CW Characters:

Supergirl

Kara Danvers

Alex Danvers

Overgirl

Red Daugher

Nia Zal

Black Canary

Black Siren

Laurel Lance

Sara Lance

Ava Sharp

Charlie

Caitlyn Snow

Killer Frost

Thea Queen

Shado

Jessie Wells

Overwatch Characters:

Ashe

Tracer

Widowmaker

D.Va

Ana Amar

Pharah

Mercy

Mei

Bridget

Junker Queen

Echo

Moira Odelion

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ddollipop · 7 months

Text

TILL I'M FINALLY FIXED. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — you know this is a nasty habit, but it's not one you're willing to break until it breaks you first .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , explicit age difference , references to power imbalances , oral sex , cunnilingus , dom!moira , sub!reader , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , praise , sort of birthday sex , collaring , mentions of alcohol (past) , mentions of smoking + cigarettes , toxic relationship dynamics , explicit references to mommy issues , implied rough childhood (reader) , usage of a sex toy (vibrator) , thigh riding , multiple positions , multiple orgasms .

#. word count! — 4.1k .

You know you shouldn’t be here, —but here you are yet again, coming to Moira’s every beck and call. All it took was one text and you’re standing in front of her door in a nice little dress that won’t stay on for much longer anyhow, but you wanted to wear it because you bought it less for yourself and more for her. You want her to see you in it, take a moment to admire the way it flatters your figure, hugs all the right places, let her eyes rake over you like you’re some kind of fine arts exhibit before she takes her sweet time stripping it off and tossing it to the wayside. And then you’re sure she’ll trail those nails of hers along the bare skin of your arms, toying with the straps of your lacy bra before she finally unhooks it from the back and discards of it as well, leaving lipstick stains on your chest when her mouth meets your skin. She’ll whisper that you’re pretty, and you might just believe it for the night, and then she’ll make you believe it when she kisses you hard enough to steal your breath away, and—

Your thoughts still when she opens the door for you, giving you a knowing smirk. There was never a question of if you were coming, just one of how quickly you’d be arriving, and here you are, even though you shouldn’t be. She invites you inside and lingers behind you under the guise of closing the door, but you can feel her piercing stare on your body as she flips the lock. You leave your heels at the door, as always.

No, it’s not a good idea to be back here again, but you’ve convinced yourself by now that sometimes it’s okay to live a little. Moira is a lot of things, but she’s someone you trust enough to let see you in very vulnerable positions, and you like to think that’s enough. It might be a naive perspective to have on the matter, —but that’s to be expected of you, so young and pliable. You met Moira on the night of your twenty-first birthday, celebrating alone at a bar where she was sipping on straight whiskey while you nursed a poorly prepped martini (and found that alcohol in general just isn’t much to your taste.)

Nearly thirty years your senior, she felt like she was taking a chance on you that night. It’d been a rough day, and she’d gone so long only caring about her work and all the ways she was looking to change the world that her desire to want and be wanted had since fallen to the wayside. But there you were with those lost, innocent eyes, glancing around like you hadn’t a clue what you were doing (because you didn’t.) She was so confident and smooth in the way she moved down the bar to sit next to you, then let her hand rest on your thigh after a few minutes of chit-chat. One thing led to another, she bought you a few drinks to try, and then took you to a nearby hotel for the night where she sank her teeth in deep enough to keep you around for a while.

Nearing twenty-two and just as eager to please her, you accept her kiss with parted lips, letting her tongue rake itself over yours.

“You’re beautiful as ever,” she says, running the back of her slender index finger down the length of your cheek, “—is that a new dress you’ve got on?”

You know it doesn’t mean anything that she noticed. Not really, anyway. It’s in her job description to be observant, and her memory is impeccable, and yet you let it get to you that she noticed. You let yourself think that she really does care beyond what you’ve got between your legs that she really likes to press her mouth against until you’re left a quivering mess.

“Yeah, it is,” you nod, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I thought I’d treat myself. Do you like it?”

“I do,” she confirms, letting her eyes trail down the length of you once more. “An early birthday present to yourself, I presume?”

“You remembered?”

She remembered. Heaven help you, she makes this so much more complicated than it needs to be. Or, she helps you make it much more complicated than it needs to be, anyway. You know it’s a fool’s game to chase after her like she’s some kind of prize to be won, but. . . She’s so mature, and she makes you feel so special.

Long story short, you’ve got a down-bad case of mommy issues, but when you’re all tied up in Moira’s arms and she’s kissing every inch of you, wanting you down to the marrow, —it’s hard to let yourself be sad.

“Of course I remembered,” she replies so tenderly.

But tender like a bruise.

“Come, I got you something,” she beckons, moving her hand from your cheek and down to your wrist.

Moira pulls you along to her bedroom, the one you’ve been in many times before with a large sliding-glass door that leads to a balcony overlooking the city below. You’re not sure how much her rent is each month for this luxury apartment of hers, but you know it can’t be cheap. Sometimes you stand with her outside in the late night air, one of her button-up shirts hanging down to your kness with nothing but panties underneath after a nice time together. She’ll smoke a cigarette under the moonlight and press it to your lips every now and again, letting you take small hits that you never really breathe in.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything,” you tell her in earnest. “Besides, my birthday isn’t for a few more days. . .”

“Oh, hush,” she tells you, sounding more playful than scolding as she hands you a gift bag.

It’s a solid crimson color, which you can’t help but think is oddly befitting of her. There’s no glitter, frills, or ribbons, no bells and whistles to name, so you move to open it, but glance up at her in hesitation, as if asking for permission. She nods, to which you swallow and push some of the tissue paper aside, digging your hand into the bag until you touch something smooth toward the bottom.

Confused, you pull the item out and feel your face heat up. It’s a leather collar.

“Do you like it?” She inquires, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I think you should try it on.”

You nod and hand it over to her, pushing your hair out of the way so she can fasten it around your throat. It seems like such an easy process for her, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s ever done such a thing with anyone else. Once it’s secured, she moves in front of you and takes a step back, admiring the accessory.

“What do you think?” You ask, sounding somewhat sheepish.

“What a sight you are to behold, a ghrá,” she hums. “It even matches your dress.”

Black leather with a little black dress, it’s kind of hard to go wrong there.

“Come,” she all but coos, taking a seat on the edge of her king-sized bed right next to the oakwood nightstand.

It has three drawers, the top of which is always filled with various items you’ve had on or inside you over the past year; a few vibrators, various lubricants in different flavors, body oils, —and now, a silver chain. . . Like the kind you might use to keep a dog in place for a bit or curl around your bike to stop it from getting stolen. You stand between her thighs as she lets the length of it fall to the floor. Your guess would be that it’s only five feet or so long, but you’re sure she’ll make do with it just fine.

“Lean down for me,” she requests, and you do, no questions to be asked on the matter.

Moira smirks as she hooks the chain to the collar on your neck.

“Such an obedient thing, aren’t you?” She quips, then gives the chain a little yank for good measure. “Kneel.”

She feels her hunger grow the moment you comply so easily, as if she’s your master and you’ve been trained ever so perfectly to follow her every command without question.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, wrapping the metal links around her knuckles, then folding her fingers back over them.

She places a fingernail beneath your chin and tilts your gaze up until you’re transfixed on her irises.

“You’re so pretty like this, did you know that?” She inquires rhetorically.

The nail against your skin becomes the whole of her palm against your cheek. Her hand is cold, but you can’t seem to care beyond the brief initial shock.

“Don’t think your efforts go unnoticed, darling, I know exactly who you purchased that dress for,” Moira smirks. “And I’m enjoying every moment of seeing you in it, just as you intended.”

And that’s really all it takes. This love might bleed like an open wound, might fester until you stitch it up again, —but it’s here that you don’t mind all the nights you craved validation for every good deed that went unnoticed. Maybe Moira isn’t praising your straight A’s or being proud of just how much like her you look, but what’s the fucking difference if it fills the same void? What does it really matter if it helps?

“Open,” she utters, and as you do, she places two fingers from her opposite hand against the flat of your tongue, drawing little circles in your saliva.

Then she rests an elbow against her knee and leans down a little lopsidedly, replacing her fingers with her lips, kissing you sloppily, capturing your mouth and keeping you there until she’s had her fill of it. When she breaks away, you feel her fingers searching for your dress’s zipper along the back.

“I really hate to see this go so soon, but certain sacrifices are in order,” she sighs a little playfully, tugging the zipper down about halfway before standing upright and using the chain on your neck to pull you with her.

On your feet again, she helps you out of your dress and makes a show of folding it ever so neatly, then placing it on the nightstand in front of her lamp and her alarm clock that’s woken you up too soon far too many times for your liking. Moira lays you down on her bed, and it’s so large that it reminds you of the one you’d search for at night when bad dreams took hold of your fragile little heart and squeezed just hard enough to crush it into pieces at will. Only this time, there’s warmth awaiting your endeavors, and you’re not a lowly little child that has to beg for affection.

She rubs a few teasing lines down your slit through the black lace of your panties, teasing you briefly with her touch. For as long as you’ve known her, Moira has never been very keen on reciprocation, preferring to give rather than take. She likes the control and the motions of it all, likes to know that she has the upper hand, —and she always does when she’s with you.

It’s only been a few moments, but it feels like a lifetime and then some by the time she hooks her fingers under the waistband of your underwear and begins to tug them down your thighs. You feel the scratch of the materials against your flesh as you lift your hips off the sheets to make it easier, and she’s much less careful with your panties than she was with your dress just a bit ago. They wind up somewhere on the floor at the foot of her bed.

You gasp a bit when the pad of her thumb slips past your lips and nudges along your clit almost instantaneously. The quick reaction makes her snicker a bit.

“Sensitive as ever,” She comments offhandedly.

The unspoken part of that is something along the lines of I’ve always loved that about you.

After a year’s worth of hookups, late nights, and hellishly early mornings spent together, Moira is virtually an expert in all things pertaining to you. Such is only exemplified by the way she teases you for a bit with her tongue before letting it slip past your lips to lap at your inner folds.

You choke on a few curse words just above her, already clawing at the sheets as she flicks her tongue against you, pulling the chain that still remains clutched in her hand a bit tighter. It’s not enough to cause any pain, but it squeezes your neck from the back and makes it ever so slightly harder to take in gasping breaths of air.

She was more than right when she called you sensitive, —both to her touch and everything else about her. You’ve always been so eager to make her happy, and she loves that about you. You’d jump through rings of fire for her, and she knows it.

The mixture of your arousal and her spit makes for a delicious squelshing sound at every move she makes, tongue thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, abusing your clit for her pleasure while you whine and whimper above her. This kind of pleasure has always felt overwhelming in a good way; the kind that gets your blood pumping, heart racing, and inhabitions lowered enough to fall for someone like her, even when you know it’s bad for you.

Moira feels the stress of her work and the critics of her methods melt away when her tongue is busy torturing you so sweetly, lapping at every glistening inch she can. She’s mind-numbingly thorough, and it leaves your thighs quivering long before your orgasm begins to prickle just under your skin. For as good as she is with words, it comes as no surprise that she’s just as skilled with her tongue in all areas of her life.

It doesn’t take much more of this to have you cumming on her tongue, cunt spasming so helplessly under her touch.

Fuck, you’d do anything to have her like this every night when she gets in from work and needs something —someone— to take her frustrations out on. You’ve always been good for that.

“Tired?” She muses, regarding you a bit sweetly as she sits upright and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her button-up shirt.

“Just a bit,” you answer, breathing slightly easier now that she isn’t pulling as harshly on the chain clipped to your throat.

“Not tired enough to stop now, I’d hope?”

What you really wanna say is that you’d never stop until she told you that you could, gave you explicit confirmation that enough was enough, —but you can’t. You know deep down that it’d scare her off, and you just couldn’t handle that kind of rejection, so you shake your head instead.

“Good,” Moira replies. “It’d be a shame to pause here when I have so much planned for you tonight. That was merely the tip of the iceberg.”

An appetizer, one she was wetting her chops with.

She digs around in that drawer next to her bedside, pulling a vibrator from the inside. You’re not so sure she’s ever used this one on you before, but if there’s one thing Moira always knows how to do right, it’s give you pleasure, so you resign yourself to laying there on her bed as she presses one of the pebble-like buttons on the shaft and feels the item begin to shake in her hand.

“Turn over,” she quips, thinking you’ve had enough cool-down time between sets of stimulation, —and you do, hiking your ass into the air and speading your thighs apart to give her ample access.

You feel her nails scratch thoughtfully over your goosebump-ridden skin, pausing for a moment to knead at your flesh a few times. Then she runs a hand down to the small of your back, wordlessly encouraging you to rest your head against the mattress and let her get to work. A needy moan is drawn from your parted lips the very second she presses the vibrator to your pussy lips, causing shivers to wrack through your body.

The soft hum of the toy speeds up into more of a whirring sound as she increases the tenacity and pushes it inward, slipping past your folds to pulsate against your desperate clit. Moira seems rather satisfied with the sounds you’re making, even as she reaches just under your body to snatch the chain still dangling from around your neck. You feel it jostle as she wraps it around her knuckles once, then twice, pulling taunt while she begins drawing blissful shapes into your snatch that have your eyes rolling back into your head.

Then from the soft melody of the toy’s buzz came a sudden crescendo into a firm, droning noise that made you cry out a bit from the intensity.

“Ah,” Moira says, almost in amusement, “I take it that’s the one?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, the word coming out so ruined by no fault of your own.

“Very well,” she notes, swirling the tip against your clit again before pulling away and repeating.

It’s like she’s teasing you, though you’re not sure if that’s the intention of it all. Either way, you make no attempt to complain. It’s impossible to even think about doing so when you’ve got stars swashing across your vision. You’re sure you’d have been drooling between your legs by now, dripping all over her sheets, if not for the knob of the vibrator catching and returning it, slicking you up even more.

Your neck is beginning to ache from the position you’re laying in, but you ignore the signs from your body to move and find a more comfortable posture. All you can focus on is the heat between your legs and the toy she’s now pressing so roughly against you that you can practically feel the vibrations in your womb. The pressure builds once again, your stomach twisting into knots, —and then you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as an orgasm wracks through your body. It was so much easier to elicit the second time around, almost enough for you to be embarrassed.

Moira pulls the toy away slowly, letting your lips kiss it softly goodbye as she switches it back to a stationary position.

“To your liking, I take it?” She asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Yeah,” you huff, “—definitely.”

It just always is when you’re with her, no matter what she does, or even if she only uses what she has readily available. Anything she offers is enough. You’d do anything just touch her, feel her skin against yours, feel her lips ghost against you like they always do. You’re left to toe another dangerous line between ecstasy and infatuation.

She tugs the chain and you find yourself on your knees, kneeling a bit unsteadily on your thighs that haven’t quite stopped quivering just yet. You lower your ass to your heels on the mattress as she wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you a bit closer to trail some peppered kisses down your jaw. It’s hard not to feel special when you have her like this, —when she showers you in all the adoration you missed out on in your younger years. Sure, maybe it’s not the same, and maybe it is just placing a bandaid over a gash deep enough to need stitches, but it’s the best you can do. There’s no amount of therapy that can really change the past, and if Moira is what it takes for you to feel like you’re worth something for a while, then so fucking be it.

By now, your pussy’s sopping wet and swollen, but still in desperate need of her attention. Moira kisses you again, but your lips this time, slipping her tongue into your mouth and swapping your spit for her own.

You swallow down the I love you that rises in the back of your throat like bile. You can’t say that. . . You won’t. You can think it all you want, because she can’t read your mind (as much as it feels like she can sometimes) —but you can’t say it out loud. Not when you know it means throwing away this already pitifully fragile balance.

“Come,” she says simply, moving to sit at the head of her bed, long legs stretched out and clothed in black dress pants with the texture of rough denim.

She situates you as she pleases, one leg on either side of her right thigh, one hand on your hip to keep you steady while the other fiddles with the chain. She coaxes you down until your pussy is flat against her, taking in a sharp breath from the warmth and the friction.

“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?” She comments, both hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your bra, —the last item of clothing left on your frame.

Once it’s shed, she gives you another look-over, admiring you like she’s never seen you this way before.

“Your wrists,” she requests, to which you comply so obediently, like a pet she’s trained ever so well.

Moira wraps the length of the chain around your wrists a few times, tucking the end through the space in the middle. Under any other circumstances, you’d have easily been able to wriggle your way free, but you allow yourself to be bound for the sake of her pleasure; leaning forward to rest against her shoulder.

“Sweet thing,” she murmurs. “One more? They say third time’s the charm, after all.”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, even at the risk of coming on a little too strong.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to mind the intensity of the statement and appears to chalk it up to pillow talk.

With both of her hands free now, she plants one on each side of your hips, nails digging slightly into the plush of your skin. A whine clings to the back of your throat as she guides you, coaxing you into a subtle grind against her clothed thigh. Sharp prickles run along your spine as you move a little faster, chasing a final high that really can’t seem to come fast enough.

Moira seemed more than content to lie back and watch you drive yourself wild in her lap, her hands less guiding your motions now and more just coming along for the ride that she’s letting you set the pace of. You spur between quick, jagged motions and slow, deliberate ones that really send shocks throughout your body, all of which meld deliciously together and leave you love drunk atop her.

You know the wetness from your pussy is staining her pants, likely more than enough to seep through the fabric, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. With your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, you almost have the wherewithal to wonder if she can hear it. You find it’s harder to breathe now, lungs aching a little from the inconsistent amounts of air you’re taking in a series of random gulps, then sputtering out between desperate moans of pleasure.

“Moira,” you hiss, —and she squeezes your hips in silent response.

The heat in the pit of your stomach has begun to spark like a live wire, just begging to catch ablaze. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, muffling the ragged sobs that you can’t hold back any longer, eventually sinking your teeth into the junction of her slender shoulder when your climax hits you.

Moira listens to the uneven rhythm of your breathing as it steadily calms into something less strangled, trailing her fingers down your naked spine. When you’ve come down from the high, she unravels the chain, then removes it entirely, and stuffs it (as well as the vibrator) back into the drawer they came from. The collar comes off just as readily, and she takes a moment to check on the condition of your throat in the process. Best of all, you just know it’s going to be one of the better nights when she reaches off to the side of the bed, plucking her half-empty pack of cigarettes from the nightstand to place one of them between her lips.

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jeonride · 10 months

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svt reading list / fic recs!

don't forget to like + reblog fics that you like to support the authors <33

navigation

FICS ! ✧*。

svt hospital | svt x fem!reader (fluff, angst, you should really start to read this!) by @taeyegu

in pursuit of wedded bliss | svt regency au, romance, historical au by @fantasyescapes17

kinktober 2022 | (smut) by @duhnova

doting on you! | svt hhu x pets series (fluff, mild angst, smut) by @lovelyhan

apartment 5c | 96 line (fluff, slice of life, humor, smau) by @suhnshinehaos

the king's gambit | 95 line (smut, fluff, angst, slowburn) by @duhnova @onlyhuis @onlymingyus

angel's trumpets | joshua, wonwoo x undercover cop!reader (light angst, suspense/thriller, cheating, smut) by @sunnylovespickles you have to read this this is so amazing

demon's play | seungcheol, dino x fem!reader (smut, dark, fantasy) by @bitchlessdino

bad girls make good boys cry | joshua (smut, fluff) by @duhnova

little miss naughty | jeonghan (smut) by @hoshzone

doe eyes | dino (smut) by @duhnova

midnight appetite | mingyu, wonwoo x female!reader (smut, threesome) by @writeformesinpie

just peachy | seokmin, wonwoo x afab!reader (smut, threesome) by @xddaengx

sweater paws | jeonghan (smut, fluff, sub!jeonghan) by @duhnova

wine & dine | seungcheol (smut, fluff, husband!cheol) by @ally-127

eggs, bacon, and sausage sandwich | wonwoo, mingyu x female reader (smut, threesome) by @bitchlessdino

work husband | mingyu, wonwoo x female reader (fluff, cute omg, office au) by @rubyreduji

moira | seungcheol, chan x oc (mystery like that, contains smut) by @sunnylovespickles

biting his pecs | jun (nsfw) by @onlyhuis

made with love | joshua (fluff, dad!joshua) by @icyminghao

just deserts | minghao, wonwoo x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @seungkwansphd

don't listen in secret (ot13 series, fwb) by @j6shua

dressing room | hao, wonwoo + fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @cheolhub

good to us | mingyu, wonwoo x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

gamers do it better | wonwoo, seungcheol x fem!reader (smut, threesome) by @sluttywonwoo

new rules | performance unit x mafia au by @toruro

can i buy you a drink? | mingyu, wonwoo x female!reader (smut, threesome) by @97-liners

DRABBLES / HARD THOUGHTS ! ✧*。

wanting you to beg | hhu (smut) by @hoshzone

17.12 | joshua, smut by @lovelyhan

dad!hoshi by @number1mingyustan

sub!mingyu (smut) by @euphoricsunflowers

touch starved (hhu) by @wqnwoos

svt as the children of greek gods by @rubyreduji

smut vernon drabble by @rubyreduji

smut reactions (ot13) by @sluttywonwoo

condescension in bed (minghao, seungcheol, wonwoo, joshua) by @toruro

cum inside (ot13) by @hoshzone

degradation kink (ot13) by @nsfwhao

drunk svt with their s/o by @gyuslcve

humiliation kink (ot13) by @cheolhub

who would be into pussy slapping? from here until "accidentally swiping onto nude picts" are made by @sluttyminghao

them with vibrator cock ring (ot13)

accidentally swiping onto nude picts (ot13)

svt as type of affections by @yrhome

partner privilege (ot13) by @blue-jisungs

svt do your make up by @lovingseventeen

hip hop unit masterlist by @bibinnieposts

COMPLETE MASTERLIST! YOU NEED THIS by @bibinnieposts

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff #drabble #reading list #fic recs #jeonride : navigation

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silverzoomies · 2 months

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Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

#tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs

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darling-answers · 6 months

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If you don’t like the main fic there little just ideas at the bottom of this post. That are friendly

Just brain rot for my two favorite Overwatch women. THIS IS A LESBAIN FANFIC I REPEAT! GET OUT IF YOU ARE A MALE READER.

Trigger warning; Includes Mommy kink! Boob kink! Sorta lactation kink? Pet names, Reader is a Sub! Moira is a Dom, and I put mercy as a Dom to but she can be somewhat of a switch? Slapping of ass, not proof read. There so much other stuff I may of forgotten I apologize

Also I will be referring to Moira as “Mercy Friend.” Sometimes But Crybaby reader already agreed to be in a relationship with both two women’s just usually her small brain forgot that Moira is not only mercy friend but your her girlfriend to, SO THIS IS A YES TO SEX , Non-con is weird and gross and just Disgusting don’t anyone ever dare bring that to my request you will instantly get a ban.

This will be a series if you want more only if you guys want more. This just a huge brainrot 😭😭🏃‍♀️

I REPEAT! NO MINORS! I REPEAT! NO MINORS!

All I can think about is Being such a little crybaby and at the end of the day running into Mercy arms Sobbing to her about how Mean Mercy little friend is, how all Moira was doing today in the lab was calling you a little dumb Bunny who always just cries and cries to Mercy which obviously mercy comforts you and feels you curl up next to her grabbing at her top, and just begging her to tell her lab friend that saying mean things aren’t nice.

Mercy having to tuck you in and let you suckle on her boob just to get you to calm down, petting your head as she lulls you to sleep with that sweet lullaby of hers and just letting you have her boob to suck onto. Once your asleep she will still allow you to be latched onto her until she feels like your in deep enough sleep where she can gently put your head on the pillow.

Right when she gently closes the door to your room, she storms into the lab seeing the very women who brought tears to her girlfriends face, the Menacing Red headed who smirks seeing the very clearly upset look on Angela Face as she lets out a little laugh “ did dear little bunny come running to you again? I’m surprised you didn’t come in here earlier, Mh?” The deep Raspy voice heard throughout the quite cold lab from the Much older women of the two girls.

Angela having a argument between Her and Moira criticizing her for scaring you back into Angela Arms, knowing how sensitive you are, Angela puts it through Moira skull that being mean and insulting you will not get you to come run towards her arms. Moira letting out a Hmmm giving Angela a side eye as she keeps working on her newest test subject acting like she not listening but is in fact more than listening to the angry women.

Waking up whimpering seeing the one women your scared of sitting on the side of your bed, running her sharp nails and slimmer hands throw out your Hair, bending down to give you a kiss on the lips as she nibbles on your lower bottom lip. Her eyes piece yours as she gently tugs at your hair.

Her gently rubbing at your Thighs as she gently parts your legs to dive down into your Pussy, making slow circle motions on your clit, being very mindful of her nails as she bends down to give a little kiss to your stomach that leaves a trail down to your pussy.

Her starting to feast on your cunt holding your legs above her shoulder not stopping even after you cum and beg her to atleast give you a break, poor crybaby you are just having to deal with her both teasing you with stopping right before your orgasm and pushing you to your limits over and over until finally Angela walks in to let out a sigh, hearing you from even down the hallway she walks over to you.

Begging Angela to tell her “friend.” That your so sensitive and just to atleast take a minute break only for a mercy to shush you with putting a gently manicure finger through your lips shushing you until she can get her pants and button shirt off only to take her fingers out of your mouth and lay back against the headboard. Slowly ushering your head towards her boob where you will sit there suckling on as she pets your hair shushing you when you whimper around her boob.

Moira finally letting you as she sit there with a sloppy pussy that has salvia dripping down it as Moira goes to take her clothes off, revealing a purple large strap, coming to put three fingers in your pussy to scissor you until she feels like your finally relax. Grabbing at your hips she goes to turn you around so you are on your stomach, hips and ass up as she pushes your head down to still have you suckle on Mercy breast.

“ be a little good bunny and stay quite will you? We don’t need that whimpering mouth of yours letting anyone else hear us.” Moira would snark out as mercy shushes your little wiggles and whimpers whispering sweet nothing such as “ it okay she doesn’t mean it, mommy just being very frustrated today, it alright for you to be upset, it is not your fault.” She would gently kiss your cheek trying to keep you in her warm embrace as she gives Moira a glance.

Feeling Moira Purple thick Strap going in and out of you forcing you to keep taking such a big thing, your only use to mercy long slinger fingers something like this you haven’t even experienced before. Your already so sensitive and have had mutiple orgasm that feeling Moira purple strap touching that one spot that makes you feel like your really in heaven has you feeling like paradise. Your whimpering sobbing, crying out for help muffled by Angela breast trying to find a moment to just breathe and poor you, even when Moira just tells you

“ One more and I’ll let you have a break baby, don’t worry Mommy isn’t that mean.”

That turns out to be a big fat lie when she gives you Two more and still won’t quit. She just slaps your ass when you beg her to have mercy on you and mumbles out “ Are you going to shut that mouth of yours before I make you really make me seem to be the mean one.” It worked by getting you to shut up. But.. how many more orgasms will you think Moira will give you before you pass out, it not helping by the way Angela is rubbing at your puffy, red clit that just can’t handle anymore overstimulation.

Maybe next time it would be wise not to go to your other mommy about How your mommy friend is being so mean or she will show you mean. :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other ideas I’m thinking about with Moicy-

Moicy x Bimbo Reader- Just imagine bimbo reader with the tight lab coat and mini skirt and the shortest button up shirt that barely hides your breast, just walking in there expecting them to not want to bend you over the sanitize counter and blow your brains out.

Moicy x Milf reader- Imagine you being one of the most powerful and successful Overwatch agents and working in the health department, bandaging up soldiers and working alongside very happily Mercy and A Depressed Moira who can’t stand patients and rather tell them to get over themselves until you walk into the room with the tits filled with milk and your body being a little fuller then usual having just given birth to your little mini me a little bit ago. Your ex boyfriend got you pregnant only to leave you, some days mercy and Moira would have to help take care of you cause some days it felt like to much. When you walk in with your little bundle of joy strapped to your chest with that little chubby face that looks exactly like yours and how you still have your pregnancy glows, no wonder when you have to feed your baby and breast feed them they can’t help but take gentle looks admiring how beautiful you and that baby is, maybe they will someday make you there’s.

Moicy x actress reader - There a live action overwatch movie coming out and you so happen to have to play both Mercy and Moira because you fit both of the roles so well that they can’t help but just put you with both of the roles, having to change some of your personality and your body just to fit with the real life hero’s, you put so much work and effort to make Moira and mercy look and perform perfectly that you get a suprised at the premier when they show up in a beautiful outfit just to come see the movies and when they finally find the cute actress who played there character so well, expect so much praises and other good luck coming your way, because of mercy and Moira connections with helping others they get you to be the stars of the biggest roles because of how well you did, even if you beg them not to they will try to buy you the most expensive gift’s and still stay in contact with you even if your busy or they are busy.

Moicy x reader who on there monthly cycle / them just laying down beside you and rubbing at your belly and hips, placing a heating pay and water beside your bed sides coming to cuddle at your side and whisper, pet names in German and Scottish. They just so in love with you and they will not want to see you in pain, they will do anything just to keep a huge smile on your face.

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#crybaby!reader #DarlingCrybaby #overwatch #overwatch x reader #darlingfics #overwatch headcanons #Moicy #overwatch moicy #moira x mercy #moira x reader #mercy x reader #overwatch smut #Overwatch headcannon

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sadgirlbaby · 1 year

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THE RUBBER MAN SUIT - tate langdon x fem!reader (smut)

(author’s recommendation: play this song while reading this)

CW: explicit sexual speaking, dirty talk, cussing (a bit), unprotected sex, p in v penetration, cumming

SUMMARY: (tate is a ghost whom was haunting your house. he was the only one beyond moira that wanted to show himself to you since you first arrived there. you and tate became friends since that time and often spent time together). you couldn't find tate anywhere so you checked in the basement but you surprisingly found him wearing a weird but sexy black rubber suit.

you were peacefully doing your homework but you knew that tate did not want you to go to school as he wanted you to stay with him. you were extremly trying to focus on studying but then you remembered you hadn't seen tate for a while.

"tate?" you asked while looking around.

you didn't receive anything as respose so you stood up off your chair and went looking for him.

after a couple of minutes of wandering around your house you suddenly thought about the basement.

you went down the stairs and got into that lightless place of your apartment.

"tate? are you here?" you said standing in front of the staircase as you didn't want to dive into darkness.

"tate? I don't like this... please show up" you said as you were shaking in fear. you liked darkness but that was way too dark to walk in or even see.

you suddenly heard a plastic noise coming from the darkness and a small light suddenly turned on. your heart skipped a beat as you saw someone very creepy standing in front of you. they immediately unzipped the mask and showed their face, you sighed at the sight of your friend.

his slim figure was emphasized by the tight material that he was wearing - it was a black rubber suit that suited him perfectly.

"omg you scared me, tate... don't do that ever again" you said while catching your breath.

"did I scare you? god, I thought you weren't afraid of anything" he said back.

"I am not. I just got worried since I couldn't find you anywhere".

"where did you think that I could have be gone? I can't get out of this house" he reminded you.

"you're right, but... what the hell are you wearing?" you said.

"just a black suit I found here. how do I look?" he turned on himself making you stare at his suit.

"good... really good..." you were lost in thought as you did really think he looked good in that suit. you could not express yourself since he was way too fine.

it was weird for you thinking that your friend tate was hot. his fluffly and messy blond hair, his reddish lips, his deep and dark eyes, his hips and his sluttly little waist freaked you out.

"what are you looking at?" he smirked noticing your inattention. you instanlty blushed thinking about him finding out about your fantasies.

"nothing" you replied.

"hmm..." he groaned and got closer to you. you didn't lift your stare as you didn't want to see him gazing at you in that way.

"nothing?" he repeated.

you finally raised your head and laid your eyes on him. your lips felt like they were pulsing in eager of kissing his.

tate gazed at yours too and he looked like he was mesmerized by them. he suddenly got closer and slowly pushed your waist against his. he kissed you. you closed your eyes and he did too. your lips were connected and your tongues were already happily dancing together.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and softly pushed his head towards you to kiss him easily.

"was this "the nothing" you were thinking about?" he slowly left your lips and looked at you seductively.

you lowered your stare and he smirked.

"kiss me again" you said.

he didn't even hesitated and immediately pressed his lips on yours again. you could feel his desire of wanting more just by touching his lips. he started to breathe heavily and his grip on your hips got stronger.

"I want you." he affirmed.

"hm?" you mumbled while kissing.

"I need you." he said and instantly grabbed your shirt and pulled it off exposing your breasts still covered by your bra.

"what are you doin-?" you tried to speak but he immediately kissed you again to keep you quiet.

then he looked at you with heart shaped eyes and pulled your jeans off too. your panties came off with your jeans.

"this tight suit is gonna be hard to take off…" he said and unzipped it. he tried to be as quickly as he could and once he took it off, you noticed that he wasn't wearing any type of underwear under that black rubber suit.

he couldn't wait any longer so he picked you up and smashed you against the first wall he saw.

"hmm" he groaned as he entered his cock into you. you jolted and automatically clinged to him.

"oh- oh my god..." you panted.

"you're so fucking tight..." he groaned and kept thrusting harder and harder.

his cock was a little bit bigger than you expected so it was hurting but it was like a satisfying pain, an excitating pain.

your walls wrapped around his erection and he sped up his thrusts.

this action made both of you gasp. his labored breath against your neck could make you cum instantly.

"fuck..." he said. his thrusts were wild and intense.

he softly kissed your neck giving you goosebumps and you just kept moaning. you were staring at the ceiling with your half open mouth and your legs shaking.

he was a total mess as well and he couldn't hold it anymore.

you digged your nails into his back giving him scratches and marks everywhere and he was actually enjoying that. this was a motivation for him to thrust faster and harsher.

"you feel so good..." he moaned.

tate was sweating and also whining a bit. he was praising you and your unique body.

his skin got hotter and he knew that he was about to cum. the sight of you crying out his name made him even hornier. he sped up his thrusts one more time he couldn't get enough of it.

he kissed your neck leaving wet kisses all down your soft skin. this filled you with stomach butterflies and had you moaning louder.

"tate- I-I'm c-cum-ming..." you whined.

"cum for me baby" he said.

you let yourself release and made tate cum instantly. he refilled your walls with his seed and orgasmed loudly.

he slowly slowed down and then he kissed your lips. you french kissed, then tate put you down and you both got dressed again.

"wait" he said as he grabbed your wrist.

"you're beautifully beautiful" he smiled and stared at your eyes.

you let out a soft laugh and kissed his cheek as you dragged him out of the basement.

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