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#please. please please please look at them
fairuzfan · 3 days
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Urgent Appeal for HelpGazaChildren: Help refugees flee to Khan Younis!
Because of the looming invasion and brutal bombing throughout the most densely populated area in Gaza, Rafah, many refugees are looking to evacuate to Khan Younis!
The bombing is random and even the areas not included in the evacuation notices are bombarded. Many refugees are asking Hussam for funds to help them evacuate to Khan Younis to help keep their families safe.
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The above is a screenshot of a facebook post from someone in Rafah. A tent can be as much as $700 and the transportation costs anywhere between $250-$400 per family. This cost is primarily for gas alone!!
Please donate so that people may be able to evacuate while also being able to afford basic necessities.
Even if you're unable to donate, please share this post and the fundraiser even outside of tumblr and on other platforms! This is incredibly urgent!!
Donate to our GoFundMe which goes directly to Hussam, who manages camps in Rafah, with NO middleman in between!
HelpGazaChildren Notion Site || #helpgazachildren tag
GoFundMe Link
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lovers of hardbacks, unite (or, more likely, divide)!
dear reader! hello! do you enjoy hardback books? do you love having opinions and pressing buttons on tumblr dot com?? then oh, boy, do i have just the poll for you!!
say you're reading a hardback book that comes with a dust jacket--a book you own, perhaps, or have borrowed from a loved one or lifelong rival or sworn enemy, or anywhere else besides the library (for the purposes of this poll, we must both Have and Be Able To Remove The Dust Jacket, i'm sorry, it's very important for Science™).
please answer for your IDEAL/MOST COMMON COURSE OF ACTION--weird exceptions need not apply (unless you want them to, or you want to holler about said exceptions in the tags/replies/reblogs. i don't know your lifestyle, but i DO want to know your polarizing opinions on the care and keeping of dust jackets) (you can also holler about why you chose what you did in general, even without weird exceptions. in fact, i look forward to reading this Discourse).
***this is SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HARDBACKS, please don't skew my science with paperback propaganda :( i myself tend toward a paperback way of being, but right now Inquiring Minds Need To Know About Dust Jackets and Dust Jackets Alone***
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shoyudon · 2 days
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𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 .ᐟ
when their baby doesn't recognize them after they come home from a long mission.
starring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x fem! reader
heads up. pure fluff, your child with toji is baby gumi :D
note. this is how everything should have been :< anyways, just an information, my blog now runs on queue so, i'm grind writing before i get too busy for everything since my finals are coming up! chap 259 leaks got me on my knees and telling my friends i needed a whole ass break, gege when i catch u gege.
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──────〃★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
"i'm home!" gojo's cheery voice rings out throughout his warm home, despite his fatigue catching up with him. he drops a few crown colored paper bags on top of the kitchen counter — his nostrils twitching at the smell of your home cooked meal that he's grown to miss a lot during his mission.
trotting down the hall, he could vividly hear the distinct voices of both you and his daughter's loud laughter, with a big smile he grips onto the door handle of his daughter's nursery and pulls it down eagerly, "daddy's home!"
you looked at the door in surprise, not hearing his call just a few minutes ago, "satoru? you're home!" you marvel out, happily. nose scrunching in just slightly — your daughter sat on the play mat, eyebrows furrowed and she shows no signs of happiness or excitement like you did.
gojo went in and engulfed you into a tight hug, "hi sweetie," he whispers, kissing your temple — his slender fingers squeezing your hips, "i missed you both so much, y'know?"
returning the hug, you inhaled his scent, "we missed you too, 'toru, i was wondering when you'd be home," gojo cupped your face, pecking your lips multiple times.
"'m home now, baby," his vague whispers enters your ear.
gojo's head turns to see his daughter, who has strands of white hair just like his along with her deep blue eyes, staring back at him in worry — and a tinge of suspicion glazing over them. she babbles in concern, pointing at you as a signal to come for her.
instead of you, gojo stepped towards her little figure, resulting in an erupt of loud wail. he flinched at the loud cry and got on his knees, slipping his big hands under his daughter's pits to pull her closer, "hey, hey . . . why're you crying, baby?"
her wails got worse along with a few kicks here and there, gojo turns to look at you in concern, wondering what was wrong with her, his deep blue eyes silently begging for help, "hey, shh. 'ts okay, daddy's here," he cooed in panic.
chuckling softly, you gently grabbed her away from him, "i think she might have forgotten you, 'toru. you've been gone for too long, y'know?" instantly, your daughter calms down, feeling your familiar grip on her, teary doe eyes suspiciously eyeing gojo up and down.
gojo's face fell, "babies have short term memory? i was gone for two weeks," he softly whispers.
you caressed his face, "'ts okay, love. it takes time, she'll eventually remember her daddy, won't you, princess?" your daughter swiveled her face away into your neck, peeking at gojo curiously every now and then.
"can i hold her, please?" he questions, almost desperately. he was gone for more than two weeks — and all he wanted was to coddle his wife and daughter, and yet, here he was; a stranger to his own five month old daughter.
you nodded, "mhm, take it slow, she'll remember you . . ."
gojo gently grabs her from your grip, cooing softly at her as she squirms a bit, crunching her short and chubby legs up. she wasn't crying, yet. but her blue eyes were staring into gojo deeply, as if she was assessing everything, "bwa!"
she began kicking her legs happily. the corner of gojo's lips tugged upwards slowly, "do you remember me now? hm? you remember daddy now?" he cooed, shaking his head gently before nuzzling his nose into her belly.
the interaction made you smile warmly. gojo who was once exhausted with fatigue chasing his tail, now all freshened up with a fatherly smile on his face, "made me all sad for a second, you silly bean," he chuckles, cradling her in his arms.
as he cooed, you could see your daughter giggling loudly, her body reacting to his words as if she understood them. all she saw was his smile and she's a laughing matter. brushing your fingers through gojo's hair, you whisper, "go shower, you're stinky, 'toru."
"mama's being mean, isn't she? daddy don't stink, right?" gojo jokes, "isn't it supposed to be her bed time now?"
you nodded, "i wanted her to see you, at least for a bit," gojo smiled at your thoughtfulness and pressed your daughter to his hip, using his free hand to pull you closer — he wrapped an arm around you, moving side-to-side slowly and without realizing; the slight movement made the baby drowsy, her eyelids drooping down slowly.
and before the both of you know, her soft snores resounded, cheek leaned onto gojo's shoulder as her arms went limp by her side. you chuckled, kissing her other cheek, "i leave you to lay her down in the crib then."
──────〃★ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
"baby, why is he staring at me like that?" geto questions softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks back into his six month old son's (eye color) eyes in exhaustion.
just fifteen minutes ago, he had gotten back home after almost a three week mission — dropping his bags onto the couch, he greets you with a tight hug and a kiss on the lips, like he usually does every other day. on the other hand, greeting his not-so newborn son was a different experience, geto had his palm on the baby's head who was sitting on the his feeding chair. squatting down, all he got was an odd stare.
"you've been gone for almost a month, sugu'. he probably has a foggy memory of you," you explain, brushing your index finger over the baby's chubby cheek as his stare never bailed on getos' sitting figure across the table.
geto sighs, nodding his head, "if i get close, he won't cry, right?" he wouldn't say it out loud — but he often feared that this would happen at some point, his own son forgetting about him after a mission. given his job as a sorcerer, he'd have to go out on missions often, and some of them . . . don't exactly finish in a short amount of time. like this one.
"'m not sure, baby. why don't you come here and stop acting like you're our enemy?" you smiled at him, wiping the corner of your baby's stained lips, "'m pretty sure he's trying to remember your face! isn't that right, love? you won't forget your papa, will you?"
geto ascended from the chair, slowly stepping closer to both you and your son. he squats down in front of your son momentarily, "hi buddy," he gave out a small tired smile.
your son scrunched his face up slightly, eyes narrowing. you almost chuckled at the sight of geto's puckered lips, "you don't remember papa? 'm sad, y'know?" his voice softly cooed out, his finger reaching out to trace his baby's small button like nose.
as if your son realized that this was his father upon the soft touch on his nose, his face was no longer scrunched up, eyes returning back to normal — the difference? his toothless grin pops up, raspy laughter escaping his throat. geto smiles back in response, "yes, you do remember me, my baby boy."
geto stands up, carrying your son up from his feeding chair; not even caring about the mess on his son's tiny little bib. at this point, geto just wanted to hold his own flesh and blood, "papa missed you so much, y'know?" he whispers, pressing gentle kisses onto the baby's head.
your lips formed a smile in reflex, "see? he was just trying to remember you," geto chuckles out softly, nodding his head.
the then house that was filled with loud babbles and gargles of a baby refusing to eat, is now filled with euphoric laughter — it just felt magical. and watching your husband cradle your baby just felt like home, all you could do was stare at them both with much affection.
"bwaa! bababa!"
"mhm, that's right—" geto acknowledged calmly, rocking your son back and forth gently, "you're eating well, aren't you? look at the mess you made for mama. don't give her a tough time when papa's not home, 'lright?"
your son kicked his little legs downwards in response, his giggles loud and clear. geto took that as a yes to his question and nodded proudly, placing another gentle kiss to the baby's forehead.
──────〃★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎
toji's job is a little questionable. all his life, he's never thought of settling in with a woman, marrying her, and having a son of his own — it all happened so fast. but toji has never really thought of it as a bad thing in the first place. he has a wife waiting for him everyday at home with his son to welcome him, it all felt unreal.
"hey," he mumbles out, leaning down to let you press a kiss on his cheek like you always do — once you did, toji returns the kiss on your lips, "missed you."
you leaned your forehead into his, "i missed you too, toji."
"ma!" a high-pitched voice attracted both of your attention, craning your neck to the side, you saw your one year old son peeking from behind the wall, timidly eyeing the stranger beside you — speaking of toji, by the way.
"gumi, come here," you beckoned him to come over, but the toddler stays in his spot, his little fingers grasping onto the corner of the wall as his eyes pierced onto toji's large figure. sensing his discomfort, you pulled yourself away from toji to approach megumi.
"what's wrong, baby?" you squat down to his eye level, gently grabbing him by his waist, "is something bothering you?" your questions went unanswered — but you figured it had to do something with toji as megumi's eyes never left him.
"baby, that's daddy. your daddy," you can't help but to chuckle softly, carrying the toddler into your arms; pressed to your hip. megumi didn't falter back or trashed, already accustomed to your touch. although you felt his little body tremble when you walked back over to toji, "don't you miss daddy? he's back!"
"dada?" megumi exclaims in a confused tone, patting your cheeks with his chubby little fingers, his toddler mind in a swirl of turmoil. still unconvinced at the fact that this big and tall stranger is his father, despite the same identical hair.
"mhm, that's dada," you point at toji, who has been awkwardly standing a in the same spot now — toji sighs and strides over to you, making megumi narrow his eyes in reflex, "dada, dada's home."
toji extended his finger and poked megumi's cheek teasingly with a straight face, "y' don't even remember your old man, huh?"
megumi scowls deeply, his nose scrunching; resulting in toji's satisfied smirk — the older man prompted to do the same thing again, poking megumi's cheek once more, like he always does to mess with him, "i made you, you little punk," toji rolls his eyes.
"dada!" megumi yells out in frustration, as if he now remembered that his father — toji, the same person who would always mess with him is now right back beyond his eyes, "dada dada!"
toji closened his index finger to megumi's face, and megumi instinctively wrapped his little fingers around toji's index finger, as if saying 'no!'
toji's face warmed up at the sight, and so he curled his finger to bring megumi's hand into his large one, "y'r old man missed you, y'know?" he mutters out gruffly, brushing megumi's cheek gently; so gently he's managed to surprise himself a couple of times.
"aww, he remembers you now, toji."
toji scoffs lightly, a small smile gracing his lips, "guess he does remember."
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© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !
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mycameron · 3 days
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‎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀࣪𓏲ּ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃
being your boyfriend is rafe's favourite thing.
he does everything for you. whether it was buying you lunch or driving 5 hours just to get you the purse that you really wanted.. he will do it, no matter what.
he likes having you rely on him, depend on him for everything. in fact, he loves it. maybe a little too much. he likes being needed, especially when it came to you. you don't even have to lift a finger, not like rafe would let you anyway. he buys you expensive gifts, takes you on cute dates, gets you flowers, drives you everywhere, he treats you like a queen.
you sat in front of your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. rafe sat on the edge of your bed behind you. you were going to a party later tonight to celebrate one of your friend's birthday. running your fingers through your freshly curled hair, you sighed.
"rafe, do you think my hair looks good?", you had spent an hour doing it but it didn't turn out the way you wanted, as per usual.
he looked up from his phone, "of course baby, you could wear a trash bag and you'd still look beautiful."
he always knew what to say, didn't he?
staring at yourself in the mirror you stop worrying about your hair and focus on your outfit. it was supposed to be "casual" but in reality, everyone would be wearing clothes on the fancier side. you make your way to your closet and skim through the collection of dresses, all of which rafe bought you. you pick two out, the first one was a silky dark red dress and the second was a simpler black dress with an open back.
lifting them both up you ask, "which one would fit better for tonight?"
taking a moment to scan the dresses rafe lifts his finger and points to one, "the red dress. 'makes you look hot", he grins.
you walk over to place a kiss on his cheek and he puts his hands around your waist, pulling you in while planting kisses on your neck and making his way down your torso.
"rafe, we have to go soon and i still need to get dressed!" you try to pull away but he tightens his grip.
"tell them we're going to be late then", he says now gliding his hand up your thigh.
you pull out your phone and text your friend.
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི my first fic/blurb (idk?) & def not proofread.. please give me feedback if any!!
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hotvintagepoll · 2 days
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Propaganda
Hedy Lamarr (Samson and Delilah, Ziegfeld Girl)—Look. I'm sure someone has already submitted Hedy Lamarr because she was spectacularly beautiful, and a very strong lady too: she fled both an abusive marriage AND nazi persecution at a very young age and rebuilt a life for herself pursuing her love for acting all on her own!! Her career as an actress was stellar; while she began acting outside of Hollywood (her very first movie, Ecstasy, won a prize at the Venice Film Festival), she conquered American hearts very quickly with her first movie in the US, Algiers, and then just kept getting better and better. If all this isn't enough, she was also an inventor: her invention of the frequency-hopping spread spectrum radio transmission technique forms the base of bluetooth and has a lot of applications in all kinds of communication technologies. I think that deserves a prize, don't you?
Marilyn Monroe (How to Marry a Millionaire, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Some Like It Hot)— Ngl I thought you all were lying about sexual attraction until I saw Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Hedy Lamarr:
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The only person you can find both on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in the Inventor's Hall of Fame--her radio-frequency-hopping technology forms the basis for cordless phones, wi-fi, and a dozen other aspects of modern life. She was also passionate in her efforts to aid the Allies in WWII (unsurprising for a Jewish-Austrian Emigree to America), and her name served as the backbone for one of the best running jokes in what is possibly Mel Brooks' best movie. Look, Louis B. Mayer apparently believed he could plausibly promote her as "The world's most beautiful woman". Is an entire website full of people going to be less audacious than one Louis B. Mayer? I didn't think so!
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Described as "Hedy has the most incredible personal sophistication. She knows the peculiarly European art of being womanly; she knows what men want in a beautiful woman, what attracts them, and she forces herself to be these things. She has magnetism with warmth, something that neither Dietrich nor Garbo has managed to achieve" by Howard Sharpe, she managed to escape her controlling husband (and Nazi Germany) by a) Disguising as her maid and fleeing to Paris or b) Convincing the husband to let her wear all of her jewelry to a dinner, only to disappear afterwards. Also she was particularly clever and helped develop Frequency-Hopping Spread Spectrum (I can't really explain it but anyway...)
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Her depiction of Delilah and Samson and Delilah just lives rent free in my head. The woman was gorgeous.
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One of the most beautiful women ever in film, spoken by many critics and fans. Beautiful shapely figure, deeper seductive voice, and often played femme fatale roles. She was also brilliant and an inventor. Mainly self-taught, she invested her spare time, including on set between takes, in designing and drafting inventions, which included an improved traffic stoplight and a tablet that would dissolve in water to create a flavored carbonated drink, and much more.
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Gorgeous and brilliant pioneer of modern technology and the middle part.
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Marilyn Monroe:
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She's amazing!!! A classic bombshell, as well as a strong women who overcame so many obstacles. She also advocated for others, like Ella Fitzgerald.
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That fucking saxophone that cuts in whenever she appears on screen in Some Like it Hot
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I mean, it's Marilyn Monroe. She's adorable. She's gorgeous. She funny. She's the total package
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She's the original American sex symbol, an iconic beautiful woman with eyes you could get lost in, legs for days, gorgeous hair, and a cute tummy. Her voice! Just listen to her voice!!!!!
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She is considered one of THE sex symbols of the 1960s and one of the greatest actresses of all time! She HAS to be on this list!
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no vintage movie woman is more iconically hot
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People are most familiar with pictures of her in the white dress or the Happy Birthday Mr President one, but imo she is at her most beautiful and looks most comfortable when she is photographed by women like Eve Arnold
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It’s Marilyn Monroe. If Aphrodite was an actual person, she’d be Marilyn. Do I really need to say more?
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What can I say that hasn't been said? Marilyn's legacy is so much bigger than she was in life. She's a defining symbol of 50s and 60s Hollywood sex and it's obvious why. She was absolutely stunning and the camera loved her.
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starleska · 2 days
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ohhh my goodness look at Maestro's musical staff + notes neck tattoo…!!!! i love it 🥴💖🎶
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dante-mightdie · 1 day
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This made me sick to think about so maybe you would like it. Sorry this is so long 😭 but my brain worms were at it.
Three months later, Pup reader eventually going into a catatonic state. You stop eating so the handlers eventually put you on an IV and a feeding tube, but when you stop moving, they worry your muscles may start to atrophy. You have already developed sores but still don’t move.
One of the handlers goes rogue and calls John. His number was still on your paperwork when he surrendered you. The handler asks John to reconsider without mentioning what’s happening. He stands firm and says no, just assuming that someone must have returned you back to the shelter. He knows you’ll find a home eventually, but he had enough to deal with at home.
Meanwhile, Simon, Johnny and Kyle are pissed. The new pup John had got was a handful to say the least. Three months of correcting the pup’s behavior over and over again. She was too rambunctious. Not docile like you and didn’t respect boundaries. Where your playful nips at Johnny’s arm would barely register, hers were sharp and painful. She constantly got in whatever bed she pleased and took whatever resources she wanted.
Kyle just relented he became so annoyed, only showing his teeth in warning. Johnny would straight up shoulder check the pup.
Things eventually come to a head when Simon straight up attacks her. He was having as PTSD episode and pup thought it would be a good time to jump on him while he was asleep.
The attack luckily didn’t injure her too badly, but after that she wasn’t submissive, she was aggressive. To everyone. The other pups and even John. Snapping and baring her teeth. It wasn’t until her teeth made contact with John did he realize something needed to be done.
So he called Laswell. She knew the pup needed a female presence and her and her wife were happy to help.
A month passes since the phone call from the shelter. The boys were even more tense than before the other pup left. None of them wanting to be around each other more than necessary. John knew what he had to do.
So he called the shelter, asking had you been adopted yet. An awkward pause before the volunteer on the other line says they need to get their supervisor.
Supervisor informs John that you stopped eating and moving. Because the volunteers could only do so much, they had to put you into a facility that could better help with the long term care you would need.
John is able to pull some strings and get in contact with the facility.
Option 1:
When John goes to the facility, you don’t snap out of it. You don’t believe he’s really came for you. Not when he puts the collar back on your neck or has practically carry you to the car. Not even when the boys surround you, sniffing and pawing.
John has to hand feed you. Even then the boys take over with that, now hating John for what he did to you.
You eventually “come back”, but the fear is always there. You don’t go outside without the boys and you’re always afraid to be alone with John. Forget car rides. The last time you were due for a check up, even having everyone in it did nothing to help your panic attack. Pleading not to go back to the shelter. That you’ll be good. John can hear your soft cries at night before one of the boys eventually crawls in your bed, promising to not let you go again.
Option 2 (I’ll make this short I promise)
The facility didn’t intervene when it came to you wanting to die. That was your choice and the resources couldn’t be wasted. So when John receives a very sincere apology from the facility coordinator that you had chosen to be on the euthanasia list, he is in consolable.
However, a vet tech sees how adorable you are and just can’t let that happen, so they call their cousin.
Zeus was looking for a new pup for oversized hounds to play with.
König all too happy to have a new playmate. He and Nikto often fought over who you would be sharing a bed with before finally just laying down with your in yours. In the middle of the night, Horangi would pull you out of the pile and take you to his own bed.
You eventually started to come back to life. The boys weren’t the same as your other ones, but it was still nice.
John tells the boys you had already been adopted, too afraid of what the truth would do to their dynamic. He has to forever live with the guilt of thinking you had died.
let’s go with option one
c/w: mentions of abandonment trauma, hybrids
there was a period of time where john lost hope that you would get better even after he bought you home. it certainly wasn’t going to stop him and the boys trying, however. john knew how much he’d fucked up when he heard the boys sad whines and yowls when he walked through the door with you
johnny instantly got to work making a nest in the space under the stairs. a cozy dim light hanging above a big pile of duvets and blankets, soft pillows that smell like them. john would give you space as the boys trap you in their arms, scenting over you and nuzzling into your skin until you smell like them again :(
they hold you when you cry, placing kisses to your shoulders and cheeks and the top of your head whisky you let all your sadness out. sometimes, you push them away. wailing that you don’t want them near you right now but eventually you let them back in to cuddle you. you feel weak but you’ve been so lonely and you’ve missed them terribly despite what they did
thinking about how the grief you had been dealing with had thrown your body right off track. not having a natural heat cycle until a good few months after returning home. you didn’t allow any of them in the room with you during that cycle, despite how kyle and johnny whined at the door, begging you to let them come in and take care of you
their whining didn’t last long when simon comes over and snaps at them, telling them to leave you alone whilst the sulk off with flattened ears
it had taken a while for you to warm up to john again. he understood completely. he had completely shattered your heart and trust in them. he wouldn’t put your collar back on until you were completely okay with it. he wanted you to ask. wants it to be something that you want
he begins to think you’ll never forgive him until one night you shuffled into his room nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of you, “can I sleep in here?”
he’d hoped you would at least sleep in his bed with him. let him snuggle you under his big plush duvet and scratch your scalp until you fall asleep but he understands. it’s baby steps. at least now you’ll actually be in the same room as him one on one
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teddybeartoji · 1 day
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18+ mdni; gn!reader
btw toji loves fucking you in prone bone. and he likes to just put all of his weight on you, trapping you underneath him and he likes to just grind into you. he's so fucking big and it's just so much and you feel like you're going to pass out from the sensation. he doesn't even pull out, he just slowly rolls his hips into yours while sloppily kissing away the tears that fall from your pretty eyes.
you can't even properly moan anymore, the only sounds that slip from your lips are broken mewls and shaky breaths. his one arm is curled around your neck, supporting your heavy head with his forearm and bicep. toji feels your drool on his skin and grins to himself.
his hot breath warms your already scorching flesh and you can't keep eyes open either – the feeling of toji in your guts being too much to handle. hazy and delirious, he loves seeing you like this; he loves watching you crumble underneath him. he loves to fuck your pretty little brains out and he will keep doing so as long as he gets to see you like this.
he hisses when you clench around him, his own breath hitching. his free hand finds yours holding onto the crumpled bedsheet below you and he interwines his bigger, rougher fingers with yours.
"does it feel good, hm?" he rasps right in your ear. your body trembles at his voice, at the proximity and he feels like he's in heaven. "tell me."
but instead of an answer, you let out a defeated little whimper from the depths of your stomach. he's so heavy on top of you and you just can't bring yourself to open your mouth again. you just can't do it; you don't have the strength nor the brainpower.
he squeezes your hands before pushing himself deep inside, his tip kissing your most sensitive part. a broken cry tumbles from you accompanied by another few tears—
—but then he just stays there.
he doesn't pull away, he doesn't move at all. he's crushing you under him, he's forging your bodies together. his heart rests above yours, his warm skin sticks to yours just like it's meant to.
"toji- "
he hums and presses his lips to your sweaty temple. he can feel your body trembling, the overstimulation taking hold of you before his very eyes.
"move." your voice is almost as raspy as his is. he's proud of that too – you're giving your all to him and he welcomes you with open arms. this is his way to show you how much he really cares for you, his way of showing his love. "please."
toji chuckles darkly; even the slightest movement makes the knot in your stomach tighten in this position and you feel like you're going to cum... just from this – you're going to finish with him lodged deep inside you, exactly where he belongs.
"i asked you a question, sweetheart."
you try to wriggle yourself under him, desperate to make him move but he's way too heavy. he moves your both hands closer and tucks them right beside your head – he's making you feel smaller and smaller. it feels like you're suffocating. in the best fucking way possible.
the hand that's been resting below your jaw goes to turn your head to the side, so toji can finally kiss you. open-mouthed and sloppy, he pushes his tongue inside and groans at the taste of you. his angel. you can barely keep up with him but he doesn't mind.
he's still not moving his hips though. if anything, he spreads his big thighs a bit wider so he can burrow himself even deeper. your mouth falls slack against his and you can't fucking breathe.
"tell m', how ya feel."
cracking open your eyes, you peer at him from the corner of your eyes and he coos at you. he doesn't let go of your face, keeping you right there so he can look at your perfectly fucked out face.
"so- so good." you hiccup. lips covered in your own drool, you look like a mess. you look like you deserve a reward. "please...."
toji gives you another rumble of a hum and a soft little smile. a lovesick one. he brings your hand to his lips and he presses a kiss on the inside of your wrist while keeping his eyes on you. his lips tug upward when he feels you pulsate around him again but he doesn't tease you for it this time.
it doesn't take much for him to have you twitching and spasming below him. he drinks up every single gasp and mewl, every single whimper and moan as he keeps rocking his hips into you. he helps you ride out your earth-shattering orgasm with rougher and rougher thrusts, his own desire to fill you up and mark you as his taking hold of him.
you cry into the pillow as he growls praise at you. the air in the room is thick and the messy, slick sounds of your bodies grinding together fills the space with ease. you can hear yourself, you can hear him and it's like a perfect melody. everything is so fucking messy, it's so fucking dirty and you wouldn't want it any other way.
he gives your hand another strong squeeze as he cums. his hips stutter flush against you, skin to skin, and he lets out the most beautiful moan. he doesn't hold back anymore – he wants you to know how good you make him feel, too.
his body relaxes on top of you as he listens to you trying to catch your breath. he pulls you as close as he possibly can.
"did s'good for me." he gives you another sloppy kiss on the nape of your neck before hiding his flushed face in your hair. you give him a weak hum, the exhaustion hitting you like a truck. your eyes flutter shut but you gather your last strength to raise and pull his hand to your lips. you need to feel him; more, more, more – he needs to be even closer. always.
soft lips against the back of his hands, you whisper. "iloveyou..."
the words all mix together, coming out as a muddled mess... but it's his muddled mess. he can't help but smile lazily at your sleepy confession.
"i love y'too."
he lets you rest for a bit, he knows you need it. he plays with your hair and he drags his fingers over your smaller ones. he doesn't want to pull away, he wants to stay like this forever.
941 notes · View notes
slvttyplum · 2 days
Note
nipple piercing with Gojo 💭💭
I don't know if you accept suggestions, but if so, if you can, can you accept mine? please
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satoru was obsessed with your boobs, and those obsessions got even bigger when you got your nipples pierced, drooling trickling down his chin every time he looked at them. the way your nipples always looked like they were hard because of the metal around them was enough to send blood rushing through his dick and somehow his dick inside of you every single time. 
he couldn't help it. he knew you said you wanted to try something different and not bother them too much, but he just had to. how could he resist your prettiest asset at the moment? latching himself onto your breasts just to suck on them; he loved it so much he never wanted to let go.
or the way that they bounced while he was inside of you, fucking you against the headboard, his dick deep inside of you to the point he could barely breathe, his eyes staying on your tits to see how they react whenever he did something.
satoru couldn't help it. as much as he loved and was obsessed with everything you did, if you changed something or decided to get something new done to whatever part of your body, he was going to be infatuated with it for at least two weeks. they just looked too pretty for him to ignore, especially the piercing choice.
even though it was just a heart, it got him hard to see how your nipples were decorated. even seeing them poke through your shirt while you walked around the house made him hard, he wanted to pull you, not his lap, and fuck you right then and there. he didn't know why he loved them so much; he just did. 
satoru wasn't the only one horny about the new enhancement on your nipples, you were just as turned on as him when it came to your new jewelry. ever since getting them pierced, your nipples were more sensitive and reactive; the slightest touch sent shivers down your spine and pleasurable tingles in between your thighs.
even after having them healed, your nipples were still sensitive; whenever satoru would suck on them, your eyes would close as you buried yourself in the pleasure, and you would cum, which was obviously new; you didn't even know you could do that. not only did they look good on you, but they also made you feel good and gave you a new experience that had your stomach twirling and your legs cramping up.
he was never going to let you forget that you had him because he was latched onto you all the time because of them. he never got tired of having your boobs in his face. the sensation of having them was nothing compared to satoru sucking on them all the time; he could not let them go, and he was so intrigued by how you reacted whenever he did anything. 
a slight touch on them made you jump, and him sucking on them made you moan and cum. imagine how tall his dick stood up when he slid his hand in between your thighs and felt how wet you were, practically dripping down your leg. he was all smiles; he realized how sensitive to the touch you were before you even realized that, making sure to lick, suck, or touch them whenever he was inside you so that he could feel your walls clamp around him. 
making sure you felt every sensation that ran on and through your body, making sure your back arched whenever he laid the slightest touch on top of them. you were so glad his infatuation brought you pleasure.
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moondirti · 2 days
Note
Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!
My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.
Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?
What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?
Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.
Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?
Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!
shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev
cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.
Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.
Or even understand, really.
Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...
You don't mind it.
But you still don't like him.
It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.
That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.
Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.
You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–
The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.
But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.
Things only get worse from there.
"An' where d'you think you're going?"
You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.
If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.
"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.
But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.
And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.
"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."
He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.
"Where are you going with this?"
Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.
"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"
"N-No–"
"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"
"Yes. Yes but–"
"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."
Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.
Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.
That cruel fuck.
"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."
Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.
As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.
"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."
"Si–"
He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.
"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."
You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.
"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."
You make it one block before hightailing back home.
Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.
You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.
But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.
You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.
Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.
Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.
Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.
"Miss me 'lready?"
A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.
The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.
Good dick be damned.
But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.
Account does not exist.
Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.
So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.
It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–
Account does not exist.
Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.
Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.
And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.
It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.
"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."
"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.
"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"
You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.
The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.
And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.
You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.
Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.
Just as Simon barges into your room.
You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.
But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.
"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.
Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.
(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)
That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.
You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.
"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."
"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.
He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.
If anything, he's the stray.
"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."
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luveline · 3 days
Note
how’re eddie and roan doing??🫶🏻
(step)mom!reader, 2k
Sometimes you know you’re not good enough for Eddie and his daughter.
It’s a pinprick pain in the same place. The tiniest fear turned to heat.
“I’m gonna get you!” he warns.
“No, you’re not!” Roan stands at the other side of the room. With the door at her father’s back, she has no proof to substantiate her claim, but she makes it anyway. “You’re slow!”
You sit on the end of the bed with one leg hanging off, a socked foot brushing the carpet. Your legs are aching and the bottom of your spine feels bruised, so you aren’t joining in tonight. You watch them glare and giggle at one another.
Your head hurts between your eyes.
Eddie makes a ‘scary’ face and runs across the room to grab her. She squeals in terrified delight and races for the bed, climbing up behind you and over it, swapping places with him easily, or so she thinks. She’s slower than he is, and can’t escape his grabbing hands as he leaps for her on your bed, flattening your stepdaughter into a pancake.
“No, no,” she laughs beneath him.
Eddie braces his arms either side of her. “I told you’d I’d get you,” he says in a menacing voice, like a character from a movie, he can do a hundred different impressions. “You’ve stolen your last Twinkie, child. Be prepared for retribution.”
“I hate retribution!” she shouts.
Eddie laughs like a kid. “You’ll have to learn to love it.”
He grabs the end of her shirt, tugs it up, and drops his face into her stomach to grow the world's most aggressive raspberry. Roan screams the house down, laughing and shrieking as the vibrations tickle her skin. Eddie takes another big breath, lets it out against her bellybutton, even as Roan’s knees come up and jab him in the arm. “Dad, oh my gosh, stop!”
He stops. “You surrender?”
“No.” A third huge raspberry gets pressed into her tummy.
“Give up,” he sing-songs, “you know you can’t defeat me, little Munson.”
“Y/N, please help me,” Roan says, half crawling under Eddie’s weight to grab your arm. “Please save me.”
Your smile is two shades off, but she doesn’t notice, and you wouldn’t want her to. “I can’t, princess, only a knight can save you now.”
Eddie blows a raspberry on her tummy, then her neck. She hates that even more than the tummy ones and flings herself out of his arms with breathless laughter, the urgency of knowing you’re going to be killed by such horrible, painful, excruciating affection. “You,” she says, taking deep breaths as she slinks down onto the floor, “are the worse dad. Ever.” She laughs like taffy. “I’m listening to my body and it says I need some soda.”
“You can have a capri sun,” Eddie says firmly.
She rushes away, runs down the stairs, and it’s all Eddie can do to constrain his usual warning, you can tell. “She’s gonna fall down them,” he says, batting the hair out of his eyes, “and then what will I do?”
You smile weakly. “I don’t know, teddy. Guess we’d have to roll her around in a wheelbarrow for a bit.”
He clambers onto his knees beside you. A spiral curl falls into his eyes. Everybody’s pretty when they smile but Eddie’s a heartbreak when he’s upset, when the corner of his mouth twitches wanting to pull down and his eyes lose their mirth. “Hey, what’s wrong?” With a little more pep, “Are you tired? Hungry?”
“Sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, so I won’t accept it.” His hand hesitates by your leg. “What’s not okay?”
You shake your head, not wanting to look at him anymore. He’s prettier than you are, with a better heart. He’s a great father and you’re a shitty mom. You have less practice than he has, sure, but you can’t do anything right for Roan lately, you mess up her lunch and forget to buy her yoghurts when you’re coming home even though Eddie called you twice to make sure you got them. He didn’t even get mad. If he asks you one more time what’s wrong, you’re gonna burst into tears.
He doesn’t ask.
Eddie wraps an arm heavily over the back of your shoulders and neck. The other vys for your hand in your lap, his knuckles brushing against your thigh. “You’re not feeling up to it, is that what it is? Maybe you’re tired,” he suggests, with all his usual tenderness. You’re struck with a memory of him when you’d first started dating, how awkward he could be and how he’d shoved it aside when you had one of your worst days at work. He’d surprised you outside, Roan waiting in his backseat, promising to take you home and make you a home cooked meal. You’d eaten it under his arm like this.
There were moments before you’d been his girlfriend where you worried he wasn’t gonna let you have him. That he wasn’t gonna want you, that you’d move on from each other and have to pretend it never happened. But he’s whispering in your ear, hand latched onto your arm and rubbing circles into the tired muscle there without thought. “You can tell me anything,” he’s saying, “you know you can, just tell me what’s bothering you, don’t like it when you’re quiet…”
“Just had a bad day,” you say, tight and squeezed, so clearly evident that you’re gonna cry.
“At work?”
“All day.”
“Why? What’s bad?” he asks.
Nothing, you think, nothing’s bad, nothing is different than usual, but you feel awful. Like your hearts trying to invert itself in your chest, an upset with notes of panic.
“You know what I think it is?” he asks when you don’t answer, his demeanour dipping further and further into tenderness. “I think you didn’t eat enough at dinner, and you didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now you could use a shower and a hug and maybe a little time to yourself. When was the last time you had an hour for you?”
Your eyes crinkle tightly, your mouth twists. You get that weird rush of tingles all over your face and the heat of collecting tears. “It’s not like that,” you insist. “I love you, I don’t want time away from you, I swear.”
“I don’t want time away from you.” He kisses your cheek, twice, a third time, each one with more pressure than the kiss before. “I just mean… I don’t know, baby, I just thought you might be dealing with a lot.”
The worst thing bursts out of you, because you need him to tell you it’s not true. “I’m such a bad mom.”
The crying is unfortunate and immediate, your shoulders seizing under his arm. Eddie could tell it was coming, you’re sure, he doesn’t baulk, he never does.
“You’re not a bad mom, you’re a great mom,” he says, followed by a great wave of shushing.
“I’m awful, I’m supposed to be so much better, I can’t even remember her snacks.”
“Snacks are a really huge part of being a mom,” he says, “but she doesn’t care. She forgave you the moment you said sorry. You think she cares about her yoghurts? That’s not why she sits there waiting everyday after school, is it?”
“You asked me to get them and I forgot.”
“Well, should we call the cops now or later?”
“Eddie.”
He ushers your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, but you haven’t done anything that would make you a bad mom.”
You’re not Roan’s natural mother, you didn’t carry her, and so you find yourself in a privileged position. She treats you as she would a mom, she calls you mommy every day. You’re still letting her down.
“I love you, and Ro, and I wouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t love her, but you know… you really– you give more effort than we ever asked you to. You’re amazing. I never could have imagined getting to be with someone I love, and who loves my girl like she’s their own.” His murmuring takes the wryness of someone who knows what they’re saying is immeasurably corny, and he doesn’t stop. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is, but I do.”
“She deserves more.”
“She deserves you. You love her.”
You scrub your face, hiding from him behind your fingers. He waits in the quiet, now rubbing your back in large passes of his hand.
“Is that the only thing that’s making you like this?”
“I just feel like… everything I do, I could do better. Everything. And lately I feel so ugly. I thought this stuff would go away,” you confess, letting your hands fall away.
“I don’t think worrying ever goes away. Everybody worries about something.”
He ushers you back, the arm that warmed your shoulders dropping, his hand reaching instead for your face. He thumbs at tearstains and your damp top lip. “Please don’t cry,” he says, “you’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You’re killer, you always have been, but it’s my fault you don’t know that. I don’t tell you enough.”
He must tell you everyday, some days he tells you ten times or more. Still, it’s nice to have him say it, to place the blame of your insecurities on him, to try and make it his problem and not yours. It’s extremely loving, if extremely untrue.
“Sorry, Eddie. I think you’re right. Think I need to sleep, and, I don’t know. Stop feeling sorry for myself.” You smile weakly.
“I don’t think that’s what it is. If you need me to tell you what I think about you to feel better, I’ll do it every hour of the day.” He beams at you. “I hate when you cry.”
You huff a laugh. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
“No– No, I don’t mean it like that. Don’t make me an asshole. I’m happy to see you smile again.”
“You give a good pep talk.”
“Can I give you a kiss now, is that alright?”
“If you stop being so nice after.”
Eddie turns his face and kisses you soundly. His hand climbs to your neck, his index finger draws a short, light line up your throat as his lips move against yours, and curls into itself as he pulled away to stroke gently under your chin. Then he gives you a shove, forcing you to lay down.
“Cheer up, dummy. You’re a great mom and you’re gonna be the best wife. Chill out.”
You catch one of his mean hands to hold to your tummy.
He sits there with you for ages. Five minutes turns to ten, then ten to fifteen, nothing else said, but his hand unmoving where you’ve put it.
“Ro!” he calls eventually. “Where’d you go, bub? Are you okay?”
Her mouth is obviously full when she calls back, “I’m okay!”
“That rascal is eating my Twinkies,” he says.
“Go stop her,” you say, pinching his fingers between yours playfully, softly, one at a time.
“We’re having time to ourselves.”
“I don’t need time away from her.”
“I know. But you need time to lay down without somebody bugging you to play, or watch her do a handstand. She’ll come back as soon as she’s hid the evidence, anyways.” He rolls his eyes. “Like I won’t notice.”
You crawl towards him and curl around him, locking him in place. “Thank you for looking after me.”
“It’s literally my favourite thing to do.”
Your front to his back where he’s sitting, your face against the back of his hip, you kiss his t-shirt. He makes a soft sound, breathing out, his hands covering your arm where you’ve hooked him at the waist.
more eddie, roan and reader
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onlyhuis · 3 days
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do not disturb
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member — junhui x f reader genre — smut, a little humor, college au word count — 2.6k synopsis — everybody on campus knows that jun and his innocent little girlfriend are too shy for pda... or are they? warnings — description of female anatomy, semi-public sex (private room in a library), oral (m receiving), messy blowjob, throat fucking, cum in mouth, kinda mean hard dom!jun, degradation, name calling (slut, bitch), reader wears a skirt, brief cameo from hoshi & chan as their group project partners hehe notes — requested by @jaemlonfz — this was very fun to write lmao! thanks to my lovely @onlymingyus for reading over for me. this was a bit crazier than what i normally write but i always write fluffy sex so it was fun to return to the wild stuff for once. if you enjoyed this please let me know in a reblog or an ask! :)
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“so, just finish your guys’ section of the slides and text the group chat when you’re done, ‘kay?”
jun smiles at chan and you nod, hunched over the table writing notes in your planner.
“great… i think we're done here, then.” soonyoung grins, leaning back in his chair to stretch. “you guys got any fun plans for the weekend?”
jun looks at his watch, then glances at you. “yeah… not really. we actually gotta head out,” he says with a sigh. “reserved one of the rooms upstairs to study for our calc final on monday.”
you hum, giving the other two a pained look, as if you wish you could stay longer.
“man, that sucks.” 
chan nods in agreement with him. “yeah. well, good luck. see you guys tuesday?”
you nod and turn to leave with jun trailing behind you, waving over your shoulder as you both head towards the elevator.
“y’know, i thought this would be a lot worse,” soonyoung says after the doors shut and you and jun disappear inside, shoving a folder full of loose papers into his bag. “i thought they’d be, like, more into pda.”
chan shakes his head as he closes his laptop. “nah, they’re too shy. everybody knows they’ve been dating forever, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen them do more than hold hands. they’d probably explode if they even thought about anything else.”
“yeah, you’re right.” soonyoung shrugs and slings his backpack over his shoulder.
chan stands up, swiping his hand across the table to brush away the eraser shavings from their study session with a sigh. “i’m just glad the semester’s almost over and we don’t have to worry about this anymore.” 
“ugh, i know. we could’ve gotten stuck with jihoon the perfectionist,” soonyoung grumbles. 
“or jeonghan… i don’t think i’ve seen him come to class once after the first day.”
“she said attendance was optional though, i don’t blame him.”
chan pushes his chair in. “anyway… hey, speaking of jeonghan, are you going to sig pi’s party tonight? heard he was gonna bring the keg.”
“hell yeah.” he gestures to his backpack as they walk out the library entrance. “it’s friday, i’m gonna ignore this all weekend and do it all the night before." 
chan laughs. “same. but i'm sure the other two will have theirs done by the end of the day.”
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“mm, harder, jun— fuck!”
you whine as jun slams his hips into you, your back pressed against the whiteboard on the wall and your leg wrapped around his waist. he groans and buries his head in your chest, scraping his teeth over your skin where your breasts spill out of your tank top.
“dirty little slut,” he rasps, voice low and rough as his hands tighten around your hips for leverage. “so needy, you can’t go ten fucking minutes without having my cock inside you, hm? wanted me to fuck you right there on the table, in front of everybody in the library? in front of chan and soonyoung?”
you whimper and squeeze his bicep, remembering from just minutes ago when he'd buried his fingers in your aching pussy as soon as the elevator doors clicked shut, pressing your lips messily against his in a pathetic clash of tongues and teeth.
you already knew today wasn't going to be a very productive day as soon as you felt his hand on your thigh under the table. to anyone else you just looked studious and focused on the group project. you weren't known for being especially outgoing, so no one batted an eye when you barely spoke more than a few words the entire meeting.
but only jun knew how unceremoniously quiet you were being today, keeping your mouth firmly shut and struggling not to let out a whiny moan as his fingers smoothed over your soft skin, inching higher up beneath your skirt. only jun could feel the burning warmth radiating between your legs, tracing his fingers gently, teasingly, over your pussy.
it took mere minutes before your panties were soaked through completely, and you finally had to kick jun's leg under the table and get him to make some excuse to get you both out of there. it wasn't technically a lie; he really did have a study room reserved and you really did have calculus homework to review before your final, but it wasn't as urgent as he had made it seem to your group partners.
what was urgent, on the other hand, was your throbbing pussy and how desperately you needed him. but luckily for you he was equally as desperate and immediately gave you what you needed as soon as you'd locked yourselves in the reserved room.
with every snap of his hips his glasses slip further and further down his nose, little beads of sweat trickling down his temple from the force.
his hands slide down your sides and settle below your ass, and before you know it suddenly your back isn't against the wall anymore and he's lifting you up, dropping you on the rectangular wooden table behind you. you yelp and wrap your arms around his neck for balance, but he doesn't seem to notice or care as he grips the backs of your thighs, his cock still nestled inside you as he turns around and sets you down in one fluid motion.
he not-so-gently lays your back against the table, his hands on your hips keeping you flush against him and wrapping your legs around his waist. once he's satisfied with the change he leans over you and cups your cheek with one hand, pulling you into him to meet your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss.
he starts to pick up the pace again, slowly pulling his hips back before pushing into you, building up each thrust harder, deeper, rougher. your back slides against the smooth surface of the table but his hand on your jaw keeps your head from moving too much, making sure your gaze is fixed on him and only him.
“you wanna cum, angel?” he breathes against your mouth, his lips hot and slick with saliva as your walls squeeze tighter around him. “have you earned it?”
you whimper and try to lean your head back but his grip is firm, not letting you move.
he lets out a low noise like a growl that seems almost disappointed, but you know he's enjoying this just as much as you are. “eyes on me, sweetheart. don't make me ask again.”
“p-please,” you gasp, and he rewards your answer with a pointed thrust. “please, jun, so c-close—”
he grins and swoops down to cut you off with a kiss, clearly pleased.
“cum all over this fucking table like the needy little bitch you are.”
you gasp and clench around him with another moan, nails digging into his back as you feel yourself beginning to crest over the edge.
your eyelids flutter and your head lolls back but jun doesn't comment on it, never faltering his pace and letting you ride out the waves. he's all bark and no bite, and as soon as you give the indication that you're cumming it's like a switch is flipped in his brain and all he can think about is how to make it better, stronger, more intense and pleasurable for you.
his hand shifts to the back of your head, his fingers gently digging into your scalp to support your neck as he keeps you propped up against the table. he revels in the way your body trembles for him, because of him, your lips gone slack against his mouth and unable to even return his kisses as he continues to slam his cock into you.
his thrusts start to grow shallower as you tighten around him until he's forced to bring himself to a stop. you let out a whimper as he lays you gently down flat against the table, giving you a second to rest though his cock stays buried inside you, still hard and throbbing.
the reprieve doesn't last long though, because as soon as you've recovered enough to lift yourself back up onto your elbows he pulls you closer with a barely audible groan of your name. he kisses you greedily, swallowing your moans and replacing them with some of his own, his hand on the back of your neck keeping you pressed against him as he hovers over you. 
he breaks away for air, his breathing labored and his lips swollen from kissing you so hard. he finally pulls out of you and you let out a low whine at the loss, your thighs trembling as he steps backwards.
with a gentle but firm hand he pulls you onto the floor, dropping you onto your knees. he pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sinks down into it, leaning back against the back of the chair and spreading his legs wide.
before he even has to ask you crawl across the floor over to him, kneeling between his legs with a whimper. he lets out a breathy laugh, sighing as he pats his thigh for you to come closer. 
“you got yours, sweetheart, now return the favor.” he glances down at you and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, the corner of his mouth turned up in an expectant smirk. “you want me to cum in your mouth or in your pussy?”
you hum but don't even bother with a reply, both of you already knowing what you'll pick. you settle on the floor, placing your hands on his thighs and sliding up his legs. with a sigh he weaves his fingers into your hair encouragingly.
you wrap your lips around his tip and immediately moan at the familiar feeling of the weight on your tongue. you slowly take him deeper until you gag, tears already beginning to form in your eyes before you pull off of him teasingly. you open your mouth wider and run your tongue along the veins on the underside of his cock, taking your time to let your saliva coat his length. you can still taste yourself on him, the salty bitterness of your juices from when you came around him earlier.
you guide him back into your mouth and start to bob your head, letting out a whine the deeper you take him. spit leaks from the corners of your mouth, dripping down his shaft and pooling at the base of his cock.
you can barely fit half his length down your throat, but still you move your head up and down so enthusiastically, your hands twisting and jerking the area where your lips can't reach.
if jun wasn't so distracted at how good your mouth feels he might have laughed. his sweet, innocent girlfriend sucking him off in the library, with the most adorable look on your face as you struggle to take his cock, your nose all scrunched up in concentration. your skirt lays fanned out across your lap, stopping short just above your knees as you sit on the floor.
you swirl your tongue around his tip and lift your eyes to meet his, warmth flooding your chest when you see how truly fucked-out his expression is. you move your hands, trailing your fingers down to cup his balls as you press your other hand flat against his stomach for leverage.
the noises coming out of your mouth are almost enough to convince him that you're getting off on this more than he is, if he couldn't feel it getting harder and harder to hold off his own orgasm. he slows down for just a second to wipe away a tear with his thumb before he grabs your hands and places them on his thighs.
“you know what to do, angel,” jun groans softly and you look up at him and nod, tapping your fingers against his leg.
once you've given the signal he works his fingers into your hair and pulls you down hard, grabbing the back of your head and fucking your throat without mercy.
you let out a muffled gasp in surprise but quickly become accustomed to his rough thrusts. you struggle to relax your jaw, moaning and drooling around his cock but your whimpering only spurs him on more as he bucks his hips into your mouth.
he groans out continuous praises, his voice suddenly growing hushed as if he's afraid someone might hear, though your combined moans when he was fucking you earlier were by far louder than he is now. 
despite jun's incredible stamina you can feel the tension building in his muscles, his thighs strained as he snaps up into your mouth, and you moan around his length to try and get him closer to the edge. tears continue to stream down your face as you hollow your cheeks, even now still trying to take him deeper. 
“fuck, baby— so fucking good… just—” he grunts, falling silent for a moment before he releases into your mouth with a long, low whine.
you squeeze jun's thighs to ground yourself as he floods your mouth with cum, feeling his cock jump and twitch against your lips with each rope he pumps onto your tongue.
your jaw aches and your legs are wobbly as jun carefully pulls you to your feet, setting you on his lap with a soft groan. he rubs his palm soothingly over your thigh, slipping just under the hem of your skirt.
he glances at the table, where your panties lie discarded on the floor next to your backpacks. jun wraps one arm around your waist to keep you secure on his lap and leans down to pick them up.
“you need these back, or can i keep them?” he asks as he holds them up in front of you, a hint of mischievousness in his tone but his voice softer now.
you grin and shake your head, and he leans forward to kiss your cheek as he balls them up and shoves them into his cardigan pocket before pulling your tank top back up over your breasts.
“good. now, wanna go home?”
the elevator ride back down to the lobby is decidedly calmer. you let out a whine when jun squeezes a handful of your ass, letting his hand linger on your cheek for just a second too long before the bell dings and the shiny silver doors slide open. you tug your skirt down as far as it'll go as you walk towards the exit, and even though jun's standing behind you and you can't see his face, you know he's wearing the subtlest of smirks.
you breathe a little sigh of relief once you finally get outside of the building and into the spring sunshine, standing in the parking lot waiting next to the passenger side door of jun's car for him to unlock it.
the relief doesn't last long, of course, when jun puts his hand back on your thigh as he pulls the car into reverse and backs out of the lot.
and by the time you get back to his tiny apartment, it doesn't take long for the rest of your clothes to end up on his floor and you bouncing on his lap. the biggest relief isn't your orgasms, or even his: it's the privacy. because now you know you won't be disturbed.
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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
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cntloup · 1 day
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husband!simon x wife!reader
i know im on a break but here's a lil smth hehe🤭🩷💫🌸
"get out through the backdoor!" Simon utters hurriedly, "and take this... just in case." he hands you the gun which he keeps under his pillow.
"i'm not gonna leave you!" you blurt out as you feel the tingle of tears behind your eyes, fearing the worst possible outcome.
"you have to! please just go! i'll take care of them!" he says in a hushed tone in order not to alert the intruders.
he reaches in his nightstand and grabs an envelope and hands it to you.
"here's all the information you need in case i'm gone." he says in a monotone manner, masking how he truly feels inside.
he's never put much value on his life, always focused to get the job done no matter the cost. until you appeared and swept him off his feet.
now he senses a churn in his stomach, utter fear gnawing at his heart, not for himself, but you. what would happen to you when he's gone?
you take the envelope with shaky hands, "simon, you mean...?" you ask, frightened out of your mind.
"yes. if i die, you'll know what to do." he responds, "please don't say that!" you plead, averting your gaze from him to hide your tears.
he embraces you tightly and kisses the crown of your head, "go!" he says and ushers you out of the bedroom, making sure the path is clear for you to head out back.
moments later, after throwing punches and slashing through flesh with sharply honed knives and bullets flying around, simon finds himself among five dead bodies and a pool of blood on the carpet.
just as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, he hears the sound of a gunshot.
he's startled and filled with anxiety as he steps outside to see what happened, finding himself praying for the first time in his life that it's not you.
only then, he meets your terrified figure, shaking and eyes widened in sheer shock.
his eyes land on the blood splattered all over your shirt and you notice his anxious eyes, "it's not mine!" you say breathily, chest heaving as adrenaline courses heavily through your body.
in an instant, he runs towards you and engulfs you in his strong arms while letting out a sigh of relief, "i thought i lost you!" he murmurs in your hair, "can't get rid of me that easily, babe!" you say back with a low chuckle, though still trembling.
"i'll call price to help with the mess." he says, guiding you inside the house with an arm draped over your shoulders as you're still stuck in a state of lingering shock.
-----
"you looked so fuckin' sexy in that moment with the gun in your hand and blood all over you!" he says with a smirk as you cuddle on the couch days after the incident.
"yeah? you liked that?" you ask with a playful smile as your glinting eyes meet his.
"i'm proud of you! my wife is such a badass!" he says, a soft smile adorning his scarred lips and pure adoration dancing in his eyes as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.
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jaylaxies · 1 day
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HARD THOUGHT !
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pairing: jungwon x fem!reader
cw: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, usage of nicknames.
warning: 18+ content, minors dni
a/n: this was requested by anonnie! i hope you enjoy <3
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“Don’t fucking move,” Jungwon groans right against your cunt, sending the vibrations up your spine as he spread your folds with his fingers, caressing your clit teasingly, looking up at you for just a second—his lips wet with his drool and your juices, dripping down his chin, “don’t you dare move, kitten,” he chuckles, his gaze dark as he holds on to your thighs tight enough for it to bruise later.
When you said you needed a release, this is exactly what you had asked for. Exam season stressed you out beyond words, and after the last exam of the subject you hated the most, there was no way you’d act calm, especially when Jungwon came to pick you up, clad in the white button up which was attractive as it is, but he had to go a step further by rolling up his sleeves which did nothing to hide his veiny hands.
“You did so well on your exams, let me reward you now, hm?” He said, eyes focused on finding the perfect spot to park his car, his hand squeezing your thigh wasn’t helping either, a low whine leaving your lips, and even though your eyes were closed, you could clearly feel him smirking as he stopped the car.
“Get in the back,” he whispered.
And that’s how you found yourself all spread out for Jungwon, even in the little room that the backseat provided, he made it all work. With your arched back pressed against the door, you tugged on his hair harder, a growl leaving his mouth with how immersed he was in pushing his tongue inside your hole, his rough thumb pad taking care of your clit in a speed which had your legs feeling weak.
“J—Jungwon,” you whined, causing him to hum and chuckle as he felt your body shaking.
He couldn’t help but dig his fingers in the flesh of your thighs, pushing his face closer to your cunt, as if he wanted to suffocate between your legs.
The sensation coursed through your body, your toes curling as the windows started fogging up with your activities and Jungwon had no intentions to stop, lapping up your cunt as if he’d be waiting ages to do this, to taste you, and somehow, each lick and flick of his tongue on your clit felt more intense than the previous one.
“You did so well, so fucking well, kitten,” he mumbled, hair messy as you kept on moaning louder, chanting his name as your thighs shook and you squirmed, but his hold on you was tight enough for you to stay in your place. He could care less about your cunt dripping all over his car seats, he only had one thing in his mind—your cunt.
It was as if he was addicted to your taste, and he ate you out like he meant it, making sure that your whole body could feel his desperation, your mind numbing as you approached your high, and Jungwon wasn’t going to stop, not even when you were throwing your head back and biting your first to stop your moans.
“Fucking hell, let me hear your moans,” he cussed, slapping your cunt while staring at you with dark eyes—a warning for you to behave. You couldn’t help but listen, somehow moaning even louder than before, trying to grab something, anything, which is why you tugged on his hair again, causing him to suck on your clit while fucking his fingers into your wet cunt, still not stopping.
“Jungwon, please,” you cried out, and he only went harder, using his two fingers and thrusting them into your hole so hard, you felt as if you were seeing stars, your sounds reverberating and your mind blanking out even more as he went on, so fucking needy to have a taste of you, and you knew you were gone the second he curled his fingers in your cunt. The last bit of sanity left your body as you squirmed and squirted all over his fingers while he only chuckled and rubbed your clit with his fingers, loving the sight in front of him, letting you breathe for just a second before asking:
“Ready for round two, kitten?”
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© Jaylaxies | tumblr
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Text
Perfect. | joel miller x f!reader drabble, 1.6k
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Summary: You're full of Joel, but you need him in your mouth, too. Joel delivers.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, pwp, rough sex, dom!joel, sub!reader, established relationship, everything that happens is discussed and consensual, cursing, praise kink, size kink, degradation kink, unprotected p in v, minor anal play, nipple play, reader is obsessed with Joel's fingers, hair pulling, (1) ass slapping, manhandling, gagging kink, deepthroat, free use at the end, facial, cum eating, belated aftercare, as always, let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: There's not much to say, this is pure filth, just to cleanse my palette of all the anguish I've brought upon myself! It was written on a whim, so here goes 👀
P.S.: I don't need to remind you how much I hate summaries. I hate them. OK, ily all, bye!
Dividers by @cafekitsune
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“Fuck, you feel so good-” Joel pants between your breasts as you take him deep inside you, riding him, “uuuuuh, perfect- fuck- perfect little pussy-” He’s so big, you feel him in your belly. Your cunt is stretched to its limit but you’re so wet from all the orgasms he pulled out of you before impaling you on his hard cock, that he slides inside you with ease.
He sits on the edge of the bed, his feet touching the soft carpet beneath him. His hands cradle your ass, kneading it and maneuvering you up and down on his thick cock, while you lock your hands around his neck for leverage.
His fingertips glide lightly over your asshole as he holds you open and stretched in his palms, feeling your tight ring of muscle clench on his digits. His lower belly and balls are soaked in your arousal, the hairs on his base glued together by your sticky slick. Your clit rubs against them every time you roll your hips.
Joel runs his big calloused palms up your back, sending shivers down your spine and as you arch your back in pleasure, pushing your breasts closer to his face, he cups them, pinching your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You look down at his hands as he continues to arouse your tits and the sight makes your clit twitch and your cunt clench around him.
His wet tongue enters the game, flicking it up and down over your erect nubs, sending jolts of pleasure through your body and your thighs begin to tremble both from exhaustion and arousal.
Your fingers run through his hair, tugging gently. He moans as his hand comes down hard on your asscheek. You whimper at the spreading pain, your cunt gushing around his cock, the lewd sounds of your joined sexes only making it more obvious.
You fuck him so good and hard, sucking him deep inside you, you start creaming around him.
You become obsessed with his hands. Big, strong, veined and tanned, with tiny freckles, his fingers calloused and skillful; their expert touch, always bring you to completion.
“I wanna suck your fingers. Please..” you coo into his ear, your hands tugging desperately at the unruly curls at the back of his head.
“Mhhhh..yeah?” Joel turns his head towards you, his aquiline nose pressing against your cheek.
Your grip on him tightens as you continue to bounce on his cock, your voice laced with need and lust, “Please, Joel..”
Joel grants your wish and moves a palm away from your breast but doesn’t bring it to your mouth. Instead, he snakes it between your bodies, collecting your arousal from his slick-coated base. He’s going to be the death of you.
He brings his shiny fingers to your face allowing you to take the lead, go on, then. Milky strings of your slick create little webs connecting his digits together.
You encircle his wrist with your delicate fingers and bring his palm to your nose, smelling the combination of your juices and his musk, making your eyes roll. “You dirty little thing..” he mutters to himself, smirking as he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the otherwise silent room.
You open your eyes and slowly wrap your lips around his middle and ring fingers, swirling your tongue around the tips as you would his cock head. “Fuck.” he grunts through his teeth and you feel him twitch inside you, his breath stuttering. You hollow out your cheeks and suck them into your warm mouth, bobbing your head up and down on them, your eyes never leaving his.
“You like that, babygirl? Suckin’ my fingers like you do my cock?”
“Mmhmm..” you all but moan, your face wrecked from the intensity of the moment.
“Wanna gag on them?” Fuck yes.
“Mhhhh” you whine now, sucking even harder to make a point. He pushes his fingers further into your mouth as his cock pushes deeper into you, stroking that sweet spot that only he can reach. He presses on your gag reflex, making you gag and your eyes water. Your grip on his wrist is firm, making sure his fingers stay in your mouth.
“Such a fuckin’ whore f’ me, aren’t you? Stuffing your holes full ’a me, huh?” You clench violently around him, almost to the point of coming, your breath coming in short pants. He leans forward, his lips brushing your ear “Maybe I should stuff your tight little hole with my other hand, I bet you’d like me in there, too. I bet you’d take me so well, yeah?”
His dirty talk drives you wild and you arch your spine again, moaning around his fingers but he quickly withdraws them, strings of saliva briefly connecting your lips to his tips and you whimper at the loss.
He lowers his slick fingers to tap quickly but gently on your swollen clit. You cry out at the stimulation, waves of electricity rippling through your body. “Gonna come on my cock baby? Yeah..” he breathes, his eyes fixed on your face, contorted with pleasure, “Yeah, you are.”
That does it; you come so hard, spasming around his stiff length, making a mess on his lap. Joel stops fucking into you, staying buried to the hilt inside you, feeling the tight grip of your cunt choking him in rhythm.
“That’s it, thaaat’s it, look at me, baby, fuck- fuckmmphh- this perfect cunt-” Joel keeps guiding you through your orgasm, biting where your neck meets your shoulder.
Your mouth is slack from the force of your release but it feels so empty and before you come down completely you are begging for him. “I need you in my mouth, Joel- I need you to fill me with your cum, please Joel, please..” you beg deliriously.
“Christ, baby.” Joel grits his teeth and pulls you off his lap and his hard member, forcing you onto your knees and shoving his cock into your mouth, grabbing handfuls of your hair. He can't deny you when you beg so prettily.
The taste is heavenly. Tasting yourself on him as you breathe in his heady scent makes your head spin with desire. “That’s it, gag on it.” he says as he focuses on his shaft, veiny, swollen and shiny, disappearing into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.
He knows. He sees it all in your eyes, you’re so far gone, surrendered to your pleasure and his. Joel begins to fuck your throat in deep, sharp thrusts, his thighs tensing and bulging under your palms. He rests his hand around your throat, feeling it bulge under his fingertips.
You’re utterly ruined. Your eyes are bloodshot and filled with tears, and your lips are stretched and swollen as you drool around him. Your face is coated in sweat, saliva and your arousal. You can taste your cum and his pre-cum on your tongue, along with every ridge and vein of his erection. You just kneel there, between his legs like a toy, letting him take and give what you both need.
“Fuck, look at you. Look at you, my sweet girl, choking on this big cock.”
You don’t react, you just sit there, pliant and doe-eyed and take it; content and worry-free. You make it so hard for him to hold back any longer. He’s about to come and he has this irresistible urge to ruin that innocent, fucked out look on your face.
He pulls his cock out of your mouth and jerks furiously over your face, his biceps flexing from the effort, his other hand firmly gripping your hair to maneuver you as he pleases. You look up at him in total surrender, tongue out, longing for what’s to come.
His eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw is slack and his mouth is open in that perfect shape that his plush lips form, as he breathes heavily. His broad torso, covered in both yours and his sweat, rises and falls rapidly, his muscles flexing deliciously under his skin.
He comes and comes with a deep, guttural moan all over your face; your forehead, your eyelashes, your nose, your cheeks, your lips, everything is marked by his thick, warm, milky cum. Your cunt flutters at this act of degradation and possession.
“Don’t open them; it’ll sting.” you hear him say while catching his breath, referring to your closed eyes and your cum-coated lashes. You do as he says and wait behind the darkness of your closed eyelids for him to take care of you. But Joel just sits there, admiring his handiwork as he comes down from his high.
You can hear his heavy breathing and the lack of sight is the only thing that makes you realize he’s human, like you. This otherwise divine creature is human.
“Let’s clean you up.” you finally hear him say as you feel his thumb wipe his now cold and dry cum from your skin, press it gently against your lips and feed it to you. You swallow every last drop of it, your tongue warm and welcoming around his digit. He leaves your eyes last.
When he’s finished, he holds the sides of your face with his palms, taking a good look at your submissive form, resting his forehead against yours.
You slowly open your eyes as he plants soft kisses all over your face. “Perfect..” you hear him murmur, more to himself than to you.
“Perfect and mine.”
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harmonysanreads · 3 days
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as Sunday's canon wife, what do you think about a reader who, whenever sitting or just near Sunday, gently takes a glove off of his hand and just holds the bare hand. when he looks at you in question you give a smile and he asks himself why he loves you but then smiles back because you're adorable.
maybe you'd even push your fingers through the gaps in his gloves instead-
(also I am yet to play the quest so ignore this if it's out of character for him)
With each passing day, I feel like we share a telepathic connection Zuri, because I was JUST about to make a post about Sunday and his gloves :o
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Hear me out, white gloves in particular have symbolized class and cleanliness. For someone as tidy as Sunday moreover, they're an inconsequential part of his daily life. I hc that he even carries extra pairs with him just in case. And for that man to take them off himself or to allow someone else to do it, is a big deal.
Sunday is touch starved, which he didn't quite realize until he met you. It's not that he's been deprived of them, but the touches he's had to exchange were meaningless formalities and they never permeated the barrier of his gloves. You are the only one deserving of that privilege, so whenever Sunday shares a moment with you without external interferences, he makes sure to take off his gloves — actually, that's not enough, he'll even wash his hands before touching you ; you shouldn't come in contact with the filth that he regularly deals with.
The very first time you held hands without any restrictions, Sunday couldn't go for more than a few minutes because he felt like he was seeing stars. Please don't misunderstand, he likes it!Just give him a moment to process all the feelings. He sincerely hopes you won't quit with your advances thinking he's uncomfortable, but if you do, at least he'll know that you respect his boundaries ; way to go, making him fall harder.
But now arrives a different problem, Sunday loves feeling your touch with his bare hands so much that he craves for it even in public settings. But he has an image to maintain and he really doesn't want to deal with more barrages of back handed comments on his apparent “favoritism”. Please don't go holding hands or being touchy with anyone else in the meantime, he isn't as put together as appears inside.
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