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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

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a waiting place

A/N: In honor of @sillyrabbit81 and her milestone event. Congrats friend! I don't know if this is cheating but I took two screenshots, sent one and kept one for myself. I thought it would take me days, but I sat down and this feeling just poured from me.

Her event masterlist is here.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader (my first time with writing him, please be gentle)

Prompt: Slow & Romantic // Geralt // Mirror Sex

Summary: You have finally found a place of your own

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: there is sex in this story so NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI

It was rumored to have been made with magic, but when you finally stumbled across the mirror tucked deep in the recesses of the farmhouse abandoned in Ebbing after the start of the Northern War, it was draped in a dusty cloth and looked anything but.

Still, the vibrations were calling, remnants of your ancestors, whose mastery of craft had placed the various pieces of skillfully forged metal and intricately carved wood together around the silver-backed glass. When you touched it, a warmth spread from your fingertips to your toes, and you knew you were home.

Exactly what kind of home had yet to be determined, since your skills were still newfound and you’d yet to master any sort of transformative spells. Backbreaking hard work was all you were able to put into it, but the efforts were worth it once you were able to lay down in a bed of your own making, the mirror standing in a newly prominent place of honor against the wall across the room.

In the morning, you readied a hot bath, filled with nourishing herbs and healing tinctures, and placed a tray of fresh bread flanked by cured meats and cheeses on the small table beside the wooden tub along with a bowl of warm stew and pitcher of ale.

And exactly three years after your initial meeting, you called out to him, desire coursing through your veins and energy pulsing in your reflection, clearly bound with the mastery of your ancients.

“I am here. I made it. I need you.” You repeated the words in thoughts through the spells you chanted so that when he arrived, he would know why. Pulling someone through space and time was never easy, on them or you. But the yearning was too great, fueling the need to feel his skin against yours, his breath in your ear.

You helped him out of his clothes and into the water and waited for him to invite you in next, knowing full well the need he’d feel when he’d recovered from the journey. He held your arm and wouldn’t let go, even as his grunts and groans indicated his agitated and depleted state. So you sat next to him as long as you could before it became apparent you’d need to replenish the hot water in the bath soon.

He reached for you once the steam was rising from the tub once again. You dropped your sleep shift to the ground and let him guide you into the water with him. “The floor will dry”, you told yourself. “This moment may never come again.”

His gaze was tender and grateful and you smiled back at him, pleased at his reaction to being called here.

“Were you finished?” you asked. “Did I time it right?”

“Just,” he grunted.

“I’ve missed you. So very much.”

“I’m glad you survived your trial. Is this where you’ll stay from now on?”

“Need to know where to find me?” you smirked.

“And when. Yes.”

“I imagine there’ll come a time when I’ll need to go back. I can only learn so much more from books; I’ll need another mentor soon.”

“But for now?” he trailed off with a quirked brow.

“For now you find me here.”

With the water cooled and your bodies’ heat risen, Geralt stood with your legs wrapped around his waist, lips still locked against yours, a hand cradling your ass while the other pressed against your back to keep you tight to his chest. He stepped with ease out of the tub and to the bed, where he laid you down and peeled your limbs from him.

“I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me. We’ve been in that water together for ages. Please,” you reached for him, but he stood still, head cocked to the side regarding your naked form. You watched him breathe in deeply and sigh the air out as he closed his eyes in contemplation. When he opened them again, you could swear you saw sparks as he acquiesced to your desire.

He crawled over your naked body, drops of water from his long silvery hair landing to cool the fire on your skin. But that flame for him would never douse, not in a million years. And while he had given in to your need to touch him and hold him in bed immediately, he wanted to take you apart slowly.

“Is that it?” he asked, head turned toward the mirror where he could make out his image poured over you, your leg draped over his thigh.

“Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He pulled back, taking you with him as he shifted to his knees and deftly turned you away from him, facing the mirror.

“What it reflects, certainly.” His voice was low in your ear as you watched the backs of his fingers caress your arms and down your sides. You knew his cat eyes could see more details in that image across the room than you ever could, but he did a good job of putting on a whole show of movement you could see as well as feel, placing kisses along your shoulder as a hand returned to cup your heaving chest. He slid his other hand forward around your waist and down over your belly, reaching for the heat between your thighs. Your eyes closed involuntarily when his fingers found their way inside you.

“Please watch. I want to see all of you, especially your eyes, while you come undone for me,” he whispered in your ear.

You wanted to feel all of him inside you immediately; you were practically bursting with the heat of your need for him but since you knew that would never wane, you gave in and watched the mirror while he slowly and methodically stroked you to orgasm.

You felt yourself floating back to the bed and watched him peer down at you again while he took himself in hand and lined up at your entrance. He let out a long, low groan as he lowered himself to pulse into you slowly.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

“I’ve missed this too, Geralt. I wish it would never end.”

“I’m going to make this last, alright?” he asked, head pulled back to gauge your interest.

You nodded and smiled, pleased he felt up to a long night after such a journey. You’d absolutely have to place a mark next to the entry in your spell book you’d used to prepare the bath, as the concoction had clearly done its job.

He didn’t lie. For hours, he teased and tortured you with his cock, grinding you deep and slow into the mattress while he caressed your mouth with his. His tongue tangled against yours, leaving only to trace lines of lust along your neck or chest. Sometimes, he’d roll you over him and urge you to take one of your many releases while riding him upright, his hands firm around your waist.

You lost count of how many ways he brought you pleasure before he finally pulled you to hands and knees in front of him, once again facing the mirror. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he gently lifted your torso against him, hand gripping lightly at your neck.

“I want you to watch again. Let the source of your true power soak up every bit of ours together,” his voice rumbled in your ear and vibrated against your back. When you nodded, he pressed you back down, chest all the way to the bed while he gripped your hips tight and rocked into you.

Even now, in this position usually reserved for wild abandon, Geralt made love to you. His movement was calculated, his strokes long and deliberate. His eyes sought yours in the reflection, though it was hard to tear your view away from where his hips disappeared behind your ass.

“Will you come with me one last time?” he begged, completely out of character and for a moment, you felt a sadness you hadn’t expected. Surely he wouldn’t let this be the last time you found each other across this vast lifetime?

“If you promise to come back,” you answered, as if you could ever hold back your release once he began to pump in earnest.

“When I can, yes.”

With that most useless of promises secured, you smiled and nodded again. “Come for me, Geralt.”

It only took a few more strokes before he came with a growl, and you were lost in a blinding explosion of lights. Collapsed next to one another, you steadied your heart rate and burrowed into him as he curled himself around you. His sustained heat would never allow you to sleep long like this, but you sighed with content anyway.

You had a home to call your own, and Geralt was willing to follow you here when he could, and that was all you cared about for now.

Taglist: Everything Henry - Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want on or off, though remember sometimes Tumblr won't let me tag you.

@kittenofdoomage @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @feelmyroarrrr @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt x reader #rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #a waiting place #mine #deandoesthingstome

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shibaraki · 1 year

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Dabi secludes himself the moment Gigantomachia arrives at the new hideout. Along with the rest of the world, you had been unable to take your eyes off him; close enough to watch the maniacal gleam grow dim, exhilaration bleeding from his expression. He retreats into the recesses of his mind. One word answers, if any. To anyone else in the league it may look like the same uninterested, feigned nonchalance he always wore.

You see the fight leave him, a close-mouthed cry for help lodged behind your teeth. It’s like watching him drown. This was exhaustion — the type you felt deep, deep in the marrow of your bones. It is a humid chill that clings, settles itself under the skin, hypothermic in nature, sinew stiff and movement ungainly as it weighs the body down. You wonder just how long he had been wading at the surface.

Dabi— Touya disappears around a corner. Sleuths away from the group with a flippant wave and the excuse of finding a bathroom. Shigaraki is still in critical condition, thus it is barely heard and easily accepted, as the remainder of their forces scramble for some semblance of a plan.

Compress’s large hand squeezes your shoulder. He’s a gentle touch, always has been, even with the hard prosthetic. “Go,” he encourages you toward Touya’s direction with a light shove. “He shouldn’t be alone”.

You’re not far behind him. Bracing himself against the wall to support every wide, sluggish footstep, it seems like Dabi hasn’t even noticed your presence. Tremors visibly quake through him. The fingers splayed open across weathered brick curl into a tight fist, as if to smother the shake, cover his resurfacing pain with a wet blanket and suffocate the embers before they spread. He’d know all about that.

The warehouse is damp and unbearably stale. He is the whitest, brightest thing in view. He barely makes it to the bathroom door before slumping forward, a rough, pained sound wrenching from his chest. You amble forward, arms reflexively reaching to hold him up, abrupt as they stop short. “Shit, shit,” your hands hover by his sides. “Dabi—!”

“What the fuck do you want,” he slurs. A threat rather than a question. The words are bloated, his voice thick in a way that plucks at your own. You feel your throat swell. He hates it when you cry. Whether it was envy of the release or anger you couldn’t be sure, but your wet inhale draws attention, and he’s slow to conceal just how quickly his face crumbles.

You swallow. “Let me help,” and you carefully grasp his elbow, lower lip wobbling at the blatant flinch under your fingers. He’s cold. Something warm and sticky smears across your palm and you try not to think about it. Unbidden, the still fresh memory of him throwing himself from Machia’s back flashes through your mind; swaddled in blue flame until he was just a pinprick, the needle-sized eye of the storm. Skeptic had startled when you screamed after him.

Dabi hisses. Your grip unknowingly tightened, and you lax your fingers with a murmured apology as you guide him into the bathroom. His laboured breathing worsens with movement. Clinging to the counter top, he clutches his stomach and forcefully curls into himself, almost collapsing as he heaves.

The thick smell of blood, ash and bleach fills your lungs like air. “Sit,” you instruct him softly, taking on his weight without complaint when he leans against you. Slowly descending, your knees bend until you are level, forehead pressed to his own. You lower him onto the edge of the tub and lift the toilet lid. He doesn’t let go.

Smoothing over his corded biceps, the metal rings keeping his skin together are still hot to the point that they, too, feel cold. Were it not for the sting you wouldn’t know the difference — you wonder if it’s all the same to him. Another convulsing motion. His jaw gives an unsettling click, mouth open to pass another dry retch. Aside from a furious sob, nothing comes.

This might be it. Buried under the rubble and soot, a small, red haired boy is clawing his way out. Dabi was but a makeshift shelter to hide all his hurt behind. Now that the door has been cracked, everything is spilling out into the open, and physically forcing it’s way out of his body.

I’m here would be too on the nose, too much like pressing on an open wound. Instead, you tell him, “I’ve got you, Touya”. The scar tissue pulls taut around his eyes as he glares up at you through white bangs, tipped black and clumped with dirt. Despite knowing that he is Endeavor’s son, you cannot see the resemblance.

You chance a kiss between his brows. More for you than it is for him. Again, “I’ve got you”.

#I wrote this in like ten minutes I know it sucks I just needed to GET THESE EMOTIONS OUT #I will never emotionally recover from this #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

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Natural Born Sinner / part 3 /

The Comedian has addictions too, and they include more than just cigars and violence. | Eddie Blake/OC |

part 3 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include dubcon smut, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, degradation, stalking, emotional/psychological abuse, misogyny, name-calling, breaking and entering, past abuse, dark themes*

౨ৎ

What will I say? / What will I do? / Maybe it's fear / That leads your rage / Maybe you're me, and I am you

He lurched both of them forward so she was thrown up onto her knees, pushed her face first into the peach colored tile wall, and she knew it was all over.

With one surge, she was pushed face first against the tile wall, and there was barely a beat that went by before he pushed himself inside of her. The girth and length of him stretched her and filled her so good; she let out a wild animal sound that she'd never before made in her life.

It was all over now.

With that first stroke, all of her resistance had evaporated. It was all him now - he took over everything like he always did. He'd never left her mind. What was the point in even trying to make him? He was right; no matter what, it always ended this way. And when it was this good, what was really so bad about it?

Her brain was all Eddie, Eddie, EDDIE!

She moaned his name, her body rocking against the wall in time to his steady thrusts, "I hate you,"

His breathe was coming out in hot gusts against the back of her neck, and he groaned when she used her inner muscles to squeeze around him, "I know you do," He didn't even try to argue with her - he always knew the struggles she had in her mind about him. He was, in fact, irresistible, something he prided himself on. "But ya also fuckin' love me."

In between gasps, she breathed out, "That's a load of shit!"

Eddie chuckled deeply behind her, "That's a real sexy thing to say right now..."

"Shut up," she moaned out, her cheek against the tile shower wall. The man behind her reached around to her front to grope at her breasts, and she whimpered at the feel of his hot, calloused hands palming her sensitive flesh. She was close already, though she didn't want to be. That would just mean he'd won, once again. "Eddie..." But God, she couldn't help it. Everything was just so good, so fucking good - it was like trying to stop a train moving at a hundred miles an hour on a dime.

As if he could read her mind, he rumbled into her hair, "We just fit so damn good, baby; we're perfect fuckin' matchin' puzzle pieces, that's why it feels so damn good all the time, every time, that's why I can't fuckin' stay away from you and you can't fuckin' say no to me - we're two peas in a pod, hun, uh, fuckkk," He said all of this while he was fucking her, her body bouncing against the porcelain edge of the tub.

The whole time he was babbling just brought her closer and closer to her release that she knew would be one of many this evening. Her fight was steadily receding back to the recesses of her mind as her pleasure mounted and was brought to the forefront of her brain. EddieEddieEddieEDDIE-

"Oh, no," she moaned out, unable to stop herself.

Eddie Blake chuckled into her hair, taking pride and pleasure in her defeat, "Cum for me, 'Chelle,"

She let out another animal noise that she'd never made; one of pure pleasure and defeat as her sweet release exploded; he was right. She couldn't say no to him. Only he could bring her this type of pleasure, give her this kind of high. Only. Him.

He slowed at her back as she came down from her orgasm, kissing her hair, her neck, her shoulders. She openly shivered at the feel of his scratchy beard on her soft skin, but it was a good feeling. The thought of defying him did nothing for her anymore; it had all been zapped from her mind with that first release. Her body that had once been held rigid against him with defiance was now liquid and compliant. Her limbs contained no further fury to fight at the moment. Maybe tomorrow she would feel different, but now, she didn't care. Right now was all about her and him.

He had not come yet; he wouldn't for a while, she knew, and he gently turned her around in his arms in the bathtub and pulled her in to kiss him on the lips. "Baby..." She openly accepted his kiss now, the fight gone from her body, satisfaction having turned her bones to liquid and satiating her for that moment. His tongue met with hers and she let out a low moan against his lips, kissing him back lazily. The wet sounds of their lips meeting gave her a tingly feeling in her lower back, and she felt the familiar arousal slowly returning to her core. She didn't want to fight anymore tonight. She wanted to be with him like a lover, to enjoy his company like he was her boyfriend. She didn't want to fight anymore; she just wanted him.

This was it. He'd broken her down once again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and accepted his embrace, pressing her damp breasts against his equally damp chest. The hair on his chest tickled her nipples and she tried to scoot her lower body closer to his across the bottom of the tub. It was easier said than done; the bath was barely big enough for one person, let alone two people, and one of them being built like a linebacker. Bed. Move to the bed. The thought made her breath quicken and her throat suddenly parched with thirst for him, and she started to rise up out of the bathtub, her hands not letting go of him. He must have misunderstood because he held fast to her waist as she tried to stand up off of her sore knees that she knew would have bruises all over them. "Where you goin'?" came his rasping voice, sounding ferocious, his brown eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

She gulped, her breaths coming heavy with her own arousal, chest heaving, "I- There's more room in the bed," She barely got the words out before he rose up out of the water, holding her body flush against his and pulling her up with him. Apparently she didn't have to tell him twice. When they were both standing and she was flush against him and she realized once again how much he towered over her, how much bigger his body was than hers, the musky smell of him permeating all of her senses. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn't he be disgusting, not charming, not handsome? It wasn't fair. Maybe a stronger woman could resist him, but she wasn't that woman. She wanted him and there was nothing she could do about it.

Between her legs ached, and she rose on tiptoes to press her hips against his to try and relieve some of the pressure, hoping his cock would slide between her legs and rub against her soaking wet lips.

"Thought you wanted to go to the bed?" One of his big hands tangled into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, She let out a wordless whine as he licked a hot, wet line up her neck to her earlobe, where she felt his scruffy chin scrape her skin deliciously. "That's okay, we can go there after."

After?

Then he hoisted her up into his strong arms without warning, her thighs on either side of his hips and his hard flesh pressed against her core. Moaning with need as he pressed her back against the wall, she gripped his broad, sinewy shoulders with both hands as he pressed his hard, steel rod into her glossy opening. "Ohh, fuck, doll, you're so fuckin' wet," he groaned as he began thrusting at a steady pace. The pleasure between her legs exploded almost immediately, and her head lolled back against the tile wall, desperate sounds of pleasure winding their way out of her throat. "Fuck yeah, this what you like baby? Is this what you want?" he huffed as his hips bounced against hers with a wet slapping noise. He spread her open so exquisitely, fully filling her to the brim and giving her a sensation of being stretched that was unmatched. No one else could make her feel like this. Yes she did like this, yes this is exactly what she wanted. At this angle he was grinding against her clit, and with a shriek she came again, her walls clenching down on his cock and her nails digging into his shoulder sinew. "Yes baby yes," His hips stuttered against hers, and he gave a final hard thrust as he spilled himself inside of her. "Oohhh fuckkk," He grunted and held them both there for a few minutes, both of them and trying to catch their breath.

And then he said, "Now, what was it you were sayin' about a bed?"

Michelle looked at him for a moment before she broke out into giggles - giggles like she was a fucking schoolgirl or something. She realized she was probably drunk on his presence; that was what she would chalk it up to. "You're insufferable." She shook her head, but couldn't help the smile on her face.

"I'll show you insufferable, baby," With that, he hoisted her up into his arms so they were no longer leaning against the wall in the bath, instead he was supporting them on his two legs with her in his arms. He leaned in to kiss her, his tongue lapping at hers as he stepped out of the bathtub with her in his arms, his large hands holding onto her thighs and ass to keep her elevated in his arms. She kissed him back with fervor, not caring about anything else at the moment. She just wanted to enjoy his presence like he was a normal man, and she was a normal woman. She knew it was hypocritical of her to be cursing his name one moment and (screaming it) kissing him the other, but right now she simply did not care. He'd made her come more than once tonight so far, and she knew he was bound to make her come plenty more times this evening. Heaven knew they had a long night ahead of them; she just wanted to relax and enjoy it without feeling guilty or angry at him, or herself. She was just too damn tired to keep up the act tonight. His presence had a way of doing that to her.

She felt a cool, hard surface under her backside, jumping a little at the unexpected contact, and when she opened her eyes she realized he had walked them into the kitchen and had placed her down on the counter top where he'd first cornered her.

"This is where it should have happened first."

The hair on the back of her beck rose, and she knew what was going to happen before it even did. "Eddie-" She was cut off by him leaning down and taking a ripe nipple into his mouth, lightly scraping his teeth across the hard bud. Much like before, she leaned her head back with a smack against her cabinets on the wall, a hiss of pleasure escaping through her teeth. She felt his calloused fingers trailing down her hips, over the tops of her thighs to slip between them, coaxing them further open. She anticipated the feel of those fingers on her core before it even happened - she was practically holding her breath in anticipation. At the first swipe of his fingers on her soaked cunt, dripping with their mixed fluids, it was like a zap of electricity that shot through her whole body. Despite him already just having made her come - a few times - every touch of his fingers felt brand new, like she was a virgin all over again, and he was going to he her first lover. Any other lover she'd ever had couldn't hold a candle to this man, and that was a fact.

She nearly jolted off of the countertop and onto the floor when she felt his lips replace his fingers, and a gasp came from her throat that she couldn't control. One of his hands reached up to fondle a breast while the other held her thigh open so he could better reach his target. He wasn't kidding when he said he was insufferable. He was literally eating her out on top of her kitchen counter. The surface underneath her was going to be disgusting tomorrow morning, covered with a mixture of water, her fluids, his cum and saliva. That thought came and went quickly though, as it was hard to focus on anything other than the immense pleasure she was feeling.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, hard, and her body jumped like she'd been zapped. She moaned loudly, the combination of his tongue and fingers and scruff of his beard making her so aroused. "Eddie..."

He rose from his place between her legs, his hands remaining on her hips. He kissed up her body until he got to her lips, and she could taste herself on his tongue, mixed with his own semen. Their mingled fluids were steadily soaking the countertop she was sitting on; she could feel the slick mixture between her thighs and under them. He was vile, but she would have been lying if she said that wasn't attractive to her. From him, at least. She would have never let anyone else do this to her; never let anyone else do half of the things they had done to each other.

Suddenly he pulled her up off of the counter, her backside sliding easily across the surface from the liquids pooling underneath her. She expected him to pick her up and carry her to the aforementioned bed. She was surprised again when he set her on her feet and turned her around so she was facing the counter and the cabinets, and she realized, at this moment, he wasn't quite done with her here yet. With one big hand on the middle of her back, he pushed her facedown onto the wet surface, her heavy breasts mushing into the puddle of sticky liquid.

"Tell me you want it," came his lust shredded voice from above and behind her.

Had she more will to withstand his power, maybe she would have held out further. He was too strong; too good. And he knew he could break her into pieces. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted a stronger woman. Maybe he thought she was perfect just the way she was. Why did that thought sound so right, so good? Especially since it couldn't have been true; Eddie Blake had hundreds of women chasing him at all times. How did he do this to her? Why did he have this effect on her?

She gulped, but didn't say anything. The words were still caught in her throat, surprisingly enough. Even after all they had done so far, this was the part she was having trouble with. Because he was such a narcissist, he wanted her to tell him exactly how much she wanted him - as though he couldn't see her right here, naked and willing before him, dripping with water and sweat and various other juices. God damn him.

"Please, Eddie, cut the shit and just..."

He rubbed the tip of his cock against her entrance, already hard again. She highly doubted he was ever soft. He felt so good just brushing against her slit; she thought she would die if he didn't push himself inside of her.

"Just what, baby?"

She laid her forehead down on the cool surface she was bent over, and growled out, "Just fuck me, goddammit."

His laughter came from the same place that his voice had, somewhere above and behind her, His big hands grabbed hold of her hips, lining himself up with her entrance. "With pleasure." And then he entered her with one big shove. Immediately he began a rough, fast pace, his hips smacking hard against her backside and making a wet slapping noise of skin on skin in quick succession. One hand stayed on her hip while the other reached up and grabbed the back of her neck to keep her chest down on the countertop. Her chest made wet squeaking noises on the damp surface as her body forcefully rocked with each hard thrust. He wasn't holding back now.

"Is this what you like, bitch? Huh?" he ground out. This was the real Eddie Blake. Rough, not gentle or loving. A cold bastard. And god she loved it. All she could do was moan his name over and over and over. She felt herself getting closer with every earth shattering thrust. She knew her whole body would be sore tomorrow; knew there would be bruises everywhere. But she also knew it would be worth it.

"Eddddiiiiieeee," Her voice was jumbled from the forceful pounding her backside was taking by his hips, brutal and uncaring. Justified by his own proclamation in his constant state of self-righteousness. He was owed something by the world, according to him. And this was just him simply taking what he was due.

Her poor pussy ached, and she couldn't tell how many times she had come around his cock as he'd been pounding into her on her kitchen counter, but from the squelching noises where their bodies met and the rivulets of sticky liquid running down her legs, she knew it had been quite a few times.

"Who's fuckin' pussy is this?"

"Y- Yours," She sounded drugged, her words slurred.

"Who's?" The hand that had been on her hip smacked her ass cheek, hard. There would be a mark from that tomorrow, too.

"Yours, Eddie, it's yours." She felt heat rising once again, and she moaned, her fingers gripping the edges of the countertop she was being rutted against. She was a tough woman, she thought - she shouldn't enjoy being degraded like this.

"That's what I fuckin' thought." He said this with each hard thrust. That's. What I. Fuckin'. Thought.

Without warning, her orgasm overtook her, as the main railing into her was practically yelling: "Say my name, baby!"

"Eddie! Eddie!" she shrieked out, and he gave one last final shove into her with a shout as he came as well, his hot seed filling her womb once again.

Michelle was completely exhausted. She could hear Eddie behind her sounding none too lively himself as the two of them each tried to catch their breath. After what must have been a few minutes but felt like mere seconds, she felt herself being lifted up off of the countertop. Her legs were so tired and sore she didn't know if she could stand, but somehow she did. Her knees wobbled as the man behind her took her hand and turned her around, then led her towards the bedroom - her bedroom. She was too tired to protest as he opened the door and walked the small expanse of the room until he got to her bed. Lazily, he flopped down onto her mattress, and she couldn't even muster an eyeroll at the self satisfied grin on his lips. Everything was almost a blur at the moment, she was so tired. He pulled her down onto the bed with him, got her pillows situated, got them both snuggled under the covers, and she could feel sleep pulling at her as she laid against his warm skin.

Tonight, she would pretend. But just for tonight, she told herself as she drifted off into slumber.

"Damn, I missed you, doll." came his voice near her ear, also sleepy with satisfied lust.

She had missed him, too.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the Watchmen franchise or any of it's characters. Michelle is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Natural Born Sinner' by In This Moment. The above photos are from pinterest, and have links attached to the original posts.

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