#shits like a foot deep it feels like more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dickgraysonsbitch · 2 days

Text

MOTH TO A FLAME — DICK GRAYSON X JOURNALIST!READER

3.3k words | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open !

summary: your relationship with dick grayson was history two years ago. as of yesterday, you were (not so) happily engaged to another man, and your relationship with him was swoon-worthy, but it seems like it could crumble like a house of cards. so when your perfect ex comes back into your life for help on a case, will you go back to him like a moth to a flame?

you’re just a moth to a flame.

you were engaged. you knew this, this wasn’t new fucking information, and you were supposed to feel elated, on top of the world, like you were on cloud nine or some other shit people in love said—wait, no. you were in love with your fiancé, or at least you tried to be. he was sweet, and he looked good, with his fluffy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and lean figure. nerd hot. just your type, but why did it seem like as every day went on, you kept trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted?

you stretched your arms before lugging yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone to check your messages, which you assumed were the reason that your phone was buzzing so much that it was about to fall off your dresser.

PHOTOS NOTIFICATION: november, 2021, AMUSEMENT MILE THEME PARK. do you want to share this memory with DICKIEBIRD 💙?

you pressed your mouth into a line, reminiscing. that was probably the best time you’d ever had in your entire life. you, dick, wally and artemis, eating cotton candy and popcorn at an amusement park.

“one more bite of food and you’re going into carnival crime territory, wally,” you sing, your voice carrying its signature teasing lilt. “then i’m going to win, and you’ll have to pay for everything.”

“just make your stupid boyfriend pay, he’s the billionaire!” wally's disgruntled groan came from a foot behind you, were he was still struggling on his second milkshake. sucker.

dick threw an arm around your shoulder, spreading a hint of warmth over your torso. he was, as you liked to call him, your personal space heater. “hey, it’s the son of a billionaire. and i’d much rather see my super sexy girlfriend beat my best friend’s ass.”

artemis grinned, her phone ready to snap a picture of when wally would undisputedly hurl like a toddler who had eaten too many gerber puffs. “me too, so hurry up, wally.”

the memory of dick throwing up because of the amount of sugar he had consumed in the short span of three hours almost had you laughing out loud, with your fiancé in the bed right next to you. god, you were so pathetic.

“something funny?” his low voice was next to your ear, and you could almost feel his breath on your neck, but for some reason, you wanted to push him away.

your breath hitched, and the guilt crept into your heart again. you were in bed with your fiancé, and you were daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend, who probably forgot your existence. dick was charming, but even you knew that he had a steady stream of people on call to fuck. one of the plus sides to being the hottest person in blüdhaven, you guessed.

“uh, just checking the group chat. girl stuff, matt, you can’t see it.” your mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, and you quickly stood up and walked towards the shower, rapidly checking the group chat that you opened up your phone for. curse dick grayson and his beautiful blue eyes, which were obviously the only reason you stared that that picture for so long. not the lovesick look he had on his face when looking at you, and definitely not his flirty smile when you made eye contact with him. that would be crazy, right?

maybe you should finally open the group chat.

rue: so how’d your night go?? 😉

annie: i bet she’s so tired that she can’t even walkkk

charlie: ofc she can’t, it’s matt myers!! he’s so fine 😩😩

the conversation then devolved into a discussion of which of matt’s photoshoots was the ‘hottest’, which should’ve made any other, self respecting friend group shy away from the conversation, but never rue, annie and charlie. no, they said that matt was too ‘sexy’ to be quiet about, and it was like they were waiting for you to mess up just to take your place. the sad part was that you wouldn’t mind letting them.

you had met matt, ironically, at a wayne gala that you were covering post breakup with dick, which was the only way that you measured time nowadays. he was hot enough to be… a rebound, and you were okay with that, until he started hounding you for a date. one date, two dates, and suddenly, a year and a half later, you were engaged. the next step, obviously (in matt's words), was the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and living the rest of your days in your dream house. if it was so obvious, why did it make your stomach curdle like you had a flu? why did the idea of kids with matt, being bonded to him for life, make you want to toss your stupid ring at his face, pack your bags, and run? did he even know why your favorite color was dark blue? did matt myers know that the reason that the sapphire stone on your ring was because of dick grayson?

you glanced at your fiancé before looking at your phone and sighing. “matt, i'm going out for some fresh air.” your heart panged. maybe you should give matt some slack, because after all, he picked up the pieces of you after dick so abruptly left. maybe he was better than what you gave him credit for. maybe the two of you would work long term, and you could go the white picket fence with him. it couldn’t hurt. “wanna come with?”

“nah. get me some seaweed chips though, from erewhon. we ran out.” matt shot you a badly timed wink, which made you grimace, and in that moment, you realized a very disturbing fact. nobody could make your blood pump like dick grayson, and no matter who you were with, there would only be one man on your mind.

sighing, you quickly changed into a ratty hoodie and leggings, making sure you weren’t in some sort of nightmare dream that you weren’t able to get out of. because that was your dream, right? being engaged to an incredibly attractive, talented and kind person, and spending the rest of your life with him? you gave yourself a short pep talk in the mirror—“you are hot! everyone wants you! you are engaged!”—before slipping on your shoes and calculating the distance to blüdhaven’s nearest erewhon, which was an easy twenty minute walk away. maybe you could thank matt for the exercise that he was always hounding you to do.

step. step. step. your walk turned into the same banal rotation of the past year and a half of your life, always the same thing over and over, and the thought of what your life might have been like if you had just stayed clung in your mind like cobwebs. unwanted, unnecessary, but it made your heart ache just a little bit to get rid of them.

erewhon came faster than you expected it to, and you stepped inside, the chilly air hitting your face like a wall of ice, and you grabbed a basket, picking up those chips matt loved. he was safe. safe and comfortable, but why did safe and comfortable suddenly feel like boring and predictable?

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass of the door, yearning to see the bright eyed, excitable girl that existed only a few years ago, but all you saw was… you. drained, unhappy, a permanent frown on your face. you attempted a smile, pulling your mouth from both sides, but the result was only a mix of a grimace and a clown’s toothy grin. you couldn’t smile right either.

your phone pinged, and a blue heart showed up on your screen. you hadn’t texted him in two years, but the icon still made your heart flutter with anticipation, before your squashed it like a bug under a boot.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: hey smartie pants! i need to talk to u about something important. let’s meet at 0900 at lux?

you bit your lip. the pros of this: you could finally get closure. dick grayson was hard to get ahold of, but maybe this was your chance to ask him—why did the two of you not work? was it you? was it him? or was it his true first love, nightwing?

you: hey. does 0930 work? i’m out running errands right now.

a beat.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: yeah! miss u lots, btw. see you then!

two hours later, after you had dropped off matt’s life-sustaining seaweed chips for a disgruntled “thanks, babe” in return, you walked into lux, your favorite sweater and skirt combo clinging onto you like a second skin. you’d worn a different, light blue dress on instinct, but you quickly realized that the dress you had picked out was dick’s favorite, so it immediately out of the question. shame, it was a damn hot dress.

“hey!” you heard a cheery voice from behind you. he said your name like it came off easy, like you hadn’t been each other’s confidants once upon a time. he said your name the way you wished that you could say his, with no meaning attached behind it. “it’s been so long, and you look great!” his eyes flicked to the stone on your left hand ring finger, and you could swear that his face fell the smallest amount, but if he felt anything, he didn’t tell you.

you didn’t have the same self control that he did. his name fluttered off of your tongue like a prayer, like he was a god and your only chance at salvation. “dick… um… hi. yeah, you look great too, but i guess enough people tell you that on a daily basis.”

“well, i hope you’re getting complemented just as much. what, your fiancé not doing it for you anymore, or is that just a pretty rock?” he grinned, his dimples highlighted by the dim light in the club. you suddenly kicked yourself for even showing up. how could he read you like a book by only looking at you for a minute or two, max?

your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest. “uh, i mean… i’m engaged. matt. that’s his name. matt myers.”

as if reading your mind, dick’s smile fell, and he placed a comforting hand on your forearm. “hey, i didn’t mean anything by the pretty rock comment, okay? don’t stress, i’m not here to seduce you.” oh, dick. what you’d give for him to say the opposite. “i’m actually here about a case. not bruce related, by the way. my usual case partner on this one is having a little trouble, so i thought…” he shrugged, because telling you that you were a backup didn’t break his heart, not like being on the receiving end broke yours. it wasn’t a shatter, just a tiny crack to the ones that he’d been adding all this time.

“yeah, i can help you out. what’s up?” you tried to seem nonchalant, but maybe the pain seeped through your voice. you wouldn’t count it against your terrible emotional regulation skills, but a small part of you was itching to help—to get back into the routine that truly sparked fire in you, instead of the rabbit food conversations that had matt jumping around like it was Christmas.

dick pulled out a variety of manila folders, labeled with a variety of female names on them, and a type of flower. he pinched three different photos of the victims, you were assuming, who were mauled and then arranged into neat shapes, with their hands crossed over their chest like mummies, and a clean, crisp white flower placed on top of them. the flowers were all different species’, you noted, with some including a white rose, a white poppy, and a white petunia.

“what do you have so far?” your voice came off far too eager, far too fast and far too interested. no, this was a favor he was coming to you for, so why did it feel like you were a caged bird that could finally sing, stretch it’s wings and soar into the sky without inhibitions? dick pressed his lips together, running a hand though his tousled, raven hair. god, what you’d give to have the chance to do that one more time. maybe dick was right when he broke up with you, because if you couldn’t even control yourself when you had a fiancé, how did he know that you could handle being with him?

he hesitated—it was evident in the way that he froze before trying to say something again. perhaps he was also thinking about the other times that you helped him with his cases, spending late nights poring over pictures and elaborate pictures, only to end up watching the real housewives of beverly hills instead. or maybe he was rethinking, questioning, even, why he had even involved you in the first place. you wouldn’t hold it against him; you’d always been too interested for your own good.

“close to nothing. no prints, no dna, just these flowers, whatever they mean. i wanted to know if you could reach out to shy of your sources—see if they know anything. they’ve been helpful before.” his voice sounded tired, not the usual, cheery voice he pasted onto himself. it made you feel a bit better, if you could call it that, that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be the golden wayne child in front of you. or maybe you were delusional in your belief that he’d even let his facade drop.

you bit your lip, and twisted the dark blue engagement ring on your finger absentmindedly. “is this a nightwing problem, or an officer grayson problem? because that makes a difference in which sources i use.”

dick grinned, and you were mostly sure that it was genuine, with a flash of teeth distracting you from the issue at hand (which was more like the issue on your left hand ring finger) but dick had always had that effect on you. “thinking about breaking the law, future mrs gr—future pulitzer prize winner? to answer your question, if you think about it,” he started, “it’s a both problem.” his face fell, and the wide smile that was there moments ago disappeared so fast that you almost thought that you imagined it. “they’ve started personally targeting people in my family. cass and damian both noticed a tail when they were walking out in the city, and i would be worried if they weren’t, you know, the deadliest people in gotham, but if anything happened to them, i don’t know if i'd be able to forgive myself. or worse, alfred…”

the look on his face is anguished, as if he’s imagining a lifetime of pain being inflicted on his family, and you know that he’s rather take it himself than let anything happen to them. “dick, don’t worry, okay? alfred is probably more dangerous than anyone in your family combined, and i say that after i've met cass and steph. nothing’s going to happen to them. we’re going to find this psycho, then we’re going to get justice for the victims and their families.” you reach out to touch his arm, but the moment your skin makes contact with his, you pull back like his forearm was on fire.

nodding, he looks back up at you, his eyes filled with an admiration you haven’t seen in quite a while. “yeah, i’m overreacting, right? and it’s not like they won’t be able to defend themselves. cass could probably kick my ass on one of her bad days.” he shudders. “she’s awesome and all, but scary as hell.”

you laugh, finally at ease, not on edge about what you’re saying or about to do. “yeah, well, clearly you’ve never seen her in the same room as a full english breakfast. i remember this one time that she came over to our apartment after patrol, and this was at three o’clock in the morning, okay? she walks in, starts getting the eggs out of our fridge…” your eyes catch a glimpse at dick’s face. he’s smiling, his face satiated and truly… happy. how long has it been since you looked like that? the earlier morning comes into your mind, and you stammer, recollecting how you looked in the glass of the fridge at the store. like a broken woman rather than the girl that you used to be.

now it’s dick’s turn to take your hand into his, and rub it gently, the way that he always used to do when you were nervous before taking one of your tests in university, or when you utterly messed up cooking dinner. it meant that he was here for you, that he would be there no matter what, but a small part of your brain wanted to question him nonetheless; if he had left you before, he would leave you again. that was the rule, the past precedent that he had kept for himself, and if he had wanted to stay, he would’ve.

his thumb brushes over your engagement ring, the one that you and forgotten even existed and now felt heavier on your finger than a ton of bricks, the one that your fiancé had given to you as a token of trust. you couldn’t break the one promise you had left, but clearly, dick must have been thinking the same thing. he pulled his hand away the moment he touched the ring, and looked at you with a guilty expression. “so… how long have you guys been…”

“last night.” you said, not an ounce of warmth in your voice. there never was, when it came to matt. it was more like a dry tone of obligation than anything else.

dick’s eyes widened, shame seeping into his expression. “i'm so sorry, sw—i mean, you shouldn’t be here on your engagement day. we can talk some other time, or i can send you—”

“if i didn’t want to be here, dick, i wouldn’t be.”

“good to know.” he smiled, before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. “hey, i have to go. we’ll keep in touch, alright?” he stands up, about to lean in for a hug, but you stick your arm out, ready to shake his hand. cold and impersonal, but it wasn’t like you were doing a good job of that in the first place.

the two of you settle for a half hug-half handshake combination, somehow making the situation more awkward than it already was. he send you a crooked grin, and it cements itself in your brain, another blip of dick grayson in your grey life. maybe… maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all, and maybe you could rein in your emotions just to see a little more of him, his dark blue eyes haunting your dreams like an apparition. you could sacrifice that and so much more just to have his eyes in your life.

“see you later, right?” you smiled, the muscles in your face contracting in that direction for the first time in a few weeks, perhaps. oh, the things that he did to your poor heart. he waved, mouthing a quick bye to you before picking up a call on his phone, and you could hear a stern ‘jason’ before he vanished, out of earshot, out of sight, but not out of your mind.

you started on your path back home, deciding against taking a taxi when the fares would be the highest. maybe it was just an eerie coincidence on your part, but you swore that there was something behind you, a pair of eyes tracking your every move. you would have cast it aside as paranoia, but it was sending a creeping shiver up your spine, terrifying you to your very bones. perhaps that is what happens when one works on a murder case.

you brushed it off, but the feeling of eyes on your back did not dissipate.

ooh spooky right? does anyone fancy a part two for this one or nah?

303 notes · View notes

jkbunny2001 · 19 hours

Text

HASBIN HOTEL: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Genre: Lucifer adoring his precious little duckie

Rating: 21+

Summary: You’ve been feeling like you shouldn’t be with Lucifer due to public eye, thinking you’re not enough. Lucifer proves you wrong

Warnings: dom!lucifer, daddy k!nk, edging, orgasm denial, sub space, fingering, eating out, blowjob, demon forms, slight ch!king kink

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

It was hard for you to not be in Hell’s public eye. Dating the Lord of Hell kinda makes you in the media’s camera line. Not that you minded really, you were just happy to be with him and Charlie when needed. You manifested into Hell a couple of years before Charlie was born, and with her mother leaving, she viewed you as a sort of “motherly” figured for lack of a better word.

However, with the fame, comes the drama. Recently, tabloids have been running all throughout Hell about how you even got to be with Lucifer in the first place. At first, you believed it to be just the random gossip of the week. But, after a while it started to stick.

Main headlines read, ‘Is this demon really suitable for the King of Hell?’, ‘Y/N… Hell’s next Queen? Or Tramp of the Week?’ Charlie kept telling you not to listen and that they had no idea what they were talking about. You asked her to not say anything to her father. He would light the reporter on fire for writing what they did.

As you walked around the mansion Lucifer lived in, you kept noticing the servants gossiping about things, but the minute you were in line of sight, they were quiet. You started to grow self conscious. You knew Lucifer loved you, there was no denying that.

But were you enough? You stared at yourself in the mirror of your master bedroom.. ‘is it my horns?’ You thought to yourself examining your own face and body. ‘My red skin? Are my boobs too small? Or.. is it because I’m not powerful enough?’ A million questions were rubbing through your head, you started to cry, tears running down your blood red face…

As your head was down, Lucifer walked into the room. “Hello my little duckie, what’s- are you crying?!” Lucifer was clearly worried and upset. Who made you cry? Who did he have to kill? You quickly wipe your face turning away from him. “Um.. no I’m okay! Just something in my eyes!” You tried to make an excuse know it probably wasn’t going to convince your boyfriend.

Lucifer placed his hand on your shoulder, turning your face towards him. You were about a foot shorter than he was, you always felt petite next to him…. but now you just felt small, in a bad way.. almost insignificant.

“Duckie what’s wrong?? Talk to me angel..” Lucifer held your face in his hands, him towering over you kissing your cheeks. His gentle affection started to make your cry more. His thumb caressed your check and you open up to him. “I’m sorry Luci… I’m sorry that I’m not enough.” That statement stung him. He was so pissed and yet hurt that anyone would make you even remotely think that.

“Shhhh… it’s okay my angel, don’t you ever think that again.” Lucifer held you close, kiss the top of your head as he stroked your hair. “Don’t listen to any of those shit talking idiots.. you are more than enough..” he kissed the side your cheeks, “you’re my beautiful angel..” he deeply kissed you wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your own around his neck, the kiss initiating some excited between the two of you.

Lucifer pulled away, slowly growing in his demon form, and looking you deep in the eyes, cause yours to slowly come out. “I’m gonna make you believe it.”

Almost immediately, he grabbed your thighs, making you cling to his body tighter, as he shoved his tongue into your mouth again. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, as he carried you to the edge on the bed, holding you down with his own weight, slowly rolling his hips against your own.

Lucifer started to get more aggressive, nibbling at your neck with his fangs. You moaned out loud, subconsciously clenching your legs together, only for them to be pulled apart forcefully my his hands. “You better keep those legs open for daddy..” he growled in your ear. Your body shivered with excitement, you loved his daddy kink because when it comes out, you know how the sex is going to be. Rough, intense, and fucking amazing.

As you both get more heated, your true forms slowly started to merge out quickly. Your horns started to wrap around your head and ears, your tail getting longer, wrapping itself around Lucifer’s leg tightly. By the time he was grinding down in you, Lucifer was already in his full form. He reached to your chest and start to rip your shirt with his nails. You felt the tiniest scrap of his claws on your chest, arching your back getting more excited that you let out a small moan.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Oh poor baby, the fun has just begun and you’re already so sensitive..” once your shirt was fully ripped, he snapped his fingers and a rope appeared in his hand. He levitated you to the best of the frame and tied your hands to the bed post, using the sides of your shirt to keep your arms in place.

Again, your legs clenched with anticipation and lust. Out came his snake like tongue, almost giving out a little hiss before he dove his head into your cunt. “OH FUCK!” you shouted in pleasure, feeling that tongue glide across your folds, Lucifer’s hands holding your legs apart.

“Good girl, scream for daddy..” he groaned licking deeper, his fangs scraping on the top of your clit. You throw your head back in pleasure, moaning his name like a mantra. “Fuck yes.. please!” Your tail wrapped around his arm, tightening the closer you were. “Please what baby girl? Tell daddy what you want..”

You sat up to look him in the eyes, “Please daddy.. I want more.. give me more..” you whimpered at the loss of feeling his tongue. Lucifer smirked as he pulled you further up on the bed. He started to undress his own clothes, a snap of his fingers made the shirt wrapped around your wrists disappear. Laying next to you, he flipped to you your hands and knees, putting you a 69 position.

You yelled at the sudden movement, but seeing how hard and big Lucifer was made your mind go blank. “Get to work, duckie.” You didn’t even hesitate in pleasuring your king. You swirled your tongue around his tip, licking from the slit around. He groaned in pleasure as he licked up your slit.

You moaned as you wrapped your lips around his tip, moving your head up and down. Hearing Lucifer groan in pleasure made you want to keep going, taking every inch of him. But it was a struggle when he continued to lick up your pussy, sticking a little bit of his forked tongue in you with every lick.

Lucifer loved to see his little baby struggle, taking every inch down your throat. He stopped licking to push your head down further, making you gag at the sudden push. “Fuck duckie, there you go. I know you can take it all in. Service daddy properly.” He smirked watching you slip into a sub space, your mind starting to go blank.

The reporters and headlines you were worrying about was long gone. All you could think about was Lucifer… your king, your daddy, your lover… and making sure he was satisfied. You relaxed your throat, taking Lucifer so deep, his balls were touching the tip of your nose.

“Fuuckk, good girl! Such a fucking good slut. You want daddy that badly? You want me to fuck your tight, little hole?” You moaned on him, trying to nod your head with him still reaching the back of your throat. Slowly you lift your head up, catching a breath. Lucifer kept you in that position before running his fingers across your folds.

“Shit, I might not even need lube baby.. you’re already so wet for me..” you moaned loud, feeling a finger slide inside. The top half of your red body was faced down into the sheets. How can one finger feel so good? Lucifer groaned at your face, tongue out, drool staining the sheet, your body twitching at the sudden intrusion at another finger being added.

Your tail curled around your leg, looking something to grip onto, feeling your body getting closer and closer to a release. It was very obvious to Lucifer, he knew your body more than you did. “Are you close angel? I barely touched you and you’re already so close.” He asked in a teasing way.

You could barely nod your head, you were so close, just tittering on the edge… then you feel nothing. You whimpered and whine, looking around you for your lover. “Be good..” Lucifer slapped your ass, making you through your head back in agonizing pleasure. “You cum when daddy tells you to cum.”

Your body shivers as you feel him line his cock at your pussy, leaning backwards to feel as much of it as you can. Only for it to result in another smack from his hand. “You don’t beg that way. Ask properly.” You gasps, your head feeling so light, you were saying things you normally would be so embarrassed to in the right state of mind.

“Fuck me daddy.. please, I want it!” You kept grinding back against him, earning you more slaps, leaving you dripping. “You want what? Say it properly!” “I want daddy’s cock in me, I want daddy to fuck my tight puss-AHHHH!” You screamed in pleasure as Lucifer stuffs his cock into your cunt.

“Fuck baby, always so fucking tight for me.” He growled, starting off fast and hard. Your body trembled in the please it was receiving. Your tongue hung from your mouth, babbling nonsense. All that came out was his name. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. DADDY! “Fuck me daddy! Fuck it feels so good! RIGHT THERE! FU-AHH DON’T STOP PLEASE! FUUCCKK!”

Both of your tails intertwined with each other, your claws digging into the sheet, while his threatened to break the skin on your hips. “Good fucking girl, that’s how you beg! Fuck you feel so good around Daddy, nice and fucking tight.” His eyes started to turn fully red, his climax coming too.

He grabbed your arms and pulled your body flushed against his, one hand holding your wrist behind your back, and the other around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “You gonna cum baby? You wanna cum with daddy?” He kept thrusting harder with every question.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, leaning back on Lucifer’s shoulder. You turn your head to him to say, “Yes please! I wanna cum! I wanna cum with daddy! Cum in me daddy please! I want it!!” your eyes turning red, feeling that same knot in your stomach come undone.

He growled, shoving his tongue in your mouth, kissing with sloppily. Lucifer’s thrusts started to get more and more erratic, chasing both of your highs. “You fucking slut, cum for daddy. Do it now!” You both moaned into the kiss, you almost screamed from the release. You squirted all over his cock, as he pumped his seed so far into you that it leaked out onto your thighs.

Your body went limp against Lucifer. Twitching from the shock of the pleasure he gave you. He groaned as he slowly pulled out and laid you on the bed. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed a warm towel, cleaning every part of your body.

You looked at him with loving eyes, thankful that he takes the extra measure. Lucifer climbed under the covers with, holding your body close and he stroked your hair. “Did I prove it to you?” He smirked, looking down at your body. You giggled back holding he cheek.

“You prove them wrong.”

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #fem reader #lucifer x reader #smutty smut smut #smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #fanfic #21+ only

44 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 3 days

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 26: Seven Devils All Around

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: When you arrive at your apartment, you notice that the door isn't locked. You make the mistake of entering without calling the police first, and you pay dearly for your recklessness.

Warnings: ANGST, blood, violence, break-in, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: It took me a while to get this done because I just wasn't happy with it, but I finally got it done. We're starting to get knee-deep into the next angst arc, so I hope you're prepared for some tension, twists, and turns!

The view behind the windshield blurs through your tears as you navigate the streets of Dublin, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white.

You push your foot down on the gas. You want to go home, but you also don’t. Your apartment hasn’t felt like home in a very long time. After meeting Michael, and everything was still somewhat okay, he became your home, but even that seems like a distant feeling now. Your feelings toward him haven’t changed, of course, but the pile of shit you have to deal with keeps getting bigger, and you can’t catch up. You don’t know what to do. The helplessness adds to the pain of being in love—of worrying about the man you love and the family he was born into who seems to only want the worst for you and him—and that makes feeling at home a sheer impossibility.

The motor of your car roars, but you keep going at a speed that might cost you your license until you pull into the dark street of your neighborhood and finally manage to park the car before you break down.

Your sobs echo through the small space. Every hiccuped intake of oxygen rumbles in your chest, burning through every quarter of your lungs. It’s getting significantly harder to breathe.

Leaving was a spur-of-the-moment decision that seemed right at the time. You had to leave. You were drowning, but the hand Michael offered was too far away and too high up to reach. Miles stretched between you; if you had tried swimming toward him, you would have never reached the end alive. You had to save yourself.

Leaving was the right thing to do—at least that is what you kept telling yourself on the drive home. Now, though, you're starting to question what you were thinking, breaking apart at the seams after desperately clinging to a life buoy of paper.

You used to be such a rational person. Perhaps it was the constant ignorance of reality—the lying to yourself and pretending all was well—that made everything easier. You became complicit with your trauma’s need to forget everything and move on because facing the truth was just too painful, and you tried telling yourself that you could barely remember most of it, anyway. The things you could remember, you swore to take care of once you had it figured out, but that was a foolish lie you concocted for the sake of your peace of mind.

After meeting Michael, reality only started seeping in again. Because his reality and your reality have both turned out to be brutal in their essence. Though after all this time of pretending and being eaten alive by the things you knew and couldn’t share—didn’t want to share, even because you knew the consequences could cause your entire life to fall apart—reality has become a weight you forgot how to carry. Now, your world is falling apart anyway, and there seems to be no way out.

You knew this would happen, but you didn’t want to face the truth. That is the problem. And that is, you think, on you entirely. You should have been more careful, knowing your delusions would become your downfall eventually.

And you can’t blame Michael, no matter how badly you want to. You can’t hate or degrade him, not even in your mind. He was worried, he was upset, and he was angry because he had to find out that even after trying so hard to stay on the straight and narrow, his chances of getting custody of his daughter would remain lower than the deepest parts of the ocean. He ran against an invisible clock and still lost, even after making it on time. You tried to help him, and he tried to help himself, but your attempts were futile. Now, after everything, he is scared of losing you, too.

He gave you one condition; stay home and don’t do anything stupid. You couldn’t even do that, and the worry made his fuses blow. That’s not his fault.

You don’t know why you did it. The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you alone, and you acted on your feelings rather than common sense. You were angry at the world; Frank coming over and confronting you with the pictures that weigh heavy in the pocket of your jeans was merely your last straw in a game you felt like you were going to lose right this second if you didn’t do something other than sit around and wait.

You faced your fears today and hated what you saw. You couldn’t stay, not when your lives are starting to pull you in different directions. Sticking together is a dangerous game, one you no longer know how to play without either one of you—or those around you—getting burned. You’re no good for each other, especially not now, and maybe you have never been.

You couldn’t stay, but right now, crying alone in your car as you’re falling apart, you can’t help but wish Michael was there to hold you through the earthquake that takes you under.

Pushing people away is your defense mechanism as much as it is Michael’s. You should never have let him this close in the first place, knowing the past you’ve been hiding from the world. You were so focused on yourself, playing down the risk behind it that you turned yourself into a fool.

You can put a butterfly bandage on his forehead; you can love him, and you can accept the love he can give you, but none of that will fix something that has been broken from the start. None of that can fix your broken family or bring your sister back to you.

Love, bandages, not even a nail could solve the issue you have been grappling with for years, and it won’t magically condemn your father to a lifetime of torture like the one he subjected you to. Saving yourself comes at a cost, and sometimes the leftover debt becomes too high to pay with an empty bank account. What do you do then? What do you do if you don’t have the means to pay the cost, not even to fight?

You slam the car door, locking it with the press of a button. You’re not thinking straight, you try telling yourself, but your body has a mind of its own.

The stairs leading up to your apartment creak under your footsteps. You take two at a time. Last-minute flights are more expensive, but you have some emergency cash stashed away in your wallet; that should be enough to pay for a flight to London. This is wrong. This is beyond reckless, and if Michael knew, he would move mountains to make sure you would never make it to the airport without opening your eyes and rethinking your decision, but it’s not rationality that drives you.

Every time you breathe, the hourglass loses another grain of sand. Every time you move without a purpose or care, another second is wasted into oblivion. You can’t run fast enough, but you have to try.

Hot tears continue to stream down your cheeks, staining your skin with a mixture of sweat and salt. When you finally reach your floor, you search for the right key on your chain with shaky fingers. It has to be somewhere.

You approach the lock. When you left, you locked it. You know you did. You wrote a note in your phone, just in case you were to wonder if you turned off all appliances and locked the door on your way out. You can never be too careful. Michael’s family plays a huge part in your newfound care. It’s no secret that monsters are no longer just lurking in the dark shadows of an alleyway or under your bed. They are in your head and the people around you, and they are even part of your family—your own flesh and blood. Monsters are everywhere but in the places you expect them to be.

You insert the key, and you stop breathing. The door budges under your touch. You locked the door when you left. You closed it. All windows are shut, and one of your neighbors would have noticed if you had accidentally left one open. They would have called you about any suspicious activity because the old lady in the apartment above yours likes to watch. You’re certain you took the necessary precautions, and yet you push against the wood once, and your door opens completely.

Your ribs are starting to hurt from how hard your heart is pounding against the sturdy bone. “What the—” you mutter under your breath. It’s a warning sign you expertly ignore.

Anyone else would have called the police at the first sign of foul play, but you can’t bring yourself to pull out your phone. If someone played with the lock, or if someone broke into your apartment, there are many things they could have taken, and you have never felt so sick to the pit of your stomach—not even when you were beaten senseless or had to confess to your father that you got a bad mark on a test, knowing he would make sure the injuries no one could see would hurt a few days longer, perhaps even scar so you could never forget what he did to you. But even without the scars, the memories are fresher than daisies on a spring morning.

The floorboards creak. Blood rushes to your cheeks. You reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around the small bottle of pepper spray you ordered online one night after a few glasses of wine and a scary encounter with a stranger on your way home from work in the dead of winter. You clutch the small bottle so tightly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you end up spraying yourself.

The silence is deafeningly loud. It screams into your ear. You’re met not with darkness but with a faint string of light streaming into the hallway from the direction of your living room. You should call the police, you really should, but you don’t. Instead, you breach the doorway and step inside.

Documents line the floor like a thin carpet. Some pieces are torn while others are still held together neatly in the corners by fragile paper clips.

You swallow. After Michael accidentally found the file in one of your drawers, you learned from your mistake and hid them somewhere they couldn’t be found. You thought you did because, between the two of you, you are the only ones aware that it even exists. You tried everything to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but nothing could have prepared you for this.

The blood freezes in your veins. Your hands run cold. Your desk is tipped over, and your couch has been ripped apart at the seams, probably by a sharp blade that cut into the fabric to check the filling inside. You don’t keep any money in the apartment, but the paper trail tells you instantly that whoever did this was not looking for valuables.

Only a handful of people would profit from that file: those who want to hurt you, and the one person who would take it to protect himself—the Kinsellas and your father.

Tears spring to your eyes. The fear that spreads through your body at a speed faster than lighting works as a paralytic. Your father isn’t a criminal mastermind, but he’s ruthless and who knows what he would do if he found out what you are doing behind his back. He wouldn’t just let out all of his anger and frustration on you, he would kill you. If only he knew what you were doing, he would make sure another gravestone would be added next to Ellie’s. He is that kind of person, but not the kind of person powerful enough to orchestrate this. At least that is what you would have believed a few days ago. Now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe.

The Devil likes to hide in plain sight.

You can only stare and pray to the heavens above that you’re just dreaming. That this isn’t real. That you’re not standing in ruins. You were so careful…

Again, the floorboards creak, but you didn’t take a step this time. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your skull burns as though someone is glaring daggers into the bone. You can feel another presence in the room, breathing down your neck. Your thumb brushes over the trigger.

The light switch on the other end of the room cracks under the weight of a heavy fist. This is it, you think. You’re going to die. But—and even if it’s just for a moment, it still crosses your mind—maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Your ragged breaths break the silence in the sudden darkness. Without warning, a pair of strong arms wraps around you from behind. You cry out, but a gloved hand finds its way over your parted lips. The taste of the leather makes you gag.

Fear takes over in a storm, but your mind refuses to let you curl up and die. You throw your head back, arms flailing as you scratch at his forearms. DNA is crucial, and no matter what happens, you must fight back.

You fight back with every ounce of strength left, but it's like struggling against a force of nature. The masked man is relentless as he crushes you against the wall.

With a deafening crash, the wooden shelf next to the still-open front door topples over as he backs against it with you pressed to his sturdy chest, sending shards of glass and ceramic crashing to the ground.

The pain explodes like a dirty bomb at the side of your skull. He smashes you against the bricks that hide behind the white wallpaper you chose not to paint over after moving here. In the darkness, you can’t see the crimson stain that forms underneath, but the shadow glistens in the moonlight.

You hit the floor hard, the man tossing you to the floorboards. The impact pushes all the air from your lungs. You gasp, and it burns, but you can’t get the oxygen back where it needs to.

Desperation claws at your throat as you reach out, grasping for anything to defend yourself. You are okay with dying, but not without putting up a fight. And is the easy way out really what you want to take to your grave after making it so far? You doubt that. Survival moves to the forefront of your mind. Before you can even muster a coherent thought, the masked stranger is on you again, hands locking around your throat.

You choke, trying to pry him away, but it’s useless. You kick your feet up and forward, desperate for air, and finally knock him off balance. With a growl of frustration, he releases his hold on you.

In the dim moonlight, you catch a glint of porcelain on the floor next to the scattered shelf. It’s the vase that held the flowers Michael gave you on your first date. You didn’t throw them away when they started to wither because you wanted to hold onto that sliver of happiness for a little longer. The sharp piece scratches the inside of your palm, but you continue to reach for it, your teeth gritted as you struggle against your attacker. Eventually, your fingers wrap around the sharp edges, and you try to jab it into his bicep.

The man leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. “Just stop…fuckin’ fighting,” he hisses. You don’t recognize his voice. It doesn’t even cross your mind to try and do so; your only motivation is to get out.

He catches the shard before you can hurt him though. You half-expected him to keep choking you until you pass out or die. Instead, he turns your makeshift weapon around on you.

Time slows to a crawl. With a primal scream of defiance, you lunge forward, trying to get it back. Yet, it's too late.

The glass pierces your flesh, tearing a gash into your side. The pain knocks the remaining air right out of your lungs. You can’t scream. You can’t cry.

Blood wells up against your skin. With a final, vicious twist of the glass, the stranger wrenches the shard free from your body. The walls start caving in. You’re trapped in a box, and the water is rising in your lungs.

The floorboards from the apartment above that make up your ceiling start to creak, and the man sits back on his heels, chin tilted up. He curses under his breath.

You try to catch a glimpse of his face, but the darkness is overwhelming. Again, the floorboards above creak. You want to beg for mercy, maybe even scream for help, but nothing wants to come out.

The weight on your chest disappears. Your eyes flutter, but you force them to stay open, patting along your trousers. Where is your phone? You hope to God you didn’t leave it in the car. You should have called the police. You should have…

It was foolish to think you would stand a chance against an intruder with a mere bottle of pepper spray. It seems as though he was trained for this very moment. He destroyed your apartment, and now he is reaching for what you were trying to preserve. You don’t know who he is, but he seems to know exactly where to find your little secret, and that makes you sick. The pain makes you sick.

How did he know?

Through blurry eyes, you see the masked figure playing with the file in his hand. He passes by you, the mask moving where he’s smirking.

“No,” you choke out. “Please…”

He sighs a condescending breath. “Little girls shouldn’t stick their noses into issues that don’t concern them.”

‘What does that even mean?’ you want to scream back at him, but the only sound that passes your lips is a gurgled moan as the tip of his steel boot starts to dig into the wound on your side.

You reach for him, but he disappears as soon as the light outside turns on and the stairs creak under the weight of your upstairs neighbor—the old lady who once introduced herself as Lilian after you helped her carry her groceries.

The invisible noose around your neck tightens. You haven’t been this scared in a very long time. If you’d stayed; if you and Michael had talked it out, and if you’d tried to be more rational instead of letting your heart take over, this wouldn’t have happened.

You fumble for your phone, your fingers slick with your blood. They tremble against the surface of the screen, leaving crimson fingerprints behind. The screen doubles and distorts before your eyes, the numbers dancing mockingly out of reach.

You manage to hit the speed dial for Michael—yes, him, not the police, and that little voice in your head is baffled that you continue making such bad decisions. Your voice is a hoarse whisper as you plead, “Please pick up, please pick up, please…” But there's no answer.

Panic claws at your chest. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor beside you, into a pool of blood and the remaining shards of the vase.

Lilian calls out from the other side of the door, her footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

With a last, desperate surge of strength, you reach out, fingers brushing against the cold floor. “Help,” you croak. Your head pounds. It sounds as though you’re screaming.

The door doesn’t budge. Didn’t she hear you? You press the call button again, desperate, but again, Michael doesn’t pick up. You can’t hold your eyes open much longer. You can’t…

The world spins dizzily around you, the darkness threatening to claim you and drag you toward the light.

You sob, reaching for the throbbing wound in your side. It’s time to accept it for what it is, you figure. Lilian pounds on the door, but the sound is starting to fade as your heartbeat pounds harder and faster against your ribcage and your throat, trying to catch up. You realize it won’t. Not in time. Your heart will grow weak soon.

You’re unsure how long you lie there, floating in a weird middle space between consciousness and a depth you have never been in before. You dip in your toes, but it won’t quite accept you just yet. You want to jump in. You want to learn to swim, even if you have to drown first. The pressure is taking you under. God, you want it to end. It’s too much, and you hate that you can’t do anything.

Denial works until it doesn’t.

The door breaks off its hinges. It couldn’t have been Lilian. You feel a hand on your cheek, and the man it belongs to slaps your skin rather roughly. Your eyes flutter open, weak and sensitive to the light.

The old lady must have alerted your other neighbors. Their voices overlap, grow louder, and then disappear. You can only hear your racing heartbeat in your throat.

Someone applies pressure to your wound, and you cry out. At least you think you do. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the man’s arm. He’s looking at you softly, trying to keep your attention on him, but it’s not him you care about.

Michael.

It comes out as gibberish.

“Save your strength,” your neighbor says. “Help is on the way.”

But you fear that the help he mentioned might not make it on time as your eyes close and you decide to succumb to the darkness. You put up enough of a fight for one day. You’re tired, and so you decide to let your eyelids flutter shut and fall into blissful oblivion.

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @ebathory997

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella #kin amc #kin rte #michael kinsella angst #x reader #charlie cox #chaos theory

26 notes · View notes

squid--inc · 3 months

Text

bout to join the war on snow on the side of snow, motherfucker, it will not fuckin stop

#shits like a foot deep it feels like more #i normally have a rule that I don't shovel if it's still snowing‚ but legit couldn't open the gate to take my dog for a walk it was thick #and when i finished‚ daisy‚ who usually loves snow‚ fucking tooo one look out the open gate and went right back to the door #the snow piles from previous snows are about waist height on my right now and I'm 5'9 #like‚ it's been mild all winter‚ so this was kinda expected‚ but wtf #if this place starts flooding I'm just laying down to die. i have so much tech in my room

1 note · View note

unusualshrimp · 2 years

Text

theres just something about reckless scientists and their ride or die partners thats just somehow trans and aro and gay all at once. cant explain but u get me

#WAUGH it's like. unconditional devotion to science is inherently aro to me #and like. the deep bonding with someone over this because youre both deranged <3 #but also the. the becoming something else? i feel like put my foot in my mouth trying to explain this part so i wont even try #but YOU GET IT RIGHT #me looking at a pair of mad scientists: they dont give a shit about 'love' theyre having gay sex theyre in a qpr #they did gender affirming surgery on each other they dont care about most things they care about everything more deeply than other people #nothing matters more to them than the pursuit of knowledge nothing matters more to them than each other. etc #hope this helps

61 notes · View notes

ceilidho · 10 months

Text

prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

The job comes at the exact right time.

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go.

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself.

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender.

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours.

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave.

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice.

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss.

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic.

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss.

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost.

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest.

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile.

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation.

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.”

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ceil writing #house cleaner au

8K notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 6 months

Text

FIRE HYDRANT • portgas d. ace

ace loves his little squirter, perhaps a bit too much.

content + themes: firefighter!ace, firefighter!reader, choking, hate fucking, heavy squirting, he’s such a mean dom in this, mentions of oral sex, daddy is used, finger sucking, slapping, pet names are used (my love, babygirl, sweetheart), calls reader slut, missionary/mating press

📝: just a lil something to help me get my steam back. If it’s bad, you never saw it.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

“Okay, okayyyy…take some outtt..fuck!”

“Don’t be stupid, now move your hand before I do it for you.”

he was relentless and had been for the past couple hours or so..it seemed like he had no intention of doing so anytime soon either. Perhaps this time around..your big ass mouth had bit off far more than you could ever chew. Hence why at the moment..he was fish hooking his fingers in the sides of your jaws. Prompting you to suck on them as a means to shut you up. Feeding you a light tap to the cheek to ensure so as well.

“Rookie..how many times do I have to say it, huh? You don’t run a damn thing. It’s been what..four? Five? Hell, I’ve lost count how many times you’ve come on this dick. It’s like you can’t get enough of me, my love. I already knew that much though.”

the words tearing through you like a serrated dagger, slowly but surely cutting you up. A reminder of your weak resolve. You hated it, you hated it so fucking much that the one man you despised got you wetter than any boyfriend or partner you’d ever encountered. That this bastard knew your body far better than you did sometimes. He could do things that you’d never even imagined..taking you to heights unknown and yet, all you could do was stare at him in disgust as his cock plunged within your center repeatedly. Slamming balls deep as they smacked against your puckering asshole; drenched in your sticky mixture from drumming it out of you. It was just as he said, you had come for him for about the seventh time now. Running on fumes and pure spite to keep going. Maybe you wanted to prove him wrong that you could take whatever he threw your way, including the dick.

“Haaaah!—shit! Not right there..I’m gonna—“

“I know, babygirl. I know you are so why fight it? Squirt on daddy’s dick. Feels much better than arguing with me, doesn’t it?”

or..you loved the way he fucked you and your pride wouldn’t allow you to admit it! It would explain the large puddle formed underneath the towels on his couch and the splashes surrounding his foot; the other planted next to you so that he could truly get in it the way he wanted. And here you were..in the last position you wanted to be! Folded like a goddamn pretzel with your toes wiggling behind your head and this asshole hovering over you with that same stupid grin on his face, those deep set eyes and his necklace dangling in front of your nose. He was enjoying this. Enjoying turning his stubborn little rookie into his personal fire hydrant. The tight, juicy grip of that cunt embracing him like a warm hug..tinting his tan hued shaft with a sheet of white essence before exploding into the sweet, delicious rain as he made you squirt yet again. He’d never had pussy like it and it was for that reason alone, he put up with your bad attitude or rather, calmed it down.

“Nnggghhh!..I can’t..” your words were barely even making it above a decibel. A lot more quiet than the shouting you did at him when you first arrived. Pissed off about your inspection results earlier in the day. Granted, that was before he hissed at you to sit down, shut the fuck up and be a good slut for him..before he snatched your sundress down to reveal those plump tits and sucked on those gorgeous brown nipples that go so erect for him as he fingered you. And well before pinned your legs back and damn near sucked the flavor from your pussy! Using those nimble fingers to get you to climax..it was then that he discovered your little secret:

“Ahhh..so you’re a squirter, rookie? Well that’s good to know.”

and hadn’t stopped exploring it since. So for the duration of your stay, he’d been stretching that pussy out and using you to his heart's desire. Pulling on your hair, smacking on that fat ass as he gave you vicious backshots. Even tossing the pillow out of your way so you had zero comfort. His punishment for waking him up. Using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve, making you eat him up until you made a mess, calling him daddy after rewarding you with a warm nut to the back of your throat and after that, the fun really began. He’d kept you like this..drawing out orgasm after orgasm; streams of clear juices reaching as far up to his chest. Pulling out, tapping that mushroom tip against your slit to coax out another right after. He was having too much fun!

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t even keep her eyes open. Too bad for you..”

suddenly, you’d feel the hard clutch of his digits around your throat which prompted you to gasp for air whilst clawing at his forearm. Zeroing in on your face, he’d hiss through gritted teeth and smile before slamming your head back down: “we’re not done, so wake that ass up. ‘M gonna beat that little pussy of yours so sore, you’ll be lucky if you can crawl out of here when I’m done. Gonna fuck you until you’re empty, baby..”

and something told you, that wouldn’t be anytime soon!

5K notes · View notes

jaebeomsbitch · 7 months

Text

The Princess and Eggplant (E.M.)

Summary: Your boyfriend happens to be a foot taller than you...or Eddie is afraid to stick it all the way in, afraid to hurt you

Warnings: Minors DNI, size kink, pure smut

Pairings: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

A/N: watching Sex and the City and couldn’t stop thinking about the size difference between Carrie and Aidan. As a 5'1 they/them I'm drooling. Literally finished this a while ago but couldn't find a good gif, I'm gonna start making my own banners

Like Eddie holding you up, your thighs wrapped around his waist, his big hands on your ass. His tongue in your mouth as he kisses you more and more aggressively until you can’t breath and your head is spinning. The way he manhandles you, impaling his thick cock inside you as he grits his teeth trying to control himself from being too rough. But his cock only fits half way and you’re clinging onto his shoulders moaning like a ghost in a haunted house.

You heave for air as his cock knocks the wind out of you. He lays you out on the bed, your hair fanning out as he yanks you to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck sweetheart” he groans looking at the way his cock disappears inside of you. His neck straining as he holds himself back.

“More Eddie, fuck give me more” you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

“S-shit baby, don’t wanna hurt you” he grunts, slowly pulling out and back halfway in. As he refuses to go deeper, his eyes already rolling back as your tight velvet walls grip onto him.

“Please Eddie” you whine, pressing the heels of your feet into his ass forcing him deeper into you. Your jaw slacks as you’re stretched open by your boyfriend.

“S-shit s-so fucking big” you moan pressing your chest into his.

“F-fuck you’re gonna kill me” he groans voice higher pitched then normal. He hisses, teeth clenched tightly as he tries to remain still. However you don’t give him the chance, you dig your feet deeper into his pale ass. Pushing him inch by inch slowly into you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Eddie knows that he needs to be the one to slow down, but it's hard when you feel this good - especially when you're moaning like that. He hasn’t even moved and yet you’re already cock drunk. You’re drooling and moaning incoherently as Eddie’s cock fits like a puzzle piece inside you, nice and deep.your pussy struggles to accommodate the stretch. Your walls pulse around him almost like it’s trying to push Eddie out.

His arms shake as he shallowly thrusts into you, little grunts leaving his lips.

“Fuck Princess, so fucking tight” he whines.

“S-shit it’s like you’re fucking choking my cock” he grunts out, looking at the slight bulge in your lower stomach every time he slides back in. The sight is enough to make him cum right then and there.

“F-fuck fuck fuck ohhhh fuck” you moan underneath him trying to grind into him but his grip on your hips tightens. You know he’s gonna leave bruises on you but you fucking love it. Love that he’s practically whimpering “princess” under his breath like a broken record, like he needs to burn the feeling and imagine in his head.

“More, Eddie please-” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him desperately trying to drag him back in. He shakes his head vehemently, his jaw tight as he grinds his teeth. No girl could ever take his full cock before and much less someone so petite.

“So fucking perfect Princess. Your pussy’s taking me so fucking good. Fucking stretching out to fit my cock baby” he grunts out starting to lose his reserve. His hips move slightly faster as he feels the burn deep in his gut.

“Made f’you Eds” you nod, eyebrows pinched together as he pulls the rubber band tighter. You flex your stomach trying to keep it together. Your moans getting louder as his his resolve starts to slack more and more.

It isn’t long until he’s snapping his hips into yours looking like a man possessed. He’s fucking feral, hair wild, pupils blown out, neck flexed. His whole body is tense as he pounds into you fast and hard completely breaking you down.

You’re more than cock drunk at this point. Babbling gibberish, writhing under him, pulling at the sheets, your eyes closed shut as you’re in your own little world taking Eddie’s thick cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ” Eddie moans at the sight of you. Most girls would’ve cried in pain, he always needed at least an hour of stretching and foreplay to get half way in and yet here you are taking it.

“M’gonna cum!” You cry, stomach flexing harder, your muscles tightening almost painfully.

“Fuck- cum on my cock, Princess,” he pants, his balls slapping into your ass, hand pressing into your stomach feeling the bulge of his cock.

“Ohh fuck- fuck- fuckkk fuckkk” you all but scream as you let go. You tremble under Eddie’s body, face contorted, jaw slacked, drool dripping down your chin. It’s like you’re high and drunk at the same time.

“That’s it Princess milk my fucking cock. Taking me so well, begging for my fucking cum” he grunts. His eyes rolling back as he clenched his jaw and comes hard. Thick white ropes paint your velvet walls already dripping down to your ass. Your pussy too small to accommodate both his cock and cum.

“Shit” he heaves, slowly pulling out not trying to hurt you further.

“I’m not gonna be able to walk am I?” You groan as he nuzzles into your neck.

He chuckles,”probably not.”

“You’re the worst” you mumble lightly nipping his bottom lip.

“Not what you were yelling two seconds ago” he murmurs against your lips. That’s dimpled grin on his face as he presses for a kiss and another and another.

5K notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

11K notes · View notes

stevenose · 2 months

Text

disarm (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes

author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)

Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.

You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.

The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”

You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”

Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”

“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.

“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”

“I wish.”

He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.

But then it happens again.

Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.

“I think so.”

He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”

“Huh?”

“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”

He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.

And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.

One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.

“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.

When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”

He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”

“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.

He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”

You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”

Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”

Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.

Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.

“Will I?”

“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”

You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”

His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”

You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”

“I -“

You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”

You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.

You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.

Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”

You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.

“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.

“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”

You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”

You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”

“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”

You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”

“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“Wanna know what else is?”

Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.

“Well, it can’t be your brain.”

Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”

Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”

“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.

You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”

“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.

His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”

His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”

You look down. It is not.

But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.

Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.

You simply let him.

The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.

“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”

You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”

His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”

You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

“Like what?”

“Like, a shirt?”

Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”

As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.

It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.

You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.

“Steve?”

He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.

Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”

You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe.

“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”

Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”

“I know.”

You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”

You exhale shakily. “Steve….”

“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”

And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.

“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”

“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”

He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”

His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.

You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.

“Steve-“

“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”

Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”

“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”

He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”

You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”

“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.

“You remember when you’re sober?”

“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.

BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)

“See? Won’t forget.”

You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.

“Yeah? After you cum in it?”

Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”

#steve harrington smut #steve x reader #stevenose writes #ns/fw #robin tripped on purpose. btw

2K notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 1 month

Note

not really a james request (but please feel free to elaborate), but moving in with james and he's constantly manhandling you, you don't even think he realises it anymore

James has a bad habit of moving you around like you’re a ragdoll. It’s not like he’s hurting you or anything but he just is always able to move you about wherever and however he likes.

Like one time you were sitting on the bed and James had wanted a cuddle but you were being a little shit and squirming away from him every chance you got, and then he settled his hands on you firmly and the next thing you knew, he’s got you pressed up against him with your arms tucked tight to your sides.

There’s other things, like him moving you quick out of the road when there was a bit of foot traffic. Or pulling you to him in a pool right before Sirius canonballed into it.

Now, you’re in the kitchen rolling dumplings for a comforting meal you’ve been craving when James comes rushing in.

“Angel,” you squeal when he pulls you back into him; your hands hovering over the pot to drop some of the dumplings.

“Jamie, I’m cooking baby.” You giggle as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“I know but I miss you.” He sits you in the counter and takes the pot spoon from you, setting it on the counter and flicking the stove on low. “You realise you’ve been in here all day?”

“I know but I was making bread and cookies and now dinner, I’m almost finished Jamie. Promise.” You cup his cheek and lean in to kiss him which he indulges wholeheartedly.

“Alright, enough.” He says, checking the pot before throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to the sofa. “Right,” James arranges you on your back and spreads your legs only to slot himself between them.

He heaves a deep sigh, his whole body shaking as he hooks his hands around your thighs and pulls them around his body.

“You’re staying here and I’ll check on the pot in about ten minutes yeah?” You’re shocked silent, still not used to his easy display of strength.

James doesn’t quite seem to understand why you’re shocked silent and turns to look at you. “Angel? You hear me?” You nod, more than a little dazed and he chuckles as he realises why.

“Sorry baby, didn’t mean to manhandle you like that.” You glare at him and he laughs even more. “Okay maybe, but not enough to stun you silent like this.”

“Whatever you say, Potter. Don’t believe you in the slightest when those dimples are out.” It only gets deeper as he grins wider.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter headcanon #james potter x black reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

2K notes · View notes

f0point5 · 26 days

Note

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

1K notes · View notes

hanwiore · 9 months

Text

onyankapon x blackfemreader!

Genre: Sexy Hot Nasty Ass Smut

“Mmph!” Your eyes roll back as rough big hands held over your mouth, fingers sliding off the white clean sink and your thigh almost slipping off of it. Your foot that was on the floor and still in your pink marc jacob slides curl and grip on it. “Shut that shit up right now.” A slap was made to your ass cheek and you cry out through his spit covered fingers. Your back was arched and you open your eyes to look in the bathroom mirror.

Onyankapon stands there thrusting ruthlessly in your fat tight cunt, one hand covering your mouth as the other held your thigh that was on top of the sink in place, your short white nails gripping the sink and one hand falls to ony’s lower stomach, you moan and thankful his hand around your mouth was holding you back cause your face would have fallen on the mirror. “O-ony pleaseuuhhh” your voice is muffled and quiet, “what i say huh?” Gold one row grill sitting on his pretty white teeth as he spoke angrily in your ear. Hand now on your neck and his other hand smacking your thigh harshly.

Tears started to form and now he moved closer, chin on your shoulder and he thrusted up, circling his hips into you like he hated you. You almost thought he did until he moaned loudly when your pussy tightened up, signaling your upcoming orgasm. “Y-you always fuckin- shit. Always playin with me like you don’t give a fuck.” His hand on your neck tightened, your thighs shook and you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“I don’t give a fuck, a-about your damn commitment issues. You hear me?” The hand that was on your neck smacks your cheek lightly to make sure you were listening, you gasp and whine “y-yes ony ohmygosh. please please, i-im so sorry hnnn.” You didn’t mean to ghost ony for a week, you just got so detached from your phone you forgot someone actually cared for you and wanted to speak to you all the time and make sure you were okay. You hear him grumbling on the side of you but you just couldn’t think.

First he kisses your shoulder, then your cheek and neck. He turns your head towards him so you guys can go in for a sloppy kiss, exchanging moans all while he deep in your tummy. “Pussy so good and y-you was finna leave me hm? Make me feel so fuckin good mama.”

You’re gonna fucking cum.

The way he looks at you with low eyes and the way he rasp his sentences.

“Ony” it was different…this orgasm was different. You felt like crying and it was so hard to breath. Your lips formed a pout and you felt your eyes burning with tears .. “nghhh shit w-wait pa ohmygoshhhh wait!”

“Now you want me to wait? Thought you was working for that nut? Cum on that shit, make my shit more wet baby.” Oh and you fucking did. Thighs shaking and you were whining so fucking loud. “P-pa hnnnn daddy fuuck pl-please i c-can’t stop-“ you were making such a big mess, squirting on the sink and it drips in the floor, hearing the plop plop plop. And your cunt was so fucking tight! “Uhn shit.” Ony gasp.

And the unnecessarily loud squelching. Ony was looking down at your pretty two toned pussy, speading your pussy lips from behind to capture your wetness and creaminess. He bites his lips and closes his eyes as his head leaned back “mhhm” he mumbles and started beating your shit up for a quick second. “Imma cum mama… cum in this nasty ass pussy, f-fuck baby.” His hips staggered and he moved his face towards your moaning neck. Kissing and groaning up in it ass his bust his load into you.

Both breathing heavy and high on sex.

“Do that shit again and it’s gonna be worse.”

#onyankopon smut #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x y/n #aot x black reader #smut #black woman #black fem reader #black reader

4K notes · View notes

itadodori · 3 months

Text

#note: obsessive nanami with a breeding kink?? i think tf yes!

obsessed!nanami who necessarily doesn’t like to show how head over heels for you he is. he’s the type that likes to cover it up, keep it a secret just in case it creeps you out. however, he couldn’t very well hide his addiction to you when he was inches deep in you, thinking about changing both of your lives for the better.

he’s been begging to try for a baby for months now, and he was getting really fed up with your answers. you would always say yes but when it finally came down to it you’d make him pull out. what type of shit was that?

“so what d’ya say baby? gonna let me fill this pretty lil pussy up? give ya’ all my babies?” his hands flew to your hair, pulling it so hard that your head was forced back. you couldn’t even give him a solid answer with the state you were in.

not with the way his hips were snapping back and forth to meet yours, or the way his lips roughly sucked on your neck— leaving marks which were very well intended.

your shaky hands involuntary found their way to his stomach, trying to push the man out of you so you could catch some type of break.

“k..k..kento please! t’s too m..much i-“ your words were quickly cut off by him smacking your hand. you should’ve knew better honestly, he never liked when you tried to push him away, but that still didn’t stop you.

this time, you used your foot to try and push him away—but again.. you should’ve known better. as soon as he saw your leg move he was quick to slap your thigh, causing you to hiss and put it right back where he had them pinned.

“you didn’t answer my question princess.. can i?” now his thrusts were even faster than before, and he made sure to give your clit some extra attention as well, slowly teasing it by rubbing small circles around the throbbing bud.

now that was enough to drive you insane, nanami knew what he was doing, he always did. he was purposely trying to overstimulate you because he knew how easy you give into him when you’re in that state.

with curling toes, and a wide mouth you tried to escape from his grasp— well, more like you quite literally tried to run away from him.

you knew exactly what he was planning and you weren’t giving in that easily, that’s what you hoped at least.

his face fell into a frown when he realized your weak attempted to escape him, you did this every time the two of you had sex.. you could never last for longer than thirty minutes, and usually he would let you off the hook.. but this time, he had other plans.

when nanami finally got fed up of you trying to run, he became more serious. his touch was no longer passionate and steady, it was sloppy and rough.

the hand he was using to hold your legs up soon became the hand he used to grip your neck. it caught you off guard at first since he’d never done it before, but you soon became used to the feeling, and it only added to your pleasure.

“stop tryin’ to run from me. i told you about this before, keep it up and you just might get fucked up.” it was a small warning. the way his eyes locked with yours, and held that familiar gaze of seriousness, you knew he wasn’t fucking around.

you didn’t miss the way your pussy clenched tighter around him at his words, or the way you suddenly got the feeling to let him do whatever with you.

this time was different than all the other times you two had sex.. usually he wouldn’t be so— aggressive. not that you were complaining though.

you knew he was finally getting serious when he let go of the hold he had on your legs, what was he planning next? he pulled out of you without a word, and your face studied his for some type of answer.

confusion quickly took over your body, but you weren’t left confused for long.. nanami rocked his hips backwards before slamming back into you without any warning, continuing his previous goal.

the scream you let out was loud, all your neighbors most likely heard it too, probably wondering what the hell was going on.

nanami’s hands gripped on your waist, keeping you still since he knew you loved to fucking move, or better yet run. “what do you have to say to me, darling?”

“’m sorry baby— fuck! ‘m so sorry.” you had no choice but to stay still this time, you knew he wasn’t letting you get away again. even if you never really got away in the first place— he’d make sure you never thought about running from him (or his dick) again.

by this time nanami was already too far gone to listen to you. the way your pussy was squeezing around him like this, and sucking him in.. he couldn’t listen to you. not when he had a job to do.

the more your walls sucked him in, the more he felt his rationality slipping away. he couldn’t hold out much longer.. you knew he wanted kids from the beginning right? plus, it’s not like you didn’t want this. you told him yes many times before, so why not just get it over with already?

“pussy’s suckin’ me in so fuckin’ good princess, gonna fill you up real good. m..make your tummy all nice n’ round with my babies. fuck.. you’re gonna look so beautiful. tits all swollen and shit,”

his hand involuntarily came down to your stomach— carefully rubbing it as if there was a baby in there already.

you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. just as you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to carry this man’s children.

feeling him rub on your stomach while mumbling such vulgar words.. it was enough to throw you over the edge.

“oh fuck ken! ‘m cumming baby, please ‘m gonna-” he pushed down on your lower stomach, knowing that’d be more than enough to get you where he wanted you.

without warning, liquid starting pouring out of you and it was only then that you realized it wasn’t just cum.. you had squirted. and because of that, nanami wasn’t too far behind you.

“yes mama, milk this shit. let me give it all to you.. this pretty lil pussy takin’ me so well- shit!” as you were still riding out your orgasm, he was right behind you, finally filling you up with the warm cum he’d been storing so long.. just for you.

“mm yes ken. wanna have all your babies, my love. give it to me please!” little did you know, he had a lot to give, poor guy had been waiting for this moment for years now. and it was finally here.

the two of you couldn’t keep quiet even when you both already finished cumming. nanami didn’t want to pull out, he wanted to stay buried inside of you forever. the feeling of your pussy gripping him was something he’d never get tired of.

sadly, he eventually did have to pull out. you kept fussing about wanting to go to sleep, and how you didn’t want to go to sleep with him inside of you because of what he did last time.

“fine, but before you go to sleep let me just..” he got on his knees, holding your legs up just like before but this time he had a clear view of your pussy. no, his pussy.

she looked so worn out, and even now she was still clenching around nothing— clearly missing the feeling of his dick. however, what peaked his interest most was his cum spilling out of you.

well we surely couldn’t have that, could we? what was the point of all that hard work if it was all just going to go to waste..

without a second thought he ran his fingers down your folds, lapping up all the liquids that were already spilling out, earning a low moan from you.

“w..what are you doing?”

he ignored your question— focusing on collecting all the spilled out cum purely with his bare hands. once he felt he’d done enough, he wasted no time plunging his fingers into you, pushing back all of the cum that tried escaping.

“go to sleep. im going to stay like this for a while, i don’t want a single drop wasted.”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 jays creation’s #nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk one shot #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x self insert #kento smut #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen smut #nanami x reader smut #kento nanami #jujustu kaisen #anime smut

2K notes · View notes

tojilvrs · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FUCK MY EX! (AND HIS BOSS) ceo!toji fushiguro x fem reader (2.7k)

repost from my old blog!!!

⁂ warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! toji’s not a bum, reader gets cheated on (not by toji), m receiving oral, pet names, degradation, rough sex, reader’s ex sees them at the end, unprotected sex, creampie, sex as a revenge ploy, some praise, foot on head during doggy (does this have a technical name lol?), also tagging foot fetish JUST IN CASE the last thing counts lol, toji coerces reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ ONCE, spanking, some aftercare, toji steals your panties (and your heart), reader has hair long enough to be pulled

⁂ a/n: this fic literally came out of nowhere i had no plans of writing until i saw twitter porn and a little lightbulb formed above my head. anywho this is not great i wrote and proofread it while i was sleepy so if there’s mistakes don’t tell me i will get embarrassed!!!! THE PACING MIGHT ALSO BE HORRID i was just trying to get my claws on some fictional wiener. k luv u alllll <3

You never thought you could get this low.

You also never thought you’d come home to find your now ex-boyfriend balls deep in his coworker he told you not to worry about.

Way past the stages of hurt and with no more tears left to spill, you found yourself angry. You were pissed at your ex for being unfaithful. Pissed at the woman for fucking around with a man she knew was not available. And pissed at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Once you got over your sorrows and finally felt able to pull yourself together, you just wanted to rid your apartment of anything that reminded you of him.

That's how you found yourself across the table from that rat bastard's boss. A box full of his old shit perched in your lap and your nails tapping the side of the cardboard. Scanning the room of Mr. Fushiguro's luxurious office and finding yourself filling with rage all over again knowing that the last time you were here, you were helping him get promoted.

"Pleasure seeing you again," you watched as Mr. Fushiguro took a seat in his plush office chair, "though it appears you're here to play the part of 'scorned girlfriend' instead of ‘concerned girlfriend, hm?’ Word travels fast ‘round here.”

"Ex-girlfriend."

"Right," he clasped his hands together over his chest and kicked his feet up onto his desk, knocking over his name plate, “so what're you here for, scorned ex-girlfriend?"

"Just want to give his shit back. Passing it on to you so I won't have to see him and blondie going at it in your breakroom." You watched the man crack a smile before speaking again.

"S'all you’re gonna do?" He knew your answer by the way you tore your eyes off of him and focused them on the box in your lap instead. Slightly slumping down in your chair as if you were a child in trouble trying to evade the scrutinizing gaze of a parent “Oh, don’t tell me you’re just gonna let bygones be bygones and let him get away with it scott free.”

His tone made you feel like your entire situation was almost comical. You looked back up and narrowed your eyes at the man. Scanning his face and watching the scar on his lip twitch when the corner turned up in a smirk.

“Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Don’t have to be all formal now, call me Toji.”

“Okay, what exactly are you implying, Toji?” he sighed before standing up from his desk and fixing his name plate, smirk never falling from his lips and eyes never leaving yours.

“I know he is my employee, but i’m not really… fond of him either. And you’re too pretty of a girl to just let him get away with cheating. It’d make you feel better to hurt ‘em a little bit. Get a little revenge.”

You broke away eye contact from him again to look around his office. Taking note of how sparsely decorated the area was as you pondered and tried to avoid his eyes. It wasn’t the most mature or logical decision, but he was right. It would make you feel better to make him hurt just a little bit. “And how exactly might I go about that?”

Toji laughed a little as he walked around the desk, taking the box out of your lap and placing it on the floor before settling himself behind you. The sweet tobacco scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils as he got closer to you, making his presence feel almost suffocating.

“Y’know what would really get him?” His voice sounded as if it were laced with a honeyed sweetness. The sound surrounding you and ringing around in your ears. He shifted his feet, but you still felt the heat radiating off of him and onto your back.

“What?”You felt him grow closer. Leaning down behind you. So close that you could feel his breath fan against your skin.

“Fuckin’ his boss.”

The lewd suggestion tickled the shell of your ear. Your eyes widening and mouth going dry once you realized exactly what he was proposing to you. You opened your mouth to protest. To tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was, but your words fell short. Closing your mouth again to look down and stare at the indentions the corners of the cardboard box had left in your skin.

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t let your eyes linger a little too long at Toji Fushiguro. Always noticing how easy he was on the eyes when your ex would make you tag along to work events. How his suits would perfectly contour to his body. Showing off his bulging muscles through the fabric. How he seemed to tower over you and everyone else with his height and domineering presence. How your gazes would linger a little too long on each other and how his fingertips would “accidentally” graze your hips when passing you.

You were taken away from your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing up and down your jaw. His touch soft, contrasting the rough calluses that lined his fingers. You also realized he had now moved directly in front of you and you were eye-level with his crotch.

“What’ll it be, sweetness?” The tip of his thumb travelled up to your bottom lip, smearing some of your lipgloss. “Y’gonna let me help you get back at him?”

You slowly looked up at him and nodded your head, still not trusting any words to come out of your mouth. He smiled down at you, removing the hand on your chin to pet your head and using his other to unbutton his slacks.

“Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget allllll about your little ex-boyfriend.”

You were still looking up at him dumbly as he freed heavy cock from the confines of his pants, subconsciously parting your lips and slightly sticking out your tongue at the sight of him. Relishing in the way he looked at you and the noises he made once his cock makes contact with your awaiting tongue.

“Already so good and fuckin’ obedient. Did he teach you that?” You shake your head and he cackles. Easing his way into your throat. “So you’re just naturally a whore, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, not even hard enough to sting, and moves from petting your head to gripping your hair once you take him all the way into your mouth. Testing your limits and pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle in the back of your throat, loving the way you choke and sputter around him. “Takin’ me so good. Bet that motherfucker couldn’t properly stuff your throat.”

Toji’s right- he couldn’t. He also isn’t quite as big as Toji is either, in both length and girth. It also seems that the man in front of you didn’t learn to fuck from porn like your ex did. Only pushing your limits a little bit at a time and not throatfucking you from the get-go. Also making sure you’re not suffocating on him for too long.

You began to move your tongue over the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, watching in satisfaction as he throws his head back and groans. Doing it again and again and watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit, baby, got the sweetest fuckin’ mouth.” His voice is huskier now, almost breathy. You watch as sweat begins to lightly bead across his forehead and his hands come off of you to loosen his tie around his collar. The air becoming too thick and hot for him. You suck him off with much more passion as you get used to his size. Bobbing your head up and down his length and occasionally pulling yourself off to lick on the sensitive skin around his balls. Not paying much mind to the spit that has run from your mouth and covered the bottom half of your face.

“That’s it- hah- fuck yeah… that’s it. Gonna cum down that pretty fuckin’ throat” You kept up your ministrations, using your hand to lightly squeeze his balls as you took his full length down your throat once more. Listening as Toji’s pants became progressively more and more uneven. Only taking a few more short moments before his abs tighten and he takes in a deep inhale as he shoots his load down your throat. His leg twitching as the coil in his belly snaps. Pulling off of him to stick out your tongue and show him that you swallowed it all.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He gripped your chin tightly and you nodded your head dumbly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He smiled and gestured for you to walk over to the plush, black couch he kept in his office. A guiding hand resting on your lower back as he layed you down on your stomach. He took his time running his hands from your calves all the way up to your ass, like he was trying to memorize every dip in your skin. Once he reached the hem of your skirt, he flipped it up. Gently running the palms of his hands over the smooth skin and giving the right cheek a harsh slap and soothing the sting with the very same hand that inflicted it.

“Suckin’ dick make you this wet?” Your slick had soiled your panties, smearing onto your thighs. His fingers lightly ran across the soaked fabric. You felt the couch dip under his weight as he settled behind you, feeling the fabric of his haphazardly pulled down pants and the heat of whatever skin that was exposed press into you.

“Sucking yours does.” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side to make contact with your swollen clit. The cool air of his office hitting your soaked center makes you shiver. “You’re gentler than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh baby,” He pauses, taking his hands off of you to maneuver himself around, “you haven’t had the worst yet.”

You’re comfused until you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance and begin to push in. Your walls greedily sucking him in even though it felt as if he was splitting you in two.

“Tight as a fuckin’ virgin, y’gotta open up for me, girl.” His fingers rub tight circles on your clit. Using that to his advantage to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into you until he’s bottomed out. Your hips arching into him as any remnants of pain begin to wash away and are overtaken with white-hot pleasure. His hands find purchase on your hips as his thrusts begin to speed up. Going harder into you and somehow hitting you deeper each time, causing tears to spring in corners of your eyes.

“Already cryin’ on my cock and we’ve barely even started? Slut can’t handle it?” He slaps your ass again, not caring if it stings. You furiously shake your head as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. Trying your hardest to match his brutal pace with your own hips. “Oh, you think you can take control now, huh? I’d watch it, little girl.”

At first you think he pushes your face into the couch with his hand. That’s until you realize that both his hands are still on your hips and it’s actually his foot that’s found its place on the back of your head as he continues to fuck the memory of your ex out of you. Your pussy clenching down on him at the mere thought of the position.

“Like being treated like a whore don’t you? Shitty man couldn’t do it like I can.” You couldn’t respond back even if you tried. Too caught up in the feeling of being stuffed full by the most skilled man you’ve ever fucked and biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Writhing under him as the pleasure of his tip repeatedly hitting your spot over and over again was becoming almost too much.

Toji must’ve felt the way your pussy began to tighten around him or how your moans were so loud the couch wasn’t muffling them well anymore. His hand snaked around your hip and back down to your clit to rub shapes on it, bringing your closer to your peak.

“That’s right, cum on this cock baby. Hah- cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” He spoke to you through gritted teeth and the sound went straight to your core. It wasn’t long after that your back slipped into a deeper arch and your cunt clenched down on him even harder. A white ring of cream forming around the base of his dick as he worked you through your orgasm and worked himself closer to his.

“Such a good girl. You’re gonna take my cum, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?” You nodded a quick yes, pussy still quaking from your orgasm. the only thing keeping your hips from collapsing into the couch being the vice grip of his strong hands.

The foot pressed into your head was removed and replaced by his right hand gripping your hair and pulling you up to meet his face. Looking him in the eyes for the first time since he started fucking you and seeing the beast of a man he’s become. Pupils blown, hair messy, and face sweaty as his grunts get louder, more aggressive.

“So pretty baby. You’re my good, pretty girl, right? C’mon, daddy a kiss when he cums. You’ve been so. fucking. good.” The last of his words were punctuated by rough thrusts into your heat. His heavy balls slapping against your clit so hard it was making you jump. You craned your head back even more for your lips to meet his in a sloppy, lust-filled kiss as he lets out a final rough grunt into your mouth. The familiar warmth flooding your pussy as his thrusts begin to let up.

He’s gentle with you for the first time in a while, gently resting your head back down to the couch before slowly pulling his softening dick out, tucking it back into his underwear, and smoothing your skirt back down. Rubbing a hand over the arch of your back and letting you rest on his couch as he pulls off your soiled panties and pockets them for himself. Also noticing a patch of your slick that has soiled the front of his pants and smiling as a mix of both of your releases begin to trickle out of your spent hole. Using two of his fingers to push it back in. The room is quiet for the first time in a long while. Only sound being the oscillating box fan in the corner of the room. It says quiet for a while, until you break the silence.

“Don’t even think I can remember the fucker’s name anymore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turn over onto your back to face him, watching closely as he fixes his suit to the best of his ability. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you’d like.”

He turns to face you, smirking again, “Can’t say I’d hate that.”

It’s your turn to smirk at him before letting your head roll over and rest again. Consumed with the thoughts of how that was definitely the best revenge plan you ever participated in.

You’re almost drifting off until that same thought wakes you up again. Sitting up to look at Toji.

“Wait, how was any of that a revenge ploy if he didn’t even see it?” Toji smirks, fixing his tie. Not even a second later you hear a knock on his door before Toji gives the visitor permission to enter.

“You wanted to see m-“ Your ex stops mid-sentence once he sees you lounging on his employer’s couch with his cum leaking out of you. “Wait, what is she doing here?”

“Baby brought your shit by.” Toji kicks the box towards him as he pulls your panties out of his back pocket and swinging them around his index finger. “Anything else you need? Or do you just wanna watch me fuck your ex-girl again?”

#forgive me if my blog gets annoying as I repost 🤞#female reader #jjk ‪♡#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

2K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 6 months

Note

“you still mad at me?” while balls deep with rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫.

GODDDD U ATE W THIS PROMPT 😩 like my jaw dropped

rafe was always doing this.

he’d make empty promises, plans even — talk to you all sweet with a warm hand on your back whispering suggestion of “that was the last time i’m getting involved with all that crazy shit, baby. i swear. s’just me you n’me now, you hear me?” and you being the fool, believed him.

until of course you’re catching him pulling back up to the drive on his motorcycle, yanking his helmet off with that ill-tempered expression of his that just tells you enough that somethings gone on, you know, the one where his teeth are grit, lips pressed together like they’d been sewn shut. that’s not even where it ends, because often times barry is close behind, pulling up alone side so they can debrief loudly in the living room, stinking up the place with pot. even if you were mad, you know the rules. no coming down the stairs when barry’s over.

you almost had started to enjoy the feeling of sulking when rafe would eventually skulk up the stairs after barry had left, shoulders heavy and ready to grovel. naturally, you put up quite the fight — and what might surprise you is that rafe let’s you mouth off, even if he knows you don’t understand the importance of his situation and likely never will.

“again and again rafe! how many times am i gonna have to put up with you just running off to god knows where when you promise me you’re not doing all that anymore! you were supposed to be with me today!” you nearly stomp your foot, that last sentence coming out childishly like an abandoned middle child. he nods, jaw ticking as he stares at the ground scratching his forehead, waiting for his lashing to end. once the tears start to roll, that’s his queue. like clockwork.

“come on, hey. y’know i love you, sweetheart. i’m sorry, okay?” he rushes to your side, sliding right up next to you on the bed and thumbing at the first batch of tears on your cheek, his hand so large it cups your skull at the same time. you want to preen into his touch, so elated with any affection after a day of missing him, worrying about him — but you don’t, because you’re still mad. be strong, you tell yourself.

you’re weak. you hate yourself.

not even 10 minutes of your sobbing and complaining later and he’s got your legs over his broad shoulders, balls slapping lewdly against you whilst he all but pumps you. his hands that are on your waist, using you as leverage reposition themselves so that he’s holding himself up over you more. a large hand wraps gently around your ankle as he does so, making sure your leg doesn’t slide off the strong slopes of his shoulder.

squeals and more tears are being punched out of you with each thrust, but he can see you physically relaxing, he can see you reaching out to him with a wobbling bottom lip so that you can hold onto his arms like you always do when he fucks you. it’s neutralising you.

“fuck, that’s m’girl.” he pants, mouth gaping at the way your pussy flutters around him. you’re so reactive to his voice he can’t believe it, never having met anyone who is so enamoured with everything he does. shit, maybe he should treat you better after all. he keeps talking, because he thinks you deserve to cum a whole bunch tonight, after putting up with all his shit. having a girlfriends made him gone all soft.

“you still mad at me?” he tilts his head, and you’re not sure if it’s intended to be mean or mocking, because it certainly doesn’t come out that way — his voice kind and eyes kinder, rolling the well kept muscles in his core to grind his cock against that spongey spot deep within. you don’t answer his question, clinging onto that last crumb of dignity and restraint. you pout through your whimpers, turning your head a little. he takes that opportunity to burrow down into your neck, his open mouth panting against your tepid skin as he speaks lowly again. “dont be mad at me baby. i’m only tryna look after my girl, you want that right?”

“mhm…” you reply before you permit yourself.

he slides his arms under you now, letting your legs down from his shoulders to hook around his waist instead. he’s holding your body close to his as he grinds, his pelvis smushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re so god damn close it hurts and you’ll do anything to cum.

“so good to me, baby.” he sighs and you cry out, arching your body harder to his. “i know. let it out. i’m so bad to you sweetheart s’the least i can do.” he mutters self pityingly before letting out a groan, cock pulsing inside you. you remember thinking about how right he was about that when you fell over the edge into a white hot orgasm.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

2K notes · View notes