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#the kind that leave you panting and breathless

pirateshavefeelingstoo · 9 months

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I love slow, deliberate kisses. The kind of kisses where first your nose brushes against hers and then you can feel her breath on your lips and your hand moves up to her cheek and then, only after a few moments of breathing the same air do your lips touch. I want kisses that are long and heavy and syrupy.

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colonelarr0w · 2 months

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SCREW SOFT DOM GOJO, I WANT AN AGGRESSIVE DOM GOJO WHO WILL TEAR APART MY BODY (in the nicest way possible 🎀)

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - This is, again, just straight fucking smut.

Note - Anon. You are so real for this.

Read the Soft Dom version here!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who seems to be a completely different person the moment that your bedroom door is shut. Calloused hands roam your body, fingers pinching almost meanly at your curves. In that moment, as his lips attack your own in a flurry of hungry kisses that leave you flustered and completely breathless.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who lifts you by your hips and all but throws you onto the sheets like a ragdoll — one shaped purely for his own pleasure. You could tell by the rapid rising and falling of his chest that you would likely not leave that bed for hours, not until Gojo was done with you of course.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who is just downright mean to you. His usually featherlight and affectionate kisses to your neck are replaced by rough suckling and bites that no doubt leave behind marks for you to find in the morning. Your little gasps and pants are caught quickly by Gojo’s lips, delivering yet another hungry kiss that has your head positively spinning.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who continues to leave bruises and bite marks against your skin as his lips trail downward, taking one of your tits into his mouth and swirling his tongue over your already hardened nipple. He sinks his teeth into the plush skin, lifting his head upward and smirking at the shocked moan that you let out, back arching off of the sheets.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who helps you shimmy out of your pants before running a thin finger over your clothed pussy, swirling the tip of his index finger over your clit and smirking to himself at the little jolts of your body — back lifting off of the bed with each little touch. He turns his wrist, thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing quickened circles against it, smirking at the desperate pants and whines that fall from your parted lips.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who only removes your panties when you’re a whining, drooling mess. A thin line of your own saliva is trickling down from the corner of your mouth, soft pants falling from your lips as you peer down at Gojo through lust-blown eyes. He stares back at you, mentally committing the sight to memory and smirking again, pressing his palm flat against your still-clothed pussy — that earns him another desperate little “Satoru!”

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who finally…finally licks a stripe up your pussy, deciding to tease even further and avoid your clit. He’ll focus on swirling the tip of his tongue over your entrance, smirking as you whine and attempt to buck your hips up to get some kind of friction against the neglected bundle of nerves. He only wraps an arm over your hips, pushing you back down onto the bed and clicking his tongue at you.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who then eats you out with a hunger that — while not unusual — still felt just downright mean. His tongue bullies both your clit and your entrance, alternating between the two just when he feels your legs begin to shake against his head, thighs clamping around his ears as you try to push him away. But you don't win, and you won't ever win...not tonight anyway.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who continues to eat you out even as your fingers try to push him away and as desperate pleas of "too much" and "too sensitive" fall from your parted lips. Instead of listening to your pleas like he would any other night, Gojo only presses his palms against your legs, parting them further to allow himself better access to you, suckling on your clit and smirking at the way that your head falls back against the pillows.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who straight bullies your cunt once he bottoms out in you, hands gripping at your hips and no doubt leaving behind bruises for him to admire in the morning. His hips snap into your own, setting the rough pace and not letting up for even a single second – not that you mind, honestly.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who covers your mouth with his palm, silencing your moans and continuing to thrust into you at an unrelenting pace, his hips slapping against yours. Your back arches impossibly further off of the bed, body spasming as that familiar knot in your stomach begins to coil tighter and tighter.

!Aggressive Dom Gojo who fucks you through your orgasm, reaching a hand down to rub your clit in quickened circles. His head bends down to whisper dirty nothings into your ears, referring to you as "his good girl" as your body continues to spasm with the shocks of your orgasm. Internally, he debates on continuing, bordering on overstimulating you but deciding against it as your moans morph into pathetic little whines – perhaps another time.

We <3 any and all forms of Gojo in this house.

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ceilidho · 26 days

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 9)

first chapter >> last chapter

If you’d lived any closer to other people, you’d be ashamed of the state that you arrive home in. Both you and John had stumbled out of the river and put on your clothes hastily, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your wet skin, difficult to put back on without drying off. He hadn’t brought a flannel or towel to dry yourself with after your swim—perhaps thought you’d dry in the sun. Even if there had been one, you can’t imagine you’d have the patience.

You move in quick bursts, pants pulled up your legs, blouse buttoned with trembling fingers, feet straight into your bottoms, your socks stuffed in your pockets. John moves with similar purpose, quick to dress and usher you over to Buttercup with a hand flat on your back, pushing you with the force you remember him using all those weeks ago on your way to the courthouse.

Neither one of you says a word. Words feel far away and clunky. Rough in a way they’ve never felt. Improper too, to turn to your husband under the light of a clear day and whisper, I want you to make love to me. Say to him, I need to be as close to you as physically possible, I need you to soothe this ache in me, in front of God and all of His creatures wandering through the woods.

You wonder if you look as disheveled as you feel.

The ride home passes by in a blur. Perhaps the sunlight catches your eye through the treetops and pries the memory from your head, the passive observer in you usurped by the soft animal of your flesh. It feels John’s strong hand on your hip and purrs. It coaxes you to rub your backside up against him, startled when his fingers tighten around your hip and he holds you there against his erection, groaning softly.

“Keep that up ‘n we won’t make it home, darlin’,” John warns, voice growling in your ear. Your blood sizzles, vision going white.

You feel coltish when he helps you dismount, legs shaking beneath you as you watch him take Buttercup back to the stables. He makes quick work about it, long legs carrying him swiftly from the house to the stables. It’s different observing him now because the thought that rises to the top of your mind now, like the fat on the cream, sweet and plump, is, that’s my husband. My husband is going to deflower me. My husband is going to take me to bed and strip me down to nothing and spread my legs—

The thought evaporates when you notice him shut the stable doors and head back towards you. Again, he walks with such purpose that you can only stare at the movement of his hips.

Time stops when he puts a hand to your cheek and bends low, drawing you into another kiss as deep and languid as the one back in the river. His tongue curls around yours, plying you open until you have no choice but to relinquish everything to him. Your tongue, your docility, your mind. Everything parts to let him inside.

“Look at you,” John murmurs against your lips. “Sweet little thing. Can barely keep yourself upright. Let’s get you to bed.”

He ushers you up the stairs with haste. The staircase feels longer than usual, more of an effort to get up each step. In the bedroom, he locks the door like he did that first night, but this time your heart flutters instead of trembling.

It’s hardly been any time at all since you saw him naked in the river, but the sight of his bronzed flesh and hirsute chest when he strips his shirt off leaves you breathless. He’s the kind of man that you would studiously avoid looking at if you were to pass him on the street. Too strapping of a man to waste your yearning heart on. Too much of a blow if he were to pass his eyes over you and find you wanting.

But to know that he wants you as bad as he does is almost too much as well.

John leans back against the pillows with you cradled in his arms, your pants long since stripped from your legs. Your blouse is still on, but barely, rucked up over the soft swell of your belly. Only a single button holding it in place, even the thread on that button loose and fraying. A hand cups your breast, the other folded over your hand resting on your belly, your fingers threaded together.

“God, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he sighs. Your core tightens at that and he breathes a laugh when he feels the muscle of your stomach flex under his hand. “Could hardly believe it the first time I laid my eyes on you. I was spittin’ mad, left waitin’ and wantin’ all those weeks, but then you walked in and…Christ, I just knew.”

“Knew what?” you ask, ignoring the ache in your chest at the mention of the girl he’d been waiting for.

“Knew I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I’d get you.”

What does it mean that everything in you quivers at that? On the threshold of breaking. Your husband’s fingers plucking your nipple and then soothing the hurt by swirling his thumb around your areola. He’s worn your resistance down to the quick. You curl the hand on your belly into a fist and his fingers curl with yours.

“Been such a sweet thing for me too,” John says into your ear, dragging his hand from your breast down your stomach and over your hip, curling around the inside of your thigh and pulling it open. He can see everything now, the dewy petals of your sex spreading wide for his perusal, no longer hidden beneath a shift or dress. “Fuck, darlin’…look at that gorgeous little slice of heaven.”

“Oh Lord—” you say, heat crawling up your neck.

John huffs, rubbing his palm up and down your thigh, closer and closer with every stroke. Your sex pulses with each glancing stroke, your breath coming out in ragged pants. “Made me work for it, didn’t ya?”

“I did no—I barely did a thing.”

“Yeah, you did, pretty girl,” he says, dismissing your words, and then his fingers are there, splitting your lips wide, middle finger dragging down the seam like he did on the porch swing all those nights ago. Any rebuttal you might’ve had vanishes in a blink, heart beating staccato. “Could’ve taken it that first night. I wanted to—almost did. But I wanted you sweet and simpering.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, beard burning the skin there. “And what are you now, darlin’?”

“S-sweet and simp-simpering,” you whisper, stuttering when his finger glides over your opening and finds you soaked. So slick that his finger sinks right in up to the second knuckle.

Your knee falls open even more.

He smiles against your neck before kissing up to your temple. “That’s right, honey. Knew you had it in you.”

“Oh—it’s…it’s…” you gasp when he gives you another, two fingers plunging into you, shallow pumps that hardly get you where you need to go.

“There we go, darlin’. Ain’t that nice? Need ya to be nice ‘n soft for me—don’t wanna hurt ya.”

He’s far from hurting you, but still your stomach twists up.

“I need—I need—p-please, John, give it to me.”

“And wha’s that?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Give you what, honey?”

You’re tempted to grab his hand and bring his fingers up to your clit, but you can’t quite muster up the nerve. Instead you huff, brows puckering in frustration. You try to draw your knees up to your chest and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of you and wrenches your knee back down to the mattress, pinning it there.

“None of that,” John scolds, his wet fingers curling around the inside of your knee. “You have to ask for things, darlin’. Use your words.”

Your core clenches at his words. The little bit of stretching that he did leaves you feeling empty without his fingers, slickness dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“I need to…” you say, thoughts slipping from you. All you want is for John to plunge his fingers back into your sex and take you to your peak, but the words get lost as they travel down your tongue. “It’s not enough.”

“Just my fingers, you mean?” The same ones he digs into your leg until the flesh bulges around his fingers.

“No,” you whine. You try to drag the hand intertwined with his on your belly down to your sex, but he resists, keeping your hand pinned in place. He holds firm when you struggle, chuckling at the whine that slips past your lips.

“Poor girl. Needy little thing, aren’t ya? Not stretched enough yet though, darlin’—I’m a lot bigger than a couple fingers.” You choke at that, scandalized. “I’ll give your clit a little lovin’ though.”

He takes his hand off your knee and brings it up so he can spit in his hand. You flinch when you hear the glob of spit hit his palm, and then his hand is back between your legs, wet palm grinding into your sensitive button when his fingers push back into your hole. Single-minded now, trying to coax your orgasm out of you. Forcing a third finger into your hole and shushing you dismissively when you howl and try to squirm away.

The voice in your head demeaning you for acting so lewd is drowned out by your own cries when you come on John’s fingers. It disappears entirely when John kisses your temple and thanks you for giving him your release. Like it’s a gift you’ve given him.

Your hands flutter over his shoulders when he gets you on your back and fits his hands into the creases of your knees to guide your thighs open. He must like what he sees because his eyelids droop when he stares down at the slick folds between your legs, heavy with lust.

“Lord, that’s pretty,” John says, petting your clit with his thumb and smiling when you squirm.

You breathe in quick, shallow breaths, hopelessly beyond composing yourself. Perhaps once or twice you might have allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to lie with a man. You’ve heard other women giggle amongst themselves about it, about men going cross-eyed, rubicund cheeked, heaving bellies and thighs slapping against the girl’s rear—a handful of thrusts and then finally some peace and quiet when he passed out on the other side of the bed.

You’re familiar with the mechanics, if only in theory. The expectation of disappointment; that you’d only have to grin and bear it. Think of England.

John, of course, does not conform to those expectations.

“You take my hand, darlin’,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his and pressing it down to the bed. “Give me a squeeze if it’s too much.”

Your mouth is too dry, mind too scattered to form a response. All you can do is stare up at him.

“Hey.” With his other hand, he gives you a light tap on the cheek. It doesn’t even sting, but it makes you blink. “You still with me?”

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. Your heart jumps when he reaches down to take his shaft in hand and notch the head against your sopping entrance.

Everything collapses down to the feeling of him pressing forward, an insistent siege that doesn’t let up because when you squeeze his hand reflexively, it comes with a, yes, yes, please, falling unbidden from your lips. It feels foreign at first, bigger than the fingers he pressed into you before. Claustrophobic, suffocating. With his arms braced on either side of your head, John eclipses everything else from view.

When it gets too much, you squeeze his hand and dig your nails in, hissing at the stretch. It hurts, and the more you tense, the tighter you get. John winces when you clench around him.

“Easy does it,” he says, squeezing your hand back. He dips his head to drop a soft kiss on your lips, coaxing them open. When you think of the men that languish in opium dens, you imagine that it must feel something like John Price’s tongue licking into your mouth.

“It hurts,” you mumble when he pulls away.

“I know, honey. Being so brave for me though.” You whine when he sinks in another inch, flexing your toes up in the air. “My brave girl—that’s it…just a lil more, darlin’.”

“There’s more?” you blurt out, and he laughs, the sound coursing through you, shaking you with him.

Effervescent bubbling joy swells in your chest, so crystal clear for a moment. The man above you almost glows, so radiant that you reach a hand up to cup his face, entranced.

There’s nothing like him in the world. No one else like him. Steel underneath silk, the very roughness and essence of man that you’ve always known tempered by a softness that makes you physically ache. And in spite of self-doubt and common sense, he looks down at you with the same reverence. Knowing nothing about you. Knowing only something essential about you, the part divested of history, past or future. Whoever you are at your core, he wants it. He’s taken it as his own.

Then he pushes that last inch into your cunt and you go breathless.

“There we go, darlin’,” John grits out, and you can see the sweat beading on his temples now. “Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of that.”

Your hand feels clammy in his, a thin layer of sweat building on the nape of your neck and along your back as well. He helps you cinch your legs around his waist more comfortably, and you lock your ankles at the small of his back, but still it feels too much. Stretched to your limits. You can hardly swallow, never mind open your mouth to speak.

John praises you the whole time in hushed whispers, squeezing your hand in his and petting your face with the other. Fingers slide past your cheek and tangle in your hair, a thumb tracing the shell of your ear. He drops wet, sucking kisses down your neck and over your clavicle, licking up the hollow of your throat. Your skin must taste salty with sweat, but still he lavishes you with kisses.

“Can you take a bit more, darlin’?” he asks. “Still hurt?”

“It—it’s tight,” you rasp, wiggling your hips. You’re hardly able to move though, pinned in place by his bulk.

“C’mon, arms around me,” he tells you, waiting until your hands are tangled together behind his neck. “We’ll take it real slow, okay?”

You squeak with the first thrust, not expecting the feeling of his cock pulling out of you before pushing back in. He rocks into you slowly though, letting you grow used to the feeling of him inside you. His eyes don’t leave yours the whole time. Dark blue warmed by the sunlight.

My husband’s inside me, you think, a bit hysterically. The same man that you thought might lock you up and throw away the keys now has you on your back in his bed—your bed—making a space for himself in your body.

The discomfort takes most of the pleasure away at first. All you can focus on is the way your flesh has to stretch to accommodate him with every thrust, the breath forced out of you. Lips screwed up, teeth digging into your bottom lip painfully to hold back the soft grunts building up in your chest.

“You alright?” John asks in a pulverized voice. You’ve never heard him quite like that.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m f-fine.”

You don’t sound fine. The sound he lets out lets you know what he thinks of your response. He takes greater care for a time after that, each stroke deliberate, a slow, smooth glide. You feel ragdoll-like in his arms, like a poppet for him to play with; a well-cared for thing. A treasured thing that he rocks into and peppers with kisses, across your eyelids and forehead.

The bedroom echoes with the sound of your panting breaths and John’s deep, guttural groans every time he sinks into your sex, the lewd, wet squelch of your cunt growing louder as his hips pick up speed. You can see the second you lose him when his eyes go flinty, staring past you. His hands fist into the bedsheets, knuckles going white.

“Jesus—” he grunts, driving into you hard enough to send you shuttling up the bed. You squeal at that, digging your nails into his back. “Yeah, hold me like that, honey.”

Your breasts bounce with every thrust. John’s eyes flit between them and your eyes before snapping back up to meet your gaze, barely tearing his eyes away long enough to blink.

Your skin feels hot, tight. Worse when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth like back in the river and suckles. Crude, wet sounds fill the air; sucks that turn sloppy. He kisses between your breasts before latching on to your other nipple.

He murmurs praises into your skin, breath going choppy. Little susurrations. My wife. Brave, pretty girl. Taking it so well. Tiny little thing.

When a couple tears leak down your cheek and it starts to build beneath your skin, hot tongues of fire licking up in you, John’s lips pull into a flat line. He can smell it on you. See it in the way your eyes lose focus, glossy and wet. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching until your lips purse.

“Look at me when you come,” John growls, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. “You look at your husband when he makes you come.”

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. His fingers pinch where they hold your cheeks. This close to his end, his strength gets away from him; you can feel the attempt to be gentle, but it gets lost in his frenzied need to pump his spend into your belly. His biceps bulge beside your head, a vein near his temple throbbing.

“You w-won’t let me go? You won’t leave me?” you ask desperately. You don't know why you need to hear him say it, but you’re afraid you’ll die without it.

“Mine until the end of fuckin’ time, you hear me?” He pinches your cheeks until your mouth falls open, then leans down to lick into your mouth. “You’re gonna let me put a baby in you, wife, and you’re never gonna fuckin’ leave me.”

You come when his mouth brushes over yours, the intimacy overwhelming. Your thighs tighten around his waist, trying to get as close to him as possible, nails raking down his back. If you could climb into his skin, you would.

John reaches his peak noisily, his thick spend filling your cunt and his tongue filling your mouth. You can feel it inside of you, spurting against your womb, and even the thought of that makes you shiver. He made a house for a wife and children, and he has the former now. Only the latter is missing.

His hands and mouth are everywhere on you. Petting along your flank, stroking down your side. Sucking softly at your lower lip while he pumps the last of his essence into you. You feel wrung dry, every limb aching and sore. It’ll be worse come morning. For now, exhaustion settles over you like a blanket.

When he pulls out, you can’t help the sound that comes out of you, like a sob trapped in your chest.

“Oh Lord, I’m a mess,” you whisper, leaning up on your elbows and glancing down between your legs with morbid curiosity.

Embarrassment at the sight of John’s come leaking onto the bed sheets nearly makes you curl up into a ball. It’s filmy and sticky when you try to gather it up with your fingers. You wipe it on the bed sheets when you realize that now you just have a mess on your hands.

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he gets off, wet, flaccid cock swinging between his legs. Again, you can’t help but stare despite the way your stomach twists.

“Sit up,” he orders, and you do without thinking. “Can’t go to bed like this.”

John washes you with a warm cloth, dunking it in the porcelain basin on the bedside table whenever it gets too cold. You’d protest the gentle treatment, but it’s nice to be waited on for a change. You can see why some would grow used to it. The only time you lose your cool is when he drags the washcloth gently between your legs.

“You could just give me the cloth,” you snip, horribly embarrassed. “I’ve washed myself once or twice, you know.”

For all your spitting and hissing, he only laughs.

He takes care of the wet spot beneath you as well, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden chair before changing the sheets.

“I can—I can wash those in the morning,” you chime from the chair in the corner of the room, ankles crossing and uncrossing nervously. You wince when you feel a glob of his spend drip out of you.

John’s mustache twitches with a barely contained smile. “We’ll worry about that in the morning, bug.”

It’s hard to just let things go. Two weeks in his care can barely begin to equate to the decade plus you spent fending for yourself. There are still days you spend looking over your shoulder, waiting for your past to catch up with you. Waiting for this life to evaporate like smoke. You can’t relinquish all of your control just yet, not when that possibility still looms on the horizon. No matter how much you want.

You don’t think he knows what’s doing. Not truly.

John can’t know what he’s become to you. That he is fixed, that he is binding you to a present that you never saw as sure. It wavers in front of you like the fickle light of a candle, and suspended above it, you stare at the douter, waiting for it to come down and snuff the flame out.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #john price x reader #john price/reader #captain john price

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moon-rivr · 12 days

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i bet on losing dogs

part two of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst (to nobody’s surprise), clothed grinding, and masturbation (f)

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: hi guys 😋 (with the intention you don’t hate me after this part)

word count: 6.4k

I always want you when I'm finally fine

Miguel had you placed in his lap, his lips ghosting on your neck in only a way that he was familiar with. His fingers gripped on your hips, moving you against his clothed crotch. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. The touch of him was consuming you completely, but the fact was that you wanted nothing more but to be completely absorbed by him.

You were fueled by the desperation of almost losing him, your body practically melting as his hands travelled over your body. It felt like he was exploring you for the first time, his fingers ghosting across every expanse and curve of your body. "You were always so beautiful," the sudden whisper by your ear had goosebumps forming all over your arms. He had a smile plastered on his face, the type of smile that allowed you to see the slight imperfection in his teeth. The one that you loved so much.

"I missed you," you didn't recognize your own voice, you were breathless. So affected by so little. "Yeah, what'd you miss about me?" his tone carried a teasing tone, his lips on your collarbone to leave a couple marks on there. Marks that conveyed that you still, undoubtedly, were his. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage as you rubbed your aching cunt onto his thigh. "I missed everything about you. Your besitos, your back rubs, and the way you fuck me," you managed to get out, finding it difficult to form any actual sentences now.

"That's it, use me however you need to," he whispered against your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your neck. The contact had you shivering, your cunt brushing up against the tent in his pants. Your hips swiveled as you moved against him, the friction stimulating your clit. "You're gonna cum from just my lap, hermosa? ¿Me extrañastes tanto?" his voice took on a taunting tone as he saw you squirm in his lap, getting close to your orgasm. All you could do was nod to his question, biting your lip to stifle any moans that were threatening to come out.

(you missed me that much?)

"You know I'll always wait for you, right?"

Now that part had gotten too unrealistic for your own sake. You opened your eyes, a discarded pizza box in the middle of your hotel bed and a vintage science fiction movie from the 20's playing on the television. If only you could've convinced yourself to stay in that dream for just a little bit longer. At least so you wouldn't have to deal with the insistent throbbing in between your legs.

Strings of slick connected your cunt to your panties when you slid them down, your walls clenching around thin air for some kind of friction. Maybe a cold shower would help? You weren't exactly responsible for your water consumption if it ended taking too long. You stripped off your pajamas, getting in the shower and closing the glass door behind you.

Your hand ghosted down to your vagina, your fingers running against your folds before you stuck one inside. Damn it. Despite the fact that you knew what made your body tick, you just couldn't find relief. Not when the dream was in the forefront of your mind. Not when you could practically feel his touch on your skin, leaving you all too desperate as you tried to imagine that your hands were his instead. You brought up your free hand to your hardened nipple, pinching it between your pointer and middle finger.

It was almost comical the way that your fingers left you feeling much more empty than when you started this whole ordeal. Another reminder that Miguel wasn't here. You shortly established a rhythm, pushing your fingers in and out on your cunt to get off. Your bottom lip was captured in between your teeth as you resisted the urge to moan, like people hadn't done more obscene things in these hotels. The cold water hit your clit, the swollen nub throbbing for some kind of stimulation as you worked yourself open.

You applied some pressure to your neglected clit, ranging from rubbing it in small circles to pinching it in between your fingers. Anything that would make this end. You chased the all too familiar feeling, the coil inside you tightening up before snapping in half. Your slick coated your fingers as you came, the cold water a stark contrast to how ignited your body felt right now. As much as you tried to convince yourself on the walk over to this hotel that you needed to get over him, you didn't know how you would even begin to start with that process.

You hated feeling this way, unable to get over Miguel. But in a way, how could you when everything just felt so unfinished between the two of you? Even before you left for California, the time between the two of you had been too short.

You leaned your body against the cold shower tiles, closing your eyes as the after effects of your orgasm washed out. Despite the fact that the throbbing between your legs was gone, you couldn't ignore the way your heart clenched at just the memory of tonight. 'Fiancée' kept running through your mind, how the man who seemingly had no intention of settling down was now about to become somebody's husband. Maybe you should've just gone back to sleep.

You truly hated Miguel O'Hara.

You hated his stupid crooked teeth. The way that his cheeks curved up when he was actually amused by something. His stupid geneticist jokes. The way that he seemed to know your body better than yourself, working you like an instrument with every single encounter. How his eyes only seemed to be reserved for you in every event, like you were the only one worthy of being looked at by him.

But most of all, you hated the way that your stupid, bleeding broken heart only seemed to beat for him.

"You could've told her the truth instead of letting her mope around the place like a kicked puppy," Tempest told Miguel as the two of them stepped into their shared apartment. He didn't need much more specification on who she was talking about, not when most of his attention had been on you for most of the night. The way that your emotions were so clear to see despite the smile that you forced on your face. How he wanted to kiss that little frown off your face.

Tell you that's it's always just been you.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, sitting down on the couch to take off his shoes. "Her and I were never anything serious, I don't have any reason to explain things to her," was the same excuse that he gave himself over and over to justify why he kept this a secret for so long. Tempest let out a scoff, but she didn't add much more to that as she slid her heels off. He itched to go and help her, but he knew he'd probably get a heel thrown at his head if he did.

Tempest went over to her own bedroom, making a beeline to switch out of the clothes that she'd chosen for the night before going back over to the living room. "Take it from the dying person. There's nothing selfish about wanting your own happiness," she told him, walking past his bedroom to head into the living room once more. Now there was food for thought. Prioritizing his own happiness instead of trying to fix the things around him. A thought that he didn't want to entertain right now.

He headed out of his room after changing out of his clothes, rubbing his eyes as he headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You would've been a decent poet," he steers the conversation into safe territory, conversation that didn't involve how he was feeling. "Not really. I was gonna pursue something in sports, maybe in sports medicine," she responded, walking over to the kitchen where he was standing. Tempest was fairly decent at discerning when he wanted to drop a subject, so she decided on doing just that.

"Goodnight, Miguel," Tempest spoke up after a while, her body exhausted from the events of the day. She'd skipped out on her daily nap to go to the party with him, her body facing the consequences now. Not that she'd ever voice any concern though, not when she was getting free food and a free place to stay. As well as access to low cost healthcare.

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything," Miguel told her, passing her a bottle of water so she'd be able to take her night pills. Tempest looked over at her pill box reluctantly, taking out the small capsules before gulping them down. No matter how many times she swallowed the pills, the process of keeping them down never got any easier. Tempest gave him a small thumbs up, heading over to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. Not that he'd miss any movement that she made with the thin wall separating them anyways.

Miguel laid down in bed with one hand behind his head, his gaze directed at the ceiling like it would reveal some kind of magical answer to him. He had no actual responsibility to stay loyal to you, yet he knew that if the roles would've been reversed that he would've lost his shit. That he would've gotten down on his knees and begged you to reconsider, reconsider the happy moments that the two of you had together. Albeit, most of them short and temporary but still sweet.

He was doing this to help out Tempest. Yet, she showed more interest in having him be with you than he did. She probably felt guilty for being stuck in such a predicament with him, the thought backed up by the one time she'd asked him what he got out of this. He wasn't completely sure what he got out of this arrangement, really, but he knew was that some part of him felt inclined to.

One of the things that he did know was that he needed to see this through after what he’d promised her.

"Ay mierda," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the remaining salt out of the container. A couple specks fell onto the chicken he was cooking, barely enough to cover a millimeter of it. He turned down the heat on the stove, going over to his cupboard to rummage for some extra salt. He had everything in there, an assortment of oregano, paprika, cumin and yet, no extra containers of salt. He looked over at the electronic clock on his wall, trying to discern if he had enough time to go to the grocery store before realizing he had work in an hour.

The idea of potentially bothering his neighbor was almost enough to get him to turn around but he decided to stick it out. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That they turned out to be a serial killer and his knock on the door was the last thing that they needed to snap? Fat chance. "Just ask for some salt. It can't be that bad, right?" he muttered to himself, looking over at the door as he brought his hand to knock. He swallowed back some of his nervousness, forcing himself to bring his hand over to the wood.

Miguel knocked on his neighbor's door, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. Sounds of scuffling could be heard inside but the door remained closed. He knocked once more, hoping that this one would warrant some type of answer. "It's not a marketer or something, just your neighbor! I just need some salt!" he called out, realizing afterwards that he probably looked like a maniac shouting in front of a door. The thought of someone passing by and seeing him like this immediately made him press his lips together and wait in silence.

Miguel accepted defeat after waiting for an answer for a couple more seconds, heading back to his apartment. He didn't have enough time to rush out to get more salt without risking being late for work, deciding instead to just go ahead and make himself a microwave dinner. "Wait, sorry," he heard behind him, turning around to see his neighbor poking her head out through the door. Well, at least she didn't look like a serial killer. Still, he wouldn't let his guard down just yet.

"I have a bit of extra salt. You can come inside while I go get it," his neighbor continued, opening the door a bit wider just to let him in. The space was much more different to his own, much more full of ambiance and personality. While he used his apartment as just a place to sleep in whenever he came back home from Alchemax, he could tell that his neighbor had spent the time in making sure that this apartment was well loved.

His eyes darted down to the multiple bills scattered around in her kitchen table, his curiosity getting the better of him. Cancer treatment bills. None of them which lowered from the thousands. Tempest came back with the container of salt in hand, rushing to scoop up the papers before he saw too much. A couple of them flailed past her grip, slowly swaying from side to side before falling on the floor. Not that it helped, he already got the basic idea. Most of those were past their due date.

"Your insurance doesn't cover for some of it?" He knew he should've kept his mouth shut by the way Tempest immediately shot him a glare, but he just couldn't help himself. A part of him couldn't help but worry about the type of cancer treatment she was receiving, if any at all. Tempest let out a small huff, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to put on a tough persona, but Miguel was able to look past that.

"I don't have insurance after I had to quit my job. I'm not exactly eligible for any services either so it's been purely out of pocket. Hence the whole bills on the table thing," Tempest finally spoke after she realized that her glare wasn't affecting Miguel the way she intended.

"Well.. my work offers insurance to those couples who live together and married couples. The guarantee for it working when you're married is much higher," he spoke up after a while, leaning behind one of her kitchen seats. To think he came over for a bit of salt and now he was making a whole wedding proposal. "Should've left you outside to get your own salt," Tempest muttered, almost laughing at how insane the situation sounded. Getting married just to get the treatment she desperately needed.

"You know, people technically get married out of love. Out of convenience, maybe. But just for insurance purposes?" Tempest brought up the topic, her arms folded as her gaze scrutinized him. As hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For a stranger, of all things. A part of her felt that this wasn't just from the kindness of his heart.

"You're acting like that isn't a marriage of convenience."

"Nobody's gonna believe that we suddenly just want to get married."

"Nobody else matters."

Tempest continued to throw out a couple of excuses to try to scare away Miguel from the prospect, getting met with rather simple solutions to her concerns. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty decent at convincing her of this idea.

While you were in the shower last night, you'd gotten a message from Gabriel asking if you wanted to come over to his place. To which you agreed to eagerly. You were planning on watching romance movies for the day while shitting on them for the unrealistic expectations they set, maybe ordering a bottle of wine and pizza if you were feeling up to it.

"You couldn't have told me that you were planning on staying in Nueva York from now on?" his voice called out from the kitchen, Romeo Santos' 'Imitadora' playing in the background. He lowered the volume on his speaker when he listened to your footsteps approach, setting down the knife he had in hand. He was in a much better state than you'd expected, you were expecting to find him in a bathrobe with sunglasses on after the copious amounts of tequila he'd had last night.

"And you couldn't have told me Miguel was engaged? I almost made a fool out of myself," you countered, leaning against the counter as the different spices filled your nose. A mixture of adobo and garlic sizzling on a piece of meat he had on the stove. "You always make a fool out of yourself, though. Remember that one time you fell at the pool during my 21st birthday?" he retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter with an amused smirk on his face.

How could you not. You'd gotten more drunk than Gabriel that night, mixing up all different types of alcohol in an adventurous pursuit. You'd drunkenly called Miguel to pick you up after the night was over, stumbling over your feet when you walked over to his car. The two of you drove around most of Nueva York, though all the buildings blurred together in your inebriated state. One of the best memories that you had despite the throbbing headache that followed the next day.

The two of you ended up at a greasy burger spot on the skirts of town, though that burger had tasted like a slice of heaven the minute that it touched your tongue. You didn't remember that much about the event itself, but you could remember the overwhelming amount of safety that you felt with him. How comfortable he made you feel in his presence. How he entertained every single of your stupid remarks without much resistance, even adding onto it at times.

He'd taken off your heels and changed your clothes into something more comfortable, showing no reluctance to do so. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. You just drank too much," he whispered in your ear, his hand rubbing small circles as you were leaned over the toilet throwing up. "I'm never touching another glass of tequila again," you groaned, a lie to both yourself and Miguel. He continued to rub your back throughout the ordeal, staying by your side through it all. "Yeah, I'm sure you won't," he remarked, handing you a napkin once you were done.

Every memory that you had in Nueva York was tainted in some way by Miguel O'Hara.

"I didn't think the two of you had anything serious going on anymore, I'm sorry. I would've said something otherwise," Gabriel finally said, adding in the tomato that he'd cut along with the onion slices. Fair point. You didn't really have a reason to expect anything, not when you and Miguel were just sleeping around with no semblance of commitment. "Nah, it's fine. I shouldn't have expected that he'd just be here waiting for me," you responded, glancing over at the stove as he cooked.

You looked down at your phone, a notification ping bringing your attention to it. You weren't expecting to see a message from Miguel, surprised at the fact that he still even had your number. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your forehead upon reading the contents of the message, an invitation to his engagement party with Tempest. You debated on not going but you looked over at Gabriel and asked,

"Hey, how do you feel about going to Miguel's engagement party as my plus one?"

Tell your baby that I'm your baby

You weren't sure who was the bigger idiot in this situation. Miguel for inviting you to his engagement party or you for actually accepting it. As much as you were willing yourself to be mature throughout this situation, you didn't have this much maturity in you. His apartment was adorned in a mix of gold and yellow, a couple streamers hanging off the walls and a couple balloons bouncing around. "Maybe we should go. Get some food at the bodega," you suggested, looking over at Gabriel.

"No way, you dragged me out here now we're gonna stick it out," Gabriel's words came out muffled as he stuck a hors-d'oeuvre into his mouth that a butler was passing around. Miguel had really gone out for his engagement party. "I'll get you food from another place?" you tried another approach, hoping that maybe he would ease up this way. He pointed with his mouth over to the wide array of plates set up at a table, the good looking much more inviting than any bodega you had in mind. You really didn't have any proper reason to leave.

Gabriel left your side upon getting approached by a couple of family members, some third/fourth cousins that had been dying to see him again. You looked out from a distance to see him dancing around with them, anything that would be a nice distraction from looking around for Miguel. Your eyes always managed to find him in whatever room you were in. Not that it was too hard of a task, though. You stepped outside to catch some air, to convince yourself that you could last at least another hour at this event.

You didn't fit either of their lives anymore. As much as you desperately wished you did. The thought had come to you while you were in the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Everyone had someone else to converse with, someway of knowing each other. The thought stung more than you could've imagined, that you were still stuck on memories and a fling from the past while Miguel had been perfectly capable of moving on. The champagne that you had in your hand went down easier than the realization of the bitter truth.

"Hey," you didn't need to look behind you to recognize who'd just stood next to you, the scent of his cologne practically gave it away before he even got the chance to approach. "Hey," you returned the greeting, keeping your attention out on the night sky. "Is the party not up to your liking? You don't have to be outside, y'know," he told you, stepping just an inch closer to you. A scoff escaped from your lips before you got the chance to stop it, an incredulous look on your face when you turned to face Miguel.

"Are you seriously asking me that? You invited me to this engagement party knowing damn well about our previous history together. You didn't even bother to tell me you were engaged. If we weren't dating, then we were at the least friends."

"I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it. You and I didn't exactly have anything all that serious," Miguel realized it was the wrong thing to say upon seeing your expression, the way your face scrunched up in disbelief. The excuse had worked pretty well to get Tempest to leave it alone, so he figured that it would've worked on you too. Never had he regretted saying something so fast.

"Seriously? You think that I hooked up with you throughout these years just because you were a decent lay?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? It's not like we did a lot of talking when you came over those past couple times."

"It was because I loved you, you idiot! If it was just about the sex aspect, I would've hooked up with someone back in California!"

"I was gonna tell you at the party that I intended to stay in Nueva York this time around. So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," the words ran through Miguel like a cold bucket of water, the meaning of your words not at all lost to him. You had wanted to try again. Miguel wanted to pull you back into his arms, tell you that you were the one he envisioned having a future with. But... he didn't. He let you run off, looking at the back of your head before you eventually disappeared.

He stood at the balcony, letting himself ponder about a different alternative to this one. One where Tempest wasn't sick and didn't require his help. One where you'd never left for California, where you stayed by his side. Where the two of you would clean dishes, a cumbia playing in the background as the two of you basked in each other's presence. Where that would just be enough. Where this engagement party was for the both of you, an engagement ring on your finger. A thought that he entertained more and more often.

"Oyé, Tempest doesn't look too good," Gabriel's voice took him out of the fantasy he was in, immediately turning around and scanning inside of the apartment to see if he could find her. She looked winded, despite the fact he knew that she hadn't done much dancing tonight. "Alright, thanks," he cleared his throat, opening the glass door leading back to his apartment before going over to her. "Try to stand up for me, can you do that?" he spoke just low enough for her to hear, putting one hand on her arm.

She'd been sick for a couple weeks now, he knew that much. But he'd never seen her get this bad. The thought was enough to scare him into shooing all the guests away, rushing Tempest to the nearest hospital that he could find. "Come on, stay with me," his voice wavered, seeing the way that Tempest struggled to stay awake. Damn it, he'd never forgive himself for not taking her earlier to the hospital if she didn't get better. He put her favorite song on the radio to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

He rushed with her into the emergency room, beckoning for a nurse to come over after getting Tempest seated down on a wheelchair. She was still conscious, but she was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her breathing sounded strangled, like the action itself was causing her pain. He found himself with his head buried between her hands, praying for the first time in a couple years. The action was strange to him, but he needed to have someone to depend on in this situation.

If only he'd come when these symptoms started to present themselves.

Tempest wobbled over her feet as she made her way down the small stage that the wedding boutique had set up. Miguel let her lean her body against him, her hand tightly pressed against his chest for some kind of support. "You okay?" he'd seen her get worse these past couple of days, but he decided it'd be better not to push her too much. "Yeah, it's fine," she sounded like she'd just ran a marathon, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

It'd be better not to make a scene out in public.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" Miguel prodded as the two stepped into the apartment, helping Tempest sit down on the couch despite her protests. She did hate when she got treated like she was weak. Tempest shook his hands off, taking a sip from the water bottle that he'd brought over. He could tell she was just itching to tell him that she was fine, not that the lie would do either of them any good though. "The treatment's just taking more out of me than I expected. The one today just left me feeling particularly weak is all."

"The doctor said it should be expected, Miggy," though the nickname annoyed him to no end, he knew better than to deny a dying person this small thing. Though the excuse didn't sound too coherent to him, he decided he would handle this the way that Tempest wanted to. Instead of him reassuring her, she was doing the task instead. Miguel really needed to do a better job at being a fake fiancé. He let out a small sigh, sitting down by her side and looking over at her with concern etched across all over his features.

"Just tell me if it ever gets too serious, okay? If you ever start to feel too sick or too fatigued. I'll take you to the hospital and I'll get you the best shocking cancer treatment there is, okay?" He told her, taking the water bottle once she was done with it. "I know and I appreciate that, more than you know. But I'm fine, I'll get used to the treatment plan eventually," she responded, the two of them getting into a conversation about what they wanted to order. He always ended up getting what she wanted to regardless.

He thought she was doing better after that, but maybe she'd just done a better job at hiding her sickness away from him. He'd seen her smiling and tending to her plants, even going as far as humming to them. An activity that distracted her from the fact that she couldn't be outside for too long. Little did he know that while the flowers bloomed and thrived under her care, she was decaying with each passing day.

I'm losing by their side

The doctor's words were starting to blur into the background, something about how the treatment plan had been too aggressive. That her body couldn't take it. It all sounded the same to him, really. Just pure gibberish that was meant to rationalize the loss. "If you knew she couldn't take it then why'd you force her into such an aggressive plan?" Miguel kept his distance as he spoke, every word coming out like venom as he looked at the doctor. His hands balled up into fists but he remained in the seat where he was.

Last thing he needed was to deal with both a funeral and a bail hearing tonight.

"We thought that it was the best approach. She never complained about it," the doctor told him, keeping an even tone as he spoke. Miguel's stare was full of disgust, disgust at the way that he somehow made it sound like it was Tempest's fault. He should've gone to someone better, should've done a number of things differently. He really should've been less desperate when trying to help her. His brother's words ran through his head, so many should'ves and not enough doing. And now Tempest was no longer in his life.

The treatment plan wasn't something that was meant to heal her completely, but it was something that was meant to slow down the rate that the cancer was advancing. Instead, it'd only shortened the time that she'd been given. He blamed himself for not listening to her when she'd expressed that the medication and the levels of chemotherapy were starting to become too much, each session leaving her weaker and weaker. He blamed himself for not being able to save her even if the task was practically impossible.

He played with the engagement band that had once been on his finger, waiting absentmindedly for the doctor to come. He was still processing the fact that he wasn't going home with Tempest tonight, that he'd eventually have to go back home to an empty apartment. Nothing ran through his mind as the doctor gave him the full report of what happened, his gaze empty as he looked at the blank wall. No amount of details would change the fact that he wasn't able to save her. As hard as he tried to, he'd failed not only her, but also himself.

He couldn't bear going back home now, getting welcomed to an apartment that smelled like Tempest all around. From the cookie batter that she'd been making earlier to the scent of her perfume permeated on the couch cushions. It was all too much. Having all these little reminders with the knowledge that they'd soon fade away with time. So he found himself driving over to your place without much thought. Your presence was a calming one, one that would anchor him down to earth before he did something stupid.

Headlights flashed in a flurry of colors, the brightness on some of them almost hurting his eyes as he sped down the streets of Nueva York. "What the shock are you doing, man?!" He heard an angry driver scream behind him, a loud honk following after. He should've been more cautious, he really should've. Cars were swerving to get out of his way on the road, a train of honking following him with every red light that he disregarded. But his brain was on autopilot. His only mission was to get to you.

A distraught Miguel was not what you were expecting to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but yet here he was. His eyes were brimmed red, tears leaking out of him like a faucet as they combined with the rainfall. His grey Alchemax hoodie had turned into a darker shade, his body shaking in front of you. He hadn't even registered that you'd opened the door, his attention on a speck of dirt that laid on your doorstep.

His body clung onto you when the door swung open, holding you the same way a child would hold a teddy bear for comfort. "I couldn't save her," he babbled, his throat raw as he spoke. After the initial shock fizzled out of your body, you rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. "I tried, te lo juro que trate," he repeated as he held you close to his body, needing something to stay stagnant for now.

You stayed quiet, providing him the comfort of your presence and your touch. His shoulders shook with each sob that escaped his body, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch up to him. "I know you tried, Miguel," your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to sob, his grip on you tightening. Something to tether him to reality. "I did, I really did," he whispered, sniffling before more tears began to roll down his cheeks. You'd never seen him cry this much before. Never seen him cry ever, actually.

You set the cup of tea down, his hands shaking as he reached over to grab it. A couple drops fell onto the floor when he tried to get a good grasp on it. "I'm sorry, I know I'm making a mess out of your apartment," he'd made a wet spot on your couch after taking a seat, not that it was your first concern at the moment. "Hey, no. You've got nothing to apologize for," you assured him, taking a seat next to him.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it as he took a sip from the chamomile tea that you'd brought over. His throat bobbed as he struggled to keep it down. A part of him was convinced that he didn't deserve to be treated this way, with such care and delicacy. After he'd treated you like something disposable, as something that didn't matter. But he couldn't help and be selfish, enjoy the feeling of having your concern directed towards him. Of having you still care about him.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, his cheeks completely tear-streaked as he looked up from the floor over to you. He got up from the couch, taking off the wet hoodie that was practically pasted onto his body by now. "I have some clothes that you can borrow," you told him, seeing the hesitation in his face as he debated on taking off the rest of his moist clothing.

You took out a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that he'd let you borrow one time after staying at his place a couple years back. A pair of clothes that you told yourself you'd throw away time and time again, only to let them reside in the back of your cabinet. You were thankful that your reluctance to move on really paid off in this moment. You made your way over to the living room, not feeling comfortable with leaving him alone for too long while he was feeling like this.

You passed him the dry set of clothes, picking up the wet pieces from the floor before leaving to the kitchen to give him some time to change. You set the dry clothes in the dryer, starting up the first round before walking back over to the living room. Miguel's movements seemed delayed as he struggled to put his shirt on, like his brain wasn't communicating properly with his body at the moment. "Here, I got you," you instinctively found yourself needing to help him, pulling the shirt down to cover him up.

He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing right on your floor.

You'd grabbed a blanket over from a closet, placing it down on the couch cushion next to him as well as a plush pillow. "Try to get some rest, okay?" you told him, shutting off the light before starting to make your way back into your bedroom. "Do you mind staying here with me tonight?" his voice was unnaturally quiet. You were sure you would've missed it had you not been paying attention. You weren't sure what the protocol was for sleeping with somewhat of an ex but you decided to oblige.

His arm snaked around your waist in an attempt to hold you close, his body heat practically radiating onto your own body. His body shook behind you but he made no noise, an occasional sniffle here and there. It pained you to see him this upset, without being able to do much other than just offer him your comfort. You wanted to be able to take away his pain despite how upset he'd made you these past couple months. It pained you to see him so helpless, so willing to blame himself despite not having any actual fault in it.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when Miguel's body finally fell slack, snores the sound of lawnmower escaping from his lips. Every time that you tried to adjust his body, the grip he had around you tightened in an attempt to keep you in place. He couldn't bare to lose you too. Even if it was just for a couple seconds. You shut you eyes, trying to will yourself into falling asleep. After a while, you just stopped trying and let yourself get consumed into sleep.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie

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osachiyo · 2 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — fem!reader, aphrodisiac, masturbation, unprotected sex, begging, insatiable reader, honorifics (sir), dom! dottore • this is for @dazaisslave !! so sorry for getting to it this late, tysm for being patient with me ichika :3 apologies if he's ooc, this is my first time writing for him :) happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! minors dni

DOTTORE never expected to see such an.. interesting spectacle when he walked into his lab. There you were, perched on top of his table — some of the vials of who-knows-what knocked over to the ground. Small whines and moans of his name escaped your glossy lips, while two of your fingers plunged in and out of your drooling cunt in a rapid pace, the small digits seemingly not enough to fulfill your craving.

"and what do we have here..?" the masked man smirked, clearly amused by the alluring view you had to offer. your head snapped up in dottore's direction, clearly shocked to see your lover standing in the doorway.

"don't tell me you're shocked to see me, pet — what do you think you're doing in my lab, hm?" his lips parted to reveal a sinister grin, teeth glinting from the dim lighting of the room. "dottore, i —" you struggled to find the right words. what the hell were you supposed to say? that you sneaked in his lab to see what he was working on, then accidentally knocked over a vial with bright pink substance in it and suddenly started feeling dizzy and hot? like hell he'd buy that.

as if the man could read your mind, he stepped closer to the broken glass on the floor — a sigh leaving his thin lips, "what you knocked over, my darling, was a vial of aphrodisiac," he grumbled with slight annoyance, now looking up at you through his mask. "a very strong kind, to be clear."

oh.

well that explained why you were feeling so.. hot all of a sudden — but that didn't make it much better. the aphrodisiac was strong indeed, so strong that even the doctor himself could feel himself succumb to it, pale face flushing as his breaths get heavier, it didn't help that you looked to damn ravishing too — staring up at him through those pretty tear-soaked lashes, a pout settled on your lips — it made him want to bend you over his table and —

"f-fuck, hold still, pet —" dottore groaned, hips slamming against your plush ass from behind, gloved fingers digging deep into your hips to keep you in place. but how could he blame you? you were practically buzzing with arousal — hearts floating in your eyes as you drooled all over his desk.

"feels — mmh-! s'good," you slurred, a dumb smile finding it's way to your swollen lips when dottore sped up his pace, landing cruel slaps on your ass while you both get closer to your highs.

fuck, the damn aphrodisiac was taking its affect on him too — making his cock extra leaky and sensitive than usual, causing him to go even harder, and groan even louder into your ear. both of your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, dottore's hands finding your tits to pull and tweak at your nipples, before landing a mean slap on them, making you cry out in pained pleasure.

"f-faster — sir, please —!" dottore let out a guttural groan at the honorific, speeding his hips up at your request — broken moans leaving the both of you as he did.

"cum f'me, girl," dottore growled against your skin, palm of his gloved hand pushing your back further down into a mean arch — your ass bouncing with each thrust. as if right on cue, you squirted all over his cock, and the harbinger followed not long after — muttering curses in the snezhnayian language whilst spilling his load inside of you.

you two stayed like that, dottore's face buried in your neck — breathing in your sweet smell, pants leaving each other.

"..ain.."

dottore quirked an eyebrow, moving his face away — "come again?"

you looked back at him, eyes glazed over with lust and lashes clumping with dried tears, voice breathless as you let out a pitiful whimper — "again, fuck me again! — fill me up."

#𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒... ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #dottore smut #dottore x reader #dottore x reader smut #dottore #il dottore #il dottore smut #il dottore x reader #il dottore x reader smut

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chosopie · 15 days

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DEALER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

cw: mentions of drugs

“It’s twenty thousand yen now,” you puff a ring of smoke to his scrunched up face.

“What the fuck? It was only ten thousand last time. Are you trying to fuck with me?” Sukuna clicked his tongue and looked away, trying his best to contain his frustration.

“Supply is getting expensive and I’ve got bills to pay,” you sighed.

“I don’t got enough on me right now,” he dug his hands into his pockets. “Can’t you give me a discount, doll? I’m a loyal customer.”

Doll. Did he really think he could sweet-talk his way out of this?

“No.”

“Come on,” Sukuna moved closer, placing his hand on the side of your arm and running them up and down. “Ten thousand and a little something else.”

You laughed. “What could that possibly be?”

Despite your desire for money, there were other things you desperately wanted. You were searching for a different kind of high no other drug could give you.

Sukuna’s face was now buried between your thighs while you were seated on the back seat of his car. His tongue aggressively swiped your folds, licking every droplet of your sweet juice. He was attached to your the same way a bee would be attached to a flower, drinking up the nectar until it was full; except, he was never full. He knew no limits.

If there was one thing Sukuna was known for, it was his appetite. He wasn’t just a foodie, he was also a munch. He ate you out like a starved man. He would nip and suck on your aching clit, leaving you shaking and breathless. Your hands gripped his messy pink hair and tugged on them while his name dripped out of your mouth along with some breathy moans.

You were so overwhelmed with pleasure, you felt your legs grow weak. You tried to close them, but Sukuna would force them open again. Every time you’d move, he’d stop and bite on the plump flesh of your thigh, leaving red teeth marks on them.

“So close to cumming,” you panted, drool running down your lip.

Sukuna smirked and wiped the spit off the corner of your lip. “Guess you didn’t need the other ten thousand after all.”

“Shut up. I’m charging you more next time.��

“Sure you will,” he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

His pace had quickened, and he put more pressure onto your poor clit. He kept licking and sucking, your juice smeared all over the bottom half of his face. His hands were firmly planted on your thighs, gripping them so tight his nails started digging into your skin. Your eyes were shut as you felt your climax coming, a warm and tight feeling swirled around your stomach and you couldn’t stop your legs from shaking. Sukuna groaned against your core, his tongue quickly working its way around your pussy.

“Fuck, ‘Kuna. Can’t hold it anymore.”

“Just cum on my face, pretty girl.”

Sukuna pushed his face deeper, his nose slightly nudging you while he continued to drag his tongue across your pussy. You moaned and squirmed as you reached your high, making a mess on Sukuna’s pretty face, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m looking forward to our next deal,” Sukuna winked at you and slipped another roll of cash into your pocket.

tags: @torureadz

#rev.writes #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk sukuna

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marvelfilth · 8 months

Text

Off the deep end 4 (18+)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, strap on sex, praise, r gets tied up, pet names, spanking (like once), canon typical violence, blood, stabbing

Summary: "Take off my mask"

A/n: ...I'm sorry

Masterlist

Ghostface sits on the loveseat, her legs crossed and her posture entirely relaxed as she playfully taps her knife against the glass of your coffee table.

You take a second to gather your courage and lunge.

She's too gobsmacked to react, and in less than a second you have her pinned against the back of the loveseat, a knife pressing against her neck.

"The bodega. Was it you? Because if it was, I'll gut you myself," you growl.

You feel her shaky exhale before she drops her knife to the floor, turning you around in a split second and pinning you down with her weight. Your knife is still dangerously close to her neck, but you don't think she cares, with the way she grabs your waist possessively.

"Fuck," she breathes out, caressing your waist.

"Let me go," you hiss, pushing against her chest with your other hand.

She uses this moment to push your hand away from her throat, clutching it in her strong grip, your knife dangling uselessly between your fingertips.

"There's no way I'm letting you go, baby. No fucking way." She's breathless, her chest heaving heavily as she pushes you deeper into the cushions.

"I'm not your baby," you growl, trying to push her away. "You think you can just show up here after almost killing my friends? I don't care what kind of vigilante bullshit you've got going on, they're off limits." You buckle against her, growing red in the face when she doesn't move an inch.

She tilts her head, seemingly taking you in. She stays silent way too long for your liking, just breathing heavily and observing you, shifting her grip on your wrist. The action reminds you that your other hand is still around her shoulder, clutching it hard enough to leave half moons on her skin even through multiple layers of fabric.

"Go ahead," she whispers, "try."

You wonder how the fuck does she know what you're about to do.

Still, your hand moves slowly, and you don't dare look away from the black hollow eyes of the mask, swallowing when you finally come in contact with the heated skin of her neck. You don't waste another moment and grip, cutting off her airway. She expected it, clearly, but she still lets you send both of you tumbling to the floor. She lands with a huff, your thighs straddling her hips, and now that your roles are reversed you feel a sense of power over her, no matter how fleeting it might be.

Her pulse is erratic against your fingers, but she stays still, not moving an inch, and speaks up, "I came here to punish you, you know? I told you to stay home. Our home." You freeze, gaping at her. "I thought you learned your lesson that first time, but no, you decide to play hero and go off on your own in the middle of the fucking night," she growls, easily throwing you off her body. You sit on the floor, not daring to move as she removes her voice changer.

There's no need for that - you already know who's behind the mask.

"Take off my mask," Sam orders and you tremble at the commanding tone, hesitantly reaching up to remove the plastic.

There's no color in her eyes, only black of her pupils. She's panting, her expression pure lust. She looks you up and down slowly, gaze lingering on the knife between your fingers. You let it fall on the floor with a dull thump and she smiles dangerously, lifting her eyes. "Now take off your clothes."

You whimper, clumsily following the order as she drinks you up with her eyes, kneeled on the floor. When you're left naked she rummages in the pockets off her robe, pulling something out before carelessly shrugging it off and throwing it to the side.

"Come here," she pats her lap, leaning back against the foot of the couch. You do so quickly, stifling a whimper when your core brushes against her leg. She pulls you into a bruising kiss, all teeth and bite as your hips start rocking on her thigh, chasing pleasure. You grip the cushions behind her back, arching in her hold before you feel her push your hands away and lead them behind your back. She tries them up with something silky and smooth, probably a scarf, tugging to check if it's tight enough.

"So you don't jump me again," she chuckles and you grow embarrassingly wet, stifling a whimper at her degrading tone. "I only wanted to scare you that night when I visited you for the first time. Wanted to make sure you listen to me next time, but there you were, in a fucking towel. I wanted you for so long and you were right there, ready for me to take." She pushes on your hips, and you throw your head back, letting out a loud moan when you feel a bulge in her pants. "But this time… you pinned me down, put a knife to my throat. Remember what you said?" She husks, cupping the back of your head and forcing you to look at her. You nod dazedly, nails dig into your palms, trying to keep in your pathetic whimpers. She plants her hands on your cheeks. "Say it again."

You close your eyes and arch into her body, your breasts practically in her face. "I said I'd gut you- not you, I- I'd kill the person who tried to hurt you and Tara."

She lets out a deep breath that sounds like a moan and reaches behind you. "You'd kill for me?" She pants.

You nod against her lips. "Yes."

She growls, a sound so deep and primal it makes you shudder, and shows you the mask. "Then I think you should put this on, don't you?" You don't dare move an inch, watching as she puts the mask on your face with hunger in her eyes. Her thigh pushes between your legs, making you whimper. "Sam- please…"

"Perfect." She chuckles, trailing a hand trailing over your breasts, slowly, teasingly. "You love it, don't you? That's why you never said anything. I killed everyone who tried to hurt you and you fucking love it."

"Yes. Fuck, yes, Sam," you gasp grinding on her thigh. You can't take your eyes off her. Sweat drips down the valleys between her breasts, disappearing behind her thin tank top, pulling your attention to her perky nipples. You'd kill for a chance to taste them.

"My dirty girl, fucking perfect for me." She leans down and places long kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin. Your breasts brush and you arch into her, chasing the feeling, but she merely chuckles before forcing your legs open and plunging two fingers inside with no warning. Your hands jerk and you hiss when the movement makes the scarf tighten, hurting your wrists. Sam chuckles into your neck before biting down, leaving a deep purple mark as you struggle to hold back a moan. "Don't," she hisses, "don't you dare hold back." She thrusts into you mercilessly, tugging your nipple between her teeth.

You want to throw your arms around her shoulders and hide your face in her hair, pulling her incredibly close, but your hands lay limp behind your back and the mask on your face makes it impossible to feel the softness of her hair. You look at her through the dark hollows, gasping for breath when she adds a third finger, almost falling back on the floor, trying to ride her, moving your hips up and down.

You feel pressure building in your lower belly and you tell Sam you're close, moaning her name as she fastens her pace before she abruptly pulls out, leaving you to whine uselessly.

She gets up from the floor with you in her arms and throws you over her shoulder, heading to your bedroom. Her palm settles on your ass, squeezing possessively as she shoulders your door before carelessly throwing you on the bed, making you bounce on the mattress. There's shuffling of fabric before she quickly unties your wrists. You sigh, flexing the strained muscles, and then you're rolled on your back, moaning when you see her fully naked. You let out a heavy breath, looking at Sam towering over you, her abs clenched as her fingers wrap around her strap. You unconsciously spread your legs, shuffling higher to settle on the pillows.

"Hands on the headboard," she orders, picking up the scarf from the floor. You put your hands over your head and she makes quick work of tying them up again, giving your nipple a painful squeeze as her hand slides down your torso to your dripping pussy.

"Please, Sam," you plead, grinding on her palm.

She hums and straddles your thigh, her sex flush against the muscle, smearing wetness. She grinds on you messily, losing herself in pleasure, and you're left to marvel at the sight. Her abs clench each time her pussy slides over your flesh, chest rising rapidly. She closes her eyes and throws her head back, moaning loudly. You whimper, trying to find friction against her thigh. She looks down at you in ecstasy, breathing through her open mouth as she messily humps your leg.

"Fuck, you look so good," you whimper, thinking you could come just from watching her. She chuckles lowly, coating you in her arousal and her strap bumps against your clit, making your hips jerk.

"You want it?" She taunts, halting her movements and positioning herself between your parted thighs. Your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against you before you answer. "I want you," you whimper, feeling the tip of her cock nudge against your entrance.

"You have me, baby," she says, before snapping her hips forward, burying the thick length in your wet heat. "How does that feel, hm?"

You moan, hips buckling in her hold. "So good, Sam, you feel so good."

She hums and starts thrusting slowly, placing fleeting kisses over your chest before she leans back, her fingers wrapping around your ankles to throw them over her shoulders. "Keep them open for me," she says and returns her hands to your hips, pressing you into the bed, picking up the pace.

She mercilessly pounds into your pussy, the wet slapping sound echoing through your room. You moan, throwing your head back, making the mask skew a little before it's ripped off your face. "Want to see your pretty face when you come," she breathes, pressing on the bulge on your lower belly. "You're taking my cock so well, princess. Such a good girl." Her praises reach your ears, but you barely make them out amidst mind-blowing pleasure.

"S-sam! Fuck, I'm close," you moan, helplessly tugging on the restraints. Sam starts rubbing your clit and you feel your orgasm build up, making you arch your back off the bed.

"You're gonna scream for me, baby," she pants, fastening her pace, her strap burying in your tight cunt to the hilt, her thumb playing with your swollen nub of nerves.

You come with a loud cry of her name, your walls clenching around the silicone cock as she continues pounding into you at an animalistic pace, drilling you into the bed. Your bed shakes, the headboard steadily smashing against the wall as she makes it her mission to lead you to another orgasm. Your tears roll down your cheeks, blurring the sight of her lust filled eyes, looking down at you like she's about to consume you whole.

"Such a good pussy, all mine to use," she purrs, throwing your legs off her shoulders and rolling you onto your side, the changing of the angle making her strap reach deeper into you. Her hand settles over your thigh, gripping possessively before she lets go to land a slap on your ass, her other hand pressing down on the side of your head.

"Yours, a-all yours ah-," you cry out, feeling your climax approach, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

She leans over your body to whisper in your ear. "You're mine. Say it."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she buries her strap in you again and again, hitting your sensitive spot. "Yours, I'm yours."

She bites down on the curve of your shoulder to hide her moan as she reaches her high, taking you over the edge with her. Your vision goes white, your cunt clenching around her cock, your wetness coating the sheets under you.

She slumps beside you, lazily untying the scarf and massaging your arms before slowly pulling out and pushing you to lay on top of her. "We're not done yet, baby," she whispers into your hair and pulls you into a deep kiss.

×××

A piercing ringing sound wakes you up, making you roll out of Sam's warm embrace and fall on the floor in a heap of sheets with a dull thump. You groan, sending her a finger when she snorts and finally picks up her phone. Your carpeted floor feels too fluffy to get up and move back to bed, your eyes falling shut as Sam speaks with her sister. You slowly drift off, teetering on the edge of consciousness when Sam picks you up and gently lowers you back on the bed, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth before disappearing behind the bathroom door. You burrow into her pillow, the sound of running water lulling you back to sleep.

Next time you wake up to gentle caresses, smiling, not fully awake yet, but not asleep either. You feel her lips stretch in a smile when she starts kissing the side of your neck, her breath tickling, making you giggle.

You finally open your eyes when she calls out your name, coaxing you to get up. You pout and try to tug her back to bed, but she narrowly escapes your grip, chuckling when you frown.

"It's past noon, time to get up. Tara's been worried out of her mind," she says and checks her phone when it dings, groaning as she reads the text. "They're all waiting back home. I hate these kids sometimes."

You snort, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "I bet Mindy made everyone come cause she has some theory to share."

She laughs quietly as she types a response, and looks back at you. "Breakfast is almost ready and you better be dressed when I come back. And don't even try covering these up." She gestures to your neck with her forefinger and you instinctively reach up to touch your sore skin.

She's out of the door before you could complain, leaving you to stew in now cold sheets. You don't test your luck though, and rush to take a shower and dress when you hear her in the kitchen.

You get ready in record time, walking into the kitchen right when she starts putting plates on the table. Your mouth waters when a delicious smell hits your nose, and when she pulls out a chair for you, you rush to her side to press a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you," you whisper.

She hums, pushing your hair to one side when you sit and presses a kiss to your neck. "My girlfriend deserves the best," she breathes, making you shudder.

You find the strength to object. "You didn't even ask if I want to be your girlfriend."

She pauses, frowning. "You don't?"

You bite back a smile at her confused expression, pulling her down for a proper kiss. "It doesn't hurt to ask."

She huffs, and walks around the table to take a seat, looking you right in the eye as she replies. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," you mumble, growing embarrassingly red, and dive in the food, biting back a moan at the taste. She hums in approval, swiping some sauce for the corner of your mouth. "Good girl."

×××

You ask the question that's been nagging at your mind for the past few days when you're getting ready to leave. "So… there are at least two, right?"

"Hm?"

"Ghostface. One called and the other one attacked you at the bodega."

She shrugs, "I guess."

You frown, noting her lack of reaction. "When I got the call they said they knew your secret."

She walks up to you and puts her hands around your waist. "It doesn't matter. They still haven't told anyone and that means they want to deal with me themselves."

You nod. It makes sense, but you're still worried. The possibility of her dying or going behind bars makes your skin crawl.

"Hey," she caresses your cheek, "it'll be okay, I promise, just… you're with me, right?"

Your lips press against her palm. "Always."

You enter the building an hour later, darting inside quickly, Sam checking every corner before she lets you pass. You walk quietly, heading for the elevators when a man stops in your way, smiling at Sam. You expect her to ignore him or maybe even push him out of the way, but she rolls her eyes good-naturally and greets him with a hug, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Who's this?" You ask, eyes darting between Sam and the man, and you decide you don't like him at all.

He looks… adequate, tall and obviously muscular, his eyes bright blue. He also looks dangerous, like a guy you'd avoid at parties. But then again Sam looks dangerous too, so you probably shouldn't judge him too quickly.

"Danny. Our neighbor," she introduces you and he smiles, extending his hand.

You take it, his fingers wrapping around yours with gentle, but firm squeeze. You mutter your name, looking him up and down. You've never seen him before and you've spent weeks at Sam's place by now.

"I don't think I've ever seen you before."

He chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "I'm not surprised. I work at night, sleep through the day."

You nod, feeling Sam's eyes on you. "Yeah, that must be it," you mumble.

She nudges you to the elevators, bidding Danny goodbye. You follow her, chewing on your lip.

No, you decide, you definitely don't like him.

"What was that?" Sam asks with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Jealous?"

You scoff. "You wish."

She hums in agreement, but sports a smug smile all the way to her front door. Tara greets you both with a hug the second you step inside the apartment, eyeing you worriedly. Sam shrugs her off with a calming smile, urging her into the kitchen. You bite back a smile when Tara begrudgingly follows, muttering something about Sam and her stress cooking.

Mindy and Anika are cuddled up on the couch, too busy gossiping about their new professor to notice you. Chad gives you a small wave, scooting to give you space to sit. The hug he gives you is warm and reassuring and you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, noting the absence of Quinn and Ethan.

"Quinn's in her room and Ethan has Econ," he mumbles, noticing your questioning look. You nod, and relax against his shoulder, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

Sam and Tara chatter as they cook something, judging by the smell it's Sam's famous grilled cheese. Your mouth waters even though you ate not that long ago, remembering the taste. You sneak a glance in their direction and see them laughing. The shorter girl shoves Sam hard, but your girlfriend doesn't budge, eyes rolling at the sisters' antics.

You wish you could stay like this forever.

Mindy finally looks away from her girlfriend, eyebrows jumping up when she sees you. "Where have you been?"

You groan, feeling the way Chad's shoulders shake with laughter. "She won't let it go, just roll with it," he whispers.

"She was with me, Mindy, don't even start," Sam shouts from the kitchen, twirling a knife between her fingers. The sight makes something inside of you catch on fire.

"Gross," Mindy grumbles and whines when Anika leaves her, choosing to sit on your other side.

You share a laugh, your friend molding against your side. They put on a movie, not a slasher, thank god, and you settle deeper into the cushions as you watch, putting your hand around Anika's shoulders and sending Mindy a smug look. She rolls her eyes, huffing, and crosses her arms, turning to look at the screen with her lips jutted out. Sam and Tara join you when they're finally done, your girlfriend sending Chad and Anika a glare before she settles on the floor with a pout, a mirror image of Mindy. You bite on your lower lip, suppressing a smile. Screen flashes brightly and you dive into the story unfolding, forgetting about the real world for a few hours.

You nod off when you're almost halfway through the sequel, now flat against Sam's front as you both sit on some cushions on the floor, Mindy having thrown you away from her girlfriend when she came back with more snacks. Sam's arms find home around your waist, keeping you trapped between her legs as she presses soft kisses all over the side of your face. She shushes everyone and lowers the volume once she finally notices you've fallen asleep, snatching Mindy's blanket to cover your feet.

When you open your eyes some time later, expecting to see credits rolling or another movie playing, you see a murder report, sirens in the background wailing loudly, a likely cause of your abrupt awakening. You frown, struggling to make out words with your mind still half asleep, but when you hear your girlfriend's name your focus becomes laser like. Everyone in the room listens with rapt attention to every word falling from the reporter's mouth, Sam nudging you away and stomping to the kitchen once murder acquisitions are made known.

You swallow, looking at Sam's hunched figure, your throat suddenly dry. Tara elbows you and throws her chin in Sam's direction, eyes widening in an attempt at silent communication. You nod and follow her, both of you taking a seat on either side of the dejected woman.

"Sam?" Tara hesitantly speaks up. "None of what they said matters. We'll get that motherfucker and people will know the truth. They'll see you how we see you." She places her hand on top of Sam's, squeezing.

You bite on your lower lip when Sam's face crumbles at her sister's words, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "And what if they're right?" She croaks, turning to look at her sister. "What if they see me for what I really am and you're the one who's wrong?"

Tara opens her mouth, fire in her eyes, but you beat her to it. "She's right," you state, Sam snapping back to look at you. "You did what you had to do before. They'll never understand it, but we do. You're good, Sam, everyone in this room knows it."

Mindy and Chad take a seat across the table, worriedly eyeing your girlfriend, but her eyes are on you, latching onto every word that leaves your lips.

"Do you really think so?" She whispers and you can see the hidden insecurity behind her irises. This feels like a conversation you should be having in private, away from Mindy's piercing eyes and Tara's attentiveness.

Your lips press against hers before you whisper quietly, only for her to hear. "I know so. You saved me, remember?"

Tension seeps away as she pulls you into another kiss, lips moving gently against your own, tongue sliding across your bottom lip before Mindy forces you apart by fake gagging.

Tara pulls her into a hug, somehow fitting her older sister in the slope of her neck. "Shut it, Mindy." She glares at the girl.

Mindy throws her arms up in mock surrender and Chad takes this moment to say, "That's right. We're the core four, we've been through worse."

Sam loudly snorts into Tara's shoulder, making the girl grimace. "The core what?" Mindy's side eye burns through him.

"The core four. You know, cause we've been through a lot. Plus, it sounds cool."

"It really doesn't," you chuckle.

"And there's five of us, dingus, six if we count Anika," the twin sister points out.

"Yeah, but Y/n isn't Woodsboro and neither is Anika..." he trails off, looking to the side. "Core four and a half? Core four and plus ones?"

Mindy rolls her eyes so hard you're afraid they might stick to the back of her head. "Just shut up."

You get up to get a glass of water for Sam after making sure she's fine, dropping your phone on the table and heading to the kitchen. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you hear Quinn and her latest boy toy going at it again, and open the fridge, scanning for a bottle of water.

Suddenly, the apartment grows quiet before chaos takes over.

"Y/n!" Sam shouts loudly, and you run back, her fingers immediately latching onto your wrist with a tight grip. She shows you a message on her phone, a photo of Ghostface holding Quinn by the throat in her room.

You freeze with a baited breath, eyes pinned to the door. Pained wails from behind the wall make you dart to the door, throwing Sam's hand away from yours. You open the door before she pushes you behind her back, obscuring the view, but you still catch a glimpse of Quinn's limp body being thrown at Anika.

Your friends scream and scutter around the apartment, Ghostface hot on your heels. Sam's hand finds yours again, pulling you behind Chad and Tara, Mindy and Anika following close by, but Ghostface is faster, rounding you up, Sam's hand slipping from your grasp as he shuts the front door right in your face, cutting you away from Sam, Tara and Chad. The door starts shaking from the force of Sam's efforts, but you know it's useless - she made sure nothing could get through that door when they moved in. You duck when the robed figure slashes at you, nipping your shoulder. Mindy shouts something about knives from the kitchen and runs up to clock Ghostface with a knife holder, throwing him off his feet. Anika tugs you back into Quinn's room and you stumble on her body, almost falling into a puddle of blood, but Mindy is right there on your other side, shoving you behind the door and quickly locking it.

The three of you lean on the door, feet planted firmly on the floor as Ghostface tries to knock it down. The hinges squeak from the force, dust falling on your shoulders as you pant heavily, thinking of a way out. You look around the room, trying to find some sort of weapon, but the only thing somewhat fitting your requirements is a bedside lamp, glowing mockingly with a pinkish hue. The rattling stops, and your panic increases tenfold. Your eyes land on Mindy's, her face growing pale as she looks at something over your shoulder before she forces you back and throws herself at the bathroom door with a scream.

The dark figure easily throws the door open, slicing her bicep to the bone. The girl falls to the floor, clutching the deep cut, unaware of the hand raised over her head, ready to land the final blow. Anika launches herself at the killer, kicking and screaming, as you dart for the fucking lamp, clutching it in your sweaty palm, ready to knock the hooded person unconscious. You turn around just in time to see your friend's stomach being sliced open, a guttural scream ripping from her throat.

She falls to the ground and you swing the lamp as hard as you can, sending Ghostface back to the bathroom and snapping the door shut right in his face. You sit, propped against the door, frantically looking around for something to block it with. Mindy presses down on Anika's stomach, there's so much blood it's going to make you sick.

You turn away, blinking back tears, your eyes landing on the dresser.

"Mindy," you croak, "Mindy we need to prop it against the door." She looks at you, then at the dresser and back to Anika, who nods, schooling her features.

You move in tandem, you still holding the door, with Ghostface now trying to knock it down, and her pushing the dresser firmly against the door. You sag once it's in place, picking up on distant shouts.

"Y/n!" Sam calls from the window across, a leader clutched between her and Danny. You let out a relieved laugh, securing the ladder on the windowsill. "That's it, baby, now come here," she urges, a desperate look in her eyes.

You shake your head, looking back at Mindy and Anika, and at the shaking door. "They're injured, Sam. They'll go first." She looks like she wants to protest, but relents once she sees the look in your eyes.

"Just one at a time," Danny speaks up.

You nod before turning back and taking a place on the floor, gently pressing down on Anika's wound, your hands turning red mere seconds later. You fight the urge to gag, looking at your friends through the tears. "You first, Mindy."

Mindy looks up, scandalized. "I'm not leaving her," she gritts.

"M-Mindy," Anika whimpers, clutching your wrists.

"No."

"You'll get there quick and I'll be right behind you, o-okay?" The girl stutters, pleading with her eyes.

"Then you go first," Mindy sniffles, "I'll hold it steady and wait till you get across."

You close your eyes, your whole body jostling from the force of Ghostfaces efforts. Your friend is losing more and more blood, coating the floor and your clothes, making you shudder. Sam starts shouting again, screaming for one of you to finally go. You look at Mindy, whispering, "You have to go."

"I'll just s-slow you down. Just go, please, just g-go." Anika begs, tears rolling down her face. Mindy nods resolutely and you look away, giving them some resemblance of privacy as they share a heartfelt kiss.

Mindy grabs your collar, forcing you to look at her when they're done. "You get her out, understand?"

You nod, watching as she looks at her girlfriend one last time and hurries to the ladder, hesitantly climbing on.

"You'll go next," Anika whispers, closing her eyes.

Your head whips back, eyes wide as you look at your friend's pale face. "I'm not fucking leaving you, An. We stick together, remember?"

She chuckles humorlessly, the sound turning into a wheeze. "I don't want you d-dying with me."

You swallow back a sob, knowing that the open wound is looking worse with each passing second, her fingers so weak she can barely hold onto your hand, let alone a ladder.

She looks like she knows what you're thinking about, smiling gently. "I'll h-hold him off. I still have some fight in me."

You shake your head, blinking back tears, and look out the window to see Mindy's almost halfway to the other side. You think and think and think, because there has to be something, there must be a way. There's probably some sort of weapon in Sam's room, but you're not sure if you'll make it back in time or if you'll be able to fight off Ghostface. You can feel the door almost give out, crossing out the options of just staying there and waiting for the police to arrive.

Anika pushes your hands away and you blink back at her. "Go," she whispers, fighting back tears. "We b-both know I won't make it across that ladder."

You shake your head, realization dawning on you. "The front door," you mutter, "An, it's locked from the inside! And that fucker won't even hear you through all that noise. You can make it to the elevators. You can!"

She freezes, eyes darting between the door and the window, you can see a glimpse of hope appear. "I can," she nods, "but what about you?"

You swallow. "I'll hold him off and go for the ladder when he breaks down the door. I promise, I'll get out."

She looks like she wants to argue, but Mindy's triumphant shout as she finally lands on the floor makes her nod quietly. You don't have time to argue, you both know it.

"Anika!" Mindy urges and you can hear Sam cursing loudly.

The wounded girl nods solemnly and pads to the door that leads to the hallway, unlocking it quietly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mindy yells.

Sam doesn't say anything and shoves Mindy out of the way, ready to climb the goddamn ladder, Danny holding her back by her shoulders.

"No!" You shout, looking back to see Anika already in the hallway. "Anika's going and I'm next. Trust me, please."

Sam looks at you, a silent question in her eyes, you shake your head, hoping she'll listen. She sags. "Okay."

You exhale in relief, turning to watch Anika as she trudges through the living room, back aching from continuing shoves.

Minutes tickle by, Mindy disappears from view to go to the living room, watching her girlfriend through the window. You hold on, heels of your feet firmly on the floor, but you can already feel your strength starting to slip.

Anika is nowhere to see, so you turn to Sam, a question on your tongue.

"You can go now," she nods. "C'mon, babe, hurry." She stretches one arm out, the other holding the ladder tightly. Danny is by her side, pushing all of his weight to their end of the ladder.

You get up and run for the window, the dresser now pushed against the wall, the door wide open. Your foot slips on the windowsill, but you manage to hold on, all of your body now on the ladder, looking down at the street below. You start trembling violently, now understanding why Mindy took so long to get across. Sam's eyes are on you the whole time and when you finally look up she offers an encouraging nod, jaw clenched in concentration as she watches your every move.

Her eyes land on something behind you and you freeze, hair on the back of your neck standing up. You don't have to look back to know Ghostface is standing there, but you still do, ignoring Sam's yelling and the tremble in your arms. He stands there, motionless, head tilted in silent curiosity. The ladder squeaks, and your sweaty palms make your grip slip, but you hold on, looking at the killer.

There's a dull sound just outside the apartment that makes him look back at the door and then at you again. His head tilts to the other side as he puts on a show of counting each of you, five fingers up, curling them one by one after he points at you, then Sam, Danny and finally Mindy. He looks at the only finger left, his pinky, and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"No," you breath out, already climbing back.

He raises a hand, waving you goodbye playfully, gloved fingers wiggling around the sharp knife.

"Get here right now!" Sam shouts, halfway out of the window, but you're out of her grasp. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

You shake your head again, stumbling back inside Quinn's room as the ladder falls down to the street below, Sam's screams filling your ears as you run after Ghostface.

"Anika!" You shout when the elevator is finally in sight, Anika holding on to the railing and Ghostface slipping inside.

You run at full speed, but you still don't make it in time, doors sliding closed as he buries the knife deep into her chest, making you run flat into the metal, Anika's screams echoing through the apartment building. You wipe away your tears and turn for the stairs, jumping five at a time as you make it down to the first floor. You see the back door fall shut after a figure runs out, panic overtaking as you finally face the elevator.

You've never seen that much blood in your life. The walls are covered in splashes of red, the floor just a puddle of dark liquid. Anika wheezes, choking on her blood. You fall to your knees beside her, afraid to touch her fragile body, cuts and stabs littering her torso. Your vision blurs. You don't even know which wound to press on, all of them gushing with blood. In the end you press your palms to the deep cut on her chest, sobbing when more blood starts spilling from other gashes.

She gathers the last of her strength and grips the hem of your shirt. "T-thank you," she wheezes, more blood trailing down her chin.

"What?" You breathe out, choking. "It's my fault. I should've made you climb that fucking ladder."

"I- I would've f-fell." She takes a shallow breath. "Brains a-all over the s-street." She grimaces, gripping you tighter. "This way I get to be with my f-friend for the… for the last time." She smiles, eyes growing hazy and unfocused before they fall shut, her chest no longer rising with ragged breaths.

You wail, desperately shaking her body, begging her to open her eyes. You center your hands on her chest and start pressing to the beat of fucking Stayin' Alive. You follow the steps that have been drilled into your brain on one of the courses you took, pinching Anika's nose and breathing into her mouth, waiting to see the rise of her chest. You repeat it again and again and again, hitting her chest with full force in a hopeless attempt at bringing her back to life.

Arms circle around your shoulders, your body immobilized by a person behind you. You try to throw them off, pushing with your elbows, Anika's unmoving chest the only thing you see.

"Stop," Sam croaks, pulling you against her chest.

"Get off me!" You scream. "I need to- I need-" you sob, uselessly falling back into her arms. She drags you away from the elevator, EMTs immediately rushing in. You turn in her hold, staining her with Anika's blood as she holds you close, blinking back her tears and whispering reassurances into your ear.

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter smut #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter x you #melissa barrera smut #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #ghostface!sam carpenter #ghostface!sam #off the deep end

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whalesforhands · 9 months

Note

Please please satosugu sharing y/n giving her load after load

sometimes asks like this remind me i’m supposed to be an 18+ blog. i can feel my future self regretting adding to the growing amt of stsg porn in the tags

warnings: bully au, unprotected p in v, fem!reader, established satosugu bcs i love them, dubcon, obsessiveness but it’s the bad kind, minors DNI istg i will quit writing forever and take this blog down with me

“W-wait…!” You’re already crying, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder as the other plants itself on his hip, attempting to stop his movements and your further descent into overstimulation.

“I-I need a break…” You’re panting, breathless and boneless as the sweat on your body and haziness of your brain finally starts getting to you,

“Ehhh?” Gojo’s pulling you in closer by your waist when he feels you try to buck your hips away, sheathing his hard cock deep back inside your weeping hole as you let out a whine at the sensation.

He’s too spoiled. Too mean to let you go now.

“You tired? Want a break?” He’s leaning forward, blue eyes and cute pout all up in your face when he feels you clench tighter around him.

You nod fervently, teary gaze and gem-like eyes pointed towards him, letting him intertwine his big hands with yours oh so intimately. As if he loves you, as if he sees you as more than just his bedwarmer. He’s finally showing you mercy.

He slows to a stop, finally letting you take a shaky breath in before he pulls out all the way, a combination of Geto’s and his own spend starting to leak out. He leaves only the head of his pretty cock notching itself at your entrance, letting you relax into the bed and seeing your shoulders begin to droop from sheer exhaustion.

Before he rams the entirety of it back in, ignoring your squeals and squirms, your cries of pained pleasure.

“N-no!” Thrust. “G-gojo please!” Thrust. You’re starting to cry again, hold on his hands letting go to push at his chest lightly, the pleasure and lust overtaking your overtaxed body.

“Just kidding~, whores like you should just sit there and take cocks in this tight cunt of yours like an obedient slut.”

Suguru’s been watching all this while as he watches his boyfriend have his way with you, his hand vigorously stroking his own phallus, watching intently as your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, tongue beginning to loll out as Satoru’s unrelenting pace fucked you stupid.

“Hey, pull out. I’m gonna cum.” His hand is holding onto his painfully hard cock as he watches the way your tears fall, your sweaty face streaked in your overstimulated pleasure and helplessness as you simply take what you’re given.

He wants to add to your ruin.

“Hah? Just do it on her somewhere, I’m busy.” Gojo accentuated his words with a harsh buck of his hips, using a hand to hold both of yours down as the other rubs at your quivering clit.

His thrusts are speeding up, your whines and moans echoing throughout his bedroom as you cry and cry and cry, reaching your climax for the nth time that night, cumming onto his already drenched cock.

He lets out a pleasured grunt, “You fucking slut…!” His words are barely breathed out as he starts to cum, spurts of familiar white hot liquid making you twitch as you let out a quiet moan at the sensation, your legs thrown over his shoulders as you tremble and shake.

It’s finally over, right? But… he’s not pulling out, only reaching a hand up to your cheek to pat your worn out self as he grins, wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts to pick you up.

When… Did Suguru get behind you?

“If you’re not gonna pull out, I might as well join in, shouldn’t I?”

You feel a prodding at your already abused hole, a second cock sliding inbetween your filled pussy and against Satoru’s now sensitive dick.

Oh no.

#jjk smut #satosugu x reader #cyh au #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader

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angelbarelywrites · 2 months

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | kisses!

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i hope to do a first meeting and kisses post for all ton of slashers, so let me know who else you wanna see! there’s already some i swapped out between the two posts just because of ideas i already had

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> this brat is always begging for kisses

> he’s not really one to physically initiate

> and it’s secretly because he loves when you follow his orders

> but he loves all kinds of kisses, and he’s usually content with more chaste ones

> when you do make out though, he is sloppy

> he’s still so touch starved and sensitive

> so it can go from just a long peck to him panting and huffing surprisingly quickly

> and he likes when you praise him for it

> he loves when you pin his hands while you kiss him, laying beneath you as you straddle his chest

> but he loves pawing at you almost as much- in the same position of course

> loves receiving marks

> especially hickies on his neck, like a dumb horny teen

Micheal Myers

> he’s not huge on kissing, or other non-sexual contact

> he’ll make you ask for it

> sometimes even beg

> and then he’ll roll up his mask and kiss you, rough and breathless

> he’s a biter, on your lips, neck, anywhere

> and the more you whine the more he marks you

> all that being said

> he loves when you kiss the mask

> you can swear you’ve heard him groan a bit from it before

> he’ll feel you up as you do too, making it hot and heavy despite how one sided the contact is

> he loves grabbing your throat, pushing you against the wall and kissing you so hard it stuns you

> sometimes to get what he wants, because he’s a malewife manipulator

> but sometimes because he loves the hazy eyed face you make as he pulls away

Thomas Hewitt

> oh my god loves when you kiss him

> forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kisses through the mask, kisses pressed to his jaw, etc etc

> hell you lean over and kiss his arm and he’s giddy- in his silent and almost unnoticeable way

> he loves kissing your neck in particular

> partially because he can hide- the insecurity is hard to shake

> but also because he loves coaxing pretty noises out of you

> freaks out when he leaves marks- but also loves the way you bruise after you reassure him it’s okay

> he loves when you lie on top of him, lazily kissing him between giggles

> it makes you seem so small (because gd, he’s 6’9 and built like a brick house), and he can grab your ass all he wants

Bubba Sawyer

> might be the Biggest Kiss Enjoyer out there

> he loves giving kisses all over!!!

> but especially loves peppering your face with kisses until you’re giggling too hard to let him continue

> he also loves getting kisses, because ofc

> he likes when you kiss his tummy, on top of everything else he can be insecure about his build

> and his hands- chances are y’all also have a huge size difference, and he’s always in awe of how little your cheek is in his hand. so he loves when you lean and kiss his palm

> his favorite kisses are when he picks you up and twirls you around

> and then he settles you in his arms and kisses you sweetly

> not too sexual but intimate

Billy Lenz

> this guy 🙄 in a word, frantic

> there is no peck on the lips with Billy Lenz

> whatever your intention, if you don’t pull away literally immediately, it’s getting dirty fast

> he’s all tongue and teeth and giggles

> like Brahms he’s incredibly pent up

> but baby boy is unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) aggressive

> marks you up like it’s his job- hickies and bites and even sometimes bruises from holding your hips too hard because he’s stronger than he looks

> grabs your hair and tugs your head back to look at you and tell you how pretty you look and babble weird incoherent shit

> he loves you in his lap, facing him and practically grinding up on you as he lick lick licks your neck and any other skin he can between kisses

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

Note

hello beloved aali, for your prompt game i am humbly asking for— ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ —with best boi kirishima eijirou <3 whatever kink you think fits best :P i hope u are well ! kissing u ! 😽💞

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜

extension. marking kink + fem!reader + nsfw.

things to note. thank u sainty baby!! hope u enjoy hehe

when he faces the world, kirishima is kind and gentle. he’s a favoured amongst all for his bright ruby eyes and friendly smile.

but when you’re alone in your bedroom, he transforms into a completely different person — he can be rough, and mean and everything you need to get off.

“that’s it baby, lift your leg for me,” kirishima coos down to you condescendingly, the pads of his fingers sinking so deep into your fleshy thigh that it might bruise. it’s one of his favourite things, seeing all the places he’s left his claim on you the morning after — just the sight of every scratch or bump and bruise sends blood rushing straight to his drippy cock and love hormones to his brain.

when eijirou gets like this — you can barely even think about the flash of pain shooting through you as he hoists your leg up high on his shoulder, overwhelming you with the feeling of how much deeper he can get at this ankle. his head shifts to the left, condescending smirk spreading across his lips and revealing pretty rows of sharpened pearly whites. “you like it like that, don’t you baby?”

he presses a kiss to your calf, nipping it with his teeth and smirking when your buck upwards in response.

your brain literally lags, barely able to handle the size of kirishima has he hangs over you — pressing you into the sheets as his heavy cock stretches you open. he pushes on despite the resistance of your tiny, weeping little hole. the public wouldn’t believe you if you their beloved red riot got like this, panting like a dog in heat, a drooling mess over you whenever he got the chance to fuck you. the sight is a picture of scandal, your cream foaming a tight ring around the base of his shaft, smearing about the place every time the red head plunges into your welcoming heat.

“oh, baby… listen to you, so fuckin’ soaked for me, oh god?” eijirou simpers lowly, a growl brewing within his broad chest at the feeling of you tightening around him. his dick slots perfectly against your squelching walls, and the crude and lewd sound of your sexes smacking together makes him so dizzy that his head drops to your neck weakly.

“uhuh, all f’you,” you manage to gasp out from underneath him — trapped between kirishima’s bulking body as he pounds into you and the sweaty sheets that stick to your back, tainted with both of your arousals.

the way you sound so breathless drives eijirou insane, you’ve got him losing his cool and losing himself in you — brutally swinging his hips into you without giving your swollen, salacious cunt a second thought. “god, fuck— c’mere baby, c’mere,” he seethes meanly as if you’re not already impossibly close. a weighty hand snakes around your neck, a thumb resting on your subtle Adam’s apple as kirishima pulls your throat up to his hungry mouth. “gonna mark this pretty fuckin’ throat up, needa— holy shit!”

he cuts himself off, your ribbed walls fluttering around his monstrous dick, suffocating him inside of you. instead of rambling on with slurred speech— kirishima pacifies himself by sucking on your neck, his teeth scraping your supple skin, sinking into it to leave his mark. his groans change to sweet, high pitched moans and pleasure smooths over his frenzied brain.

he doesn’t care now, that his teeth are sharp and pointed — he only cares for the way you wail in surprise as he leaves dark hues up and down your shoulders and neck. it’s his mark of possession, that you’re his and only his. eijirou’s hot tongue soothes the blistering love bites that he leaves on you while his arm wraps around the back of your head to keep you caged in beneath him.

“you're mine,” the red head growls between panting in pockets, lungs heaving in sync with yours — chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “you've always been mine.” he reaffirms, sucking just under your ear too. mostly anywhere he can get access to. “love seeing you covered in me, no one else can have you like this. right, baby?”

you’d reply if you could, but you’re too busy choking on your pitiful groans that tell him you’re close to cumming. your nails scale their way down the muscles of his back — marking eijirou up in your own way too. letting him know he’s just as much yours, as you are his.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #bnha smut #kirishima x you #eijirou kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha thirst #✮⋆˙ 0-800-hot guy-hotline #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚੭ — close friends story #♡︎₊˚saint.🎖️#✧ ₊˚🃏੭ — games

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tasteracha · 1 year

Note

pleaseeeeeeee write something about minho's long hair, i'm begging and freaking out 😫😫😫

a/n: oh i’m screaming. this ask was made for me. i can’t do this. i’m going to go more feral than i already AM DHSKDJDHD

your hands tangle into his hair, strands of it spilling out of your fingers as you pull him closer to you. it’s so soft, silky and pillowy in your grip, unlike the way his teeth scrape over the skin of your throat.

his lips don’t leave your neck as he lines himself up at your entrance, collecting your juices on him to make the slide easier. his cock passes over your sensitive clit and you arch up into him, bucking your hips against his.

“in,” you gasp, repeating the action when he properly bites your neck and sucks at the spot. “inside of me, now.”

he leans over you with a chuckle, tufts of his dark hair falling over his face and shrouding him in darkness. his glinting eyes are peeking through the strands, catlike and squinted as he takes you in. his face goes slack as he sinks into you, eyelids fluttering closed in pleasure as he rocks into you slowly. his hair follows his movements, swinging back and forth as he moves in you, and you can’t help but be transfixed by it.

your hand moves to tuck a bit behind his ears and you revel in how red his ear has turned. the lock slinks back out as quickly as it was tucked away, spurred on by how he’s started to fuck into you faster. you’re rewarded with a soft moan when you scratch a bit at his scalp and his movements stutter a bit. you try out a tug, a small piece of his hair locked between your fingers, and he gasps. that’s new.

he moves back to look at you with wide eyes, his cock forgotten and hard inside of you while he stared at you in reverence.

“do that again,” he says, breathless. all hints of his precious confidence, his casual humor as he makes you fall apart under him, are done. you do what he says, taking more of his hair into your hand and pulling, harder than before. his entire body shudders as he collapses against you, head pressed into your neck to hide his whine as his hips pick back up in a harsh rhythm.

usually, he loves to take his time with you, making you shake apart several times before finishing, your pleasure overriding his. but now, with your hands tangled into his long hair and tugging at it, his movements are almost wild as he fucks into you with a rare kind of desperation. he comes in you at the same time as you do, when you pull especially hard as you clench around him over and over. the room is filled with your moans twisting around each others’, pants and groans escaping into the air in bright colors.

you release your hands as he pulls out, the sight of him almost sending you into a spiral. his hair is a mess, carefully crafted strands mussed up from your work. his face is flushed, a war of embarrassment and pleasure making itself known.

“well,” he says, moving down your body until he’s a hair’s breadth away from your pulsing core. “looks like you discovered something new. don’t you think you deserve a reward, kitten?”

he dives in, lapping up his own release from your body, his tongue feeling perfect on your aching pussy. his hands move to grasp yours, guiding them to land on his head.

oh.

with his permission granted, you twine your fingers back into his hair like they belong there, pulling his head further into you and chasing your pleasure. he moans against you, the hum of it sending vibrations sparking up your spine.

even when it becomes too much, when your oversensitivity takes control and every stripe of his tongue or brush of his lips makes you buck up, he keeps going. your hands fist into his hair, trying to tug him off of you but he just groans into you and keeps going, one arm reaching up to brace against your hips, holding you down against the bed.

when you’re both laying in bed, teeth brushed and showered and in clean clothes, you tug experimentally at his hair. you can’t help the smile that takes over your face when he inhales sharply, sharp eyes flickering over you.

“careful,” he drawls out, pulling you into him and trapping your hands between your bodies.

you’re definitely using this knowledge to your advantage from now on.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee know imagines

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thatsdemko · 6 months

Text

more of you - d.ricciardo

warnings: smut + not intended for minors + minor grammar/spelling errors

a/n: Daniels performance today had me thinking thots….

the upbeat honky tonk tune is stuck in his head. he hums the little rhythm he remembers while his right foot taps the beat against the tile floor in the bathroom.

the razor held in his hand shaves off the last bits of his Austin look down to just a stache. the way you claimed to like it.

you’re sound asleep in the bedroom. the walls of the hotel are paper thin and you can hear every bit of it what he’s doing—even down to the tapping of his foot and the sound of the razor against his stubble.

you weave your legs throw the messed up sheets until you’re finally free and can touch the ground. you maneuver through the clothes and blankets on the floor until you’re propped up against the bathroom doorframe.

“did I wake you?”

the look in your eyes says enough. exhaustion from the previous night and inability to get a decent sleep even after the previous nights events. just finally having been able to doze off, Daniel decided to get out of bed. it was a curse that you two were never on the same sleep schedule.

you move into the bright bathroom and slip up onto the counter. you watch with interest, despite your eyes falling heavier at such a mundane task. every so often your eyes fell towards his fingers, the way they grasped the tiny razor and how just the knuckles seemed to be covered in shave cream.

“go ahead and sleep, I’ll be there in a minute.” his whisper barely reaches your ears, your body tunes out the need for sleep now, your mind races with the idea of him knuckles deep in you. it’s such a thought that scares your morning brain, but your body inches towards the edge of the counter.

your fingers brush his bare shoulders, you’re turning him to face you and with one swift motion, you grab the towel that’s beside him and wipe what cream is left on his face.

“I kind of need that.” his words get swallowed by your lips on his. you guide his hands against your inner thighs and you feel it all scream to you. it’s not like he hadn’t just been down there last night, but you needed to feel him in you again. you suddenly had forgotten what he felt like.

his lips trail your neck, fingers push your thighs apart, you’re sitting on your sits-bones, legs wrapped around his waist. there’s nothing holding you back, not a single cloth or piece of satin to catch the glistening moisture between you.

a satisfied hum leaves his mouth, fingers wiggle around your entrance, he doesn’t have to say a thing. the smirk upon his lips are enough to send your head back against the mirror completely breathless.

it’s pitiful how wet you are. he’s not out a finger inside you yet, but just his beauty was enough. his fingers, his knuckles, his hands, his face, his brown eyes, and his fucking smirk were enough to send your clit into a frenzy.

when he finally had enough toying you and watching your breath catch, he doesn’t hesitate. his finger slides in with ease, your body clamps against him. it’s too easy, and it’s so fucking annoying. the look on his face angers you, and fires you up even more.

“more.”

“more what?”

“more of you.” you pant, “all in, ricciardo.”

he doesn’t think you can handle it. you’ve never handled all of him before, it’s always been too much, but you’re in charge. he listens when you’re begging even if it takes all of him to not fight you on it. he inches further inside, only one finger spreading you open and pumping carefully.

“another.”

your legs shake around his waist. it’s hard to keep yourself together when you haven’t felt this open. you watch his brown eyes fill darker, the excitement grows in his pants watching you come undone against his fingers.

it’s a beautiful sight for him to see, your cum on his fingers. he doesn’t hesitate to taste you, “beautiful like always.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

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milequaritchsslut · 10 months

Note

please write a dads bestfriend miguel o’hara wanting to ruin innocent, sweet reader 🥺🥺

DBF Miguel O’Hara Headcannons

DBF = Dads Best Friend

Warnings: Innocent reader, p in v, teasing, foreplay, dirty talk

- He definitely likes teasing you and saying inappropriate things when your parents aren’t around. He’ll squeeze you wherever he can until your whining and whimpering for him to stop cause your so embarrassed. ‘Sorry baby—your just so cute’ or ‘Am I hurting the little princess?’

- He loves kissing you, getting you all red and flustered as he slips his tongue in and holds you closely. His large hands roughly holding you closer as he ventures deeper into your mouth, desperate to taste every inch of you. ‘M-Miguel’ you’d whimper out completely flustered as your soft hands gently try to push him away. ‘Mami shhh’ he’d coo, wrapping his hand into your hair and pulling you closer as your eyes flutter closed—letting him take what he wanted.

- He loves taking advantage of your kindness and just absolutely ruining you. Whenever you two are out together with your dads permission he loves whispering all the things he’s gonna do to you the second you two are alone, getting you all shy and blushing as you smile from embarrassment. He loves doing it in public, rushing into the family bathroom and pushing you against the wall as he quickly takes your clothes off. Panting and breathless you let him, and before you know it he’s already positioning himself in between your legs.

‘M-Miggy b-be quieter’ you’d whimper out helplessly as he thrusts into you ruthlessly, your legs wrapped around him as your held against the wall. His hands are gripped tightly around your waist as his cock hits your sweet spot every time.

He looks up at you, loving the way your adorable little face twists and turns in pleasure as he hits deeper and deeper with every thrust. He loves making you mess, your makeup sweating off and your skirt bunched up into a ball on the bathroom ground next to you.

- Whenever he’s invited to family dinners, he makes sure to sit right next to you. Scooting his chair to be smushed right next to yours, purposely making sure he can touch you as much as possible. While your eating he lets his hand wander up your thigh and under your cute little skirt—talking to your father the whole time with a fat smirk plastered across his face. Your cheeks would grow a tint of pink, trying your best not to react and ignore it. You soon felt a finger prodding at your underwear, rubbing gentle circles on your clit. Your thighs squeeze together helplessly, trying to stop the pleasure from getting to you. A wet spot forming on your panties and seeping onto his large fingers.

‘Is someone getting excited?’ He’d whisper into your ear slyly, his hand leaving your thigh and setting on his lap instead. Purposely leaving you wet and desperate, you rolled your eyes and went back to eating your food—horny and disappointed.

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catcze · 6 months

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Hi there, what kind of kisser do you think Wriothesley is? (this is absolutely not an excuse to request a scenario about making out with him nope nope nope <:3)

Although he looks pretty rough and bad boy-ish, I feel like he is actually a lot softer than one would expect (from the calming music in his office and the way he was so so gentle with the kid hhhhh)

OOOUGHIASD OKAY OKAY HOLDONNN 👀👀

A bit suggestive???? Like;;; I mean dude they make out lmao but there's no indication or even a suggestion of it going any further than kissing, so afaik i don't think i need to put an age restriction

When Wriothesley kisses you, he kisses like he wants to savor you. A tender hand on your cheek, another on your waist. He holds you steady and presses you close to his chest, but makes sure that his grip isn't one that leaves you bruised later. He's gentle as he guides your head to face him. Pale blue eyes barely ever leave your own— only in quick, short bursts to glance at your lips, before he looks back at you.

"This okay?" He always murmurs gently. Stills his hand, so that his breath only brushes your lips. He's sweet to you, waits for your answer patiently with the blush high on his cheeks. Be it a nod, or a soft yes, he always always always waits for your permission. And when you give it? His lips are meeting yours, pulling a sweet sound from your throat.

Wriothesley is never hurried— he kisses you leisurely, sweetly. Not to say he's not eager, though. His lips mesh and press against yours and pulls you until your chest is crushed against his. He takes his time with you. His arm curls around your waist, and your hands find their place in his hair, carding through dark spikey strands. He sighs whenever you scratch his scalp, and you swallow his breath greedily.

The hand that cups your face tilts you when he's had enough of small, sweet kisses. Tilts you just so, so that when Wriothesley detaches from your lips for just a quick second to press a kiss to your nose then dives right back in, the kiss feels deeper. Languid still, yes, but he's more intense now. There's a newfound hunger in his kisses, as he devours your lips, as if he's been starving and you're the only thing that can sate him.

When his arm squeezes just enough to pull a gasp from your lips, it is Wriothesley's turn to swallow it greedily, returning it with what sounds like a whine of his own. He's gentle in how he handles you, even in his growing hast to crush his lips against yours and pull the breath from your lungs.

"This has to be a dream," He murmurs when he parts from you, panting as he tries to gulp down air. You're no better, leaning against his chest, boneless in the aftermath of his affection. Wriothesley cradles you against him, runs a hand over your back soothingly as he holds you. "You're too perfect to be real," he says, half-joking, and you weakly smack his chest. You doubt he even feels it.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me again," you demand. With a breathless chuckle, the Duke happily obliges, all too happy to take up your attention once more.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

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uplatterme · 1 year

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a/n: i can’t title this. my wip list literally has it as “haitham gets scammed by dori ft. aphrodisiac”

cw: sub!alhaitham, dom!gn!reader | handjob, cockpolishing, usage of aphrodisiac, crying

————

“haitham? are you alright?” you ask out of worry, the scribe trembling as he uses the door frame to support himself.

you quickly go to him to help him out, but a slight touch of skin makes you flinch due to how warm he is. although, that doesn’t compare to the noise that abrupts out of his throat.

“dearest?” you question him again, only to get yourself pinned to the wall.

he presses himself on your body, grinding in a soft and slow rhythm. he tears up, muttering quiet apologies as he continues his movement.

“what’s wrong?”

“s-sorry…” he holds onto your body, desperately trying to get himself off. each friction has him tensing up that the more he does it, the more it seems like he’s edging himself rather than getting that release that he wants.

he pants, breathless. you’re unsure if he’s even sane enough to know what he’s doing.

you put your arms around him, helping him out as he continues to fuck himself on your thigh. his legs are unstable, shaking as if there’s an earthquake happening.

“p-please. need to cum…” he cries out, sobbing. his cock aches, outlining itself from the outside of his pants.

next thing alhaitham knows, his back is on the soft cushion of your bed. it didn’t take much work, considering his body is as frail as a historical artifact right now.

alhaitham’s lower half is so wet to the point you’re half-convinced that the man had cum outside before even getting here. his cock is twitching, and as your warm fingers envelop him, alhaitham whimpers, cumming instantly.

“my scribe, what exactly have you gotten yourself into?”

“drank…something—hn!” the scholar finds himself sensitive, too sensitive, no matter how minimal your touches are.

he grips the messed up sheets of the bed, unable to contain how his body reacts. he keeps telling his brain to stop, that it’s embarrassing how he’s spread out like this, under your mercy.

he wants you to stop looking at him as if you’re going to devour him whole like a wild beast…

“more….” he begs.

ah, is there even a point of him lying to himself?

“needy today, aren’t we? you said you had work to do…and now you’re here.” you tease.

“it’s not me…it’s because of that damn wine…” he breathes out, he feels you quickening your face and his body shrivels up into another orgasm.

“really. so why is it that instead of getting the antidote, you come to me instead?”

the pleasure is getting to his head. it’s almost as if you’re inside his brain, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“i…” he doesn’t see himself winning, even if he decides to think of something to say.

“using such a thing to your advantage. how irresponsible, my scribe.”

you play with the tip of his cock, your thumb slipping on his slit. he drowns in the sensation, all coherent thoughts leaving him.

he didn’t—he swears that he didn’t plan it to end up like this. he was just tricked by that damn merchant!

why didn’t he go get the antidote?

as your finger continues to polish his cock, his body quivers, wanting to curl up and away from the touch. he’s so close—god, he’s gonna cum. he doesn’t want to—he does—no—yes—please!

your other hand keeps him still, forcing him to endure and to not resist the overwhelming satisfaction that you’re giving him.

you’re going to break him. reduce his mind into nothing but a mindless puddle, nothing that the kind of scholar he proudly presents himself as.

he sobs even harder as he reaches another climax. he hears you laugh.

“you’re fine, my pretty baby. i’ll take such good care of you. don’t worry.”

“o-okay.” he responds with a grin.

#sub genshin impact #sub genshin #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #sub alhaitham #sub!alhaitham #alhaitham x reader

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