#i need to suck it up and RENDER for once

[tea-time221]

wyllstarion chronicles

i ran out of wholesome wyllstarion ideas so i decided to shitpost because i physically cant stop drawing them (this is a cry for help ples give me drawing suggestions thank u)

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[chuluoyi]

✎ insatiable

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is hot and wild, and he has one problem: he always finds you too pretty to resist

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of heavy smut (gojo eating you out, p in v sex, missionary style, and hints of semi-rough sex?) and fluff, fluff, fluff—it gets exponentially soft during aftercare because i need fluff to live

note: i'm no saint, i know, and i'm blaming all this on my pms🤧 this is obviously not my best work but pls enjoy regardless🥲 based on this idea of love hotel dates

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is a man of demanding needs, and ‘holding back’ is never in his vocabulary.

Sometimes he swears you do it on purpose—the choice of your sundress, revealing your soft thighs for everyone to see; or pulling up your hair to enunciate the beauty of your neck, which reminds him of just how much he loves it to leave his love bites there.

And how you coyly look at him while doing so, it’s hard not to get hard.

You made him want to fuck you into the mattress and devour you whole—well, with you looking so inviting like that, you couldn’t really blame him for leading you to love hotel in the middle of your dates now, could you?

. . .

“Why are you so pretty, huh? All dolled up just for me...”

Your plush thighs framing each side of his head, your dress was long discarded as you lay sprawled out, legs parted wide . . . with Satoru sucking your dripping cunt hungrily and you pulling at his hair.

“Ahh... hah... mmnghh!” the way his voice was muffled between your legs, paired with how his tongue was tasting your clit had you moaning like a distressed kitten— and you felt hot all over.

And oh, couldn't you tell that you were so wet already down there?

You grimaced, focusing on the rising heat pooling in your lower belly. “Satoru... you're too—!”

“Hmm? Too what? Too good, sweet pea?” he edged you on, that devilish smirk on his face. “Of course I am. I'm the best.”

The way he lapped at your overflowing pussy was mind-blowing to say the least—casually nipping, licking, and overall, just scarfing down your sensitive flesh with such fervor.

How could someone be so incredibly sinful and heavenly at the same time?

"Aahhhh!" you yanked his locks and arched your back when he blowed air into your clit—your body spasming when you finally felt the knot in your belly burst once again, his awaiting tongue slurping you as if you were his tastiest treat.

And by now, you could barely form any thoughts, after he pulled the rag out from under you by making you cum four times.

“Do I make you feel good?” he chuckled, still pressing his face between your legs. With your head spinning and stars dancing in your vision, you could only whine.

Seeing you rendered into such hot mess—all because of him, Satoru smiled, ignoring the slight pain in his scalp as he swallowed your cum with that devious smirk before kissing your inner thigh with the very same daring mouth that was devouring your pussy before.

Beautifully and perfectly wet. You were like a ripe fruit for ready the taking now.

“Now, sweets... let me just show you what the best feels like.”

Suddenly, his length slid into you like a perfect fit, hitting you right where it should be. The sensation left you breathless, and in a flash, you let out hitched cries as he began to move within you, setting a relentless rhythm that seemed almost unforgiving.

“Satoru— too fast! Too de—ngh, hah—!”

Oh my, what a precious thing you are, writhing under him like this. “Really…? Then it means I’m doing—haah—a great job at this then.”

With each thrust, he marvelled at how tight your walls were engulfing him. Damn, if this kept up longer, even he wouldn’t last. Your pussy was a heavenly treasure.

“Fuck, you're so—hot,” Satoru panted, his fingers digging into your thighs as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was really going to lose it soon, especially when right now, under him, you were a sight to behold. So pliant, so pretty, all his—

“I can't—!” you suddenly blurted, tears running down your scrunched-up face. “Satoru, I can't anymore—please—”

“Oh, but you can, baby girl,” he slowed down and countered in a low growl, interlacing his fingers with yours and folded your knees, effectively pinning you down to the bed. He had never made you hit five orgasms in one session, but now he was about to set a personal best.

His eyes captivated you, with how glittery they were. “One more time. My girl can do it.”

The underlying command in his tone triggered you, turning you on. And then he plowed into you— and then you didn't know anymore as the one thing you could utter was his name, in broken wails. “Satoru! argh—aaaah! Satoruuuu!”

His name spilling nastily from your lips, and—holy fuck, how your folds were still clenching around his cock so deliciously tight was just so—!!

He grunted, brushing his lips on yours in a messy kiss as his other hand squeezed your plump breast, making you yelp. “Can't blame me for this. Will fuck you till you can’t walk. You're mine now.”

He thrusted faster and harder, targeting your cervix repeatedly like a predator in heat. And your scream was the loudest ever yet when you cummed for the fifth time—

“Ah… ah—ahhhh!” your body shuddered, a wave of blinding pleasure crashed upon you so hard your vision dimmed, lost in the sensation of how his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply without giving you a chance to recover.

And by God, you are amazing, because in the next minute, Satoru lost all his shits and groaned loudly—his hot cum spurting in successive bursts and filling you up oh so nicely . . . even overflowing as it dripped out of your spent folds and down to the pristine sheets.

Satoru slowly sat up on the bed. The air was still thick with the aftermath of the best sex he had for the first time in a while.

It took him a few moments to realize that you passed out as you were lying face down on the pillow, motionless. A frown creased his forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tenderly brushing your hair aside.

“Sweetheart, hey? You okay?” he cautiously whispered. “Hey...”

His heart suddenly thudded within his ribcage when you failed to respond. The mere thought of you being anything less than okay was enough to send him spiraling.

You cracked your eyes open at his prodding, and let out a whimper when you felt a sudden cramp seizing your lower abdomen. In reflex, you clutched at the source of discomfort and curled upon yourself.

Satoru got a hold of you quickly, alarmed, trying to soothe you. “We're getting a bath, yeah? Hold on.”

Gone was the rabid man who senselessly fucked you over, replaced by the sweet boyfriend who was worried sick over your state.

He rushed to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath. However, noticing your slow, pained attempt to stand, he hurried back, lifting you effortlessly with one arm under your knees.

“Shh,” he quieted your whine gently, planting a swift kiss on your forehead. “You’re sore. Don't walk—let me carry you.”

And not only did he carry you, Satoru also tenderly bathed you, keeping you close to his chest. He sat behind you in the bathtub, comforting you with gentle caresses when you sniffled and pressing soft kisses on your wet shoulders, one arm securely around your waist.

After the bath, he quickly dried you off and wrapped you in the hotel's plush bathrobe. With utmost care, he lifted you again in a princess-carry and tucked you into the bed you both shared for the night.

“How are you feeling now, hmm?” he asked you softly, drawing you to his embrace again. “Better?”

Even refreshed from the bath, your mind was still partially muddled in the afterglow from the earlier lovemaking. You sought solace in his comforting presence. “Mm-hmm...”

“I was too rough on you, wasn’t I?“

He really made good on that promise—you wouldn’t be able to walk now as you felt too much like a jelly. You simply let out a soft sigh and gently bumped your forehead against his chest in a resignation, which brought a smile to his face.

“Sorry...” he murmured, his hand finding your hip to start a gentle massage. Unbeknownst to your half-sleepy state, he genuinely meant his apology. “In my defense, you are just unbelievably ravishing though...”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted through a haze, your voice scratchy as you poked him in the chest with little force.

“Heh, for you? Most definitely.”

That got you to smile. His words, warm and fond, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, affirming his deep, unwavering affection and desire for you alone.

The soothing motions of his hip massage lulled you back to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut with a sense of tranquility. And seeing you like this, something inside Gojo Satoru pulsed with tenderness.

“So pretty,” he blurted in pure adoration, his honored eyes fixed firmly on your sleeping form, blinking in wonder. “Wasted on someone like me…”

Suddenly, he found that he wanted to be soft to you more than ever. Next time, he would take it nice and slow. He would mold himself into your needs and desires— that was his vow to himself.

And it dawned to him, how he didn't want this love hotels anymore. Instead, he wants forever, with you—

But until then... he would relish this moment to the fullest, indulging himself in your presence, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat—secure with the knowledge that he was yours, at least until forever falls apart.

[lobautumny]

So like, the Reddit strike going on right now, yeah? I've been seeing a lot of people comment on how they appreciate the protest and then go on to say that this has the notable downside of them constantly looking up questions and not being able to easily find the answers because all of the easily-findable answers are exclusively on Reddit. I am not sure if most of the people making this observation are within the line of thought of "man, maybe this protest isn't such a good idea after all" or "man, it really sucks that we've let the internet get so consolidated," and I'm really hoping its the latter.

Like, all of this? This right here? Reddit making a shitty, anti-consumer grab for money and control over how people are allowed to access the information on their servers, and the website going dark in protest causing tons of people to not be able to access important information? This is exactly what people mean when they say that it's bad that the internet has shrunk down so much and is mostly comprised of, like, 10 websites. It's a fucking problem that one company making one bad decision and causing their website to crash and burn can jeopardize so much of humanity's cumulative information.

This two-day glimpse into the internet without Reddit is the warning shot. Imagine what will happen if Reddit actually goes down for good for one reason or another one day. Imagine what will happen if/when Discord or Fandom bites the dust, or gets rendered practically-unusable without paying an ever-increasing premium because they're owned by blood-sucking corporate leeches.

Another big thing is Twitter clamping down really hard on your ability to DM people if you don't have Twitter Blue. If this goes through, it'll put a ton of artists and sex workers who rely on Twitter DMs for their business operation into a shitty situation. Now, obviously, it's not gonna be the end of the world for them, but once again, it feels like a warning shot to me. Twitter is a sinking ship, and unless something changes and it starts to course-correct, I worry that it'll go under and all of the creators who rely on it will suddenly be in an extremely precarious situation.

These are the sorts of things that we, as the users of the internet, need to seriously think about as time goes on, and if we don't find an adequate answer sooner, we're going to pay for it later. I still hold that the best solution is to start making and using more individual, niche websites. Things like Twitter, Reddit, Discord, etc. have their place, of course, but I seriously think a lot was lost through the death of things like individual forums and the existence of many different wiki-hosting sites.

We need a concerted effort, not just on the side of larger creators, but on the users themselves, to stop exclusively using these larger websites and support the creation and growth of smaller, more niche websites, and prevent a catastrophe before it actually happens. I simply hope that people with larger platforms than my own pick up on all this and start talking about it and swaying people to act sooner rather than later. I know it's possible to correct the problem of the mysteriously tiny internet before a modern Library of Alexandria moment happens, I just don't know if that correction will actually happen in time.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Seams

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part II: Threads }

Rating: M

Summary: Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a 'normal' life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight. Self-conscious, he deals with it the way he does most things - he ignores it.

That is until one day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. With neither Tommy nor Ellie anywhere to be found to get him out of the tight spot, Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store he’s seen in town for help - and a new pair of jeans.

There, he meets you.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, body insecurity, some language, Joel being unkind to himself, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6k

Notes: I haven't written anything this fast for a hot minute. It's both exciting and terrifying, especially as Joel is so new to the fandom. So this is a one-shot as it stands, but I'll be lying if I say I haven't thought about where this story can go. Please be gentle with me, Joel is easily the most intimidating Pedro boy I've written for so far. I hope this doesn't disappoint 🥺

‘TommmMMMMMYYYY!’

His voice echoes in the empty street, gruff with irritation. He can feel eyes on him - he always does, wherever he goes in this damn place - covert stares from behind curtains, peeking out of windows from the neighbouring houses.

The polished wood thumps hollowly under his fist. Head bowed in surrender, his forehead makes contact with the surface of the door with a dull thud.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.

Trudging back to the house that’s been allocated to him - he still struggles to think of it as his - he slams the door shut behind him so hard that the sound rings in his ears. Well, more in his left than his right.

Tossing the keys onto a chest of drawers in the hallway, he yells in a last-ditch attempt, ‘Ellieeee!’

The house is silent.

The one time he needs either of them, neither can be found anywhere. Even Maria has made herself scarce - not that he’d ask her for help for this.

This being these stupid fucking jeans. 

His trusty jeans that he’s worn for years, other than on laundry days, which were few and far in between. They’ve literally seen him through thick and thin - the knees are so worn he can almost see the web of white thread beneath the denim.

Tess had gotten him these jeans. Stole them, if he remembers correctly. Once upon a time, he needed a belt to hold them up, or they’d hang down to his ass crack. By the time Ellie came into the picture, they fit well enough to render the belt redundant. He could still easily fit things into his pockets though, like a map or a switchblade.

But now - 

Now he’s stuck, and he can’t get them off.

If he’s being honest with himself, the jeans haven’t fit for months. The jobs in Jackson don’t come anywhere close to the backbreaking work in the QZ or being on the road with Ellie. The food is plentiful even during the harsh winter, and as much as he looks down his ideological nose at it, Maria deserves credit for the thriving commune.

He had a late start this morning. Ellie had already vacated the house by the time he came to. He was on autopilot, distracted by his thoughts about the porch steps that have rotted and need to be replaced. 

He was making plans in his head to nip down to the workshop to get the wooden planks when he started getting dressed. Stepping into the legs of the jeans, he pulled them up, hopping to stretch them over his thighs. Out of habit, he sucked in his belly to button them up, the waistband seemingly even tighter than usual. 

He relegated that to the back of his mind, the same way he’s ignored the fact that the jeans have been uncomfortably tight for months - to the point of hindering his movement when he lays bricks, or cuts off his breathing when he sits down. But he’s gotten used to it, like he does everything else. He’s Joel Miller with the stiff upper lip, after all.

The zipper was next. As usual, he met resistance about halfway up. Baring his teeth, he gripped the tongue of the zipper and yanked upwards. 

Except this time, it didn’t budge. Grumbling, he pulled harder, feeling the burn in his biceps -

It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even aware until he was wheeling backwards from the force, his arm flying up in an arc - and a metallic clink behind him registered faintly in his good ear. 

Disoriented, he glanced down at the zipper. The slider had come clean off.

‘Fuck,’ he swore and turned to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect the damage. Running an experimental finger along the seam, it was clear that the zipper had somehow snagged on the denim. It was stuck. Dead stuck.

Turning the house inside out, he couldn’t find a single pair of scissors, and there isn’t enough space to fit a knife in without slicing himself open, at which point he left on his ultimately fruitless search for reinforcement.

Joel scrubs a tired hand down his face. He’s never been a vain guy - Tommy is that sibling. But he’s never needed to stress about his looks either, with contracting keeping him in shape before the outbreak, and the fight for survival after - until now.

Grabbing his jacket, he shrugs it on, hyper-conscious of whether it’s a tighter squeeze than usual (fortunately not) - and heads into town.

Main Street Outfitters, the only clothing store in Jackson, sits in the middle of the high street, sandwiched between the pub on one side and the welder’s on the other. For the most part, residents come in to trade in old clothes for new ones, but there’s also a nicer selection for the occasional party that one can barter for.

You’re in the workshop at the back, the afternoon sun filling the room through the skylight. 

With your skill in thread and needle, you were the obvious candidate for the job when you arrived in Jackson. Over the years, it has become your sanctuary. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, where neat - though mismatched - boxes of buttons, trimmings, thread and trinkets slot perfectly into place.

You spend the days checking over incoming clothes after they come back from the laundry, making sure they are in reasonable condition and mending those that are not. The shop also charges for adjustments and repairs, and the tasks easily fill your working hours.

It’s a Tuesday, and it’s usually quiet this time of the afternoon. If you’re lucky, you can be undisturbed until you clock off at five - which is why you’re surprised when you hear the tinkle of the doorbell.

The footfall is heavy, it sounds like a strong work boot. You hold your breath and your fingers hover mid-air as the door shuts with a slam. You hear the customer clear his throat - definitely a man - as you wait in vain for the front of house to greet him.

But of course Lucy has sneaked out again. She’s a sweet girl, but manning the counter has always been too dull for her.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deep and gravelly, and despite your reluctance, it doesn’t sit well with your work ethic to keep a customer waiting. Sticking the needle into a pin cushion, you noiselessly rise from your seat and make your way to the front of the shop.

Your first glimpse of him is his back. Standing in front of a rack of jeans, the grays in his hair catch the light streaming through the shop front windows. You study him for a minute, curious eyes running over the width of broad shoulders under a beat-up, khaki jacket. Lower, his jeans are… well-worn, to put it kindly. And from sight, a sitting a bit tight on his hips -

You must have shifted your feet without you noticing. At the minutest creak of wood, the man whips around, one hand reaching behind him in search of the butt of a loaded gun or the hilt of a knife. It’s your good fortune that you see neither on him. The intensity of his gaze is just as effective as a blade on your neck to pin you to your spot.

There’s no question that he’s a newcomer. You’ve seen the same kind of intensity in everyone who’s braved what’s out there to get here.

But even if that didn’t give him away, you already know who he is. He’s Tommy’s brother. Joel, if you remember correctly. Maria approached you for some clothes a few months back when he arrived with his kid for the second time. They’ve been the talk of town since - not that you listen. In fact, you try not to, but you can’t help it if someone talks loudly enough at the next table in the canteen to interrupt your lunchtime reading.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles as the tension in his body recedes. ‘You’re very quiet.’

You duck your head. ‘Sorry.’

‘You work here?’

Wringing your fingers nervously, you nod and take two timid steps towards him, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremour in your voice. ‘How can I help?’

You’ve heard things about Joel Miller. The words most frequently whispered as he ambles by in town include ruthless, cold-blooded and steer clear.

You can’t exactly reconcile the man in front of you with those particular words right now.

There’s nothing that speaks to ruthlessness in the way he averts his eyes and shuffles his feet, the blunt tip of his shoes catching the wooden floor. You also find it hard to believe that a truly cold-blooded person would willingly cross the country and all its horrors in search of his brother, or take a teenager under his wing.

You might not think much of yourself, but you know that your judgement of character has kept you alive so far. And your instinct isn’t telling you to steer clear of this man - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with your scrutiny. ‘Just lookin’ for some new jeans.’

‘Alright,’ you reply, taking the remaining five steps to the other end of the jeans rack, a safe distance away from him. ‘What’s your size?’

To your surprise, he huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘At least one up from whatever I have on right now.’

Sucking in a breath, you gesture vaguely at him. ‘Um, do you mind if I take a look at uh - you? So I can guess what size will fit you?’

You’re used to being the most awkward person in the room wherever you go, but this man is  giving you a pretty good run for your money right now. While you divert your gaze as he unbuttons the front of his jacket, he fixes his somewhere over your shoulder to the right, grinding his teeth, as if he wishes he was anywhere but here.

Dragging your eyes back to him, you take stock of your customer as he sweeps the lapels of the jacket to the side. Underneath, the green flannel cuts off at the top of the jeans, and you see the soft pouch of his abdomen beneath the fabric. While the shirt is well-fitted, the jeans are obviously too small. The waistband bites into his sides, you can see the subtle overhang of his love handles. Even by the way he’s standing you can tell he’s uncomfortable, packed in way too tight in the denim.

And then… you really shouldn’t, but you stare at the front of the jeans. Now, you know for a fact that the fit will be just as snug there even if he goes a size up…

‘Sorry, not much to look at,’ he grunts, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by the self-derision in his voice, the words leave your mouth before they register, sharper than you mean them to be. ‘Don’t say that.’

He blinks at you. ‘What?’

You gape at him. Does he really not see? His tall, solid frame? The strong columns of his thighs? Is this man blind on top of being frustratingly attractive -?

But of course you can never say that. Instead, you pull out three different pairs of jeans in quick succession and all but throw them at him, heat prickling the tips of your ears as the disbelief that you spoke to a customer like that sinks in.

‘The dressing room is there,’ you squeak, pointing at the far corner. ‘I’ll be at the back if you need any help -’

You turn on your heels, in a hurry to get back to your workshop, but you only get halfway through the spin. It takes you three seconds to realise why - his calloused palm is on your wrist, holding you in place.

‘Actually, I do need help - I broke the zipper, and I’m stuck in these damn jeans.’

You ignore the clench of your stomach at the way he spits out the word damn. You’re not big on swearing, but the cuss word sounds good rolling off his tongue in his Southern twang.

To your horror, a giggle bubbles up your throat before you can slap a palm over your mouth.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you apologise profusely, heat flooding your cheeks. 

You stare in consternation when those broad shoulders of his quake, a half-smile on his lips as they part in a scratchy chuckle. ‘Trust me, I’m glad I found you first. My brother or my kid would have given me a much harder time. Probably would’ve pissed their pants laughin’.’

Despite yourself, you smile back with a weak attempt at a joke. ‘I mean, I’ll try not to -’

He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

You lead the way to the back of the shop and Joel follows three polite steps behind, pausing by the doorway. Running practised eyes over the space, the contractor in him appreciates the well-built skylight and the sturdy furniture in the room, pieces that were clearly built to last. He places the jeans you picked out for him on the big work table, made of strong timber and aged with time. 

He picked up a change in your demeanour the moment you crossed the threshold into the workshop. There’s a quiet confidence in your measured steps, the way you move speaking volumes - this is clearly your place, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin here.

You point at the spot marked by a round, cosy rug directly beneath the skylight. ‘Could you stand there for me?’

Doing as he’s told, he startles when you march straight up to him, sliding your palms under the shoulders of his jacket to push it off. Your front brushes his chest briefly when you reach around to catch it, but not brief enough for him to ignore the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against him.

Joel is all too aware of his pulse going from zero to a hundred at the fleeting touch, the collar of his shirt suddenly a bit too tight. For fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since his head has gone anywhere near there, but of course it has to happen at the most inconvenient moment.

At least you don’t seem to notice, draping his jacket over the back of a chair before retrieving a pair of tailor’s scissors from one meticulously organised drawer.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on himself, you hit him with a non-sequitur. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’

Only when Joel splutters wordlessly does the full weight of the question seem to hit you. You stutter, ‘Oh god, I didn’t - I mean - I only asked because if push comes to shove, and I have to cut through the jeans, I don’t want to ruin any underwear you’re wearing -’

You trail off, and it’s his turn to stammer, scratching an invisible itch on his elbow as he struggles to remember what he usually does with his hands.

‘No, no, I get it. I’m ahem -,’ he pauses with a cough. ‘I’m not actually wearin’ any underwear right now. Not out of habit, it’s just that I’ve been barely squeezin’ into the stupid jeans even without it.’

His honest answer seems to put you at ease, and you purse your lips. ‘Sounds uncomfortable.’

He shrugs. ‘Have been for months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘That you’ve been uncomfortable. That’s one thing clothes shouldn’t be.’

Not quite knowing how to answer you, he watches you grab a velvet cushioned footstool from under the work table and place it squarely at his feet. Then, without further preamble, you sink onto your knees in front of him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

As he stares down at the crown of your head, your nose at the level of his waistband, he muses that he hasn’t seen this view for a long time, a very long time. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he closes his eyes, fighting the base instinct to cup the back of your head in his palm and to pull you close -

He breathes out hard through his nostrils and clenches his jaw, casting his gaze heavenwards through the skylight as he actually prays for the first time in years.

Don’t you fucking dare get hard, Miller.

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you consider what’s before you. It’s tricky. The jeans are unbuttoned and zipped up most of the way, but the denim has been caught tight in the metallic teeth, and the handle of the zipper yanked clean off.

Cocking your head to one side, you think out loud. ‘I think we should at least try and unsnag the zipper before cutting. But we’re going to need some lubrication, and we’ll need to give it a really good, firm tug -’

The man chokes on nothing above you, and you frown up at him in a question.

Clearing his throat loudly, he asks through gritted teeth, ‘Do we have to?’

‘I mean, I can just cut open the jeans, but then you’ll definitely have to trade in something extra to cover the costs of the repairs -’

He interrupts, ‘That. Let’s do that.’

‘Alright, your call,’ you say with a nod. ‘Can you hold up your shirt?’

You try not to gawk when he draws up the tails of his flannel, revealing his soft stomach underneath. The mid-rise jeans cut off beneath his belly button, and you eye the trail that sneaks full and dark under the waistband. He’s obviously sucking his tummy in, and you catch yourself wishing he doesn’t feel like he has to.

You bite your bottom lip. ‘Do you think you can fit a couple of fingers into the waistband so I can slide the scissors in? They’re sharp, I don’t want to cut you.’

You watch as he tries, first his index finger, then his middle, but he can barely squeeze in beyond the nail, which turns completely colourless from the pressure. He sighs in surrender. ‘Mfraid you’ll have to, sweetheart.’

You have to close your eyes for a moment, your head swimming. You’re not sure whether it’s from the sweetheart, or the fact that he wants you to stick your hand down the front of his pants. 

Well, not exactly that he wants you to. And not your hand. But still.

You squeak. ‘Do I have to?’

He pins you a sarcastic arch of his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you won’t cut my dick off -’

Your face heats up at his blunt words, falling back onto your haunches. ‘Great, now you’ve got me worried -’

Palms up in apology, he shrugs. ‘Sorry -’

‘No, no, you’re right. I don’t want to accidentally castrate you,’ you sigh. ‘Are you - um - well adjusted in there?’

‘I’d go down the right side of the zipper,’ he answers diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, ‘Ready?’

‘Whenever you are, sweetheart.’

The first contact is the brush of your knuckles against his stomach, the skin warm and soft on the back of your fingers. You don’t dare look up, but you can feel his eyes on you as you burrow your index finger under the waistband. Though it’s a squeeze, you manage to wriggle in nail side down, creating a small gap - still not quite enough to get the scissors in without nicking him.

Talking more to yourself, you mumble, ‘Better safe than sorry. Let me just get one more finger in -’

Joel chokes so hard that you almost jump back in fright, frowning at him as he catches his breath. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

His voice tight, he shakes his head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

You wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t go into another coughing fit. When the coast is clear, you gesture at his jeans. ‘Can I just -’ 

‘Get one more finger in?’ he finishes your sentence in his raspy baritone. 

You finally hear it when he says it like that. And oh god, your ears burn as you stare up at him, lips parted, torn between outrage and a very disorienting arousal. ‘You - you -’

A wicked smirk tugs unexpectedly at the corner of his mouth. ‘I already tried, sweetheart. My fingers are too big to fit inside.’

The touch of playful condescension in his tone has your jaw going slack, and your brain practically short-circuits at the thoughts of where else they are too big to fit inside of -

So as it turns out, you’re brave, or just downright stupid, when you’re turned on. Next thing you know, you hear yourself telling him off. ‘I could just leave you in those jeans you know.’

Joel smiles wider, and retorts, ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I don’t have a mean streak,’ you shoot back.

He seems pleased to have lured you out of your shell, grinning down at you. ‘Believe me, I’m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.’

It’s really unfair that he looks this good from where you are on your knees. His eyes are hooded, curls flecked with grays sweeping his forehead. Even though the apocalypse has left its marks on him in wrinkles, frown lines, and smudged bags under his eyes, it has clearly not taken away from that proud nose or plush lips -

Steadying yourself with a deep inhale, you shake yourself out of it. With an in, it’s slightly easier to push in your middle finger into the waistband to widen the gap. Happy with the quarter inch of space, you hold up the scissors. ‘I’m ready to cut if you are.’

He nods his acquiesce. ‘Do your worst.’

Opening up the scissors and carefully fitting the blade beneath the denim, you carefully begin snipping away. They are sharp, but the fabric is tough and you’re conscious of the very tight fit, so you take it slow.

You pause when you’re a couple of inches in, when Joel lets out a groan of relief. Absent-mindedly, you run a soothing thumb over the angry, red indents the waistband dug into the soft pouch of his tummy, sending a shudder through him. 

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, snatching back your hand as if he burns you. 

Too preoccupied with the relief of being able to breathe, Joel shakes his head. ‘Don’t be. Just keep going. Please.’ 

Why is that one word - six letters - making your breath hitch?

Gripping the top of the now open fly and pinning it against his body so you don’t accidentally see anything you’re not meant to see - whether you want to deliberately is a completely different matter - you hunker down and keep cutting along the zipper. 

Each snip gets easier as the jeans release their death grip on him. The right side of the fly falls away as you cut, the denim peeling back slowly to expose the skin underneath. Your eyes drift to the curve of the pubic bone that’s now completely in view, and it’s taking everything you have to not lean over and run the broad of your tongue along it -

How long has it been since you’ve been with a man? When was the last time you had someone stand before you, pants unzipped and hanging open -

With tremendous fortitude, you tear your eyes away to check on him, ‘All good?’

The grunt of respite that he lets out is almost guttural, going straight between your legs. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good to breathe.’

‘Before I keep going, do you want to - uh - rearrange yourself?’

You expect him to turn around, or at least give you a second to turn around to give him some privacy, but he’s obviously been too deprived of oxygen to think straight. One big palm snakes down his front, right in your face, and he cups himself through the denim.

You stop breathing, eyes wide as he adjusts himself. 

Holy fuck.

When he’s done, he gives you a thumbs up. ‘All good.’

This is it. You’re not making it out of this alive.

You can barely get the words out, your throat suddenly drier than sandpaper. ‘Can you, um, hold up the other side of the fly?’

When he does, you stare at his hand next to yours. How is it so big? The veins are prominent on the back, leading down to thick fingers, the nails neatly trimmed and clean - but you bet there’s residue gunpowder underneath.

There’s still a slither of skin peeking through the V of the fly as the scissors slice through the denim, following his happy trail. The lower you go, the thicker and darker the curls, and goddamnit - what is wrong with you - all you can think about is burying your nose right in there, nudging through the hair, lower and lower and lower still -

A sharp pain on your left finger makes you yelp, the scissors falling from your other hand to the floor with a loud clang. A small bead of blood wells up on the tip where the sharp blade nicked it, and in a panic, you let go of his jeans.

‘Shit,’ Joel curses and covers himself up quickly, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

You nod in embarrassment while you get on your feet. ‘I - my hand just slipped. It’s nothing, the smallest cut, I’m fine -’

Well, to be fair, you were fine - until he grabs your left wrist, brings your hand up to his face and sucks your bleeding fingertip into his mouth. 

As if it’s the logical thing to do.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into his front, but he doesn’t even budge, as if you weigh nothing. Taking a deep breath - wood smoke, simple soap and man fill your lungs. Peering up at him through your lashes, you spot the silver flanking the hinge of his jaw, leading down to a peculiar bare patch on the left side of his beard.

He watches you back as he releases your finger with a wet pop. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he pronounces, ‘Just a small cut. You’ll live.’

Will you though? Because it feels like you’re on the verge of expiring from breathlessness. 

He glances down at his front, which he’s still holding up. ‘I guess I can get out of these now.’

It takes you three seconds to catch up before you stumble backwards. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he says with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head, unable to meet his gaze all of a sudden - hypocrite, you had no problem perving on him a minute ago - and nod at the jeans on the table. ‘Why don’t you try those on?’

He clears his throat. ‘I, uh, should probably put on some underwear first.’

You barely manage to hold back from smacking yourself on the forehead. ‘Of course. We do have some in stock. Boxers or briefs?’

He looks amused. ‘What do you think, sweetheart?’

You hesitate, but you force yourself to be brave and venture a guess. ‘Boxers.’

He winks, and you grin back.

Joel hovers uncertainly in front of the mirror in the fitting room, having exhausted all the angles he can see twice, and wonders if he’s been dithering for too long. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at anymore, so he bites the bullet and draws back the curtain.

‘How do they feel?’ you ask.

He was counting on some hint from you, but you give nothing away. So he shrugs, hands on hips. ‘I honestly can’t tell you.’

‘May I?’

At his nod, you step into his space, and he watches as you hook your fingers into the belt loops on either side of the jeans and pull them up, as if gauging the size. He holds his breath as your hair grazes the front of his chest.

‘They’re a bit loose, to be honest,’ you tell him.

He scoffs self-decrepatingly. ‘Probably not for long at the rate I’m going.’

You take a step back and level him with a glare. ‘Stop it.’

He frowns, hackles rising. ‘What?’

‘Stop putting yourself down.’

That he didn’t expect. He protests, ‘I’m not putting myself down -’

‘Yes, yes, you are,’ you interrupt him with a boldness that has his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. With fire in your eyes, you go toe to toe with him, poking him in the chest with a firm finger. ‘You’re alive, you’re safe here, and you’re fit as hell. If you’re going to make fun of yourself for putting on a bit of healthy weight, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.’

Warmth blooms in his chest as Joel stares down at you, breathing heavily after your little speech but showing no intention of backing down. You don’t know him, but for some reason, you’re fighting his corner.

That shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Pursing his lips, he towers over you as he teases, ‘You think I’m fit as hell, sweetheart?’

With a roll of your eyes, you walk backwards to the shelves, rummaging through the sizes before returning with a pair of dark wash jeans. You quip, ‘Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.’

You snap the curtain shut in his face with a flick of your wrist before he can answer, and he chuckles to himself as pulls on the jeans you picked out for him.

When he pushes open the curtain again, Joel doesn’t miss the way you pause as you stare.

The waistband sits on his hips without cutting into his stomach, and he’s pleased that he can comfortably slide his hands into the pockets. The denim wraps firmly, but not tightly, against his backside, holding his thighs comfortably and falling straight down to the ankles. The wash is dark and flattering, smarter than his old ones.

When the silence has stretched on long enough, Joel shifts on his feet and asks, ‘Well?’

You turn the question back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re alright, I guess.’

With a tilt of your head, you prompt, ‘You can say it, you know.’

‘Say what?’

‘You can say that you look good.’

Joel huffs, shaking his head and catching his reflection in the mirror as he does. At your look of insistence, he reluctantly parrots back, ‘Alright. I look good. Happy, sweetheart?’

Then you smile, really smile, and he feels himself soften - his eyes, his face, his mouth, his fucking old, rickety knees -

Suddenly, the bell over the door rings and a woman bustles in. ‘I’m so sorry, Pin! I know I’ve been gone a long time, but I got your favourite tea to make it up to you -’

She stops abruptly when she spots him. ‘Hey! You’re Joel Miller, aren’t you?’

Before he can answer, she crosses the shop in a bundle of energy, sticking her hand out. ‘I’m Lucy, I’m a friend of Tommy and Maria’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

He lets her shake his hand, then she continues without skipping a beat. ‘How are you settling in? You got that house in the street near the stables right? It’s great, it’s quiet but not too far from everything -’

Since she doesn’t seem interested in his participation in this conversation, he doesn’t. But he notices, with regret, the way you start to retreat, the shyness making a return in the shadow of her clearly more outgoing friend - like a bad habit.

He’s suddenly aware of a lull, and that Lucy is looking at him expectantly, like she’s just asked a question that he didn’t hear.

‘Yeah sure,’ he replies dismissively, stopping you with a hand on your wrist just as you try to slink away unnoticed. ‘Hey, wait a second -’

To Lucy’s credit, she picks up on the snub and the energy between the two of you at the same time. Instead of taking offence, she gives you a knowing look and points towards the back diplomatically. ‘You know what Pin, I just bumped into Maria and she asked me something about our fabric inventory, so I better go check it out. I’ll see you around, Joel.’

With a wink in your direction, Lucy makes herself scarce, leaving the tea on the counter for you.

Joel’s quiet for a beat when you’re left alone again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off your friend, but I just wanted to uh - thank you. For all this.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Like she said, I’m Joel. Probably should’ve introduced myself before I asked you to cut me out of my jeans.’

You quip, ‘There’s always next time.’

He chuckles, and asks, ‘Did your friend just call you - Pin?’

‘It’s just a silly nickname,’ you explain. ‘As in pins and needles, for obvious reasons.’

Then you give him your real name and your hand, his palm warm and calloused against yours as he shakes it firmly. When he lets you go, you notice the watch on his wrist, the veins of broken glass on the face catching the light. 

Nodding at it, you ask, ‘Do you need that fixed? There’s a repair guy down the road who can fix anything.’

Confused for a moment about what you’re referring to, Joel pauses before realisation dawns on him. His answer is suddenly polite, a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation just now. ‘No, I - I like it this way. But thanks.’

You don’t miss the emotional weight behind his words, and the air thickens with unspoken meaning, but you know better than to ask. 

‘I understand,’ you say simply.

Everyone has something like the watch is to him. God knows you do. A moment of quiet understanding passes between you, one that needs no words.

Breaking the silence, he says, ‘So, you mentioned I’ll need to trade in something else for these jeans -’

You dismiss that notion with a wave of your hand. ‘Oh no, it’s ok. I got it.’

‘You don’t have to -’

You shut him down. ‘It’s not a big deal, it will take me two minutes to replace the zipper.’

He hesitates. ‘And the boxers -’

Passing him his jacket, you insist, ‘Seriously, Joel, don’t worry about it.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it from you and shrugs it on. You try not to look too conspicuously when the bottom of his shirt draws up, flashing a bit of tummy, but it’s gone too quickly. With a nod, he concedes reluctantly, ‘You really shouldn’t, but thank you. I owe you one.’

You roll your eyes with no real exasperation as you walk him towards the exit. ‘I know you haven’t been here for long - that’s just how things work around these parts. We do things for each other, you don’t owe me anything.’ Pulling the door open, you give him one last grin. ‘Welcome to Jackson, Joel.’

‘Thanks, Pin,’ he says as he crosses the threshold. He pauses on the porch and looks around the high street slowly, as if he’s taking it in for the first time. He then turns to you with a parting wink that is charged with easy confidence. ‘I think I’ll like it here.’

You linger by the door, leaning against the frame as he jogs down the front steps with a swagger, watching in appreciation at the way his new jeans frame his backside. You smile when he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks away, the afternoon breeze ruffling his curls and the sun warming his broad shoulders.

You think you’ll like him here as well.

Notes: As I was writing this, I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Grays 🙈 What can I say? I want to give middle-aged men in need of self-love all the reassurance that they need. I hope you enjoyed Pin and Joel's meet-cute, I'm honestly so nervous about this fic I had to stop myself from compulsively over-editing.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 🥰

P.S. Apparently, there is a Main Street Outfitter in the game, so I ran with it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully - Part 2

Summary : Your new life as Geto and Gojo's personal fuck toy has begun. You thought you'd get a moment of peace when you and all your classmates went out for drinks...but why would you assume something so silly?

a/n : Aight you degenerates (with love) here's part 2. Hope you like it. I made it extra long and extra filthy for you, you better appreciate it.

Disclaimer : Contains Bully Gojo and Geto X Fem reader. Free use dynamic. Humiliation. Like a lot of humiliation. Public indecency. Exhibitionism. Pantsing. Dub con warning.

Taglist : @xstormstriderx @lovely-lady-tits @brianmaysclog @obanais-biggest-fan @sp1dermanluvr @spongesquid04 @krishnaabhistha @ihateuguys @misscaller06 @ksvvvn @collectionofdolls @otakuweebs-world @winterlovessanemi

Geto sighed as he walked out of the bathroom, steam following him from the hot shower he just enjoyed. A towel wrapped around his waist and his wet hair dripping over his shoulders, he took a second to look at himself in the mirror, noting that his physique had grown a bit more sculpted thanks to all of their work.

"You better hurry it up." he said, addressing the other people in his room as he opened his closet and grabbed his clothes, "We need to leave in like, ten minutes."

"Fu- ah- ah- mmhm- ah!"

"Yeah, yeah." Gojo grunted, gritting his teeth, "I'm almost done."

Geto chuckled as he started getting dressed, the sound of your moans and pleas almost like background noise. Gojo had you on your hands and knees on Geto's bed, the white haired man pounding into you from behind mercilessly. Both of you were still dressed in your uniforms, your pants and underwear simply pulled down while Gojo just fished his dick out.

"Thought you would keep it in your pants long enough to not delay us from leaving, Satoru." Geto said as he pulled up his trousers.

"Huh?" Gojo responded, hips still thrusting into you, too focused on his pleasure, "You say something?"

Geto rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed before grabbing you by the back of the head and pushing you down harshly. You yelped as your face collided with the mattress, your moans now muffled by the fabric. Geto's grip on your was rock solid, rendering you unable to move an inch.

The man clicked his tongue at you in annoyance, "So fucking loud...anyway," he turned back to Gojo, "I said, I thought you'd be able to not fuck her when we need to leave soon."

"I- shit - I wasn't planning on fucking her." Gojo said, raising his hand before giving your ass a sharp slap, making you squeal into the mattress, "But I was just casually groping her tits and fuck- got horny~"

Geto sighed, letting go of your head and finally letting you breathe, smirking as he heard you gasp and take in deep breaths. "Well, if the others get mad at us for being late, i'm blaming you."

"Blame this bitch." Gojo said, giving you another spank, "Not my fault she's so fuckable. Isn't that right? Hmm?" another slap to the ass and you knew your skin was turning a flaming hot red, "Why don't you apologize to us, hmm?"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry~" you babbled, head in the clouds as you took your pounding, Gojo's balls slapping against your clit every-time he thrust in, "i'm sor-ry for being s-so fuckable- ah!"

Gojo barked out a laugh, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his pleasure, loving how pathetic you were for him. Once he cums inside you, he was going to take a picture to add to his collection under the folder : Sex toy~, just as he always did.

~~~~~

After that night in the classroom, after Gojo and Geto took turns fucking you and making you cum over and over again on their tongues, fingers and cocks- you were now their personal toy. To bully. To play with. To fuck whenever they wanted.

They left you in that room on the floor, pussy dripping with cum, your chest covered in white and your jaw aching from all the sucking. But before they left, they made sure to take plenty of pictures before Geto told you:

"You're our personal fuck toy from now on, understand? We wouldn't want these pictures to float around now, do we?"

A silent threat but everyone involved knew you didn't need to be threatened. And ever since then, this was the life you've accepted.

Wake up naked between the two men, still exhausted after a long night of sex. Gojo's mouth would be on your nipple or Geto's hand would be between your legs, having slept in that position. They'd grope you some more as you wiggle out of bed, your movements waking them up as well. After taking a shower and getting dressed, you'd head to class where you had to deal with their bullying as usual. In front of the others, they were the same nuisances but behind their backs, they'd grope your ass, squeeze your tits, swipe through your nudes on their phone in front of you-

Geto one time cornered you in the hallway, making sure no one was around before he gripped your top and lifted it up, exposing your bra covered chest. You whined and stayed still as he harshly pulled the cups of your bra down enough for your nipples to pop out, the man immediately bending down and sealing his lips over them. You slapped a hand over your mouth, body trembling as his sinful tongue suckled on your nipple like he was trying to milk you, knowing full well how sore your nipples would be later.

Gojo was starting to form a habit of taking a shower with you everyday. He'd break into the bathroom while you showered, regardless of when you were taking it. He always had a sixth sense and knew when you were cleaning yourself. You learned you lesson when you tired to take a shower at 2 in the morning, only for Gojo to break into your room and barge in anyway. He didn't appreciate you trying to shower without him at some ungodly time which was how you ended up with an ass spanked hot red, preventing you from sitting down without wincing in pain for two days straight.

In public, they harassed you discreetly, the others not noticing anything off about your dynamic, but little did they know that right before everyone sat down and waited for class to start, the two of them fucked your face in the hallway. You excused your red face and told everyone it was due to a cold- and not because the two men slapped your face with their heavy dicks before.

And all of that happened within the span of a few days and you had no doubt it would just get more and more intense. You couldn't help but shiver as your mind was brought back to the present, walking along a wide yet abandoned street with your group of friends.

Everyone decided to go out drinking, a celebration marking the end of a long week of exorcising curses. Utahime invited you along with, Nanami, Shoko, MeiMei, Haibara and of course, Gojo and Geto. After Gojo came on your ass, you quickly cleaned up and got back in your uniform to join the group just as they were about to leave. Utahime snapped at Gojo and Geto, accusing them of being bad influences and making you arrive late as well. They simply joked and waved it off, the group thankfully not noticing your blushing face.

Everyone naturally divided into smaller pairs as you walked on the road, Utahime claiming this was a shortcut. You, Geto and Gojo trailed behind the rest of them, a few steps slower but still able to involve yourself in conversation and respond when you need to. You laughed as MeiMei told everyone another story about how she managed to extort money off of some random guy, a momentary peace among the chaos you'd come to expect.

There's no way they'd try anything when you were right behind the group, right?

Right?

You were too focused on listening to their conversation and having deluded yourself with the false confidence, that you failed to see Geto and Gojo slow down their pace so they were a step behind you- and you failed to notice Geto pull his phone out and start recording- two actions that would normally have you on guard.

You were only reminded of them again when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, Gojo's long fingers digging into the fabric of your pants but before you could say anything or even move your head to look at him-

He tightly fisted your pants and pulled them down in one fell swoop.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming as your other hand went between your legs despite that doing nothing to help your situation. You were in public- right behind your group of friends with your pants on the ground- bare legs and panties exposed to the world.

Blood rushed to your face so fast it almost made you dizzy, quickly bending down to pull your pants up before anybody saw you. Your only focus was to cover yourself back up so you just had to ignore the fact that when you bent down, you were practically showing off your panty covered pussy and ass to your two bullies.

As you grabbed your pants, you could feel Gojo hook a finger into the crotch of your panty before pulling it aside, exposing your bare pussy to the cold evening air. With a wink to the camera, he leaned forward and took a greedy lick of your cunt, tongue dragging from your clit upto your hole. He would have kept eating you out were it not for you pulling you pants back up and straightening your body. And it was just in time too as Utahime looked behind her shoulder, wondering why the footsteps behind her stopped.

Luckily for you, your pants were pulled up and all she saw was Gojo and Geto laughing at you.

"Hey! Are you two bullying her again?" Utahime snapped, taking note of your red face which she chalked up to frustration, "You're so annoying! Leave her alone!"

"Just friendly banter, Utahime." Gojo said, still in his crouched position on the ground, "Isn't that right?" he asked, directly addressing you. You gulped as you looked into Gojo's piercing blue eyes, eyes that always took your breath away. You could tell Utahime about what actually happened and you knew, even if it was Gojo, the others would rush to your side to help-

"I-It's fine, Senpai." you said, trying to keep your voice stable, ignoring Geto's snort of laughter behind you, "they're just teasing."

"Well, if you say so." Utahime said, pouting, "But you tell me if they're annoying you too much!"

"Oh, and what are you gonna do about it, Utahime?" Gojo teased, hopping back on his feet to skip towards the group, "You're a weakling, afterall~"

"Hey! Watch your manners!"

You stiffened as Geto walked up behind you, the man throwing an arm around your shoulder before the two of you started walking, a few steps behind the group. His fingers kept brushing against the curve of your chest, not enough to feel good but enough for your nipples to harden, Geto even running his fingers in circles gently over the hardened bud.

"Fucking slut~" he growled into your ear, "You'll just let us do anything to you, won't you? Oh, dinner's gonna be fun~"

"Y-You're seriously not gonna- not while everyone's around!" you whispered to him, whimpering as he suddenly gripped you tit tightly, giving it a greedy grope before letting go.

"And why do you think that? You're pretty fucking stupid, aren't you?"

Before you could say anything, Geto pushed you towards the group, both of you seamlessly joining the others as you walked. You couldn't focus on the conversation anymore, your mind only filled with countless possibilities of what Geto and Gojo were going to do to you. You gulped, hoping that the others won't see the nervous look on your face and hoping that the two men won't notice the way you were pressing your thighs together as you walk.

But of course they noticed.

~~~~~

Ok. Ok! This was ok!

A semi-crowded restaurant with bright lights. Sure, the table that was given to the group was against a wall and the three of you were sitting on the couch against said wall- and yes, the table had a long tablecloth that covered your bottom halves- but even so, they surely wouldn't do anything-

Right?

"Here you go." Nanami said, handing you a copy of the menu. You thanked the man, getting up from your seat so you could reach it, the man sitting diagonal to you. Gojo and Geto were sitting on either side of you, pressing against your sides. Fortunately - or unfortunately- nobody else wanted to share seats with the two bullies so the others adjusted themselves accordingly, leaving you at their mercy.

But since it was public and everyone was around, they'd behave themselves-

Just as you were starting to sit down, you felt the two of them grab fistfuls of your pants before they started dragging it down and within a fraction of a second, your bare ass was against the cushion and your pants were pooled down on the floor.

Oh fuck.

Blood rushed to your face, your cheeks and ears turning a bright red as you took in your predicament, so taken aback by the situation that you barely processed Gojo copping a feel of your butt. Your body trembled as you gripped onto the menu tighter, a hundred things rushing through your mind. You were pansted by these two assholes in a restaurant and the only reason no one realized was because of the table cloth covering you.

"Hey, everything ok?" Shoko asked, noticing your red face and wide eyes, "You look like you've seen a ghost. There are no curses around, right?"

"Oh- no - I- um-" you sputtered, brain lagging as you couldn't think of anything to say. But thankfully, Geto swooped in, taking the menu from your hand and starting to flip the pages.

"I think she's nervous cause we're getting alcohol." he teased as he looked through the drinks, "Poor baby doesn't wanna have a big girl drink? Maybe we can get you some milk in a sippy cup?"

"Sh-shut up!" you squeaked, his teasing now excusing your red face as you snatched the menu back from him, "I've had alcohol before! I'm an adult!"

"Oh, really?" Gojo asked, leaning into you obnoxiously, placing an elbow on your head as he applied his weight on you, "Then has this big strong adult had sex before?"

"Gojo!" Utahime barked before you could say anything, "Stop being nasty- hey, you can come sit by me if you'd like." the woman offered to you. But how could take her up on the offer? There's no way you could move- not when your pants were still on the ground. Besides, even if you did move- there's no telling what the two of them would do to compensate.

"I-It's okay." you said, trying you best to sound nonchalant, "I've gotten pretty comfortable here."

"Yeah, stop butting in!" Gojo said with a pout, "You think we're bullying her but it's all fun and games! You just don't get how we joke, Utahime."

"Again- have some manners!"

As the group got louder, arguments between Gojo and your senpai mixed with the others figuring out what to order, your mind raced, trying to figure out how to get your pants back on (a predicament you'd never imagine being in). Maybe you could drop a utensil, get under the table and use that as leverage to pull your pants back up...

But almost like he could read your mind, you saw your phone (which you had thankfully taken out of your pockets and placed on the table before your pants were pulled down) brighten up with the signs that you got a message. Geto bumped you lightly with his elbow, a silent order that you needed to read that message. With a gulp, you picked up the phone, eyes widening slightly as you read a text from the raved haired man:

If you try to put your pants back on, we're taking off your panties too.

Fuck.

"So, is everyone ready to order?" Nanami asked, offering to keep track of what everyone wanted so they could give it to the waiter. You managed to squeak out your decision, hoping that the alcohol will excuse any redness that would definitely be on your cheeks. You jumped as you felt Geto start to grope your butt as well, the man running his warm palm in circles over a cheek before his fingers started tugging at the fabric of your panties.

The environment faded into the background and your body was on autopilot mode. You were reacting appropriately to things that you weren't even processing, shoveling the food into your mouth without sensing any of the flavor, downing the alcohol without registering the burn of the liquid. All you could think about was how you were in your panties with the two men groping you to their hearts content.

At one point, Geto grabbed your panties harshly and started pulling up, making you squeal as gave you a wedgie, your underwear pulled tight against your cunt, the cloth now lodged between your ass-cheeks, making you look even lewder. Gojo let out a low whistle, pulling his phone out before discretely taking a picture, Geto holding up a peace sign next to your butt.

After pocketing his phone and pretending to be invested in other conversation, you shivered as Gojo slid his hand to your thigh, caressing your soft skin for a second before sliding it between your legs. You pressed your thighs together, trying to deter his movements but Geto simply grabbed a knee and pulled harshly, giving you no choice but to spread them. You prayed to any deity out there that nobody would drop anything that makes them go under the table as they could easily see what was happening and you'd never live it down.

MeiMei was saying something to you as Gojo's fingers found their way to your pussy, giving your mound a gentle pat pat pat before he started running his fingers up and down your slit. Your pussy was drenched, the humiliation and risk of the situation making your body run hot, Gojo's satisfying snickers telling you that he could feel your wetness even through your panties.

Geto eventually got his hand between your legs as well, softly laughing as his fingers touched Gojo's hand before he fingered the fabric of your panties and simply pulled them aside to expose your pussy. Your bare pussy. Out in the open. Just a tablecloth away from everyone seeing.

Even picturing it put you on edge- the hypothetical faces of disgust directed at you from friends and strangers alike. They'd call you a whore- a slut- a dirty woman who's being touched in public-

"Fuck- you're so fucking wet~" Geto purred into your ear as his fingers found their way to your opening, drawing circles over it, "Nasty bitch~"

"Are you surprised?" Gojo asked, not as careful as the others were tipsy enough they weren't paying attention to their conversation, "Getting off on being humiliated like this- what a pathetic little rat!"

"Spread those legs wider, bitch. Yeah, that's it~ Good little slut~"

You couldn't help yourself as you obeyed Geto's command, spreading your legs wider and giving them more room to touch. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Geto slid two fingers inside you, starting off strong thanks to how wet you were. He started thrusting them in and out, in and out, in...and...out...curling them deliciously inside you. Gojo's fingers were rubbing circles over your clit, the perfect balance of gentle as rough as he toyed with your sensitive bud.

You were grateful that the sound of people talking and music was drowning out the nasty noise of your pussy getting fingered, Geto hitting your g-spot with practiced ease, your juices starting to stain the cushion of the couch and you could only imagine what the worker would think about said stain when you all left, the very thought making your ears a bright red. You sipped at your drink, trying your best to bite down your moans, your body trembling under their touch. Gojo was scratching at your clit with his nail, the pleasurable pain making you jump with every flick. Your legs were shaking and your toes were curling, your grip on your glass tightening and you were worried you might even crack it.

"woah, hey." Haibara said, eyes wide as he looked at you, "Maybe you should stop drinking? You look pretty drunk."

You couldn't even imagine what you looked like but no doubt your face was as red as a tomato, your panting fogging up the glass against your lips. But instead of stopping, the two of them suddenly picked up the pace, making you lurch forward and slam your head against the table. You didn't know how else to cover up your expressions, ecstasy plastered on your face as they finger fucked you.

"Oh my-" Nanami said, eyes wide, "Did she pass out?"

"Hmm? Did she?" Geto asked, leaning over to you like he wasn't knuckles deep inside you cunt, "You awake, dumb little bitch?"

"Hah! Some adult she is." Gojo teased, poking you on the back of your head, his fingers almost a blur as he rubbed at your clit in a fast pace, your juices flying everywhere, "Can't even handle her alcohol."

"Hmm, maybe we should take her home." Shoko said, "wouldn't want her to get hurt."

"Ah, but the night's barely begun!" Utahime complained, already drunk.

"We can take her home." Gojo suggested, surprising everyone with his thoughtfulness, "I'm kinda tired anyway. C'mon Suguru, let's pick her up-"

You immediately sat back up and straightened yourself, eyes wide and heart pounding in your chest. His silent threat to make sure you got back up was noted, Gojo definitely more than capable of picking you up and showing everyone your bare bottoms, panty pulled to the side.

"S-Sorry." you said, your voice noticeably slurred, "I just needed a second- i'm good."

"You sure?" MeiMei asked.

"Y-Yeaaah!" you babbled, body thrumming as the boys picked up the pace again, "S-Super good- let's k-keep drinking!"

Deciding to not argue, everyone cheered, still eager to drink the night away. You leaned back against the couch cushion, your body slightly slouching as you hoped the others couldn't see the way your body was twitching from how vigorously Geto was fucking your cunt.

And Oh. Oh.

Oh, you were going to cum.

You whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes at the inconceivable pleasure. In the span of a few days, these two assholes managed to figure out just which buttons to press- just how to curl their fingers and just how you like to have your clit rubbed. But were you really gonna do it? Were you really gonna cum here and now? In public? In front of everybody? How were you even going to hide it?

Gojo leaned back as well, his shoulder pressed against yours while still having easy access to your clit. "If you want to pull your pants back up," he said, loud enough for you to hear, "You have to cum."

"B-B-But-"

"B-B-but~" Gojo mocked with a laugh, raising his pitch to match your voice, "Pathetic. Just do as I say or i'll slam you on this table, rip these panties off and spread your pussy wide open for everyone to see."

"Th-they'll notice if I c-cum now-" you gasped out, toes curling and the familiar knot in your abdomen making itself known, just seconds away from snapping.

"Sounds like a you problem." Gojo said, "So, what's it gonna be?"

"I-I don't have a choice!"

"Finally, that tiny brain of yours figured it out. Now cum, you dirty bitch~"

With the final order, your body moving ahead of you, you came. But what took you by total surprise, was Geto surging forward and kissing you. You yelped into the kiss, his tongue getting shoved down your throat as you climaxed, his fingers still thrusting in and out of you. Gojo hooted at the sight, rubbing at your clit mercilessly, his phone out to film as he watched you cum, your only saving graze being Suguru. The others gasped, eyes wide and jaws open as they watched the raven haired man make out with you, never expecting that to happen.

Pleasure hit you like a truck, your orgasm so intense you felt like you were close to blacking out. You panted and moaned like a bitch in heat, all of your noises being swallowed by Geto's tongue in your mouth, the man's piercing eyes open to see every expression. And what a treat it was. You looked pathetic and broken, your body trembling and your pussy gushing around him, some of no doubt staining the floor at this point. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head and your fingers gripped him tightly, you were a sight to marvel at.

"Hey, where's my kiss?"

You felt a hand in your hair just as the orgasm was about to wash over you, your scalp being tugged at as you were forced to break up the kiss with Geto only for Gojo to take his place. Your eyes widened and everyone gasped again as Gojo kissed you, the lip lock with him filthy- all tongue and no love. Just how he liked it.

Oh, they weren't done with you. Not by a long shot. You still had a long night ahead.

~~~~~

Part 3 will be out soon(ish)! This was getting way too long lmao so look forward to some filthy sex in the next part!

[ovaryacted]

Really random but dad bod DI Leon🤤🤤🤤 (I really love DI Leon if you couldn’t tell) like I love Leon w abs, and his hourglass shape but just him cuddling w you and being so warm and soft😢 (or when y’all are making love and his tummy just has us fitting together like puzzle pieces and it’s LIKE OMGMGM😭😭😭😭😭)

-🐏

cw: descriptions of body changes, internalized fatphobia, smutty thoughts/acts.

OHHHHHH DAD BOD LEON IS MY VICE PLEASE OH MY FUCKING GOD. LIKE RAHHHH, I NEED IT BAD. Ram anon, I'm on to you.

The changes happen after a year into his forced retirement, he doesn't realize it until he becomes more aware of the way your arms feel wrapping around his soft torso. Once adorned with hard muscle, his body now was covered in a layer of skin that expanded over time. He still had the same physique and the same capacity for strength, but there was an added softness he’d acquired recently that sent his head in for a spin.

Retirement has been good for Leon, he no longer has to deal with the hecticness of mission briefings and assignments. He gets to actually rest, his usual overactive nervous system now rendered down and becoming more manageable. The first couple of weeks he spent falling asleep in bed or on the couch, like his body was playing catchup on the energy that's been robbed from him over the years. You didn’t bother him about it, didn’t even judge him whenever you’d find him limp on the bed and snoring in the middle of the day.

You'd use that time to run errands or do chores around your shared home, often preparing meals for him whenever he'd wake up groggily to go look for you. Eating homemade meals that were made with love certainly started to add up, the consistent intake of food was new and apparently something that his body liked and needed. The constant nausea he often experienced when he was under so much stress went away, slowly learned how to enjoy eating again like he did years before he was forced to become an agent.

He never focused on his appearance most days, but as Leon stopped to observe himself in the mirror one morning, his eyes were fixated on his body. He's certainly changed after a while, stomach a little fuller and cheeks more plump than before, hell even his arms and thighs looked bigger. His initial reaction to the change would have been disgust, to put himself back on a routine to regain the muscle he's lost and to critique every imperfection that would eventually be another nuisance.

But as he looked at himself a little longer, a smile crept up on his face, not minding what he saw for probably the first time in his life. All he saw was your love for him, how the signs of you taking care of him after all this time were starting to reflect in how he looked. He was healthy, he was alive, and that was a win in his book.

You certainly didn't mind the changes either and took every opportunity to remind Leon of just how much you adored him. Cuddling him whenever you could was something that became a ritual between the two of you, sneaking under his arm and digging your face into his chest any chance you got. He was soft, warm, and just a tad bit squishy. He was human, he was himself, not some war machine meant to work like a dog day and night.

One of your favorite things about his new appearance was the intimate moments you both shared and how he felt around you both internally and externally. You loved getting on your knees and worshipping him, sucking over his cock lavishly and running your hands over his thick thighs, biting at them when Leon found himself lost in pleasure.

Or when you were riding him and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours was louder than before, his lower tummy rubbing into you, meshing together so well one would think you were part of the same whole. It made you feral, like a primal instinct to claim him and show him that all you wanted was to make him feel accepted in this new body. Leon didn't complain, he loved how your attraction to him seemed to skyrocket.

Maybe being a bit more soft wasn't so bad after all.

[angelltheninth]

So I just fell into the rabbit hole that is COD and am currently obsessing over König and Ghost. How do you think they would both react to a S.O who is into primal play? Like convincing them both to chase and hunt their S.O through the woods. And if they catch her/him they get a reward?

I love primal play! So much adrenaline and it just needs to go somewhere!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley, König x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, primal play, outdoor sex, predator/prey kink, breeding kink, mating press, creampie, kifeplay, size difference, begging, slight dub-con

A/N: Lost in the Woods but it's sexy.

Simon doesn't need much to be scary, his mask already does the job well enough and his large frame is more then build to play the role of someone who's chasing you

Until he hears a safeword he knows not to stop, no matter what, and he won't

He's like a tank when he's running through the woods, almost like there aren't any obstacles in his way

Well there is one, his cock which throbs more every time he catches a glimpse of you

You can, and will, take care of that once he catches you

Lets you know how easy it is to do so

He'll pin you to a tree, breathe and growl against your neck, give you a taste of his cock, make you suck him just enough so he can run at full speed again and then he'll let you get away again

Like cat and mouse he'll do this until he bores of it, upon which he becomes a lion and holds you to the ground, your squirming rendered futile, your hole wet and ready for his throbbing cock

He's not satisfied with just filling up your pussy, he wants to see your whole body bathed in his cum, your pussy, your tits, your ass, your stomach, your face, your thighs, your back

You said you would be his prize, his reward if he caught you, so act like it and let him fuck you as many times as he sees fit until he has to carry you back as your legs are worse then useless by the time he's done with you

König likes the chase, he likes it a lot, he was interested in the idea of it ever since you first admitted that you'd like to give it a try

He prepared a few things in advance, secret from you, it's not fun if you know all of his tricks right away

Likes to follow you but remain largely unseen for the most part

Wants to really build up your adrenaline, he wants to see you sweat as you don't know which direction he could be coming from until it's too late and he's pouncing on you to hold you down

With his muscular built holding you down is nothing

You can feel his cock throbbing against you while he ruts into you with little semblance of control to speak of

He takes out his hunting knife and presses the flat of the blade against your face, then your neck watching as you gulp, your eyes never leaving his, not even when he cuts through your clothes and leaves them in tiny shreds

He holds your writs down with one hand and pulls your legs up on his shoulders by the other, keeping you from moving as the tip of his cock finds the entrance to your pussy, drenched with your arousal, your body giving away your desires

Waits for a final nod from you, waits for you to present like good prey

On the first stroke he's already balls deep, slapping away, barely taking his cock out because of how good your pussy feels when it's being opened and taken by him in such a merciless way

[meowpupp]

tw// rough sex, bondage, not proof read, price is mean (shock horror ik)

i wasn’t gonna post this yet but i just couldn’t resist.

price tries so hard. He is an owner who firmly believes in positive re-enforcement, praising you when you're good, and ignoring you when you're bad. But even he has a limit.

For the past week, you've been a brat. You've broken into the treats twice, ignored his commands and you even tried to bite him. He tries everything he knows, spanking you, taking your toys away, even smacking you across the face, but nothing works.

That's when he decides enough is enough. You need a real mean punishment, something to remind you how nice he is. How well he treats you.

So, he visits the vet. He buys a cream that’s made to numb the skin. Its specially made for hybrids, to use as a form of punishment. It'll take away any physical feeling, leaving you understimulated, while still keeping that uncontrollable need for release.

Part of price feels bad, he shouldn't enjoy the thought of fucking you while you can't feel a thing as much as he does, but he really cant help it

He waits, like a predator stalking prey, watching for the smallest slip up. All it takes is for you to speak with the slightest hint of attitude, and then he pounces.

within seconds he has you on the bed, legs spread, cunt exposed to his sadistic gaze. One hand holds your thighs apart, the other reaching for the tube of numbing cream. Your eyes are wide as you watch, your body squirming. A mix of fear and curiosity courses through your veins and it only heightens when price slaps your thigh. “Stay still.”

Your clit twitches as he smears the cold, white cream over it. He grins, watching the way your thighs tense and your hips buck. Price revels in the slow realisation that spreads over your face, you cant feel a thing.

your thighs twitch, ears pressing flat against your head as your pout. “can’t- price! can’t feel anything!” your voice is high pitched, slightly panicked, your hands reach down to try to stimulate your clit.

price huffs, momentarily pausing his actions as he retrieves a pair of handcuffs, securing both your wrists to the head board.

your body stretches out, back forming a natural arch as you’re rendered helpless. you try to squirm but it’s fruitless. your body is completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

price grins, eyes devouring the image of you. his hands grope your tits, thumbs brushing across your nipples before he glides his hands further down. they follow the curve of your waist, his hands big enough to cover almost your entire stomach.

“so pretty, but such a brat,” it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself, eyes half lidded as they drift up and down your body. “maybe you learn to be a good girl if your cunt is numb.” he leans forward, kissing the hallow of your neck. his lips continue their trail, beard brushing your skin as he kisses down your chest, then stomach, until his face is level with your cunt.

he noses your clit, grinning when you don’t react. the cream is doing exactly what he wanted it to. “what’s wrong pup?” his breath is hot against you, beard itching your thighs, “doesn’t it feel good?” his eyes meet yours, lower half of his face buried between your legs.

they’re mean, filled with amusement at your inability to feel pleasure. his arms wrap around your thighs, burying himself fully in your cunt.

he laps at your clit, swirling his tongue around the nerves before sucking. all you can feel is the scratch of his beard, the way he holds you firm. your hands pull desperately against the cuffs, hips bucking into his face as you seek the pleasure you’ve become so accustomed to.

after a moment, once his face is covered in slick, he pulls back. his beard is slick, eyes sharp as he looks over your flushed form. he almost seems like a predator, enjoying your every twitch and whine. “i know, im so mean, aren’t i?” a hand comes to your tummy, rubbing over the soft pudge before moving to your cunt, “how bout i make you feel better, hm?”

you’re too busy babbling and squirming to notice how he coats two of his fingers in the numbing cream, right before he stuffs your cunt full with them.

the sensation of his fingers inside you only lasts a second, then it’s completely stripped away. it’s almost funny the way your cunt clenches around his fingers, seeking out an ounce of stimulation it can. price laughs under his breath, drinking in the scene. you’re panting, body tense and hot, the overwhelming need to cum burning in your gut. he tilts his head, a sick smirk spreading across his face.

“you look so pathetic,” he pulls his fingers out, wiping the slick on your thighs, “maybe i should take some photos, give them to my recruits,” he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his, “would you like that? knowing men you don’t even know are cumming on photos of you?”

you can barely process his words, tears starting to stream down your face. little whimpers fill the room, a pretty pout on your face.

price just laughs, shaking your head side to side roughly before letting go. his hands slide down to your thighs, spreading your cunt wide as he lines himself up. “let’s see if this cunt’s still useful, even if you can’t feel a fucking thing.”

[pupcuck]

ROTTEN LUCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. smut, kidnapping, leon is like mentally gone icl, references to past assault and trauma, non-con, manipulation, suicidal thoughts/reference to an attempt, general leon self destructive behaviour, physical abuse, power dynamics, throatfucking, choking, breath play, somno, 1 instance of drugging, unmentioned age gap, anal, he puts duct tape on your pussy ok just once promise it’s not bad, religious references, 1 mention of vomit and piss not in a sexual way, slight misogyny, panic attack

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

anyway, please ignore typos :3 rbs and feedback is very appreciated :3 my medical knowledge sucks, so keep in mind that all of this is off LMFAO crossposted to ao3 (user clitkiss)

two

Lucky. Leon hates that word. He wasn’t lucky to get out of Raccoon City, he was just barely capable, you have to be unlucky to get into that situation in the first place. You’re a lucky guy, Redfield had told him once, Chris not Claire. Claire isn’t daft. And Leon wonders what is so lucky about him. He’s forty-six and all he’s got is his trusty Matilda, his mother’s old Bible, and a failing liver. His luck is preordained by God and it’s a total sham.

Leon Kennedy’s the one who showed up to drill sessions smelling like sweat and cock. Kennedy’s the one that rolls over onto his front and takes it like a good doggy. Kennedy’s green behind the ears, pretty in the face, and that don’t fare well in a boot camp full of men twice his size. Kennedy’s the one brushing shoulders with the President, got the USA’s most prized dick in his mouth and everyone knows that he wouldn’t dare bite down. Golden boy Leon fucking Scott Kennedy would just go ahead and use his tongue to clean up Graham’s ballsack. And you’re calling that lucky? Bullshit.

The DSO’s modus operandi is strikingly similar to that of the BSAA. He is but a cog in a well oiled machine. There’s one difference, not a dog tag to his name. If he dies, then he’ll die nameless, and he’ll be cremated by something nuclear, and it’ll all be for nothing. Ain’t that just the luckiest thing you’ve ever heard?

He has tried to kill himself once or twice or thrice. He lost count after the fifth. The gun jammed once, a bad joke. Left Matilda rendered useless. Was meant to be him, not her. And if Leon’s being honest, every day is an avid attempt, as in the drinking and praying his liver gives out. Once he managed to get halfway there. Doesn’t remember a lot. Just blood. Lots of blood. Why couldn’t you be quiet about your grief, Leon? Claire’s expression had asked, how I am, how Chris is, how Jill is.

‘Cause he couldn’t. He had to go ahead and splatter his grief all over the linoleum floor. Maybe then someone would find him, and they’d mourn him, and they’d feel sorry for him ‘cause he’d pitied himself enough. Leon told her a joke, yapping away like one of those butterscotch lapdogs. Claire said that in South Korea you’re allowed to snip a dog's vocal cords to stop them from barking. Lucky I’m not in South Korea then. She handed him an orange prescription bottle with his name scrawled on it, and that was that. They didn’t speak for a few months.

Once upon a time Sherry needed him, now he needs her more. Needs her to laugh at his jokes, she’s the only one that does. And he needs her to tell him, I love you, Leon. She’s the only one that says that. No one puts up with him like Sherry does. She puts up with him in the way most women do their fathers. Love their dads unconditionally and nothing can ever fix that. Terrible illness that is. So, yeah, Leon Scott Kennedy is far from lucky. Lonely? Oh, for sure. God. He’s so lonely he feels sorry for himself. That’s one thing Leon has always been good at though. Lending himself a shoulder ‘cause no one else will.

His fingers brush yours in the record store. The hairs on the back of his neck stand. Jesus. Is it getting that bad? Leon’s been without a fuck for a few months and he’s already itching. That’s a new low. When Leon looks up to catch sight of who made his dick swell with their fingertips, he catches your eye briefly. A mousy little thing. Easily spooked it seems by the nervous smile you give him.

You’re on the phone, I don’t know what he likes anymore, dad, yeah—I’m trying to find it—Yes, I know who sang Sex and Candy, dad, Kurt Cobain right? Is that the one he likes? Dumbass. No, I’m not wrong, could you put mom on the phone—Hi mom, yes, I know he’s my brother, mom—Ever since he turned fifteen he stopped talking to me properly—I don’t know what she thinks, mom—

A mommy, daddy, a brother, a sister too he assumes. You’re what they call lucky. Nasty undertone you’re using with your parents. If Leon’s mom was still around he’d talk to her so sweet. She’d tell him to pray and Leon wouldn’t resist. Alright, Ma, Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus Tecum— then his voice would trail off, and he’d pretend to mouth the rest of the hymn ‘cause he remembers fuck all.

He wants to knock you around. Shake you till your brains scramble. Wants you to flinch even when he’s being nice. Leon’s nostrils flare when you raise your voice in the slightest, even if it’s playful, it’s plain rude. How dare you? He can’t even begin to fathom how incredibly lucky you are. The thought crosses Leon’s mind once, twice, thrice. Just how suicide did that day back in September. If you can kidnap the President’s daughter from her bustling college campus, throw her over your shoulder like salt, why can’t you kidnap Miss Nobody from a street corner in D.C?

Your figure is distinguished by a single, flickering street lamp. He sees your shadow. Recognises the silhouette by the shapely legs and how your belted coat flares out to create a dramatic hourglass, Leon’s got a good eye for detail. Oh, it’s kinda sexy watching you in the spotlight, like a makeshift cabaret show, go on babe, bust out the flapper dress, he knows his stuff, he read Gatsby back in high school. He listens out for the tap of your heeled boots, click-clack, click-clack, there you are, you don’t even know what’s about to happen, do you? And it really is that easy. Just like throwin’ salt over your shoulder.

Temazepam, loprazolam, lormetazepam, diazepam, nitrazepam. Some melatonin too. Magnesium’s supposed to help with insomnia. How’s he supposed to know what your body reacts to best? Leon’s not your fuckin’ GP. Chloroform does the trick for everyone. Should’ve invited you out for drinks and roofied you instead.

Leon had gone for an old-fashioned method, listen, he was desperate. He doesn’t usually resort to such bruteish tactics unlike the older Redfield, not that Chris would use a morsel of his strength to harm a lady, but it had to be done. Yes, he choked you out. No, he’s not proud of it. He’s actually pretty disappointed in his lack of preparation. Oh, cut yourself some slack, Kennedy, it’s your first time kidnapping someone, and it was a heat of the moment type thing. To Leon’s dismay, that doesn’t last long, duh, he should know better.

While you regain sluggish consciousness on his couch, Leon’s tearing through his kitchen cabinets for anything to settle you down. Ah. That’s right. Ketamine. Ain’t it horse tranquilliser? What’s that doing here? Honestly, he’s got to stop raiding the infirmary for all they’ve got. A high enough dosage will knock you out for sure. If it kills you, then so be it. Beer for guys, wine for the ladies, and Ketamine for random sluts he picks up on street corners.

You’re blinking to clear your hazy vision, feeling around your crushed windpipe to assess the damage, he leans over you like a nurse from hell. The needle breaks your skin easily, so tender, before you have the chance to kick up a fuss, your eyelids turn to lead and close like a toy babydoll’s do when you lean them back.

Fifteen to twenty minutes, google says. Leon gets down to business, strips you of your clothing, takes you to his room, throws you on the king-sized bed that’s warmed only by him. He kept your panties on. They’re light blue and sensible briefs. A buzzer rings out in his head, bzzzt, boring. A million bitches in D.C. and he picked out the most vanilla one. Just his Kennedy luck ain’t it.

One minute. Leon presses his nose to the fabric of your panties, sniffs like a pig does in its trough, isn’t that just the sweetest smell? Fresh cunt. He licks up the print of your pussy, tongue landing on the hardness of your clit.

Five minutes. With your panties soaked with Leon’s spit, he decides to move ‘em to the side, and he groans in delight when he parts your cushioned lips to find that you’re stickier than toffee pudding, drooly cunt reactive to the pads of his fingers, to the tip of his tongue. He pushes back the hood of your bud, gives it a kiss, then another.

Ten minutes. He’s opened you up, gaped you around three thick fingers, Jesus, you’re so tight. It’s like your cunt’s vacuum sealed. Leon’s fingers prod at the squishy opening of your cervix, his thumb circles your clit, presses down like a button and he’s rewarded with another gush of slick. Beer on tap.

You rouse from your forced slumber at fourteen minutes. Huh. He’ll have to up the dosage next time. “Hi there, sleepin’ beauty.” Leon says in a rather cloying voice, amping up the sweetness when in reality he is less than fond of you. The lucky girl. He strokes your head soothingly, hovers over you to keep you in place. The panic sets in almost immediately, flailing limbs, asinine attempts at sentences that crawl up your throat and spill over. Who are you, get off me, get off me, please. What did I do? I’m sorry, please, let me go, let me go, please, I’ll do anything. Albeit your words are slurred, Leon chooses not to hear you.

“Aintcha just the sweetest thing?” He cups your cheeks, gaze so gentle it’s disarming. “I opened you up, didn’t wanna break ya, just wanted you to wake up before we got it on, I’m a real gentleman, you see.” Before he rapes you, he makes sure to ask: you got a rubber by any chance, sweetheart? Oh, and you don’t like that, you really don’t. ‘Cause your face falls fast like a drop tower ride.

The chance to scream is lost on you when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushes them down your burning throat till you choke and drool in an unflattering manner. Your jaw is too lax to clamp down on him. Leon takes this opportunity to smear his leaky, fat tip over your folds, pushes past the barriers of resistance and slides into your pre-gaped cunt. Lucky bitch. Lucky fucking bitch. Getting yourself a piece of Leon S. Kennedy’s dick. He reserves that for only the finest ladies, aka any girl that has a nice set of tits and dark hair, greying roots are a new preference.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, head rubbing painfully against your cervix. Bruising it from the look of discomfort on your face as you make stupid-sounding noises around his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, that hits the spot.” When’s the last time Leon had his way with a girl, wanton fucking, pulling hair, slapping— they all want it soft and sappy these days. And so did he up until a certain point. Up until he tried to kill himself maybe. Something must’ve flipped in his brain, now he’s overcome with the need to mess your pretty face up.

Leon’s forehead presses to your clammy one, your sweat is salty on his tongue when he kisses your cheek. Slightly sour scent, ugh, what’s he saying? Acting like he’s a fear-smelling B.O.W or some shit. Fuck off, Kennedy. His hips aim upwards when your body shifts due to the thrashing you’re doing, with each thrust he bottoms out with a wet squelch, rolls his hips into you at a force that knocks any chance of breath out of you.

“If you were a good girl,” Leon smiles, all teeth. They glint in the muddy darkness of his room, black-out curtains drawn so not even the moon gets to see what he’s doing to you, “then I’d be fuckin’ you real slow, real nice, rub that little clit till you came.” Your wrists are both cuffed within his grip, pinned over your head as he drives into you, as if his intention is to tear straight through you.

The heat in his gut uncoils, but he’s timed himself well enough, pulls out ‘cause god forbid he knocked you up. Knowing Leon’s luck he’d manage it. Then he puts his cock in your mouth, “I got some pliers out back.” He says in warning as he jerks the shaft and your lips hesitantly close around the tip when he gives you a mean look. Total lie by the way, no matter how abnormal Leon is he does not own a pair of tooth-pulling pliers. Shoots his load down your throat, you splutter and push at his abdomen to get him off.

He pulls out in his own time, lays beside you. All of his chakras are aligned. Apparently there’s seven, but Leon’s only got two. And they’re entirely dependent on whether he’s sucked and fucked till he’s thoroughly satisfied. By god he is. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. That’s the rest of it right. He remembers now. You might just be his saving grace, Lucky Girl. His very own Sancta Maria, Mater dei. Damn, you hear that, ma? Leon’s got it down to a T. Maybe some more pussy will get him singing out the rest of the prayer. He can get rid of that statuette on the mantle, swap it out with you.

He doesn't get a word out by the time you’re vomiting a vile mixture of acidic yellow and his seed down the front of your chest. Retching as you choke on the gift he’d given you.

Leon takes you to the bathroom, forces you into the shower cubicle as he sprays you down, not even waiting for the water to go warm. “Dry yourself off,” he gestures mildly to where there’s a few towels stored.

You don’t come back out of the bathroom for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. Don’t even answer when he knocks. Goddammit, Leon. Leave your kidnap victim alone in the room with all the razors, why don’t you? Fucking idiot. When he opens the door, you’re huddled in the corner by the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl and sitting in a puddle of your own piss. Stupid fucking baby. Is this what kids are like these days? When he was your age he made it out of Raccoon City alive, and no one made it out of there. No one lived to tell that story. And you’re here pissing your pants ‘cause he’s given you a nice, hard fucking? He pimp slaps you so hard your teeth clatter.

It takes two weeks for his Lucky Girl to be broken in. Not as long as he expected, so he’s pleased. And when Leon’s pleased, he’s nice. So today you get some screen time. You’re curled into his side, the way a baby bird does under its mother’s wing, squinting at his sixty-five inch TV, egregious really, who needs a screen that big? He’s flipping periodically through the channels whenever an ad break comes on. The 7.45PM news is on. He settles on that and you watch mindlessly, no objections.

The speech blurs like white noise to him, Leon’s not focused until your picture pops up on screen, and he just turns to you with this shit-eating grin. Graduation cap and robe on, all dolled up as you make eyes at him through the screen.

“Baby,” he grins wolfishly, ruffles your hair in a teasing manner, “you look so damn cute there!” Leon watches bright-eyed, suddenly enthralled, they list your name, your height, your weight, all stuff he actually didn’t know ‘bout you. Never bothered to ask. You don’t need a name, you’re just his Lucky Girl. “Don’t like the red lip on you,” he comments flippantly, “A red lip is for whores, don’t you think, baby?”

He was right. You got a daddy, a mommy, a brother and a sister. You’ve got it all. Lucky fucking Girl. A broken sob is torn from your throat, jagged and scratchy as you fling yourself halfway across the room, on your knees as you put your grubby fingers all over his shiny screen. Leon lets you. He finds it hilarious actually. Who’d you think you are? Carol Anne from Poltergeist? Like you’re gonna get sucked into the screen, crawling out the other end like Sadako, back into your daddy’s arms.

Our daughter—My girl, she had her whole life ahead of her—My sister wouldn’t do this—She was so excited to move on after graduation—She’s not the type to run away—My daughter—My sister—Our sister—

Your mother is a mess, barely able to get words out with the way she’s blubbering. “She’s layin’ it on a bit thick, don’t you think, babe?” Leon picks up his beer from the side table, slightly heated under the burn of the lamp. “You look like your daddy, cry pretty like your mama though.”

You stare at him horrified. Jaw hanging open as if it’s unhinged, not in the way a snake does when ready to swallow its prey whole. More in the way of a screaming corpse. When the rigor mortis has worn off, secondary flaccidity sets in, and the mandible drops open. Jeez, tough crowd tonight it seems. Don’t make him sew your mouth up, Lucky Girl. Leon wouldn’t dare, that mouth, that throat is precious to him.

CCTV footage plays on the screen, another sob racks your brittle frame, you didn’t know it was him that day, Leon realises. “Oh, baby, that’s where we met, ain’t that funny?” A blurry image of you on the phone, prattling away to your family like the Lucky Girl you are, he’s just out of shot.

We miss her—Please, if you know anything, if you find anything—Please—

“God, let me get my phone, darling, they look so upset I can’t stand it. I might have to call them up and turn myself in. Give ‘em an early Christmas gift, don’t you think?” If Leon went missing, who would look for him? Hunnigan with all her sharp edges, or Claire with her unwilling loyalty to him? Lucky Bitch. It’s making his temper flare, that’s enough TV time for today.

The screen fades out, goes black when he switches it off. “No, no, no,” you chant, “no, no, no, no, please, please—“

“I’m disappointed in you, baby.” Leon says honestly, sips his beer and laughs mirthlessly. “I thought you’d started to like me.”

You’re not listening, too busy fitting on the rug, grasping at the screen as if you can pluck your family out of it and reunite with them on his living room floor. Leon did think you were getting used to him though. Family’s family, blood is thicker than water. Cum is also thicker than water. And that’s what he’s pumped down your throat nightly in hopes of it clogging up your brain, so you think of nothing but him. Those dogs in South Korea, the ones Claire told him about, he’s got his own special method to take care of your vocal cords. No snipping, no surgery needed. Just the throat training method.

“C’mere, lucky girl.” He clicks his tongue as if he’s calling out for a dog. You lay unmoving, rocking back and forth, whispering to yourself like a crazy person. Bit creepy. Leon stands, he grabs you by the hair and drags you to sit at his feet near the couch. Simple and effective. Backhands you for good luck. He needs it. “Stop your cryin’ I’m getting sick of it.” Leon says, brows wrinkled as he lowers his sweats, brings your head down to rest on his thigh. Your tear-stained cheeks turn him on, the doleful eyes, runny nose. It’s hot. His sad little girl.

“Suck it.” Leon taps the tip against your pouty lips, swollen from his earlier kisses, coats them in his pearly pre, “I won’t ask twice, sweetheart.” You open your mouth, take him like clockwork. He don’t like that attitude. So he pushes your head down on his cock, watches your throat bob, uncomfortably full. Leon pinches your nose, listens to how you panic so nice around a mouthful of dick, gagging in a way you never have before. Not a gag that indicates inexperience, but one that is full of sheer terror, nails leaving red marks on his thighs as you drag them down his skin. Ouch. He’s gotta trim those down.

“You get it now, babe?” Leon hums, he lets you off this time, “Do what I say and it’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Leon,” you nod furiously through gulps of air, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” Fuck. Another one of your panic attacks. He’s not got the patience to deal with this. “I won’t—“ A wheeze, “ I won’t do it—“ A croak, “I won’t do it again.” You’ve learned to handle yourself. Rub your chest with your right hand, stare at the ceiling till you calm down. Leon’s dick is still rock hard. Ready to crack open a walnut.

“Good girl,” he nods, “then get on with it.”

There is nothing you’ve done in particular to set Leon off. He’s just had a bad day. Hunnigan’s senses are much too acute, she thought something was off with him. That put him on edge. So he’s like a ticking time bomb. Just waiting for you to make one wrong move. And you do. You say no to him, pleadingly so, shaking your head as you look at him with your fairytale fawn eyes. Meekly admit that you’re sore and achy and it hurts.

“That’s not your decision to make, sweetheart.” Leon informs you, he grabs a roll of duct tape from the kitchen, nicks at the edge with his teeth and tears a strip off. You bristle, completely still, a thousand thoughts running through that pea-sized brain of yours. “But I’ll be nice today, been waitin’ to fuck your ass anyway.” He puts the strip on your cunt, over your chubby lips to hold them together, it feels strange and icky. The last thing Leon wants to see is blood. He sees enough of that daily. So he’s generous when it comes to prep, busts out the cherry-flavoured lube today, squirts a decent amount on his fingers, cock, and your tighter hole.

You squirm, he watches the unreadable expression on your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest. You’re nervous, but you’re wet, and that makes his chest swell in pride. Lucky Girl finally gets it. One finger slips past the ring of tight muscle, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, there’s one last line he’s missing. It’ll come to him. Two fingers in, he scissors you open, spits on it just ‘cause it turns him on to see it run down your crack.

That’s enough, Leon thinks when he fits the third. He wants to make it hurt a little. Wants to feel like a big, strong man. He sits back on his knees, flips you over onto your front, he likes you this way. Just takes you in, how your tits hang low, brushing against the mattress when Leon presses a hand down on your back to keep you from arching. He takes his dick in hand and in he goes, easier than he thought. He wonders if you can cum just like this, with his dick pounding your ass.

He fucks like an animal, you gasp and yelp below him, unable to handle it as his hips smack against yours. The duct tape is starting to peel ‘cause your pussy is fucking soaked. That alone makes his balls tighten as he turns you back over to do damage control, and ‘cause he wants to see your face while he fucks. You look like you’re lovin’ it. Alright. So you’re an anal slut. Got it. He pushes back into your ass, groans when you clench around him, the duct tape peeling at the corners, he can’t handle it. Et in hora mortis nostrae. Leon’s mind blanks when he cums, fills your ass and his limp cock slips out. Shit. A-fucking-men. That’s right, he remembers. That’s how you end a prayer.

You don’t cum. He tears the duct tape off clean. You let out a loud ‘Ow, Leon!’ and frown at him. Beads of arousal stick to the piece of tape, your pussy is pulsing, walls fluttering around nothing. Leon kisses your swollen clit, rubs it steadily till you cream on his tongue, sweeter than molasses his Lucky Girl is.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” You tell him shyly, gaze at him with this dumb fucking smile on your dollface that makes his heart squeeze. God, he’s gotta keep you around, his lucky charm.

[vienssunshine]

Beg me please to let you in me

pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, sub!Yuuta word count: 1.6k author's note: last work from the poll! the title from the song "vegas" by joseline hernandez. description: after a long mission, all Yuuta wants is you.

Yuuta is assigned harder and longer missions due to his position as the second strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Though he lives to protect others from curses, he hates to be sent away, especially for extended periods of time, because it keeps him away from you. And god does he miss you and your touch.

After a three-week mission–or a three week deprivation–it doesn’t take long for Yuuta to find your room. You let him in when he knocks on your door all pent-up and needy, but decide to not give him what he wants, at least not before teasing him a bit.

Propped up on some pillows against the headboard of your bed, you grin down at the sorcerer nestled between your thighs. Yuuta is sloppily licking his tongue over your glistening cunt, whining as he tries to cope with the aching erection straining through his pants. His desire is so powerful it’s painful, but you won’t let him touch himself, only permitting him to eat you out, knowing it turns him on even more. 

“Please,” Yuuta whimpers, looking up from your folds. The lower half of his face is shining from your wetness as he stares up at you, sad eyes glazed over with lust. “Please let me inside you.” 

You lift your chin up, enjoying the pleading expression spread across his flushed face. God, he needs you. All the more reason to make him wait. “I don’t think you’re asking nicely enough.”

Your response pulls a frustrated whine from Yuuta’s throat, but you have none of it, simply telling him to show you how much he wants it while pushing his face back down to your wet cunt. 

He moans as he opens his mouth to lick and suck at your hot flesh. It’s difficult for him to reconcile how having his mouth against your cunt, feeling you quake and jolt, feels so good and how, at the same time, it’s making his rock-hard erection ache more and more every second it remains neglected. 

Your fingers knot into his black hair as he worships your wet folds with his tongue and mouth, and the sensation pulls a pretty whine from his throat. 

“Mmph-s’good...need you-”

His hands tighten around your thighs and he presses his eyes shut, enduring the hot lust rolling through his poor body. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, and you’re so pretty, and the noises you make when he licks you—he can’t take it anymore. 

Yuuta begins to buck his hips against the mattress, just desperate to relieve some of the ache.

It takes you a second to notice—Yuuta is very good with his tongue, especially when pushed to his breaking point—but when you do, you move back and place your foot against his shoulder, pushing him away from you.

“M’sorry,” he says, breathing heavily, “You’re just so…it’s been so long…” His head drops down. He can’t even function anymore; the lust overtaking him has rendered his body and mind useless. All he can do is beg for you to make him feel better.

It may be time to show him some mercy. 

You tilt your head as you knead your foot into the strong muscle of his shoulder. “Sounds like you want me to take care of you.”

He looks back up at you, desperation radiating off of his shaking body. “Please fuck me,” Yuuta whispers. He presses a kiss to the ankle near his face. “Please.”

You suppose he’s earned it. Aside from that little slip-up—pleasuring himself without permission—he’s been so good. And he worked so hard on his mission. It’s funny how you pretend the fact that your hole is crying out to be filled by him isn’t a factor in your decision. 

Dropping your foot from his shoulder, you lean forward to cup Yuuta's face. Of course he melts into your touch, pressing his warm cheek into the palm of your hand—so needy for the slightest show of affection. He’s begun to rut into the mattress once more, pressing the bulge in his underwear to the firm but soft surface, desperate for friction that can offer any small bit of relief from his overwhelming desire. You’ll let him get away with it this time. 

You use your hand on his face to guide him forward as you lean back, bringing him on top of you until you feel the erection straining through his briefs press against your wet cunt. His gasp from the contact is silenced when you pull him into a messy kiss.

Your grip on his jaw keeps his face to yours as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He moans, and your other hand travels down to his clothed length, beginning to gently stroke it. His underwear is wet with precum. 

“Please, I can’t-I can’t take it anymore-”

“You’re doing great, Yuuta,” you purr, “I’m gonna make you feel better, okay?”

He exhales, pained. “Okay,” he chokes out. 

“Now take these off,” you say, tugging at his waistband. 

He sits back and they’re clumsily pulled off before you can blink. You’re greeted with his fully erect dick with a reddened tip that’s leaking precum. His arousal looks painful, no wonder he was so quick to beg you for help. 

You look up to Yuuta to see a deep blush burning on his cheeks. He brings his hands up to cover his face. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yuuta,” you say, tugging at his forearms,  “C’mon, let me see your pretty face.” 

Though it takes him a second, he listens, dropping his hands down into his lap. “So much better,” you say, running your fingers through his black hair, his eyes fluttering at the sensation. Then you ease him back on top of you and wrap your hand around his length—it’s throbbing underneath your touch—and align it with your wet hole. He squirms, having to fight against the strong urge his body has to enter you immediately.

“Can…can I…?” Yuuta asks. It’s impressive he can form a question, he’s barely able to think straight.

“You can put it inside,” you respond, smiling up at the nervous boy. 

He takes a deep breath before bringing his hips forward and finally, finally pushing himself inside of you. Your entrance offers little resistance, wetness slicking your insides so Yuuta’s full length slips into you with only one thrust. His breath hitches and the arms holding him up above you shake, almost giving out at the blissful sensation. 

“Feeling better?” you ask, eyes roaming over his expression. His face is contorted in pleasure, eyebrows pressed together and jaw clenched after only one stroke. 

“Feels…so good.” He speaks carefully, as if even just describing the sensation could make him cum. He doesn't move after he realizes how close he already is, trying to regain control over himself. Only, you want to keep feeling him. 

“You can move, y’know,” you tease. 

“I know…just need a second,” he says. 

He exhales sharply as he brings his hips back, dragging his length through your gummy walls and then pushing into them once more. His fingers tighten around the sheets by your head, his hands planted on either side of you, his face hovering above yours. 

Typically, you like to ride him, to pin him down with your hips and have him writhe in pleasure underneath you as you bounce up and down on him. But you might like this even more, watching how he winces and whimpers when he’s the one moving himself inside of you, the tight hug of your walls just too much.

It might have been better if you were the one in charge of the pace as, though he's moving now, he's slow and hesitant, taking frequent pauses. Even after you’ve teased him so much despite him already being so pent-up from his mission, he wants to do the impossible and last longer for you.

“It’s okay, Yuuta,” you say, brushing some hair out of his face, “I know you want to cum.”

“But-” he protests until he cuts himself off with a gasp when you grab his hips, encouraging him to thrust in and out of you more quickly. 

“You’ve been so good,” you tell him, “Makin’ me feel so good…I think you deserve a reward.”

He groans his response, the sound thickly coated with arousal. He has been so good, hasn’t he? He does deserve a reward. Yuuta buries his face into your neck, wrapping his arms around your body as he humps himself into you.

You gasp, he’s being rougher now, plunging his dick in and out of you with a force that contrasts the way he’s whining so sweetly in your ear, occasionally moaning about how much he loves you. Your hands travel up from your hips to rest on his back, pulling him closer into you, wanting to feel him more and deeper. 

“Fuck…love you…s’much.” His words are hard to understand, mostly cut off by moans, but you’re able to make out that he appreciates being back with you. 

His arms cradle your head, fingers tangled in your hair, as he continues to rut into you, chasing the orgasm he’s been so desperately craving all those lonely nights away from you. 

“M’gonna cum, gonna cum deep inside you,” he says, hips losing their rhythm, his neediness fully consuming him as he fucks himself into you.

“Uh huh, cum inside me like a good boy,” you coo into his ear. 

He moans, and you feel his cock twitch inside you, shooting out white ropes of cum. Yuuta whines, continuing to thrust himself into you with a few last uneven strokes. Then, utterly exhausted after his mission and your ruthless teasing, he collapses on top of you, hot pants fanning against your neck.

“Did so good,” you say, stroking his black hair. You know the sensation of cumming can be a lot for him, so you soothe him as best you can as he comes down from such a powerful orgasm.

He melts into you, the full weight of his shaking body on top of yours.

“I’m never going on a mission longer than a week again,” he murmurs into your neck, “Miss you too much.”

[zurizex]

could u pls do a clay smut??

Basically the reader was being a brat and clay teaches them a lesson :3

I’d be so happy if you wrote it ! ^^

❝ 𝓨OU'RE SO NEEDY! ❞

▐ clay behaving his bratty gf — nsfw

warnings. degradation, dom!clay, edging, mentions of overstimulation, size kink??, hair pulling, no use of y/n, cock warming

request. yes

✧˖*°🌱 　｡ﾟ･　☆ 🌴࿐

𝓒lay was a busy troll, always doing something no matter if he's in it or not. Though the man was always busy, he never have not made time for his girlfriend. Until today.

Clay didn't even have time to say good morning to his girlfriend before he left to finish his duties. And you were not having it. You understood why Clay was always busy. But not saying any sort of greeting to you in the morning was cruel.

You sat in bed, squirming as you awaited for your boyfriend to arrive back late. It was 10pm and he still wasn't around. He was probably making changes and notes with that Viva girl again, like always. Your blood boiled as you imagine Clay hanging around that life sucking troll. When Clay would arrive home, you were gonna pounce on him for you to have your way finally.

When you heard the door open, you didn't move a muscle. You would usually get up and hug your boyfriend for a while, but today was different. Clay called out for you. But you never responded. Clay opened the door to your shared bedroom to find you with your arms crossed on the bed. He could only raise an eyebrow at your attitude.

"What's up with you, honey?" He would ask. Only earning a scoff from you. Clay furrowed his eyebrows at this discovered attitude you had displayed to him.

"What's up is that you forgot to say 'Good morning.' " You sassily quipped back. Clay blinked a few times, rendering what you had said to him. He would lightly chuckle at your childish antics.

"Baby, I was in a hurry. Wasn't on purpose.." Clay smirked, crossing his arms. He found your grumpiness quite amusing as you didn't act like this often. You grumbled in response, not wanting to talk to him for any longer. Clay placed his clipboard on the desk before sitting in his office chair. He's spun it to face you still refusing to look at him.

"Come here.." Clay would motion his fingers, only earning a rolling eyes expression from you. His seductive face ran cold. He squinted his eyes at how frustrating you were being at the fact he was preparing to give you attention now.

"Baby...Don't be like that, hm?" He tried once more. You faced your head away from him and towards the wall. He couldn't handle it anymore. Clay scoffed, rising from his chair and walking towards you.

"Yeah, we're not doing this." He spat. Clay would pick you up from under your armpits to sling you over his shoulder. You yelped before lightly hitting his back, yelling to be put back down. He would sit back in his office chair, placing you in his lap. You could hear his pants unzip as he kept a firm grip on your side. You gulped as you felt his hard cock bump against your crotch, you hitched your breath.

Panties were being slipped off since that was all you were wearing underneath. A slick line from your pussy to your panties glistened in the dim lamp light. Clay lifted you up before slamming you right back down on his dick. A surprised gasp mixed moan escaped her lips as you felt all of him suddenly fill your hole. You hung your head low, ashamed at the sound that left your mouth.

"Since you wanted to be sooo rude. You're sitting here until I finish paperwork." He gripped the back of your hair to pull your ear next to his lips, groaning lowly. The need to move was desperate, you starting to grind your hips back and forth. Though Clay loved the feeling he would grip his hands on your hips to hold you in place. You whimpered lowly, desperately begging to be fucked as your pretty pussy sucked his cock in.

Clay grabbed his glasses case to open them. He would place the black colored glasses on his face as he started to pull out mountains of paper work to fill out. Your eyes widened as you started to wonder how you were gonna make it through this.

"Please, Clay..I'm sor—"

"Shh, i'm trying to finish work, hmm?" Clay shushed you. His right hand slithered down to softly graze your clit. The feeling hit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Clay chuckled at this reaction as he barely had done anything major yet.

"God...The slut doesn't know how to act correctly." He spat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, looking over your shoulder at his papers. His fingers gently circled your pink bud, whimpers leaving your lips constantly.

—

This was torture. It had only been 10 minutes and you have been close to cumming 2 times. The only thing stopping you was how Clay could easily read your body language before you were, forcing you to not fucking cum, he dared you.

After all the begging and pleading you did, Clay was also torturing himself as he wanted to move desperately. You could tell by the soft groans that he refused to let release from his mouth. The sticky sweat starting to stick you closer together, soft moans from you filling his ears, the feeling. He couldn't take it anymore. You know what, fuck it.

He yanked the glasses off his face and slammed them on the table. He grabbed your hips to lift you off of his dick. The empty feeling made you whimper before he grabbed a fist full of your hair and harshly pushed your face onto the desk. You couldn't choke a word out before he'd slam his dick back into your desperate hole, not giving you time to adjust before he repeatedly slammed himself into you rapidly.

He never let go of your hair, giving it soft yanks as he kept ramming into your needy pussy. Choked moans left your lips as you couldn't take the roughness of his thrusts.

"P-Please Cl-aayyy. Slow doowwnnn!" You sobbed desperately. Earning no sort of remorse whatsoever. He pulled your hair for your head to be close to his ear again, hearing his breathy groans clearer.

"Aww— fuucckk~ Can you not take it..Is it too big for you, slut?" Clay teased breathlessly. His words made you only whine as all the pain and pleasure mixed. You started to feel your pleasure edge closed to your breaking point. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, your tongue sticking out mindlessly.

"G-gonna..C-cumm..." You somehow managed to let escape your voice, it being very breathy and chopped. Clay only pulled your hair harder, his grip tightened.

"Poor baby...You must be soo full..Come on, go a-aheeaadd.." Clay huskily whispered in your ear. The words caused you to snap, releasing your juices all over his veiny dick. An almost scream came out your mouth as you gripped the back of Clay's neck in pleasure. But he didn't stop in the slightest, he only went faster.

You tried to pry yourself off of Clay, only making him let go of your hair and grip your hips to stay in place. Filthy sounds filled the room as the sweet smell of sex filled both of their noses.

"N-Nooo, you gotta wait till I finishh. That's no fair, h-mmm.." Clay mocked in your ear. You only squirmed in his grip, feeling his cock starting to twitch. His pace grew faster as his groans grew louder.

"I-I'm gonna cum..You can take it, can't y-youuu.." Clay whined. He placed your head back on the desk, leaning above you. Clay almost crushed you as he kept thrusting into you like some sort of animal. You didn't receive another warning before he moaned loudly, his thrust growing sloppy.

Soon enough his sticky seed began to spill inside you. You both moaned and whimpered lewdly as Clay gripped your sides. It took you a minute for both of you to catch your breath, Clay's hips still against yours. He would only chuckle as he sat down in the office chair again, not letting you be lifted from his dick. You squirmed as you felt his warm seed not leaving you whatsoever, his dick plunged in your hole.

"I still have to finish my work, honey..."

an. AHHH ILY CLAY ILYILYILY

[mountainsandmayhem]

Happy Easter, Joel Miller

18+

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel’s secret sweet tooth inspires a little Easter surprise.

CW: 18+, MDNI. Food play. Praise. Oral (f! Receiving), Established relationship.

AN: this is absolutely not edited or proof read. Just enjoy it, ok! Haha.

Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but Joel Miller LOVES chocolate. He has secret stashes of chocolate hidden around the house and in his work truck.

Easter brings his favourite chocolates - mini eggs. The candy coating crunches and then you get to that delicious milk chocolate middle.

“God damn, I love you.” He says to a handful of mini eggs the Saturday night of Easter weekend. And that’s enough to spark a surprise for tomorrow.

Sunday afternoon, Joel heads off to do his usual routine. He likes to wash his work truck and stop at the store for waters and Gatorade for his crew cooler. In the 40-ish minutes he’s gone you race to melt some chocolate and then make a trail of small foil wrapped eggs to the kitchen.

You strip down to just a pastel coloured thong and climb up onto the table. You place more eggs around you and then when you hear his truck pulling onto the driveway, you drizzle warm melted chocolate along your body.

A line up one thigh, a curved line from one hip to your ribs in the other side. Drips along the swell of your breasts. As he opens the door you lay back on the table and wait.

“I’m back, babe.” He calls as he toes off his boots. “Oh, chocolates!”

He sounds like a little kid and you giggle quietly at how fucking cute this broad and grumpy man can be sometimes.

“What’s going on here babe?”

You laugh and yell, “follow the trail. There’s a delicious surprise at the end.”

You hear him padding along the hardwood floor. Your body breaks out in goosebumps as you wait excitedly, chocolate covered nipples turning into stiff peaks. As he comes around the corner he sees you. His eyes go wide, mouth dropping before a devious grin crosses his face.

“Oh fuck. You look….fuck…” rendering him speechless is your favourite thing to do. You bite your bottom lip while smiling up at him from the table.

“Hungry?” You say mischievously.

Joel’s gaze goes from awe to pure lust as he stalks over to the table, planting his strong hands beside you and leaning his face close to the chocolate across your stomach.

He practically growls, “Fucking starving, babygirl,” before laying a long, warm lick across your stomach. He laps up all the chocolate, twirling his tongue and kissing until it’s clean. You’re writhing under him as he moves to the chocolate along your arm.

“Mmm, so sweet and soft.” He hums before moving to the melted deliciousness that’s coating your hard nipples.

“I think you’re enjoying yourself,” he says through kisses down your heaving chest.

“Please, Joel,” you moan, your hand going to rub your clit over your thong.

Joel grabs your wrist to stop you. “Not yet, baby. Gotta get you all clean first,” he sucks one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue to clean it. Your back arches, a sign that you want more. “You’re so amazing.”

Once it’s clean he rolls your wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger and moves his soft lips to your other nipple. He suckles on that one gently while pinching and pulling the other.

“Oh god, that feels so good, Joel.” That familiar fire starts in your belly and you start to wonder if you could cum from just him teasing your nipples.

He bites down gently, pinching the other with equal pressure and you cry out in the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. After letting go he peppers your breasts with feather light kisses.

“I need you, Joel. Please,” you whine, canting your hips towards the air.

He walks to the head of the table and sits in his chair. His voice comes out like dark molasses as he says, “Slide down to me, baby.”

You prop yourself onto your elbows and shimmy down the table to him. He sits back, eyes watching the wet spot that’s soaked through your light thong.

“She’s needy,” he says deeply.

You slid until your ass is right at the edge of the table, him between your legs. He has chocolate on his beard and corners of his lips and you fight the urge to lick it off.

“I’m going to clean off this thigh. And then slide that sexy little underwear to the slide and give your beautiful puffy pussy what she needs.”

You nod and chant ‘yes please’ like it’s a church prayer. He uses his teeth and tongue to clean your thigh and the second it’s clean he pulls your panties to the side roughly, you make eye contact for a brief second, his eyes practically obsidian with lust before he dives in.

Immediately sucking your needy clit into his mouth, the rough tip of his tongue flicking it passionately.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry.

He releases your soft skin with a pop. “Already?” He smirky cockily, three fingers now teasing your entrance.

“Please Joel.” Your voice is a needy whine as your body jerks and twitches under his attention.

“Ok, my love. Stay still for me. Let me get my fingers in,” his voice is calm and commanding. You slow your breathing and let your knees fall open further as he works his thick fingertips in. “That’s it. Good girl. Make room for me.”

“Oh shit. More. Please. More.” You close your eyes and get lost in him and the euphoric state he’s putting you in.

“There she goes,” he says as his fingers push all the way in. He curls them forward and you feel it immediately, your orgasm right on the edge. He sucks your sensitive bud back into his mouth and you’re done for. Pleasure ripples through you as he pumps his fingers and flicks at your clit.

Between licks he mumbles praise into the velvety skin of your pussy. “Good girl. So beautiful. That’s it.”

As you come down from your high he slides his fingers out of you and then stands up, lifting you into his arms and walking to the bedroom as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Happy Easter, Joel Miller,” you whisper into his neck.

==========================

Taglist:

@rainstorms-library @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @jessthebaker @pedroswife69 @javierpena-inatacvest @pedroshotwifey @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @syd-djarin @untamedheart81

[heavenlyvision]

Hcs about reader giving the lin kuei brothers head for the first since?🌝

GIVING LIN KUEI TRIO HEAD 🌚 pairing: Bi-Han/reader | Kuai Liang/reader | Tomas Vrbada/reader wc: 1.4k warnings: 18+ only, smut, blowjobs, cum swallowing, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used !! <3 a/n; it took me a long time to get to this request, I'M SO SORRY >_> i have many and it's a little overwhelming but i hope you enjoy anon !!! <333 MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

BI-HAN ---------------

⟢ giving Bi-Han head for the first time would involve a lot of him taking lead and also being careful as to not push you too far ⟢ he feels vulnerable when like that, to be solely receiving pleasure would give him pause ⟢ not to say he wouldn’t enjoy it; he’d enjoy getting his dick sucked immensely ⟢ having your mouth wrapped around him, would make him insane, his cock would be twitching and leaking profusely for you, the sounds he’d make grunted and supressed, not wanting to show just how much you affect him ⟢ he wouldn’t push on your head, not the first time anyways, he’d have his hand resting against the back of your head or neck though, letting you know who’s in charge here, he has control, no matter how much you’re unravelling him right now ⟢ it’s not completely true, you’d lick at the tip of his cock a certain way and he could swear he’s seen some kind of deity, his mind falling apart the more you slurp and suck at him ⟢ the more you pull him apart, the more his words would escape him, he’d mumble all kinds of praises and encouragements to you, never wanting you to stop ⟢ you’d take him all the way to the back of your throat and hold him there, he’d nearly go cross eyed, fighting with himself to look down at you, needing to see the pathetic look on your face when his cock is so deep inside your mouth, he’d want to see the sloppy state you’re in, he’d have to see it ⟢ he’d still want to be gentle with you but his hips would be fighting the urge to thrust, twitching, wanting to fuck your face until you’re crying, wanting to see your cheeks stained in tears ⟢ having your mouth on him, it’s like a slice of heaven he doesn’t think he’s quite worthy of ⟢ to have you on your knees for him and taking his dick without any complaints, being so willing to please, it would fill him with a deep sense of satisfaction and happiness ⟢ knowing you trust him so deeply, enough so to let him have you this powerless for him, it enhances his pleasure by tenfold ⟢ the best part of you giving him head, for him anyways, is the intimacy, he wouldn’t be soft and caring but it’s an incredibly intimate act for him, to let you be the one rendering him this useless, is a vulnerable state and to him, that’s as intimate as he can really get ⟢ he’d also love how much of a fucking mess you’d be after he’s cum in your mouth, loving the way you swallow his load, how you’ve drooled all over your chin and how your eyes are all glassy and wet from just how deeply you got his dick in your mouth

KUAI LIANG ---------------

⟢ offering Kuai Liang head would make his head spin, he’d want to make sure you’re okay with it, that you’re completely willing, and once he’s sure of that, he’s more than ready to have you on your knees for him ⟢ your mouth on him would make him melt, he wouldn’t be able to help the way he almost immediately wants to thrust into your mouth ⟢ he’s verbal with how well you’re doing, his hand would stroke your head and cheek, cooing at you, telling you how amazing you look with his dick in your mouth ⟢ he’d let you have this, letting you choose your pace, he’d want you to pull him apart how you want to ⟢ it’s a shared act, he’d love how worked up it would get you, part of what he would love is how much it affects you ⟢ he’s a tease and he’s no different when receiving head, even if he’s a mess from your ministrations, he’d still huff out comments on how cute it is that you’re getting worked up from this ⟢ he’d hold off for as long as he could but at some point his hand is on the back of your head and he’d guiding you up and down the length of his cock, making sure you’re okay with it, needing communication even when you can’t reply verbally ⟢ he’s gentle about it but he also can’t help but be a little bit greedy, he’s worked up, dick ridiculously hard, he’s guiding you just a bit, to make sure you know just how he likes it ⟢ when he’s sure you understand, he’d loosen up a bit, letting you choose how you want to proceed, a moan ripped from him when you choose to slurp him all the way down and choke on him a bit, hand fondling his balls lightly ⟢ his whole body would short circuit and twitch for you, his mind leaving him, too lost in the feel of your mouth ⟢ his control would slip almost completely, you’d have rendered him speechless, his only ability being to moan and rolls his hips lightly, his pelvis grinding into your nose ⟢ his orgasm would be sudden to both of you, his cum spilling down your throat completely, his brows would be creased tight as you keep your mouth on him and just take his whole load ⟢ he’d love the scene of watching you slide your mouth off his cock, licking and cleaning him as you go, the view obscene and the noises worse, his gaze would be intense, carefully watching your mouth, your tongue, he’d never forget just how well you did for him ⟢ his heart would be pounding in his ears and he’d damn near go blind from how you lick up the mess he’s made of himself, the image is imprinted in his memories for life

TOMAS ---------------

⟢ Tomas would be hesitant; he enjoys giving more than receiving but he’s also willing to let you do whatever you want with him ⟢ he’d be complimenting you the whole time, his touch gentle and his comments encouraging, kind, complimentary ⟢ he’s careful not to disrupt you, wanting you to do what you want to do, he doesn’t want to ruin the pace you’ve set ⟢ his words would garble together, word slurring the longer you’d tease him, his thighs shaking and his abs tensing, hands clenching into fits at his sides, not wanting to grab at you, well he would want to grab at you, so badly, but he wants you to enjoy this too ⟢ he doesn’t mind giving you this control, he adores that you’re letting him stick his dick in your mouth, he’s elated about it even ⟢ his mind reeling with how he got so lucky, at some point he would even probably be thinking of what he can do after to return the favour, his pleasure heightened by thoughts of all the pleasure he could give you himself ⟢ knowing that you wanted to do this for him would drive him wild in a different way as well, knowing that you like his pleasure just as much as he enjoys yours would make his cock ache ⟢ he’d be messy, just a complete and utter mess everywhere, your mouth making it worse but he’d also be leaking so much precum that it’d make both your heads spin, his inner thighs sticky from it and your saliva ⟢ his head would lull on his shoulder, he’d be completely pliable, just letting you suck the soul out of him ⟢ the more far gone he’d get, the more his hips would jerk and the harder it would be for him to fight it off, his limbs feeling borderline boneless ⟢ he’d be so vocal for you, verbally and just audibly in general, the way you’d moan on him when he’d groan and whimper from the pleasure would have him loosening his lips a little more, still trying to please you, even when dumb from desire ⟢ he’d love staring at you the whole time, eye contact is huge for him and making sure you know he’s watching you is important to him, the only time he ever directs you, being to make sure you look at him ⟢ his balls would pull so tight and he’d be nearly disappointed he couldn’t last longer, never wanting this to end but also wanting to see how you look with his cum in your mouth ⟢ he’d almost be sad to see you swallow it all, obsessed with how it dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your neck ⟢ he’d think, next time, he’s asking you to hold it in your mouth, just a little longer

[ollypopwrites]

Our Sweet Remedy

Gale x Fem!Tav [AFAB, she/her]

Rating: Explicit [18+ MDNI]

Word count: 2.8k

Request: 69 or DP with Gale by anon!

Warnings: Smut (oral [f and m receiving, face fucking, cum swallowing], Gale’s projection double participates [PiV], double penetration, fingering), dirty talk, Dom!Gale (and he is condescending lmao, but no degradation), after care, safe and consensual check ins. Changing POV (Tav then Gale).

Notes: there is so little plot here I don’t know what to say. No beta reader, only Ao can judge me. Also idk if it’s mirror image Gale uses for his projection? Sorry if that that is not lore accurate.

My Ao3

Tav felt she may have to sit down and chat with Gale about his inability to just lay back and receive every once in a while.

It was post-exam season, and her overachieving fiance, had just spent many days cooped up in the study grading and reading final assignments. But it was finally over and they were celebrating the completion of his first full term as a professor at Blackstaff. A night out so neither of them had to cook and a bottle of wine to end the evening.

With Gale wrapped up in his work, it had been up to Tav to arrange everything. Her plans for the night had so far gone exactly as they ought to, they made it to their reservation for dinner, the walk to and from the tower had been exactly on time and when they got through the door he was amenable to being ordered upstairs.

This was where the plan went awry. She had meant to get on her knees, and give him some well-deserved admiration. Gale, however, after what felt like weeks of being drowned in work and only seeing glimpses of his betrothed was feeling clingy and needy.

Instead of having his cock in her mouth from her knees, she was draped alongside him on the bed. His hands roamed over her sides, taking in each curve, grabbing onto flesh when she did something he particularly liked. The groans and murmured praises spurred her on, happy to be able to please him and offer him some reprieve.

His fingers trailed her thighs, nudging them apart. She allowed it, for the moment, a pleased yet shocked squeal leaving her when he ran through the seam of her, dipping his fingers inside of her when he found her wet.

She pulled off him to lift her head, and remind him she was doing something for him for once when she caught him bringing his fingers into his mouth. Rendered momentarily speechless, body pulsing with a renewed need, Tav licked her lips.

“Humor me?” He asked.

“This — hey!” She felt him grabbing her thighs, attempting to pull her onto his body. “Gale, tonight is supposed to be about you.”

“Believe me, my love,” he said, not giving up his intent so Tav had to acquiesce, “this is for me.”

Another pulse of excitement coursed through her. Not meaning to be outdone, Tav at least acknowledged that this gave her better access to his cock. Her body now settled over his, with her thighs bracketing his sides as he leaned against the headboard with her presented for him as he grabbed at her ass. She worked him into her mouth with renewed vigor, not letting up even when he began his usual maddening work on her with his tongue.

For a while she was too lost to the sensation of him groaning above her to truly acknowledge how worked up she was getting. When she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could, he sucked hard on her clit with a moan and she felt her entire body go rigid.

There was something incredibly enticing about feeling so much pleasure while he was buried in her throat. She pulled up for air and not one to be outdone, Gale went in more fervently.

She was quickly rising to her climax, and she was losing focus. Pumping him in her hand with his head in her mouth, she kept being distracted by the sensations.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined.

No response, just more incessant working of her that made her want to give up entirely on the task at hand and languish in his talents.

Her own hands wrapped around his hips, to grab at his ass and pull him further into her mouth so he would get the message. He hesitated, gently thrust and when she moaned he allowed himself shallow jerky movements. A half-formed groan escaped him and his grip grew tighter on her thighs.

Tav’s mind went blissfully blank, truly degenerate moans came out around the slight muffle of him thrusting in and out of her mouth and then something snapped.

It was hard to tell if Gale gave the hard thrust into her throat or if she pushed herself down onto him, but it hardly mattered. Mouth full of him, her toes curled, her legs shook and her hips had to be held firmly to keep from jolting and moving from the sensation of his mouth.

After it passed she took him out of her mouth to laugh, a bit delirious at what had just happened.

“Alright, my love?”

He sounded strained, and she could see why. His cock was rigid, pulsing slightly and she knew he was close. She hummed an affirmative and without distraction went back to work on rewarding her wizard for a successful first term not thinking much more of the turn of events.

Gale couldn’t forget it.

Perhaps it was that he had not considered how much time he was buried in work and now being able to reemerge he found himself constantly thinking about Tav’s reaction the other night. They went from enjoying each other's company as often as possible to intermittently due to his new work schedule to not at all during the exam season.

But regardless of it being a matter of being pent up or not. He was catching himself thinking about her reaction in the middle of benign conversations, eyes drifting to her mouth and wondering just what her expression had been when she came with his cock in her throat.

Blindly feeling it had been near enough to throw him over the edge. He had to see it.

They had discussed trying things with his ability to conjure a mostly tangible mirror image before. The idea had come to him after the topic of Halsin wanting to be an add on to their partnership while on the road had come up. It had been born of insecurity, a need to be more in order to keep her by his side , but after his concerns were put to rest the idea remained.

It remained on a loop, actually. The idea of filling her so completely that all she could feel was him.

When she climbed in his lap in the study a couple days later, as eager to make up for their time apart as he was, he decided he had to see if he could bring the fantasy to life.

Tav gasped when she felt the somewhat cool touch of the mirror image’s hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and the projection smiled at her. Naked and ready already, but not making any other move to touch Tav.

“Hello there,” she said and then turned back to Gale. “We finally giving this a go?”

“Only if you want to,” he said, cupping her face. “Say the word and he will be gone.”

Tav kissed him, and then bit her lip with a cheeky smile. “How do you two want me?”

Gale felt a blazing trail of excitement crawl up his spine, blood rushing. “Naked. On your hand and knees.” He added a gentlemanly, “please,” for good measure.

“Yes, saer,” she teased and crawled out of his lap to strip herself of her clothes and do as she was asked.

For a while he just watched as she took in the sensations of the spectral presence lavishing her in attention. There was a thrill in being able to see his hands grab at the flesh of her ass, to see himself squeeze her thighs and generally admire her body from his seat on the settee. A unique pleasure in watching but still knowing it was all him that made her whine impatiently, and when he allowed the projection to finally touch her she eased into it.

“How does it feel, my love?”

The projection slid fingers through her folds, not quite giving her clit the attention it needed.

“Ever the scholar,” she mused and then moaned as a spectral finger circled her entrance. “Feels good, a bit like the mage hand, honestly.”

Gale hummed.

“Off,” she half demanded tugging down at the hem of his shirt.

“Always so impatient,” he chuckled, removing his shirt anyway.

“And you’re always a tease,” she shot back. One of her hands came up to tug at his waistband this time. “These next.”

“Demanding, as well,” he replied, yet he moved to acquiesce. He sat down in front of her, still on the settee while his mirror image continued to rub and tease, purposely not touching where she truly wanted him to. His hand came to her cheek, “I’d very much like to preoccupy your mouth with something besides bossing me around. How do you tell me to stop?”

“Two taps,” she demonstrated on his thigh for good measure.

There was a challenge in her eyes, one that spurred him on. The urge to take very deep despite his constant reign on himself. Perhaps a hold over from his time dealing with the orb, but if there was one thing Tav was good at it was tempting him.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked on it before opening her mouth to make a show of running her tongue along the pad of his finger.

“The other night,” he said, eyebrows furrowing in sharp focus at the point where his finger met her tongue, “you took me so deeply when you came. Did you like it?”

She hummed an affirmative, her mouth coming off his hand to say, “I loved it.” Her hand reached for the base of his cock, bringing it towards her mouth.

He moved his hand into her hair, gripping tight enough to keep her head from moving any further. Behind her his double stopped immediately. A frozen moment of disbelief crossed over her face.

“Ask me.”

She breathed a half laugh, but the way she licked her lips betrayed her interest in his demand.

“May I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Ask me, nicely.”

A shudder overtook her. “Please, Gale, can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“You may,” he replied with a smile, hand coming out of her hair to allow her to move.

The first lick was teasing, but with every attention she paid to him the projection behind her rewarded her anew. Gale took the time to sit back and enjoy, her clever mouth working him at her own leisure and each soft noise of pleasure while she did made his jaw clench.

When the presence behind her slipped two fingers inside of her, he felt her stiffen and her mouth froze on him. She tried to get back to her task but each stroke of the fingers inside of her seemed to draw her away until she was just sitting there moaning with his cock in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Gale muttered. “Hold me in your mouth, my love, can you do that?”

A gentle nod was her reply and the projection behind her went to work. Gale’s breathing picked up, self-control hanging on by a fraying thread as he simply watched. Pre-cum dribbled out of him and the resulting squeal she gave before running her tongue over the tip of him had him questioning why he was waiting.

Tav’s first orgasm approached, and he watched with fond understanding of exactly how it would go. The rush of sudden impatience as her hips thrust back onto the fingers inside of her, the little noises she would make and the crinkled brow of focus as she let herself hone in on the rising sensation. Beautiful as usual.

“Gale,” she breathed, “I’m going to —“

“Ask.”

Her eyes shot open, meeting his, a new sort of awe struck intrigue perhaps at the commanding tone. “Please,” she said, tongue laving over the tip of him, “please let me come.”

“Open for me,” he said, hand coming back into her hair. When she did as he asked he gently guided her back onto him, “hold me here. Keep me right here while you fall apart.”

The projection was unrelenting, and Gale could hardly keep his hips steady with each little whine that came from Tav’s lips. Enraptured by the view, he was lost when her jaw went a bit slack, tongue pressed against the head of his cock in a last attempt to pleasure him as she tipped over the edge.

The final thread of self-control frayed; the projection of himself quickly readjusted so that the same time Gale thrust into her mouth its cock was also sinking into her heat.

Tav squealed in surprise around both intrusions, and Gale grit his teeth to stave off further thrusting in order to give her the chance to tap out. His lovely Tav simply looked up at him, corners of her lips turned up in a challenging smile even with her mouth full.

The desire to make her as mindless as he felt overtook and in unison both cocks began to thrust. Praise was all he could find himself to speak.

“Yes, my love, yes,” he whispered, “look at you, full of me.” He sucked in a sharp breath when she whined, the sensation causing a sweet vibration. “So beautiful, so good,” he breathed, “with such an eager mouth — and a dripping cunt for me.”

Her eyes blinked, slightly watery with a sharper thrust that he felt gag her slightly. But yet unwaveringly full of awe, full of admiration and devotion. Proof she was loving every second of this as much as him.

The projection pressed over her back, arm coming around to touch her clit in reward. A slightly manic sound left her, desperate and shocked. He knew she was probably still sensitive, he barely gave her time to recover from the last orgasm before he began the double ended onslaught of sensation. Her walls had probably still been fluttering around the slightly spectral intrusion of his double’s cock.

He swallowed hard. He almost wanted to take himself out of her mouth to hear her describe the feeling, but it would be too great a loss he decided. The unending string of muffled moans were enough of an indication for him.

At a particularly harsh thrust from his double he was knocked from her mouth, her head lolling and eyes closing. She was losing her focus.

“Keep my cock in your mouth, Tav,” he commanded, the projection ceasing all movement. Hips and hands stilling mid movement.

“Trying,” she whimpered. “Feels too good —“

Gale tightened the grip in her hair, guiding her back to where he wanted her, his hips thrusting steadily with a groan. “I’ve got you,” he muttered, “stay there.”

The projection started its onslaught again, with renewed gasps and choked off whimpers from Tav starting anew. He was steadily approaching the precipice, but unwilling to venture over until he saw for himself what it looked like to have her truly debauched.

The visage of him behind her was unrelenting, and he could see her beginning to reach that peak. Her eyes gave away the desperation she felt, and when he finally gave her permission he watched first her body begin to slouch unable to keep herself up as her knees slid further apart and her hips twitch.

Tav’s eyes went blissfully blank before they rolled back slightly, his thrusts into her mouth a bit easier as her jaw went slack.

“That's it, Tav,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfection.”

Without being able to look away he felt the control finally slip away. His hips thrust up in harsh long strokes that made her gag as he felt himself seize up with the release. It was met with sucking as Tav eased him through it.

Behind her the projection had faded with his lack of concentration. He took a few moments to admire her, lips swollen, glistening with saliva and breathing heavy.

“Come here,” he pulled her up off of the floor, and settled her on his lap. He kissed her sweaty forehead, her cheek and then finally her lips. “Alright?”

She nodded her head.

“I need to hear you say it, Tav.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s stay like this, though, a little longer.”

His hands rubbed over her back, lips pressed to the crown of her head as they caught their breath. The glow of satiation still thrummed through his veins as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Gratitude bloomed in his chest at her ability to make him feel safe enough to explore his desire to take for once, for trusting him.

“You’re filthy, Gale,” she giggled after a while, still looking a bit dazed.

“You’re one to talk,” he challenged.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” she assured him, letting herself nestle her face into the crook of his neck. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Thank you for reading 💜

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”