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viixenvi · 17 hours

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𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 18+

Summary: You have been planning to steal some information from the Avengers compound. You successfully break in but what happens when the one person you never wanted to see again ends up catching you?

Characters: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Warnings: Torture, fighting, reader gets caught and tied up, heavy make-outs, slight flirting, some oral (Nat receiving), reader leaves Nat high and dry, villain fem!reader (Reader and Nat hate fuck whenever they catch each other guys)

This was not my best work, actually kinda bad and not proofread so forgive mistakes and like forgive me if it's bad I just had this idea weeks ago and decided to actually write it at 3 AM

Minors DNI

It was only a matter of time before you could escape. Sneaking into the Avengers compound was hard, it took weeks of planning and landing a job as a maid.

Stark was always hiring and it was just perfect when you got a call back that you had been selected for the job. Of course, this job came with risks to your plan. If you were suspected at all by any of the avengers you'd be finished. Which is exactly why you had a disguise.

Shape shifting was your specialty. It had just happened oneday, you woke up with powers of some sorts. You had no idea how to control them or how you even got them.

You were hoping this hard drive you were planning to take had the answers to some of your problems. You could only change your appearance, make others see you differently.

The only person you had to avoid at all costs was Natasha. She knew things about you that you hadn't told anyone else. You and her had a long history, one that you prefer not to think about. You had fought her previously, working with Loki. That went down hill fast and you managed to stay low since then.

Now you were definitely going to set off their radars. You have a plan though, you always have a plan.

"Can you get the lab too while you are at it?" Tony asks me as I mop the floor. I look up and nod, giving him a shy smile. He walks away, his phone in his hand.

Perfect excuse to be in his lab. You walk towards the lab, your heart racing. It was time, finally. You felt relieved, it was finally going to be over and you'd never have to see the avengers ever again.

"You are not authorized to enter this area." The voice startles you slightly. J.A.R.V.I.S was a pain to deal with.

"Mr. Stark asked me to mop the lab," You tell him. You hear nothing or a minute before the card scanner beeps with a green light and the doors click. That was surprisingly..easy?

This was too easy, you hesitate for a moment. You glance around the lab before your eyes land on a hard drive. It's the hard drive. No way Tony would just leave this out conveniently, not when he knew there was a chance it would be stolen by anyone.

But it's right there, and you don't think you have another chance. So you slowly walk up to the table, pretending to mop and swiping the drive off the table.

It swiftly makes the journey to your pocket and you walk out of the lab, leaving the mop on the floor. You have no idea how you can get out without at least being detected.

Stark was far from stupid, but your powers deceived him enough. Now all you had to do was fake an emergency and leave. You pick up the phone, pretending to get a call and panicking.

You find Steve in the living room, cleaning his shield off. "Can you please tell Mr. Stark I have to leave? There's a family emergency!" You spit out before he can really react. You are in the elevator as he says he will.

Something about the way he looked at you was confusing. He didn't even ask if everything was alright like you thought he would. If Steve was one thing, he was compassionate.

You knew they knew about your plans, or at least that you were there to steal the drive. As if on cue, the elevator doors open and Natasha is staring right at your face.

"Hello милый," her voice is sweet, just like how it used to be. You stand there for a moment, drinking in her features. You had spent the past weeks avoiding her and you never got the chance to really see her.

"Natasha, any chance you can let me go?" You say, one hand on the back of your neck as you laugh awkwardly. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. So it's a no.

Her fist raises to your face and you block it, swiping your leg under hers. She falls back and manages to flip onto her feet. You land a punch to her face, which angers her.

She kicks your stomach, causing you to stumble back. Before you can even think, she punches your face. You can feel the blood gushing out of your nose. You wipe it away with your hand while Natasha stands in front of you. She's focused on your face and movements.

You could tell she was analyzing you. You both hadn't fought each other in a while and it was obvious you were holding back. You couldn't get yourself to hurt her.

Natasha runs past you, jumping up off the wall and wrapping her legs around your neck. You pin her arms back and lean down, flipping her over in front of you. She breaks free from your grasp and jumps, spinning and kicking you directly in the face.

You fall over and close your eyes, consciousness barely hanging on. Natasha is a damn good fighter and you could admit it. Natasha hovers over you, pulling the drive out of your pocket.

"Some things don't change," She says just before you black out.

When you finally wake up, pain surges through your body. The familiar metallic taste of blood in your mouth reminds you of what happened.

You move to pull your hands free but it seems they cuffed you with some heavy metal cuffs. They definitely seem to be stopping your powers from being used. You are in a bedroom, which seems to be weird for the team as they have their own interrogation room and cells.

A figure comes into view and you know it's Natasha. "It's funny, you always end up in front of me bound by something," She chuckles. I sigh and close my eyes, the headache pounding in my head is not helping the pain.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it."

Natasha pulls her knife out, pushing the tip under my chin and lifting my head. "Aw, you wound me, baby."

"Don't call me that," You spit, clenching your jaw. You and Natasha always had a love-hate relationship. You were a villain and her job was to kill them.

"Tell me why you need the drive and maybe we can have a little fun," She whispers in your ear. You decide to play along, long enough for her to get you out of these cuffs.

"If I tell you, will you take these cuffs off?" You ask, giving her a defeated look.

"Yes."

"They paid me to take it, said there are plans on it they need. I didn't get any other information. I just know that they can kill me easily." Natasha sits on the chair across from you, spinning her knife in her hand.

"Who?"

"I have no idea. Some alien guy, he's weird looking," You tell her. You try to steady your heartbeat and avoid actions that will tell her you are lying.

Natasha seems to like this answer because she gets up and walks behind you. A moment later, the cuffs are no longer clasped on your hands.

You feel Natasha's hands on your shoulders, gliding down your arms. You almost shiver at her touch. You don't want to play into this, but she has given you no choice.

There's a smile on her face when you spin around, your hands on her waist. Your lips meet hers and the kiss is almost electric. Her lips are soft and you taste the cherry lipgloss.

She pushes you onto the bed but you flip over and get on top of her, unzipping her suit. Her belt is thrown onto the floor, not before you take something out of it.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," You whisper against the skin of her neck. You kiss down it, your warm lips sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands roam your body, pulling up your shirt. You stop her before she can fully take it off. "No, let me take care of your first, baby."

She pulls you into a kiss before you descend down her body, leaving trails of kisses. You pull the rest of the suit down to her ankles, kissing up her thigh.

You reach her lips, kissing them before spreading her legs and pushing your face close. Your tongue glides over her clit, circling it. Natasha moans, lifting her hips up and throwing her head back.

You wanted so badly to finish what you started, but you needed the drive and Natasha wasn't going to distract you again.

So you pull away, crawling on top of her and grabbing her face to kiss her. You carefully place a tazer disk on her nack and get off her before activating it.

Natasha gasps and falls unconscious from the tazer and you cover her up with a blanket. This was payback for the last time she caught you. This was your thing, always leaving the other wanting more. It kept up the attraction.

This time you may have gone too far, but your life depended on getting this drive and you didn't care what you did to get it.

You won this time.

#natasha romanoff #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha x reader #angst #x reader #viixenvi #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #black widow x reader #smut #kinda angsty #nat and reader have a complicated past #some smut

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for-ests · 3 days

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Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Suffocation MLIST Summary: Time spent apart from Gojo means time spent with the students. That is, until your powers awaken. ps,, new chapter leaks?? we are so back!!! <3 Wc: 6, 500

The two of you, in fact, never got the chance to talk about it. You had fallen asleep on the couch, this time without him but with the students and your brother. As Gojo passed the common room on his way out, he thought about waking you to say goodbye. But you looked so peaceful leaning against the armrest, with Yuji curled beside you like a kitten.

The fact that Nobara, let alone Megumi, felt comfortable enough to do the same made Gojo's heart swell. All of them leaned against each other until it fell on you, your arms once spread wide but now curling into your chest, a peaceful smile spreading across your dream-filled face.

All he could do was pull out his phone and snap a picture, hoping he would get close enough with you to show it someday. To really make you understand that you were the missing piece in all of their lives. You would be a great mother. You would be a fantastic wife. You were everything and more.

Time did not matter; only the impact did. And what a crater you would leave behind.

What was this feeling?

Gojo allowed himself to steal one more look at you before returning to the duties he dreaded. It was convenient to be the most powerful sorcerer for once, as he deliberately teleported back to leave a present on your vanity, praying you would miss him as much as he would miss you in the next few days. Hoping you would understand.

When you woke, Gojo was already gone. And as you checked your phone later in the morning, you found his message.

Annoying ass teacher guy:> Will be back in a few days. Don't miss me too much, princess.

He imagined that since you were around the students, you would try to hide your blush as well as you could before typing back a witty reply with ease.

Yuji’s sister </3:> And if I miss you too much?

Annoying ass teacher guy:> I don't want you to be sad, but that might make what i'll do to you even more special ;)

Yuji’s sister </3:> you flirt

Annoying ass teacher guy:> check your desk

"Ugh!! Nanamiiiinnn!" Gojo sighed dramatically, flinging himself next to Nanami on the couch. It was idiotic with how anxious he was for your reply.

"What Gojo?" he grumbled, tersely flipping the page of his book.

"I won't see her for three days!" he whined. "Will she remember who I am?"

"The fact that she texted you back should be your answer," Nanami sighed, dismissing his friend's behavior as another joke. He didn't even know who Gojo was talking about, as he had already tuned out the teasing and nonchalance all morning. "Keep in mind we are here for work."

"We're done with work for the day, so you dont have an excuse to not listen to me."

Nanami put his book down, heaving a sigh. "Fine, spit it out."

A long silence passed as Gojo gathered his thoughts, deciding to start from the beginning. He didn't know if Yuji had said anything to Nanami yet about your arrival, but it didn't matter. Gojo wanted to talk about you; hell, he needed to. Just to think about something else, anything to get your face out of his mind. Talking about it had to help, right? His emotions were always bottled up, but this feeling… this one, was unlike any other.

Plus, Nanami had always been good with women. Advice shouldn't hurt, even if he was seeking it out from the person who would be harshest with him. It was needed.

And so, Gojo decided to ramble as he described your arrival, abilities, relation to Yuji, and what the two of you had already gone through in a week. The last thing he added was your beauty, which was definitely worth asseverating.

"She's all I can think about," he repined.

Nanami deadpanned. "You've only known her for a week," he said without thinking, but then really reflected on how Gojo was acting, how he talked about you, and how he said your name. There was a deep yearning, carefully covered with humor and dramatics. Had he ever seriously cared for a woman this much before? Nanami couldn't think of a time. Gojo was his usual, over-dramatic self, but Nanami noticed the differences. It was in the way Gojo moved, the slight uncertainty in his eyes, and how relieved his body language became once he finished his tangent.

Even just the description of you intrigued Nanami. Yes, it was astonishing to hear that Yuji had a sister and even more surprising to discover you had unique, undocumented cursed energy.

"You think the flowers were too much?"

"You bought a woman flowers?" Nanami's cold demeanor cracked into one of surprise. Then, he awkwardly cleared his throat to cover. "Absolutely not; flowers are a very safe choice."

"Seriously, is it that surprising?" Gojo sighed in defeat. "Why is everyone so surprised? I went on dates all the time, I know how to please a woman!"

"Not that you couldn't do it, but chose to."

That caused Gojo to fall silent. How his friend was able to read him so clearly was astonishing in itself. He was right, and that's what bothered Gojo. He had walked through life expecting never to feel this way, as he didn't have the time or energy to keep a woman by his side long enough for it to be worth it, let alone labeled. But with you, he wanted to. All he needed was for you to say yes.

Watching Gojo's eyebrows furrow, the realization spreading across his face, Nanami continued. "I know you've been with women before, but it actually seems like you deeply care for her. In the decade I've known you, I've never seen you like this."

"There's just something about her." Gojo twirled his phone between his fingers. Staring off into the distance. "I don't know what to do."

"Why wouldn't you know what to do?"

Part of Gojo was still determining whether he should allow himself to entertain the thought of you. Was this smart? Was he being fooled in a way he never thought possible? It was hard to trust, but you had never made him uneasy. Sometimes, you only need to look at a person to understand their intentions. And yours were pure.

But Gojo had been fooled before. All that distrust came flooding back as he thought of your unique ability. You somehow slipped past his infinity, and it frustrated him. He had let his guard down around you without realizing it. It was as simple as breathing when you were near. You weren't just beautiful and kind; you were also powerful. A road that could prove treacherous if he didn't play his cards right, not just for him but for everyone who relied on him, too.

"I've never felt this way before."

"And why are you making that seem like a bad thing?"

"Have you ever pictured me with a woman by my side?"

"I sure hoped and prayed that there was someone who could put you in your place."

Reluctantly, Gojo finally asked the question that mattered most. "What if I hurt her?"

"You probably will, but that's just how relationships go sometimes. Especially with a life as complicated as ours. Whether she can handle it or not, is up to her."

Gojo soaked in Nanami's words, ultimately concluding that he was worrying too much. If it was meant to be, it would. Right?

Everything eventually worked itself out, and he hoped that it could end in you being his alone. What wishful thinking.

"You know what Nanamin?" Gojo glanced over at his friend and coworker. "You're right."

And once Nanami saw that mischievous smile spread back across Gojo's face, he knew everything was back to normal. He shook his head, the slightest smile threatening to grace his lips. But Gojo knew he was hiding it when the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Why do you look so smug?"

"I just can't believe that someone is willing to date you."

"You are so mean!" Gojo whined again, standing up from the couch and walking sluggishly to the exit as if he had been physically wounded. "I'll prove you wrong, Nanamin. Next time we meet she'll be in love with me."

And then, his phone pinged a message from you.

Y/N<3:> I love it, Satoru.

Curious, you wandered back into your room after breakfast. His message had left you operating at half capacity from the anticipation of it all. As soon as you opened the door, your eyes darted to your desk, where you found a bouquet of roses. The most beautiful bundle you'd ever seen.

There was a vase with a note attached. Picking it up with one hand, the other thumbed over the soft, ruby petals. As you finished the note, a permanent smile spread across your face for the rest of the day.

Keep the vase beautiful. As long as you're here, you won't go a week without flowers. - Satoru

One day turned into two, and you couldn't configure why it made you sad. It really shouldn't. Gojo's absence should be acceptable to you, but the longing in your chest told you otherwise.

Yuji claimed he was just on an emergency assignment and assured you it was normal. None of the students or staff seemed to bat an eye at his absence either. It allowed you to settle in without distractions and gave you more free time to befriend Yuji and the students. They trained with you, taught you what they knew, and refused to leave you alone for over an hour. In fact, they made your apartment their new hangout spot. They claimed it was cozy and smelled good, and you were too nice to refuse their company.

A gigantic beanbag had been brought in, and they were taking advantage of your Nintendo Switch games while you skimmed through a textbook peacefully on your bed. The campus library was a perfect resource, filled with specific literary curse techniques you couldn’t find elsewhere. You were learning so much, not just about jujutsu but also about yourself and your abilities. If only you could uncover the link between them all.

The sound effects of Mario Kart and the focused grunts of the students filled the room. The race ended, and Yuji sighed in defeat. “Are you sure you don’t wanna get in on this, Y/N?” he asked, head falling to the beanbag as he stared at you upside down.

“I need to study!” you chuckled. “Maybe next time?”

“Gojo should be back tonight, maybe he’ll join.” Megumi shrugged, already forcing the three of them into another tournament. You couldn’t help but perk up slightly at the mention of the white-haired sorcerer. He hadn’t told you when he’d return, and you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted to talk with him.

“But he always wins!” Yuji groaned.

“Oh?” you snorted. “So you only want me to join so you can beat me?”

Yuji snapped his head up, laughing nervously. “No I promise!”

Sticking your tongue out, your eyes returned to the textbook in your lap.

Nobara watched you closely before the match started, and your reaction to the mention of her Sensei confirmed her suspicions. Your sudden smile was also a dead giveaway.

“I bet Y/N would join if Gojo was here~” she teased, snickering to herself.

That definitely interrupted your train of thought, and you immediately became flustered. At least one person noticed something was going on.

“What makes you say that?” you squeaked, mentally smacking yourself for how obvious you sounded, cheeks already beginning to burn. There was no reason for you to be nervous about it. Yes, Gojo was their teacher… but you were an adult and had no previous affiliation with him to make it scandalous. A relationship with Gojo might only be weird if Yuji was uncomfortable. Would he be? Were you thinking way too much about it?

You were definitely jumping to conclusions. Gojo probably didn’t feel the same way about you. Gifts could only get him so far. His nickname for you and how he touched you didn’t necessarily mean he wanted what you did.

Then you remembered what he did to you before he left. And your anxiety spiked once again.

“You like him, do you not?” Nobara pried through a lighthearted laugh, even if she couldn’t understand. The thought made her want to barf. You were way too good for him. But her Sensei had his perks, and maybe, just maybe, he deserved someone like you in his life.

Fuck. You really wished Gojo was there to do the talking, to make it seem like a joke, to deflect the accusation with his ridiculous and ambiguous humor. You were so unsure about everything, but especially Gojo. You didn’t know him well enough yet, you didn’t know the students well enough to put a label on anything. “I mean…” you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. “What's not to like?”

Megumi facepalmed, knowing what was about to happen.

“You like-like Gojo Sensei?” Yuji asked in confusion, almost dropping the switch remote.

Your hands shot up in defense, growing frantic and flustered when all three students craned their heads to stare at you. “I dont know?”

“Oh my God,” Megumi sighed in defeat. “She does.”

“Really?” Yuji blinked multiple times, glancing at his friends and then back to you, wondering if he’d been too oblivious to realize. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“You both are so dumb sometimes.” Nobara pinched her nose. “Who do you think got her those roses on her desk?”

They all turned their heads to look at your desk, which, in fact, still displayed the flamboyant bouquet of red roses placed neatly in a glass vase. It was so obvious. Of course, Nobara would notice something like that.

“It’s not what it looks like…” you tittered, wanting to run into your closet and hide from the embarrassment of it all.

“I assumed it was just a friendly welcoming gift!” Yuji fussed in response to being called dumb.

“Red is the color of love, idiot,” Megumi sighed.

Yuji slumped further into the bean bag, releasing an even more exasperated sigh than Megumi. He wasn’t upset about it, only frustrated that he wasn’t the first to notice and ask you about it. Days passed, and nobody said a word about something so important. Gojo liked you? Like that?

“Have you kissed?” Nobara pried further, desperate to hear the gossip.

You didn’t reply, trying to hide the bashful smile that threatened to spread across your face by biting down on your lip. You did more than just kiss, but you would keep that to yourself. Even if you didn’t say anything, what you felt was displayed in your expression. Why were you so bad at lying?

Nobara threw her head back with a cackle, nudging Yuji in his side. “How do you feel Yuji? Gojo likes your sister!”

Your brother seemed to ponder for a minute longer than you hoped for, but all he did was shrug and admit, “I’m surprised,” he said, but then smiled at you with kindness and understanding in his eyes. “If that’s what you want Y/N. I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” Your mouth dropped open. “It's not weird?” you asked none of them in particular.

“I don’t think it's weird,” Megumi finally butted in. “Gojo can be a good person when he wants to be.”

“Yeah!” Yuji beamed at you, thinking it funny that you would consider his feelings in the matter. “You don’t need to worry about how I would feel. You’re my sister, but only as of recently. You deserve to be with who you want!”

What a gentle, kind, and loving soul your brother was. How could he be so sweet at such a young age? It had taken you far longer to open yourself up, to trust, and seek happiness. He made it seem easy, as if he hadn’t endured his own trauma of death and separation.

“Thanks, Yuji.” You smiled back at him, relaxing back to your previous, unbothered demeanor. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“That’s it?” Nobara sighed. “No more details?”

“No more details.” You scrunched your face at her teasingly. “Once I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Boooooo,” she jeered, picking up a remote and leaning back toward Yuji. “At least we have something to blackmail Gojo with now,” she whispered loud enough for you to hear.

Yuji chuckled at that, and so did Megumi. They all continued to play their game, and you went back to reading your book. You smiled as you scanned through the lines and jotted down notes about domain expansions. According to Gojo, they were a rare occurrence, but it was wise to be as prepared as possible. You remembered as much as you could about his—how awakened and alive you felt. A cursed spirit would be a different story, though. And you preferred to not think more about it just yet. You only hoped you would never be trapped in one.

About to turn another page, you felt that all too familiar rush of dread.

No…not right now. It was too soon.

A gasp left your lips, and you went rigid. Before you could even think to warn Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara of what they were about to witness, the upper portion of your body violently snapped back into the bed.

The headboard smacked against the wall loud enough to alert the students. One breath was all you could take before a sudden coldness infected every portion of your body. Then, you began to cease, all control of your body vanishing.

“Y/N?” Yuji immediately shot up from the beanbag, followed by his duo. They all rushed to your bed as if sensing the pressure in the room change. The candle you had burning blew out as Yuji scooped his hands under your head, trying his best to cradle you. “What’s wrong?”

“Is she okay?” Megumi barked, eyes wide in concern. Nobara’s eyes shot to the now-smoking candle.

A few more spasms ricocheted through your body, and you grit your teeth in an attempt to relax. All you needed to speak was a few strained sentences. Your body was so stiff, and you could feel your hands clench. Your eyes started to droop before you could stop them.

“N…Notebook…” you stuttered, trying to gesture to the only one sitting on your desk. “And quill!” you forced out. It clicked without further explaining for Megumi, and he snatched them and brought them to you.

Yuji, on the other hand, was frantic, shouting your name over and over again. Nobara was reaching for her cell phone, yelling about calling an ambulance.

“Normal!” you cried out, shaking uncontrollably. “It's normal…” You went limp in Yuji’s arms and were finally able to rush out what you needed. “Don’t call anyone–” you strained.

It wasn’t a typical seizure; you knew it. Your body contorted in ways that looked painful and unnatural, and you knew you were scaring them. This was the first time you were losing control in front of others. Tears started gathering in the corner of your eyes from the fear of it all, from the judgment and the embarrassment.

Then, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you ceased again. It would continue to happen until you picked up that stupid quill. You felt helpless, not just for yourself but for your poor brother, who was now about to witness just how strange you really were.

The last thing you felt was Megumi sliding the quill into your enclosed grip.

Gojo felt the shift before he opened your door, the gifts he brought back for you and the students falling to the floor as he burst through it, freezing as his eyes settled on your contorted body. You were utterly still, the only part of you moving was your hand, metal tip scribbling against the paper. The sound of it was abhorrent as if every etch foretold destruction. Invisible dread hung in the air, undoubtedly coming from whatever prophecy you were weaving.

But your eyes were what scared him. They were completely rolled back into your head, so much so that the blood vessels looked as if they were going to burst. You suddenly began to twitch violently, making Yuji gasp with concern, making Gojo rush to your side, dancing along a frantic line.

“Gojo Sensei!” Megumi turned to him with wide eyes. “What’s happening?”

“It's okay!” He approached you as if he was in a trance, and the students moved aside. He didn’t know if you were okay if this was normal or expected. You had only summarized these episodes briefly.

Once he was at your side, his knees gave out. He felt almost paralyzed, gazing at you in such apparent pain and unable to think of a way to fix it. This was an undiscovered form of cursed energy. He tried desperately to scan through his memories for one instance of something similar but came up with nothing.

“She was fine just a second ago,” Nobara muttered in shock, glancing around as if she could solve it and relieve your predicament.

“Did she say anything before?” Gojo asked, eyebrows knitting with worry.

“T-That it was normal,” Yuji said, standing behind Gojo with a worried, distraught expression, noticing how his Sensei’s eyebrows furrowed as if he, too, was at a loss for what to do. Yuji couldn’t recall a time when Gojo was confused, let alone displayed such concern.

Gojo relaxed slightly but still reached out and adjusted your pillow to support your neck. At that point, he didn’t care if his students watched him reach out and caress your cheek. He was so worried. It didn’t matter if you had warned him about something like this. The way you twitched and gasped and the tears that still poured from the corners of your eyes made him furious.

Glancing at the notebook that your quill was scratching erratically on, Gojo still found it blank even as he used his six eyes. “I saw her last prophecy. But I can't see anything yet. I think she has to finish,” he whispered, grasping your other hand to let you know he was there for you.

Faintly, your pinky finger twitched against his palm, curving around his own finger before going limp again. Then, you twitched, a loud gasp heaving from your throat.

“Something is coming,” was all you said, eyes still rolled back before you shot up into a sitting position. It seemed impossible, but you began to scratch faster as your cursed energy burst to life, almost engulfing the entire room. All-consuming was the green aura, and the surprise of it all caused Gojo to jolt back. Nobara yelped in fright.

When everyone glanced back at you, they realized the notebook was floating, so were you and the loose items around you. And now, your eyes were glowing. Your aura was so unique, so rare. It was calming when it should be everything but.

The quill left the paper and began to brush more fluidly, calmly, and peacefully into the open space around you. Trying to focus, Gojo started to understand what you were actually doing. As beautiful as it was, the Kanji began to flow together to cast a spell. An ancient one, not a prophecy.

It felt like a mirage, as if Gojo was stepping through a rainbow. Beautiful colors, your beautiful face. The depths of your soul. The parts of you he craved to know. He saw flashes of you, moments that hadn't happened yet but felt like they were meant to. Your smile, your kindness, loyalty, and trust. Love was what it was. And he had so much of it to give. He would die for you in a heartbeat; he would do anything to keep that pretty smile on your face. He imagined himself holding you, imagined how amazing it would feel to call you his wife—he saw himself getting down on one knee, that expensive ring sparkling from inside a black velvet box. With tears streaming down your face, you nodded furiously. “I love you so much, Satoru.”

“Gojo what are you doing?” Megumi’s voice interrupted his vision, tinged with panic and warning.

The promised future vanished as quickly as it came, as Gojo realized he was holding your face, and you were holding his. No, not just his face; the fingers of your left hand were curled around his blindfold, and your right hand had begun to tug at the knot. You had almost slipped past the infinity that protected his soul. And you would have done it with ease.

Surprised, Gojo tugged his head back. And at the loss of contact, you gasped. A cry left your lips as the cursed energy you released shot back inside of you, snapping your body back to the bed. The silence that followed was deafening, and all anyone could hear was the sound of their pounding hearts, trying desperately to clear their minds of the haze your aura commanded.

The students and teacher all glanced at each other with dazed expressions. Glossy eyes and opened mouths proved that all of them had seen something, not just Gojo.

“What did you see Yuji?” Gojo asked, snapping back to reality faster than them. He knew you were okay by the steadiness of your breathing but was still cautious to get too close again.

Your brother blinked, still trying to comprehend what he’d seen. It felt so genuine and authentic like it had happened before. “I was sitting next to Y/N at a large dinner table. We all were…toasting to something. I don’t know what, but I was so happy. She told me how proud she was to be my sister. There were others there too but I couldn’t see their faces. You were on the other side of her, Sensei.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped to the others, taking note of Yuji’s explanation. A different vision, but similar to his—both of their visions highlight a relationship to you.

Megumi could feel Gojo’s gaze on him, knowing he’d been asked a question, but couldn’t muster a response. He knew he looked like a deer in the headlights, sort of how Yuji and Nobara both did. But instead of being able to explain what flashed through his mind, Megumi just swallowed hard in hopes of distracting himself from the pang in his chest.

There was no way, just no way. What had he even seen? Was it the future? Was it something he wanted and didn’t even know? All he knew was that the mirage had cracked the second he called you mom. Megumi had called you mom. There were no words to describe the feeling that constricted at his throat and prevented him from speaking. What he saw was you resting under a tree, nestled between his demon dogs and reading a book. They had grown a liking to you, just as he had.

“I need them for training, mom,” Megumi called over, rolling his eyes.

“But I’m so comfy!” you whined, and the dogs snorted in agreement.

“When you’re done, please let me know.”

What did that even mean? How did that happen? Regardless, the gaping hole of belongingness cracked open further. And as Megumi ruminated over what he’d seen, he was left even more confused.

“We were shopping for…clothes…” Nobara finally said, but stopped before finishing. She intentionally broke her Sensei's focus after noticing the turmoil and confusion in Megumi’s eyes. The unanticipated vision was confusing her, too. The two of you had been shopping for baby clothes. And as she thought harder, she realized you had a slight baby bump poking through your sundress. The floppy summer hat you wore could not conceal the happiness in your eyes as you looked at her, wondering which outfit she thought was the cutest. After she gave her advice, you replied, “You’re gonna be the best auntie ever.”

Was this a glimpse of the future? And if so, did the others have a similar premonition like hers?

Dazed, you finally opened your eyes. The overhead light blinded you, only for a moment, before you remembered where you were and who you were surrounded with. Tears slipped past your eyelids before you could stop them. There were so many emotions and questions racing through your entire body that it would be impossible to properly formulate them. You were shaking still, feeling like you were being chased out of an incredible high. A high that reached its peak and was crashing down, leaving you distraught and fatigued.

“I’m sorry!” you choked out between gasps, feeling like you were suffocating, sitting up to see all of them staring at you with apprehensive eyes. “I-I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Gojo immediately rushed back to your side, grasping your failing hands and pressing them softly into your lap. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay.”

Nodding furiously with tears streaming down your face, you inhaled sharply, his touch instantly soothing you.

“Slower.” Gojo nodded. “It’s okay.”

Feeling the pounding in your ears start to fade, you swallowed, mustering a sad smile as you glanced at him. He looked so worried from what you could see on his face, and it made a peculiar hollowness reside within your thoughts, realizing you had ruined his arrival. Your surroundings were different, too. Your books and supplies were strewn across the floor, along with presents at the entrance to your room. Had Gojo brought home gifts?

“I don’t know what happened. That’s never happened before.”

Your expression of paranoia explained enough to the white-haired sorcerer. Was that look in your eyes one of guilt? What could you possibly feel guilty for? Were you afraid he wouldn't believe you?

“I believe you,” Gojo whispered, releasing his hands from covering yours. He hesitated, wanting to comfort you more, but relented. You probably needed your space anyway. There was no clear answer for what just happened, and you were nonplussed, looking to him for answers he couldn’t give you. At least, not immediately, but he would try his best.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yuji questioned as he crossed the room, taking the opportunity to comfort you now that Gojo backed away. “Are you hurt?”

Remaining silent as Yuji gave you a hug, Gojo watched the two of you interact, mostly Yuji fussing over you, asking over and over again if you were okay. “No, no, I’m fine.” You tried your best to smile at your brother.

“Are you sure?” Gojo pressed further, recognizing the uncertainty in your eyes. This was a shock to everyone, Gojo especially, unsure how to feel about the glimpse into his future. Was it wise for him to know something that important? His feelings for you were already passional, and he was undeniably infatuated with you. A seer with comparable powers hadn’t been born in centuries, so the validity of your visions was unknown. But, visions were more tangible and easier to understand than prophecies. Was this a promise or a hint? Could it be changed based on the choices he made?

“Do you remember what happened?” Gojo finally asked after a stretch of silence.

Shaking your head, you looked over at the notebook beside you. The energy was palpable, and it was coming from it. You pushed it across the bed and nodded at him to take it. Part of you was scared to read its contents, from the impartial images that flashed through your mind, from the inexplicability of it all and the lack of understanding. What scared you the most, though, was that you were certain. What you saw was going to happen eventually. You didn’t know when or how it would happen, but it would. None of your predictions ever failed to come true.

Scanning the words, Gojo sat down on the bed next to you. He seemed calmer than you, acting like what he witnessed was an everyday experience. Somehow, it helped settle your thoughts. If he wasn't worried, there was no reason for you to be either. The trust you were developing for him only resonated deeper.

The students huddled around Gojo, trying to peak over his shoulder for a glimpse of the cursed energy.

“Let me see it!” Yuji whined.

That managed to make you laugh through your nose.

As soon as the sky is colored green,

The chosen one will realize their blindness

Souls will clash and die, but love will blossom

Children of clans from old fight demons that seek redemption,

The day the king returns, all hope will be lost until she aw—a. A. Awake. Awaken—अहं भाषा वदामि। त्मरक्षा एव वास्तविकशक्ति

संरक्षण-संरक्षण-आह्वानम्-नरके मृत्योः च मुक्तं अवगच्छन्त

रक्षणार्थं आह्वानम्-नरकेभ्यः मृत्योः च मुक्तम्

Death rebirths life

You saw what you'd written, the look of bewilderment on their faces, and the deafening silence that followed. Snatching the journal from Gojo, you brought it closer to get a better look.

“What language is that?” Nobara asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s sanskrit,” Gojo replied lowly, confusion lacing his tone. Something odd was definitely happening. Only the oldest spells were written in that dead language, long before humans gained a proper understanding of what jujutsu entailed. He couldn’t understand all the words, only bits and pieces, referencing the oldest spells recorded in history.

“I-I don’t understand.” Your eyes glossed over with worry. “I don’t know Sanskrit.”

“I think only a few people do,” Megumi added.

“It looks like something hijacked your prophecy.” Gojo pointed out, noticing the green color fade from your cursed energy into something black and ancient. He pointed at one symbol. “This means I create.” He moved down the line. “And this means protection.”

“A protection spell?” Nobara muttered.

This felt too familiar, and the revelation was on the tip of Gojo’s tongue. Long ago, there was a clan of witches comprised entirely of women. Remnants of their bloodline still remained, but it had been hundreds of years since they were in power. Most of their history remained undocumented, but they specialized in prophecy and ancestral magic. Gojo skimmed through his memory, trying to recall the last written prophecy from the supreme.

Gojo looked at you, and it clicked into place.

A low, sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

“I need to speak with Y/N alone,” Gojo said to the students, not leaving room for debate. His tone was so firm that they reluctantly scrambled for the exit without protest.

Yuji glanced back at you hesitantly. Concern was engraved in his expression. He mouthed, text me before shutting the door behind him. You and Gojo listened to their footsteps scurrying down the hall, and he didn’t turn toward you until he heard all of their doors click shut. The scarcity they left behind was apparent, and you were growing nervous about what he would say.

“Do you know anything about your family history?”

All you could do was shake your head.

“I had my suspicions that you were more powerful, but now I’m suspecting you’ve been chosen as a conduit. What happened during your episode is called an emergence.”

Your demeanor stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“It could mean a lot of things. There hasn’t been a seer of your potential for centuries. There’s definitely a mix of bloodlines happening, as Yuji is Sukuna’s vessel and can remain in control of his body. You on the other hand, the eldest daughter, might be a descendant of a long-defunct clan that hasn’t been in power since Sukuna’s defeat, which they helped aid in. You are clearly vulnerable when you’re recording your prophecies, and I believe the Sanskrit was one of your ancestors taking that opening. I only know that it could be a protection spell, but we should have it translated just to make sure.” He paused. "

“How do you know this?”

“It’s only a theory so far. But the gift of prophecy is yours alone. The words you wrote… Will come true, all things considered,” Gojo trailed off, losing his train of thought. He wanted to tell you what you’d shown him and that the students had clearly seen something. But he didn't move; he barely even breathed. Ruminating over how beautiful you looked in that vision almost stopped his heart. He wasn't trying to be funny or flirty. He looked just as concerned and embarrassed as you, wishing he had the answers as always. But it seemed that only more questions arose when it came to you.

Gojo’s body language seemed conflicted. Maybe you were more spot-on than you assumed.

“Won't they?” he pried.

“I hope not.” You glanced away, only remembering the words of demise, scribbled over and over again before a dead language emerged, further adding to the confusion of your connection to this life. If Gojo's prediction was correct, it would strengthen the hopeless feeling rising in your chest that your entire life was a lie. How you now looked at yourself was anything but satisfactory, unaware of the promise of a better future that Gojo glimpsed.

A gift, like he said, but also a curse that you would never wish upon another. Every day that passed made you question if foresight really was a blessing.

All Gojo could configure was how tired you looked. A lifetime of information had been dumped on you within an hour. Instead of being hard on you like he initially promised in that bar, he wanted to comfort you. But that defeated look in your eyes spoke volumes of what you really needed.

There was no rush. At least, not yet.

"Why don't you get some rest,” he whispered, standing up to peel the covers back for you. “I’ll find a translator later.”

Sighing deeply, you glanced up at him before relenting, letting him pull the covers over your body. You watched Gojo as he stacked your books on your bedside table, tidying up what had been misplaced.

A part of you wished he would stay. And perhaps he would have if you asked, but the second your head snuggled into your pillow, the world started to fade away.

"Thank you, Satoru," you whispered faintly.

"For what, princess?"

"Everything." Was all you mustered in your enervated state. You really wanted to thank him for his willingness to help you, for not abandoning you or being afraid. For taking care of your brother, for not giving up, and for making you feel butterflies in a world of darkness and despair.

Turning off the lamp on your bedside table, Gojo watched your eyes flutter shut. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead. You hummed in response, the corners of your lips upturning sleepily.

He wondered if you saw the future as he did, speculating whether or not you wished for his presence the way he did yours. Regardless, he failed to express that you could rely on him no matter what and that you would never have to suffer alone again.

That may be the most potent form of love he could provide.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Tags :) @aetrimis @ihatethisbye @that-one-enthusiast @ti-mame @torusmochi @azgucci @getosfavmonkeyy @allisonbaelfire @gojoslefttoenail

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen

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soobinskii · 2 days

Text

p1h ass vs titties.

warnings : spanking, boob sucking.

keeho likes ass. he loves slapping your ass and seeing the jiggle of it. he watches you walk and will always stand behind you while holding you close to him. keeho also likes holding onto your hips and swaying side to side. you'd have to pry his hands off of your butt.

"your ass is so fuckin' hot, babe. i love the way it moves."

theo likes tits. he likes the simplicity of them. the perfect display of femininity, they're soft and squishy. he could just lay on your boobs for hours, if you'd let him. he'd be more than happy to stay there and rest on them as you play with his hair.

"i enjoy laying on your chest, it's like a perfect pillow.. all for me."

jiung likes thighs. he loves biting on them. he likes curvier girls, just so he has more room to lay his head. he's another one to watch you walk, just to see them move with every step you take. when he cums, he'll cum on your thighs (if accessible). but if he MUST choose between the two, ass. it's the closest thing to thighs.

"your thighs are so amazing. i could stare at them forever. would you let me stick my dick inbetween them?"

intak likes ass. he loves the roundness of a good, fat ass. he could get off to his s/o twerking, or giving him a lap dance. yes, he'll slap some ass, however he's more of a squeezer. he likes fondling the cheeks between his hands and moving it around, pulling them apart while his cock is deep within you just so he can see more.

"goddamn, your ass is so fat. your shit moves like water, can i lick and bite it?"

soul likes tits. he can get a bit subby, so he's one to suck on your nipples and bury his face between them. he'll honestly suck on any part of your boob that he can get to. he'll leave tiny marks; hickies, bites, trails of spit. he zones out while he's all over your titties, his mind going quiet.

"mmm..? sorry about the mess, i got a little carried away.."

jongseob likes both. he loves everything about you, he has his preferences based on the day. most of the time, he doesn't care what he's grabbing, he just grabs. he's always so horny and just wants to make the two of you cum that he's not really thinking of a preference, just anything to get you creaming on his cock the fastest.

"what can i do to make you cum harder? would you like me to slap your ass, play with your boobs?"

a/n : i'm writing for shota & jongseob because they're legal. if you don't like it, please don't read their parts. if you enjoyed please consider reblogging <3

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deerlottie · 2 days

Text

☢️ — uranium fever

summary: lucy tops you for the first time and she ends up liking it more than she thought she would. warnings: 18+ MDNI, top!lucy, fem!reader, BIONIC strap on use :P, penetration, i dont know how to end fics im sorry

"you know,” you start, gripping onto lucy’s sides and smirking up at her. “you look really hot when you’re on top of me like this.”

“oh, yeah?” she puffs out her chest and bites her lip.

“mhm. it’s a shame you don’t know how to top.” you tease, pinching her side which she responds to with a low whine.

"stop it." she pouts, shoving your shoulder. she leans down and starts nibbling on your neck again, feeling pride swell up at your soft moans. "i sooo can top you. how about you let me try?" she starts running her nails along your stomach, her deep voice making you twitch with lust.

"be my guest." you grin, and she squeals before pushing off of you and rushing towards the closet, reaching for your favorite strap-on. the bionic one, where you can feel everything. "good choice."

it's lucy's favorite too. she loves to talk back to you about how deep and good you're fucking her, enjoying how she can feel you twitch inside of her at her teasing words. she's fantasized about using it on you countlessly, even going as far as wearing it while you're out at a vault shift and jerking off using one of your panties.

lucy shakes with excitement as she puts it on, making sure it's tight enough before jumping back on the bed and pulling you close to her by your legs.

"not wasting any time, huh? you're that eager to fuck me?"

"you don't know how long i've dreamed about this." she confesses, leaning her body over yours while humping her cock against your pussy. you both moan at the contact and you wrap your legs around hers, fingers tracing along her back. "i've always thought about how hot it would be if i was the one making you scream out my name."

you can feel your clit throb at her words and your body flush. you're not gonna lie - you've thought about it too, but you just assumed she liked being pleased rather than doing the pleasing. i mean, she never complained about always being a pillow princess when you'd tease her about it. but, god, the thought of lucy dicking you down is a delicious idea.

"show me how you fantasized about fucking me, lucy." you whisper in her ear. "please."

she nods, grabbing her faux cock and spitting on it before slowly inserting it inside of you. she easily bottoms out with how wet you are and collapsing on top of your body, lazily rutting against you. she mewls against your neck at how warm your pussy feels, trying to get use to the new feeling. she doesn't want to cum immediately, but goddamn, the way you're clenching around her dick might make her.

lucy gains as much composure as she can and starts giving you long and deep thrusts, cherishing how you struggle to keep your moans in. once again, pride gets to her head and she gets more into it - sitting up straighter and grabbing your hips for leverage as she fucks you.

"i wanna cum inside of this pussy so bad." she throws her head back and groans, a blind hand reaching for your tit and squeezing. she pinches and tugs at your nipple, biting her lip at how they bounce as she pounds into you. "wanna claim you. will you let me?"

"fuck, lucy, yes." you grab a hold of her hand on your chest and rub your thumb over her skin. she's so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel her in your stomach which burns with pleasure. "show me who i belong to."

"i'm gonna use you until my cum can't fit inside of you anymore." she growls, getting hot over the sound of her skin slapping against yours.

this is gonna be a long night, you think.

#.myworks #lucy maclean thoughts 💭#lucy maclean x reader

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nonuify · 2 days

Note

hihi! if it is possible could you do some hoshi nsfw headcanons please :3, thank you pretty princess!

ᝰ.ᐟ 🌟 — K.SY ; ! nsfw headcanons

nsfw is included ! minors do not interact 18+.

now hoshi loves when he blindsfolds you vice versa, he loves the way you don’t know where his next move is the anticipation, the sexual tension it’s just perfect.

its canon he’s a body worshipper to you, he is also obsessed with eating you out especially kissing your lil cunt he would make out with for hours.

if he’s really into it, he’ll spit into your mouth just saying 🫢.

hosh, loves loves loves pegging we all know our lil tiger loves his bum getting stuffed !!.

his fav position is 69, I just envision him loving it very much !! like you & him getting that head oh em gee it’s just heaven for him.

he is sooo obsessed with your boobs like so so much, he is a certified boob guy, he’ll cum, fuck, grope or slap whatever involves your boob he will be involved too.

aftercare is a must for him even after nasty fucking he will take care of you & you will take care of him.

stop bc he will buy you thongs, like he would buy you every color, fabrics of it he loves seeing that plump ass & cumming on it.

lowkey you would make him wear thongs too just saying, slapping it whenever you want 🫣.

soonyoung is very vocal in bed, I think he isn’t shy about moaning your name, boy is really whiny when you guys lovemake.

I think holding his hand is a must when you ride him, like I think it’s really important for you to hold his hand while he praises you.

I think he loves when you suck him off like when he’s all stressed & everything he just needs to you to do your work :(.

pet names are a must in bed!!, he will shower you in all the praising or degrading petnames.

he will have you in a buttplug, will tease you, he would be nasty abt it & take picture then slap your bum just saying.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! also I’m so flattered you called me a pretty princess I love you :(

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen x you #seventeen scenarios #svt smut #hoshi smut #hoshi x you #hoshi x reader #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x you #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios

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starwarsbian · 20 hours

Text

stonerboyfriend!anakin pt2

NSFW 18+ MDNI gif by @weaponizedwit

wc: 4.4k (not proofread)

a/n: if you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know <3 ídek what this is but here it is

warnings: weed, intoxicated sex, spit, oral (f!recieving), fingering, degradation, temperature play I suppose, unprotected p in v, breeding if you squint, overstimulation, biting <3

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

anakin knows you don't prefer (like) smoking joints but here you are anyway-- waiting for him to finish rolling one while you're sitting in his bedroom. you might not like smoking them but you certainly enjoy watching anakin roll them-- his fingers move smoothly like its the easiest thing in the world and he always looks at you as he licks across the paper to seal it. making you flustered seems to be his favorite pastime.

he finishes and pats beside him on the bed, signaling you to move closer and come sit by him. his hand finds your thigh and he grabs your chin to turn your head for him to give you a messy kiss. it lasts longer than you expected, his spit mixes with yours and he grins at your surprise of him biting your lip when he pulls away.

he starts to light the joint in front of you and you take it as an opportunity to complain; even though it'll piss him off and he'll call you an ungrateful fucking brat. you'd like that a lot, actually. ani has been teasing you all morning; waking you up with neck kisses, teasing you between your legs every chance he gets, acting innocent after he "accidentally" grabs your ass and now biting your lip.

"anakin, i hate them. i don't wanna smoke that, it hurts. i want the bong."

he glares at you. "did i ask? seriously. why do you always have to be an ungrateful fucking brat?"

he sees the way you press your thighs together hard as he says that and finds it incredibly amusing. he's still holding the joint in his hand and he takes the moment to say more to you.

"fuck, you like that? i can see you pressing your thighs together. i haven't been able to keep my hands off of you all day and here we are; closer than ever to letting me bury myself deep inside you and you're complaining about the way i want to smoke before." his words send shivers down your spine and a heartbeat between your legs. you don't know if you should apologize or push him further. you are an "ungrateful fucking brat", in his very own words.

"i want you now. you've been teasing all day and now i have to sit here and watch you smoke. if you'd just give me what i fucking want maybe u wouldn't act like this." you spit, hoping he catches the venom purposely coming from your mouth and makes you sorry.

"shut the fuck up. i chose this way so i can smoke while i fuck you. you're so fucking desperate for my cock that you won't give me a second to explain. get on the bed and take everything off for me besides your panties."

he's very obviously upset although you're not sure how much of it is genuine. you don't argue at all with his command and your heart pounds in anticipation. he sits and watches you undress as he starts to smoke the joint you were so eager to bitch about. you crawl onto the bed and do your best to wait patiently as he continues to take hits in front of you. he smirks and blows his exhale right into your face; it makes your eyes burn and you're about to cough just as he forces the joint into your hand.

"hit it." he orders, keeping it short and demanding. you hesitate and that makes him bring his hand down hard on the sensitive skin of your thigh. you jump and hiss at the pain even though you like it and it makes the throbbing in your underwearr even worse. you hit the joint and it makes you cough really hard just like you knew it would. the need to please anakin overcomes any self preservation you have and you force yourself into a second one before you even catch your breath.

"good girl." he says in a much softer voice as he takes it back out of your hands. he's not so concerned about wasting weed right now so he does let it keep burning in his hand as he gives you the kiss you were begging him for with your eyes. he brings biting into this one too and continues the antics down your neck. he does a little more than nip at the flesh between the small hits he takes and exhales through his nose with his mouth occupied against your skin. the smoke continues to migrate towards your face as he had planned.you gasp at the pinching sensation of your skin between his teeth just for a second and let a moan fall from your lips.

anakin pulls away and kisses further down your body until he's laying between your thighs, joint in his left hand as he wraps his arms around your thighs and lays there lazily taking a few more puffs. he holds it in his mouth for a moment so he can move your underwear to the side and use his thumb to spread your wetness further up your slit. the action is so intimate and he looks so fucking good multitasking. the smell of weed fills the room and he's still blowing the smoke towards your face. "hey, can you hold this for me?" he asks with a grin, "go ahead and hit it for me, baby,"

you take it from his hand and put it to your own mouth just as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your left thigh. you choke for a second before yelping from the pain. he does it again, closer to your core but sucks on the skin hard before you can respond to the sharp sensation of his teeth. he's using enough force you think there'll definitely be marks left tomorrow; just as he intended. he switches to the other side and digs his fingers hard into your hips when you flinch and pull away from his teeth involuntarily. when your legs are adequately marked by anakin her changes his attention to where you reallyw ant him. hendrags his tongue up between your folds in a wide stripe across your exposed and sensitive flesh. his tongue lingers around your clit for a few seconds as the smoke catches in your throat. "so pretty, baby," he says under his breath and you're not sure if he's talking to you or actively speaking to your pussy. either way it causes your face to warm and creates the urge to cover your face in embarrassment but anakin will just scold you; so you say nothing and do your best to smoothly exhale even though his tongue is gliding up and down your slit.

the sensation distracts you from the burning jay in your hand for a little too long, causing ani to bite your thigh on a place he already had and grumble something against it that sounds like "keep smoking that, you're not allowed to waste it." you nod and make eye contact with him as he dives back between your legs. you're taking the tiniest hits and trying to keep your breathing steady even though anakin's tongue is working diligently on your clit in delicious circles at the perfect pace. he's far too good at this, he'll spend hours there if you'd let him. he's switched to wet open mouth kisses against your heat and sucking on your bundle of nerves. its getting messy and you can feel wetness dripping down you and coating your thighs from contact with anakin's drenched face.

he's such a cocky asshole that he purposely goes faster or sucks harder when you're taking hits and you can feel him grin at your reactions and choking on the smoke. pressure has been building in your stomach this whole time and just when you think it can’t get any better anakin slips two fingers into you with ease. his mouth is still working in quick circles as he fucks you with his fingers so agonizingly slow. he can feel you getting closer with each movement; the way your body reacts to his touch is predictable and just as maddening as it was the first time he had you like this.

you’re still being forced to smoke even though the tightening in your stomach is becoming more intense; it’s about to snap and force your release out of you. you begin to move your hips in time with anakin’s tongue and fingers; he allows it because the following whimpers and whines are enough of a reward for him to forgive your inability to follow directions.

“so so close, ani. can i cum for you? please let me cum for you,” you plead. anakin nods from between your legs and hums in encouragement as he laps at your clit and the space around his fingers. you quickly put the joint out in the ashtray beside the bed. with permission already granted you let go of anything holding you back you lose all composure when your orgasm hits you. it floods your senses and you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes roll back. your thighs shake as you come back down; feeling anakin work you all the way through it to overstimulation that has you whining and pushing his head away.

he pulls away and kisses you; your slick still coating his lips and the taste lingering on his tongue as he slips it into your mouth. “wanna give you my cock, baby,” he says low in your ear. “can i do that?”

“fuck. yes. please.” anakin grins and says “roll over. i want you from behind.”

you don’t protest but nod towards the ashtray at the J as you quickly settle down facing the headboard with your chest against the mattress and arms folded under you to rest your head on and your ass in the air. you arch your back deeply and sway your hips a little bit, hoping to gain more of anakins attention. he’s just ripped his clothes off and stands at the side of the bed where he’s relighting the joint.

“mmm,” he hums as he takes his first hit. as he exhales he speaks and slaps your ass. “look pretty like this. want my cock so bad, huh?” he puts his naked form behind yours on the bed and presses his unoccupied hand against the arch of your back. he drags his palm up your back and into your hair where he tangles his fingers. he doesn’t pull your hair, just waits for you to answer him.

“yes. yeah i want it so bad,” you say loud enough he won’t have to ask again. he lets go of your hair and puts the joint into his mouth to hold as he uses one hand on your hip to steady himself while he uses the other to tease up and down your sex with the tip of his length before pressing into your hole.

his left hand takes the joint from his mouth and you see the smoke gather beside you from his exhale as you let out a long moan of his name. he only does a few very slow thrusts before he’s at the pace he wanted to almost lazily fuck you at while he continues to smoke.

“you’re such a fuckin slut. do you know that? god. i wish you could see the way you’re taking my cock,” he muses.

you whimper and pathetically try to push your hips closer to his; hoping he’ll thrust faster or harder. instead it earns you a hard slap on the ass as he laughs darkly. its not enough; he's still teasing and somehow has more restraint than you could ever muster during sex.

“behave,” he says through gritted teeth as he slows down even more. his cock drags against your walls so antagonizingly slow. the joint needs ashed and he takes it upon himself to do so on your back as he’s deep inside. his thumb flicks the crutch and the slightly smoldering ash falls onto your skin. it doesn’t burn per se, it’s just uncomfortably warm for a moment before it becomes pleasurable just because of the thought that he’s using you.

“fuck. you liked that, huh?,” he whispers to you as his right hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and pulls hard; forcing you into an even deeper arch and sending burning pain through your scalp. he holds you like that as he pulls you back onto him, forcing himself deeper inside of you. he stops all movement of his hips and is now just holding your hair, pulling hard in time to the pace you choose to fuck yourself at. you cant see the way he's smiling behind you at your desperation.

"just like that.. fuck yourself on my cock. fuck. so perfect like this..need you like this all the time."

you're letting every sound slip from between your lips, getting even louder when anakin praises you or lets out a moan of his own. you hear curses come from his mouth as you continue and he rushes to finish smoking. as soon as its reasonably finished he throws it into the ashtray and grabs your waist to make you sit up. he's now slotted between your legs with your back pressed against his chest as he fucks you mercilessly. you can no longer do anything but let him hold you there and force you to take it. anakin stretches you just right and he knows it; he makes it very obvious he knows no one else could ever make you feel like he can.

through his labored breathing and groans he mananges to say "don't ever think someone else could make you feel as good as i can. you were made for me, do you understand? you're fucking mine." he punctuates the last three words with harsh thrusts angled so deep in you feel it in your stomach.

“fuck, ani. ‘ts so deep,” you slur.

“oh god,” he grunts when you tighten around him. “i know, baby. want you to cum on it. cum around my cock

he bites your shoulder and holds you tighter against him as hammers up into you; knocking the air out of your lungs as you get closer to finishing.

his left hand snakes down your body to your recently neglected clit where he does fast light circles with his middle and ring finger.

“anakin.. fuck, ani. i’m gonna cum.”

“let go, c’mon,” he whispers in your ear after he removes his mouth from your skin; where you feel blood rushing to the teeth marks he’s left behind.

he feels you pulse around him as your orgasm hits you; forcing a low groan from him at the same time you moan his name. his cum paints your insides white as he finds his own orgasm. the sound of skin hitting skin fills the room as he continues to fuck you just as hard and deep until you let your head fall back against his chest and nod to signal you’re finished. anakin loosens his grip on you but is careful not to let you fall on the bed face first, incase your legs are feeling weak. your heart is still pounding and sweat coats the nape of your neck. when he gently lets you down onto the bed he soon follows suit and lays beside you on his side. he leans on his left arm and watches as you try to catch your breath. he's still staring at you hungrily, like he's far from done but he's granting you a break at the moment.

your thighs burn despite the lack of effort you had to put in and anakin is rubbing up and down them with his large hands that are surprisingly soft. you close your eyes for a moment and feel him get up from the bed; when it sinks back down you open your eyes to anakin holding a glass of water. "are you okay? drink this. i want more, let me use you more." his tone changes on the last sentence as he stares into your eyes, making your face warm. you take the water and do as anakin told you before nodding and handing the empty glass back to him. he grins and immediately brings his body back over top of yours as he crashes his lips into yours. its urgent and wet, spit mixing together and teeth threatening to slam into each other as he holds himself up. within seconds anakin has his tongue dragging across your bottom lip and forcing its way into your mouth where he adamantly explores your mouth with his right hand wrapped around your throat lightly.

anakin pulls away and tightens his grip on your neck while you stare at him with wide, watery eyes. "open your mouth," he orders. you drop your jaw open and wait for his next move. he smirks and slowly lets a trail of his own spit fall into your open mouth. it lands on your tongue and he watches, delighted, as you swallow it without being asked and stick your tongue out to show him that its gone. "good fucking girl. again."

you open your mouth again eagerly but this time he spits more aggressively onto your tongue, some landing on your face at the same time. you swallow it greedily and thank him. "thank you, ani." he hums in approval and brings his lips back to yours. this time he's nipping at your bottom lip over and over, sucking and biting to make it flushed and swollen. he bites particularly hard and a metallic taste floods into your mouth and his as he swipes his tongue across the wound and moans at the taste and your willingness to be hurt by him. when he pulls away he drags his thumb across the stinging line he's created with his teeth; making you flinch and squeeze your thighs together when the sensation starts to impact the need growing between your legs.

anakin thrives off your willingness to be used and owned by him; he loves to tell you. he'll go on rants about it while he's fucking you stupid. that's his plan when he presses his thigh against your core and moves it slowly back and forth while you try to force your hips down and get more friction. "such a whore for me. i own your body, don't i? own your little cunt and every other part of you. all mine to use up and ruin," he growls into your ear. his hot breath fans against your throat as he waits for an answer that you're purposely withholding just to be a brat.

he slaps you with no warning as he falls onto the bed beside you. "fucking answer me, bitch. i know what you're doing and if you wanted me to hurt you you should've just said so. pathetic, willing to upset me just so i take out my frustration on you." you whine at his words and not frantically, trying to spit out words before he decides proper punishment would mean giving you nothing you want. "yes, yes yes, you own my body. own all of me. 'm all yours, anakin. use me. hurt me. please, oh my god."

he's pleased by your effort and decides he's going to put your words to the test. "yeah? okay, baby lets see if you mean it." you swallow harshly and nod to him, eager to be his good girl. "spread your legs, slut."

you follow the command and your hands start to shake as his own trace the curves of your body; pausing to pinch each nipple excessively hard, earning a yelp from you. his mouth finds each bud on its own time and he soothes the pain with soft movements of his tongue. when he's satisfied he continues on his journey down your body to the hole he owns. he marvels at the white mess his cum has made dripping out of you and reaches out to push some back into you with his index finger, earning a broken moan from you due to the lingering sensitivity.

his finger rubs against your achingly sensitive walls before he slips another in and moves them around; reading your body like a book as he pays attention to every hitch of your breath and inhale through your teeth. "gonna put my cock back in here..looks like she needs it. i think she needs a little more love from ani, doesn't she?"

you whine helplessly but don't stop him as he gets to his knees and pulls your body towards his, forcing your ass to rest on his legs while he lines up with you. you expect him to ease inside slowly but he doesn't, he shoves himself inside harshly and moans as your hole tightens in protest. any pain should make you want to stop but instead it makes you need him more and grind your body against him, making his length nudge at the furthest part he can reach inside. despite your body's involuntary reaction, anakin's intrusion is welcomed by the thoroughly prepared hole that's filled with a mixture of his seed and your slick. as his pace increases, obscene sounds come from the area between you.

his stamina is unmatched as he slides in and out with ease; no resistance from your body stops his intrusion. over and over again he plows into you with little to no regard to your pleasure although he knows you like it like this. anakin ruts into your cunt and praises you for taking it so well. his head is thrown back in bliss as you watch his Adams apple bob up and down in his throat in between heavy breaths and attempts to steady himself. he pulls his attention to the movement between your thighs and spits on your pussy. he quickly presses two fingers against your clit and moves in delicious circles that make white hot sparks fall through your body. it wasn't necessary but fuck it was hot and anakin just couldn't help himself. he can feel himself twitching inside you and is struggling to hang on to the ledge keeping him from his impending climax. he doesn't need to warn you or ask permission but he does anyway, just because he wants to hear you say it this time.

“you’re gonna cum for me, baby. and then i can wanna cum in you, beg for it.”

"ani, cum in me. fill me up. pump me full. come on, baby, please," you beg of him. his thrusts grow more irratic and messy as he loses himself in the feeling of your wet hole greedily swallowing every inch of him. it still feels mind numbingly good with his fingers working over your bud and with his newly given permission you’re intensely motivated to finish for him. you tighten around his cock as you meet your high. you slur his name over and over again as he wrecks you in the effort of reaching his own high.

“fuck,” he moans followed by your name as he fills you up. he bottoms out and holds you close to him as his cock empties into you.

he pulls out and immediately repositions himself to be between your legs where his mouth greedily laps at the mess you’ve both created between your sensitive folds. he holds your legs apart despite any attempts you make to close them around his head and continues his assault on your core. his tongue slides down to your sopping hole that’s leaking a mix of cum and some of his spit. he gathers the fluids on his tongue each time it dips into you and swallows it happily. he laps at and teases your aching hole desperate to get every drop he can out of you. from between your legs you hear “just one more for me, okay?”

before you can even respond his tongue is circling your clit devastatingly slow, teasing the bundle of nerves. you’re extremely sensitive from the three? orgasms he’s already caused but wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. he sucks the bud into his mouth and rubs his tongue on the underside in time with suckling at a pressure that drives you crazy. it’s somehow too much and not enough as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer. he allows it because the sounds you’re making for him are drowning out any dominant reasoning he could come up with.

anakin flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it, allowing you to set the pace and take what you want from him. with control over sensation your thighs are soon shaking and it’s hard to control the movements of your hips or his head steadily.

“ani, take care of me,” you plead while you look into his glassy blue eyes. he doesn’t respond but takes initiative to eat you as sloppy and wet as he’d like to to get you to finish. his lips and tongue caress sensitive skin while he expertly pulls you to the edge with his hands gripping your legs so hard you’ll likely have bruises tomorrow from the tips of his fingers pressing so hard into your flesh. with a few more flicks of his tongue against you you’re scrambling to grab the sheets with the hand that’s not pulling on his hair. when he’s sure you’re finished and he’s extracted every bit of pleasure you could get from this orgasm he slows down for a few seconds and pulls away completely. he presses a few kisses against your slit and rests his head against your leg.

your breathing is heavy and the room is spinning as you try to ground yourself in anakin’s touch. he’s grinning, proud of himself as always. “see what happens when you listen to me. when you’re not an ungrateful fucking brat.” he raises his eyebrows before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it for a moment before he crawls up to lie by your side. he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and each cheek before he lightly grasps your chin and pulls you in for a kiss that conveys love even though he just ruined you like he feels nothing for you at all.

#anakin skywalker smut #sam monroe smut #hayden christensen smut #sam monroe x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #tw weed #stoner!anakin #cam writes ᡣ𐭩 #anakin skywalker x you

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aphrodisiaexotica · 20 hours

Text

euphoria.

parring: weed!dealer!colby brock x afab!reader

warnings: language, pet names: princess, babe. smoking, female oral receiving, dry humping, unprotected sex, dirty talk, choking, spit swallowing, dacryphilia, degrading kink if you squint, praise kink.

synopsis: having a hot dealer has its perks.

it’s always known you should never fall for your dealer. no matter how strong that feeling of desire, or connection is.

maybe it was stupid of me.

but i don’t regret it.

“Y/N, this is colby.” one of my friends; Jake. introduced me to this guy dressed in all black. i give him a small smile and he nods his head to me, as he sips his drink. “he’s got what you want.” Jake tapped my shoulder before waving off to probably where ever Johnnie was.

i took a sip of my punch before speaking to colby. “you sell right?” i try to raise my voice enough so he could hear me. he tilted his head leaning in to hear me. “yeah.” he nodded. “whatcha want?” he shifted his body slightly towards me, as people walked by us.

he motioned for me to follow him.

it felt a little odd to follow a random hot guy you meet at a party. but i was desperate okay?

i nod, following close behind him as we make our way outside to his car. “just get in the front, i got my shit in the back.”

i slide into the passenger seat. his car was way nicer than i expected. really clean too. it even smelled good; a mix of cedar wood and weed.

i watch colby as he subtly grabs something from his trunk and opens the driver side door. he slid into the seat and held a quarter of weed. “this good?” he shifted in his seat, making his legs spread wider.

my eyes shifted to his manspreading but blinked the thought out of my head, before nodding. “mhm.” i tried not to seem to excited but with the way he smiled at me made me think otherwise.

“just give me 35.” my head tilted at his words. “i have 45 on me, i can pay full.” colby laughed. “nah, princess. 35. i don’t need your money. just take it.” he places the weed baggie in my lap.

i took out 40 and tucked it in his cup holders. “wanna smoke?” i grinned at him holding up the baggie. colby rolled his eyes and smiled.

“you’re lucky i got papers.” he reached over my legs and opened the glove box taking out his raw wraps. i didn’t miss how his hand slightly grazed over my knee when he did so. “no filter though.” i shrugged and handed him the weed.

soon after he rolled up the joint, we were already a few puffs in and i started to get giggly. i smiled at him hazily. “you’re pretty, y’know.” colby blurted out after blowing the smoke in my face.

i felt my face bloom with redness.

i was never good with compliments.

i put my hand up over my smile and a giggle. “psh, thank you.” colby smiled and shifts forward to move my hand away from my mouth to see my smile.

my real smile.

“don’t hide.” colby still remained close to me. i didn’t realize how close he was to me till he turned to put the joint down, on the ashtray he had put on the dashboard.

i licked my lips, in a daze about everything that had to do with how handsome colby was looking right now.

maybe it was the weed, or the lack of intimacy. but i needed him.

as soon as he turned his face back to mine, i grabbed his face and pulled him in to meet my lips.

i kissed him with fire and neediness. his tongue making rounds around mine. “get over here.” he mumbled between kisses, tugging me over the center console and onto his lap.

his dick loud and proud as i slid into his lap. “fuck..” i whimpered feeling him grind up into me. nothing but my underwear between us, due to my dress.

“yeah? you like that?” he smirked doing it again, this time bumping my clit when he did it. “fuck i need to be inside you.” colby grunted pushing me back into the back seats, my boobs slipping out slightly. He bit his lip watching my chest bounce.

“fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” he smiled down at me, placing his jean clad thighs underneath my spread legs, giving him a clear view of my red laced thong; that was soaked in my sweet juice.

i blushed at his moving hands, that worked their way down my hips and under my dress. “can i touch you, babe?” he looked up at me with red eyes and dilated pupils. i eagerly nodded at him my hips shifting up to help him tug off my panties, that were now causing me uncomfortability.

“hm?” he slid his finger between my folds slightly pulling down my thong, before snapping it back against my clit; making me cry out. “please fuck me.” i tugged off my thong on my own throwing it behind me; it landing towards the back window.

anyone that walked by could easily see us. but at this point..

colby smirked practically ripping off his belt, and shoving down his pants; barely making it past the second button on his jeans. “oh trust me, princess. i’m gonna do more than that.” he pulled my hips up, sliding his girth into me without a warning, in one push. “h-holy fuck!” i arched my back, my hands flying to the window and his shoulder.

he chuckled, sliding out of me before sliding right back in. “fuck.. you’re still so tight for me.” he bent down to kiss my jaw, sloppy kisses trailing down my chest to my boobs.

i whimpered feeling his dick kiss my spongey sweet spot. he looked up at my through his lashes, still sucking and kissing on my slightly exposed breast. “making me feel so good, babe.”

i looked down at him, my hand snaking around his neck and into his hair. he smirked, noticing how i clinched around him. his pace speeding up; his beautiful tip hitting my g spot every time. colby lifted his head, wrapping his hand around my throat, slightly pulling me up to meet his hips.

“oh fu-fuck!” a broken moan slips from my horse throat. the pleasure being almost too much for me. he took that as a sign to go harder, he pulled my face closer to his, gripping my jaw tightly, making my mouth open slightly.

colby spit on my tongue, making my eyes roll and back arch. i shut my mouth swallowing immediately. “fuck.” he grunted. “you’re such a fucking slut for me. i fuckin’ love it.” his hips slamming into me making my head hit the door.

the pleasure being too much for me, i didn’t even feel it. “sh-shiitttt… m’ gonna cum!” i gasped, clawing at his back, tears streaming down my face, colby kissed my cheek, the tip of his tongue sliding over my salty tears. “sh, t’s okay…” he whispered gently. his finger circling my clit, “fuckin’ cum for me, princess. need it.” he smiled up at me, studying my face as i came.

my wetness, spraying on his backseats, and his knees when colby pulled out, cumming on my lower stomach. “shit..” he panted. “you gotta keep buying from me.”

#colby brock smut #sam and colby smut #sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock headcannons #colby x reader #sam golbach #sam goldbach smut

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moremousewrites · 1 day

Text

Impero Tibi

Pairing: Gale/F!Reader

Summary: Gale is no stranger to experimentation, especially when it involves you and lovemaking. He's just a bit hesitant about the ethical boundaries surrounding the newest experiment you've brought to his attention. However, you think it's worth trying at least once. Gale finds himself agreeing with you.

Tags: reader referred to as "tav", SOMNOPHILIA, DUBCON, discussions of consent, smut, squirting, fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, inappropriate use of sleep spell

PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING

Gale Dekarios adored you. He never shied away from lavishing you with affection (permitting Tara was out of sight), or granting you whatever wishes you had within reason. And while what you were suggesting was completely within reason, Gale was hesitant to fulfill your request.

“Oh please Gale, I've always wanted to try it” you begged him. Gale was very comfortable using magic in the bedroom, and very proficient. You had trusted him with your life on countless occasions, and now you would trust him with your body.

“I'm still not sure. It's not a matter of the spell, really. It's a matter of consent. You can't verbalize if something is too painful or uncomfortable” he explained, taking your hands in his and giving a reassuring squeeze.

You looked up at him through your lashes though Gale knew this look was anything but innocent. “That's kinda why I wanna try it,” you moved to straddle his lap, taking his face in your hands and causing a considerable blush to rise to his cheeks. “If I'm asleep, you could do whatever you want to me, no restrictions. Then I'd wake up and never know the difference” you curled a lock of his hair around your finger as you spoke. The light touch brought a shiver to Gale's neck.

“And if I don't enjoy it?” He asked, though his body language suggested that he was already enjoying the thought of it.

You shifted in his lap, settling onto his bulge that was already stiffening for you. “Then you stop and we never have to do it again” you looked in his eyes, your tone became much more serious. “If you're uncomfortable with it we don't have to try. I don't want to put you in a position you don't want to be in” you said, looking to him for confirmation.

Gale considered the idea for a moment, weighing everything you had said, then pressed his lips against yours. He intended for the kiss to be soft, inviting. But his body craved yours, his lips sought yours hungrily, opening to slip his tongue in your mouth which you eagerly permitted. Gale's hands firmly grabbed your hips, rolling them on his own while you sucked his tongue. He moaned, loudly at the action, and you pulled away to see him, a needy, flushed mess beneath you.

“So I take it that's a yes?” You teased, wiping a stray line of spit from his lower lip with your thumb.

Gale nodded. “Are you ready?” He asked through quickened breaths. You nodded, excitedly. Gale ran his fingers through your hair, cradling your face with his palm and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Impero tibi”

Your body went limp in his arms, falling onto his chest as sleep took you. A small spark of panic rose in Gale's chest as he held you. He had complete agency over you now, and you had given him the right to do whatever he wished to your body in this state. He laid you down on the bed, your chest falling and rising with your breath. You looked so peaceful.

Gale anxiously undid your clothes, slowly peeling them away until you were left in your smallclothes and your bra. Pushing your legs apart to gain better access, he noticed the damp spot on your underwear. He pressed his fingers against your heat and your hips stirred in response. Even in deep sleep you craved his touch and the reaction sent blood rushing to Gale's cock. He ran his fingers over your damp panties, pressing slow circles against you as your hips involuntarily rolled into his hand.

Your breaths were growing heavier under his touch, breasts rising as your body writhed. Gale palmed a breast and a low, carnal moan escaped from deep within you. It was unlike anything he'd heard from you before. In your unconscious state, you couldn't restrain yourself. Any inhibitions you had about yourself during sex, though they were most likely subconscious, were completely gone. Whatever small part of Gale that might have been disappointed you were holding yourself back for his sake was completely dwarfed by his complete awe of you now.

He lifted your bra to expose your breasts, and took your pert nipple in his mouth. His fingers moved faster, more urgently as he sucked away at your nipple, occasionally suckling the underside of your breast. Your abdomen tightened, your back arched and you let out a pinched cry as you unraveled in Gale's touch. You soaked your smallclothes, drenching them with your come.

Gale pulled away to look at you. He couldn't believe how much come you'd produced. Did you just squirt? He lowered himself to press his nose against you, smelling your soaked panties. In the time you'd been together, he'd brought you to orgasm countless times, but squirting was a rare occasion. And he'd grown very familiar with the different smells your orgasmic substances produced. You absolutely squirted in your panties for him.

Pressing his tongue against you, he tasted yourself through the fabric. You were heavenly. He began sucking against the fabric, tonguing at the peak where your clit hid, and you whined above him. His hips ground into the mattress, trying to relieve some of the pressure that was building.

Going into this experiment, Gale worried it would be entirely too self indulgent on his part. He was a selfless lover, more interested in your pleasure than his own. He was pleasantly surprised to see he could not only bring you to orgasm, but such an uninhibited one. And he was more surprised how badly he wanted to take that pleasure from you, pulling as many of those sweet moans from you as he could.

Unable to resist your taste, Gale pulled aside your underwear and froze in awe. You were dripping. Your lips and clit were swollen and red from the arousal and friction of your last orgasm. And every so often, your pussy would pulse under the cool air of the room, practically begging for attention- for Gale.

“Gods above” he groaned at the sight of you. Gale placed your thighs on his shoulders, the new angle of your hips allowed for better access. He licked a long stripe up your slit, wetness gathering on his tongue. He moaned at the flavor and shoved his tongue further into your hole to taste more. His nose bumped against your clit as he began fucking you with his tongue, causing more little whines to spill out. But they weren't enough, he needed you to come again. He dragged his tongue upwards, circling your clit and sucking at practiced intervals. He lapped at you until you gushed for him again, curling your toes.

Gale dropped one of your thighs and pushed a finger into you. Your hole greedily took him as he pumped into you. He pushed in another, pressing upward as he sucked your clit. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with a maddening passion that had your cunt clenching around him. Again, he felt your body tense, your skin covered in goosebumps as you moaned his name in your sleep.

“Gale…” it nearly stopped him in his tracks, that beautiful sound. Husky and deep from slumber. But in the next moment Gale felt the fruits of his labours drench his face in one forceful climax.

He thought he might come in that instant. Gale lowered your hips, sitting up on his knees and taking deep breaths. You were stunning. Your skin was flushed, breasts peeking from beneath the bra he didn't bother to place back on you. Your lower half was soaked in your own come. Gale's face was dripping with it, too. His beard was sufficiently drenched in your come, something he hoped would linger long after he bathed.

Gale pulled your smallclothes off and tossed them aside with a light ‘splat’ as they hit the floor. He pushed his own pants down and sighed as his cock sprung free. There was a moment of hesitation, he considered waking you up for this. But this was what you wanted. And from the way his cock was weeping, he couldn't deny his wants anymore either.

Gale lined himself with your hole. You were so thoroughly soaked, he only needed to push and you eagerly pulled him in. Gale let out a choked sob at the feeling of you finally wrapped around him.

Your brows furrowed. The spell would be wearing off soon. Gale was determined to bring you to orgasm one more time as he thrusted into you desperately. The sound of skin hitting wet skin resounded within the room as he drove his cock into you, snapping his hips upwards to hit the spot that always made you melt.

Gale threw your legs onto his shoulders once more, leaning into you as he fucked your body into the mattress. He felt his own balls tighten, and your walls fluttering. You were both getting close.

He couldn't help himself from moaning your name as he rode closer and closer to euphoria. “Tav, Tav, oh Gods. Please, Tav…” he didn't even know what he was begging for, he just needed to say something.

As he felt you approaching your end, your eyes fluttered open. “Gale…” you moaned again.

“Tav, please I need you to-” he begged and the pleasure of his fucking mixed with the clarity of your awakened state barreled into you. A scream ripped itself from you so violently as your cunt gripped him like a vice.

Gale spilled himself within you, crying out in pleasure as he did.

You both stayed still for a while, your legs falling to his sides. Gale kissed your forehead and begrudgingly pulled himself off of you to lie at your side.

“I hope I didn't ruin it,” you finally broke the silence. Gale looked at you incredulously. “Waking up early, I mean” you explained.

Gale wiped the sweat off of your brow and held your face. “Tav, you were perfect. Absolutely perfect” he sighed. “If anything it was my fault. I saw the spell wearing off and I didn't want to stop”

You smiled at him “so you did like it?” You asked.

“Oh yes” Gale said, enraptured with you. “More than that, I'm quite taken with the practice. Though you rather enjoyed it, yourself” he said pointing to the wet spot left on the sheets.

Your face went bright red. “That was me?!” You shifted to inspect the mess and Gale pulled you onto him.

He kissed your neck as you nuzzled into him. “Did you have a nice rest, at least?” He asked you, running his hands against your thighs.

“I did, actually. I feel surprisingly awake” you shifted your hips and felt that Gale was hard again, already. You looked at him and raised a brow which he returned with a coy grin of his own.

“Good, you'll need your energy” he leaned forward and kissed you. “Again?” He asked.

You nodded “Again”

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale/tav #gale/reader #gale x reader #dubcon #cw somnophilia

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cinnasluttiny · 2 days

Text

between a rock and a...hard place?

pairing: scaramouche x childe

summary: scaramouche gets stuck in a window, childe has an active imagination and inappropriately creative ways of getting him unstuck.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: top childe/bottom scara, smut, crack, stuck sex, barebacking, creampie, anal fingering, ass play in general, rimming, spit as lube, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, mean childe, rough sex, premature ejaculation, virgin scara

a/n: uploading all of my fics from ao3 onto tumblr is so tedious, but if u enjoyed pls leave a like. luv yewww.

"Hello?”

Childe sounds confused on the crackly opposite end of the phone call when he picks up, probably lost as to why Scaramouche of all people would be calling him, especially while he was in the middle of a shift of all times. Despite being roommates, the raven haired man had never onced phoned Childe, he’d rather have keeled over, if he’s honest. It wasn’t something they did , not for a lack of Childe’s trying, anyway.

Scaramouche did his best throughout their living together to ignore the overly friendly ginger's and his naturally affectionate nature, and he did well, for the most part. He, frankly, found the man’s cheerful persona insufferable; annoying.

But, with his waist lodged between the window sill and the window itself, effectively pinning him stuck despite his writhing in an attempt to free his body from the bent position, he figured he didn’t have much of a choice.

It was ridiculous, really, how he’d ended up in the position to begin with. One minute he’s dusting the window sill, rickety pane lodged open like usual to allow for fresh air, and the next, with a slip of his house shoes, he tumbles forward and effectively jolts the pane from its position; of course the shabby ass window had decided to jam itself in place at that moment, pinned against his lower back. He’s at least a little relieved the window wasn’t faced toward the front of the house, he could only handle so much embarrassment.

He curses his best friend Kazuha for leaving on that school trip right about now, huffs at the horrible timing, and Signora hadn’t answered the generous amount of calls he’d blew her phone up with. Whore. In short, he had no one else to call and was left with no choice but to dial the last person he’d wanted to see him in this position.

It was out of sheer desperation that he’d alerted Siri to dial the ginger’s phone, now he could only hope the fucker wouldn’t hold the ridiculousness of the situation over his head. He would, Scara just knew.

“Yeah, so-” Scaramouche winces when his rib grinds particularly roughly against the wood of the sill. “Is there any way you could…come home right now?”

Childe sounds breathless on the other end, there’s a loud thud that sounds from Scara’s phone, likely the sound of the ginger moving boxes in the warehouse he’d worked in.

“What for?”

Scaramouche curls his lip in annoyance. “Just- does that matter?”

A scoffed laugh sounds through the other end, “Well yeah. I can’t exactly just up and leave my job, Kuni.”

The raven sniffs, displeased at the nickname. “Don’t call me that- Look I know you can’t, but this is kinda-” He wiggles, “An emergency. ”

At that, Childe sounds much more worried when he speaks again. “Is everything okay? ”

Ah, that got him. “No, you fuckhead. I’m-” His eyes close in embarrassment. “I’m stuck.”

It’s quiet for a moment, like Childe is trying to figure out what he means. “Stuck how? ”

“Stuck like stuck you fucking moron. What else could that mean?”

Childe ignores his curses. “Like, on a roof or some shit? Look, Scara, I know you like cats and everything but even this is too far for yo-”

Scaramouche’s eyes roll and he sneers toward his phone, glares at the ginger’s contact picture. It’s a dopey smiling selfie of Tartaglia next to a very discontent Scaramouche, a picture the ginger uploaded to his contact on his own on the one off chance he’d been able to snatch up Scaramouche’s phone, and the brunette found himself hesitant to delete it, for some reason. Whatever. The picture grates the raven’s nerves about now.

“In a window, asshole. I’m stuck in a window.”

Childe splutters an incredulous laugh. “Well, shit. How did you manage that one? How did you even manage to call? ”

Damn, the man asks a lot of questions. He picked a bad time to be curious. “I was cleaning, something you’d know nothing about, and I fell, and Siri exists, y’know- can you just come home?” Scaramouche growls in response.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say this was your attempt at roleplay, Scara.” Nice one, Childe. The fucker sounds as smug as he could be, and Scara hisses. Leave it to him to have sex on his mind on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Fuck off, you perv!” Childe simply laughs in response.

There’s more shuffling on the other end, and when Childe speaks once again, he sounds further away, like he’d placed his phone down somewhere. There’s a bead of sweat forming on Scaramouche’s temple, he exhales at the discomfort in his gut.

“Did you try opening it?”

Scaramouche was going to punch the fucker in the face.

He seethes. “No, Childe. I called you because I hadn’t thought of that one. Were you born this stupid or was that just a lifestyle choice?”

Childe huffs his laughter on the other end. “Yeah, take your anger out on me, princess. You’re still the one who got stuck in a window like a moron.”

The raven wriggles in rage, “You bit-“

“Okay, okay.” Childe interrupts, picking his phone up once again. “Let me go tell my boss, I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Try not to have too much fun, yeah?”

It does little to relieve the brunette, seeing as that wasn’t a very clear prediction of time, but he sighs out in annoyance anyway.

“Whatever. Just hurry the fuck up.”

The line disconnects, and Scaramouche groans in relief at the fact he was finally going to be freed from this predicament, then humiliation when he remembers just who was about to help him. He glances back at his ass through the clear glass, eyes widening at the teeny lounge shorts he was wearing, bent over he was most likely…uncomfortably exposed. Oh. He’d forgotten about that part.

“Motherfucker.”

The front door slams shut, jolting Scaramouche from his pity party and he wriggles underneath the window pane in relief, desperate to free his poor tummy from the torture of the sill being lodged against it.

Rapid footsteps shuffle along the floorboards, doors opening and closing distantly in search of the stuck man.

“Scara?” Childe calls out throughout the otherwise empty house.

“In the game room.” He shouts back.

There’s hurried footsteps approaching the room, then the door swings open and Scaramouche screws his eyes shut tightly when he remembers just how lewd this must look. Tiny shorts, bent over, ass facing the door.

And Childe must think so too, if his sudden, uncharacteristic silence was any indication.

Really, Scaramouche’s luck was abysmal.

“Don’t just stand there, asshole.”

When Scara cranes his neck to toss an irritated look behind him, he can faintly see Childe’s widened eyes, and he huffs in mortification when he finds the eyes are very much gawking at his overly exposed asscheeks, and he seems in no particular hurry to help the stuck man.

“Fuck, Kuni. You look straight out of a porno.” Childe starts, amused.

“I fucking know that, just get me out of here.”

Childe tentatively moves toward Scara’s stuck form, and Scara can practically feel Childe’s body heat scalding the backs of his bare thighs when he approaches.

“How do I-“ Childe begins, scratching the suddenly very flushed skin of his neck. Scara wriggles, Childe watches the movement with a sudden rapt attention. His brow quirks at the sight.

“Just, try to open the window?”

Childe clears his throat.

He reaches forward in an attempt to shove the aged wood upwards, and Scaramouche tries not to flush at the way Childe’s groin presses up against his rear absentmindedly. The fucker probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

A grunt leaves the ginger when the wood doesn’t budge at the force.

“Damn, it really is stuck.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “They should give you a Nobel prize, Einstein.”

Childe laughs at that, but it comes out tensed he looks down, he realises with a sudden flush of heat just how close his…dick is to the raven’s ass. His brows furrow when he realises Scara hadn’t cursed him about it, like he usually would if the ginger drifted too close to his personal space. Huh.

“How about I try to pull you out?” He offers to distract himself from the very enticing sight before him.

Scara nods, inhales sharply when he feels the ginger’s gloved hands place themselves on his waist. He tries desperately to ignore how large they are in comparison to his own petite torso. The man’s fingertips practically fucking touched. He shakes the lewd tights from his mind when Childe speaks.

“Ready?” Childe prompts, and when Scara spits a yeah, whatever in response, Childe yanks the smaller man backwards with a shocking amount of force.

“Ow, fuck-!” Scara yelps when he doesn’t budge, when his torso knocks uncomfortably against the small opening of the window.

“Shit, I’m sorry-“ Childe soothes, panicked, palming the fleshiness of Scaramouche’s love handles absentmindedly in his apology. But Scara can’t seem to shake the contact, gentle yet firm.

“Bastard, that hurt.” He wants out. Wants out bad. But with the diligent massaging of his flesh, he finds himself... Oh. He flushes in mortification.

“I know, Kuni. Um…how about we-” Childe wracks his brain for an idea.

It’s quickly lost when he looks down again and finds that…the younger man is shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.

“Are you…” Childe mutters when one of the smaller man's thighs presses against the other, and Scaramouche whines in embarrassment.

“No! Just- shut up.”

But Childe isn’t listening, that part of his brain suddenly entirely flooding with horniness at a magnitude so great it makes his head spin. He can feel his dick swell in his pants when he sees the milkiness of Scaramouche’s thighs rubbing together in unmistakable arousal. The raven was getting off on this.

And suddenly all the seemingly hopeless advances Childe has made toward Scaramouche in the past flutter into his memory.

“You like this.”

Scaramouche’s head hangs low between his shoulder blades in shame, but why does it make him so… tingly? He really needed help if Childe was turning him on. What the fuck?

“No I don’t! I just…get me out.” He begs, weakly, no real bite to his words. Not like usual.

Childe’s palms once again find themselves on Scaramouche’s body, but this time, they’re palming the fleshiness of Scaramouche’s pert ass. Completely unabashed and confident in the way they massage the muscle.

The latter squeaks, jolting away from the contact in shock.

“Childe, you sick freak-“

The ginger raises a palm and gently lands a smack against the raven's left cheek. It jiggles delightfully.

The sound Scaramouche lets out is sinful. They both freeze at the moan, Childe entirely giddy at the newfound revelation and Scaramouche perfectively humiliated that he’d let himself get turned on by a fucking overgrown ginger twink.

“You do like it.” Childe hums, like he was testing a hypothesis that was just proven true. Like a cat that caught the canary, he was far too pleased for Scaramouche’s liking.

Scaramouche sinks his teeth into his lower lip.

“Shut up.”

“Gonna be honest here, Kuni,”

Scaramouche doesn’t have the fight in him to curse the usage of the god awful nickname. Instead, his breath hitches when the ginger grinds his clothed hips into Scaramouche’s equally clothed ass. There’s an unmistakable hardness that prods against him. His mouth runs dry. At least he could note the man wasn’t small…

“This is fulfilling like every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”

Scaramouche flushes. He’s breathless when he responds.

“You would have fantasies about your roommate you fucking porn addict.”

Childe huffs, amused, with a confident roll of his hips.

“You haven’t thought about me before, Kuni?”

And, to be honest, he had . In the very back, secluded corners of Scaramouche’s mind, he could admit it. Childe was hot, for a lanky ginger who talked far more than was necessary, anyway. And if he’d thought about it, on any off chance he could get at the thought of the himbo ploughing into him with his big, stupid cock, it wasn’t anyone’s business but his and his right hand’s.

But he groans when the roughness of Childe’s hips grind against his clothed entrance.

“Fuck-“

Childe sucks his teeth. “Tell me.”

Scaramouche exhales, practically panting at the way his dick pushes against the tightened material of his shorts.

“Yeah. I have, what about it?” He bites.

Childe sounds delighted, yet unsurprised when he pulls back, swiping his gloved palms up the delicate skin of Scaramouche’s inner thighs. Dangerously close to the hardness.

“Yeah? What do you think about?”

He sounds like he could bust at any moment, like some horny teenager feeling someone up for the first time, it very nearly makes Scaramouche laugh. If only he wasn’t in the same boat.

Scaramouche juts his ass backwards, as best as he can from his fixed position that is, to grind against the taller man’s hardness in retaliation. When he hears Childe’s breath hitch, his brows furrow in just as much arousal.

“Think about-“ He licks his lips. Fine.

Childe massages, prods, squeezes, grinds. Encouraging Scaramouche to continue and give in.

“You, inside me. You’re so big it’d probably hit so deep.” He lets himself be honest, and Childe purrs in appreciation.

Hands leave their position of massaging his nether cheeks to toy with the hem of his lounge shorts, a quiet permission. It’s sweet. Scaramouche spreads his legs in his consent.

“Think about me fucking you, huh?”

Scaramouche groans when Childe yanks the lilac fabric of his shorts down, and his very bare ass is suddenly on display for the ginger to gaze freely. And apparently he doesn’t disappoint.

“God, this ass is fucking crazy.”

Scaramouche jolts when Childe thwacks the flesh once more, this time with much more intent than before. He wiggles.

“Then what do you think about?” He mutters to Childe, curious.

Childe hums, the hands leave for a moment as he undoes his gloves with the sharp sound of velcro, tossing the fabric somewhere forgotten, and Scaramouche keens inwardly at the warm flesh against him when the hands return their harsh kneading.

“Think about you all spread out for me, writhing,” Scaramouche pants when Childe’s thumb very nearly swipes against his rim.

“Think about eating you out ‘till you’re all shakey, fucking you open on my cock so good you can’t even think about being a brat. ”

His hand stings ever more intensely now that his gloves are removed, and Scaramouche hisses at the contact, he feels his flesh blossom and tingle.

“Fucking perv.” Scaramouche whines. “Do something already.”

And Childe wastes no time then, dropping to his knees behind Scara’s bent figure and ogling the pink pucker nestled between the raven’s cheeks. It wasn’t what Scaramouche was expecting, but he can’t say he hates it.

“Want my mouth?”

Scaramouche growls at that, “Obviously.”

But when Childe doesn’t immediately give him what he wants, he lets out a frustrated whine. Why’d Childe have to pick now off all times to be his usual insufferable self?

“Can you ask me nicely?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Scaramouche huffs out a laugh. Yeah right.

A tsk leaves the ginger, who removes his hands entirely.

“Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good bitch right here?”

Scaramouche’s nails scratch against the wooden sill, patience thinning. He didn’t appreciate that one, and Childe could tell.

“Fuck off.”

Childe’s amused quirk of his lips widens, he decides to prod that bruise.

“Ask me nicely to eat you out or I’ll fucking leave you here.”

It’s hardly an empty threat, Childe could be a sadistic ass when he wanted to be, Scaramouche swallows.

“You wouldn’t.” His voice wavers.

When Childe cocks his head, entirely ready to rise to his feet and abandon the raven altogether, Scaramouche wriggles in desperation. Good dammit, fine.

“Fuck okay, please.”

God, he was pathetic. All worked up over having his ass on display, over a few touches.

“Better than that.”

A whine. “Please, I want your mouth, want you so bad, plea-“

Childe, thankfully relents, planting his palm on each cheek and spreading the flesh to present Scaramouche’s hole for his eager mouth. Then he licks a fat stripe up the fluttering entrance without so much as a god damn warning.

Scaramouche turns to fucking jelly at the silkiness of the tongue.

“Unh-!”

He feels disgusting, it feels obscene and he can't help the way his hips jolt back at the sensation of the warm tongue swiping itself across his entrance. It’s entirely foreign, he’s never had anyone do this to him before, never wanted anyone as bad as this. It’s a confusing pleasure.

“What the fu-“

His brows furrow when the tongue wiggles against him.

Childe hums, and Scaramouche’s eyes cross at the vibration that tingles against his nether region. It makes his balls tighten.

Lips leave him with a wet pop, and a thumb prods against the pucker.

“You moan like a whore.” And then Childe presses the digit forward to breach Scaramouche’s walls without prep, and the latter mewls out in shock.

“Fucking- easy Childe!”

But Childe doesn’t listen, he’s good at that it seems, and he prods around to loosen the brunette’s tightened muscles.

“You’re so tight, Kuni,” He observes, breath hot against the backs of Scaramouche’s thighs.

“No one ever fuck you here before?”

Scaramouche sighs out at the intense feeling, he’s hardly able to adjust before Childe is nudging in another finger alongside the first, like he can’t wait to break Scaramouche open for the first time.

“No, but I- fu- ah! I’ve done it…myself before.” He admits, mind fuzzy with the pleasure.

Childe is so divinely skilled with his fingers, they’re long compared to Scaramouche’s own and they wildly out perform them, too.

“You fuck yourself on your fingers and you’re still this tight?” Childe quips, fascinated. “Your fingers just don’t feel like this, do they? They’re too short to give you what you really need.”

Scaramouche pants. “And what? you think I n- need you?”

The ginger doesn’t answer, it floods Scaramouche’s tummy with nerves.

Scaramouche pants when Childe leans forward to spit on the scissoring digits, then his mouth descends lower, and his tongue swipes against Scaramouche’s sack. It’s embarrassing, how Scaramouche tightens around Childe’s fingers, and he rises to his tiptoes in an attempt to ease some of the agonizing pressure. But Childe doesn’t let him, simply follows the writhing of his hips.

“Jesus- Childe, too much too much-”

The fingers speed up at that, because of course they do, and Scaramouche’s calf trembles in overstimulation.

“Childe, shit-” Tears prick at his eyes.

The ginger lets out a growl of satisfaction at the way Scaramouche’s body seizes, like he’s already familiar with it, familiar with the way his toes curl and his spine arches. Perhaps Scaramouche was easier to break than he’d thought.

The slurping of Childe’s mouth against Scaramouche’s perineum is lewd, obscene, and Scaramouche is close. Really close. It seems Childe already knows this, because just as Scaramouche begins to feel himself about to spurt against Childe’s fingers, they leave him entirely.

Scaramouche sobs when his balls clench tight, his orgasm ripped from him instantaneously.

“You fucking jackass, why did you-?”

Childe growls, rising to his feet in a blur, yanking his belt free from the loops with trembling, spit slicked fingers. He looks feral, the horniness flushing his freckled cheeks and blowing his pupils beyond his diamond irises. The hardness beneath his work jeans is painful, and he makes quick work of freeing his length from the confines.

“Shut up.”

While Scara can’t exactly see Childe’s length, he sure can feel it when Childe nestles it against his crack. It’s heavy, and he can hear when Childe puckers his lips to spit on the shaft as some sort of makeshift lube, then he’s pulling his hips back to sink the tip beyond Scaramouche’s loosened rim.

It very nearly punches the air from the brunette’s lungs, who can’t seem to stop squirming as the inches sink into what feels like his fucking guts . Childe must notice it too, because his palms press against Scaramouche’s lower back to pin him the fuck still.

“Take it,” Childe drawls, his voice sounds gravelly and beyond gone, and Scaramouche’s eyes widen at the drastic shift in persona. This was not the Childe he knew, the polite and well mannered man was now some… beast about to pound Scaramouche nine ways to Sunday.

“Childe- how fucking big are you?” Scaramouche heaves, hole greedily swallowing inch by agonizing inch. He’s astounded he could fit the fucker inside him without lube , but even with the arousal making him delirious and loosening his body, he can feel the stinging stretch of Childe’s dick splitting him open. And he hasn’t even bottomed out yet, Scaramouche doesn’t know how much more he can take. Perhaps he overestimated himself, or underestimated Childe .

“H-half.” Childe pants, faltering when he feels resistance. His mind swims when he looks down to peer at where their bodies are connected.

Scaramouche gasps wetly, “You're only half way in?!” He begins to thrash against Childe’s palms. “I can’t take that- holy sh-”

A rumbling sounds deep from within Childe’s chest, protesting at what sounds like Scaramouche’s hesitance. He needed to be buried in him, now. He couldn’t handle being denied this far along. Not when Scara was so tight wrapped around him.

“You can take you, you can,” He insists.

“Childe, I can’t-“

Scaramouche has no time to prepare himself as Childe’s hips surge forward to sheath himself beyond the slick walls, and Scaramouche’s muscles go rigid with a wail when he feels himself become impaled .

“Ungh-!”

His vision goes white with agony, he can barely even fully cry properly from how full he suddenly becomes, every twitch and jostle has the ridiculous length prodding painfully against every part of his insides. If he thought before was bad, this is torture on an entirely unprecedented level.

And then he’s cumming, legs trembling so intensely Childe has to hold him up with a shocked, pained cry when the muscles clamp down on his length. He’d hardly expected the brunette to break so soon, and it has some sick, animalistic part of his brain going haywire.

Scaramouche can hardly feel anything other than pure, unadulterated pleasured agony as it rolls through his body, it hurts so bad but he fucking loves it, mouth dropping open in a silent scream when Childe rolls his hips to fuck him through it. Semen spurts from his cock, splattering onto the floor beside their feet with disgusting plap’s.

Childe whines, pressing a palm against Scaramouche’s lower back to pummel his hips against the shorter man’s ass. Like a fucking dog in heat, he pays no mind to the way Scaramouche is sobbing in pained bliss, all he can hear is the pathetic ah ah ah’s leaving his mouth with every thrust.

“S’ fucking good ah-!” Scaramouche slurs, fucked out of his mind and so beyond delirious all he can do is take take take. The length fucks into him like it has one mission, some carnal intent to breed his imaginary womb, and then he begins to beg for it.

Childe yanks him back onto his cock by his hips, spearing Scaramouche onto his length and it gives the latter no room to adjust to the pressure.

“Please-“ He pants, feeling the oozing droplets of remaining semen dripping from the weeping tip of his softening cock against his thighs. He begs to be filled, begs for the man to flood him full.

“Fill me, please, please, Ajax-“

Childe exhales sharply at that, like the usage of the nickname he’d practically begged Scaramouche to use, to which he’d always been rejected, snapped him from whatever salacious frenzy he’d fallen into, and then he shoves forward to bury himself as far as he can beyond Scaramouche’s walls. His balls clench, once, then twice, and then he’s releasing his load deep into Scaramouche’s hole.

“Fuck-!” He growls, fingertips sinking painfully into Scaramouche’s asscheeks, pulling them apart to watch the way the hole struggles to accommodate for his length.

“Yes, yes-“ Scaramouche babbles, and with one final thrust of Childe’s hips,

the window unlatches itself from its stuck position with a sickening crack.

Childe’s head darts up in surprise at the unmistakable sound of breaking wood, and Scaramouche freezes against him. But neither of them move to stop the shallow thrusts of Childe’s hips for a long moment, ensuring Scaramouche milks him for everything he’s got.

A winded pant leaves Scaramouche when Childe’s hips halt and he blinks the white spots from his vision.

“Did…did it just-”

Childe eases himself from Scaramouche hesitantly after the throbbing of his balls has ceased, Scara winces at the rawness of his asshole. He was going to kill the fucking ginger. When he could walk again.

Scaramouche looks over his shoulder to meet Childe’s widened eyes, who appears far more normal and satiated now that he’d absolutely demolished Scaramouche ass.

Then, Childe leans forward in an attempt to raise the window. And…

It marvellously raises without an issue.

Childe scoffs incredulously, shrugging at Scaramouche’s narrowed expression.

“You’re disgusting. My ass hurts, you fucking pervert.” Scaramouche accuses, back to his usual, bratty self.

The ginger balks, tucking himself back into his jeans and leaning down to tug Scaramouche’s lounge shorts back up his shaky legs.

“Hey, you wanted it just as much as I did!”

Scaramouche winces when he raises back up to a normal standing position, rubbing a palm over his sore, raw tummy, and his palm stills when he finds his lower stomach is bloated from the sheer amount of semen inside him.

Apparently Childe has noticed this as well, for he wears an aggravatingly smug smile that grates Scaramouche’s nerves, and he cocks his head in that insufferable way he knows best. He wiggles his brows.

“Think I got you pregnant?”

Scaramouche hisses when the ginger speaks, raising his palm to smack him upside the head with a shocked ‘sicko!’

#genshin fanfic #scaramouche x tartaglia #scaramouche x childe #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin smut #wanderer #genshin #wanderer x tartaglia #wanderer x childe #childe genshin impact

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television-overload · 13 hours

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 28/34 - cigarette smoke

[Read on AO3]

The scent of cigarette smoke wakes her, burning her nostrils with its offensive odor.

It reminds her of the days before—when he’d come in the night, speaking in hushed tones with her husband and effectively plotting the end of her life and happiness. The downfall of the family she’d worked so hard to hold together.

It had been a long time since family meant more to her than heartache and regret. She’s not about to let him take it away again. Not when she might have just gotten it back.

“Get out of my house,” she says, her voice coming out strong and commanding despite the late hour.

“Teena,” he intones, as if surprised to find her in her own home. “How nice to see you.”

She flicks the light on above him, depriving him of the precious darkness he likes to hide behind. He’s always been too theatrical for her taste. It used to intimidate her, even scare her. Not anymore.

She grips Bill’s old shotgun in her hands.

“Are you going to shoot me, Teena?” he says, squinting at her and chuckling a bit under his breath. It doesn’t look like she’ll need to, at this rate. He’s already run himself halfway into the ground without her help.

A pity.

She adjusts her hold on the weapon anyway. It’s loaded, of course. She isn’t a fool.

“What do you want, Spender?” she asks impatiently. “There’s nothing more for you here.”

“Is there not?” he asks coolly, leaning toward the coffee table where he has set out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I thought you might like to celebrate. I heard the good news, of course.”

The hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Of course he’d heard. He has eyes and ears everywhere. She’d given up long ago trying to keep things from him. It never ended well.

“You stay away from my son and his family,” she spits, raising the barrel of the gun toward him. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Don’t you mean our son, Teena?” he asks, smirking up at her. “I think that makes them my family too, if I’m not mistaken.”

She reels back in disgust. “You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says accusingly. “And you are not his father.”

The smoking man chuckles heartily again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “Oh, I assure you, I am. I’ve had Fox’s DNA tested on several occasions. The results are quite conclusive.”

“I don’t care what your results say,” she says, a fire burning in her eyes. “DNA doesn’t mean one thing when it comes to family.”

Spender purses his lips, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He knows there’s nothing he can say to that.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he says after a tense silence. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be convinced. I don’t need to be his father to leave an impression on him, do I?”

He gets to his feet, approaching her one step at a time, unbothered by the weapon she holds.

She holds her ground.

“I can be very persuasive, if you’ll recall,” he says, reaching up to touch a stray tuft of hair on her head.

Enough.

“You relinquished any hold you may have had on him the day you entrusted him to Agent Scully,” she spits, jabbing the mouth of the gun into his side and pushing him back a few inches. “Now, you can either heed my warning, or face the consequences.”

He tilts his head curiously, the ever-present smirk on his face unwavering.

“Is that so? And what might those be?”

He has no idea, does he, how much damage she could do. Decades of righteous anger stored up inside her, a front row seat to some of the most horrific and evil acts of mankind…

“Do you forget that I was there, Spender?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve heard it all—seen everything. Can you really risk letting what I know get out?”

“You seem to think I can’t kill you where you stand,” he says, leveling her with a menacing stare, dropping his earlier unaffected demeanor. “If sleeping pills are your method of choice, that can easily be arranged.”

She scoffs at him.

“You won’t kill me,” she says confidently. “And I will not be intimidated by you.”

For all the times she stayed silent, for all the fear that once controlled her—this is her redemption.

C.G.B. Spender is a stain on humanity, and she will not allow him to meddle in her life any longer.

“There are two ways this can end,” she states, her voice low and serious. “Either you disappear, and never come near my family again—or I watch you bleed out all over my grandmother’s rug. Your choice.”

He lifts his cigarette to his lips. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke envelops her face, but she does not waver.

“I’ll go,” he says evenly. “No need to desecrate such a lovely antique.”

That’s the thing she had never noticed as a younger woman: that this man is nothing but a coward. Everything he does, every action he takes, is to save his own skin and nothing more. Only her son was bold enough to stand up to him. He had shown her the cracks in Spender’s armor.

“You’ll stay away from Fox and Dana,” she states, watching as he turns to leave.

He glances back at her.

“Your threat holds no real power over me,” he says offhandedly, notably not agreeing to her terms. Bending down over the coffee table, he picks up the glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself and takes a sip. “Anything you might reveal of my business would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman. And you’re right, I don’t want to kill you. But I will, if you force my hand. Nothing will be revealed that I do not wish to be revealed.”

“Ha,” Teena laughs humorlessly. He thinks so highly of himself, like he’s some kind of all-knowing god, controlling the events of this world like some grandiose puppetmaster.

She’s seen behind the curtain, though, and she knows better. She’s learned how to play his game.

“If you think my death would stop the truth from coming out, you’re more of a fool than I thought,” she says. “How long have I known you, Spender, that I wouldn’t have put in failsafes in the event of my death?”

Oh, is that a flicker of fear, she detects?

“I’ve had the better part of three decades to plan for your downfall,” she continues. “I do not fear death as you do.”

His lips remain tightly closed, his whiskey forgotten.

She leans in close, meeting his cold, unfeeling eyes head on.

“And that is why you will always fail.”

There’s a kind of delirious satisfaction in watching him go. It’s a waste of oxygen, she thinks, that he continues to live, but she will not stoop to his level. Not unless absolutely necessary.

He slinks back into the shadows from whence he came, and she prays that’s the last she will ever see or hear from him again. She’s prepared to follow through with her threats, if it’s not.

The shotgun goes back to its rightful place under her bed, with all her husband’s old things. He had been a good man, before he got swept up in Spender’s world. She tries, now, to remember that side of him, and not the one that came later. Enough of her life has been spent being angry, and she’s tired of it. She’s tired of the sadness and the bitterness.

It’s time for her to move past all that.

She lays back in her bed, the one that had almost been her deathbed, and breathes in deeply. Once upon a time, she had needed copious amounts of sleeping pills just to get through the night. The horrors that awaited her when she closed her eyes were unbearable, so traumatizing that she’d even experience nightmarish hallucinations.

But now?

Well, for the first time in years, Teena Mulder has a peaceful night’s sleep.

~~~

I can't make you go a day without Mulder and Scully in the update...

He knows he should be sleeping. Scully is snoozing away on the bed, and has been for quite some time now. Then again, once her head hits a pillow, he knows she’s hard-pressed to stay awake for even five minutes.

Chapter 29/34 - rocking chair

Him, however…

He sits up on the ugly upholstered couch, stretching his neck in a futile attempt to straighten out the kinks.

He’s a father.

The thought is almost beyond comprehension. If he’d actually been asleep, he might have thought it had all been a dream. But, no. He’s sitting in a hospital room a mere ten feet away from Scully, and they’re parents.

It feels both sudden, and like it was years in the making.

Casting a quick glance over to his sleeping partner, he rises to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway, pulling the door open as quietly as possible. The brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hallway causes him to squint momentarily until his eyes can adjust. A sign comes into focus in front of him on the wall, pointing him in the direction he wants to go.

A few hours ago, the nurses came by to check on the three of them, ensuring that they had everything they needed for the night. They’d offered to take the baby to the nursery so that the new parents could rest, and though it was tough to see that little cherubic face go, he and Scully both knew that their nights of getting a somewhat acceptable amount of sleep were numbered. They eventually agreed, and like magic, Scully had slipped into her silk pajamas and under the paper-thin hospital sheets before he even knew what happened.

Now, though, he figures he might as well do something useful with his insomnia-induced awake time, so he heads down the hall until he comes to a large glass window. Behind it, the lights are dimmed, but bright enough that he can see the seven or eight babies sleeping peacefully in individual plastic bassinets.

His cheeks twitch with the beginnings of a smile as he takes in the gentle rise and fall of their little bellies, their first soft breaths of this new life.

Each one has a name tacked onto the plastic bin of the bassinet, proudly announcing the date and time each was born. His eyes roam over every one until he spots her. His little girl.

Madeline Samantha Mulder May 2, 2000 10:13 a.m. 6 lb. 4 oz. / 18 ¾ in.

Though he’s already had the better part of a day to get to know her, the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Almost as if she senses she is being watched, she begins to fuss, the hat that was keeping her head warm beginning to fall off. He can see wetness building around her eyes, tears leaking out and drying on her rosy cheeks.

Mulder puts his hand on the glass, wishing there was something he could do.

Thankfully, a nurse comes bustling in, bunching the little pink stocking cap back onto her head and whispering soothing words that he can’t hear.

He taps softly against the glass, not loud enough to disturb the other sleeping infants, but sufficient to get the attention of the nurse. After adjusting the baby’s blankets, she looks up, offering Mulder a small smile.

“Can I see her?” he mouths, pointing at his daughter. He raises his wrist and points to the hospital band that declares him the baby’s father, and the woman’s smile widens. After double-checking that Madeline is back asleep, the nurse comes around to the hallway, clipboard in hand.

“Already on that new parent sleep schedule, I see,” she jokes, eyes scanning down a list of names.

Mulder chuckles. “Been practicing for years,” he says.

“Can I see your band?” she asks, and he presents it to her. She checks the ID number on it against the information on her documentation, and nods. “You wanna take her back to your room?”

He hesitates. “Uh, my… wife’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to calling her that…

“Not a problem, Mr. Mulder. We’ve got a room back here you can use, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

The nurse leads him back to a side room at the back of the nursery equipped with a few chairs and all the necessary supplies.

“Let me go get your little girl,” she says, before disappearing through the doorway. She’s back moments later, the baby now blinking awake in her arms.

Mulder mentally kicks himself.

“I shouldn’t have had you disturb her, she needs her sleep,” he says, a tinge of regret causing his shoulders to slump as she rests little Madeline in the cradle of his arms. Parent rule #1, if your baby is sleeping (by some miracle), don’t even breathe in the wrong direction. Just count your blessings.

He’s already messing it up.

His self-chastisement is cut short by the warm chuckle of the night nurse. “She’ll go right back to sleep, don’t you worry. She’s all tuckered out from her busy day!” she assures him.

Mulder relaxes, smiling a grateful smile up at her.

“Let me know when you’re heading back to your room,” she says, taking her leave.

Once she’s gone, Mulder’s attention falls to the wide-eyed little creature staring up at him. Her eyes are baby blue, a different shade than Scully’s, but he’s probably the only person on the planet that could tell you so. The flutter of her eyelashes mesmerizes him.

“Hi,” he breathes, tears involuntarily pooling in his eyes for what must be the millionth time that day. Maddie wriggles in her tightly swaddled blankets, and Mulder tugs on them to make sure they don’t fall loose.

After some effort, one tiny little arm escapes its confines despite his attempt at stopping it. He shakes his head with a breath of laughter, reaching out with his free hand to let her wrap his finger in her miniscule fist. With his thumb, he begins tracing soft circles on her warm, baby soft skin.

Has he ever held a hand so small? Five perfect, pudgy fingers on each hand. The tiniest fingernails he’s ever seen. That cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Rosebud lips and a chin that he’s noticed juts out just a little when she’s about to cry.

She’s perfect, his Madeline. And he vows to protect her from all the harm in this world.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby girl,” he whispers, lifting her fist to his lips and placing a kiss there. “Don’t tell mommy.”

Her wide eyes stare up at him, trusting and content.

“Come here,” he says, and he shifts her so she’s upright, then transfers her to his chest. The second her cheek—still sticky from tears—falls against his chest, her eyes flutter shut. He can feel her every breath, laying like this. From the rise and fall of her chest to the almost imperceptible exhales of air from her nose, there is a living breathing person relying on him now.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

He rubs her back, patting lightly at a steady rhythm that he hopes is comforting and relaxing. The repetitive motion plus the rocking chair ought to be enough to put any person to sleep—even himself.

Her fist curls against the neckline of his worn, gray t-shirt, fastening it in her iron grip. He lets his cheek fall against her head and breathes in deeply. This is a moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her head before he pulls back.

He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. He thinks he can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the hallway, and a door somewhere in the distance snicks shut.

He lowers his voice even further, speaking so only his baby can hear.

“I’m in love with your mommy.”

The words are barely audible, but they’re the truth. And a truth spoken softly is better than nothing.

“What do you think of that, huh?”

On his shoulder, Madeline’s face has gone slack, a little bubble peeking out between her lips with each even breath she takes. She’s fast asleep, and in hardly any time at all.

He prays the pattern will continue when they get home.

For a good half hour, he stays planted in that chair, humming softly to every song he can think of that might qualify as a lullaby. Eventually though, after two rounds of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis, his own eyes begin to droop shut.

He’s loath to part with her, but the nurse stops by again asking if he’d like her to take the baby back to her bassinet, and he agrees. Before long, he’s back in the hall, the phantom weight of Madeline on his shoulder as he carefully opens the door to suite 509.

“Mulder?” he hears her voice, raspy and disoriented. The sliver of light from the hall illuminates her face, and she blocks it out with a raised hand, squinting adorably. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, making his way back to the couch.

“Were you trying to sleep on that thing?” she asks, looking at the couch in disdain. He wants to laugh at the messiness of her hair sticking up every which way, but instead he feels his heart clench at the sight of her.

I love you, he thinks.

“Mulder…”

He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, so he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Might be a little short, but not bad,” he says.

The furrow of Scully’s eyebrows is visible even just by the light of the moon streaming through the horizontal window blinds.

“I sat there earlier. It’s terrible,” she says, confusion lacing her features.

Mulder shrugs, not sure what else to say.

She purses her lips, the expression on her face one he recognizes to be her puzzle-solving face. He’s seen it plenty of times at crime scenes, but he doesn’t have a clue what it may mean in this context.

“Come over here,” she says.

He looks up, his eyes meeting hers.

She’s serious.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands from the couch, approaching Scully cautiously lest she change her mind.

But instead of changing her mind, she shuffles backward, making space on the not quite queen-sized bed for Mulder to lay down.

“How is she?” Scully asks knowingly as the bed dips below his weight.

He toes his shoes off, swinging his legs up on the bed and tucking them beneath the covers.

“She’s perfect, Scully.”

She smiles. Her hand reaches out as he’s settling into the mattress, and catches his hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he hopes she can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.

This somehow feels different than the other times they’ve shared a bed. Unlike those times, there’s no great need for comfort and security, and no cow has flown through the roof of the building.

It’s just two parents trying to catch some shut-eye. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Thanks for being here, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily, her eyes having fallen shut once again. “Thanks for being her dad.”

He squeezes her hand once in acknowledgement. There are too many words he wishes he could say, gratitude he wants to express for allowing him to do this with her, to be a part of it. For giving Maddie his last name. For honoring his sister. He doesn’t even know where to begin, but now isn’t the time anyway. He is rendered functionally mute.

The air conditioner hums in the silence that settles, and he counts the seconds, sure that she must have gone back to sleep.

Just as he begins to feel himself drifting off, he hears her again.

It’s almost inaudible. Spoken like a secret into the night, an accidental admission that wasn’t meant for his ears. Part of him isn’t sure it’s her he hears at all, merely a wishful auditory hallucination experienced on the cusp of a dream.

“I love you.”

And, even if it’s not real, he thinks he hears himself utter back, “I love you too.”

~~~

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