#smuttle

[springfallendeer]

Late Night Serenade

Subnautica AU storyline featuring @justaduckarts "Pluto" and @pulsarsatellite "Aberrant". This was a very fun little commission to work on.

5.3k words, so a bit of a read. Alien naughtiness. Size difference kink. Weird anatomy stuff. Very sweet but with some strange parts.

Deep into the night, when all is meant to be silent and still, a familiar song begins. Booming and sorrowful. The many complex notes flow effortlessly through the open water, rattling the carefully established foundation of the undersea base.

If the song itself did not prove enough to rouse its nearest listener, then the distressing rattling it caused would have done the trick.

Those first loud, agonizing notes prove startling enough to wake her. The runaway survivor who has come to call this underwater establishment her home.

As soon as she wakes, she struggles to get on to her feet.

While her humanoid anatomy is suitable enough for land-based locomotion, her largely aquatic anatomy has stripped her of any adaptations that would have otherwise given her the ability to maintain balance. As a result, she fails to keep herself properly upright.

The instant that her feet meet the trembling floor, she stumbles onto her knees. Though she does try to stand back up once; twice; thrice, she ultimately accepts the fact that she is simply incapable of walking on these unsteady floors.

Though she can crawl towards the latch that will lead her into the open water, her inability to properly maintain balance assures that the journey is a tedious one. Multiple times she loses what little balance she has. She falls onto her side. She flops onto her stomach. Multiple times, she nearly falls onto her face.

Despite the intense struggle, she does eventually make it to the hatch.

The instant that she gets the hatch open and drags herself down into the water, her lack of balance ceases to be an issue.

In the water, she moves as freely and as gracefully as any fish. Her alien genetics and generations worth of adaptations have worked in tandem to grant her a body that is perfectly suited to survive in the sea.

Through the use of webbed fingers and a long, ribbon-like tail, she easily maneuvers through the open water. All the while her body is jostled by the booming notes of the forlorn song.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant. Quite the opposite. The microscopic underwater ripples shake against her skin, creating an effect similar to that of a massage. And because she’s built to endure these underwater vibrations, they bring her no discomfort whatsoever.

Even the volume of the song is of little concern. Again, she is built to endure these underwater sound waves. She won’t even suffer a headache as a result of listening to them.

It's not hard to find the source of the booming, forlorn song. Not that its source was a mystery.

The Leviathan floats aimlessly in the open water above the base. Mostly still, but not entirely so. They must move every so often to prevent their natural camouflaging abilities from kicking in and turning them virtually invisible.

A slow tilt of the head here. The aimless wave of a glowing lure there. That’s all that it takes for the artificial being to maintain maximum visibility.

Having found her companion, she swims up to him.

This is where the song does become a problem.

At this close of a range, the power of the vibrations shakes the surrounding water more dramatically. To the point that small bubbles even form around her. These bubbles, combined with the stronger vibrations, make it very difficult to swim. Each booming note works to push her away. When a brief silence sets in between the notes, the water abruptly settles and drags her in any random direction.

The song effectively creates momentary underwater currents. Currents which easily drag her smaller body around.

Just like reaching the hatch had been a struggle, she struggles to swim to this massive being. But ultimately she must if she wishes to properly console them.

All it will take is a touch. A brush of her fingers against their scales. A comforting scrape of her tail against their body. The reassuring nuzzle of her nose against their muzzle. All of these gestures and more will work as a means of reminding them that they are not alone.

Her already tired body is exhausted by the time she does reach them.

She was wise enough to swim directly into their line of sight. That way she could not unintentionally startle them with her unexpected appearance.

As a bonus, the Leviathan also ceased with their singing the instant that they took notice of her. Because they understood that the power of their song jostled her much smaller body around without mercy.

She hears the note die unexpectedly in their throat, and she watches as their eyes briefly widen with a mixture of shock and concern. Their eyes then immediately soften with sadness, and they begin to sing a new song. A softer, more apologetic song.

It is quite apparent that they did not realize just how loud that they were being. Chances are they meant to sing their song throughout the night without waking her. But in their state of emotional distress, they failed to keep the power of their voice in check.

She trills back a forlorn song of her own as she swims closer. Her song, while far quieter and of a much higher pitch, resonates with them just as much as theirs had with her.

The Leviathan drops their muzzle ever so slightly as she approaches.

Their song booms again. Not nearly as dramatically as before, but enough to make the water around her vibrate again.

She is not jostled. Simply caressed by the somber tone of the beautiful notes flowing across her smaller body.

She caresses the Leviathan in turn. Not through her song, but through her touch. She places her webbed hands upon the wide, bumpy snout of her companion. Her hands maintain contact with their face as she glides them upwards along the ride of their snout, until her arms lay flat. Her torso bends around the front of their muzzle. Her knees rest at the bottom of their jaw. Her tail wraps around to press flat against their submental space. Every few seconds, as their song flows out of them, her tail is stirred. This results in her tail lightly flapping against their scaly flesh, creating something reminiscent of an affectionate pat on the chin.

This is how they hug. The differences between their bodies affords them no options as intimate as this.

As peculiar as the embrace might appear, it does bring them comfort. She consoles her lonely companion, and they in turn find the reassurance that they are not quite as alone as they feel.

“Plu-to…” Their voice calls to her like an ambient hum, whistling in the depths of her mind; uttered not through words or through whistles, but through the unique transmission of an empath. They are both reassuring themselves of her presence, and communicating a need for further comfort through social interaction.

Conversations are something so rarely afforded to a creature which has been forced to spend a solitary lifestyle.

“Aberrant~...” She whistles his name in turn. Not through any unique power, but through the distinct trill of her underwater song. She reassures them of her presence through the use of their name. Her voice and her touch play in unison to put this massive being more at ease. Though she fears the inadequacy of her earnest attempts.

“Hurt-ing…” Aberrant responds in turn; the strained, quiet tone of his telepathic voice establishing his struggle to communicate. It is a struggle no different than any other form of communication; or specifically, a struggle born from a lack thereof. The anatomy responsible for this manner of speech has gone with so little use that even conveying simple words has become a struggle. It will take years, if not decades of practice to bring them into an optimal conversational state.

Not that there is much need to communicate further. The sound of their song and that one simple word does all that it needs to establish their state. A state of deep emotional pain brought on by centuries of solitude spent longing for any form of familial contact.

In all his years, he has never found a mate. He has never sired children. His only family; if they can be called family at all, are long dead. It is the sad reality of a genetic experiment. Anything even remotely similar to him failed to survive due to lack of resources and care; cursing him to this empty, solitary life.

Pluto has only recently become a part of this empty life; and while equally broken in her own way, she cannot fully relate to the suffering that this poor Leviathan has endured.

“I’m here.” She simply sings back in turn, reminding the enormous creature that their loneliness is not quite as absolute as it once was.

This appears to console them greatly. The pitch of their next few notes change. They are higher and drawn out much like whistles, or a hum. The sound stirs the water less and allows her to comfortably rest on their snout so that she can cuddle with them properly.

But the pitch and the volume change abruptly in the middle of the song. As does Aberrant’s posture.

Their entire body tenses abruptly and their song deepens dramatically; it is as if a sudden and intense pain took hold of them, causing them to flinch and groan in distress.

Pluto finds herself jostled not by the volume of the vocalization, but by the sharp, unintentional movement brought on by the Leviathan’s sudden bout of full body tension. She is nearly knocked off of his muzzle, but is able to use the momentum of his movements to guide herself back so that she can lay completely atop his snout.

Another deep groan resonates from him as she settles atop his nose. His bioluminescence begins to act up, causing the many glowing barbs and spots that line his body to burst to life; making him all the more visible in the darkness of the nocturnal sea.

Suddenly he seems to be in a lot of physical distress. She is rightly concerned, as she has no means of guessing exactly what it is that has caused this problem. Nor does she know if it is a problem that she can even fix.

Worried, she begins to gently pat the bridge of their nose, near their front facing eyes.

“Aberrant?!” Pluto calls to him. The desperation in her tone of voice is obvious. She is concerned about her friend and eager to help alleviate their pain however she can. But she needs to know what is wrong. She cannot help if she does not know what is wrong with them.

“Hurts!...” Aberrant’s voice groans in turn, unintentionally piercing the depths of the woman’s mind with a taste of the discomfort that has overtaken him. His empath abilities unwittingly acting as a double edge sword, which allow him to feel her emotional state while also allowing her to feel his, if and when he is willing to share that burden.

Pluto finds herself struck by his intense but unexpected emotional duress.

She feels his pain and his loneliness.

But she also feels his frustration. His raw, sexual frustration.

For centuries he has been without companionship. He has never had a mate. Tonight’s unexpected, booming song was not purely born from loneliness; but from the desire to breed.

In a roundabout way, he was in heat, or rut. The climate was just right. His hormones were running rampant.

He was like an animal unexpectedly thrust into the depths of the breeding season. Centuries of frustration have returned to antagonize him once more, and he once again found himself without means of properly relieving these urges.

And Pluto has found herself being subjected to these same pent up urges through their empathic connection.

Hormones flood her body abruptly and without restraint, sending her into a heat cycle of her own. Her skin flushes, causing beautiful patterns of pink and lavender to stand out against the lighter portions of her skin; an adaptation meant to signal her own eagerness to mate.

Aberrant is just as startled by her sudden rush of arousal as he was distressed by his own; because the double edged sword of the empath has naturally assured that he will feel her emotional state in turn. He nearly tosses her off of him with his sudden jolt of surprise.

The two of them begin to groan in unison, a mixture of sexual hormones, confusion, and desire taking hold of them all at once.

Neither are all that sure of what to do.

Hesitation mixes into their already scrambled emotions. Primal urges fight with logical minds. Fear and doubt battle with desire. The instinct to seek out that intimacy brawls with the knowledge of how that intimacy will change them.

In the end, they both submit to these urges.

Unexpected as this situation is, their desires are mutual. There is no need to overcomplicate things through haphazard words when they can literally feel each other’s desires.

But the open water is not the place for these desires to be fulfilled. They are too exposed. Too vulnerable to potential threats.

Pluto holds fast to Aberrant’s face as he makes a fast, smooth dive to the depths of the sea.

His massive body settles upon the smooth, glittering sand of the seabed. Underwater dust and debris is stirred as a result of his sudden approach. The cloud both provides cover and hides them from any prying eyes that might roam these dark water. Though the ambient glow of his bioluminescence reflects off of the many floating grains; which in turn creates the illusion that a much larger creature has settled upon the sand.

The Leviathan sings again as Pluto begins to tentatively explore.

The drastic differences between their bodies will likely make this process difficult. Not to mention risky.

There will be a lot of touch and go while they figure out what can and cannot be done in the pursuit of sexual intimacy.

The many lures that dangle from Aberrant’s head become a means of curiously exploring the woman’s body. They wrap lightly around her limbs as she guides herself down their nose, towards the end of their muzzle.

The instant that she has reached his mouth, his tongue darts out to affectionately lap at her body. An action which is neither new nor unfamiliar to them.

Only now, the fabric irritates him; it prevents him from caressing her skin directly with his lures or his tongue.

Pluto submits as her body is swiftly snared by the many tentacle-like lures that protrude from Aberrant’s head. Some wrap around her arms and legs to hold them still as others sneak directly into her wetsuit.

Frustrated as they are, the Leviathan is mindful. They have no desire to hurt their companion and soon to be lover. Irritated as they are with the wetsuit, they make sure not to hurt its wearer as they proceed to easily rip it to pieces.

The beautiful markings that line Pluto’s body are put on full display once the suit is ripped apart. The pink and lavender patterns resemble leaves and flowers. They are designed to amplify specific physical features. As a result, her cheeks stand out. As do her small breasts, her abdomen, and her vulva.

Aberrant appears to be fixated with her strange, but beautiful new appearance. He sings a familiar, playful note as he proceeds to drag his tongue along her bare body.

Pluto trembles in delight. The Leviathan’s tongue is soft and warm. The many papillae lining the slippery muscle stimulate her pleasantly; the bumpy texture proves especially appealing lower down on her body.

The double edged skill of the empath assures that Aberrant is well aware of how much the woman enjoys being licked. He is also aware of where she prefers his tongue to touch her.

A pleasant trill escapes him as he pokes his tongue out to lick her again. His many head lures remain wrapped around her smaller, delicate frame all the while. He’ll keep hold of her until it comes time to let her explore.

But that can wait.

Right now, his focus is entirely on exploring the joys of stroking her with his tongue. 

Aberrant can feel how his tongue stimulates her. Each stroke against her lower half sends pleasant tingles coursing through his pelvic region. As a result, he comes to enjoy licking her just as much as she enjoys being licked. The positive feedback loop becomes something of a reinforcement.

Especially when the sensations begin to grow more intense.

He doesn’t exactly understand why the pleasure seems to build the way it does, but he also can’t be bothered to question it. All he knows is that it feels good; to Pluto and to himself by proxy.

So he continues to work his tongue, dragging it slower each time; until eventually he’s just persistently grinding the tip of his tongue between her spread legs.

“Abe~!” Pluto sings his nickname in a sweet, enthusiastic voice as she rolls her hips against his tongue.

Her voice only encourages him further.

“Plu-to~” Aberrant sings her name in turn, mixing his vocalizations with his telepathic voice so that he can fully convey his delight.

The pleasure is so intense now.

Pluto trembles in his grasp as he continues to grind his tongue between her legs.

Her taste changes, becoming sweeter and more potent. Feminine hormones wash over his tongue, enticing him further.

They sing in unison as something amazing happens.

The pleasure seems to reach a peak. Intense waves of euphoria cause them to tense and relax in pleasant pulses.

Aberrant feels Pluto’s orgasm; and Pluto becomes acutely aware of the fact that Aberrant has experienced an orgasm of their own in turn. An orgasm not unlike her own. One that leaves him twitching internally the same way that her vulva throbs against his tongue.

When the initial disorientation wears off, the woman is left all the more aware of the Leviathan’s intense, romantic glow. His one monotone glow has transitioned to ripples of vibrant colors. Colors which transition every few seconds for a minute or so, before settling back onto a singular hue.

Aberrant purrs as he shifts so that he can affectionately nuzzle the woman.

Pluto responds in turn by gently running her hands along his snout.

The two maintain unwavering eye contact as they cuddle for a moment. Skin to skin adds to the intimacy of the orgasmic afterglow.

But the moment of stillness doesn’t last long. Aberrant is soon curious about Pluto’s body once more; and the woman is admittedly interested in finding out just what else the Leviathan might be able to get away with.

Aberrant uses his lures to adjust the woman in his hold. He has her lay down atop his muzzle so that he can properly observe her body.

She spreads her legs on her own accord, eager to show off the part of her body that is now in desperate need of stimulation.

The Leviathan can sense it through their empathic connection.

She wants something inside. She wants him to fill her up and stir up her insides however he can; without hurting her, of course.

Curiosity and desire mingle.

Aberrant uses his glowing lures to explore the possibilities at play. He further coaxes her legs apart with gentle tugs.

At last, he pushes onwards with his desired experiment.

The bulbous end of one of his tendrils is delicately pressed between Pluto’s legs. He compares size and shape to determine if insertion is even a possibility, all while taking into account the fact that these tentacle-like lures of his are rather malleable.

He remains as gentle as he can as he attempts to usher the glowing bulb at the end of his tendril into her.

He observes how her body stretches to accommodate the girthy mass of flesh, and how his own flesh compresses and distorts in order to squeeze into this unexplored orifice.

At no point is Pluto put in pain.

Though she - and Aberrant by extension - is startled when the tip of the lure suddenly pops inside of her. After having cleared that threshold of resistance, it really did snap in easily. When it does, she registers a very slight sting from the abrupt movement. But following that, there is only pleasure.

She tries and fails to trill his name as the euphoria rushes over her. All that she can do is moan and spread her legs further in an inviting and submissive manner. The sensation of being filled is oh so satisfying in its own right.

The Leviathan is satisfied as well. Satisfied and fixated. He can see the faint bulge in Pluto’s abdomen where his lure has nestled inside of her.

Not only that, he can see the glow of his lure through her skin. The pink and lavender markings on her abdomen seem to light up from the internal bioluminescence.

He quite likes the way it looks; not to mention the way it feels.

Something inside of him is being stirred up by this little experiment. The phantom sensation of being thoroughly filled by a large, bulbous object adds to the satisfaction of what he’s doing.

No wonder Pluto likes it. It is quite pleasant to be filled.

Even though he only feels it through his empathic connection to her, he does enjoy it. Nothing about the sensation feels odd or unpleasant.

It is as if he is equally as built to be filled as she is.

He could do this all night, if she allowed it. But Pluto has grown curious of his body in her own right. As much as she wants to be stirred up and teased by the fleshy, glowing appendage that has been stuffed into her, she still wants her chance to explore. Allowing him to indulge for much longer will no doubt leave her sore and exhausted.

Not only that; she wants to find some other means of mutual pleasure. Up until now, Aberrant has only experienced the bliss of sexual intimacy as a byproduct of pleasing her.

She wants to please him. Or better yet, find a way to allow them to mutually please each other.

Aberrant reluctantly removes his lure from her. Very reluctantly.

In all fairness, her body is equally as reluctant to release him. He has to coax the bulbous mass of flesh out of her just as carefully as he had to coax it in. And just like before, when the resistance finally disappears, everything moves abruptly. So his lure pops out of her just like it had popped into her. Only this time, it makes a very obvious sound.

The sound of suction.

He wants to put the lure back in so bad. Just so that he can remove it again. The stimulation is wonderful and the sound is addicting. But he obediently releases Pluto so that she can take some initiative and explore his heated body.

The light given off by his body guides her down, not that what she’s looking for is hard to spot.

She never would have expected it to be white. White and… Opalescent? The light of his bioluminescence reflects off of the slippery flesh in all manner of soft, pleasant colors. As a result, Aberrant’s phallus stands out as a stark contrast to the rest of his darker toned body.

The shape itself is eye-catching as well. What she first mistook for a singular phallus then appears to be multiple tangled together in a neat, uniform fashion. Then on closer inspection, she realizes that it really is just one. The long, girthy tentacle is simply lined with a series of fleshy bumps; comparable to papillae; as well as multiple long tips. Three of them to be specific; each as long as her hand from fingertip to wrist.

He has such strange but fascinating genitals.

Aberrant sings impatiently as she tentatively familiarizes herself with his genitals. He is obviously eager to be touched. But he reluctantly keeps himself still and waits for Pluto to do as she will.

She is rightly intimidating by the size of it. At least thrice the length of her body and as prehensile as the tendrils growing from the Leviathan’s head.

Come to think of it… His penis honestly resembles a more complicated version of the muscular lures that line his skull. There are more ridges; and these ridges are longer. But instead of bioluminescent spots, his penis is lined with a series of large black spots which seem to absorb light.

It really is strange.

But not so strange that it makes her uneasy.

Outside of its impressive size, she’s not at all bothered by it. She just has to accept the fact that it’s impossible for her to really mate with Aberrant the way that nature would otherwise intend.

Or so she briefly assumed.

With more exploration, she finds something interesting. At the base of his phallus, around where his cloaca opens, there is an additional protrusion.

A smaller, more simplistic replica of his tentacle shaft? Possibly atrophied or deformed? Or something else, perhaps?

She isn’t quite sure what it is. But it's not nearly as intimidating as its larger counterpart. Seven or eight inches long. Smaller bumps. Only on tip. The same color, but it lacks the black spots.

Tentatively, she wraps her hand around it. Just to test the waters.

Aberrant squeaks. Then he sings in delight.

Alright. That was a good sign. She can feel how much he likes it through their connection. So she’s at least managed to find a means of making him feel good.

But she’s still curious. Is there anything else that she can do? She wants to make sure that he can enjoy this experience as much as possible. With her smaller size, she’ll need to stimulate him as much as she can.

Her curiosity inevitably brings her to his cloaca.

On some level, she can compare it to a vulva. There’s two fleshy outer lips which would normally come together to protect the delicate genitals that hide within it.

Will he like it if she stimulates inside?

Pluto gently presses her hands against the fleshy lips to usher them further apart, but she waits before doing anything else.

Obviously she won’t continue if this distresses Aberrant.

He responds with enthusiasm. Just as he had felt her desire to be filled, she can now feel his desire to be filled.

That’s all the permission that she needs to press on. She fully spreads his cloaca so that she can have a look at what little there is that remains hidden.

Two holes. Not all that far apart. One higher than the other.

Wait. Two???

Aberrant was male, right? Or… No. She was foolish to assume just based on his visible genitals. Plenty of creatures on this world are more complicated than that.

He must have both. That would certainly explain his desire to have something inserted into him.

Carefully, she reaches towards the higher orifice with one hand. Admittedly, she’s afraid of hurting him. He’s a virgin and has never been stimulated. She doesn’t even know how his anatomy works. It's possible that his vaginal canal isn’t all that well developed. He could be a transitional species that changes sex later on in life.

Her concerns quickly disappear when Aberrant sings again, delighted by the stimulation. He squirms as he sings, seemingly begging for her to stimulate him further.

Thoroughly motivated, she first slides her fingers into him. Then her hand, followed promptly by her arm.

He’s snug around her, but not tight. He can’t clamp down enough to actually grip her due to her small size. But based on his vocalizations, he’s enjoying the stimulation regardless.

Now thoroughly paying attention, she realizes that the smaller phallus is most likely a clitoris.

Knowing how sensitive her own clitoris is, she can only assume how sensitive his must be.

Alright. This can work. They can both enjoy this in a safe, satisfying way.

Carefully, Pluto straddles his large, wriggling phallus. Not to ride it, but to use it as support while she gets everything into place.

Aberrant trills in delight just feeling her hold onto his shaft. His song heightens in pitch when she then moves on to the next phase of her plan.

She can’t ride his penis. But she can ride his clitoris. It feels about the same to her once it slips inside her already prepped vaginal opening; and he certainly doesn’t complain. The stimulation feels amazing. She can hear it in his voice just as well as she can feel it through their empathic connection.

Neither of them are going to last long, doing this. The mutual pleasure amplifies the potency of the feedback look, effectively doubling the intensity of the overall stimulation.

One last thing.

Pluto carefully slips her tail into Aberrant’s vaginal opening. Her long, slender appendage is able to wriggle about inside of him and stimulate him. She can’t quite fill him up the way he craves, but she can give him the next best thing. He certainly isn’t complaining.

Having gotten everything where it needs to be, the woman offers a tentative roll of the hips.

Stars above, it feels incredible. The intensity of the euphoria is like a brain fog. Thick and pleasant; almost addictive.

She finds herself holding on tighter to the base of Aberrant’s shaft, which reflexively twists about in search of additional stimulation. He winds up wrapping it around her and using it to help her ride his throbbing clitoris.

The three-pronged head also winds up twisting around to linger near her face.

She’s not quite sure why she does it. Maybe it's the desire to please the sexually frustrated Leviathan. Maybe she just wants to repay him for his earlier pampering. Regardless, she takes to teasing him with her tongue as she rides his clit.

Aberrant’s song gets louder as he feels Pluto’s tongue stroke the slit at the tip of his phallus. She kisses him there like she would kiss someone on the lips. To the point that her tongue even slips inside of him to taste the milky pre-cum that has started to seep from within.

Wonderful. It feels wonderful. This definitely isn’t a traditional mating, but it feels amazing nonetheless.

They really don’t last long. Neither of them do. It’s even hard to say which of them actually orgasms first, thanks to the feedback loop of euphoria. If one orgasms, the other feels the same pleasure, which in turn leads to them orgasming. One orgasm is actually two, but two is actually four, and four is actually eight. All experienced in unison and in quick succession.

Being underwater does nothing to make the process less messy.

Without a proper orifice to drain into, Aberrant shamelessly ejaculates into open water. The white cloud pools around Pluto, concealing her from his view; at least until he uses his fins to blow the bodily fluid away so that he can see her.

All the while his clitoris throbs dramatically inside of her with each orgasm. She’s tight and warm and slippery. Every small movement sends jolts of pleasure running up his spine, further adding to the fog which has settled over his mind.

What is realistically only a few minutes of mating feels like hours, given the intensity of the orgasms and the number of orgasms that are experienced overall.

By the end of it, both are exhausted.

Exhausted, but happy. Regardless of the temporarily increased sensitivity brought on by the intensity of the experience.

The only reason that they stop when they do is because of the exhaustion. Both would happily continue if they maintained the stamina needed to do so.

Pluto in particular is tired. Aberrant knows exactly when to stop, and he does so without hesitation for the sake of keeping her safe and healthy.

Satisfied with his first time getting to mate, he carefully coaxes the tired woman up to his face so that he can allow her to rest safely on the bridge of his nose.

There, she inevitably succumbs to her exhaustion and drifts off into a peaceful slumber with the help of his soft, joyous song.

[underground-hip-hop-affiliated]

"you love that b*tch

and my niggas smuttle

send her on weed runs, backwood copin'

while you tryna handcuff her."

Con$piracy

[nerdieforpedro]

👀

Now…hot damn. 🥵

First of all, a sad Dieter is an open Dieter to some TLC to his little D. (I’m so sorry - that joke is so bad.)

But loved it! 🥰 A perfect little smuttle.

Washed Up Has-Been: a Dieter Bravo one shot

Dieter Bravo x F!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: soft!Dieter, sweet!Dieter, smut, angst, bodily insecurities, reader is plus sized but no other physical attributes are described, Dieter is a little chubby as well, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (m receiving), mention of sex toys, fluff? (gasp!), did I forget anything? I know next to nothing about the film industry, don’t judge me :(

Word Count: 2,800

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and comment if you wish! 💜🙂

——

Dieter Bravo had not been the same since Cliff Beasts 6.

What did they call it? Losing your spark? Your mojo? Your moxy? Whatever it was called, he’d lost it, along with his marbles… if he ever had any to begin with, and he was sure many would agree he hadn’t.

The reviews were bad, abhorrent, really. ‘Dieter Bravo as Gio Ricci baffling’, ‘Bravo couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag’, ‘I can’t believe this man has an Oscar’, ‘Did he get his Italian accent at an Olive Garden?’, on and on the critics wailed and lambasted.

He’d had a mental break shortly after the premier, firing everyone he could in his vicinity — his publicist, his hair stylist and manicurist, hell, even his agent of twenty five years. He’d hired a new one, of course, a potential script FedExed to his door that morning, fist curled and white knuckled in anger around the thick stack of papers as he perched himself like a sentient gargoyle on his couch, in the tattered clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week.

A dad. They wanted him to play a fucking dad, some sort of buddy comedy family film opposite Dwayne Johnson, it might be a good move for your career, buddy, his agent had explained. But seriously, him? Hollywood heart throb Dieter Bravo, reduced to playing someone’s bumbling father, opposite THE FUCKING ROCK?

He couldn’t believe it.

He had put on some weight since his last film, sure, but that was no reason or excuse to allow himself to be typecasted as a dad.

Or was it the ever persistent graying in his hair and beard? The laugh lines? The crow’s feet?

‘Dieter Bravo is a washed up has-been’ the internet screamed at him daily, leading him to drown himself in an endless stream of drugs and alcohol…more so than he was already doing, anyway.

He was barely a functioning person. A husk of his former self, he could no longer get it up, unsure whether to blame the drugs or his steadily fleeting mental health, and even putting brush to canvas felt more like a chore than an escape nowadays. He’d become a hermit in his own home, the ghastly, aging 1970s mid-century horror he resided in the Hollywood Hills, that he thought was amazing when he originally bought it a decade ago.

Well, much like him, older things fall apart, and the house was a piece of shit, which was apt.

He had hired you as his assistant and he was so vague as to what that entailed that you were sort of a jack of all trades as far as helping was concerned, acting as his maid, his cook, the middle man to screen his calls, his emails, so on and so forth. Hell, you even took care of the large python he’d bought ‘because it looked cool’, that he was now too scared to touch, himself.

You did it all, and although he never properly expressed as much, he was more grateful for you than he let on.

He always found you pretty, too. Beautiful, even, and not in the fake way he’d grown used to, living in Hollywood. You were kind, sweet, and uncorrupted by a crueler world, always happy and eager to assist him with whatever he needed.

And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of you sheathed around his cock was the only thing that could even get him half hard anymore.

When you arrive for the day, you find him on his couch, glowering at what you can only assume is another bad script, graying hair disheveled and curling away from his skull, teeth gritted in disdain. A look you had come to recognize and were more than familiar with.

“Let me take that to the garbage for you,” you offer, as you normally do in these situations, stepping forward to reach for the offending script.

His eyes clock the way your breasts sway when you walk, the roundness of your belly, the plushness of your arms. He can’t help but stare; he wants to bury himself in you and stay there forever.

He swallows, moving the script away from your extended hand and tucking it behind a cushion, distracted by your body.

“No — no, it’s okay,” he replies and his voice feels like gravel in his throat, realizing he hasn’t spoken all day until now.

Although the script sucks and he doesn’t want to do it, he needs the money. “Thanks.”

You notice his eyes on you and you sit, leaving about a foot of space between you to maintain a modicum of professionalism, observing the sadness behind his dark brown eyes and knowing this has been the norm for several months now but still hating it for what it is.

“What’s on the docket for today?” you ask him and he shrugs, unhelpfully, his lips pulled into a frown, shadows staining the lines of his face. You haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“I can… make you some hot tea?” you ask, looking down at the schedule in your lap, of which nothing is jotted down for the day.

He shakes his head, carding a hand through his hair. “No. I’m out of tea.”

You chew your lip. “Okay… well, then I guess I’m running to the store today. I have a list already, but can you think of anything else?”

Once again, he shakes his head. “No. I’ll just order it or something.”

You frown and tuck the schedule away, crossing your legs and turning to face him, contemplative.

“Then what do you want me to do today? You’re paying me to be here,” you note. “Unless you’d rather I go home.”

“No!” he damn near shouts, making you jump, and he immediately regrets his lack of impulse control. His gaze traverses your subtle cleavage and you clear your throat, heat warming your skin. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be alone right now. Can we just hang out?” he queries.

“Dieter, are you okay?” you question and he shakes his head in response.

“No.” A single word that says so much more than that. It pulls at your heart strings, seeing him like this. “I — I’m a nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody, you’re Oscar winner Dieter fucking Bravo,” you counter, and he snorts, picking at some dry skin on his ankle.

“Yeah, Dieter fucking Bravo, the aging has-been who can’t act his way out of a paper bag,” he snorts.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to take away your internet access so you can’t read all the mean tweets about yourself,” you threaten.

“You wouldn’t.”

“One call to your financial advisor and I would and could,” you retort and Dieter scoffs, trying to remember if he’d fired him yet or not.

You cross your arms and flop back against the worn and flattened couch cushions, eyeing him smugly.

The movement pushes your chest up and out, his gaze on you once again and he isn’t subtle about it this time. You clear your throat and stir, staring back at his soft, plush lips.

“Dieter—“

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and the spontaneity of it catches you off guard, your jaw hanging agape in disbelief and confusion.

“…What?”

It had been months since anyone had touched him, had wanted to touch him, and now, as he stares at your body and smells your light vanilla perfume, after the shitty week he’s had, he needs to be touched, even if only briefly.

“Come… here,” he repeats, more dogged than before, and in spite of yourself, despite how unprofessional it is, you find yourself scooting forward.

He grabs your hips when you’re within reach and drags you the rest of the way, pulling the cushion partially off the couch in the process, a small yelp of surprise escaping your lungs as he softly grips your face to bring his lips to yours.

They’re plush, dry, lightly chapped and he tastes a little like whiskey and weed, but you don’t really mind, his coarse, wiry mustache scratching and tickling against your nose.

Suddenly, with a soft groan in the back of his throat, his hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast, and you break the kiss, looking down to where his arm disappears beneath the fabric, shock settling over your features.

“Dee… are you… are you sure?” you ask. You don’t exactly look like the people Dieter had been confirmed dating in the past, and you feel a wave of trepidation, your self conscious nature bubbling to the surface. You’ve always felt Dieter Bravo was more than a little out of your league.

Not that you’re dating him, but, you know.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure,” he tuts and kisses you again, rougher this time, palming your breast, making your cunt throb.

He groans. You’re so good to him, always taking such good care of him, and you feel exactly the way he thought you would, warm and luscious and supple, his dick already fighting with the seam of his pajama pants, the first time in weeks.

And you’ve wanted this, too, as long as you’ve worked for him, never confessing your feelings for fear of losing your job. You never imagined Dieter fucking Bravo would feel the same way about you.

You know Dee needs this, you need this, and you want to make him feel good.

You brush a hand over his hardening cock and he damn near bucks himself straight off the couch with a grunt and a sharply uttered, “Fuck” against your lips. You grin into his mouth at how much composure he’s already lost from so few touches.

You pull away after a moment and scoot off the couch, sinking onto your knees in front of him, nestling yourself between his broad thighs.

He watches you, rigid cock tremoring in his pants at the sight, the outline of it clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “You… you don’t have to…” His voice is thick, haggard.

“Let me take care of you, Dee,” you mewl as you nuzzle your face against the squishy paunch of his stomach, lifting his shirt to plant small, reverent kisses in a circle around his belly button. He giggles and flinches at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry — ticklish,” he explains and you smile, placing a few more kisses there, more delicate than the ones that preceded them, trailing a line from his navel to the thick swathe of hair leading to his crotch.

Despite the pounds he’s put on recently, he doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable in front of you, eyes darkening as he drinks you in visually, lips tight and parted, breaths growing deeper in the barrel of his chest.

You look up and from your current perspective, he’s all wild haired and broad shouldered, panting, your cunt clenching with desire as you eye him with a wry grin.

You smooth his shirt down over his belly and move your face to the hard bulge below, nosing the bulk of it through the fabric and inhaling his natural scent, thick and musky and masculine in your nostrils. You both groan in unison.

“Dear god,” he grunts, “I feel like I’m about to— aaaaugh— fucking bust already.”

“Save it for my mouth, at least,” you snip and his head rolls back against the cushion at your words, the one with the sag in the middle where his neck always rests, eyes sliding shut.

“You’re so good for me,” he pants softly, already so close to falling apart, “I take you for granted and I’m sorry.”

“Dieter, shh.” You find the stretchy waistband of his striped trousers and drag them down his hips, not all surprised to see he’s gone commando, cock springing free from the cage of fabric, uncut and dribbling against the drag of soft cotton. He’s girthy, and you’ve never seen one intact in the flesh before — literally — a small puff of air escaping your lips, taking in the sight of him for a few seconds before coming to your senses.

“Is everything alr—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off when you unexpectedly cup his heavy balls in your palm and lick a slow stripe up his length with the flat of your tongue, his hips quivering and bucking involuntarily. “Shit—“

You grin, humming satisfactorily to yourself and continue to tease him, his hands finding your hair, fingers twisting at the roots as the rings he insists on wearing get caught in the strands, pulling ever so slightly. You moan.

You feel incredible, your tongue working his most sensitive areas, and he’s having a hard time holding it together, torso heaving above you, tiny whimpers departing his lips, and he hasn’t even entered your mouth yet.

You sense how much trouble he’s having at keeping himself in check, so you back off a touch to give him a momentary reprieve, shifting to kiss along the meat of his inner thighs, nipping at the tiny elephant tattoos etched into his skin as you do so.

He cups one hand on the back of your neck, watching you through half-lidded eyes, your lips like pure velvet and heaven.

He’s already forgotten about the shitty script tucked into the couch, about the bad reviews and the critics with their cruel, baseless quips. Faded away to nothingness, akin to what he experiences when he’s completely blitzed, negative thoughts dissolving to the back of his mind to be discarded, and for now, for the moment, the only thing that matters is you, your beauty, and how well you take care of him.

After what seems like an eternity of small, worshipping, teasing touches to the insides of his thighs and the rim of his belly, your lips return to his cock, lapping at the precum that’s beaded up at the slit before taking him into your mouth, hand fisted at the base as you work him into your throat.

He’s impervious at this point to keep his hips flush against the couch, shuddering into your mouth as you take him and pushing further down your throat, not entirely on purpose, moaning as the wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Wanna— fuck your pussy next time— with a vibrating plug in your ass,” he grunts, hardly able to string a single cohesive thought together, making your cunt throb and slick leak into the cradle of your panties.

Dieter wasn’t one to shy away from toys, and in fact had an entire drawer full of them, which you had accidentally stumbled upon one day when putting away some of his clothes; everything from butt plugs to cock rings to flesh lights with multiple attachments and bondage gear.

You steady his hips with your hands and hold him in place as best you can, difficult with how much stronger he is than you, jaw stretching to fit him, the musky tang of him flooding your tastebuds.

You steadily rock your head up and down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, and you can feel the veins running the length of his shaft pulsating against your tongue, feel the way his balls tighten as he edges ever closer to the precipice.

He’s wanted you, needed you, for so long, that he can’t contain himself much longer. His hips begin to stutter and you feel his body growing taut, hear his breaths growing shallow and haggard, fingers curling against your scalp.

“I’m… I’m gonna… fucking cum,” he grunts deep in his chest. That’s all the warning he allows before his hips stall and he lets out a visceral growl of pleasure, spilling a hot and heavy load across your tongue, some of it seeping out at the edges and dribbling down his thighs until you’re able to steady yourself.

You hold him in your mouth until you feel the very last drop hit the back of your throat, slowly pulling off only when you feel him starting to go soft.

“You should really clean up this awful mess you’ve made,” Dieter taunts when you sit back to catch your breath, watching the cocktail of spend and saliva slide down his tan skin.

You grin and tip your head forward to obediently lap at the escaped fluids. He groans as he savors the delicious sight of you, affectionately brushing his fingers through your hair as you do so.

After a moment, you rise from the ground, your knees cracking from the exertion, joining him on the couch as he tugs his pajama bottoms back up his hips.

He snakes an arm around the small of your back and kisses you, deep and full, moaning when he tastes remnants of himself on your tongue.

He grins against your lips and then rises, yanking you off the couch and giggling along with you when you pass him a perplexed look.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pleased to see him happy and relaxed again after all this time, to actually see him smiling.

“You took care of me, so I’m going to take care of you. You’re familiar with my special drawer, aren’t you?”

—

FIN. xx

[hawks-soup]

A Day with your Friends

A/N: Baby’s first smuttle (and fic) please be gentle. Also this is based off @libiraki​ boys! She is a writing inspiration to me. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Degradation, Humiliation, Misogyny, Dubcon/Noncon. 

Pairings: Hawks / Shigaraki / Dabi x Reader

You should have known, really, you should have.. but it never failed to surprise you on how purely disgusting and sick-minded the people you hung around could be. Sure they were villains, murdered people, did petty small and large crimes, everything bad in the sense.. But you’d think being a part of their little gang would give you some relief from their behavior. Treat you with a bit of respect since you were team members ya know? “Pft Awee, c’mon doll we were just joking, don’t get your panties in a fucking twist!” Dabi rasped from across the room, snickers of delight joining his.

How wrong you were, but again, you knew and was used to it by now. 

_______________

“It was just a little pinch doll.. Didn’t mean nothing by it, just having a bit of fun is all. Right Shiggy? Bird boy?” Dabi purred out to you, Hawks comments of agreement following suit and a grunt from the leader himself.

“Oh I’m sure she liked it.. Just too flustered to admit it. Wouldn’t wear such revealing clothes around us if she didn’t want us to touch her.” Came Shigaraki’s low tone, nursing the drink he was given by his two male partners, who’d already finished off theirs.

Now Dabi and Shigaraki were one thing to deal with together. If anything Shiggy dear would roll his eyes and just ignore his burnt partners jabs at teasing you, never caring to give him the satisfaction of knowing they were on good enough terms to help torment you.. But with Hawks joining the team and hanging around the two, it’s like Shiggy was opened to the idea that messing with you was actually pretty fucking fun with the two playing with you. 

So now, he joined in the fun of making nasty remarks and grabbing at you like they did. Pulling at your shirt, tugging your skirt up, pinching any exposed skin.. Really, you wish he’d turn back into the hermit that stared at you every once in a while he once was and leave Dabi to being the only one that preyed on you, cause at least by himself he got bored. Now there were 3 of them on your heels. And whenever you’d complain to Kurogiri - hell even AFO whenever you got the chance - they gave the simple answer of ‘boys will be boys, little one.’ They are dealing with that time in their life ‘no they weren’t, they weren’t fucking teenagers popping boners whenever a girl breathed their way’, and they aren’t doing much harm are they? It’s typical for a guy to pick on the girl he’s attracted to, let them be and just try to deal with it.

“Come on baby bird.. We didn’t mean anything by it, come back to us.. I’ll let you sit on my lap and we can have an exclusive fan meet right here~.” The perverted bird brained male purred. You could hear a whistle after it, and assumed Dabi. Hawks.. Was interesting. Sometimes he came off as that billboard hero and would show some compassion, but flushed it right down the toilet when he got too comfortable. Who would have known he was a gross pervert along with the rest? Making sexual comments and too comfortably rubbing at an exposed skin you could offer. And with the way Dabi egged him on, he started to cross boundaries like smacking at your ass, and on the worst of days, using his feather to pull down your skirt whenever given the chance. You could have sworn you heard a camera shutter, but the bastard was quick enough to put away his phone before you could press him on it. But still, you couldn’t help but keep your rose-colored glasses on to the fact he was your favorite hero.. Or at least your hero crush. While you didn’t like heroes, you had to admit you were like any other girl who saw an attractive guy that could give an award winning smile. A little star-struck you could say.

“Yeah doll, come sit on his lap. Aren’t you a fan? This is a pretty big offer here. Hell, I’ll let you even sit on mine after.” “As if. And if you three are done, I’d like to leave now.”  You made your way out the kitchen to ‘throw away some trash’, but was really an excuse just to get away from them for a moment without them stopping you. You didn’t dare go back over to them though, opting to stand against the doorway of the kitchen that peered into the living rooming where they all sat. They’d pressured you into joining them at Dabi’s place to ‘hang around’ and ‘get to know your favorite hero crush’, and in your naiveness of believing their words of letting you hang around and fan over Hawks - despite your working in partner of villain status - you fell prey to being trapped in the run down apartment with them making sure you didn’t escape.

“What?? Awe com’on we just got here! Don’t run away yet little girl.” Dabi gave a fake pout. “I promise we won’t touch you anymore, feather. Just come back okay?” That charming smile and soft pat to the empty space on the couch between the two of them after. Shigaraki has yet to speak, more so one to get handsy rather than talk the talk like the other two.

“I.. don’t know. Do you guys promise to behave?” “We promise dove, just come back.” “We’ll be good dollface, let’s get back to having fun.” Naive at best, you poor fool.

_______________

Hands all over you, you just knew it would happen but it was your fault really for going back. Your shirt lifted up to expose your chest and skirt way over on across the floor after being carelessly tossed away. 

“You dress like this just to get us to notice you, don’t ya?” Too hot hands rubbing the pebbled nips as you were forced onto his lap, legs spread over his to leave you open for the rest.

“Fuck little bird, you always let them do this to you? And I thought I was special. Guess you are nothing but a common whore for us to play with like they say. You aren’t even in my lap, some fan you are.” Fake disappointment in his tone, but really he was enjoying rubbing at your clothed slit. Trying to wiggle his fingers into the sides of the fabric and get to your petaled flesh. Sitting right beside you both and pressed up as much as he could be. Shigaraki was near your legs - you could tell - breathing hard against your knee as his rough hand smoothed over your leg, the other rubbing your sock covered toes. “She’s nothing but a slut, bet she want’s to fuck her way to the top like the leech harlot she is. She’s always coming into my room, she wants me to do something to her.” He rasped, now licking at your knee with his wet tongue. He was drooling and it started to soak your socks.

“I’m just checking on you like Kurogiri as-a-AH! Stop!” Dabi’s fingers pinched harder, his other now yanking up at your panties to make them wedge into your pussy and between the lips. “Damn ain’t that cute. Bird brain, take a picture for me won’t you?” “Already on it my friend.. Fuck, you have a cute pussy. I can’t wait to use it. I bet you’re fucking tight, even with you being a little whore and all.” Shutters of the camera clicking every few seconds, telling he got a few and at different angles. His free hand spreading at your lips, tugging the tightened fabric over to the side, and even pressing his fingers to the entrance. Making sure to capture every move he made. “N-no guys seriously stop! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I wanna go home, please!” You cried, tears starting to leak down your cheeks the more violated and humiliated you felt. You didn’t like this feeling, your body may have been responding but god did this feel so wrong. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, aren’t you glad your favorite hero is giving you such special attention? You wear the cutest clothes around me, you wanted me to touch you.” “She wears these clothes everyday around us. She’s a little kitty in heat I bet. Besides, it’s your fault really. You should know better to hang around men all by yourself dressed like this.. Really, you want this I can tell.” Dabi purred into your ear, his grip and grabbing getting rougher now.

Your soft pleas of ‘no’s’ were ignored when you felt a finger dig it’s way deep into your slick heat. You cursed yourself for enjoying how the thick fingers explored and stretched you, deep humiliation bubbling in your tummy at their laughs and enjoyment from your embarrassment. You didn’t like this… You wanted them to stop and let you go. You needed a bath to wash away their touch.

“Your body knows what it wants. You’re such a dedicated fan aren’t you? You’re doing so good for me baby bird. Being our little slut, just for us only.” Hawks praise.. Felt so good. It ran shivers all up and down your body, causing you to mewl the more his big digits squished into your heat. Gods you couldn’t stop crying though, your brain knowing how fucked up this was. Even though your body felt pleasure, you still felt so dirty and wrong. The ‘stop’s’ and ‘no’s’ didn’t end though, your brain knew better than to give in to what your nerves felt.. This didn’t feel good, and you couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes, hoping for it to be over soon.

“Hey you fucking creep, be useful and hold the camera. Record her or something. Add some content to that spank bank you got on your computer, ya?” Dabi grunted behind you, bucking his hips up to steady you more firmly against his chest, causing that leathery bulge to buck against you. While one hand remained tormenting you poor tender tits, the other ran down to your cunny, rubbing at your little clit and adding more stimulation to the already thrusting fingers of Hawks.

“Fuck off asshat. Don’t got a spank bank..” Shigaraki mumbled from below, but snatched the camera from Hawks hand anyways and turned on the record function. Though even then he was still licking at your legs and rubbing his red-tipped member with his free hand, leaking pre-cum all over his hand and your foot. Was that camera truly angled? He didn’t know nor care, he just wanted to fucking cum. Assholes probably wouldn't send this to him anyways. “Better not be fucking shaky cause you can’t stop beating your meat, fucking virgin. Don’t wanna hear your desperate breathing either so keep it down.” Dabi teased, using his foot to kick at Shigaraki’s side with a laugh. And from the red tinting the pale cheeks, he knew he had gotten to him like always. “Fucking shut UP!” “What!? You’re the creep jacking it to her fucking feet when you got a perfectly wet cunt in your face! The hells wrong with you, ya’ nasty bastard?” 

“Can you both shut up and focus on that task at hand, giving my fan the spotlight. Looks like she’s close to… That right birdy? Gonna come for me… for us? You been dressing up like this to get our attention right? And now look at you, you got it and so much more~.” My how his fingers felt good, and you hated it. They had been nothing but perverted freaks towards you. Having their dirty gazes upon you and their hands fleeting on your clothes and body whenever you got within arm's reach of them. Only for your body to betray you in this way, what the hell was wrong with you..? Even with the rising knot in your stomach, you still hated the feeling.

“Come on sweet thing, let go for us.. Give us a show.” Dabi whispered in your ear, that that’s all it took paired with their stimulating fingers to ruin you. The spasm in your hips interrupts caused you to buck a little and gasp but cutting yourself off with the bite of a lip. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing you cum along with seeing it.  “Nngh!” The feeling is unfair, unable to stop the jet of liquid that shoots out from in between your legs as you curl and uncurl your toes, trying hard to close your legs but your own body not allowing it. 

After having a moment to let your body somewhat settle, your hazy eyes looked down at the mess you made. Due to Shigaraki being in the line of fire, your fluids had gotten all over his face. He looked stunned for a moment, his body freezing up like a deer caught in headlights. You were a little worried that maybe he was angry, but once you felt the warm seeping into your socks you could tell he stiffened up cause he came… from humping your fucking feet. And to add onto it, your cum directly targeting him pushed him over the edge in a sudden pace he didn’t set.

Your eyes then flicker up to the two degenerates holding you at hearing the sound of coos, “Oh my, would look at that, little one just squirted.” Hawks teased, thankfully moving his fingers out of your sopping cunt onto your tummy, giving it soft grazes of affection. Dabi on the other hand wasn’t feeling as loving, giving you abused pussy a wet slap which caused you to jump. “Cumming all over him, and we’re the ones doing all the work.” Dabi tsk’ed, giving Shigaraki a sneer before kicking him again. “Enjoying it asshole? I hope you savor that, it’s the only time you’ll have a bitch squirt on you.” Which in turn caused Shigaraki to hiss at him and swipe at his leg that narrowly pulled away. He didn’t bother to respond though, not trusting his voice to come out without a stammer. He had to admit, the warm liquid on his face felt fucking hot, and after a quick swipe of his tongue, it tasted good.

All it took was for you to try to squirm your way out of Dabi’s lap to snap them all back to focusing on you. Shigaraki now dropping the phone to place both hands on your knees, Dabi’s rough hands finding your hips and digging into them, and Hawks gently grabbing your chin and pulling it to his direction. Those golden orbs hyper focused on you, almost like he was looking at a piece of meat. “Oh no where do you think you’re going feather? It would be unfair to not help us get off when we helped you. Come on, be a good little fan for me? I’ll even buy you something pretty after, for being such a good girl.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that for sure. All you could do is give a small nod before feeling warm lips pressed to yours. “Atta girl.”

[queenimaginez]

Sexx in the City (Brian May x reader smuttle)

You wake up in the middle of the intersection of 7th Avenue and 44th Street. You see a very hot and somewhat sexxy man walking down the street of New York. You shake hands with him, compliment his boobs, and move on, never thinking about him ever again.

You go back to your hotel after your nap. You walk to the front desk, as whores do, and ask John Deacon, who had been scuttling behind the front desk, of your room had yet been cleaned after last night’s Holy Orgy of Religious Value. He says no, your room has been bought by a local New York City Cardinal of the Catholic Church. You are temporarily stunned by how turned on you are. Then you snap out of it, slap John, and get on your way back to the room.

You go to open the door, then realize your error. You slip into the privacy of the service elevator, strip, and go back to your room.

Inside the room sits a man wearing nothing but long transparent robes and a name tag reading “Father (or ‘Daddy’, depending on your comfort level)”. The name tag is long and phalically shaped, and you infer that behind it is a dick of notable dimensions. The cardinal, Brian Harold May, stands up, allowing his dick to flop out from under the name tag. You realize how flaccid he is and are again impressed by the notable dimensions of the cardinal’s penis.

Naturally you have sex, because you are a god damn whore you piece of garbage. (a/n: you don’t have to fuck everything you see you slut)

Brian Harold May had not used protection, and as the natural consequence you catch his salamander sickness. You slither home to the suburbs and live out the rest of your sad life deprived of sexx and Brian.

[hellimagines]

Us--Billy Hargrove (smut)

Masterlist

Request: “Can irequest a billy hargrove smut imagine where he gets his gorgeous girlfriend (Steve's sister) pregnant, their scared but so happy and leads to hot smuttl and fluff?” @harduy & “Hi! could you do one with billy where him and the reader are having an argument over something stupid but then the reader gets turned on bc she thinks he’s hot when he’s mad”

Summary: After finding out you’re pregnant, you have to tell the two most important people in your life; your brother and your boyfriend.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, angst

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!reader, brother!Steve Harrington x sister!Harrington (not incest lmfao)

Word Count: 2,668

A/N: I combined the two, but it’s not as angry/fighty as you probably would’ve hoped.

Your hands gripped the porcelain toilet bowl in front of you, resting your flushed forehead against the cool material. Your (e/c) eyes were squeezed shut in an attempt to block out another wave of nausea. Letting out a ragged breath, you reached up and flushed the handle, the remains of last night’s dinner disappearing down the toilet.  

“Fuck,” you moaned in despair, forcing your weak body to stand on shaky legs. It was only 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday- you shouldn’t be awake. But being 6 weeks pregnant, it was nothing new. You’d done an amazing job at hiding it for the past 2 weeks, but you knew you needed to tell Steve soon… and Billy.

“(Y/N)? You okay?” Steve asked, his knuckles gently knocking on the outside of the bathroom door. You winced at the unexpected sound, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your grey sweater.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a little sick,” you responded, turning on the faucet so you could wash away the fatigue.

“Still?” Steve questioned after a moment of hesitation. “You’ve been sick for almost a week. Are you sure you don’t want me to see if dad can fly back early?”

“No!” you said quickly, your heart racing. “No, Steve. I’m fine, really. It’s not a big deal,” you tried to assure him, finally turning off the faucet and opening the bathroom door. Steve was stood outside, resting against the frame, his hair a wild mess and his eyes filled with worry.

“No, you’re not (Y/N). It’s not flu season, what’s going on?” Steve huffed, crossing his arms and barricading the door so you couldn’t leave. Steve already knew what was going on- he had seen the positive pregnancy test in the trash can before you had the chance to take it out yourself. But he wanted you to trust him enough to tell him yourself. However, it’d been 2 weeks already, and you still hadn’t told him. He knew you were dating Billy, and he wasn’t happy about it. But you’d made him see that the blond was changing and treating you well. You had told him about that immediately. So why couldn’t you tell him about this?

“I…” you began, unsure of how to tell him. He was gonna be mad, so, so mad. Steve had put so much faith and trust into you with this relationship. He hated Billy, and if he found out that he had knocked you up, Steve would kill him.

“You…?”

“I’m pregnant, Steve,” you finally blurted out with a heavy sigh. You weren’t looking at him- you had your head pointed down, your eyes trained on your socks. Steve didn’t say anything, but he nodded with a gentle sigh.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it, peanut?” he asked, and you snapped your head up in shock.

“Wha-?”

“I already knew, (Y/N/N). I saw the test about two weeks ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me,” he said. Your eyes widened in disbelief, but before you could respond, he had reached out to pull you into his chest. “I’m not mad. I’m shocked, yeah. I’m… confused, I guess. But I’m not mad. Does he know?” he questioned, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

“No,” you whimpered, tears beginning to well into your eyes as you gripped the back of his shirt. “I don’t know how to tell him. He’ll leave me. He’s never wanted kids, because of his dad. He doesn’t want to be like his dad. Steve, he’s gonna leave me,” you cried, and Steve pulled you closer, running his fingers through your (h/c) hair.

“Hey, shh,” he cooed, trying to get you to calm down. He didn’t do know jack shit about babies (all he knew were the middle schoolers he’d been watching over the past few months, and they were like mini teenagers), but he did know stress wasn’t good for a baby. “You have to tell him, (Y/N). No matter what happens, you have to. Whether you choose to keep it or not, is between you and him. But you have to tell him. Soon. He’s going to find out either way, and he’ll be even more pissed if he finds out you kept this from him,” Steve reasoned, pulling you back slightly so he could look down at you. You looked up at him, and nodded slowly.

“Okay… okay I will. I’ll invite him over today, if that’s okay?” you asked quietly, and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going over to babysit Dustin and the others at 6. If anything happens, call me, okay?” he demanded.

“I will,” you promised, and Steve smiled, planting a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead.

Later that night, Billy showed up around 6:15, and now the two of you were curled up on your couch in the living room. Alien was playing on the T.V, Billy totally engrossed in the film, while you were more focused on him. You were tucked into his side, your knees folded into your side, with his arm draped around you. Your fingers mindlessly played with his bronze St.Christopher medallion as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I’m pregnant,” you randomly blurted out, not taking your eyes off of his necklace. The finger that had been twirling through your hair stopped for a second, before the whole arm was being retracted from you. The ferocity at which he had pulled back his arm caused you to fall to the side, away from him.

“What did you say?” he asked lowly, his blue eyes looking down at you. You looked back at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“I uhm… I’m pregnant, Billy. I know, you don’t want kids. And I’m sorry, but this isn’t all my fault!” you cried, knowing better than to reach your hand out to hold onto his.

“You’re damn right I don’t!” he yelled, rushing to his feet. You didn’t flinch at the shout, instead standing yourself.

“Billy, would you just listen to me!” you pleaded, staring at his back. His shoulders flexed, before finally, he turned around. “You’re not like you’re dad, okay? You’re not. We’re three months away from graduating. You want to go back to California, right? I’ll go with you. With my dad’s money, we can get an apartment, go to college, get a job, and take care of each other. I know we’re only 18, and that this isn’t ideal. But if you love me, like you said you did… you won’t leave me because of this. And if you don’t want the baby, that’s fine too, we can figure it out. We can figure all of this out. But I can’t do it on my own, I can’t do it without you,” you whimpered, breaking down. Tears streamed down your face, and it took all of your strength not to collapse onto the couch beside you. Billy’s shoulders heaved up and down as he watched you, taking in your shaking body. He slowly walked forward, his eyes darting between your own.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said, putting his hands on the side of your face so he could rest your foreheads together. You sniffled, trying to control your tears. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or what’s inside you. I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed.

“As long as you stay, you can’t hurt me. I promise,” you assured, nudging your nose against his. Billy shook his head at the gesture, his mouth quirking up in a small smile. You tilted your head, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I won’t leave,” he promised, breaking the kiss. “We’ll have to talk about this with your dad, and with my dad and Susan… I don’t know how that’s going to go,” he admitted sadly, not wanting to think about the thought.

“I know, but we can worry about it later. Let’s focus on us,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. Billy moved his hands to rest on your hips, bringing you closer.

“Us,” he smiled, kissing you again, but with more passion, and more love.

Billy began backing the both of you up until your legs hit the couch, sending you falling onto it. Billy was quick to climb on top of you, connecting your lips once again. You wrapped your legs around his hips, giving the two of you more room on the couch, while Billy rested most of his body weight on his elbows. Before you could tangle your fingers in his blond hair, Billy briefly pulled away so he could remove his shirt, you following suit with your own. Billy ran his hands up your sides, placing open-mouthed kisses along your chest and neck. He didn’t leave any marks, but the sensation was enough to make you shiver. Your hands fell down to his pants, your fingers quickly working to unbutton and unzip them. Billy let out a low hiss when you ran your hand over the bulge in his underwear, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. Billy pulled away again, but only so that he could undo your own pants, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the ground.

“I love you,” he whispered, bowing his head so he could kiss his way from your stomach to your chest. You weren’t sure if he was saying it to you, or the baby growing in your stomach, but either way, your heart fluttered.

“I love you too,” you hummed, pulling his chin up so you could kiss him.

Billy pulled you up, unhooking your bra and sliding the straps down your shoulders, tossing it with the other pile of clothes. Using your legs and your feet, you were able to shimmy Billy’s jeans a good portion of the way down, before allowing him to finish the job. He ran his hand over your stomach, humming softly into the kiss, before eventually moving his hand into your underwear. Your hips arched instantly, having missed the contact. You hadn’t been intimate in awhile- it’d been about three or four weeks. You were soaking wet, if the damp spot on your pink underwear was anything to go by.

“Fuck,” Billy moaned when his fingers dragged through your lips, the tips instantly feeling how wet you were for him without having to dive all the way in. “Missed me that much?” he grinned, staring down at you with a wicked smirk.

“You have no idea,” you huffed, not in the mood for much conversation.

You bucked your hips, his fingers finally hitting your clit. It wasn’t much, if anything a brush of a feather, but it was enough to make you sigh in pleasure. Billy passed the pad of his finger over the tip of your clit, barely touching it, watching your expressions closely. His pinky finger managed to escape the confines of your underwear, and he used it to drag over your underwear, pressing down slightly where he knew your entrance was. You were tired of this, you didn’t have the kind of patience for foreplay tonight. Without warning, you roughly shoved at his shoulder, causing him to fall backwards, his head landing on the arm rest. Billy’s eyebrows rose, a permanent smirk resting on his lips. Lifting yourself up, you grabbed at his boxers and tugged them off, adding them to the pile along with your own.

You paid no attention to his springing erection as you crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. His cock was laying directly underneath your cunt, your seeping wetness slicking his shaft just slightly. Rocking forward a bit, Billy’s hands flew up to grip your hips, his nails digging into your ass. His once ocean-blue eyes were now a dark navy, filled to the brim with lust as he racked your form. You rocked forward again, but more so than the last time, dragging your pussy from the tip of his cock, to the base, and then back to the tip.

“Princess,” Billy moaned, his thumbs rubbing over your hip bones. You took that as your cue. Picking yourself up so you were no longer rested on Billy, but now resting on your knees, you grabbed his cock, pumping your hand along it a few times. Your grinding had spread your own pre-cum along the shaft, so as you lowered yourself down, it wasn’t painful. You were tight though; you hadn’t been fucked in weeks. But you were also soaking wet, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Billy let out a lengthy moan, refraining from bucking his hips and shoving himself all the way inside you.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, grasping his shoulder tightly, finally settling down on his entire length.

“You’re so tight, baby girl,” Billy groaned, lifting his hand up to push some of your hair behind your ear.

You waited a minute, allowing yourself to adjust to the feeling of him again, before you began to move. Both of you moaned at the same time, your head tossing back as his cock hit deep within you. Billy’s hands left your hips, attaching themselves to your tits and giving them a rough squeeze. You cried out in pleasure, their sensitivity shocking you momentarily. Billy gave you a toothy grin even though you weren’t looking, and he began tweaking your perked nipples with his thumb and forefinger. Your nails scraped down his chest, rocking yourself forward and further into his grasp.

“Mm, fuck, hold on, gorgeous,” Billy huffed, and you looked down at him with narrowed eyes, challenging him to stop fucking you. Billy ignored the look, instead holding your sides so he could move himself into a sitting position. Your legs wrapped around his back, his mouth instantly latching onto your left nipple.

“Fuck, Billy,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving the blond locks a painful tug. Bouncing yourself on top of him, you could feel your orgasm approaching. “I’m close,” you warned, looking down at him. Billy pulled away from your tit to look up at you, grinning.

“I bet,” he snickered, nipping at your jaw. He held your body close to him, bucking his hips to meet your bounce, so that each time you would come down, he’d slam into you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your teeth sinking the base of his neck as your orgasm hit you full-throttle.

“Ah, fuck!” you yelled, the noise muffled by his skin. Your walls tightened around him, your eyes squeezing shut, as you rocked your body forward to drag out your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” Billy hissed, holding onto your ass as his own orgasm approached. With a few more thrusts, Billy tightened his hold on you, locking your body within his arms as he came inside you. Both of your bodies shuttered and bucked with the aftermath, riding out your orgasms. Slowly, you began to pull yourself off of him, whimpering from the sensitivity and the loss of contact. His cock fell free, but you stayed on his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not gonna leave, right?” you asked quietly, your voice hoarse. Billy ran his hand down your sweaty hair, pushing it out of your face again.

“Of course not, baby. I’m here for the long run, and we’ll figure this out together,” he said, kissing the side of your head and holding you close. Billy kicked his legs out and scooted down the couch, pulling you down as he laid back. “Go to sleep, princess. I’ll wake you up before Steve gets back,” he promised, and you couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of Steve walking in on the two of you, naked and asleep on the couch.

“Thank you,” you hummed, kissing the red bite-mark you had left on his shoulder, before closing your eyes and eventually allowing yourself to doze off.

[hellimagines]

Can irequest a billy hargrove smut imagine where he gets his gorgeous girlfriend (Steve's sister) pregnant, their scared but so happy and leads to hot smuttl and fluff?

Of course, added!