#writing request fill

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Hello, I have a Michael Kinsella x reader request. Mikey and you are fighting because you want to start a family with Michael, but he thinks it's too dangerous because of the family business. You have to go away for a few days and you stay at a friend's house. You find out that you are pregnant, but are very afraid to tell Mikey.

Hi Nonny!

Thank you so much for the request -- hope you like it!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Angst, Fluff (this has everything, y'all), Pregnancy, another additional surprise at the end.

Word Count: ~2800

A/N: Trying my hand at writing in 2nd person and not using Y/N -- let me know how y'all like it!

"...Fuckin' hell, love, ya feel so fuckin' perfect," your boyfriend, Michael Kinsella, groaned as he drove his long, thick cock in and out of you. "Yer cunt's always so good fer me."

"Mikey, darlin'." You were so close to the edge of ecstasy and just needed that tiny little push to get you there. "Need it, love, please."

Michael groaned, his hips stuttering slightly. "Love ta hear ya beg for me, pet, such a good lass."

You sucked in a breath, willing to do just about anything at that point as long as Michael would let you come for a second time. "Please, Michael, please. Need yer cock, love, wan' ta feel it deep inside me."

Michael grabbed onto the headboard and drove into you even harder. "Gonna make sure ya remember who this cunt belongs ta while yer' away, who it is tha' makes ya feel this good."

You whimpered, digging your nails into the hair on his chest. He had already littered your chest and inner thighs with an array of love bites before eating you out so damn thoroughly that your legs were still shaking. "Yes, Mikey, love, give it ta me." 

Michael thrust so deep into you that you were sure that you'd feel his cock inside you for days -- which is what you supposed he was going for. "Wan' ya ta think about wha' it feels like ta have me inside ya, pet," he growled as he repeatedly slammed into you. "Fillin' ya up with me cum until it's fuckin' drippin' outta ya. Don't wan' ya ta so much as look a' another man while yer' gone."

"Fuck -- yes, Mikey, fuckin' ruin me, love," you moaned. "Fuck a wee one inta me, show everyone that I belong ta ya."

The thought of carrying Michael's child inside of you was enough to send you hurtling over the edge. "Michael --"

"Shit --" Michael groaned out your name as he slammed into you one last time, releasing rope after rope of his hot seed inside your quivering cunt.

He reached down to circle your clit with his thumb, prolonging your orgasm until you were shaking with oversensitivity.

You weakly pushed at his chest even as your greedy cunt milked his cock of every last drop of cum that had been offered to it.

Michael collapsed on top of you, his cock twitching inside you as it was spent. "Fuckin' hell," he breathed, turning his face to nuzzle your neck.

You hummed as his beard scratched deliciously against your sensitive skin. "Mmm."

Michael leaned up and eased his way out of you, pressing a kiss to your lips before laying at your side.

You turned to face him. You and Michael had been in the middle of a very important discussion about the future of your relationship when he had distracted you with sex. "Are we at least goin' ta talk about it?"

Michael shook his head. "There's nothin' ta talk about. I don' wan' another baby."

Your eyes welled with tears. The topic had been a point of contention between you and Michael for the past several months. As much as you loved Anna like she was your own, you wanted a biological child -- specifically with Michael, who had been staunchly refusing to even consider having another kid but wouldn't give you a reason why. "You don' wan' another baby, or you don' wan' a baby with me?"

Michael said your name mournfully. "Pet--"

You shook your head. "Don' ya 'pet' me, Michael Kinsella. I'm good enough ta keep in yer bed and ta tell that yer' not gonna let another man even so much as look a' me, but ya can' give me a reason why ya don' wan' ta marry or have a baby with me."

You climbed out of bed. "I have ta get ready ta go or else I'll miss my flight."

Michael followed you. "Wait, love--"

You pointed at him angrily. "Do not, Michael. I don' even wan' ta hear whatever half-arse excuse yer' tryin' ta come up with."

You slammed the bathroom door and locked it, and when you came out after taking a brief shower Michael was nowhere to be found. Instead there was a note on your bed in Michael's neat script. I'm sorry, love. Can we talk about it after you get back? I'll explain everything, I promise.

You sighed, the anger draining and leaving a deep sense of disappointment inside you. You knew Michael truly did love you -- getting married or having a baby together wouldn't change that.

You dressed then grabbed your phone off of the charger and sent Michael a message. Yes, we can talk when I get back.

A reply came immediately. Thank ya.

Where are ya?

You looked up as Michael appeared in the doorway. "I was givin' ya some space," he explained. "Wasn't sure if ya wanted ta tell me goodbye or not before ya left fer yer holiday."

You shook your head. "Of course I wouldn't leave without tellin' ya goodbye."

Michael walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. "A month is too long ta have ta go without ya."

You nodded. "I'm sorry, love, but I promised Caitlin that I'd come visit her and it's been years since we saw each other in person."

"I know, I'm just gonna miss ya." Michael gave you a kiss. "Have a safe trip, darlin'. Call me when you get there?"

You nodded again. "I will, Mikey. And be careful while I'm gone, okay?"

"I will, pet."

A cab honked outside.

You grabbed your suitcase. "That's my ride. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Michael helped you bring your suitcase downstairs and out to the waiting cab, then gave you one last kiss before you climbed into the cab and headed to the airport.

Your best friend squealed your name as she saw you come around the corner at Boston International airport.

She wrapped her arms around you in a hug. "Hi!"

You hugged her back. "Cait, it's so good ta see ya."

"It's good to see you too. How was your flight?"

"It wasn' tha' bad. I got ta rest on tha plane, a' least."

You had met Caitlin in college when she had done a semester abroad in Ireland and had become immediate friends, staying in touch through everything life had thrown at the two of you.

Caitlin gave you a knowing smile. "Your hot Irishman been keeping you up at night?"

You grinned. One of the wonderful things about Caitlin was that the two of you could talk about literally anything. "He definitely kept me up this mornin', tha's fer sure."

Caitlin huffed out a laugh as you headed out towards her car. "Get it, girl."

You shook your head. You'd tell her about the rest of it over a glass of wine later. "So, how are things with ya?"

Caitlin snorted. "Well, the dating life is dryer than the Sahara desert, but at least work is going well."

She grinned. "I sold 2 more full manuscripts and another one just based on a synopsis."

You gasped. "Cait, tha's amazin'!"

Caitlin nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, thank you. Gotta actually write that one now, but hey, it's a good problem to have."

"I'm so proud of ya."

Caitlin smiled. "So tell me more about Mr. Perfect."

You shook your head with a chuckle. "Oh he's far from perfect. We actually had a big row right before I left."

Caitlin's face dropped. "Oh no, what happened?"

You shook your head as you loaded your suitcase in the backseat and the two of you got into her car. "I tried bringin' up maybe havin' a baby but he flat-out refused, no explanation, no discussin' it, nothin'. And then when I pressed him about it he distracted me with sex -- fuckin' phenomenal sex, but still, he said tha' there was nothin' ta discuss. He avoids the topic of marriage too -- we were talking with his cousin tha other day and he said somethin' about Michael makin' an honest woman outta me and Michael jus' froze and changed tha subject."

You sighed. "He acts all jealous and possessive sometimes -- and I don' mean in a bad way, like he's never threatened me or accused me of anythin', it's more like he likes ta mark me up durin' sex and talk about how I'm his -- but yet he completely avoids all talk of commitment."

Caitlin frowned. "Do you think he's afraid of commitment?"

"I don' know. Maybe it's jus' me tha' he doesn't want ta commit ta." You shook your head. "Anyway, we had a row, then I left ta go shower and get ready fer my flight, and when I came back out of tha ensuite there was a note on tha bed apologizin' and askin' if we could talk about it after I got back from my holiday."

"Well that's something, at least."

You shook your head again. "Yeah, if he actually decides ta talk instead of jus' distractin' me again."

You powered your phone up. "Actually, I promised Michael I'd let him know when I arrived. Let me do tha'."

You sent Michael a text. Arrived in Boston. Caitlin and I are on our way to her flat.

A few seconds later, your phone chimed with a reply. Okay. Love ya.

Love ya too. Have a good night.

You put your phone back in your pocket. 

Caitlin looked over at you. "So what are you going to do if Michael doesn't want to commit?"

You sighed. "I don' know. I wan' a child, but if he doesn't then I guess I'll have ta give up tha' dream."

Caitlin shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know you always wanted to be a mom."

"Don' get me wrong, I love Anna, but I guess I don' really feel like she's mine. She's always been sweet ta me, but it's definitely been in more of a stepmum kind of way rather than a mum mum kind of way." You took a deep breath. "Michael isn't even tha' close ta her, ta be honest."

Caitlin reached over and patted your arm. "Well, no worrying about all that while you're here. We're going to catch up and see the sights and have fun and drink cheap wine like back in our college days."

You huffed out a laugh. "Exactly." Nothing was going to ruin your holiday.

"Ugh, why does my body hate me?" you bemoaned three weeks later. You had been feeling tired and ill for the past couple of days and had barely moved from Caitlin's sofa. "It's all this American food ya been feedin' me. Even my tits hurt."

Caitlin chuckled sympathetically. "I have some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, want me to get it for you?"

You waved her off and got up. "Nah, tha's alright. I'll grab it. I have ta wee again anyway."

You walked into Caitlin's bathroom and opened her medicine cabinet, grabbing the bottle of acetaminophen.

You froze as something caught your eye. "Cait? What's today's date?"

"The 18th, why?"

You stared at the box of tampons as you did some mental math. "Oh, fuck. Oh no. Oh no, no no no..."

An hour later you sat on Caitlin's sofa, a positive pregnancy test in your hands. You had been staring at the word pregnant for the past ten minutes. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. How could I have been so forgetful?

You had made a calendar note in your phone to give yourself your birth control injection every three months but had somehow missed the last one, which was supposed to have been almost two months ago, and it wasn't like you and Michael had exactly been careful otherwise.

You were torn between sheer terror and absolute elation. Michael had made it explicitly clear that he didn't want any more children, but you already felt fiercely protective of the life growing inside you.

"Are you okay?" Caitlin asked gently.

You blinked up at her. "What the fuck am I going ta do? Michael is goin' ta be so angry -- he's goin' ta think I got pregnant on purpose." 

You let out a shaky breath. "I don' wan' ta lose him, Cait, but I don' wan' ta lose this child either."

"Well you're going to have to tell him eventually, and maybe even make a decision between the two of them." Caitlin squeezed your hand. "No matter what you decide though, I'm here for you 100%."

You wrapped your arms around Caitlin in a hug. "Thanks, Cait."

You had a big decision to make.

Michael, we need ta talk, you recited to yourself as you walked up the driveway to your and Michael's shared home. There's something important I have ta tell ya.

You had kept in touch with Michael the entire time you were gone, of course, but there was no way you were going to tell him that you were pregnant over the phone.

You stepped inside and gasped. 

LED candles and rose petals lined the entryway, making a red carpet leading to the stairwell.

Michael stood at the end of it, a single white rose in his hand. "Hi, love," he said.

You blinked at him. "Hi."

He approached you. "I need ta tell ya something."

You opened your mouth to say "okay" but what came out was "I'm pregnant."

Michael froze. "Wha' did you just say?"

You grimaced. That definitely wasn't how you had planned on breaking the news to him. "I said I'm pregnant."

"How long?"

"Probably six weeks or so? I just found out a couple of days ago though, I hadn't been feeling well and I thought it was something I had ate, but then I realized my cycle was late, and I --" You faltered at the unreadable expression on Michael's face and looked down at the floor. "I realized I had missed my injection, but I didn't mean ta, Mikey. I wasn't tryin' ta get pregnant, I swear ta ya."

Your eyes welled with tears. "I understand if yer' angry with me, but I want ta keep this baby. I won' expect ya ta be responsible for it or anythin', so ya don' have ta worry about me comin' after ya for support --"

"Yer' leavin' me?" 

You looked up at Michael in surprise, his broken tone shattering both your heart and your resolve. "No, no, I -- I just figured ya wouldn't wan' me now since ya made it clear tha' ya don' wan' another baby."

"It's not tha' I don' want a child with ya, love, I --" Michael shook his head. "Here, come sit with me."

He led you over to the sofa.

You sat, watching him as he gathered his thoughts. 

He took a deep breath. "The reason I told ya I didn' wan' another baby is because my work -- my life is dangerous, and I don' wan' ta put anyone else in harm's way. I've already lost Jamie ta this life and I almost lost Anna because of it, I don' wan' ta lose another child."

Your heart broke for him. "Mikey…"

Michael shook his head. "However, I've had a lot of time ta think over tha past month and I've decided tha' my fear of losing another child is not worth losing you over."

He slid off of the sofa and got down on one knee.

You reeled back. "Michael, wha' tha fuck are ya doin'?"

He took your hand in his and reached into his pants pocket. "Somethin' I shoulda done long ago."

He pulled out a ring. "I actually bought this tha day after our first date. I knew right then tha' I wanted ta spend tha rest of my life with ya, I've just been waitin' fer tha right time ta give it ta ya."

He breathed out your name. "Will ya marry me, love?"

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes once again. "Yes, yes, of course, Mikey, I love ya so much."

Michael slid the ring onto your finger and gave you a kiss. "I love ya too."

He sat back on the sofa and pulled you into his lap, his hand creeping under your shirt to caress your stomach. "So, yer' carryin' my child in there, hmm?"

You giggled. "Yeah, if the very clear 'pregnant' on the test I took at Caitlin's was any indication."

He stood and carried you towards the stairs. "Maybe we should go try again, jus' ta make sure."

[fakakta-art]

Batfam afikoman hunt for a request! Happy Passover!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: guns

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, gun kink, p in v sex, unprotected bc dont be fcking dumb!, hand kink as well kind of, f receiving oral and handjob, blowjob, being fucked by the gun (silencer), mild degradation but also praise, mentions of drug dealing, somehow still soft rafe idk yall im unable to write rafe being anything but a softie

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks

your eyes widen at the glint of black metal in the low lighting, watching the way rafe works the rag over the piece. you control your gasp when you realize what it is that you’re holding, but you can’t help but take a step back in shock. 

you stumble, not realizing how close you were to the hallway table that decorates your home. rafe looks up at the noise, his eyes meeting yours. you can’t tell what emotion crosses his face. he simply sets the handgun down on the coffee table, still partially disassembled.

“rafe-” you begin, but you don’t have the words to finish as he stands up, stalking over to you, his usually comforting figure suddenly imposing when shrouded in the darkness of night.

“baby.” rafe says softly, taking your face in his large hands. “what are you doing awake?” “i-i heard you come in, and i waited for you to come lay down and when you didn’t i came to check on you.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but in the silence of your house, rafe hears you clear as day. he stands still, and you take the moment to apologize, “i’m sorry.”

rafe lets out a deep breath, his face reading the guilt of your apology. “it’s okay.” he presses his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he holds you to him. it takes you a beat, but you wrap your arms around his waist in a tight embrace.

“come here.” rafe says after a moment, sliding his hand down your back and leading you into the living room instead of hiding in the hallway. you take cautious steps, eyes on the disassembled gun on the table. 

“sit down.” rafe keeps his voice gentle, but it’s a command, not a request. you sit down on the couch, and rafe slides next to you. he gives you a moment to look at the pieces of metal on the table. 

you know why rafe has a gun. he tries to keep that part of his life silent, but you know he helps run the drug scene on the islands of the outer banks. you’ve never been exposed to the violent nature of what he does but you’ve helped him count money and sort packages. he protects you when it comes to the actual sale, you haven’t even met one of his clients, at least not that you know of.

“it’s okay rafe, i knew you had a gun.” you say. you’ve seen him discreetly tuck it into his waistband when you’ve been out, and did not fail to notice the way he keeps it on his bedside table when he thinks it’s too dark for you to see at night.

“but you haven’t really seen it before baby.” rafe picks up what looks to be the frame of the gun, and he turns it over, showing you all the different sides before placing it on your lap. he gives a nod of your head and you pick it up, surprised that the disassembled part is still so heavy.

“should i- should i learn how to…?” you ask, not having the heart to tell him that you want to, because if anything happens to rafe, you want to be able to protect him as well, even though he doesn’t need it.

“if you want to, i’ll teach you.” rafe presses a kiss to your cheek, taking the metal back out of your hand. he begins to explain the different pieces of the gun and what they do as he reassembles it. your eyes track the movements of his hands, his slender fingers moving each part into place. you bite your lip and press your thighs together, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by rafe.

“are you turned on, princess?” he asks, no judgment in his voice, rather fascination from how you, his sweet girlfriend, can be so turned on by his gun as he sets it back down on the table.

“no!” you squeal, which just gives you away even more. “pants off.” rafe commands, and you know better than to go against him. you stand up off the couch for a millisecond to shove your pants down to your ankles then sit back down, keeping your thighs locked closed together.

“that is not what i meant, and you know it.” rafe commands, placing his hands on your waist and twisting you so you’re facing him. “if you’re not going to be good, i’m just going to have to do this myself.” he guides you backwards so you’re laying your head against the arm of the couch. he takes one ankle and slides it off the edge of the cushion while moving the other one to rest against the back of the couch, spreading you open wide.

“are you still going to deny being turned on?” he asks, eyes on your underwear sticking to your pussy, wet patch clearly visible.

you smartly decide to stay quiet, and rafe gives a little hum of approval at your choice to no longer continue to deny, knowing the amounts of pleasure he can bring you as he pushes his thumb over where he knows your clit is, not wasting any time as he rubs it over the material.

you let out a moan, back arching off the couch as he touches you. all tiredness you previously felt from suddenly waking up in the middle of the night is going.

rafe smiles down at you, seeing his girl so easily and quickly thrown into pleasure just with one of his fingers. he moves faster, watching the wet patch grow even bigger. he drags his thumb down, pressing against the spot until his thumb presses slightly into your hole, the fabric of your underwear still acting as a barrier.

“n-no, let me take them off, please.” you beg, but it doesn’t dissuade from doing exactly what you expected, gripping your underwear with both hands and literally tearing them straight down the center like the material was tissue paper. 

you grumble something about liking that pair, and rafe calms you by pressing a kiss to your knee that’s hooked over the side of the couch. “i’ll buy you another pair.”

he kisses down your thigh, occasionally nipping at your skin until he reaches your cunt, taking a deep inhale of your scent before sticking his tongue out, lapping at your slickness as he gathers it all onto his tongue.

you try your best to keep your hips still, thighs already burning slightly from being spread so wide. you moan rafes name as his tongue slides up away from your hole and over your clit, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive bud before pulling back far too early.

you watch as rafe picks the gun up off the table, making your eyes go wide.

“my sweet princess, turned on by my gun.” he turns it over in his hand, and you don’t fail to notice that he’s left several parts on the table, probably whatever interior mechanism that makes it actually fire so his toying with it remains safe.

“who would have known that the innocent good girl i first starting dating would turn into such a slut?” he grabs the silencer off the table, slotting it onto the end of the gun. your eyes watch in fascination at his movements.

“my own personal whore. you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” rafe questions, running the tip of the silencer against your thigh, slowly dragging it closer to your center.

“you’d even let me fuck you with my gun.” his words make you gasp, coupled by the smooth metal of the silencer coming into contact with your dripping folds. it’s so cold that you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body.

rafe continues to move the silencer against you, partly to tease, partly to get it covered in your juices. “you’re gonna let me, right princess?”

rafe looks to you as you silently nod, worried if you open your mouth you’ll start to beg, beg for him to put the gun inside of you. rafe presses it against your hole, and your eyes widen at how big it feels, like two of his fingers are trying to enter you, but you’re slick enough that when you take a breath to relax, he’s able to push in, breaking the ring of your hole.

“fuck!” you whine, rafe not giving you any time to get used to the sensation as he continues pushing it inside of you, until the entire silencer is buried in your pussy, the barrel of the gun far too large to fit inside.

“just breathe.” rafe mumbles softly, wanting to continue but not wanting to hurt you. you follow his instructions, sliding your eyes closed as you get used to the foreign object.

when rafe can tell your body has calmed down, he pulls the gun out slightly, watching the way your wetness sticks to the metal before pushing it back inside of your body.

you lift your hips slightly to give some reprieve to your thigh muscles, as well as give rafe a better angle as he moves quicker, starting to thrust the gun against you.

his thumb comes back to your clit, now able to touch your bare skin and the pad of his finger feels burning hot compared to the coldness spreading from within you. rafe presses his thumb against you, keeping the intensity constant instead of rubbing. 

“there you go.” rafe smirks, “my good fucking slut.” 

his praise makes you glow, especially as your high starts to build from the way the silencer is pressing inside of you. the dirtiness of the action just pushes you even farther.

“gonna-” you warn, when suddenly rafes thumb is off your clit, the silencer halting all movement, lodged deep inside of you. 

“you ask permission to cum, slut.” rafe tells you, deciding to push you even harder.

“please, let me cum.” you beg, hands fisting the material of the couch.

“no.” rafe simply says, moving the gun again. “no, because my girl isn’t going to cum for some piece of metal. you’re going to wait until i’m done having my fun and then cum on my cock, understood?” “y-yes.” you nod, flopping your head against the couch as it repeatedly presses inside of you, your clit pulsating at the need to release everything you have inside.

“please.” you sob, feeling tears slide down your cheeks, unable to hold back your impending orgasm much longer.

rafe pulls the gun out of your, making your cry out, missing the sensation instantly. “no, no, rafe please.” you beg.

“shush!” he says, delivering a slap to your inner thigh. “if you were patient at all you’d realize i’m going to fuck you now.” you sit up, blinking your eyes open in the low lighting as rafe tugs his shirt over his head. you take the moment to unbutton your pajama top as you watch him stand, unbuttoning and sliding off his jeans and underwear at the same time.

your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, unable to control yourself as you sit up, giving your legs a reprieve from the stretch as you take him into your mouth, sucking the head of rafes cock as your eyes roll back in your head, tasting the saltiness of his precum against your tongue.

“can’t resist, can you?” rafe laughs, knowing how much of an oral fixation you have.

you hum around his cock, bobbing your head but not taking him anywhere near fully into your mouth, enjoying playing with the head of his cock with your tongue.

you kitten lick at his tip repetitively, waiting for rafe to inevitably pull you off to fuck you. he lets you have your fun for a bit longer before tapping the back of your head. 

you pull off with a satisfied smile, laying back and resuming the same position on the couch, spreading your cunt wide to show him that you’ve gotten even wetter from sucking him off.

“my pretty slut.” rafe smiles, kneeling on the couch between your legs. he grabs a throw pillow that was discarded onto the floor at some point, shoving it under your hips to raise your cunt up to the perfect angle to fuck.

rafe rubs his cock against you before jutting his hips forward, sinking fully into you in one fluid motion. you let out a curse, boobs bouncing as he immediately starts up a rhythm.

your cunt clenches tightly around him, rafes moans coming to match your own as he moves within you, feeling your tight walls, remembering that his gun was just where his cock currently is. 

he picks the gun up off the table, still gleaming with your slick. he sticks his tongue out, licking up the side. “you taste so good.” he moans, keeping his free hand on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts.

“want to taste yourself?” he asks, but doesn’t even give you a moment to respond before pressing the silencer against your tongue, mouth already open from moaning.

you wrap your lips around the metal, indeed tasting yourself on it. you suck at the gun, keeping your eyes on rafe as you do.

rafe moans, feeling his cock swell inside of you. he would keep fucking you all night, but he can’t hold himself back any longer as he moves faster, plunging as deep inside of you as he possibly can.

“fuck, please let me cum!” you cry out, reaching a hand down to rub at your clit, your fingers not feeling as good as rafes, but doing the job.

“wait for me.” is all rafe can gasp out, watching you immediately take the gun back into your mouth after asking.

rafe lasts a few more hard thrusts before he’s releasing inside of you, and you follow quickly, rubbing yourself to completion as you feel your cunt flooding with cum.

rafe continues to gently thrust throughout your orgasms, both coming down together as he sets the gun back on the table. he collapses forward, his naked body pressing against your bare one.

“god, you really are the most perfect slut.” rafe mumbles, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he slowly pulls out, knowing his cum is going to leak all over the decorative pillow you’re sat on, liking the idea of ruining another piece of furniture from his insatiable need for you.

“love you.” you whisper, tilting your head to the side to give his hair a kiss.

rafe leans up, pressing his lips against yours in a fierce kiss, saying the words for him.

“why don’t you go upstairs and wait for me, sweetheart?” he asks, sitting up and giving you a hand to help you sit as well, your body burning as the exhaustion sets back in. “i’ll be up in a minute, i have to clean my gun again because someone got it all dirty.”

[wreckedandpolemic]

6,98,99. Sorry for the multiple numbers, they just work so well together.

Also love your work!💜

my kink is karma - matty healy

(mdni) in which your ex wants to give you a birthday treat. too bad for your boyfriend. 2099 words.

warnings: cheating, semi-public sex, daddy kink

Firstly, you’d like to say that you’re not a spiteful person, thank you very much. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to run into your ex drinking alone while celebrating your birthday with your friends and your shiny, new boyfriend. Matty salutes you with his glass when you spot him, and you ignore him pointedly. He won’t fucking leave it alone, though — that’s always been his problem.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine,” says Matty, low in your ear as you go to order yourself another drink at the bar. You hope he doesn’t notice the shudder that runs through you at the sound of his voice. “Whatever she’s having on my tab, yeah?” he adds smoothly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll have a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve got,” you grin. What? He’s got the money for it, and you aren’t going to turn down a free drink on your birthday, of all days. Matty shrugs when the bartender looks at him to confirm, and she hands you the bottle in a cooler.

You turn to leave, go back to your friends, but Matty takes hold of your wrist, gentle enough that you could break out of it. Something stops you, though. “Happy birthday,” he mutters. “Thought about callin’, but…” he blows out a breath. “The way we left things, I didn’t know if you’d wanna hear from me.”

Feigning casualness, you shrug, pretending like the reminder of your heart-wrenching breakup doesn’t tear at you all over again. “Yeah… Well, you’re here now,” you say matter-of-factly. “How’ve you been?” you ask, despite knowing the answer. Over the last six months, you’ve taken some kind of twisted pleasure in keeping tabs on him, in watching his life fall apart.

The two of you split in April, leaving you forced to move out of the apartment you loved that was in his name, nine days after you’d paid your half of the rent. June, he got arrested in a drunken bar fight; July crashed his car, the car he loved more than almost anything, leaving it completely written off; August, the girl he’d been seeing since suspiciously soon after your breakup left him with no warning. Meanwhile, you’ve had a promotion, gotten into the perfect relationship and everything is falling neatly into place.

Your reaction to him being around is involuntary, you tell yourself, fucking Pavlovian. You were together for three fucking years, of course your body still responds to him. It’s still learning what it’s like to live without him. Matty sighs, and you jolt out of your reverie as you remember you asked him a question. “Not great,” he admits. “Drinkin’ alone on a Friday night not tip you off?” he says, bitterness tracing his tone. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been great,” you say blithely. “I’m making great money, I’m in love, properly this time,” you can’t resist adding. “And you just bought me a bottle of champagne and told me everything sucks for you! What more could a girl want on her birthday?”

Matty scoffs. “You’re still the same,” he says coolly. “Bratty when you’re not getting fucked right, huh?” he adds, your stomach swooping at his words.

You don’t know what makes you admit it, some heady combination of mixed drinks and Matty’s presence for the first time in months overcoming all sense, but you murmur, “M’not. He’s not as good as you. S’the only thing I miss.” You try to weaken the admission.

Matty’s eyes light up, and you groan internally. “Is that so?” His grip tightens on your wrist and you stumble towards him when he tugs on it, a sickening pulse of arousal dripping down your spine. “Got everything you want, huh? Even down to your perfect little boyfriend. But you think about me when he’s fucking you, don’t you?” he breathes, something hard and dangerous in his tone, your heart thudding traitorously as he leans closer. 

“I… That’s not true.” you say, but the wavering of your voice betrays you, and he smirks wickedly.

“You can’t lie to me, baby. I know you too well.” The statement lodges in your throat like you’ve dry-swallowed a pill, the truth ringing disgustingly clear. “What do you say? You want one last good fuck, for old times’ sake?”

You should pull away. You need to pull away. You have to pull away. But you can’t. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you say. Matty’s eyes darken, but you know he took note of the most crucial element first: it wasn’t a refusal.

“I never cheated on you,” Matty says seriously. “I did a lot of other shit, I know I did, but not that. Never that.”

You swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“One more time. One more fuck. I need you out of my system,” you breathe, and you could almost cum from the filthy look on his face. Guiltily, you slink to the bathroom, casting furtive glances around and praying nobody spots you trailing after Matty and slipping behind a locked door.

Matty slams you against the door the second it shuts, devouring you in a harsh kiss, teeth and tongue sliding together almost violently. Having his hands on you again feels horrifyingly good, nauseatingly familiar. He’s hard, you can feel as he presses his body against yours, and you whimper pathetically into his mouth. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Matty groans, like he can’t help himself. “Makes me sick. Been fuckin’ dying for you, baby.”

“So hurry up,” you snap. “I know you’re here alone, but I have people who care, and not much time before one of them notices I’m missing.”

“Such a brat,” Matty teases. “Need a good fuck to shut you up, yeah? S’alright, baby. Daddy’s here now. Gonna give you what you need.” The bottom falls out of your stomach and his words, a helpless, strangled moan escaping you. “Oh, missed your Daddy, have you, darling? Not given your little boyfriend my name, right?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “He… he wouldn’t understand. You’re my Daddy, couldn’t replace you.” Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your mind dizzy with desire, the words spilling from your lips without permission.

You’d forgotten how it feels with him, how Matty gets you sick with lust, thick and palpable in the air of the small room. “Good girl,” he croons. “Bend over for Daddy, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You obey, the sight of your reflection sickening. You look fucked-out already, flushed red and panting. Matty’s hands come to rest on your hips, stroking appreciatively over the curve of your ass and pushing your too-short dress up around your hips. Torturously slow, he pulls your panties off, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. “I’m keeping these,” he says, slipping the scrap of lace into his pocket. “Something to remember you by, yeah?”

Wrapped up in his touch as you were, the reminder that this is a one-time thing shocks you like you’ve been doused with ice water. Right now, you don’t have a fucking clue why you even broke up, not when his fingers are so achingly close to your dripping core. “God, Matty, please!” you choke out, widening your legs desperately. 

“Give me a minute, baby. Missed this pretty cunt so much. Gotta make sure I don’t forget a thing, if this is the last time m’gonna get to have you.” He brushes his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the barest touch over your swollen clit. Meeting your gaze in the dingy mirror, Matty wraps his lips around his wet fingers, moaning exaggeratedly as he sucks them clean. “God, missed the way you taste, darling. Sweetest fucking girl I’ve ever had,” he promises, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

You squirm, cold porcelain biting into your thighs. You hear the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, and before you can process, Matty slides into you, your knees buckling at the sudden fullness. “F-fuck,” you whimper, the feeling of being wholly surrounded by him familiar as he thrusts deep into you, pleasure cascading over your bones.

“God, you feel so fucking good, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until the only word you remember is my name,” Matty promises, shushing you soothingly as you whimper. His hips slam against yours, ecstasy flooding your veins as your thighs bash against the sink. He fists a hand in your hair, dragging you up to meet your own gaze in the mirror. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how gorgeous you are, falling apart on my dick. Right where you should be, hm?” he murmurs, heat flooding your belly as you watch yourself take his cock over and over. “He could never fuck you like this, huh? Whose girl are you, really?”

“M’yours, Daddy. Yours, still yours, all yours,” you babble, cunt clenching wantonly around him as his smirk grows and his pace speeds. You moan horrifyingly loud when he hits that spot inside of you, too dizzy with desire to control your noises.

“Shh, baby, shh. Try not to be so noisy, yeah? Can’t let anyone know what we’re doin’ in here, that this lying fucking bastard has you split open and begging on his cock.” He throws your words from your final fight back in your face, pinching your clit meanly and fucking you deep. You can’t hold back another whimpering scream, and he scoffs. “Needy little whore can’t keep quiet, huh?” he murmurs, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth. Eagerly, you suck on them, your moans muffled as saliva pools under your tongue.

Heat scorches through you, every thrust of Matty’s hips and grunt that falls from his lips sending an illicit spark of pure pleasure racing up your spine. You can’t think, can barely breathe, choked in desperate lust that drips out of you and soaks him. He’s right, you can’t remember anything but him, his name circling your head, denting your brain out of shape. Nothing but Matty, Matty, Matty. “This fuckin’ pussy drives me insane, baby. Always so wet for me, so wet for your Daddy. Could have this all the time, if you wanted.”

His words cut through the fog in your mind as Matty slides his fingers free from your mouth to let you answer. “What do you mean?” you stammer, your disloyal heart skipping a beat.

“We had issues, yeah. But we were good together,” Matty murmurs, rubbing distracting circles into your clit, training you into giving the right response. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last six months. About us.” He slams his hips against yours on the final word, pleasure roiling in your stomach, every muscle in your body stringing taut. “I want another try. I know it would be better this time. I’d be better,” he promises, nails digging possessively into your hips.

“Matty, I–” You’re at a loss for words. His face crumples almost imperceptibly; if you weren’t so attuned to him, you wouldn’t have known.

“S’okay, baby. Fucked you too dumb to answer, I get it. You wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” You nod wildly, his circles over your clit getting tighter and faster and you whimper helplessly, but you don’t miss how he’s stopped meeting your eyes.

Ecstasy winds around your veins, sticky, hot desire pinning you still as Matty fucks into you. “Fuck, Daddy, m’gonna–” you gasp out, the tension in your body finally breaking, stars going supernova behind your eyelids. Your legs tremble, your entire body going limp as waves of pleasure swirl in your stomach and buffet your organs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Matty murmurs soothingly. “Daddy’s got you. Whenever you want, I’ll be here,” he promises, and a split-second later you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, the feeling of his cum spilling in your cunt sorely missing.

It takes a few moments before your legs have stopped shaking enough for you to stand, Matty supporting your waist as you clutch your abused muscles. “We should… I should get back out there,” you say, raking your fingers through your hair in an effort to tame it. You both look well-fucked, the question of how you’re going to explain your absence rattling around your mind. Matty meets your eyes one last time, looking over his shoulder as he unlocks the door.

“When you get bored of him, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

[sadesluvr]

Hi, if you're fine with it could you write doctor!William and patient!fem!reader and William fucks the reader in her hospital bed after lying to her about something. What it is, up to you. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thanks for the respectful ask Anon! Happy new year!!🎉 The irony of this was that the day before I got this req I’d literally read a fic for another fandom that was similar to the concept lmao. I’m sorry it’s taken a while, thanks for being patient! :)

WARNING: Reader is a little naive, or has amnesia (You chose). Below the cut will contain dub-con, manipulation and abuse of power. Minors DNI, and read at your own discretion. 

“Dr Afton…Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re under my care after all…”

You’d come to Dr Afton a few weeks ago, concerned with the fact that you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. You’d tried essential oils, music, even pills - all to no avail. Now, not only could you not sleep, but you were even more tired than before, becoming no stranger to headaches and irritability.

William had almost cum in his pants when you’d come back to him, eyes heavy and on the brink of tears; desperate and pleading for him to ‘fix’ you. In that moment, he almost felt bad that he’d given you stimulants, the same given to people who suffered from narcolepsy.

Today you were lying flat on the sterile medical beds, face up as your legs were spread in stirrups. Dr Afton had requested you to take off your underwear, and your pussy was exposed to the cool of the room. You were a little embarrassed, but luckily a sheet was draped over the bottom half, so you couldn’t see the man’s face.

“What is it?” you asked slowly, hearing as the man clicked his flashlight off. He sighed and hummed, and you’d come to know that it wasn’t one of promise.

“Forgive me for asking, sweetheart, but…How many sexual partners have you had?” he said, clearing his throat.

You swallowed.

“Um…One?” you said unsurely, biting your lip. “It was a while ago…On prom night,”

“Hm,” William said, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. He didn’t know how you’d made it through three years of college without sex, but he was certainly glad. “I think I’ve found the source of your problem…”

“Really?” you squealed, and William adjusted his glasses in anticipation. Even though he’d locked the door, there was still a risk. If a nurse was to try and wander in, it would certainly ring alarm bells. He’d have to make this quick.

“Uh-huh,” he sang, and you were pleased to hear the glee in his voice. Dr Afton took his job so seriously! “Sweetheart, the source of your insomnia isn’t from the head - well, not directly - but your hormones. Most specifically, your endocrine system,”

“Oh,” you said. You remembered that stuff from high school. But how did that have anything to do with sleeping?

William sighed.

“The secret to a good night's rest is simply through achieving orgasm. You haven’t had sex in four years - and I assume you don’t masturbate - and your hormones are all messed up because of it. Upon reaching orgasm, we release oxytocin - the happy hormone - which in turn makes us relaxed, and then sleepy. Not to mention the physical movement that comes with sex,”

You were in shock. How could it have been so simple? How were you going to start having these, let alone every night so that you could sleep?

“Dr Afton, I –”

“No worrying about it, darling,” he hummed, beginning to shush you. “I’ve got just the thing…”

He was oh-so quiet as he zipped down his pants, his already hard cock jutting out of the hole. Taking off his gloves, he gave himself a few languid strokes before placing a hand on your knee, peeking over the cloth to get a glimpse at you. You were staring up at him with curious eyes, squirming slightly under his cold hands. It was different without his gloves.

“I’m just going to run a few tests, okay?” he smiled, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “It may hurt, and it might feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s going to help, okay? Call my name if you want something, alright?”

You nodded.

“W-What is your name?” you said, suddenly shy. Calling a doctor by their first name felt strangely intimate. 

“William,” he said, nodding at you before he disappeared back under the sheet, placing his hands on your thighs to signal for you to spread them apart. As you did, he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a moment to rub his nub; pink and leaking with precum, along your folds. He let out a low groan as he felt you tremble.

“Just one of my tools, baby,” he assured you. “Don’t worry, it’s sterile, of course,”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the feeling. Whatever William was using was warm, slightly sticky and thick, yet it was making you feel good. You felt your thighs begin to quiver in anticipation, a hot, pulsing sensation rushing to your privates, in turn making it easier for William’s tool to glide across your pussy.

He hummed at the feeling of you growing wetter. Slyly, he placed his thumb onto your clit, beginning to rub it in circles as he pushed his head into you without warning, making you gasp. He hissed as he sank deeper into you, hands gripping the styrofoam of the chair, his body looming over you slightly. He could see the top of your face, eyebrows furrowed to the ceiling at the strange sensation, your lips slightly parted and wet. He longed to be able to kiss them; to hold you a little closer as he took all of you, but time was of the essence.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Almost there…”

He grumbled, choking back a moan as he bottomed into you, glancing down to admire your skin-on-skin contact. You were so fucking tight, and wet, that he was surprised he hadn’t broken you - much more he cum right on the stop.

“W-William…” you moaned, covering your mouth at the whorish sound. “It’s — The tool…It’s big…”

“Does it feel good?” was all he said, and he smirked as you nodded, a small whine escaping your mouth as you did. The man chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “This is gonna put you to sleep baby, I promise,”

He withdrew his hips before slamming them back into you, your head lolling against the rest. The sudden pressure was alarming, but it felt amazing, and as if a miracle had taken place you could feel your body relaxing already. Your breasts moved with the contact under the plastic garment, and you reached up to cup them, in turn making you feel even better. William grinned, watching in awe as your pussy took him completely, keeping up with the frantic movements from his greedy thrusts. He wished you were a virgin, that he could’ve popped your cherry right there and then, hugging and comforting you at the fact that you’d bled. Still, you only having one man (boy was the far more accurate term) was far better than two, and he could tell that you moaned and gripped him that this was what you were missing in your life. Desperate to bring you to your peak, he rubbed your clit eagerly, the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly bringing you to a point of overstimulation. Your raw nipples rubbed against the material of your gown, creating a friction that both pleasured you and made the nubs harden further, practically displaying themselves for William. A thumb on your clit turned into an index finger in your pussy, gently moving against the man’s own base. William’s grunts, the filling, yet rhythmic sensation and the build up of tears in your eyes at your sheer emotion was building up to too much.

It was bittersweet agony when you came. You didn’t know for how long, but you knew you blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your chest heaved and legs quivered. For a moment, William was nothing, just a figment of your imagination, but a wet, sticky sensation filling your cunt and dripping down your thighs brought you back to life.

Your limbs felt lifeless, eyes heavy, and a warm feeling spread across your body. Dr Afton had been right all along.

“I hope you feel better, sweetheart,” he said, words nothing but a jumble in your brain as you came down from your high. “Do note that this is only a temporary fix – I’ll need to see you in three days for an immediate checkup. From there, we’ll need to work out a year-long schedule. It’s imperative I monitor your progress.”

[mcdynamite]

If you asked most people who know Eddie Munson, they’d tell you that he's a loud, theatrical man. They might tell you that he's always bouncing around, full of chaotic energy and wild ideas, eager to share what's on his mind with anyone who will listen.

And for the most part, they would be right.

But Steve Harrington knows that there's more to it than that.

Steve knows that Eddie is loud, most of the time, except for when he feels most comfortable.

It's a realization that comes to Steve slowly in the weeks following their final battle against Vecna and the Upside Down, during the time they spend sharing a hospital room while they recover from their bat bites.

Steve is there to witness Eddie's cacophonous reunion with the kids - rife with hollering and boisterous laughter and some very stern (if relieved) scolding from Erica Sinclair. But he's also there to see the way Eddie motions Dustin over once everyone settles down and begins to trickle out of the room. Steve watches as Eddie pulls Dustin into his arms and mutters something Steve can't hear into the kid's ear - something that makes Dustin smile with teary eyes.

It's the first time Steve has seen such a soft display of emotion from Eddie Munson, and he finds it strangely fascinating.

Then, it's the same with Wayne a few days later, when he's finally allowed to visit Eddie in the hospital. Steve expects something a bit dramatic from Hawkins' most notorious Dungeon Master, to be honest, but it's not dramatic at all. The reunion between the Munson men is soft and subdued, nothing but quiet sentiments Steve can't quite make out. Eddie is still as full of energy as ever, but with Wayne around, he loses that frantic edge. And so Steve eventually realizes...

The more comfortable Eddie is, the less jagged his edges get. Loud, raucous laughter becomes soft chuckles. Booming declarations give way to quiet promises. Eddie Munson is softer when he feels safest, and Steve quickly decides that while he likes any and all versions of Eddie, he's particularly fond of this one - the one who's shed his emotional armor in favor of comfort, and perhaps a little vulnerability.

He wants to see more of this Eddie - the one who seems closest to Eddie's truest self.

And overtime, Steve gets his wish.

It starts with quiet, late-night conversations filling the space between their beds in the hospital, when they finally begin to dismantle every misguided preconceived notion they've ever had about each other in order to forge a friendship from the ground up.

Once they're released back into the real world, it continues. There are soft, amused comments murmured into Steve's ear during movie nights, and cheeky observations about the kids they practically share custody of on days at the arcade. There are relaxed conversations over a joint passed back and forth on nights when neither of them can sleep at three in the morning.

The closer they get, the softer Eddie becomes, and it only becomes more obvious when they finally stop dancing around each other and start dating.

Eddie's voice is careful and kind when he asks, "Can I kiss you?" for the first time.

He's practically whispering a week later when they both admit to wanting more than just a casual fling with each other.

When Steve makes him come for the first time, Eddie is all soft gasps and quiet whimpers... breathlessly chanting Steve's name like a prayer. And when Eddie returns the favor later that night, it's with the sweetest, filthiest things whispered into Steve's ear, working him into a frenzy until it takes him over the edge.

And four months into their relationship, one of their most important milestones is said so quietly, Steve almost misses it entirely.

They're laying in bed together, chatting away just like they do almost every night. Steve is basking in the feeling of Eddie's arms around him...of Eddie's bare chest against his back as they trade warmth back and forth. He always loves cuddling with Eddie, but he thinks these nights are his favorites. The ones when he gets to be the little spoon, tucked safely into the arms of the boy he thinks of first every morning and last every night.

Eddie tells him about the way Mike wouldn't stop bitching about his sunburn during the D&D campaign Eddie ran with the boys earlier today, and Steve can't help but roll his eyes.

"God, I told him to use sunscreen yesterday!" Steve insists. Behind him, Eddie snorts. "I did! I told all of them to use it, and most of them listened to me, but did Michael Wheeler? Of course not, because that little shit is hellbent on giving me grays before I turn thirty!"

There's another snort from Eddie - this one louder than the first - and Steve playfully smacks his arm where it's wrapped around Steve's abdomen. Eddie just catches his hand and traces circles across the back of it with his thumb.

"This isn't some laughing matter, Munson!" Steve hisses. "We're talking about my hair, here!"

"Oh, woe be upon he who dares threaten the integrity of your glorious mane, my liege," Eddie drawls dramatically. He nuzzles into the aforementioned mane and presses a soft kiss to the spot just behind Steve's ear.

"Exactly, see? You get it," Steve scoffs, choosing to ignore the sarcasm in his boyfriend's voice.

Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck and makes a vague humming sound.

"Seriously, though, next time, I'm putting sunscreen in a spray bottle and ambushing him with it, or some shit. I’ll be damned if he survived the apocalypse just so his pasty ass could be taken out by the sun," Steve continues to vent.

Eddie just laughs softly. "You're ridiculous, sweetheart," he murmurs. Steve feels him brush his lips against Steve's pulse point and has to suppress a shiver.

"Yes, and?" Steve huffs, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"You're ridiculous," Eddie repeats. Then, his voice goes impossibly soft - barely a whisper, and a bit hesitant - but Steve feels the words ghost over the shell of his ear. "And I love you."

Steve's breath hitches just as Eddie seems to realize the gravity of what he's let slip. Eddie's thumb, which has been rubbing gentle circles into the back of Steve's hand ever since he grabbed it a minute, suddenly pauses. For a moment, neither of them move.

It's Steve who unfreezes first, slowly rolling over until he's facing Eddie, still wrapped in his boyfriend's arms. He takes in Eddie's wide eyes and vaguely anxious expression before reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of Eddie's face.

Steve's voice is raspy when he finally manages to speak.

"You love me?" he asks hesitantly, hating the half of himself that's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he misheard. Maybe Eddie said something else. Or worse, maybe Eddie changed his mind immediately after saying it and is now regretting saying it in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time someone changed their mind about loving Steve, after all.

Eddie doesn't correct him, though, or take it back. Instead, he nods hesitantly, as though he's afraid Steve will hate him for it, and bites his lip.

"I- yeah," he says, still whispering. He looks terrified, and it makes Steve's heart ache. "Is that...okay?"

Steve wants to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Mostly, he wants to tell Eddie that it's more than okay - that he loves him, too, and has for a while now.

"Say it again," Steve begs, instead.

Eddie blinks, his gaze transforming into something so devastatingly tender that Steve doubts he'll ever recover.

"Stevie..." Eddie murmurs, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. His lips curl into a smile. Steve smiles back. "I love you."

Steve is only slightly embarrassed by the way his heart is rabbiting against his ribs, surely loud enough for his boyfriend to hear.. "Really?"

Eddie smiles and lets their noses brush. "Yeah, baby. I really do."

"Oh," Steve breathes. His disbelief finally gives way to wonder as he allows his hand to move on its own accord - fingertips brushing against the soft skin of Eddie's cheek. Reverently, he traces the shape of Eddie's nose, of his eyebrows, of the little scar on Eddie's temple that's only just begun to fade.

Eddie presses a barely-there kiss to the pads of Steve's fingers when they finally drag across his lips. The action leaves Steve feeling so fond it aches.

"I love you, too," Steve whispers, because it's the truth. He's not sure exactly when he started to fall in love with Eddie Munson, but he does know that he's never stopped. He thinks he'll probably keep falling in love with Eddie until the day he dies.

It's a disgustingly sweet sentiment, and Steve can't bring himself to care.

"Fuck, Eddie," he laughs, breathless. Eddie's eyes are shining with joy. With love. Steve moves closer, until their lips brush against each other when he murmurs, "Love you so much."

Steve's heart has never felt as full as it does right now - as it continues to feel when they collide in a flurry of heated skin, soft lips, and quiet words of adoration. It's not the first time they've had sex, but it's the first time it's felt like this - like being wholly and completely cared for, for the first time in his life. Steve has tears in his eyes by the time they collapse against each other, sated and utterly in love, and Eddie devotedly kisses the tears away when they begin to fall.

In the aftermath, once they've both been cleaned up and caught their breath, Eddie pulls Steve into his arms so Steve's head can rest on his scarred chest. The soft thump of Eddie's heartbeat beneath his ear - proof that they survived everything they've been through, and that their reward is this beautiful, brilliant love - brings a smile to Steve's face.

He turns his head and presses his lips to Eddie's chest, just above Eddie's heart. Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Love you, Eds," Steve murmurs, settling in and closing his eyes as sleep begins to beckon.

Eddie just holds him and runs nimble fingers through Steve's hair, bending to press a kiss to Steve's temple.

"Love you too, Stevie," Eddie whispers in his ear, voice perfectly, beautifully soft.

Written for the prompt "things you whispered in my ear" from this prompt request list I posted a couple of months ago! If you want to request another one of the prompts on the list, drop me an ask and I'll write it as soon as I can!

[amethystpath-writes]

Spare Him

Hello :) Could you do something where the hero and villain were lovers but the villain betrayed the hero somehow and now it’s super angsty and the hero is begging so hard for the villain to not do whatever they’re going to do (maybe getting on their knees to beg too, who knows) and it’s just SUPER ANGSTY :)) Sorry for the long ask, thank you very much and I love your writing!

A/N: As promised, although I feel like I filled this request before, here it is! Thank you for the kind words :)

******

"Why are you here?" Villain's tone was bored and cutting. Hero missed his tone before; soft, like a caress or a smooth fur blanket that Hero couldn't wait to curl into at the end of the day.

"Do they trust you?" Hero asked, and though she had just arrived, she thought she manipulated the situation so well. This was until Villain smiled, his lips splitting ever so slightly to reveal his sharp teeth. Hero never found them fitting until now as she stood below his pedestal.

There was unspoken conversation between the two of them, and Hero felt humiliated, even though Villain was the only person who understood. He had betrayed her and it hurt to say the very least.

Villain remained silent, and Hero knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her to keep talking, to keep asking questions, and to keep digging her own hole further into the ground at the face of his Council. They were lined up on either side of the throne room, surrounding her as she stood in front of Villain.

She obliged Villain's unspoken request. Hero would embarrass herself if it meant stopping him and his traitorous doings. "What are you doing this for?" She didn't want to say too much, didn't want to say something she would regret. Did his council know who stood before them aside from their own king?

"Elaborate."

But Hero couldn't, and Villain knew that. He knew who she was and why she was here even if she wouldn't state it aloud. He was playing a game with her, but this was dire to her.

Her hands were shaking. "I would like to request a private audience with you." The guard behind her held back a laugh; she could tell by the hot air on the back of her neck. It made her all too aware of how close he was standing. His presence was less threatening, however, than Villain's.

"It sounds as though you trust yourself less than me. You can't speak your mind in front of my council?" He raised a brow and gestured to the grandiose of the room, how everyone was listening, waiting to see why she had shown up- this girl who was alone in front of a king, and too afraid to speak.

Villain tapped his fingers against the arm of his throne. He still bore that half-amused smile. It made Hero's stomach churn, and for a moment, she had to stop herself from crying. His smile widened as if he could see the halted tears in her waterline.

However, his smile fell away in another moment, when he rolled his eyes, seemingly tired of his own game. As Hero concentrated on Villain's eyes, she realized they were no longer focused on her, and instead focused behind her. The guard. "Take her away."

"Villain, wait!" Still, a hand remained on her shoulder. Villain held a hand up and nodded. The hand slid away, but in its place, a weight held her down.

Hero was afraid. She was alive, and as great as it was, she half-expected to be killed when she walked in. It was part of Villain's plan; she was certain given his betrayal. She squeezed her eyes shut thinking about it, gave herself a moment to regain her composure.

The plan was to make a bargain, but not believing she would make it this far, Hero had no bargaining chip- only a plea.

"You killed my brother"- her head twitched and she recoiled at her own memory. Villain. Sword. Brother. Blood...She couldn't finish her request.

"And what? You took it personally?" He tilted his head at her, remarking her as though she were a curiosity, not as someone who he had ever loved, cherished, or betrayed. Villain's lips came to a satisfied close as his council snickered and jeered at Hero from their seats.

"I came to ask you a favor." Her chest was hurting, swelling with the thought of her request. She felt herself swallowing as she heard her own breaths, too loud in her own head. Villain's fingers tapping against his throne didn't help. "I know you plan to kill my last brother. I am sure you have planned to kill me, as well. While I don't ask for you to spare me, I ask that you spare him."

She paused for the briefest moment. Hero couldn't take her eyes off of Villain's hand, its incessant tapping. It reminded her of two things.

It reminded her of humid nights when she and Villain knew the guards in her homeland wouldn't be on standby due to the mugginess outside. They would go off into the woods, find a clearing, and lay down, then peak at the stars through the foliage. Villain would wrap an arm through her own and drum against it with his fingers. They felt warm, always warm.

The tapping reminded her of another moment, one more sinister. Her brother was a good man; he was going to make an even greater king. He would take his armor off, beat it into a sheet, and lay it on the ground for anyone if there were a puddle. And if that weren't enough, he'd walk away and let the armor become a bridge so that no one faced the puddle again. Oftentimes, he didn't wear his armor, and Hero scolded him for it. There was no scolding him as Villain killed him. Hero could hear her own screams echoing back to her now.

Though these memories happened over a course of years, they flashed across her eyes in a moment. She begged Villain, "Please let my last brother live."

"Speak up."

Hero could only close her eyes and bite her tongue. What she wanted to do, what she wish she had to capability to do, was to scream at Villain. Curse him for the love he gave and the terror he committed after- during. Hero would have never imagined Villain would betray her, would kill her brother in a passing moment.

It was a duel. It was meant to be a duel. But Villain grabbed her brother's shoulder so ferociously, so intently as he pushed his sword.

'First blood?'

Hero had been happy that Villain and her brother got along. Hero could still hear her brother's sword bouncing off the ground as he bled into Villain's chest.

'How about first one to stumble?'

Her brother didn't enjoy fighting and would only swing his sword while training. Hero was shocked he agreed to duel Villain.

And Villain held her cheek afterwards, fingers coated in blood. He told her that he would be leaving now. A brisk murder and an even swifter absence.

"Hero."

A knot formed in her stomach as her attention was recaptured. Villain stood in front of her, and his hand was reaching towards her cheek. Her chest shook with sobs as his hand touched her skin, and it was soft.

"Don't," she said, and she spoke quietly so that no one else could hear, save Villain, and maybe the guard if he were still behind her.

"What would you do?"

Hero hadn't realized she pushed her cheek further into his hand until she was looking up to meet his gaze. Did his love always look like curiosity? Had she been mistaking him all along?

"For my brother?" she asked, and waited for his single nod. "Anything."

He hummed, and his closed lips lifted into a gentle smirk. His thumb ran across her cheek bone, and Hero clenched her jaw. "Your life for his. On your knees."

Her chest quaked again and she swallowed. Without thinking, she dropped. "How will I know you won't kill him?"

It was in the next moment that she knew the guard was still behind her because his sword came to rest on her shoulder. The edge of the blade touched her neck and Hero found herself turning away from it.

"Because you will be alive to stop me should I try."

Looking up, Hero found the same grin Villain wore before as he shoved his sword through her brother. "I want you to kneel there and beg me to marry you." His voice was loud enough for all to hear, and the Council even began shifting in their seats, leaning forward, straightening their spines for a better look.

"Marry you?"

His eyes darted up, and in the same moment they found Hero's again, she felt the blade sink in just a little further. "Villain, please..." ...don't make me do this.

"Continue."

She tried to adjust her shoulder, to make the blade fall, but the guard just pushed it further than before. It took everything not to push it away with a hand. If her arms left her side, she knew the guard wouldn't hesitate to harm her. So she clenched her fists instead. Her breathing was perhaps the least controlled aspect.

"You want to save your brother, don't you?"

"Villain." She couldn't do this. She couldn't-

"Three," he began, "two..."

The back of her head was pounding and her heart was throbbing, beating against her chest like it needed an out as much as she did. Chills spiraled up and down her arms and neck. She shuddered.

"One. Take her outside. I will be there shortly." Villain turned his back and began walking towards his throne once again.

Hero felt the sword cut into her neck as the guard slid it away. She winced and her back caved as she felt relief. Tears streamed down her face and for a minute she thought she was in the clear. Villain let her live.

But the realization hit as quickly as the relief. He would kill her in the public's eye to prove a point. The chills resurfaced, and as she was pulled from the ground onto her kicking feet, Hero screamed, "Villain, no! Please. Let me marry you. Let me be your queen and I will never look back at home or my brothers or anything that you have done. Please, Villain. Let me save my brother."

The room erupted in short snorts and satisfied chuckles. Villain hushed them with a hand before circling back to Hero. His steps were off-beat from the beating of her heart; it made Hero's head spin faster than the memories she relived just minutes ago. Had it only been minutes?

"Tomorrow. You become my queen, and your kingdom receives no word of it. You will not speak to them, and you will not speak of them. Let go of her." This last part was said to the guard, and so he did. Hero was once again a slump on the ground. Villain leaned down to her, and grabbed her arm before yanking her forward. She winced as his lips touched her ear, but she released a breath as he whispered, "There's something you need to know. Follow along."

******

[johnslittlespoon]

omg it was so hard to pick butttt could i request 1 and 2 from the smut dialogue list (list 3) with buck and bucky!

prompts | "i want to hear you beg" + "arch your back for me" + playing around with smth a little different for their dynamic <33 ~800 words of filth below the cut >:-) this was so much fun ahh thx sm for the request!!

“Oh, baby,” John rumbles appreciatively, sitting back to get a good look at Gale while he rolls his hips languidly into him. “Look at you.”

Golden hair frames Gale’s head on the pillow like a halo, blue eyes half hidden by heavy eyelids, doll–like lashes fluttering each time John sinks his cock in deeper. Messy love bites mark a trail south, scattered across his chest and stomach and increasing in numbers where angular hip bones and soft thighs had just begged for John’s teeth to make themselves at home.

Gale rocks his hips down, dragging his kiss–bitten bottom lip between his teeth to muffle a needy little noise as John’s eyes rake over him. That just won’t do.

John stills, wrapping firm hands around Gale’s thighs where they drape over his own, squeezing gently.

“Keep going,” Gale breathes out, eyebrows knit together in frustration, still trying to fuck himself on John’s cock.

John purrs out a laugh, heart twisting in his chest at the glare Gale shoots him; it’s hard to look intimidating when he’s laid out pliant and pretty and cock–drunk beneath him, but John doesn’t tell him so. He just snaps his hips forward once, watching with satisfaction when the scowl leaps off of Gale’s face as flushed lips fall open to let out a gasp.

“John,” Gale almost, almost whines when he makes no move to continue, lithe hands coming up to wrap around John’s wrists imploringly, and John hums thoughtfully, stroking his thumbs over Gale’s thighs.

“You need something?” He tilts his head, feeling a little thrill at the huff he gets in return.

Gale levels him with an unimpressed look, but the light flush that creeps over his cheeks betrays him.

“I want you to ask for it,” John murmurs. He grants Gale with the smallest roll of his hips to egg him on when he stays silent, and he feels his hands tighten around his wrists.

“Want you to fuck me, John.” 

And oh, that’s something– his cock twitches at the rare vulgarity, and judging by Gale’s sharp inhale, he feels it. But it’s not quite what John’s looking for.

“That’s good, baby,” he praises him, delighting in the way his flush deepens. He leans down, sliding his hands up Gale’s hips as he goes, settling them on his waist. He brushes his lips against Gale’s in a ghost of a kiss, trailing them along his jaw until he reaches his ear.

“But I wanna hear you beg for me, Gale,” he whispers. 

The immediate pressure around his cock as Gale reflexively clenches down has his head dropping into the crook of Gale’s neck momentarily, cursing under his breath. He can’t help but press his hips forward, needing just a bit of relief, sitting back up once he collects himself, determined to keep the upper hand.

“C’mon,” he rasps out, running his hands up and down Gale’s sides, fingers splaying over his ribcage. “I know you can do it, angel.”

Gale does whine this time, high and desperate in his throat, eyes slipping closed to hide from his own embarrassment. But–

“Please, John,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Need you.”

“Jesus, Gale,” John breathes, head spinning. “Good, so good, baby.”

John’s not going to push– that’s already a lot more than he’s usually able to goad out of Gale, and he’s going to unravel a lot quicker than he intends to if he keeps talking like that.

“Arch your back for me, pretty thing,” John prompts instead, beginning to shallowly fuck into him, and Gale does, tilting his head back on the pillow to bare his neck as his spine curves beneath John’s hands.

The sight nearly knocks the breath out of John, and he groans, sliding one hand under Gale to flatten his palm against the small of his back, feeling the way it flexes as he jerks his hips forward.

Gale cries out so sweetly when he really starts driving his cock into him, grasping desperately at John’s arms, face going slack as he finally gives him what he needs, and it gets to John like nothing else, forever dizzy with the knowledge that he gets to make Gale feel so good.

Dragging those pretty noises out of Gale and feeling him tremble because of him is what really does it for John every time, and it’s what inevitably has him tipping over the edge seconds after Gale spills over his stomach with a broken whimper.

John sinks his teeth into Gale’s collarbone just to feel him squirm beneath him as he fills him up, hands digging into his hips, rutting into him like he can bury his cock impossibly deeper, feeling nails scrabble at his back as the softest mewls escape Gale’s mouth.

He laves his tongue over the fresh indents in apology before lifting his head to capture Gale’s lips in a messy kiss, swallowing his gasps and sighs as he gives him a few more lazy thrusts, chest warm and fuzzy and lovestruck. 

John smiles into the kiss, and Gale laughs softly, and god, he’s going to be the death of him.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: My father, shamed and angry, believes he can charm the Poisoneer, and so invites him to stay in the castle. He has dark hair, and red lips, and smiles at his king like he has already killed him.

[polyklok]

Omg omg i love your writing!!! No words can describe how much I love it!

Imagine muderface with a s/o or crush that says the weirdest stuff, like some stuff that they have been through. It is so random! Like those tik toks that say "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do is die" in the most randomest of situations.

Like imagine just chilling out doing nothing and y/n looks over at muderface and says "would a zombie apocalypse be a formal event? Like your buried in your best clothes?"

It woukd very so cool if you could write something for this but if you don't want to that's cool!

Just wanted to share my thoughts. No one I know watches Metalocalypse.

Thank you!!!

Have a wonderful day or night!!

(I didn't really check my grammar or spelling that well, I am sorry)

Murderface with an S/O that says ~random~ things!

“The color is actually named after the fruit.”

You baffle him daily. He never asked to be spoonfed random trivia, shower thoughts, or absurd hypothetical questions. And yet, here he was, eating it all up.

When William was first met with your verbal hijinks, he was just so, so confused. Why did you know this? Why were you telling him this?

“What?”

“Orange. Like, people just described the color as yellow-red or something before the orange fruit was spread around Europe and they got a new word for it. The color is named after the fruit.”

“…Okay???”

For a while, he thought you were trying to give him clues about something. He was just extremely suspicious of you. Like, surely there had to be a reason behind it, right? Well, no, and he soon just found it was a quirk of yours.

He was always told to shut up whenever he tried to pipe in or had an interesting fact to share, so you defying one of the fundamental rules of his life is a bit jarring.

As he grows closer and more comfortable to you, he gets used to your pondering and even begins to consider them. Maybe you have a point?

“What’s the minimum amount of ducks do you think it would take to fully kill an adult rhino?”

“I don’t fuchkin’ know. Probably a schit ton.”

“I bet, like, five. They’d just swarm him.”

“You are scho wrong. He’d schtomp them all to a pashte.”

Well now he’s gonna stay awake all night thinking about it. He can’t decide if you’re the stupidest person he’s ever met or the smartest. Either way, he gets a little flustered when facing the seemingly infinite expanse of your mind.

After a while, he begins to pick up your habit. In his own Murderface-way, of course. He had a pretty obvious interest in things like car mechanics and war history, but now he’s more willing to share all of what he knows with you. He’s really excited that someone finally seems interested in what he has to say, no matter how meaningless it is.

And once that door is open, he becomes more willing to open up on a deeper level. Even though he’s a dumbass, he does have a depth of intelligence, even if he isn’t great at articulating it. Be patient and you’ll get some fascinating conversation from him.

“Even if there isch a God…like, what the fuck, man?! You juscht gonna leave us all down here to suffer and schit? I might as well ignore you juscht to schpite you! What a dick move.”

William never realized how valuable it was to him just to be listened to. Simply talking to you slowly becomes one of the better parts of his day, everyday.

It takes a lot for Murderface to love and it takes even more to love him back. But the effort is well worth it with these types of riveting discussions;

“You have to fight a bug that’s 100 times its original size and you get one weapon from the medieval era. What is your bug and what’s your weapon?”

“Easchy. Butterfly, Croschbow. One arrow for each wing. Instant win.”

[be-my-ally]

Do it again. Please.

I HATE COMING UP WITH TITLES.

now this could be, a little bit, related to empty promises - or perhaps an AU off of it but you could also read it completely as a stand alone one shot. Fulfilling a request + prompt fill for ‘do it again. please.’  kinda imagining as if e + p’s month long honeymoon had gone so well they’d extended it rather than returning home 2 days later. 

pairing: fem!reader x Elvis Presley (1967)

warnings : 18+,18+, pwp. As always a lil bit of foreplay, teeny use of the term daddy, p in v sex, e can't stop + accidentally cums in her, couple of spanks here and there, tiny bit of innocence play? I use the term labia minora idk I have no excuse.

wc: miss VERY concise smut! 2.5k. 

The honeymoon period seems never-ending, you’ve been together now for almost three years, although only married for a little while - five weeks to the day tomorrow. You’re still celebrating every day like it’s an anniversary, wrapped in one another and cocooned in a bubble from Hawaii and now in California. Elvis hasn’t had to work for a little while, he’d taken the month off for your honeymoon, and extended that by a few weeks, despite the near-constant calls from the Colonel now. He’s talking about doing something new, something different, but for the moment you’re content to have him with you, even if you can tell he’s starting to itch to get back to the studio. He keeps it mostly to himself though, and you’re doing your best to keep him entertained in any way you can. Despite the months, years, of all the practicing and the training, the novelty of actual sex hasn’t worn off yet for either of you and you can’t deny that you use it to your advantage. 

Nonetheless, just because you’d had sex now didn’t mean Elvis didn’t still like doing other things; your thighs were still slightly sore from where he’d pushed them together to fuck in between last week, cock just about bumping against your folds. He’d gotten you off with his tongue before, ensuring a slick passage - using your own wetness as lubrication. But still, he’d fucked you raw, your inner thighs red and rashed. You knew he’d felt a little guilty about it, watching you run around in your swimsuit, marks clearly visible but it hadn’t stopped him from taking you on the sun-lounger and palming at the marks while he did so, after he’d sent his father and the mafia boys he couldn’t live without away. You should have perhaps been more embarrassed, knowing that they all knew why they’d been sent on a sudden errand, but in actuality you wanted him as much as he did you. Any reservations you might have had had been quickly forgotten as soon as he’d revealed his golden skin in the secluded garden. 

You’d been out to dinner tonight, a fairly casual affair, but still an opportunity to dress up a little - although that dress was now thrown over the back of the bathroom door. You loved to see him in his element, relaxed and happy and it hadn’t taken much, the briefest of touches from your pinky finger on the walk out of the restaurant, a thigh knocking against his in the car for him to get the hint that you wanted to go straight to bed once you returned. He’d stripped you almost immediately as the door shut - barely taking the time to appreciate your special underwear. 

You’re swiftly laid back on the bed, his arms lowering you as he kisses you, and he pulls away to  take a second to look down at all of you. You can’t help but preen a little, pushing your chest up and your hips back as you watch him watch you. He’s slimmer than he was at the start of the year, it shows in the thin corded muscle that surrounds his ribs and in the way his powerful thighs give way to slender shins and legs - you don’t prefer him one way or another, but with his summer tan, sweat glistening across his skin, catching on the hairs on his chest and arms he looks like a goddamn vision. An image you couldn’t have even dreamt up. His hair, that had been so carefully styled in the day, now falling across his forehead - flopping down, you can’t resist reaching up, breaking the lingering silence of both your gazes, twisting a strand in your fingers. 

He presses a kiss to your mouth - going where your hands tug him, before breaking your hold as he pulls back, his fingers sliding into you as he does. You moan at the intrusion but you’re so aroused that they barely catch on your entrance, and a little part of your brain that’s still capable of coherent thought wonders how, barely six months ago you couldn’t even get a finger in and now he’s molded you to him, carved out a space to slot in so perfectly that his fingers can just slip in. He crooks them just so - knowing intimately the exact spots to make you writhe. He takes his time, somehow despite his impatience in literally every other part of his life, he very rarely rushes this - ensuring that you’re not only wanting him by the time he moves on but that you’re desperate. Today is no exception, his other hand comes up to fiddle with a nipple, and you’re already sensitive enough that by the time he rolls one between his fingertips you can’t help but clench on his other hand, a jolt being sent straight down your belly. He continues to slip his fingers in and out of you, spreading them a little before nudging at your entrance with a third. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this now, his penchant for dirty talk still surprises you, he’s incapable of silence constantly muttering praise against your skin. He moves his thumb, rubbing up the slick inner folds of your labia minora to your hitherto neglected clitoris. He’s narrating as he does; 

“That’s it baby, Jesus Christ look at how wet you are - all for me, ain’t that right? Just gotta, gotta find that lil’ button of yours, get the right spot.” And he does. A swipe of his guitar roughened thumb and your body lifts from the bed, hips jerking. He laughs at you, a little cruelly, as your breathing hitches, eyes closing about to beg for more before he pulls his fingers out. 

You shift on the bed, still slightly aghast at how filthy he is - holding his hand up and spreading his fingers, a line of your slick still connecting the two. You watch, breathe catching in your throat as he puts them in his own mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Your hips buck of their own accord and from his position between your spread thighs he presses his other hand on your tummy holding you down. You squirm, and he pulls out his now spit-slicked fingers from his mouth, pressing them back down to your burning core. He slips between the folds of your labia, fingers catching the puffy, wet, skin. 

“I’m…I’m ready - El, please - please.” He grins, eyes still focussed where his fingers continue to play with you. You groan, clenching around nothing, desperate for something - for more. 

He steadies you, lining himself up and pressing into you. You feel every inch, every centimetre of him as he pushes into you until he’s pressed in to the hilt - your legs being forced wider to accommodate him. There’s the hint of a burning stretch, but with barely a finger over your clit you can feel yourself relaxing into him, Little Elvis burrowing into the warm little home he’d created for himself. A home that had lain dormant, until Elvis as Pygmalion had moulded it to his exact dimensions - your vagina, in fact your whole body, his own Galatea. 

He thrusts into you, famous hips doing their job as he grips your thighs and knees. You crunch up, unable to stop yourself, at the mounting pleasure - even though you’re not convinced it could be that attractive to have you thrashing about below him. But he breathes a laugh - it turning into a groan as he pulls out and pushes into you again, your body arching back. 

“How’re you -“ He’s breathless, gasping out the words, “how’re you still so goddamn jumpy, so fucking jumpy like a lil baby rabbit honey, like you still ain’t used to it,” he’s practically just rambling and you zone out, letting his words wash over you as you concentrate just on his tone and the movements of his body in yours. “God that’s fucking it, yes, oh lord, how’s your yittle cunt so tight still, fit me so goddamn perfectly.” You try to clutch at his arms, where he’s holding your waist, and he pulls out, briefly, flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and back to him. You don’t have time to protest, even though you don’t like it on your front as much, your breath snatched away by his sudden manhandling. You turn your face, 

“Oh - El, daddy, I don’t -” He just pulls you back to him though, forcing your legs apart again, and burying himself back into your warm heat. 

“I know, I know baby, but just, just for a little while, give me this -” He sounds moderately apologetic, although not very sincere, its hard to hold a conversation with his cock rocking in and out of you with every roll of his hips but you do your best. 

“Ok, bu-but, but tomorr- “ His hand comes down on your ass - you jump, but can’t help the moan that follows as he interrupts your attempts at bargaining. 

“No baby, you’ll give me it because I want it.” He growls, “Because you’re mine.” His hand comes down again, you can feel the sudden surge of wetness at that, his voice so rough it’s like he’s talking straight to your core. “Say it baby, say you’re mine. We’re married now darlin’. You belong - to - me.” You repeat it back to him, stuttering, promising that you’re;

“I’m - oh - all yours, all yours daddy,” You can hear the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and the feel of his hands gripping into the marks he’d just made, “I’m, oh god, I’m - I belong to you,” 

“Good girl.” You can’t see him, but you just know from his tone that he’s nodded to himself self-satisfactorily. 

Oh,” Your eyes are rolling back in your head as he continues to fuck into you, your nipples catching on the bedspread as your body is dragged back and forth. “Oh fuck, fuck.” He spanks you again, 

“None-a that fucking filthy language from you baby.” You can’t hear the smirk in his voice, too lost in the sensations, babbling an apology; 

“Sorry, sorry, oh-“ He pulls you out again, and you whine at the loss. But soon his hand is back, finger stroking down your labia where you now remain open, puffy lips slipping between his fingers, slick with evidence of your arousal. His fingertips stroke around your tender entrance and you moan, hips grinding in circles, so close to the edge that you can feel it building in your stomach, only he pulls his hand away just at that moment. Elvis flips you onto your back and lowers himself to be just above you, sinking into you again. You’ve been pretty well acquainted with a multitude of different positions now, but you know you both have a soft spot for the simple ones. The ability to watch his face, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open, pouty lips pushed forward when his own pleasure mounts. The ability to hold onto his shoulders as he rocks into you, or pull him into a - usually pretty messy - kiss. He’s been dragging it out for so long now that it doesn’t take long for you to feel the edge again, and he reaches down with one hand, slipping it between your sticky sweaty bodies. 

You’ve not managed this many times, only once before - he’s had to get you off with his fingers or tongue before or after, but as he hits just the right angle again, fingers rubbing over your clit in little circles - the internal and external stimulation combining to send you over the edge, body clenching tight. Your hips grind down in circular movements as you clamp down on him, 

“Oh fuck - fuck, fuck baby, that feels so - oh shit, shit.” You feel him suddenly freeze, twitching inside you, the pulse of his sudden spurt of ejaculate deep within you. You pant, interrupting his swearing even as his hips start to move again, 

“Wha- What,” You swallow, trying to talk around a tongue that suddenly feels too big for your mouth, “What was that?” He groans, his hips pressing himself tight against you before he pulls away with a reluctant sigh, rolling over onto his back beside you,

“S’ok, baby, s’ok -  just oh god I just, I couldn’t stop - god you’ve made such a perfect little bitty home for me, Christ darlin’, I couldn’t stop.” He sounds almost a little nervous, and you wriggle, feeling the way your combined wetness was starting to cool. 

“Oh....” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, a steady pulse, you’d liked it. “….do it again. Please?” He collapses, head falling back onto the pillow -

“Darlin’ I can’t just go again,” You frown, 

“Why?" You blink over at him innocently, watching the flush dissipate from his cheekbones, "You make me do it again all the time.” You writhe next him as if to demonstrate your point. His hair flips forward as he shakes his head, rosy cheeks evident. 

“God, baby, men can’t just - I’d hafta, gotta get myself primed again, I can’t just do it again this second.” You pout, feeling it start to slip out of you, the strange combination of its thickness against the thinness of your own orgasm and the tiny bit of sting where it touches your slightly sore entrance. 

“Unless you’ve changed your mind ‘bout that baby honey you gotta," He sounds like he's thinking fast, "gotta push it out at least.” You frown, trying to regain control of your trembling limbs, 

“El- I don’t -“ He interrupts you, 

“Shh darling, listen to me, promise it’ll be fine you just gotta, go on baby…” 

He groans, holding your legs open, leaning over to watch it bubble out of you, dribbling down onto the bedspread. You moan, 

“Oh, El-it’s I can feel it,” 

“That’s it little, quick ‘fore they get swimmin’.” You groan, rolling your hips at the sensation, and he reaches over, long fingers scooping it onto your inner thighs. You feel your tummy twitch with interest and you squirm as he pats at you a couple of times before wiping his hand on the cover. 

“I… I liked that. Maybe… maybe you could do that again sometime.” He chuckles at you, and you both lay there panting for a second, recovering from the exertion and excitement. He gets up first - rolling you off the cover, throwing a washcloth your way - you do a cursory swipe but can’t get up the energy to do much more. Content to lie there as he pulls all the sheets up to make up for the loss of the additional layer of the bedspread. He climbs back into the bed, joining you where your eyelids are starting to droop closed. 

His arms wrap around you, as he rolls into you, pulling you close to growl into your ear, “Jesus baby, where did that come from? You goddamn little minx,” He puts on a high-pitched voice, “What was that Elvis? Do it again!” You were pretending to be asleep, eyes tightly closed but you can’t help but snicker, his fingers finding their way under your rib cage - digging in, tickling you as you give up the pretense of sleep, caught out, squirming around and giggling. 

tags:

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

[nevesmose]

Coveting

Trazyn/Clone!Fulgrim requested by @chemos-factories (first time writing these two so drawing a lot of inspiration from your fics)

It's natural to play games with things you own.

Today's entertainment was an old favourite of theirs, and a way for Fulgrim to show off the knowledge he'd gained. Fulgrim loved nothing more than to show off.

"And here we see a typical cabinet of curiosities," he said, leading the way into the wide, marble-floored hall dotted with exhibit cases that formed a space so stereotypically like a museum as Fulgrim understood the term that, to an outsider, it would have verged on parody.

A strictly delimited playhouse, everything arranged just so and built to perfectly suit the superhuman build of the Primarch who was not a Primarch, in which Fulgrim had free rein to explore and learn as he wished.

Ancient scientists had done such things with rats in mazes once.

"They are also called wonder-cabinets," Fulgrim continued, eager to share his knowledge with his visitor. He was suitably attired in purple silks, and delicate gold bangles shifted on his wrists as he gestured to the object in front of them.

"Although the gathering of disparate objects and artefacts has no real scholarly intent or value, they represent an important step in the development of Old Earth's versions of museums as we would know them."

"How fascinating," Trazyn said, playing his role of distinguished guest to perfection.

"I think so too," Fulgrim answered. "And although the exhibit appears to be fully authentic to its ancient origins, further inspection reveals that the curator has included a number of deliberate anachronisms."

"Deliberate, you say?"

"Yes. To reward the attentive viewer for his study. For example, in the centre, beside a truly ancient specimen of monodon monoceros tusk, we can see a comparatively much more recent piece. A bust of an unknown subject by the remebrancer Delafour."

"Oh, how intriguing." Trazyn leaned closer, as though seeing the sculpture for the first time. "May I touch it?"

"My deepest apologies, honoured guest," Fulgrim replied, "but these objects are too fragile to touch. Lord Trazyn forbids it."

Trazyn stood back with a gesture of mock offence. "But I am, as you say, an honoured guest," he said. "Surely there's something here I can touch?"

The script being old didn't make the play any less entertaining.

Fulgrim hesitated for a moment. "The fragile objects are forbidden, but... I am not, honoured guest."

Sometimes he remembered that he had been something else, once. A being created for a very different purpose. But remembering brought pain and after so much time among Trazyn's other possessions it was infinitely easier to let go, to drift into the comfortable haze of being simply one more pliant, complaisant object to be arranged alongside many others. And so he did.

"A most agreeable solution," Trazyn said, radiating satisfaction as he moved closer to Fulgrim. "Shall we continue?"

The Archaeovist's hand settled comfortably in the small of Fulgrim's back and directed him onwards through an ornate archway with a subtle application of strength.

"Of course, honoured guest. We now enter the gallery of Terran dolls."

"Oh, how appropriate."

They halted in front of a tall, glass-fronted display case containing a multitude of dolls with painted ceramic faces and wigs of genuine human hair.

"In this exhibit," Fulgrim said, "we see every surviving product of the warrior and artisan Jean-Andoche Juneau, a toymaker from ancient Franc. The effort required to gather them here must have been vast."

"It was," Trazyn said. "Put your hands on the glass."

Fulgrim obeyed, bending gracefully at the waist to lean forward and place his palms flat on the cold surface. The dolls in their serried ranks smiled vacantly up at him.

"Good. Look only at yourself."

He locked his gaze onto his own face reflected in the glass, reducing Trazyn to a blurred outline as the Overlord of Solemnace moved behind him.

"Every object has a purpose, does it not?" Trazyn asked.

Fulgrim swallowed dryly as the Archaeovist's hand began to stroke languidly up and down his back. "I would agree, honoured guest."

"And, having acquired a truly beautiful, precious object, would it not be shameful for me to deprive it of its purpose?"

Necrodermis fingers glided up over the back of Fulgrim's neck and into his hair, stroking through it with intermixed possessiveness and reverence. He was intensely aware of how easy it would be for Trazyn to grab it if he wanted to.

"What is the purpose of a doll, Fulgrim?"

"To be looked at," he replied quietly. "To be dressed and posed as its owner pleases."

"And above all?"

"To be played with."

As all pretence fell away and Trazyn began to explore and claim his body in earnest, Fulgrim kept his focus on his own reflection as he had been ordered to and saw exactly what his owner wished him to see - himself in the glass as simply one more doll arranged among a thousand others. He matched their placid, vacant smiles with his own and felt nothing but happiness.

[palettesofrenaissance]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚, 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤-𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝟔𝐚𝐦. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞.

(𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞)

"You're mine. All mine. And I'm not letting you go again," he'd said.

"You're a monster!" she spat, using all her strength to fight against his hold on her. She jerked her body back, trying to push him away, but it only provided momentum for him to scoop her up. "Let me go!!"

They fight for a bit, her trying to get away and him fulfilling his long-time promise to keep her, forever.

"I'm not a pet!" She cried, before she's dropped on the bed, face first. She bounces a bit against the mattress.

"No, you're much more precious than that." He fights her by putting all of his weight on her—and he's heavier than she expected! She squirms underneath him as he tries to keep her trapped. She's always been a feisty one!

"You can't keep me here forever! I'm not a thing—!"

He manages to cup her chin in a large hand, forcing her to look back at him. His brightly colored eyes sparkled with a wickedness that's familiar yet sank her stomach.

"I said that you're mine. You've always been, even before you managed to get away. Don't forget that."

She manages to bite his hand.

He yelps and pulls away, lifting off her just enough that she's able to get away. But as she's crawling across the bed, he manages to capture her ankles. Kicking back doesn't work, and she's quickly drawn back to him, sliding across the messed-up comforter.

They fight for some time, again.

Soon, she feels the familiar needle prick in her right calve. As sleep begins sinking it's cold claws in her, she feels him finally let go of her. He stands at the edge of the bed, watching her slump still, the sedative working. He sighs heavily from exertion. He's disheveled, his shirt wrinkled from her fighting back and so is his hair. But when he looks down at the woman he's longed for and sought after for years, he feels a sense of triumph bloom in his chest.

This is a victory long-time coming. Finally, he can make her love him.

--

Well, it doesn't happen right away, and he expects this. She's feisty, and strong, and confident—which he likes—which he sought for in a partner. None had ever compared to her, men nor women. There's something about her, something in the way she glares at him like she's staring at all his faults and positives, something about the fact that he's known her for years, has stalked her long enough to know her habits and tells, the things she likes and the things she doesn't—

The way to pleasure her.

He shakes his head, eliminating the thought. Instead of giving into his desires, he waits patiently for her to awake.

Although those desires are pretty damn strong, whispering in his ear every few minutes to take action.

He shakes his head again... But feels the warm current of arousal snake down his chest and wrap around his groin. He's watched her sleep before, and so he envisions her again as he grips the edge of his kitchen counter and leans forward.

He's always loved her, always sought after her, always longed for her, and here she is, ripe and ready and perfectly pliant for his taking.

He shakes his head again. No, he mustn't!

He glances in the direction of the room she's currently sleeping in, due to the sedatives, then walks away in the opposite direction.

--

He has very little resolve and restraint over the things he wants.

He's so used to getting his way, in being demanding and in control that someone like her is a challenge. She refuses to not be in control.

She stirs awake one evening when the sky is painted a mixture of magenta and indigo. She's groggy, completely foggy-headed, and is 90% sure she's still dreaming because she's been awoken by a warm, wet sensation on her cunt that sent electricity up her body, to her nipples, and awoke her. She stirs again, groans as she tries to stretch, but finds she can't close her thighs. Looking down, she sees his face buried in her cunt.

She's startled of course, and confused, and still sedated. And after slurring his name, she can only muster a stammered, "Wha-what?" Then his tongue laps at her once more before lifting his head to meet her heavy-lidded eyes.

His voice is husk from lust. He asks from below her, "You're awake?"

She groans, her head still cloudy.

"Don't think too much, darling. Just feel." His tongue rapidly flicks her clit and she stretches out her spine, her breath hitching. He's smiling. "That's it..."

"Wha... Why? What?"

"Because you never let yourself fully enjoy things. You're always concerned about everyone else but yourself. And since you're mine, I'm going to make sure you enjoy this." He gives her outer labia a single, rough suck. "I know I'm going to."

"But," she tries to formulate her emotions into words while her thoughts are already jumbled up. She tries saying his name instead.

His arms are wrapped around her thick, soft thighs, holding them apart which allows him to eat his fill of her. He's noisy with it, sloppy and unpracticed. But he's determined, listening intently to the way her breath hitches when he presses the tip of his tongue into the hood of her clit. By the way her body jerk from excitement when he lightly nibbles her clit, covered by his lips. From when he begins pumping his fingers into her, entering two at a time, and taking note at how her muscles gripped him near instantly. He growls from it, a sound that rumbles from deep within his chest as his brightly colored eyes are glued to the soft, pink of her pussy sucking his fingers back inside greedily.

"My god," he murmurs, transfixed on her sex. He's fantasized about this for so long.

When she looks back down at him, she catches him licking his lips. Then, he's lowering back down to put his mouth on her again, his eyes fluttering closed.

She doesn't quite give in, and feels as if she's drifting somewhere between dreaming and awake due to the sedative. But, God he feels so good!

She sighs, and finds her nipples feel erect beneath her shirt. She squirms her hips when he momentarily stops to catch his breath, her hips chasing his mouth.

He chuckles at this.

Seeing her eyes barely open sends jolts of arousal straight to his cock that's still trapped in his trousers.

He wonders...

It doesn't take long for her hands to find their way into his hair... And then it doesn't take too much longer for her to cum—her body tensing and her grip on his hair tightening. She softly moans, still partially dreaming, and her display makes him rock hard. She looks completely relaxed, although a little wanton.

Her head turns the other way and she's about to move her body to the opposite side to sleep when the bed dips around her further. There's a warm, soft sensation on the side of her neck followed by his hot breath, and then—and then the pressure of something thick pushing inside her cunt!

She gasps loudly at the intrusion, her eyes opening, but she's still unfocused and groggy. She thinks she's dreaming, seeing him hover above her in bed, his hair still disheveled, and his face scrunched up in concentration.

She says his name, though it's more of a question in confusion.

She feels that intrusion slowly slide out of her, pauses, then slides back inside of her, inserting more this time. The sensation is a lot and her hips instinctively raise to accommodate all of it. "What's... What're you...? Ah!"

"Shhhhh." His voice is soft and calm and reassuring. His hips languidly move back and forth again. "Just relax. Just enjoy it, my love."

She moans softly, feeling overwhelmingly full suddenly, and then empty. And then full again.

"Wait..."

One of his hands gently places over her mouth. His eyes flutter closed as he indulges in the feel of his cock forcing in and out of her gripping pussy.

His movements suddenly pick up in speed which surprise her. Her words are muffled behind his palm on her mouth. She's shocked, startled, and is starting to realize what's happening despite her impaired mental state.

He groans from above her, the sounds of their slick seemingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. He whispers her name, it slipping out during his state of ecstacy.

She begins pushing against his chest, trying to get him to stop, but instead, his hips pick up in speed. She chokes around her attempt at words, feeling his hips slapping against her ass with force from pent-up lust and longing that's long overdue for a release.

"I can't!" She tries to say from behind his hand, but he isn't listening.

"Just enjoy this, honey," he pants, his eyes still closed in bliss.

When she starts fighting back, his eyes fly open and he knows that he's in trouble.

First, she gets his hand off of her mouth and demands him to explain what's happening. And then to stop. To get off her. That it's too much, and she—

He holds her fighting fists down by her wrists and above her head on the bed.

He makes this seem like it's about her. "I'm going to make you feel good. Just let me! You'll love it!"

But she can't focus on that. Even when he's kissing down the side of her neck like he loves her. Even when he maneuvers their hips, trapping both her wrists under one of his larger hands, in order to use his free hand to position her into a mating press. Even when he begins rubbing against her clit with every bed-jostling thrust, inevitably forcing her to her second orgasm for the night. Even when her g-spot is being rubbed against and her cervix kissed—

"Oh, god, oh! OH!"

She doesn't like him, she hates him. He kisses her and she nips his bottom lip hard enough to draw a speckle of blood. She claws at his hand around her wrist, creating angry red lines on his skin. When he succeeds in pulling an orgasm from her, all the while reciting how beautiful she is, she bites her own bottom lip and tries not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her moan from the delightful feeling.

"Ugh, god," is groaned, gutterly.

"No, not god. Just me. It'll always be me. You're mine, forever."

[wreckedandpolemic]

okay first your writing is AMAZING!! second - for a request, white and gold with #5 and #144 please?

sleepy - matty healy

(mdni) in which you just let your boyfriend take care of you. part of the white and gold universe. 964 words.

You’re exhausted when you finally make it to Matty’s place, the long drive back from your university stressful and overwhelming. It’s worth it, though, to be back in Matty’s arms, his heart thudding steady and familiar where his chest presses against yours. “So happy you’re here, angel,” Matty murmurs into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. “So glad I get you all to myself.”

“All yours,” you mumble, teetering precariously on the edge of sleep, swaying unsteadily on your feet when he pulls back.

Matty laughs fondly, steadying you with a hand at your waist. “Go sit down, darling. Dinner’s almost ready,” he promises. You yawn all the way through dinner, dozing off on his shoulder when you curl up to watch a movie. “D’you wanna go to bed, love?” Matty asks softly, and you nod, letting him carry you bridal style up the stairs and set you gently on the bed. “Don’t fall asleep just yet, angel. Won’t be comfy like that.”

He undresses you tenderly, analogous from the usual frantic, lust-filled way he takes your clothes off, but he can’t hold back his choked-off little gasp at the sight of your red lace underwear. “D’you like it?” you murmur, faint traces of heat flickering to life in your belly at the way his gaze roves over your body. “Dressed up all pretty for you. M’sorry I’m too tired to let you enjoy it,” you pout.

“Oh, princess, I’m enjoying it plenty, trust me,” he chuckles, fingers skating adoringly over your skin. “So pretty, baby.” You squirm needily under his touch, hips rocking unconsciously upwards. “Oh, not too tired, hm, angel?”

You giggle. “S’okay, I don’t need it. It’ll be better in the morning, anyway. Can get you off too.” Matty presses a finger to your lips, shushing you gently.

“Don’t need you to, baby. Just wanna get you all fucked-out and happy for be before you go to sleep, okay? Lay back and let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll do the work. Let Daddy make you feel good.”

You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed as Matty drags your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder to the floor. Your legs jolt as his lips meet your core, heat coiling in your belly. He laps at you slowly, indulgently, the slow pace exactly what your body needs. “Thank you for letting me do this. Missed this sweet cunt so much, baby. Couldn’t wait to get my hands on you again,” he murmurs, kissing your thighs softly, reverently.

“I love you,” you whimper, threading a hand loosely into Matty’s curls as he buries his tongue in your cunt. You clench around him, his fingers digging into your thighs as he moans into your cunt, the vibration buzzing gloriously up your spine. Pleasure drips slowly down your insides, thick and sticky in your lungs. Your hips grind down against his face, soft moans tumbling from your lips.

“Love you too, princess,” Matty promises, licking broad, flat stripes over your cunt. Your head is hazy, stuffed with cotton wool, your thoughts silenced by tiredness that has your eyelids drooping and bliss that soaks deep into your bones. Matty brings his fingers up to circle over your clit, pleasure sparking under your skin and kissing its way up your body, winding up your spine and buzzing at the base of your skull. “My sweet girl,” he praises, kissing your clit and sliding two fingers into you, your cunt full so fast you choke on a gasp. “So fucking pretty. Such a good girl.”

The praise slides gorgeously around your brain, sickly-sweet in the back of your throat as Matty thrusts his fingers in and out of you, slow and deep and fucking delicious. You don’t think you’ve ever been so relaxed, practically melting into a puddle that drips out over Matty’s lips and chin. “Feels s’good, Daddy,” you slur out, body limp with ecstasy. “Always make me feel so good.”

Matty smirks up at you, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside you, sucking on your clit in the same moment. Your body wracks with shudders, your orgasm taking you by surprise as you writhe against his tongue. He covers your thighs and cunt in soft, sweet kisses, worshipping your skin and letting you ride out the aftershocks before he slides his fingers out of you. “My pretty baby,” he murmurs, wiping his fingers on his sheets and crawling up the bed to lay next to you, still fully dressed. He pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of you sweet on his tongue. Carefully, he unhooks your bra and pulls one of his seemingly ubiquitous band tees over your head, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead softly. “There you go, darling. Can go to sleep now. Thank you for lettin’ me make you feel good, angel.”

“B-But what about you?” you murmur, reaching down to palm his hardness through his jeans.

“We can worry about me later. It’s all about you right now,” Matty promises, pulling his own shirt off and kicking out of his jeans. He curls up next to you on the bed, tracing idle patterns in your skin as you mull over the words. “Go to sleep, darling. I can see you thinkin’, stop it. Don’t have to think if you don’t wanna when you’re with me, remember?”

You tuck yourself into his arms, resting your head against his chest as sleep threatens to overwhelm you. “Can fuck me in the morning if you want,” you murmur sleepily. “Even if m’still asleep. Wanna be good f’you.”

Matty rubs slow, soothing circles into your hip with one thumb, lulling you into dreams. “Always good for me, baby. Always my sweet girl. I love you, angel.”

[sadesluvr]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well!! This is kinda like the last request you got so sorry if it’s repetitive for you :,) but can you do a smut Fic with Jealous Mike Schmidt x Reader? :D

A/N: I love Mike asks! This is a combination of headcanons and a drabble bc I think it’s a fun scenario :3

Mike is very subtle when it comes to his jealousy

It usually mixes with his darker side - his insecurities - and it can lead him to some not so nice thoughts

He gets very quiet when someone flirts with you in front of him

Body language is key - He slumps his shoulders, bites his lip, looks down, shakes his head

He furrows his brows a lot

If the person isn’t taking no for an answer he’ll speak up, perhaps with a little snarky comment

He doesn’t react so much in the aftermath, but always snakes his hand in yours, and he’ll keep it that way

He’s dead quiet afterwards 

JAW CLENCHING

It takes a lot for him to punch someone over you. It’s very rare and it’s always to defend your case

Still, it all depends on the situation - He’s good at holding back his anger but he’ll go nuts if it was your ex

“Was that Cody? The guy who dumped you for his job?”

“Yeah…We were just catching up,” you shrug. “I’m not mad at him anymore. His job is great,”

Mike frowns and licks his lips. 

“Let me guess…He’s some big time lawyer?”

“Wall Street banker, actually. He’s back visiting family,”

Great. Just great. Bankers, let alone ones who work on Wall Street were the complete opposite of what he was. Charismatic and rich.

“Did he hit on you?”

“Yeah, but I told him I wasn’t interested,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You really don’t need to worry about him, Mike. Everyone knows bankers are assholes,”

“Does he know you’re taken?” Mike says, and there’s an implacable look in his eye. He isn’t going to stop prying anytime soon.

“Oh my God…” you say, putting down your magazine to look at him clearly. His fists are stuck by his side, slightly clenched, and his shoulders are squared. His eyes are narrowed and he head cocked, wanting you to go on. 

“…Mike, are you jealous?” You laugh, and it kind of pisses him off. 

You’re not doing it out of enjoyment - even though it’s nice to see him being protective - but one of uncertainty. Mike never gave the impression of someone capable of jealousy. Insecurity yes, but you supposed they were one in the same.

He doesn’t answer.

“Did you tell him that I can make you cum with just my tongue?”

Jealous sex (if that’s a thing??) with Mike is definitely hot

He’s slightly aggressive, wasting no time in getting on top of you

Orders you around a lot, but it's all done in a really calm manner…Which is scary but it turns you on

“Take off your clothes. I wanna see you naked,”

“Bra and panties…Now,”

His eyes never leave yours the entire time. His usually warm hazel eyes are filled with lust and possession - He’s desperate to prove to you just how much better he is — how much he can be — and wants you to know it

When he’s jealous he takes you in missionary so he can see your face - Doggystyle is his second favourite

He wants control

He’s still very gentle and respectful of boundaries as always

ALWAYS makes you cum first. It’s a power thing

“You like that, huh?” He says, voice muffled between your thighs as he teased your clit with his tongue. “I bet Cody can’t do that. I bet he didn’t even like giving head…”

Gives you as many orgasms as he can (He’s of the rare guys who actually knows how to please a woman)

He’s attentive to your needs, but still gets himself off. He wants you to remember who you belong to, and how good he is

“Fuck,” he groans in your ear. He doesn’t show it, but your moans and whimpers do wonders for his ego as he slides in and out of you. Your hands are tight on his forearms as he daggers you, pussy still aching from your previous orgasm. “I love you so much….”

He gets kinda subby in these moments, and you know what he’s looking for

“I love you too, Mike,” you smile, holding his head to the crook of your neck as he thrusts deeper. “I’ll never leave you. Those other guys can never compare to you…”

He finishes deep in you, uncaring as to whether he had a condom on or not. He’ll deal with it in the morning - all that matters is your closeness in the now.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

You said that you don't get requests with murder and gore... :) well this is a challenge: write something very messy i wanna read some dark stuff >:)

They had a new name.

From what they’d heard, the hero hadn’t given it to themselves but the people had: the citizens of the city, their colleagues, their enemies. An unspoken tragedy had consumed everyone. Days had gotten shorter and nights longer. They were calling the hero the fallen angel now and there was nothing that could change the bitter taste it left on everyone’s tongue.

It was in their own self interest to avoid the hero these days and it hurt to admit that this had to be their future. Once they’d been close, closer than nemeses should have been but it was an irreversible disaster that had torn them apart. The villain wasn’t sure if there was anything they could do, were obligated to do. Pain had never been this time-consuming. It had never cut so deep and it had never ever bled their heart like this.

And yet, it was easier to distract themselves with their own crimes, their own chaotic life. Concentrating on anything but the hero turned out difficult, though. But avoidance came easier to them than originally thought. Locking themselves into their apartment was easy enough. There time could be wasted easily.

That was until they were kidnapped, arms bound to a chair, blindfolded and beaten. They were out of breath right away, choking on spit and blood as they fought for air. Months without training and bad coping mechanisms had left them out of shape. In the whole struggling process, the blindfold loosened and slipped down their face — revealing some lower-ranked heroes who had their fun while beating the shit out of them.

The villain wasn’t impressed.

As another hit demolished their face, they grinned, teeth stained with blood and cockiness radiating from them. What else could they do?

“That all you got?” They knew if this continued, their jaw would get dislocated pretty soon.

“Heroism is usually not defined by harming those who are unable to defend themselves.” The villain’s blood ran cold, nearly freezing. The smirk on their face fell miserably as they stared into the warehouse, searching for the voice. Likewise, the heroes seemed startled and those who knew to whom the voice belonged, went pale.

“Dude,” one of them said, “we should go.”

They grabbed the hero who stood closest to the villain and pulled.

“The fuck you want?” the other hissed, staring daggers at their…friend? Their conversation died when they spoke anew.

“If you’re longing for a physical confrontation, I’d be more than happy to provide.” There was a sharp sound. A sound of metal scratching against asphalt, a cruel warning. “That is, if you accept the certainty of your own death in the next few minutes.”

There was almost a laugh at the end of the sentence. Almost.

The villain could barely breathe. They frantically tried to find the source of the voice but it seemed to come from all angles of the empty building, echoing, waves bouncing off the walls and making it impossible to track them.

But then. The villain jolted as a cold hand snaked over their shoulder.

“Hey, darling,” the hero, the fallen angel whispered.

A bloodbath followed.

The heroes were quick, but Christ, the hero was quicker. Their movements turned into something cruel, unrecognisable as they grabbed one of their fleeing victims and speared them. With too much glee in their eyes, they let them fall to the ground and bleed out there on the floor. The dying hero hadn’t screamed, just exhaled in shock as if surprise was the only thing going through their mind.

And the hero continued — tearing flesh from bone they had broken, destroying someone’s windpipe, making one of them accidentally kill their friend. The villain gawked at the person who had once been loved by everyone.

The person who had smiled at the rain, who had made jokes and grabbed the villain’s face whenever the world became too much.

Swallowing, the villain realised that there was nothing left of the person they had once loved.

When the last victim fell, the hero paused, breathing in heavily. The villain saw the blood on them. At one point, they had sunken their fingers deep into a wound to lift the victim up.

Horrible.

“Missed me?” the hero asked. They turned around and pushed hair out of their face, leaving a streak of blood even there on their forehead.

It was the damnedest thing of them all — the villain was still attracted to them.

“I didn’t miss the fallen angel,” the villain clarified.

“Sad, that.” The hero let their fingernail scrape the villain’s cheek lovingly. It was harsh and it hurt and though the villain knew this wasn’t their hero anymore, they welcomed the intimacy. Seeing them like this broke their heart — forced to the edge, wild and untameable.

“It’s not too late,” the villain said. “I know what you’ve lost, I know you think you’re—”

Suddenly, the hero grabbed the villain’s throat and squeezed.

“I don’t wish for your pity,” they said, voice low and grip cruel. “I’m just here to collect my prize. Finders keepers.”

They let go of them just as fast and cleaned their fingernails free of the dried blood. Once again, the villain’s lungs burnt as they struggled to shove more air back into their system.

“I’m not a prize—” they wheezed. The hero raised a lazy brow.

“Do you prefer the term property?”

The villain wasn’t sure if this was better than getting murdered.