#Single Review: Teeth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 9 months

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HI!! I LOVE YOUR WORKS,, CAN U DO Pornstar miguel fucking his girlfriends tight pussy infront of the cam 😲😍😍😍 ITS DEF IF NOT BUT PLS🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

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I did not see this coming omg 😳😳 NSFW undercut

Big and sturdy hands attempted to focus the camera on the frame he actually wanted. Thick, lengthy, lightly curved towards the end, reddish hue tip with a heavy sac cock dangled before the camera as he tried to keep the device still.

"Fuck"

"Love when that happens" sweet voice that appeared in all of his homemade productions, giggled at the comment.

He had a lipstick smear near the base, the shape of your lips around it. Your little laughs could be heard from the back, but then you appeared and kneeled before the camera, lipstick impecable on your lips, Your hands grope your breast as Miguel approached. Another amateur production that would be added to his collection in the company.

A single hand of his, big enough to cover your face, went underneath your chin and cupped your cheeks.

"Open up, sweetie" Your tongue rolled off your mouth at his command. as your eyes stared directly at the camera.

His hand tangled in a fistful of your hair as he turned you in direction of his cock. His free hand guiding himself into your mouth and slowly slid in until your nose rubbed his happy trail. You seemed unbothered. Jaw relaxing as he sloshed in and out of your moist and warm flesh.

"So so good, princesa" He'd purr as his fisted hand kept guiding you on his shaft, to then squeeze your nose shut as he made you deepthroat him first. Redden cheeks turned purple as he fucked your throat between breathless moans and grunts.

He had been training you properly for this video in particular. The reviews from the previous one had that comment that surely busted your ego.

'That mouth can surely do better"

You were settled to shut that critic down. And Miguel was more than happy to comply in your training and now, seeing a cum streak that connected his tip with your meaty mouth and be completely unbothered by it, sliding in your throat once more like none's business, made his chest swell in pride.

"Eso, mi amor " (That's it baby)

He hissed with a lustful grin

He pulled your face before the camera and smeared his cum on your chin and cheeks before kissing you, tasting himself in the process with a satisfied grin. His thumbs splotched the lipstick off your mouth.

You laughed at the fact that finally your gagging reflexes had subsided enough for him to just use your mouth as a toy whenever you felt bratty. A great addition to the videos really.

Miguel would take you by the arm and threw you over his shoulder, rag dolling you. Feet dangling and hovering on the joints of his hip. A firm slap on your butt sent shivers down your thighs. A cue for you to shut your giggling out.

"Sorry, sorry got excited." You mumbled as he plopped some more cushions on the couch. He then threw you in them and you howled in laughter.

"Careful, Miggy"

His hands spreaded you gently like a book. Left thigh close to his chest as the other rested in the couch's armchair. Spreaded, exposed with your hips and legs shaped in an L form.

Puffy outer lips, that he had previously coated with his spit, parted to expose a bit more of your inner folds. He groaned at your awaiting soaked pussy.

"Ready, preciosa?" You nodded as your toes wriggled in anticipation. Teeth biting your lower lip.

"Aquí vamos" (Here we go)

Miguel took the phone, a little rustling as he dragged the tripod closer, making a zoom into your pussy. Pulsating, awaiting to be filled.

"Look at that" His thumb rubbed over your clit, to then place his shaft ontop of your flesh. The tip reached an inch underneath your navel.

You'd giggle at the size comparison.

"The perfect size really"

His hands would rub his tip between your folds, prodding at your clit lazily.

"Love big cocks inside you, princesa?"

"Only yours." He'd kiss you with hunger, tongue teasing before his mouth darted towards your ankle. Hips positioned, the camera focused, your hand hovering onto your lower belly made his cock twitch.

His tip sunk between your awaiting folds that received him with a wet little squish. Mouth gaped as he sheathed in a go, breast bouncing at the choking thrust.

"Yess-" You hissed and sobbed. Pussy stretching at his rock hard girth.

"Ay, Dios mio, muñeca. Mira. Mira, mira." (Oh ny God, doll. Look. take a look)

His voice urged to look at your swollen lower belly, full of him, bulging as he kept sheathing himself inside you.

"Feels good? Yeah?"

Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes drooped, drowning in need. You nodded with your bottom lip still caught in your teeth.

"So so good, Miggy. Just like tha-"

Another core shaking thrust. Your breath shook and toes curled in.

"So so eager." He cooed while dragging his cock out, glistening in your moist, his hand tilted the camera so it could take a better angle of how his cock left your pussy gaping. Your entrance squelching as he retired himself completely off you, only to ram back his hips immediately . Shaft buried balls deep in your tight little hole.

"Miguel!" You whined and his hips rolled, tip drawing tiny circles in your cervix. Your head was thrown back and he reached for your neck, squeezing your flesh on the spot. His hand covered completely your neck, dressing it up with his fingers. Air slowly leaving your mouth.

"You like that don't you?"

His pace quickened, and your hands went to his wrist that only applied more pressure on your neck, enough for you to give small short breaths and not cut the air completely. Your nods weak.

"Fucking slut, always greedy for my cock."

Your whole body shook with every plunge he did. Much to your dismay his other hand took a hold of the front strands of your hair and held you both still by the hair and neck as he moved into a brutal pace.

"Always teasing with this tight pussy..."

Your videos weren't for the vanilla coded. In fact it was the main warning in every little intro of them.

"Fucking make it hurt, Miggy" You had begged in between breathless chokes.

He growled. Oh, how you loved when it hurted so good. The kind of pain that always gave you the most intense orgasms with him.

The slapping on your flogged skin turned rawer and meaner, you growled. Sweat rolled down his chest and back, flesh flushed from the exertion. Your insides trapped him, constricting him in a Singapur Kiss. You just took him, mouth hung open, gaping in an o shape as he rawed you silly.

He'd moan shakily at the intensity of your tightening walls. You squirmed and wheezed underneath him.

"Dámelo, muñeca " (Give it to Me baby)

You shook your head vehemently, your hands still on his wrist, nails prickling his skin, trying to get more air in your lungs

"No?" He squeezed harder on your neck earning a weakened yelp. Your hands flailed and slapped his hand away, or at least tried to. Your hips bounced on his cock uncontrollably. There was no longer grunts or yelps, just little choked and stifled sobs, a vice like grip from your insides on his cock.

"¿Lo quieres dentro?" (You want it inside? )

Again your head shook as the remnants of sanity were ripped out of you.

"The fuck you mean no?" He shook you by the neck, it gave him a little wail from you.

Your small frame wringed with sweat, makeup smeared, and such a debauched face that made his wicked grin widen.

"Adentro será." (Inside shall be)

You whimpered a plea that he ignored. Of course you wanted it inside. His load always sizzled your spasming walls deliciously

He had to take a hold of your hips as you came. Gushing enough to bath his cock and lower abdomen with your cum. You had screamed, althout weakly, at the sensation. Body convulsing violently underneath his hands. Voice scrapped raw as your legs shook like jelly.

He had groaned your name as he kept spilling. Short elaborated breaths fanning your neck.

Itt was too much. Too fucking much and too good for you. You felt so full, that every time he unsheathed himself from you, you felt empty.

His hands grope you tighter as he gave the last few most powerful thrust you had received so far before going limp ontop of you as his seed remodeled your insides white.

"Such a good girl"

He mumbled as you wheezed, panted and giggled. His cock slowly leaving you, he then took the camera and zoomed in at the creampie he just did.

"¿Estás bien, chula?" (You ok?)

You just gave him a two thumbs up and giggled. Too sore to try and speak

"Ready for round two?" You only groaned. A bruise underneath your chin forming as he laughed.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv smut

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joelalorian · 1 month

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Six: And I Knew My Heart Wasn't Mine

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling in love. Finally some smut-ish stuff. Dry humping on the couch. Joel is his own warning. Tommy keeping it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

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Chapter Five | Main Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, you reviewed an email on your phone from the Texas Education Agency. Relief washed over you. The State Board finally approved your certification after jumping through a million hoops, just in time for your upcoming meeting at Sarah’s school.

Yet another step closer to finally feeling like an actual adult contributing to society.

“Morning, Spud,” your dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. “You’re up early. Did you have fun with Sarah yesterday?”

“I figured I’d seize the day and all that. I had a blast yesterday! Sarah is so smart, and Joel was really nice, as always,” you replied, playing down quite how much of a roll Joel had in making the day so enjoyable. You still couldn’t believe how things worked out.

Joel Miller, dead sexy single father, liked you, wanted to be with you. Little morsels of doubt tried to weasel their way into your mind, trying to make you question what was so special about you that a man like Joel would be interested in. You shook those thoughts away, resolving to believe that you deserved someone like him, someone who liked you for who you were and not who they wanted you to be.

“He comes from good stock, that Joel,” your dad interrupted you’re wandering thoughts. “Not sure what happened with Tommy, though. Musta been dropped on his head as a baby or somethin’.”

“Dad!” you laughed, shaking your head. “There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s young, single, and unburdened by responsibility. I imagine you were like that once upon a time.”

“Musta been so long ago I can’t remember,” he replied, hip checking you into the counter when you stood to place your glass in the sink. “Watch yourself there, Spud.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” you replied with an amused eye roll. Your dad watched as you tidied up your little mess from breakfast and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You know, Spud. You’d do well to find a man like Joel. He’s a really good guy. Shame he doesn’t date. All the women go crazy over him.”

Your dad kept going on about Joel’s aversion to dating, but your mind froze on that one simple statement – you’d do well to find a man like Joel. You tuned back in just in time to hear him say, “He needs to settle down with a girl like you. Someone smart and responsible who’ll still give him a run for his money.”

Practically bursting with the urge to admit that you and Joel just officially started seeing each other, you curled your lips between your teeth and just nodded. You promised Joel you’d wait a bit before mentioning anything to your dad and you planned on keeping that promise. “He should be so lucky to find someone like me,” you sassed finally.

The day carried on as you spent some quality time with your dad watching TV and lounging around. It was refreshing and relaxing, reminding you of times past where the two of you spent a bunch of time together.

The urge to text you plagued Joel all day Sunday, distracting his attention from the football game until Tommy finally snatched the phone out of his hands and hid it.

“Enough, brother. You’re like a lovesick fool checking your phone every five fuckin’ seconds. You just spent the day together yesterday. Give her a little breathin’ room,” Tommy chastised. “Women like a little mystery after all.”

Flopping back into the couch cushions with a huff, Joel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to play games with her, Tommy. None of that aloof, hard to get bullshit.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waited until a commercial break to turn to his brother again. “I’m not sayin’ to play games. I’m just sayin’ you don’t need to be up her ass 24/7. You’ll see her every day this week. It’s ok to build up a little healthy anticipation today.”

Joel knew his brother had a point. He just couldn’t help himself. It’d been so long since he felt like this about someone – if he ever really did before – and it was messing with his head. Berating himself for not even kissing you yesterday, Joel wanted to at least text with you today. It felt somehow wrong to not talk to you.

Then again, you hadn’t texted him either.

Tommy made a valiant effort to distract Joel from his thoughts, talking statistics about the game and the players, anything to get the guy talking. It only worked for so long before Tommy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, how ‘bout this. I’ll take Sarah for a dinner and ice cream date tomorrow so you two can spend some time alone. Get a little action in and maybe that’ll help you get your head out of the clouds.”

For the first time in hours, Joel’s face lit up. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Tommy replied. “You two need to figure out if there’s something there and you can’t do that with a ten-year-old hanging around all the time. Not unless you want to scar her for life.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to take his phone back. Before letting go of it, Tommy grinned. “I already texted her for you. You’re welcome.”

Ripping his phone out of his brother’s hand, Joel scrolled through his text messages to find what Tommy sent you.

JM: Hey sweetheart. Netflix and chill tomorrow?

He only knew what that meant because of Tommy and you had to know that wasn’t something Joel would say. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!” Joel growled, his ears turning red from what you must think. He was about to really lay into his brother for overstepping when you responded.

You: Netflix and chill, huh? Sounds like my kinda date 😉

Not expecting that response, Joel chuckled. Maybe Tommy knew exactly what he was doing after all.

“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he saw the goofy smile on his brother’s face.

Joel ignored him, proceeding to ask you about your day. The two of you texted back and forth well into the night until it was time for bed.

Climbing between the cold sheets of his large, empty bed, Joel wished you were there with him. He could already imagine you there, falling asleep together after a romp or two, waking up next to you in the morning. It sounded like heaven to him.

Hmm, maybe he could Netflix and chill his way to convincing you to spend the night tomorrow.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked into Joel’s house Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered Joel, knelt on the floor, staring down at a mess of pancake mix surrounding him and Sarah giggling her little heart out at the breakfast table.

“What happened here?” you asked, hands on your hips and eyes surveying the damage. “Did you have a fight with the boxed pancake mix.”

“He really did!” Sarah exclaimed, still laughing. “It went everywhere!”

“I see that,” you replied, grinning at her before turning back to Joel.

He stared up at you with wide, sad eyes and shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get it open and then it just…” His arms spread wide, gesturing at the powdery mess on the tile in such an endearing way. You couldn’t stop your smile from growing wider.

“Go finish getting ready for work. I’ll get Sarah some cereal and clean this mess up,” you directed, gently pulling him to his feet and around the mess.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess, sweetheart,” Joel replied, pulling you in for a hug. You could tell the warm press of your bodies together made him feel better and you basked in it as well, not minding the bit of pancake mix that transferred to your clothes.

“Don’t worry, I got it. Now git!” One hand swatted at his ass playfully as he rushed out of the room. “Now, what kind of cereal do you want, nugget?”

Fifteen minutes later, Joel returned to find the mess gone and you running a mop over the tile to wipe away any last remnants of the pancake mix disaster. Sarah already finished her cereal and was upstairs brushing her teeth before it was time to head to school. When you put the mop back into the bucket, Joel crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down your arms. Joel pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear and left a trail of kisses down your neck. The feel of his lips on your skin exceeded any expectations you had, and a contented sigh left your own lips.

With a hurried tenderness, he spun you around in his arms, the mop forgotten as it nearly fell out of the bucket. Faces close together now, your eyes drank in every detail of him from the richness of his dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose, the purposeful stubble of his beard, and, finally, to the fullness of his bottom lip. You could feel his eyes doing the same, drinking in every bit of your face before tilting his head impossibly closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Joel murmured; lips nearly pressed to yours already and you hummed in approval.

After all the weeks of mutual pining and self-doubt, Joel finally kissed you. It started as a soft press of lips and quickly morphed into an overwhelming need to devour each other when his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, begging entry to deepen the kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues tangled as you tasted each other – somehow, the taste of coffee was suddenly appealing when it came from Joel’s mouth.

Hands wandered – his over your curves and yours into his luscious, dark curls. Joel’s hair felt as silky as it looked, and you had been itching to get your fingers in it from the moment you met him.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps bouncing down the stairs broke the two of you apart, breathless, and dazed.

“Wow,” Joel murmured, struggling to remove his hands from your waist.

You smiled up at him, equally unwilling to remove your fingers from his hair. “Exactly,” you whispered, stepping back with your hands at your side just as Sarah entered the kitchen.

“I’m ready!” she declared excitedly and you both grinned at her cuteness.

“Okay, nugget. Let’s head out.”

Heart melting in your chest, you watched Joel and Sarah do their morning routine of saying goodbye. The love between the two of them was so strong it was like a tangible thing you could hold in your hands. Nostalgia washed over you as memories of your own childhood, moments like this with your dad, flooded your mind. What you had with your dad, what Joel and Sarah had together, was a connection that would never fade, only grow stronger with time.

Briefly, you wondered if your evolving relationship with Joel would affect that connection, interfere with it in anyway. You couldn’t move forward with him if that was the case. Some woman showing up and changing the dynamic between you and your dad would have upset you as a child and you refused to be the cause of any upset Sarah felt.

When the two of them stepped back from their hug and grinned at you, any question about your place in their dynamic washed down the drain. You felt nearly dizzy with relief when Sarah quickly said, “Give her a hug, too, Daddy,” and shoved him as hard as she could in your direction.

With a chuckle, Joel gave in to Sarah’s demand, wrapping his arms around you. The broadness of him surrounded you, enveloping you in warmth and a sense of security you’d not experienced before. Was that what love felt like?

“Have a good day, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” Joel’s deep voice was but a whisper in your ear, his lips just grazing your earlobe. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Warmth raced up your neck to your cheeks and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of what you hoped would happen later. “You have a good day too, Joel. Be careful, ok?”

“Always, darlin’.” He winked as you led Sarah out the front door to your car.

The journey to Sarah’s school started off quietly, Sarah bopping along to the music on the radio as you navigated the morning traffic. Your thoughts wandered to what you should wear later when Sarah startled you with a sudden question.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend now?”

She asked the question so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure how to respond. Would she be upset with whatever answer you gave? Was there even a right or wrong answer? What did she want to hear? Mind racing, you settled on asking Sarah a question in return.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

Tilting her head side to side a few times, the little girl contemplated her answer while you held your breath. She turned to you with a smile so big it scrunched up her nose. “Nope! It’d make me really happy.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline.

“Uh huh. You’re the coolest and prettiest. My dad would be lucky if you were his girlfriend,” Sarah admitted with all the confidence and knowledge of a ten-year-old. Another head tilt and she added, “So, are you?”

Equal parts amazed and grateful for Sarah’s acceptance of the idea, you opted for honesty. “I mean, I don’t know,” you shrugged. How could you explain what you had to a 10-year-old? “We haven’t talked about naming it yet, but we did decide to see how we like being together. Does that make sense?”

Sarah gave it a moment of thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s kinda like how you’re a teacher, but not officially until you get the job, right?”

You laughed at the comparison with a nod. “Exactly. I’m as good as your dad’s girlfriend, we just haven’t made titles official yet.” You pulled up in front of the school and it was Sarah’s turn to get out. “Now get going, nugget. Have a good day!”

The little girl bounced out of the car, calling out to one of her friends. Just before you pulled away, you heard Sarah tell the other girl that you were her dad’s not-yet girlfriend.

The day absolutely dragged. Joel could swear that time went backwards every time he looked at a clock. It didn’t help that every single subcontractor gave him a hard time about something today.

The roof trusses arrived six weeks early and the sub refused to take them back even though the damn things would rot before they got to the roofing phase of construction. The company he rented the extra backhoe from wanted to raise their rates in the middle of his contract. The list went on and Joel ran out of patience three hours ago.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of you. Spending time with you. Kissing you. Touching you. Burying himself inside you… He adjusted himself with a sigh. Damn, he needed to put those particular thoughts on ice before he got himself riled up. The workday was shitty enough, he didn’t need the guys giving him a hard time about an untimely chub in his pants.

Finally, Joel had enough of everyone’s bullshit and called it a day, leaving his foreman in charge of the worksite.

“Off to doll yourself up, are ya?” Tommy teased as Joel headed for his truck. Gesturing in the general direction of Joel’s crotch, he added, “You remember how to use that thing? Make sure to clear out the cobwebs and use protection!”

“Jesus, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, climbing into his truck, and driving off. He knew his brother was only teasing, but Joel was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t need Tommy getting in his head. He did have a point about protection, though.

A quick stop at the convenience store to grab a box of condoms, Joel made it home before you and Sarah. Putting on some 90s rock, he jumped in the shower, putting in the extra effort to tidy himself up down there. He wondered if you preferred pubic hair or not. Fearing he was getting way ahead of himself, Joel opted to just trim his down and hoped for the best.

By the time he finished trimming his facial hair and tousling his curls, you and Sarah were downstairs, working on her homework. As he walked down the stairs, Joel could hear you encouraging his daughter to think the questions through and congratulating her when she got the answers right. His heart grew three sizes watching how you were with Sarah. You held his whole world in the palm of your hand and treasured it like the precious cargo it was.

Joel was falling so hard for you. You were quickly gaining the power to destroy him.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called out when she spotted him in the doorway. “We just finished my math homework. Can I play in the backyard?”

He set up a tire swing on the large live oak out back a week ago and it quickly became his little girl’s happy place. “Of course, nugget. Come give your old man a hug first.” Bending down, Joel swept Sarah up in his arms, biceps stretching his shirt sleeves as he swung her around in a circle. Sarah’s laughter echoed through the room, and you smiled sweetly at the pair of them.

“Uncle Tommy’s coming to take you out for dinner and ice cream in a bit. Ok?” Sarah nodded when he settled her back on her feet and raced for the sliding door. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Joel turned to you. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he said, voice deep and velvety.

Your body followed his command without conscious thought, so great the need to be in his arms. “I thought about you all day,” you admitted, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Me, too. Could hardly focus on the job thinking about you and spending this evening together.” He tightened his arms around you, head bending to seal his lips to yours. When your lips parted at his prompting, Joel teased your plush bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s like a tasty little gummy worm,” he teased. “I could nibble on it all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, the little breathless sound music to his ears.

The kiss deepened until you were licking into each other’s mouths, hands wandering and grasping for purchase on any piece of real estate you could reach. Neither of you heard the front door open or the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” he asked cheekily as the two of you sprang apart, disheveled and gasping for breath.

Joel ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “Excellent timing as always, brother.”

“Y’all just couldn’t wait five more minutes, could ya?” Tommy’s grin a mile wide as he teased. “Lemme get the nugget out of here before you two scar her for life.”

You tucked your face into Joel’s shoulder bashfully when Tommy slipped through the sliding door. Joel groaned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t mind him, darlin’. He just likes to bust my balls.”

Ten minutes later, after some hugs from Sarah and more teasing from Tommy, you and Joel were alone. Taking your hand, he led you to the couch. He hoped you didn’t notice that his rough palms were sweaty with nerves. You were abnormally quiet, and he wondered if you were nervous as well.

Seated a few inches apart, the tension became too much. “What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up Netflix on the TV. He barely logged into his account when you suddenly straddled his lap.

“Hi,” you said when he stared at you in surprise. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

“What?” He barely got his mouth to form the word, his brain short circuiting with you in his lap. His grip on the remote loosened, yet neither of you cared when it fell to the ground.

“You.”

There was a moment where you both froze, each waiting for the other to act first. Then the tension snapped, and Joel’s lips crashed against yours. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Tongues tangled in a never-ending dance as your hips tilted, grinding down on him. Joel was uncomfortably hard in moments, pressing up against your warmth.

His hands were everywhere, fingers tenderly tracing the structure of your cheekbones, down the curve of your neck, along the swell of your breasts. They finally settled, grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth, hips bucking in search of more friction.

Gasping for breath, Joel tore his mouth from yours, his hands urging your hips into a rhythm as you dry humped him. His mouth left a trail of scorching kisses down your neck, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to flow down your arms. Your hips rocked, gliding across his hardened length and Joel swore he could feel your wetness breaching through the layer of clothes separating you.

Fuck, how he wanted to taste you, get high on your sweet nectar. He knew, just knew in that primal way, that yours would be the best pussy he ever tasted. His cock swelled impossibly harder at the mere thought of burying his face between your legs.

“Jooooeeelllll.” His name coming from your luscious lips in a drawn-out moan caused his own hips to buck up into you, hitting just the right spot to make you both see stars from the friction alone. His mouth sucked little marks into your neck, leaving his left ear exposed to your mouth as crooned, “I’m gonna come, fuck. You’re gonna make me come in my panties, Joel.”

“Fuck, darlin’. Come all over me, pretty girl. I want to see you fall apart from grinding on me like this. Drench those panties.” Joel sat back a little, just enough to watch your face as your orgasm swept over you. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’ as you trembled above him, delicate hands clenching the meat of his shoulders for balance. A little sheen of sweat dusted your hairline. Fucking beautiful.

Joel was absolutely certain he could feel you drenching his pants as you came, your breath finally coming back in a sharp exhale. He had never been so turned on in his life. Watching you come apart for him, feeling it seep through the layers of clothing became too much. For the first time in his adult life, Joel Miller came in his pants with a desperate whimper.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981 @marirxse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 29 days

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The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillete #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #meme made in WhatsApp my beloved

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aether-starlight · 2 months

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Silence - Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: Minor injury, grief, brief mention of addiction.

Summary: After avoiding Zayne for some time, a situation arises where you are left with no choice but to see him.

Word Count: 1.5K

Anyone who knew you for long enough was aware of how much you disliked uncomfortable silences.

You always felt the urge to ease tense atmospheres, to build a bridge between opposing sides.

When Caleb had gone through that rebellious stage most teenagers seemed to experience at some point, you had been the mediator between him and Grandma.

Piercings were allowed after hours of soothing and convincing. Hunter's training had been authorized despite the fear of losing someone precious, accepting their freedom to choose.

Now, as Zayne placed careful stitches on your right cheek, you came to realize that you couldn’t be a person and a bridge at the same time.

He was upset, it was clear in the tense set of his jaw, the closed-off gaze he regarded you with, strictly medical in his evaluation of your injuries.

You know I’ll wait for you, you said the last time you saw him.

And yet, you had rescheduled appointments for later dates and avoided places you knew he’d probably be in.

You had been off social media in case he uploaded one of his rare posts, probably a disappointed restaurant review, or a reminder to his patients.

You had waited for anything he had been willing to give. A text, a call. But none had come, and it made you both furious and heartbroken.

No, you couldn’t be a bridge with Zayne.

You couldn’t stand in the middle. To have his affection but not his trust, a door only opened by halfs.

You would have all of him or nothing at all.

Of course, life, being such a poor comedian, had soon decided otherwise.

That Wanderer had gotten you good.

You had lost focus, too worried about watching over the kid hiding under a desk at your back to dodge long, sharp limbs.

Now your face was colored in shades of purple and blue, with the gash running down your cheek taking the price.

The receptionist knew who your head doctor was, and had almost screamed Zayne’s name into the phone when you accidentally scattered drops of blood at the edge of her desk.

You had been mid-apology when he stormed out of his office, quieting you with a single look.

Now, the atmosphere was certainly uncomfortable as he barely uttered a word beyond instructions of turning your head or how to care for the wound for the following weeks.

Silence had been filled with words that in the end felt hollow.

But now he was done, and his hand was still gently cradling your unharmed cheek, tilting your injured side to the light.

The scent of blood and antiseptic dimmed beneath the freshly washed clothes and lavender, coming from the sleeve of his white coat.

He called your name. You winced lightly at the repetition of your earlier mistake.

Zoning out was a matter of life or death in your daily life, and lately, you had been at odds without it.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“You know I haven’t for a while now,” you replied quietly, gaze downcast.

Nightmares plagued you still. It was hard to disconnect from a job that required you to be in a constant state of alert.

His grip slid to your upper arm, a gentle pressure over your half-singed sleeve. You were lucky. So incredibly lucky to be alive.

“Why didn’t you make an appointment? I could have prescribed you a sleep-inducer.”

Your gaze darted to your lap, hands trembling, with uneven nails and scratched knuckles.

What a mess.

“I have an appointment.”

“A month due,” he chastised. “Do not think I am unaware that you rescheduled it.”

Your hands closed into fists as you finally met his eyes.

“You know why I did that.”

This time he was the one to look away.

“Do you wish for me to refer you?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

You gritted your teeth, something half grieving-half furious stinging behind your eyes.

“I don’t.”

His hand was still on your arm and you could not figure out for the life of you why that was.

He sighed, weaker the longer he stared into your eyes. He had been told more than once that his evol was perfect for him. Cold as ice.

If he was ice, then you were the sunlight that slowly thawed it, changed it into something warmer, more adaptable.

A light that had come so close to being snuffed out.

Before he knew it, his forehead was pressed to yours, eyes closed as he basked in the darkness your conjoined shapes cast, the scent of you beneath all the grime and blood, of jasmine and warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Your lips pressed together, and your face contracted in that unflattering way it does when one is holding back tears.

“Why would you suggest that?” Your voice was small, betrayed. His sudden closeness surprised you, mostly because of the way your body reacted, pliant as an addict at the hint of temptation.

Zayne leaned back, cupping the back of your neck, running his thumb down the line of your jaw.

The low temperature of his hand soothed your heated skin, carefully pressed to the swollen and bruised areas.

“Perhaps it is because I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You smiled, but it was humorless, wincing when it pulled at your stitches.

“It’s in the job description, unfortunately.”

Contradicting emotions bloomed within his gaze.

Repentance, relief, open and closed. His heart was a room you liked to peer into before the door slammed shut.

Someone knocked, coming in only to halt at your presence. A male doctor stood by the door. He seemed to be around Zayne’s age.

Surprisingly enough, Zayne didn’t pull away, keeping his hand where it was, now pressing his thumb beneath your ear.

The young doctor—Greyson, guided by his name tag—, gaped at the sutures on your cheek. Or perhaps at the rainbow of bruises marring your face.

You winced, an uncomfortable feeling spreading at the pit of your stomach. It was strange to be seen in such a vulnerable state by a complete stranger.

Noticing your discomfort, Zayne shifted to partially hide you from view.

“Yes?” He asked frigidly.

You often forgot how cold he could be. It was a pleasing contrast to how soft he was only for you; and a painful reminder of everything he had been through.

Getting information about Zayne’s past from his own lips was a challenging task. The few times he shared his experience as a combat medic and missions at Mount Eternal had been in an attempt to comfort you.

Doctor Grayson relayed information concerning a patient’s health improvement, placing a file on Zayne’s desk.

“I’ll see to their discharge,” he said, not turning until Grayson had shut the door behind him.

You felt yourself sag in relief, leaning forward until your forehead was pressed to his shoulder, eyes closed.

Lavender and antiseptic surrounded you, held you in the present, and kept your feet rooted to the Earth.

It was only once you felt the growing dampness on his coat, that you realized you were crying, shoulders shaking beneath his touch.

Zayne let out a low sound from the back of his throat, something sorry and tender.

“Why the tears, sweetheart?”

Pulling back, you roughly ran the back of your hands to your cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you admitted in a croaky voice. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Zayne’s gaze was soft as he grabbed your wrists, pulling them down to wipe your tears himself, with slow swipes of his thumbs.

Unable to meet his eyes, your attention drifted to the movement of his fingers, lithe and steady.

One day you had arrived for a check-up and his hands were littered with scars, a shade lighter than his skin.

You had ran the tips of your fingers over them, traced their rise and fall, felt the echo of his evol against your own, something sorrowful and guarded.

He had let out a derisive comment, something about his hands being no longer useful for anything but surgery.

Now, as they cradled your face so carefully, you couldn’t help but strongly disagree.

“Zayne,” you murmured, finally meeting his gaze.

Beneath your damp lashes, your eyes were red. Your hair could have used a comb, and your clothes were half charred. Not to mention the sorry state of your face.

And yet, to Zayne you had never been so dignified. A hunter in your own right, you were the one he bowed to as you bled. The one he thought of when pondering salvation.

You took the pain meant for others and crafted it into something else, something pure and meaningful.

When he answered, he was half ashamed to admit that his voice came out pliant and quiet.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Your features were open and docile, something he was still too afraid to inspect. It opened the scars of the past, yearned for you to see them, hold them closed between your fingers.

“Can I crash here?”

His eyes darted to the painfully white couch you were meant to lie on if you did, then studied the grime and blood in your hunter uniform.

Lastly, he thought of the pile of clinical notes that awaited him.

He was a weak, weak man.

“Of course. I’ll wake you when I finish.”

The smile you offered him was nothing short of dazzling, even when toned down by your injury.

“Then your place?”

He flicked your chin, oddly playful.

“My place,” he confirmed.

#love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fic #love and deep space zayne

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superblysubpar · 5 months

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dad!steve harrington x mom!fem!reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: Your husband and you have a Christmas Eve night to yourselves while the six little nuggets are asleep in their beds. | 18+ / NSFW

warnings: | the kids are mentioned in this as well are dad/mom things, but def not a part of this - just a night for you and your hot husband okay? | SMUT (dry humping, making out, dirty talk, fingering - clit action, steve cums in his plaid pajama pants)

1324 words

the prompts: [single lip] - a sucking or nibbling of one of the partner's lips [GRIND] - one muse teasingly grinds against the other

Winter, 1999:

“Steve,” you laughed, back arching as the back of your thighs hit the couch he was guiding you towards, “Steve, we should go to bed. They’re gonna be up in like three hours.”

Your husband’s teeth scraped against your racing pulse, tongue licking before he mumbled into sweat kissed skin. “Bed is for losers.”

His mouth kept its assault up, lips skimming higher, chasing your mouth as you shook your head from side to side. “Careful,” Steve squeezed at your hips, and you spoke into his cheek as he sucked at the curve of your jaw. “Last time you said something was for losers-oof!”

Back against the couch as he laid between your legs, landing softly but letting his weight fall against you as you both laughed. A little giddy off of a few hours of absolute silence from your zonked out monsters, a little bit of wine, and a lot of chocolate chip cookies. The stockings hung, presents wrapped, the tree glittering in the corner, the living room dark save for the warm glow it gave off.

“You were saying?” Steve’s nose nuzzled into your neck, breath warm and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Mm,” your eyelashes fluttered as he found the spot that made your hands jump to his shoulders, mouth kissing it sweetly as you stuttered out, “Melt down. Glasses. Losers.”

Steve’s tongue flicked at your skin, dirty and teasing making your stomach burn, causing your hips to roll against him searching for friction.

“Oh, speaking of,” he reached over your head and you nipped at his arm, fingers scraping down his abdomen so he twitched away from the tickling. Face returning into your field of vision with glasses falling down the slope of his nose. His palms pressed to the cushion on either side of your head as he stared down at you. Cinnamon and emerald and gold framed by the new wire set he got, a little bit of stubble dotting his jaw and above the curve of his lip that you ached to feel scrape along your skin again. That is, until he spoke again, voice going a little higher and scratchy, face contorting into a character.

“All the better to see you with my dear.”

You groaned, swatting at his chest as he smiled, white teeth on full display, cheek pushing up the two moles that dotted it.

“Ew, gross! Don’t do that voice.”

Steve laughed, quiet, but deep from his chest, chain falling loose from his pale blue shirt as he propped up again, the new angle causing his hard length to nudge at your cunt through the layers. His eyes sparkled, eyebrows going up as your lips parted at the feeling.

“You don’t like that one?” He pouted, bottom lip jutted out, hovering over you and rolling his hips with a little more pressure to get your eyes to flutter, “The babies love that one. Luke always turns the page back and Annie smacks my nose till I do it again.”

Thinking about him reading to your children was not helping your act of pretending he wasn’t slick - you knew what he was doing, chain bumping your chin as he leaned closer, red wine and chocolate on his lips just out of reach for you to taste.

“Oh,” breathless, fingers digging into the couch so you wouldn’t grab him, “Well with that rave review, please, Steve, talk dirty to me in your big, bad, wolf voice.”

Steve let his lips brush against yours, holding your top one between his as you parted for him, squirming beneath his body. He tapped his nose to the end of yours, rolling his lower half slowly, dragging his dick up and down you as he swallowed.

“Want me to talk dirty, baby? You sure? Last time we ended up with twins.”

“You,” your teeth scraped against your bottom lip as he thrust a little, tip nudging at your clit, his hand grabbing onto your waist as your stomach flipped. “Y-you always talk dirty.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s hand roamed down your thigh, dragging his nails across the skin under the sleep shorts, hitching it higher on his hip so he could drag himself over you harder. “What’s your favorite?”

He kissed over the corner of your mouth, tongue swiping over your bottom lip as your back arched and his fingers dug into the plush skin of your ass, pushing under the hem of the shorts higher. Steve kissed you, one tiny chaste peck, voice low, a gravel and rasp behind the murmur, “When I tell you, you taste so sweet?”

The whine that leaves you just encouraged him, but he teases, drawing away only to push against you harder in a way that made your skin hot, toes curling into the couch. Steve’s mouth pants against your cheek, both of your hips grinding in a shared rhythm, the tip of his cock pushed at your clit in the same spot, over and over, his cheeks turning pink as your neck extended, his name leaving you in a gasp.

He kissed your cheek, lips dragging to your jaw, mouthing at you hungrily. “No? Is it when I tell you to be patient? That you can’t,” he thrusts harder and your teeth bit hard on your lip to suppress the moan that fights to come out when he exhaled, “Cum yet?”

His lips pulled at your bottom lip, freeing it so he can bite, teeth scraping before he sucked, moaning into you. Releasing you with a pop as you both fought for deeper breaths. His hand pushed at the band of your shorts as yours curled up the soft cotton of his shirt and he swallowed, babbling, “Is it honey? Baby? Just your name? You like it when I say your name? Tell you what you do to me?”

Steve drags himself over you faster, your hips rolling hard, and your entire body lit up, stomach burning, ready for him to just let you have it. Your clit was throbbing as he laughed, dark, lips parting easily, tongue swiping over yours filthy as he grunted. “Fuck, look at you, angel. You’re gonna cum from just this aren’t you?”

“Ye-yes,” your hands grabbed at his jaw, bringing him into you, needing to taste him as the heat started to swallow you whole.

He cursed into your mouth, fingers sliding under the soaked cotton between you two until he was pushing circles into your nerves, your body a taut band as his mouth parted over yours, “Make a mess all over me, yeah? Tell me how much you want it.”

You gasped out his name, babbling another breathless yes, begging for more even as your thighs started to shake around his hand, and Steve nodded into your kiss, “That’s my girl, take what y-you want.” His hips and fingers matching the frantic way his mouth moved over yours.

You were asking him for harder, more, yes until he was swearing into your lips and your back was arching off of the couch. His fingers were faltering, messy circles against your slick and his hips lost their rhythm, as you felt him twitch against you, he gasped out your name and a desperate please.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over your body, fingers tingling and head feeling dizzy as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wrapped up and grabbed at the back of his head, fingers lazily moving through the soft brown waves. He held you closer, palms against your spine as he stayed between your legs, your kissing growing slower, noses pressed to cheeks, mouths drawing in and out for more until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

It’s quiet aside from heavy panting when you part, bodies soaked in sweat and buzzing. Steve’s glasses askew on his face has you laughing, reaching up to fix them and he beamed, forehead knocking against yours.

“It was the voice, wasn’t it?”

#dad!steve harrington #how sweet it is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic

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inkykeiji · 2 months

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character: valentino warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, possessiveness, toxic relationship, daddy kink, gun play, slight oral fixation, fem!reader who has unspecified piercings notes: for @sovya, who is val’s precious lil princesa ♡ and who always listens to my insane ramblings about ideas i had at exactly 6:20am hehe c: words: 687

Valentino has an interesting little quirk, you’ve come to learn; he always has to have something of his inside of you. It’s a simple fact, really. No matter what it is or where you are, a piece of him must always be within you in some way, shape, or form.

He, of course, prefers for it to be a part of his body—his fingers, his tongue, his cock—but unfortunately that isn’t always feasible.

And, of course, there are other objects that work well, too.

Sometimes it’s his gun, barrel rammed down your throat as far as it possibly can be, teeth scraping against the N of his bedazzled name as you desperately attempt to swallow more, knees sinking into the plush shag of the carpet beneath his work desk, your chin resting on his thigh as you sit at his feet. Your lips pucker tightly around the barrel as they suck, thick dribbles of saliva oozing from the corners of your mouth to drizzle off your jaw in shimmering cords, while a dutiful tongue curls around the heated metal in a protective, almost loving embrace, eager to siphon it further into your body.

Sometimes it’s one of his shiny gold rings, pressed flat under your tongue as you suck it into your flesh during your daily outings, the metal clacking daintily against your teeth while you mindlessly toy with it, the tip of your tongue hooking through the band then circling the halo in a lazy, messy outline, encrusted salt melting against your tastebuds, staining your tongue with the zest of his sweat.

Sometimes it’s his favourite bullet vibrator, soft pink silicon engraved with his full name and a smattering of cute little hearts buried deep in your cunt as you go about your day, never knowing when Val might turn it on, turn it up, but always knowing that he’s watching through the discreet cameras he had Vox plant all over your shared condo, always ready for that telltale video call that you better fucking answer right before you cum—and knowing that if you don’t, you’ll be suffering endless edging until Daddy gets home (and sometimes after that, too).

He gets off on it just as much as you do, chuckling darkly when your knees knock together and your thighs tense, a sharp gasp spilling from your throat and nails chipping as your fingers curl around the edge of the kitchen counter, tauntingly asking if something is wrong, amorcito? as his face swims into view, sadism stretched sharply across his face, eyes glowing with the knowledge that he holds all of your pleasure, all of that power, in the silky palm of his hand, controlling it with the single flick of a notch.

Sometimes it’s his custom-made heart-shaped studs and barbells, embellished with ostentatious V’s and filling all of your piercings, glinting in the late afternoon sun or heating under your clothes as he drags you from store to store, an arm tightly linked through your own—showing you off, his most cherished accessory, his prettiest prized possession, his best accomplishment.

If he has to pick a favourite, though, it’s his fingers, one of his four hands wedged between your soft thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt full and idly stroking the silky walls as he works—writing scripts or reviewing footage—and you play—mashing buttons on your pretty pink handheld or colouring a picture for him, book folded at the spine and balancing against your bent knees, little tongue playing with the point of your fang as you concentrate.

And yet, despite the sensuality of it all, it isn’t even sexual half of the time, going far beyond the shallow pleasures of carnality. Because that secret, shared knowledge that there is a piece of him constantly inside of you—a private claim of ownership in the most intimate sense—provides a deep-seated comfort; a warm, dense calm that roots itself at the very core of your souls, that soothes anxieties and serves as a steadfast reminder: that you are owned, that he owns you, that you belong to one another, always.

#valentino x reader #valentino smut #val x reader #val smut #valentino x you #val x you #hazbin hotel smut #APOLOGIES FOR MY FUCKIN 19TH CENTURY RUN ON SENTENCES HA HA HA #inky.val #inky.hazbin

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luthienne · 5 months

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Since the founding of the state of Israel, the Zionist movement has positioned the domination and oppression of Palestinians and the colonization of Palestinian land as the answer to the very real question of Jewish safety. They have taken the very real pain and trauma that we as Jews carry and sharpened it into a deadly weapon. We desperately must understand that what is happening is not a cycle of violence. It is a system of violence. Everyone is caught in its teeth. It is the system of settler colonial apartheid that the Israeli government has built and maintained over the past seventy-five years—with billions upon billions of dollars from the United States. Settler colonialism is a structure, a language, a culture, an ideology—an interlocking, totalizing, system of violence. It is a machine of war and dehumanization against Palestinians. It is this system that imperils the lives and safety of everyone. While the vast majority of the violence of the apartheid regime lands on Palestinians, there is no safety for Israelis in a system rooted in such dehumanization and oppression. In the words of Holocaust survivor Hajo Meyer, “My great lesson from Auschwitz is: whoever wants to dehumanize any other must first be dehumanized himself. The oppressors are no longer really human, whatever uniform they wear.” The Israeli government has lost any semblance of humanity as they wage a genocide against the people living in Gaza. It is not Palestinians who have chosen the language of violence for this land. It is the Israeli government and the United States government that have created a state of violence. Palestinians have remained steadfast in seeking freedom against immeasurable violence. Tens of thousands of Palestinians protested in weekly grassroots nonviolent protests at Israel’s militarized border wall around Gaza during the Great March of Return in 2019, and the Israeli government sent military snipers to murder and maim hundreds of children, women, medics, and journalists. Palestinians launch boycott campaigns to win their rights, and the Israeli government opens an entire new ministry to combat the nonviolent movement. Palestinians work at human rights organizations to document the crimes against them, and they are called and treated as terrorists. Palestinians speak the language of freedom, and the Israeli government responds—every single time—with the language of violence. The United States government has united to fully support the Israeli war machine. Already the United States sends more than $3 billion in aid to Israel every year. Now Senator Lindsey Graham said, “I am with Israel. Do whatever the hell you have to do to defend yourself. Level the place.” Make no mistake: Israel isn’t defending itself, it is committing mass murder. Biden says, “We’ll make sure Israel has what it needs to take care of itself.” Make no mistake: Israel is waging genocide. My dear ones in Palestine are saying that they have never experienced such destruction in seventy-five years of occupation. My dear ones are saying there is not a moment to wait. Do not sit back while Israel carries out a genocide fully enabled by the United States. Bring your full body, your spirit, your communities, your humanity, to meet this moment, to call your representatives, to the streets. “Never again” means standing up for Palestinian people. “Never again” means this very moment.

— Stefanie Fox, A Jewish Plea: Stand Up to Israel’s Act of Genocide, as featured in Boston Review

#stefanie fox #a jewish plea: stand up to israel's act of genocide #boston review #words #essays #articles #links #on zionism #palestine #free palestine

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 1 year

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New Audio: ZHU's Grimy Club Banging Remix of Genesis Owusu's "Get Inspired"

New Audio: ZHU's Grimy Club Banging Remix of Genesis Owusu's "Get Inspired" @HouseAnxiety @grandstandhq @shazi_la @genesisowusu @awal ZHUmusic

Over the past couple of years, I’ve spilled quite a bit of virtual ink covering the acclaimed and rapidly rising Ghanian-born, Canberra-based JOVM mainstay Genesis Owusu. With the release of his debut EP, 2017’s Cardrive, Owusu — born Kofi Owusu-Anash — quickly established a reptuation for being a restless, genre-blurring chameleon, whose work is rooted in powerful and deeply personal…

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youledmehere · 29 days

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THE ONES WHO LIVE EPISODE FOUR: WHAT WE

[WRITTEN BY DANAI GURIRA]

-> Vulture: After some tedious lies and deceptions, in Michonne’s words, they needed a time-out. That’s exactly what they get in one of the best stand-alone episodes in all of The Walking Dead. (…) It’s like watching a two-person play, which makes sense, as the episode’s writer, Danai Gurira (Michonne herself), is an acclaimed and Tony-nominated playwright (…..) “What We” is not a bottle episode. Multiple sets in a single location, two characters with an internal conflict, and the special-effects budget make it a “Suitcase” episode. Editors Rating: 5 stars

Bloody-Disgusting: Andrew Lincoln once again showcases a masterclass of acting as Grimes cycles through his damaged psyche, desperately trying to figure out how to connect with Michonne. Gurira matches Lincoln’s emotional performance, evoking Michonne’s desperation and anger with authenticity. Letting Gurira take over writing duties for this specific episode proved extremely beneficial given the emotional legwork the character trudges through in this particular installment. If there’s anyone who can understand Michonne the best, it’s Danai Gurira.

The Hollywood Reporter: As the writer of the episode, Gurira felt she clearly understood Michonne’s arc, but she wanted to make sure her co-star and fellow executive producer Lincoln had enough meat to sink his teeth into, as well. “You want to give an actor like him everything you can,” she says. “Andy’s such a fantastic actor who throws everything into it. I was keen to give him that workout.” Lincoln added to THR, “It was thrilling to do all of this with friends, but Danai had one heck of a role as well as showrunning the fourth episode as an added responsibility. I thought the work she did on that was an astonishing testament to her skills, especially because apparently she only needs two hours a day to sleep.”

Den of Geek: To call it a bottle episode is dismissive. Certainly, there’s one major setting, and most of the episode contains little in the way of special effects (by the standards of the average Walking Dead Televisual Universe show). However, most bottle episodes aren’t this interesting, or this gripping. “What We” feels like The Walking Dead taking a stab at doing a spinoff of the Richard Linklater Before trilogy, not wallowing in the usual zombie action or soap opera frippery. It’s almost certainly going to be polarizing, but it’s one of the most captivating, emotionally-deep episodes of television from this universe, and it’s all down to the powerhouse that is Danai Gurira.

SpoilerTV: “What We” is a captivating exploration of love’s transformative force. Rick and Michonne shed their pretenses, abandoning deceit to forge a profound reconnection. Andrew Lincoln’s performance brilliantly resurrects Rick from the abyss of a living man who is dead inside, courtesy of Danai’s masterful writing.

Bleeding Cool: But it’s Gurira pulling double duty that deserves all of the attention and tons of praise. Proving that she knows this couple and their dynamic better than anyone, Gurira presented us with what felt like a real couple going through the problems with real reactions- even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. I know that reviews can sometimes go to the extremes-positive or negative- but in the case of “What We”, we have an easy contender for one of the best single episodes of the franchises run.

#acting was amazing. writing was amazing. 10/10 #richonne #the ones who live #rick grimes #michonne #andrew lincoln #danai gurira #*

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gbhbl · 1 year

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Single Slam: Cattle Decapitation, Graywave, Bailltak, Bad Juju, Therapy?, The Night Flight Orchestra, Pollyanna Blue, Swarm6ix, Forager, Swollen Teeth, CHLSY, Broken Jaw, ten56., Sicksense, and Scar Symmetry!

This week’s single slam features Cattle Decapitation, Graywave, Bailltak, Bad Juju, Therapy?, The Night Flight Orchestra, Pollyanna Blue, Swarm6ix, Forager, Swollen Teeth, CHLSY, Broken Jaw, ten56., Sicksense, and Scar Symmetry. You can read our thoughts about the latest singles from these bands below. Cattle Decapitation – Scourge of the Offspring The American deathgrind masters have released…

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#Bad Juju #Bailltak #Broken Jaw #Cattle Decapitation #CHLSY #Forager #Graywave #Pollyanna Blue #Scar Symmetry #Sicksense #Single Review #Single Slam #Swarm6ix #Swollen Teeth #ten56.#The Night Flight Orchestra #Therapy?

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justporo · 8 months

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Astarion making use of his skills to help Wyll

Shamelessly using this for an original post because I like the idea too much! Spoilers ahead, be warned!

So, as this post imagined (and thanks for @daedriclys for tagging me):

What if Astarion just went "ahem, I'd actually like to take a look at this legal document, thank you very much!" and went to help Wyll with his contract by Mizora.

I'd love to see how Astarion would take the opportunity to do something good for someone else because personal growth and redemption. Also this fucking devil can eat shit, Astarion's tired of people being forced into slavery.

So he fiercly interrupts and demands that Wyll will have at least a day to review the contract and when Mizora agrees through gritted teeth, the party gets to work: Astarion admits that he might be a little rusty and that he was shit at his job back then, but he's dead set on making this one thing right. (Also we know he knows history, so I feel it's not hard to imagine him being a bit scholarly and enjoying to learn things and figure stuff out - also he is smart!)

So he drags the whole party to where he knows is a Law library in Baldur's Gate and tries to find out everything on these kinds of contracts. He goes over the contract again and again trying to find ways out for Wyll while everyone else has turned into his research assistants (Gale is obviously his lead researcher because that man knows his way around a library). ("No, Karlach, it's 'pacta sunt servanda', spelled p-a-c-t-ugh, you know what, please let someone help you with looking for it!")

They spend the whole 24 hours to work out the best possible solution and when Mizora comes back her jaw is on the floor because not only did her plan not work, Astarion got Wyll some compensation and a severance-package worked out and might even sue. Also Astarion reads out every single term and condition and exactly decodes why it is shitty and wrong and why the wording could have used some work, all in his sassy little tone - while Mizora is fuming, but she has to listen to it, because formalities will have it that way.

And Astarion might play it down afterwards for just liking the challenge but he's actually so happy he could actually use his specific knowledge to help someone - and kinda remedy some of his past wrongdoings.

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rubyreduji · 8 months

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ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao.

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra.

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV.

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other.

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts.

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand.

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.”

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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virgincels · 3 months

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RIGOR MORTIS !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. las plagas!reader, he kills you, technically snuff ig but wasn’t intended oops, gore, canon-typical violence, reader is infected and out of it so she can’t really consent, dub-con, non-con, p in v, choking/asphyxiation, strangulation

note. god im plagued by writers block and it’s killing me it’s like walking on shattered glass rn. umm please ignore any mistakes, not very fond on this but haven’t posted in a bit :3 um it’s quite short. rbs are always appreciated :3 instead of asking for a part 2 please just tell me something nice.. feedback is really appreciated <3 comms are open! info in my pinned :3

Leon seeks refuge in what looks to have once been a humble abode. Now only a shack wearing a shroud of all things dead and rotten remains. Foetid water has soaked him to the bone, it seeps into the thick leather of his combat boots, leaves his socks soggy. He really hates that. Leon can handle cerebrospinal fluid leaving a sticky film on the toe of his boots, the blood caked beneath his fingernails is something he considers normal, but wet socks are a total inconvenience, it’s a shortcut to trench foot.

The hollow skulls of small critters occupy the corners, the cobwebs have cobwebs, the air is stagnant and stinking. Not of rot, but of sickness. A gaping wound crawling with infection, bacteria settling in the crevices of his mind, squirming like fat, juicy maggots—

Crack!

It’s a man, he was a man, now he’s a boneless lump of flesh, his spinal cord snapped under the weight of Leon’s boot. His yellowed teeth glisten under the golden warmth of a single lantern. Leon’s defence is choreographed at this point, a swift kick to intercept an impending strike, then his boot makes mincemeat of their brains.

When he takes a step back to review his current affair, it’s not so bad, certainly not Raccoon City. Leon would take a million murderous Spanish grandparents over a single zombie. Zombies are plain nasty, not a single limb intact, oozing pustules that peel back to reveal purpling flesh infested by larvae. They’re fuckin’ ugly. Slow and bloated and ugly. A sight no human being should see.

On the wall, there’s a shattered, grimy mirror. Leon sees the ghost of a boy staring back at him. Unwashed hair hanging limp, cheekbones carved out, his skin alabaster like the blocky lettering stitched into his uniform. R.P.D. it reads, muddied by blood and guts and chunks of vomit. All the good shit. He hasn’t grown into his body yet, the steel of his gun is cool on his temple and he’s young and these are all important things to know. In his arms is something small and lightweight, a bloodied little girl, leading him to a pyrrhic victory.

The floorboards groan under the weight of a pair of feet that don’t belong to him, the threat isn’t imminent. You don’t charge at him, no, it’s shambling he can only describe as zombie-like, dragging your bare feet like it hurts to lift them off the ground. Like you’re waterlogged and ready to pop.

You were pretty, he’s sure, a real looker. You’re pretty now, just not in your entirety. Strings of reddish muscle keep the fatty flesh of your right tit hanging on for dear life. Like an Amazonian woman. There’s no rot, no sign of decay, simply an act of self-mutilation.

Now, some might call him a pervert, but Leon’s a self-proclaimed iconoclast. And you, swaying from side to side in your torn linen nightdress, the skeletal pendant of Los Iluminados around your neck like a disfigured cross, draped in a veil of white that’s close enough to holy - it’s worth ruining. Santa Maria di Plagas or whatever.

He realises a few shattered bones have you walking funny, circles you easily and heads into the room you exited. The bed sheets are rumpled in unrest, he sits, there’s a hairline fracture between the two of you. The lantern light bares all, the white of your dress becomes gossamer-thin, he makes out your shape beneath the blood-soaked cloth that moulds to the shape of your torso, the smooth dip of your waist, a soft sinkage where the fabric clings to your belly button.

Leon has seen far worse. Can you blame a guy for getting hard at the sight of a real girl? In his line of work, he’s neck deep in pounds of flesh that spew pus and gore from each virus-clogged abscess. The layer of dirt on your skin does not deter him, that tit hanging by a tissuey thread, swinging back and forth like your necklace is child’s play to him. ‘Cause Leon’s a real man. The princely type.

(He’s anything but. One girl’s knight in shining armour is a monster under the bed for another. It’s not like you can complain, you’re quite the monster yourself.)

Hang in there Ashley. He’ll be there soon, but he’s got to do this. This is completely and utterly necessary. Hunnigan doesn’t need to know why he’ll be unreachable for a good thirty minutes or so. Less probably. ‘Cause your body is hot, clammy with fever, and that means your pussy is even hotter.

Something… Something… Plagas… Something… Lord Saddler…

Your mumbling is constant. Leon will have to do something about that. You gnash your teeth at him when you approach, held back only by the sluggishness that comes with, like, brainwashing cultish parasites.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no entiendo.” Leon loops a worn piece of rope around your neck. Ain’t that handy? Found it hung on your assumed-to-be father’s tool belt. Used for leading curly little lambs to the sacrificial altar. He strokes the underside of your chin, and you bare your teeth like a wild dog, albeit slowly. A late reaction. No fair, it’s like someone’s knocked you around already, who got here before him?

Getting his dick out at a time like this in a place like this, it’s not smart. Sneaky bugs could use his urethra as a water slide. A menacing minibeast might latch onto his balls pincher-first. However, needs are needs, and nothing gets in the way of Leon’s dick, not even a kidnapped First Daughter could stop the force of nature that is his boner.

With ease, he pushes you onto the ground. Not the bed. If you behave like an animal then he’ll have to fuck you like one. Plus, Leon’s not quite sure he trusts those sheets, at least the rusty nails on the floorboards are visible to the naked eye. Tetanus won’t be a nasty surprise, just a momentary lapse in judgement.

Your body contorts when he pulls the rope, back taking on a feline shape, spine bending inwards and your hips up. Puppetry is easier than it looks. The hem of your dress lifts to reveal your leaking chasm of a pussy. Better than nothing. Not like he’s eating it either way.

One hand on the rope, the other on his belt buckle, he lowers his jeans enough to pop his dick out. “Stay still, honey.” He instructs, but it’s like talking to a brick wall, or to a person who doesn’t understand a lick of English.

Leon chokes you with the rope. “I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart,” he coos, a tender kiss that he regrets merely seconds later placed on your shoulder.

He grips the base of his cock, the fat tip is red and leaky, precum bubbling like your foaming mouth. Leon’s too hard. His dick is totally upright, the soft curve pointing towards the ceiling, a thumb comes to press down on the tip, using it to guide himself into your pussy.

“Oh, there you go, honey, yeah, there you go.” His hold on the rope loosens, still firm enough to keep you in place, but now at least there’s oxygen flowing to your parasite-addled brain. “You feel that?”

Leon’s dick stretches you to the point of no return. He’s broken you in. Better off him than any of those grotesque old men. You’re a virgin surely, so it’s very considerate of him to fuck you before you die. No one should die a virgin, that’s cruel, it’s inhumane.

You thrash wildly, grunting each time his hips smack into the fat of your ass, he can’t tell if you’re enjoying it— You better be fuckin’ enjoying it. Know how risky this shit is? Fuck, what if you had a mutated cunt or something. Jagged teeth waiting to clamp down on a big fat dick and tear it straight off. He really needs to start thinking with his brain and not his cock. The thing just doesn’t shut up.

When he cums, the rope is tight around the column of your neck— It would be your hair, but he fears it might fall straight from your scalp in nasty, matted clamps. Your body rears like a wild Mustang, he gathers the rope and it wraps around his fingers until your back is flush to his chest and you grasp for something, anything— Eyes rolled so far back he can see the milky whites, and then he gives one last tug to make sure you’re stuck in that state. Mid-orgasm. Eyes in the back of your skull, back arched, pussy dripping with his load. Cute. He wishes rigor mortis set in right now so that you don’t fall slack into a heap of red and white when he lets go.

Leon leaves by barrelling out of a window like a true gentleman, the microscopic shards splinter your skin. He takes that pendant with him, tucks it in his back pocket, could be useful at some point in time.

It’s only when the blood in his veins runs black and viscous does Leon notice something is severely wrong. His blood flow slows to a halt, clots forming in every important artery. Mucousy black sludge leaks from his nose. An intense pain cuts through his senses with deadly precision, a surge of discomfort that has him kneeling over, hands on his knees in a clumsy attempt to steady himself.

His hands clasp around Ada’s neck— The rope. He pulls it tighter and tighter to get closer and closer. Her voice is distorted by the fog that clouds his brain, it creates a hazy barrier, mutes the world around him. A knife lodges in the meaty flesh of his thigh, he topples backwards when her knee makes contact with his groin.

“That bitch gave me crabs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He brushes her off. “I said, uh, Lord Saddler almighty.” Leon’s heard that enough times to repeat it back to her rather fluently. Nice save.

“Right,” Ada says, unconvinced.

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