#rated: e

[magecrafts]

MAYA LOPEZ headcanons.

rated e for explicit sexual content — 18+ — minors dni.

a/n: beefy pro fighter maya my beloved

maya lopez x reader ; is your girlfriend a puppy or a brawler? yes.

warnings: nsfw, semi-explicit smut, afab language, anal play, choking, spanking, strap-ons, rough sex, one single mention of blood.

watching maya in the ring gets you hot. especially when she’s fighting men and they can’t hold their own against her. she’s faster, anticipates better, hits harder, bounces back quicker. first time she invited you to a fight you worried you wouldn’t like seeing her get hit, but that fear dissolved when she took a mean cross to the jaw and found you in the crowd, flashed you a bloody grin, and pummeled her opponent into submission with heavy-handed blow after blow before the first round was up. when you kissed her in the locker room after the fight she tasted a little bit like blood even though she’d already cleaned up, but you didn’t mind. you kind of liked it. then she used her prize money to take you out to dinner where she touched you under the table while she ate steak tips and drank beer and you were left to grip your drink until your knuckles went white and every muscle in your body tensed. 

nowadays you’re front row at all of her fights with her leather jacket draped over your shoulders to keep it warm for her and so everyone knows exactly who you’re there for. who you belong to. 

tight hugs when she comes home from the gym in muscle shirts, nuzzling into a big bicep because it’s warm and hard and you’re never safer than when you’re wrapped up in her. kissing on her arm because you don’t want to pull away to free your hands to speak and you don’t think she wants to either and you like that her skin tastes a little like sweat and you really like how she flexes as soon as your mouth touches her.

it’s always the arms. reaching for her in bed at night, curling your hands around her arm, pulling it against your chest and snuggling it like you would a teddy bear while she snores softly at your side. tugging her arm around your shoulders while standing in line at the supermarket. digging your nails into her forearms when she plants her hands on either side of your head and looms over you with a presence as intimidating as it is dead fucking sexy. telling her she should get tattoos because she’s got the arms for it. she’s not big on pda but she doesn’t mind you hanging onto her arm in public because it makes her feel like you’re never going to leave her and as independent as she is you know she lusts after the loyalty she inspires in you.

when she hangs out topless in boxers at home you’re always ready to fucking fold. when she cooks in training shorts and a sports bra you like to sit and watch, following the ebb and flow of thick muscle beneath her skin as she moves through the kitchen and pretends not to notice how heavy your eyes are on her. when she works out in cropped tanks it’s hard not to drool and you get stuck between wanting to drop to your knees and worship her abs with your tongue and wanting to get pinned down and rendered helpless by her big strong arms.

sometimes you wake up in the morning to maya doing pushups on the floor beside the bed. you roll over to the edge and prop your chin on your hands and watch with a dreamy little smile on your face. when she’s done you drag her into the shower and throw yourself at her under the spray of hot water.

other times you wake up to maya doing pullups on the bar you installed in the doorjamb. sometimes on those days you’ll roll onto your back and prop your legs open and stroke yourself through your underwear while you watch her muscles bulge and flex, pausing to tell her, “ten more,” before going back to playing with your cunt. getting yourself ready for her while you watch her smirk and power through the last of her reps. by the time she’s done and crawling back into bed with you her chest is heaving and her skin is warm to the touch and when you take a fistful of her shirt and pull her down on top of you she’s heavy and solid and her hips fit so well between your legs.

bear hugs. her big muscly arms draped around your neck, your face nuzzled against her throat. her hands on your legs while you lay on the couch with a movie on in the background. her fingers working the knots from your back after a long day, pressing your skin, stroking your muscles like she can convince them to ease up and stay that way if only she touches you in the perfect spot. coming up behind you while you’re cooking and draping herself over your back, arms over your shoulders, cheek pressed to the side of your head as she rests her weight on you and you can’t even be annoyed about the fact that it’s very hard to cook with a big brawler putting all her weight on you because you love when she gets clingy. you set down the spatula and sign, “puppy,” because you know she’s watching your hands and it’ll make her roll her eyes and grin and because she really does act like a big lapdog sometimes and she knows it. 

wearing her shirts. her hoodies. they’re big on you but you like that, and you like that they smell like her, like she’s right there with you instead of working late. when she works late and you’re bored and lonely you’ll text her nonsensical strings of emojis, or you’ll tell her about whatever garbage television you’re watching in her absence. she’ll usually text back within minutes, always making sure you know you’re as much a priority as her job is. on the rare occasions when she doesn’t text back quickly, you’re not above playing the teasing game. pulling on one of her zip-up sweatshirts with nothing on underneath and sending her a selfie. stripping down and slipping into a pair of her boxers and posing for a picture in front of the standing mirror in her bedroom. her responses rarely betray how much she truly enjoys pictures like those, but an i’ll deal with you when i get home or a behave yourself from maya is the equivalent of a heart-eyes emoji from anyone else. and she does always deal with you when she gets home (and you rarely ever behave), though ‘dealing with you’ can mean anything from eating you out on the couch until you’re trembling and teary and too sensitive to take any more to throwing you over her lap, spanking you red and raw, and slipping her favorite little plug into your ass. 

maya likes to lounge. likes to kick back and sit with her knees propped open wide, likes you on her lap where you can see her and she can see you. claims it’s better even than the view of you bent over with an arch in your back because it’s all in the eyes. so she claims. but you’re fairly certain she just likes you on her lap so she can talk dirty to you. so you’re ready for it when she drops onto the couch and pulls you down to straddle her lap. “you look good,” she’ll say, hands moving slowly, deliberately, because she knows you hate waiting and she loves drawing out the teasing. “like you were made to be on top of me.” and you’ll start to blush, which she loves, too, and she’ll reach up and brush your rosy cheeks with her thumbs to draw attention to your bashfulness. meantime she’s just smiling that little secret half-smile that pulls at the corner of her lips as she gazes up at you through her lashes. “i want to watch you ride me,” she'll tell you, or, “let me sit back and watch you bounce on my dick,” or, “show me how you ride my cock.” doesn’t matter what she says, you’ll do whatever the fuck she wants.

win or lose (though maya has five wins for every loss) you’re her favorite prize, the one she can always count on. she’s indulgent after wins, likes dragging you into the locker room and sweet talking you into stripping down and joining her in the shower. she’ll soap you up until your skin’s all slippery and warm and then she’ll touch you for what feels like hours: coasting her hands down your back, taking handfuls of your ass, pulling you in until your hips are notched against hers, until you’re anchored to each other and nothing in the world could force you apart. she likes how you feel against her, your slick heat on her thigh always warmer even than the hot water, your nipples rubbing against her chest. she’ll kiss you nice and slow, she’ll suck your tongue into her mouth, will touch every inch of your body she can reach, reacquainting herself with how you feel when you’re laid bare for her. when she touches you between your legs where you need it most it’s all gentle, unrelenting pressure, and it’s all so soft. fighting’s her outlet, you’re her reward, and she treats you like you’re priceless. 

it’s different after a loss. when things don’t go her way in the ring she won’t bother with a shower, she’ll just grab her bag and then grab you and take you home. sometimes you don’t even make it to the bedroom before her aggression surfaces and she bends you over the kitchen counter, the dining table, or presses you up against the wall in the hallway and yanks your pants down and forces a knee between your thighs so she can rut against you, fucking you into a hard surface because there’s nowhere else to put her frustration and she knows you like to take it. when she loses, round two is you on your knees with her leg over your shoulder and a hand in your hair, holding you steady while she uses you to get off. fucks herself on your face, rubs her cunt against your mouth and nose while you do your best to keep up with your tongue without losing your breath. round three is you on your back, legs hooked around her waist, pussy stretched around her favorite strap while she pounds into you, fucks you open, one hand wrapped around your throat so she can feel every last little sound you make.

win or lose, you love her. you’d be crazy not to.

#maya lopez headcanons #maya lopez x reader #maya lopez imagine #maya lopez imagines #echo imagines #maya lopez fanfiction #echo headcanons #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #maya #headcanons #hcs #rated: e

[howlinchickhowl]

I'm back, with a little belated dirty ditty for pornstar day, i wouldn't read this one at your desk pals. @gallavichthings 👋

Your Sweet Thing is Wreckin' Me seventeen - pornstar

He’s hotter in person. If that’s possible. Which it apparently is. You wouldn’t believe it was. But it is. He is. Way hotter, actually, than however many hours of videos Mickey has watched have allowed him to comprehend.

He’s hot. Is the bottom line. Mickey feels like his mouth is simultaneously watering and dry. They are posed together on the bed, still fully clothed in jeans and t-shirts and socks. Boots lined up neatly together by the door.

Ian’s big arm is resting around Mickey’s lower back, fingertips grazing at the skin of his hip just under the hem of his shirt in little drags that are making Mickey quiver. His other hand is covering Mickey’s knee, his whole knee just swallowed up under Ian’s massive palm, warm and dry and possessive.

It’s for show, of course. They’ve only just met, have only just exchanged names and sti test results before settling in, Ian wrapping himself around Mickey at the director’s request, and Mickey more than happy to be wrapped around.

It’s for show, but it’s not entirely fake. Ian’s effect on Mickey is not insubstantial and Mickey is sure he hadn’t imagined the hungry once over Ian had given him when they’d swapped papers before, pupils widening, glistening tongue slipping out to brush over a plush bottom lip. He’s pretty confident that Ian doesn’t hate the way he looks.

Ian confirms as much when the director starts asking them their warm up questions, a hallmark of HGF that lends an air of authenticity to the scenes and is a huge part of their popularity. What’s Ian’s type? Does he like the look of Mickey? What is he excited about most? Dark, rough, smaller than him, yes definitely, and eating Mickey’s ass, respectively.

Mickey’s own questions, yielded similarly Ian-focused answers, turning his head to look into the guy’s eyes and getting lost in the warm musky smell of him and the feel of his fingers gripping at Mickey’s hip.

And then they are kissing, and grabbing, and groping, and Mickey almost forgets the director and the camera-guy are there, except that the director asks them to move a certain way or switch positions.

Ian makes good on his promise to eat Mickey’s ass, spends a little too long down there despite the director urging him to switch out, just holds Mickey by the hips and goes to fucking town and Mickey spasms his way through nearly coming, finally reaching back and grabbing at Ian’s hair to get him to let up.

He gets to wrap his lips around Ian’s fucking megalith of a cock, even more mouthwatering up close and in person than on his screen at home, and he thinks he does a pretty good job judging by the way Ian’s hips keep jolting and his thighs shake under Mickey’s hands until Ian grabs him, basically by the ears and pulls him up into a mind-bending kiss that has Mickey so turned around he barely even notices that Ian has slathered him in lube and shoved a trio of thick freckled fingers inside of him until he pulls them out and replaces them with the main event.

Ian’s a pro, so it’s not exactly a scramble to the finish line, but Mickey’s quite proud of how franticly he seems to be pounding into him, how he seems determined to cover every inch of Mickey’s skin with his own even though the director keeps asking him to pull up and give the camera a little room. He does it, but he always ends up back in full contact mode, hands gripping at Mickey’s hips and shoulders and hands and face, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until he pulls away, pulls out with a deep groan and blows his load all over Mickey’s chest and stomach and cock.

He falls down next to Mickey, bringing him off with one hand while threading the other through Mickey’s hair and pulling him into an incongruously tender kiss. They kiss while Mickey comes and into the afterglow, pulling apart to laugh when the director finally calls cut.

That was a hell of a ride, Mickey thinks to himself, laying on the bed catching his breath for a minute while Ian and the director shoot the shit. He’ll never watch another Ian video the same way again, maybe he’ll never watch another one, worried they’ll pale in comparison now that he’s had the full sensory experience. He gives himself a moment of sadness to mourn the death of some of his favourite jerkoff material.

Turns out though, once Ian has pulled him into the shower for a thorough rub down and a real-world fuck, he doesn’t need to worry about it.

#fic #my fic #my writing #howl does a.u.gust #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #rated: e

[supercanaries]

Where day meets night

Fandom: My Hero Academia Ship: Dabi/Hawks Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,876 Summary:

“Good job, Firefly.” Though quiet, Hawks manages to slur the name in a way that is annoying to say the least, rolling it on his tongue like it’s cherry. “You’ve caught the bird, alright!” He sounds teasing as always and more dangerous than ever. His voice whistles through the air like the first blowing wind of an implacable storm: relentlessly blooming and only fated to grow. [Pro Hero Touya / Villain Hawks]

AO3 LINK

#dabi hawks #dabihawks #toukei #bnha #mha #fic #ph touya #villain hawks #rated: e

[nine-one-wanton]

An Endless List of Really Impressive Stuff

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Thursday - Day One: "No touching. You'll be patient and wait until I'm done."

Rating: Explicit (E) - Porn (with feelings!)

Summary:

After their flawed first date, where Buck ended up panicking, and Tommy ends up calling it a night early - Tommy tries a more private venue for a redo.

Buck’s sexual history has been one of ‘going through the motions’ (and going through them very well), so it takes some mental adjustment when Tommy shows him what it’s like to have his own pleasure centered for a change.

Word Count: 3,049

Evan Count: 18

Read on ao3

Notes: For #bucktommyweekend

#bucktommy weekend #bucktommyweekend #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #rated: e #rating: e #my fic

[wordsbyarwen]

And, having broken containment at around 11k words (and with a rating change), Chapter 16 of 'stone in your water' has arrived.

"I fear I may never be the woman I once was." Yennefer turns to Tissaia, studying the movement of chaos around the other woman a moment longer. And then, with quiet confidence borne only in the belief that this is not how it is meant to be, she murmurs: “I don’t fear that.”

Mind the notes, please. Some content warnings. As usual, she divorced canon back in 2020 so no spoilers for the new season.

Read here

#The Witcher #Netflix The Witcher #Yennaia #Yennefer of Vengerberg #Yennefer #Tissaia de Vries #fanfic #rated: e #i now have 2 fics in the +100k word club and i'm not sure how to feel about that #i don't think i would survive another

[pinknishii]

Hiii

I wrote a rated E Eimiko fic with a good sprinkling of angst thrown in hehe.

#eimiko #fanfic #rated: e #sapphic #lgbtq #wlw #angst #raiden #yae miko

[swsapphics-ao3feed]

by specificities

Bo-Katan exhausts herself into a coma and crashes straight into Ursa’s bed. She knows the best way to thank her for not kicking her out. (Mando’a title translation: thank you/lit. I accept a debt)

Words: 999, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Ursa Wren

Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze/Ursa Wren

Additional Tags: Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Lesbian Sex, 2 scary sapphics! what if they kissed?

#specificities #bo katan kryze #ursa wren #bo katan/ursa #ursabo #rated: e #word count: < 1k #genre: pwp #ao3feed

[elthadriel]

Sub!Cody Week Day 2: Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

Relationships: Cody/Rex, Cody/Rex/Fox/Bly/Thorn/Doom/Davijaan

Tags: Enthusiastic Consent, Cuckolding, Felching, Cunnilingus, Polyamorous Clones / Polysexual Clones, Trans CT-7567 | Rex, Trans Male Character, Gangbang, Vaginal Sex, Bondage, Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, mild jealousy, but as a kink, Squirting, Dominant CT-7567 | Rex

Rating: E

Summary:

Rex is close, Cody can hear it in his voice, in the way he’s reduced to short, sharp instructions, telling Davijaan to give him more, harder, deeper, now. Davijaan comes first. It’s been a while, but the way he cuts off his own sounds with a slap of a hand over his mouth is familiar. Rex makes a noise of frustration, but Cody’s whole body aches. Davijaan will have buried right to the hilt, coming deep inside Rex, leaving a mess for them to clean up later, for Cody to clean up later. He pants open mouthed, the image of Rex with white dribbling down his folds enough to get Cody as close as Rex is.

read on ao3

For @subcodyweek Day 2: Threesomes/Moresomes/Gangbangs

#codex #cody/rex #codyrex #cloneshipping #my fic #subcody week #rated: e

[calciseptinefic]

as you wish

a spideypool au inspired by the princess bride

Summary: Several years after having found true love and lost it, talented and brilliant apothecarist Peter finds himself engaged to be married to Duke Harry Osborn, young lord of the realm. It is a marriage of convenience for Peter and nothing more. But the night he is married, Peter is kidnapped by a small team of criminals for unknown reasons. More shockingly, as they run further and further away from all Peter has ever known, the criminals learn they are being relentlessly pursued by the infamous rogue, Deadpool. But not all is as it seems; the longer Peter remains in Deadpool's clutches, the stronger the memories of his past return, and another sinister scheme—one beyond Peter's imagination—begins to unfold.

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || EXPLICIT || Part 01 notes: Many thanks to babygato for her beta! ♥ warnings: none for this chapter

.

The door to the apothecary opens, a familiar tinkle of bells on a rope and the creak of an old oak door. Peter, who is carefully digging out ingredients for an experimental elixir, calls blindly over his shoulder, "Just a moment, please!"

There is no answer. In his focused state, Peter does not notice. He simply makes sure that all of his ingredients—some fragile and rare, some hearty and common—are arranged nicely and neatly on his small worktable before he turns around, wiping his hands on his linen apron. When he notices who it is in the shop, however, his polite smile falls to a frown.

"Wade," Peter says.

"Peter," says Wade.

The other man looks out of place in the apothecary. He is a thing of night and shadows, clothing dark and countenance wicked. His sly smile and cunning eyes war with the warm sunlight coming through the windows and his bulk contrasts with the delicate sway of bundled herbs tied to the rafters. There's a healing gash along his cheek, thin and pink; he has a reputation of starting trouble, and is always bruised or scabbed when Peter sees him.

"Here for more healing salve?" Peter asks, already turning to retrieve two jars of said paste from his stocks. After a short contemplative pause, he also retrieves a small vial of tonic stoppered on his worktable.

"You know me well." Wade's voice and grin are irreverent. "Want to know why I need it?"

CONTINUE ON AO3

#spiderman #deadpool #spideypool #wade wilson #peter parker #fandom: marvel #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker #rated: e

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Nineteen Seventy-Two

Nineteen Seventy- Two

What a year for me.

A year for you.

With betrayal and the ghost of the Boss forever haunting him, Big Boss takes something for himself. (Or, the BBKaz first meeting from BB's possibly skewered POV)

#bbkaz #mgs #fanfic #rated: e #mind the tags as usual blah blah #nate does writing

[peacestew]

Lighter Than I’ve Ever Been

written by @irazor (MinilocIsland on ao3) and @modestytreehouse (Treehouse on ao3)

Even isn’t sure why he needs this so much.  What he knows, though, is that it’s freeing.

LIke having an invisible companion by his side, something that forces him to focus on the present.  Something that pushes his anxiety, his intrusive thoughts, and his worries out to the periphery.

When it feels like the world is sometimes slipping away from him, when he’s feeling frayed at the edges, grasping at things he wishes he was on top of- then at least he can control this.

Can he?

with art by @peacestew ✨

#skam #isak x even #skamedit #evakedit #skam fic #skam fan art #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #MinilocIsland x Treehouse fic #Lighter Than I've Ever Been #now complete! #fic rec #fandom collab #mygifs. #mine. #2022 #go read! #rated: E #intimate and hot #THEM

[magecrafts]

MENACE

natasha romanoff x reader ; you've never been more helpless. nat likes you best like that.

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, cnc, unsafe bdsm practices, no aftercare, somnophilia, heavy choking, one single mention of medical kink

RATED E FOR EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT ; 18+

a/n: i think i remember how to do this. cheers.

Natasha Romanoff is grumpy when you meet her (and sporting a week’s worth of insomnia under her eyes and wearing a tee that’s a little too tight, too, but as appealing as both of those are neither endears you as much as her furrowed brow and little frown).

Two weeks later you’re on recon with her, some assignment dropped into your lap an hour before wheels were expected to be up.

“You’re going into the field, rookie,” Stark told you, and, “Romanoff will babysit you, but if you’re as good as your resume claims you shouldn’t need her.”

Recon only. No engagement unless necessary.

The two of you post up in a slimy cave high in the mountains, half a mile above the entrance to a long forgotten mine that may or may not be the newest hideout of one of Stark’s most-wanted. It’s a stupid assignment, Stark could have sent drones, but you reckon he just wants to see how well you do with bullshit assignments, last minute takeoffs, and taking orders.

“Could be fun,” Natasha says, dangling a flask in front of your face.

“Is this a test?”

She smiles.

An hour later you’re tipsy and breaking a protein bar in half to split for dinner.

“I know this is bullshit,” she says, and to her credit she does sound apologetic, “but Tony likes to test people. He wants to see you prove yourself, you know, make it known that you’re as competent as you are on paper.”

You can’t say that’s not fair. This is, after all, no nine-to-five, but, “How am I supposed to prove myself when there’s fuck-all to do?”

Natasha laughs.

An hour later Natasha’s her own stoic version of piss drunk, you’re far worse off, and you’re staring at each other with a vigor that would scare the hell out of you even if she weren’t your immediate supervisor.

But you’ve always liked fear.

You make the first move: you crawl onto her lap, sink down against toned thighs, and tuck in. Her lips are warm, softer than you’re used to, and she doesn’t protest. She licks into your mouth and clamps her hands around your thighs and though you’ve never crossed a boundary like this before, you can’t see yourself ever going back.

Natasha makes the first move next time.

When she asks you out for drinks the week after you return you assume the address she sends you will be a bar.

It’s her apartment.

Bold.

She answers the door in black fatigues and a tank top and takes you right to her bedroom, sinks down on the edge of the California king, and puts you on her lap. She likes you there, where she can reach all of you, where your chest presses up against hers, and your mouth is right there for the taking. She’s gentle until you push your hands through her hair and tell her, “You don’t have to be so nice, you know.”

She’s never gentle after that.

She likes throwing you around, and likes that you can take it, knows it makes your heart flutter and your cheeks flush when she reminds you time and again how much stronger than you she is. On your back is how she likes you best, with your legs spread open and your knees pushed back as close to your chest as they’ll go.

Sometimes she’ll clamp a hand around your throat and dig her nails into the soft skin beneath your jaw until you can’t breath and you’re clawing at her arm and your vision’s starting to go. Sometimes she won’t let go at all, not until you slip away and your body slackens and she’s left fucking a fake cock into your helpless cunt.

You don’t know what she does to you when you’re out cold until she starts to film it.

Filthy fucking videos, those are, full of her laughter and your inability to protest while she does things like stuff her fist into your sloppy hole or perform a full pelvic exam wherein she dons rubber gloves and leaves you gaping around a speculum far longer than any licensed practitioner ever would.

“Look at you,” she’ll say later after she slaps you back to consciousness and queues up her newest video, “you’re so easy to break.”

It’s easier when you come back to with your mouth empty; when she brings you back and you’ve still got your own panties stuffed into your mouth she never lets you pull them out to catch your breath until she’s had her fun holding you down while you struggle to regain your hold on the world.

Sometimes you wake back up on your own while she’s in the middle of things. You either love or hate those times the most, but you’re never sure which.

“...doesn’t matter if you don’t want it,” she’s saying this time, and she’s blurry above you (and there are three of her and three sets of nails carving jagged red lines down your torso, but you know there will only be one of each in a minute or two), “gonna fuck your whore pussy anyway and you’re going—to—take—it.”

“—Nat—”

“Look who’s awake.”

You can hear the smirk in her voice, can see the bright white glare of her cell camera, and you’re sure you look like hell and that she’s going to give you shit for that later, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Stark should fire you,” she says. “Maybe he will once he finds out you’ve been getting your stupid hole stuffed on camera for months. Or maybe he’d like your little videos. Maybe he’d even want a turn with you, huh? Would you like that?”

No, but only because by her rules you're not allowed to think about anyone else like that.

But you can't say that, not unless you want her to go and make it happen. You learned long ago that Natasha Romanoff is nothing if not genuine in her threats.

“Maybe I would,” you say, low and hoarse, and it almost sounds like a growl.

She finds a pressure point and digs in, and, “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” she says, and you’re out again.

The next morning you wake up to the sun cutting through the window and warming your bare back, waking with you the memories of the night before and bringing it all to a boil in your belly. You want to relive them. You want her to fuck you again, to stuff you full and flood you with desperation and desire.

She pulls the sheets from your body and flips you onto your back, coasting a hand up your shin as she settles at the foot of the bed.

“Show me your pussy,” she says, soft, mocking, like she’s requesting the easiest thing in the world from the dumbest little thing she’s ever met.

Your knees part, legs falling open without thought, and you can tell the slick between your thighs from the night before is still there.

She lifts her brows and looks.

“You look sloppy,” she says, pulling your lips apart and dragging a nail over your clit. “Let me make it worse.” She slaps you before you have time to think and though it hurts it’s the lingering sting that pulls a cry from your throat. It’s been a while since she’s hit you like this, between the thighs, where the shame hurts worse than anything else.

The next time you see it coming, but you don’t stop her. You don’t even bother to keep your legs from trying to clamp shut when she slaps your cunt for the second time, you just screw your eyes shut and force your legs open again because for that you know she won’t stop until you’re crying and begging her to do something—anything—to get you off.

It takes you a minute to focus up when she’s done, to familiarize yourself with the steady throb between your legs and the warm pressure of Natasha pushing something into you.

She’s kneeling between your legs, hands clamped around your thighs to keep them apart as she lazily fucks into you with a cock as thick as your forearm.

“Look at that,” she says with a little laugh. “Even when you’re looser than a ten-cent hooker I can still find something to stretch you out with.”

And you know she can feel you clenching as she tries to ease out, like you’re pulling her in, and if she were any man she’d be spent in sixty seconds or less, but her stamina knows no bounds and even as your hole gushes with relief she’s still driving into you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagines #marvel imagines #rated: e #natasha #!fic #!darkfic

[howlinchickhowl]

RISTRETTO, Chapter 8: April

Ian works the late shift at the Tamp and Grind. It’s not what he always planned to be doing at 22, but it’s a steady paycheck and he doesn’t hate it. When he gains a new colleague with a wicked sense of humor and a sinfully hot boyfriend, he starts to think maybe he should be trying to do more with his life than perfecting his latte art.

Chapters: 8/12

Rating: E

Chapter word count: 13, 971

Chapter summary: 

There’s a sudden rush in his chest, almost like pain. Like his entire heart is seizing, except that it feels incredible, and he has to force himself into a slow exhale to get his treacherous muscles under control.

Mickey swallows in his ear, and it occurs to Ian that he’s been quiet maybe too long while he tried to calm himself down.

“Yeah.” He says, the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah I wanna go on a date with you.”  

Author’s notes: Hi hello it's me! Is this an April Fool's joke you ask? Only one way to find out 😜

(edited to add: there is a brief discussion of suicide, not involving any main characters and not discussed in detail, but i have added a tw for anyone who might find this distressing)

Click here to read chapter 8, or here to start from the beginning.

#ristretto #fic #gallavich fic #ian x mickey fic #wip #coffeeshop au #ian x mickey #gallavich #rated: e #fic update #wip update #tw suicide

[otterandterrierwrites]

Chapters: 2/2 Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo Characters: Leia Organa, Han Solo, Isolder, Luke Skywalker, Chewbacca Additional Tags: Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars: The Courtship of Princess Leia, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff

Summary:

From Hapes comes a handsome prince, offering wealth, wonders, and a proposal that would be hard to refuse... or wouldn't it?

My take on how "The Courtship of Princess Leia" should have begun (and ended).

#hanleia #han x leia #han solo #leia organa #star wars legends #the courtship of princess leia #han and leia #star wars fanfiction #2023 #period: postrotj #rated: E #fix-it

[tomionefinds]

This is such a shameful question so I'm sorry in advance 😂✌ Any smut galore multi-chapter completed fics you can recommend? Thank you!!

Hey Anon,

Absolutely no need to feel ashamed here, you are amongst like minded peers.

I'm just gonna list a fic from a few authors had to set some limits otherwise this would go on and on, but if you need more I recommend using Ao3's search filters too. I put something like over 40k just to try to rein this list in some. LOTS of really great smutty WIPs and oneshots out there.. Check the adultfanfiction site too. To be honest all of these authors have multiple completed multi-chapter explicit works, so I would definitely recommend pulling up their profiles and perusing their other works to see if any other strike your fancy. -JD

Tom, just Tom by Ciule E/Ma | Complete | 121k Lord Voldemort slithered out of the Veil on New Year's Eve in the year 2000. Still bent on world domination, he decided that Golden Girl Granger would be the perfect accessory on his arm.

Nightmare by provocative_envy E/Ma | Complete | 156k A broken time turner shouldn't have sent me back so far. It was unprecedented. Stepping on it--smashing it--nothing should have happened. At most, I should have lost a week. At worst, I should have disappeared altogether. I shouldn't have traveled back fifty-two years; half a bloody century. This should not have happened.

The Prisoner by NerysDax E/Ma | Complete | 182k Imprisoned, Lord Voldemort is considered a threat of the past. His knowledge is desired by many. Yet, his offer is for one person only: Hermione Weasley-Granger.

The Art of Secrecy by mrsren E/Ma | Complete | 63k It had been the perfect one night stand until she, literally, fell face first at his feet and discovered he was her professor.

Bound by Sharkdiver1980 E/Ma | Complete | 59k After a freak accident occurs while attempting to destroy one of Voldemort’s horcruxes that sends Hermione back in time to the year 1947, she finds herself forcefully subjected to a new law put in place by the ministry to counteract the damage to the wizarding population done by Grindelwald. It was no wonder she had never heard of Proclamation no.1682, otherwise known as “The Marriage Law”, since it had obviously been repealed almost as quickly as it was instated. The problem was, she had already been assigned a husband. HG/TMR

Shared Flame by Lady Miya M | Complete | 311k It all started when two normally clever individuals both had a really lousy day.

Dark Seduction by crochetaway E/Ma | Complete | 73k As Tom Riddle is hunting for the diadem in Albania, he stumbles across a strange artifact he's never seen before. Hermione Granger is a lowly Ministry employee on vacation in the mountains of Albania. She's found the perfect cabin for a week of relaxing, hiking and reading. Until a stranger shows up in her living room. Wearing a time-turner. Complete!

Insight & Desire by WildKitsune Series: Every Witch Way [1] E/Ma | Complete | 43k Hermione Granger is the most brilliant witch of her age. This may be why she is arrogant enough to mess with time. Hermione accidentally travels back to Tom's final year at Hogwarts, and on her trip home has a bit of a stowaway. As if one Tom Riddle wasn't hard enough to handle, they seem to be popping up at her everywhere she turns. As Hermione is sucked more deeply into Lord Voldemort's plots, she doesn't know if she will ever escape.

Linen Rope by Brightki E/Ma | Complete | 80k Hermione is an upper sixth student at the highly elite Hogwarts School, and she needs extra hours working in the school’s science labs for her pre-admission to Oxford the next year. However, she has to get the approval from the chemistry teacher, Dr. Snape, as well as the support of the man in charge of the science department - Dr. Tom Riddle.

Pygmalion by Colubrina M | Complete | 178k When Tom Riddle walked through a doorway one fall afternoon everything changed and he found himself in a world wholly unprepared for him. "Something about you makes my brain itch," Hermione Granger said. "As if an earthquake had shifted everything sharply two feet to the left and then back again and it didn't all fit back quite right." Tomione. AU. COMPLETE.

Fated by MiraMain E/Ma | Completed | 136k Voldemort's black gaze stares for what seems like hours. All is silence but my ragged breathing. My bloody lip dripping onto the forest floor. He finally speaks “It shall be a pleasure to bring you into submission Hermione”

#Tomione #Smut #Lots of Smut #multichapter #completed #rated: ma/e #rated: e

[lindtluirae]

🔞 SakuAtsu | Damned if I do, damned if I don’t | Rated E

If Atsumu thought too hard about what he was doing, he would be judging himself.

It was too late now for that anyway, seeing as he was standing on the platform waiting for Sakusa Kiyoomi’s arrival.

Had they met before? Sure. If one counted the volleyball tournaments in which they happened to occupy the same stadium. Atsumu had always been laterally aware of Kiyoomi’s presence; it was hard not to notice someone so talented.

What followed was… well.

It started innocuously enough. Not that Atsumu actually remembered why he texted Kiyoomi in the first place. It had something to do with volleyball, to be certain, but how that spiralled to their current predicament was beyond him.

He balanced on his toes, rocking in place to channel all the pent up energy choking him. He hadn’t slept a wink last night.

Not that he hadn’t tried. Kiyoomi just happened to be more persuasive.

Atsumu could feel his face warm thinking of all the promises Kiyoomi made him over the months for when they finally met.

How was he expected to act now? Would it be okay to just… reach out and touch Kiyoomi? Would Kiyoomi even find him attractive once they stood face to face, without a screen between them?

Just as he was about to vibrate out of his own skin, the train came to a stop, and Atsumu lost his breath.

He would notice that curly hair anywhere.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, schooling his expression as he raised his arm to wave.

Obsidian eyes zeroed in on him, dark and intense over the edge of his mask, and Atsumu had to remind himself that they weren’t anything. Late night calls and fun push and pull conversations notwithstanding.

No matter how much he wanted to fall right back to where they left off during their call, he had to get a grip on himself.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said as he came to a stop before him, and wasn’t that something? To be this close, to hear his voice without the whoosh of a phone line between them.

“Omi.” Maybe he sounded a little breathless. Maybe there was no helping this or the giddiness he felt. “You made it.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes creased in a faint smile. “I did.”

“It’s good to see you,” Atsumu said. “At last.”

Kiyoomi’s smile, although hidden, was making him feel all sorts of things. “I guess your hair is really not piss yellow anymore.”

“Not that again,” Atsumu groaned, turning around to lead the way. “I showed you proof Omi, you just like bullying me.”

“Hmm.”

Atsumu led them to his car. It was his Ma’s but she agreed to lend it to him for the weekend so he could show Kiyoomi around Hyogo.

Though if Atsumu were to be honest, sightseeing was the last thing on his mind.

And then he and Kiyoomi were out of sight, sitting next to each other with only the centre console separating them. Atsumu stared hard at the windshield, not really seeing it as his skin prickled under the weight of Kiyoomi’s gaze. “So…”

“So.” He could hear the teasing lilt in Kiyoomi’s voice.

“Fuck it,” Atsumu mumbled, twisting in his seat.

Kiyoomi’s body jerked in surprise as Asumu tucked his mask out of the way and kissed him into his seat. He pulled back an inch to let out a strained breath. “Sorry, just… been wanting to do that for a long fuckin’ time now, Omi.”

Kiyoomi cleared his throat, cheeks beginning to pink. “Forgive me for thinking you’d at least wait until after we’ve made it to your house.”

Leaning back in his seat, Atsumu made a silly face. “No can do.”

“Needy bastard,” Kiyoomi teased.

“You love it,” Atsumu returned blithely, and reversed out of his parking spot.

*

Atsumu’s Ma was out for the day, and Osamu was at Suna’s, probably playing video games and shit talking Atsumu, but for once he didn’t care.

Because their absence meant that the moment he and Kiyoomi stepped into Atsumu’s home, Atsumu could turn around and pin Kiyoomi against the door.

“Eager aren’t we?” Kiyoomi murmured, allowing himself to be caged in Atsumu’s arms.

“Like you don’t wanna kiss me too, Omi,” Atsumu challenged, meeting his eyes.

They darkened, and Atsumu shivered when Kiyoomi leaned closer, his breath feathering over Atsumu’s chin. “I’m not the one pressing you to the door, At-su-mu.”

With willpower he didn’t know he possessed, Atsumu pried himself off Kiyoomi to take a few steps back, sighing resignedly. “I guess you don’t want to kiss me after al—”

Atsumu was reeled in too suddenly, the words dying on his lips as Kiyoomi’s mouth crashed down on his. Atsumu was encircled in strong arms and tucked against the open heat of Kiyoomi’s body as Kiyoomi’s mouth claimed him. “You talk too damn much.”

Teeth sunk in his bottom lip, shutting his protest to replace it by a groan. “Did you forget already?” Kiyoomi whispered hotly, hands slipping lower to grab two handfuls of Atsumu’s ass. “What I wanted to do to you?”

“Maybe you’re just all talk,” Atsumu riled, even as his breath wheezed out of him and his cock twitched in his pants. “Did you forget what I wanted to do to you?”

Their mouths collided again, a little roughly, and Atsumu moaned, sinking all ten fingers in Kiyoomi’s curls to pull savagely.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered as he pushed his knee between Kiyoomi’s thighs and found him hard. “Please let me fuck you.”

“At least take me out to dinner first,” Kiyoomi bit out as Atsumu pressed his knee up where Kiyoomi ached.

“Is that what you want?” Atsumu rasped breathlessly. “Dinner, Omi?”

Kiyoomi’s head fell back with a strained breath, and Atsumu took that opportunity to latch his mouth to the milky curve of his neck. “Do you know what I want?”

“What?” Kiyoomi choked out, gripping his hips.

“I want you,” Atsumu bit at his neck. “In my bed. Naked.”

“Fuck, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi gasped out when Atsumu’s hand slid lower to press over his crotch.

“I want this in my mouth,” Atsumu murmured, so hard he was aching. “Would you put your cock in my mouth, Omi?”

“Shit,” Kiyoomi said, pushing him off. “Do it.”

Atsumu didn’t need to be told twice.

He didn’t care that they were in the middle of the hallway, that his door wasn’t even locked. All that mattered was the hundred fantasies he’d weaved for months now, of taking this man apart.

He fell to his knees, hungry and ungraceful, to fumble with Kiyoomi’s zipper and yank down his jeans. Kiyoomi stumbled, falling back against the door to steady himself as Atsumu clutched his hips and dove down to bury his face in Kiyoomi crotch.

A groan rumbled in his chest. “Fuck me, you’re everything.”

Kiyoomi’s shaky hand settled on his head, clutching his hair for support. “Shut up and get to it.”

“Fuck you, I’ve wanted this for months, let me savour it,” Atsumu retorted, his own hands shaking as he peeled down Kiyoomi’s boxers. “Fuck baby, you’re so hard for me.”

Kiyoomi gnawed on his lips, and Atsumu, driven insane with lust, nuzzled the crease of his thigh, looking up at him with so much hunger that Kiyoomi’s eyes squeezed shut and his breaths trembled. “…please.”

Fuck, Atsumu was a goner.

He parted his lips, his tongue curling around the head, and delighted in the twitch of Kiyoomi’s hips. “Don’t tease.”

Atsumu rubbed his cheek against Kiyoomi’s cock, grinning. “Or what?”

Kiyoomi’s thumb pinched Atsumu’s chin, his eyes so dark and desirous that Atsumu felt himself leaking precum into his underwear. “Open your mouth, Atsumu.”

A thrill jolted down his body as he complied, parting his lips for Kiyoomi to feed him his cock. “There,” Kiyoomi breathed. “All it takes to shut you up is a cock in your mouth, right baby?”

Atsumu moaned, his body throbbing as Kiyoomi’s straining length pushed down his throat, so hot and heavy. He hollowed his cheeks, trying to take more of him in, suddenly desperate to be full.

“Shit, you’re so hungry for it.” Kiyoomi’s hips thrust forward, making Atsumu choke. But Atsumu didn’t draw back, instead relishing the sting of tears in his eyes and the way his jaw strained. “Do you want me to fuck your throat, baby?”

Atsumu was going to die as he tried to nod his head, his eyes pleading fervently for it.

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi groaned, thrusting again. “God, I want to ruin you.”

Atsumu was already ruined. On his knees and slobbering, and so hard he could burst from it.

Kiyoomi was going to cum down his throat and he needed it with everything within him. He bobbed his head, trying to meet him halfway, drunk on the expletives bursting out of Kiyoomi’s mouth.

“Shit, Atsumu—” Kiyoomi pulled out, panting. “Wait baby, wait.”

“No,” Atsumu gripped his thighs. “Need you to finish. In my mouth.”

Kiyoomi looked wrecked.

Asumu felt gone.

Kiyoomi’s hard cock was placed in his mouth again, and Atsumu was hit by the fact yet again that this was Kiyoomi, the man he’d been fantasised about for so long now, the man he touched himself to on lonely nights, the man who made him cum on camera just to watch the way his face twisted.

And now Atsumu got to see Kiyoomi fall apart.

He didn't realise he was coming too until a hot thrill seized him and his hips jerked, rolling into nothing as he spurted in his pants, and Kiyoomi flooded his mouth.

Atsumu moaned brokenly, overcome by the way his mouth was all too full of Kiyoomi, by the bruising hands in his hair, by Kiyoomi’s raw groans.

He pulled off to breath, his chin glistening with Kiyoomi’s release to gasp in a breath and wipe his face with the back of his hand. “Shit, that was so hot.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes were heavy lidded and hazy. “Come here.”

Atsumu rose on wobbly knees to meet Kiyoomi’s sated kiss. “How do you want me?”

“It’s okay,” Atsumu said, a little embarrassedly, and wrapped his arms around Kiyoomi’s shoulders. “I already finished.”

Kiyoomi’s eyebrows arched.

Blushing, Atsumu kissed him to avoid his eyes.

Kiyoomi met him kiss for kiss, their tongues brushing tentatively until Atsumu’s heart was in pieces. “Lay in bed with me?”

“Okay,” Kiyoomi agreed, brushing a hand through Atsumu’s hair.

Atsumu took his hand in his and led him to his and Osamu’s room.

His bunk bed wasn’t big enough for two athletes, but Atsumu was glad for it, because it meant he and Kiyoomi could lay flushed side to side, faces inches apart to breathe each other in, and wasn’t that what Atsumu really wanted?

To be reduced, to be shattered and remade by Kiyoomi’s hands until nothing else mattered?

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Atsumu whispered as they laid there in his sun soaked bedroom, in his too warm sheets, smelling like sex and Kiyoomi’s spicy cologne.

Atsumu could smell Kiyoomi all over his body.

His heart squeezed at the feeling of being claimed, even when Kiyoomi wasn’t his, and he wasn’t Kiyoomi’s. But he could indulge… he could indulge and then think later.

Kiyoomi’s leg slipped between his. “I wanted to see you, too.”

“Was it like you imagined?” Atsumu asked tentatively.

“Mhm,” Kiyoomi hummed, nuzzling his throat.

Atsumu ran his fingers through soft, silky curls and felt his chest grow heavier. He leaned down to bury his face in Kiyoomi’s hair. “Omi.”

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi returned softly.

“Would you let me love you?”

He shouldn’t ask, he knew, because Atsumu wouldn’t like the answer. Because they were too complicated and Kiyoomi was hung up over Ushijima and Atsumu over Kita, and yet here they laid in his bed and Atsumu wanted, so viciously, to belong. “Let me love you, Omi.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kiyoomi said, regretful.

Atsumu clutched him tighter, taking that for the denial it was. “I want you.”

“I’m here,” Kiyoomi reassured, curving over him.

Their lips met, slow and savouring, and Atsumu pretended his eyes weren’t stinging with tears as his arms encircled Kiyoomi and held them chest to chest. “I’d treat you so well,” Atsumu choked out.

“I know baby,” Kiyoomi shushed him, pressing sweet kisses to the corners of his lips. “Let's not think about it right now, okay?”

“Okay,” Atsumu nodded, pulling him down again. “Kiss me more.”

“Come here,” Kiyoomi said, brushing his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Atsumu rolled over him, kissing him breathless and trying to drown himself in it before he drowned inside his own feelings. He had a lot of love to give, Osamu always told him that he’d get himself hurt trying to give it to people who didn’t want it.

But what could Atsumu do? Keeping it inside him would inevitably kill him. It tended to bleed out of him, and he was helpless to stop it.

His hands mapped down Kiyoomi’s lithe body, relishing every inch. “You’re so beautiful, Omi,” he whispered.

“You are too,” Kiyoomi touched his face as Atsumu sank down for another kiss.

“I can’t believe I get to hold you like this.” Atsumu’s whisper was a little broken as he stroked his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair and pressed kisses over his face. He nuzzled his cheeks, breathing tremulously. “You’re so perfect, Omi.”

“Stop it,” Kiyoomi said, embarrassed.

“No,” Atsumu denied, leaning back to watch him. He ran his fingers down Kiyoomi’s body again. “I’m going to touch you… and kiss you… and take care of you…”

Atsumu’s hand wrapped around Kiyoomi’s throat, though there was no pressure behind the action. “And love you,” he added in a softer whisper. “Even if it hurts me.”

He could feel Kiyoomi’s thick swallow beneath his hand. “You’re crazy.”

Atsumu leaned down to kiss him again. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me,” Atsumu vowed against his lips.

“Atsumu…”

Atsumu seared his taste on Kiyoomi’s lips, leaning down to nuzzle the space behind his ear. “Mine.”

Kiyoomi whimpered.

“Mine, Omi. Say it.”

Kiyoomi swallowed shakily, and then, “Yours.”

“That’s right,” Atsumu agreed, choking on his own breaths. “Mine, Omi. I’m going to make you forget the world.”

“Please,” Kiyoomi pleaded, clutching his shoulders in a bruising grip.

“I’ve got you,” Atsumu reassured, pressing his whole weight down on Kiyoomi until they were suffocating each other, and Kiyoomi was all he could breathe, see and touch. “Look at me baby,” Atsumu touched his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

Kiyoomi nodded rapidly.

“My love,” Atsumu sighed, kissing the sweet breath from Kiyoomi’s lips.

Mine, mine, mine, Atsumu thought fervently, and wished for it to be true.

#haikyuu #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #lindtluirae writes #one-shot #smut #rated: E #fanfiction