Itsmeamysworld - Amy

seb & evans voiceovers in the cap video game im wheezing gosh this is so gay

Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it.

So I went to my therapist the other day, and later in the appointment I mentioned that I like to write self-insert fiction to cope. I also said that I generally hide it and felt embarrassed mentioning it due to the way people treat the concept online.

She said that self-inserting yourself into art and writing is an incredibly healthy way to feel good about yourself, and that she was appalled when I told her about the way it’s mocked on the internet.

So never feel bad about self-inserting or enjoying reader insert fanfiction, 1/1 professionals agree that it’s good for you and that the jerks who say you’re doing something wrong are just uneducated and don’t understand. Never listen to the anons who try to make you feel bad <3 

Have a really nice day!

Sometimes I just start singing and my mom joins in

Clint: I failed the exercise test.

Natasha: How?

Clint:They asked me to run and I said no.

mdni | 18+ | pt. 1

cw/ size difference, dacryphilia, cucking, bi panic, slight dubcon

“It's all right, luv,” Simon whispered reassuringly as he stroked your thigh comfortingly with his thumb. “Johnny doesn’t think your sweet cunt can take me in. You’re just gonna show him that’s not true, yeah?”

You didn’t know what had happened between the two while you were away. But whatever it was made you spread your legs on your boyfriend’s lap, in nothing but your underwear and a spaghetti top, while his best friend watched you two on the small coffee table a few centimeters away.

“Looks like a little dolly on yer lap,” Johnny grunted out as he enjoyed the view in front of him. “Aren’t ya gonna answer Simon, bonnie?”

You nodded a little shyly. You and Simon had been dating for a while now and Johnny’s presence was one you were used to, but not like this - never like this. “…yes, m’sorry.” You mumbled out after Johnny prompted you. Of course you didn't know what to say, your thoughts were probably all over the place right now.

Your boyfriend hummed deeply, causing your skin to prickle with excitement. “Don’t worry about it, you just get a little dumb when I touch you like this, hm? You like being looked at while I do it?” He asked you while his thumb rubbed circles over your clothed clit at the same time.

You nodded slightly embarrassed and turned your eyes away from Johnny, whose gaze was fixed on Simon’s movements. “Hmm, yes...”

“Yeah?” Simon repeated your answer as he spread your leg wider with one hand on your thigh to give his best friend a better view of your cunt. “Let him see a bit more then,” he replied as he grabbed the side of your panties so that he could pull them away from your pussy. He always liked fucking you while you kept them on since they looked so cute on you. Such a stark contrast against his throbbing dick.

Johnny groaned as he caught sight of your puffy little hole and held his cock over his pants as if trying to control himself. “Bloody hell, were ya two fuckin’ last night or why does her cunt look so damn raw?”

Simon tried shoving your panties even further to the side, hooking his other arm under your thigh so he could push your lips apart since he wanted to get a better look. “This morning, actually.” He replied curtly while looking over your shoulder for a second, before lifting your body a little so that he could pull down his sweatpants and boxers. “She should be prepped enough. What do you think mate, should I just tuck it in?” He asked his best friend, talking over you as if you weren’t even there - as if you had no say in anything because you were only here to take what Simon was willing to give you.

You felt yourself getting wetter at the thought and instinctively wanted to close your legs to cause some friction. Though, your boyfriend kept a firm grip on your leg as he waited for a response.

Johnny’s eyes glazed over at how big Simon’s cock was next to your swollen little hole. He watched as he began to rub it with your slick, imagining taking his friends cock deep down his throat so that he could slide into you even easier afterward. “It’s still gonna hurt...” he mumbled to himself, wanting to see it happen.

Simon grunted. “It’s gonna hurt no matter what I do.” He stated. “Even bled like a virgin the first time we did it.”

A groan escaped Johnny’s mouth as he threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut to keep himself from cumming in his pants like a pathetic loser here and now. “Do it then. Force it in her, aye?”

Simon's eyes finally met yours. “You heard him, luv.” Was all he said as he moved your body the way he wanted - as if you really were just his little dolly. He spread your legs wide with his hands before briefly releasing his hold on your body so that he could position his tip at your sensitive opening.

You could already feel the first tears gathering in your eyes when your boyfriend stuffed you bit by bit. He tried to comfort you with his closeness and hushed whispers, but he didn’t slow down even when you begged him to. “Please Si. It hurts, hurts so much. Stop for a second.” You cried out but Simon made no move to comply with your request. “Hush, m‘almost done. Just take the last bit like a good girl and cry some more for me, yeah?” He whispered in a grunting voice, squeezing the rest into you with one last thrust and sighing happily after he felt his hips touch your ass. “Good. Now spread your legs.” He ordered you after he released his grip so that you could shakily show off what was going on between them.

Simon was pleased with your presentation as he pulled your shirt over your breasts so you could look even prettier for them. “You see that Johnny?” He asked him as if he hadn’t been trying not to blink for the last few minutes so that he wouldn’t miss anything. “Pretty girl, took it to the hilt.”

“Aye, looks like ya were right...” He replied and didn’t mind losing the little argument between them. Not in the slightest, he thought while his eyes remained focused on the scene before him.

“Should help her out then since you underestimated her so much, hm?”

a/n: sorry there’s so much drama in this one LOL im nothing if not a sucker for nightmare tropes

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated!

-want to leave a tip? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon Riley/Reader

3.

As the morning sun rose and shone through the splintered gaps of the boarded up window, you realized how exactly Ghost got his name.

You weren't sure when he'd arrived, but he was certainly your sight for sore eyes, rising from your fitful slumber. His back faces you, the light dances over the darkness of his tactical gear. For just a moment, you allow yourself to take it in. The birds outside offer a lovely soundtrack. His chair creaks underneath him while his weight shifts.

"Mornin'." Is all he says.

It takes a couple seconds before you're able to sit upright. Your back aches something awful, and you aren't sure if you've ever felt so thirsty in your entire life. Lucky for you, it seemed your friend had brought a couple of gifts. Four water bottles and what appeared to be a few bags of jerky and an assortment of nuts. Your stomach grumbles at the thought, upset at you for not feeding it sooner.

You mumble a good morning as you rise to your feet and take the chair next to him. If not for the situation at hand, you were sure this would have been a lovely morning indeed. The situation at hand only grows worse when Ghost breaks some news.

48 hours, he'd said with a flat tone. Meeting someone out in Las Almas.

For two days you'd be alone, cramped up in this shed with nothing but the everlasting sound of nature as entertainment. To hide the disdain on your face, you grab at one of the bottles and take a long swig. It doesn't work. But it also doesn't stop him from taking his leave less than an hour later.

The rest of the day was spent in phases of isolation. The first phase, immediate boredom, came with anxiety quickly in tow. Ghost would be across the country and you were merely a few miles away from base. It was over if someone decided to stray away just as you used to do and actually found you here. Running couldn't save you forever.

Phase two was quieter. Your left side ached as the bruises began to settle deep into your bones. The birds chirped high in the sky, your tired eyes numbly watching the light cracking through the windows morph from a proud yellow to a dim orange. And, eventually, white with the moon casting through the trees.

You slept better that night- fed and hydrated, mind empty and full all at once with questions. What if's haunted you deep in your core.

By day two you were starting to feel better, but the air around you felt heavier than before. Moist, almost. The shed was dim. When you peeked outside, tentative and afraid that even poking your head out the door would render your life over, you realized that dark clouds had rolled over the sky and parked right on above. Wind blew through the leaves and you could practically smell the impending storm brewing.

When it began to rain, late into the evening, it was nothing too serious. Light pattering on the thin roof, a couple drops slipping through gaps in the shingles and puddling on the floor.

When the thunder cracked over the sky it almost sounded like a bomb. You jumped in your seat so hard you almost fell off, scampering to the window and peeking through the tiny cracks. The wind had grown menacing, tearing through the branches and launching leaves to the grass. Just as before, the sky remained just as baleful as it had been that afternoon.

Eventually, the rain began to come down like it was hail. It beat the roof ruthlessly, more and more water gathering on the floor as it forced its way through the ramshackle shed. You tucked yourself up on the chair, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to have faith in your little shack to keep you safe. There was nowhere else to go- this was it. With no blanket, you were reduced to a shivering mess, listening to the deafening chants of the falling rain.

But, even through it, you could still make out something else.

A great clap of thunder. The unmistakable sound of craning wood. And then an ear-splitting crash. You'd barely even managed to hop from your chair in time.

You felt the wind on your skin before you felt anything else.

And then, water. Lots of it- soaking you almost instantaneously. Pieces of wood and metal lay at your feet, surrounding you, your mind struggling to grasp what the hell was going on. Roaring gusts of wind echoed in your ears.

Standing there, your eyes finally adjusted through the murky darkness just enough to see leaves and branches bent at all angles before you. A great tree lays horizontal through the shed, mere feet away from where you stood. Moon poured in through the gaping maw of what used to be the roof.

The chairs you and Ghost once shared lay shattered to bits under its mammoth weight.

The tree welcomed the entire night into your little safe haven. Angry outbursts of winds, the relentless rain showering every inch of your body. In an attempt to protect yourself, you crushed yourself up into a corner of the shed, the only part of it with a chunk of roof remaining semi-intact. It bowed down, barely held up by the wooden posts, but it dipped just enough where the water ran down it and pooled at your feet.

Tears bite at your eyes, and you let them. They fall in heavy streaks.

And your chest heaved, your hands shook. The storm swallowed your cries, hungry and angry and ripping away any last remaining shred of normalcy you had. Everything around you seemed to be riddled with fractures just waiting to shatter. You grieved the life you had merely three days ago- spent more on the upside than down and wasting your in-between hours alongside Ghost.

Ghost. Beautiful, enigmatic, scary Ghost. With all of those rough edges and those forlorn eyes. He haunts your mind as you fold into yourself, but your limbs offer little cover to the elements. Your head hurts, your body aches something deep and awful. Your skin burns at the cocktail assaulting you- equal parts the pelting rain and the whipping of the wind pitching shards of wood and glass at your weak frame.

A part of you wonders if this would be your demise. If, out of all the wrong cursing your life, this would be your downfall. Cramped in the corner of a shed attempting to outlive mother nature like some pitiful stray thing. Your protective grip on yourself tightens. The nightmare doesn't end.

And the storm rages longer than you can stay awake for.

You remain where you sit even in your dreams. The world is all underwater garbles, the branches of the fallen tree try to reach out and grasp at your shaking body. It's almost like being in a bubble- feeling so full an empty all at once. Hearing the raging storm but it's booming voice just can't seem to fully reach you. But, you swear you hear something else.

You swear, with your face tucked into your knees, you can hear your voice rising above the thunder and the whirlwind.

And then it's like you can feel hands on your skin. Gloved, but warm. Something soft and fuzzy tucked wrapped around you. Those hands pull your arms off your cut-up legs and then you're weightless. It reminds you of your fall. Weightless, hung by your hand. Your eyes screw shut and you're torn from your spot like a ragdoll. Clearly, your soul must be leaving your body.

"-Up."

That faraway voice reaches you. It tears through the veil.

"-Hear m-"

You blink. Everything suddenly rushes in- real. The lamenting winds, the torrent of rain, the creaking of wood and the whipping of leaves on shaking branches.

The softness of a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Then, it all stops when you lock eyes with those familiar, melancholic blues. He's shrouded in black, the edges of his form painted in the most beautiful of blues, droplets gathered on his gear reflecting in what little light the moon could creep through those rich clouds. He touches your face. He holds your face. And then he's picking you up like you're broken and you try to remember the last time you've been treated with some fragility. You try to think back to a time when you'd been treated with such care.

"Ghost." You murmur, your own voice the loudest thing reaching your ears.

"Me." He says, and it draws tears of relief to your already wet eyes. You sink into his large arms, allow him to duck out of what remained of the shed. Allow him to pull you to his chest so tightly it's almost too much of him. Almost.

But it never gets to the point. You press your head against him and swear you can hear his heartbeat thrashing in his ribcage, restless. For the first time that night, you felt safe. Utterly safe in his hold. If your body could say thank you, it would have.

The relief knocks you out a moment later.

----------

It's warm when you stir awake. Quiet.

Soft.

When your eyes open, met with a burst of yellow light, you struggle to grasp where you were. Your elbows try to prop you up, but they sink into something plush.

It takes a few moments to realize you're a sopping-wet mess laying atop a couch. Your clothes stuck you grossly, but the cushions you lap upon make it hard to feel uncomfortable. You almost wondered if this was the dream. If you were going to wake any moment in a jump to defend yourself or run, scamper into the stormy night and earn one more day on earth.

But then you see a window with tightly shut blinds. You see a coffee table with coasters, a tiny TV mounted on a wooden entertainment center. An air conditioner pokes out of the wall and it strikes you how similar it is to your flat back at the base.

Like instinct, you glance to your right, and sure enough, you're met with a kitchen you recognize so eerily you have to pinch yourself. A half wall divides the two rooms, the stove visible with the steam outpouring from a kettle.

You were back at base. You were sure of it now.

But it was as if your flat never had the loving touch of personal taste. No photos, no decor. Void of anything to suggest a person with a life worth living inhabited it. It felt hauntingly empty. The same blanket you'd had tucked against you lay a crumpled pile atop the armrest. Your eyes linger on it longer than they should, mind still half empty with sleep and confusion.

You reach out, and you draw your fingers along the blissfully soft fabric of the blanket. It reminds you of your own blankets, and the saddening realization that you may never get a bed of your own ever again, should you not clear your name somehow. You get lost in your thoughts, idly running your fingers along the blanket, still damp from the rain.

"Enjoyin' yourself?"

Ghost's voice pops you out of the bubble you'd slipped into. He stands there in the kitchen, his torso visible over the dividing half wall. The first thing you notice is his evening attire- a skull print etched over a his black fabric mask and a casual black t-shirt spread gaunt over his muscles. It never struck you how naked he looked without his gear on. How bare he seemed with his ruffled blonde hair and thick eyebrows on full display.

The second thing you notice is the sudden shrew scream of the kettle, forgotten on the stove. Ghost settles a pile of clothes on the table and turns to tend to the piercing sound.

For some reason, your mind remains far away. Like you're watching through a lens, not truly where you were. All your brain seemed to want to focus on was the softness of the blanket. The faint smell of amber spice lingering in the air. Your eyes travel to the outline of Ghost, particularly to the broadness of his shoulders, and to the way he moved so languidly, pouring water into a pair of mugs.

You don't even fully realize it when he's suddenly walked directly in front of you, your mind lagging. The mugs are set on the coffee table, and in two snaps of his fingers an inch away from your face, you're blinking up at him like you'd been ripped from a trance.

"You there?" He asks, and you finally offer a response.

"I'm here." You murmur, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm confused. Are we at mine?"

Ghost shakes his head. "Mine."

Your stomach drops like lead. Settles in your gut when he adds, so keep your head down. It's a struggle to digest his words when you're suddenly keenly aware that one wrong move, one wrong sound would have you surrounded. It would be over before the chase even began. Ghost senses your dismay- reads it off the lines in your face that drag your features into a sinking frown.

"No where else to bring you." He admits, settling beside you. "This'll do for now. Just got to keep your head down."

His words do so little to ease you that it actually makes you laugh. Low, pitiful chuckles. "Simon Riley harboring a fugitive. You're a changed man."

"Not changed anything. You'd do it for me." Is all he says with a huff, and you know he's telling the truth. He reaches down and grasps a mug, and he brings it to your lap.

Your hands shake as they reach out, the chill of wet clothes still biting at your bones. It's nearly comical when you take the mug into your own hands, the immediate ripples bouncing off the walls as it shook in your hold.

"Christ. Give me that." Ghost sighs, and before you're even able to respond, he's plucking the cup from your trembling fingers.

Then he's bringing it to your lips and you're so excited to finally drink something that you barely even register how close he is. How he has to shrink himself to be beside you, how gently he tips the mug back while you sip. The warmth drops to the floor of your empty stomach and relief washes over you so intensely it nearly draws tears. How emotional you’d become, the last few days pushing you to your limits. But now you have real shelter, Ghost at your side, a bit more color in your vision and of course the luxury of warm tea.

You're so eager to get it down that droplets gather and fall from the corners of your lips. They dribble down your chin and you pull away with a grimace, swiping at your skin.

" 'Sposed to drink it." Ghost says, and it leaves him so sweetly.

You match the smile you swore you'd heard in his words. When Ghost brings the cup back up to your lips, much less tentative this time around, you can't help but subconsciously reach up to paw at this wrist. The dull ache of an empty stomach ebbs away as you empty the cup, and finally, your sore muscles relax into jelly.

"There you go." Ghost's voice, low and observant. Something in the tone makes you squirm under your skin, and you're met with the reality of being disappointed when he pulls away and sets the cup aside.

It makes you all too aware of the heat over your face, and you lower your head to escape his gaze. A quiet thanks leaves your lips.

"Clothes are on the table, no chance they'll fit you though. Better than being soaked." Ghost's large hands clap over your knee before he stands up. "Washrooms on the left."

When he leaves the room, and you start feeling that gnawing sense of isolation, you finally take to standing and wander into the bathroom. Its white light on even whiter walls blind you for a moment. When your eyes adjust, you're met with eyebags and wet, messy hair. Cut up arms and shaking hands. You look like you've aged 10 years. Your wet clothes plop down in piles as you shed them, layer by layer.

It felt strange to be in Ghost's house. Even more, it felt strange to be naked in Ghost's house. Quickly you unfold the clothes he'd provided, and then proceed to gawk.

Ghost hadn't been kidding. They did not fit. Just the t-shirt alone engulfed you. Somehow you managed to secure the sweatpants around your waist after finagling the drawstrings into a belt. Your legs swam in the fabric pooled around your feet. Haphazardly you roll them into cuffs.

Ghost, again, wasn't kidding. Shucked of your wet clothes, blanketed by his, you were already feeling better. The world felt a little less shattered around you. You hang your old clothes over the shower rod in the hope’s they’d be dry by morning.

When you leave the bathroom and saunter back to his kitchen, you find him there leaning against the table in wait. For a brief moment, he doesn't see you enter. And for that brief moment, your eyes plant on the sliver of skin visible between the gap of where his t-shirt ended, and his mask began. His gaze flicks over to yours and you meet it.

"Better?" He asks.

"A lot better." You say with a relieved sigh. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes downcast, thinking the night over. "Goodbye hangout spot."

"Hangout spot? Are we fifteen?" Ghost scoffs, laughing lowly under his breath. He motions for you to follow and you're led into a modest bedroom.

"Come on, it was like a hangout spot. And now it's gone." Your voice falls at the end, and doesn't go unnoticed by his listening ears. He watches you through the corners of his eyes. "Was one of my favorites, too."

"We'll find another." He offers.

You shrug. "It won't be the same."

Ghost sighs and wanders to the side of the bed, and only then do you notice the blankets laid out on the floor.

"We'll make it the same. Come on, you need some sleep."

When he pulls the blanket from the mattress back in invitation, you frown. Even more so when he begins to kneel on the blankets mounted on the floor.

"I'm not sleeping in your bed. I'll take the floor." You deadpan. He shakes his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Man, come on. Let me."

"Not a chance." He settles over the blankets, laying flat on his back. You crawl onto the bed to peek over the edge down at him.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

Those blues peer up at you from the floor. They roll, his voice a grunt. "Shut it. When's the last time you got real sleep?"

You scoff. "You're gonna' talk to me about getting real sleep? I could ask you the same question."

Ghost laughs deep in his chest. A sound you rarely get the joy of hearing. But then he rolls over, back facing you, and you feel him shut the argument down in one fell swoop. Your combative perspective dies somewhere in the back of your brain, and suddenly your new focus is just how plush Ghost's bed is. It sucks you in, it feels. Practically reaches up with and tugs you down against it. You sprawl out, your muscles crying out in relief.

The scent of him surrounding you is intoxicating. As is the deep, soft breaths you hear from the floor. Your head suddenly becomes too heavy to lift.

"You know what," You mumble with half-lidded eyes. "I think I am gonna' take the bed."

Whether Ghost answers or not, you're unsure, asleep nearly the same second the last syllable left your lips. A heavy dream cloaks the forefront of your mind.

And it paints such awful pictures.

Fireworks of light, clapping explosions, and the distant howls of your friend's voices echo cry into the back of your mind. All you know is that you're running, your legs struggling to heave the weight of you. Darkness nips at your heels as you flee. Hands grab at you from all angles, long twisting fingers rooted to bony knuckles.

The crashing waves of the emptiness pass you with ease and you're swallowed into nothingness. Your feet splash through it like a pitch-black puddle. Though warped, you catch your own reflection in the murky depths. You kneel down and reach out, touch at the wet surface. It rippled like water but sat on your finger thick, like honey.

It reeked of tar.

And before you knew it, staring at the black ooze, a hand crashes through the surface and wraps it's spindly fingers around your arm. It yanks, rips you down. You struggle to your feet with an outcry, find your footing despite the hands hold, just to see more hand breaching. Your feet sink inches into the murk. The hands claw at your ankles, and then your legs. The ground drinks you down. Your thighs, then your waist.

"Fucking hell." A voice garbles, echoing and distant. The choir of outcries beat against your eardrums.

Your eyes search, and they land on something emerging from the darkness. A creature shadowed in the darkness blossomed, its dripping teeth and glowing eyes drawing closer. The air pulls from your lungs and you choke on nothing.

The creature claps its talons over your shoulders, its grip puncturing bullet-sized holes into your flesh. You rip and tear fruitlessly. It taunts you, laughs at you. Gargles your name out fuzzy and far away. You're suffocating.

"Look at me!" It chants, shaking you ragged. "Open your eyes!"

Your mind statics and blurs around the edges. Your eyes clench shut, and then tear back open, and it's like being pulled out of the water. You suck in your first full breath. A hand presses firm to your cheek and you react with vitriol, ripping away with its touch. Fighting harder when it persists, another hand planting on your shoulder to keep you still. The image of the monster lights up in your mind, with its piercing stare and snapping jaws.

"It's me!" A voice rings in your ears from a foot away. Right there, real. It reaches into your mind and drags you out with a thrashing heart and heaving chest.

The creature melts into the familiar shape of Ghost before your eyes, and that's when you realize it's silent. Nothing but the sound of both of your heavy breaths. The color floods back.

"It's me." He says again, softer this time, edged with gruffness. He touches at your arm, the other still set firm on your other shoulder. You peer up with him through tears.

"I couldn't breathe." Is all you manage to sputter.

For a long moment, he studies you. Then he drags his touch down the length of your arm, to your shaking wrists. He pulls at your hands and gently drags you to sit before he settles beside you. He sinks the mattress down and you don't stop yourself from tilting and resting on him, too tired to fight anything anymore. Besides, you needed it. Needed to feel his presence, the sense of safety his energy alone provided.

When he doesn't immediately shift away, you wonder if he knows it too. Or, maybe he feels pity. Feels bad and isn't really sure what to do other than just... be there. Which doesn't necessarily not work. When your body goes lax against him, you can hear the deep, long breath that escapes him.

Relief.

Relief because finally you seem like you’re all together.

"I'm sorry for making you take care of me." You croak. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing."

"Enough of that. Relax." Ghost's voice is so quiet. You don't think you'd ever heard him bring his voice so low, barely even audible. You wonder if you'd scared him, somehow. Or perhaps he felt if he spoke too harsh, too loud, you’d be rocketed back into your spiraling.

The image of that monster you'd gone face to face with seeps into your thoughts. It sends a chill over the plains of your skin, reminds you how vulnerable to feel without a blanket on. As if he reads your mind, Ghost drags it up from the foot of the bed and drapes it over you. Even goes so far as to slightly tuck the edges haphazardly.

When you realize he goes without, you frown.

"Here," You say, lifting the side of the blanket and tossing it over his legs. Any minute now, you expect him to roll his eyes and return to his place back on the floor.

But, instead, he gets comfortable. He shifts, sinks into the bed just a little more. Breathes just a little deeper. Warmth blooms in your chest and rides straight up to your cheeks, masked by the darkness. You can't however, hide mask the smile that takes over your lips when his shoulders go slack. His head tips to rest on yours.

The world stops turning for a moment. Lost in his breathing, his heartbeat slowing in your ears. Somehow, you think deep in your mind, that perhaps this had made it all worth it. His hands rest in his lap, just as yours do.

Barely, just barely, you touch the back of your knuckles to his own and let your eyes fall shut. His skin vibrates against yours.

You aren't sure the exact moment you doze off into a quiet slumber, but you do, fit with heavy eyelashes and mirrored breaths.

i’m sweet for you

dilf!jake sully x fem na’vi reader

!! smut - minors dni; daddy kink; breeding kink (jake’s specifically teehee); slight cervix penetration; creampie and squirting; navi and english pet names <33// 892 words

: this is nasty i knowww but is it a need? yes. desperately even; gnashing my teeth so hard; wrote this in godspeed so hopefully no errors; hope you guys would luv this <33; title is from venice bitch - lana

jake presses his palm on your belly, putting enough pressure like he is trying to feel something. the touch makes you squirm, your walls clamping down around him. a sudden sharp thrust, accompanied by your choked squeal, makes jake’s hips stutter, and he feels winded, his lungs constricting as he savours the plush walls squeezing his cock so deliciously.

“jesus,” he murmurs, the ragged breaths spilling from his lips sound like barely-contained snarls. “y’feel that, sweetheart?”

you whimper, blinking your teary eyes up at him, your face scrunching in confusion and your ears twitching with your every hiccupped gasp. jake chuckles at the dazed look in your eyes, crooning softly when your cunt spasms around his cock again.

“i’m all the way here, baby,” jake says, pressing his hand down to your belly again. “stuffing y’r tiny pussy. want daddy to fill you up, ma’yawntu?”

you tremble at his words, your swollen lips falling for a muffled cry when jake begins to hump at your cunt, shallow thrusts pushing his cock ever so closer to your womb. jake grins, something that is so primal and dangerous, his eyes roving over your flushed body before pinning his eyes at your dazed look. 

“goddamn baby.” he laughs. “you still w’me?”

a garbled moan is all you can reply with, too lost in your pleasure to even think of anything coherent to say – not like jake doesn’t adore you like this: drunk on his cock, squeezing him for all his worth, with your tail unconsciously looped around his thigh.

“so sweetheart? what d’you say?” jake’s hand leaves your belly to hike up along your torso, only stopping when it’s reached your heaving chest. his fingers trail ghosting touches along your sensitive skin, purposeful with his teasing, before he finally cups your breast. “want daddy’s seed in you?”

he noses along your jaw, grazing his lips on your skin. you sob at another shallow thrust, his cockhead hitting so deep in you.

jake lifts his head to ghost his lips over your ears, nipping, before he whispers, “one more kid ain’t too bad, don’t you think so too, baby girl?” 

his words struck you, your flushed skin burning hotter, and you swivel your head to look at him, gaping, feeling so breathless amidst his heated gaze.

“ma’jake,” you sob, softly nodding, emotional and desperate, needing him to fuck you with his cock again. the shallow thrusts were not enough. “please, daddy! breed me, please!”

jake snarls, his ears flicking in tension, his tail whipping behind him, before he’s fucking you hard and rough again. he’s filling you up so deliciously with his cock, each stroke along your walls is taking you apart. your mind is fraying at the edges, the curl of your orgasm racing along your veins.

distantly, you realize you’re screaming jake’s name, broken voice sounding raspier at each muted moan. jake’s responding growl resonates from where his lips are pressed on your neck, his fangs tearing through skin, and his tongue lapping at the beads of blood.

a particularly sharp thrust pushes jake deeper in you – something you didn’t even know was possible. a pop echoes throughout your body, your insides spasming at the rush of euphoric pleasure, so dizzying it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“daddy! i’m gonna-! ma’jake, i’m gonna-!” you scream, sounding so guttural and raw, white spots filling your vision.

“fuck, baby! so fuckin’ tight!” jake pushes his face on the juncture of your neck, kissing your wounded skin. “cum f’r me baby. cum f’r daddy.”

you sob as crashing pleasure overwhelms you, your cunt tightening up around jake’s cock, before a gush of squirt dampens your thighs. jake trembles at the feeling, his growl is so deep you feel it reverberate in your own chest.

“i’m gon’ fill you up, baby. gon’ breed you so good. you’d love that won’t you, ma’yawntu? love daddy’s seed?” jake murmurs, his voice is so quiet that you think he is talking to himself more than he is to you. still, you reply with an eager nod, trying your best to let him know that you would love nothing more.

you are still so drunk off of his cock, savouring your orgasm, when jake stops and buries himself to the hilt with a wet slap. you could not even prepare yourself before his seed is spilling into you, filling you up just as he promised.

your whimper catches his attention and jake pulls his head away from your neck to check on you. you don’t know what he sees, but jake just coos at you, his lips brushing along your wet cheeks before finally slotting them against your swollen ones.

the kiss is languid and gentle, a stark difference from his fucking but not any less overwhelming. you chase his lips when he pulls back and jake chuckles, his eyes crinkling in soft delight.

“ma’muntxate,” he whispers, peppering your cheeks with fleeting kisses. “my beautiful mate, so good to me.”

you hum, nuzzling your face on his, his nose rubbing along yours. “i love you, ma’jake.” 

your english is accented, your tongue still unused to the alien language. but you watch the way jake’s eyes sparkle, dipping into something so tender and heartfelt, and you know you said it right.

“i know, yawne. i love you too.”