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maxtermind · 8 days

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my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol). feedback is appreciated+!! ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart.

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”

“...What’s that?”

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.”

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 7 months

Text

Vacation: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO

Pairing :: OPLA!Sanji x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Semi-Exhibitionist(under the table deal), Light Fingering, Sex

Word Count :: 3,469

Summary :: Sanji is finally reunited with you

A/N :: A more perverted pathetic Sanji because GODDAMN. That is all and I am sorry if this feels a bit rushed- Thank you all for your support!

“Sanji?” You asked quietly, almost afraid that if you spoke louder, you’d be waking up from some sort of hyper-realistic dream.

His stunned expression quickly shifted into a joyous smile. He ran up to you, scooping you up in his arms and twirling the two of you in the air.

“(Y/N)! I missed you so much!" He cried out. "Your beautiful voice! Your perfect smile! The way your nose scrunches up when I say something annoying! I've missed it all!" He put you down but kept his hands on your arms. "Especially the way your boo-"

WHAMP! A wooden staff came slamming down on his head, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Sanji, how many times have Robin and I told you to quit going around harassing women!" A redhead lady showed up behind him, followed by a black-haired one and a green-haired man. She gave you an apologetic smile as the man stepped forward to pick Sanji up. "I'm sorry about him, miss. He's a flirt and can get carried away when he sees a pretty lady sometimes."

You laughed awkwardly, cheeks flaring up due to memories from the past. "Oh trust me, I know how heart-eyed he can get."

The women each raised their brows, surprised by your comment. The man didn't seem to care, instead being preoccupied by holding Sanji back. He was holding him with one arm and covering his mouth with the other, his voice being muffled by his friend. Sanji was clearly upset; he couldn't explain that you weren't a random stranger he decided to hit on.

"Do you know each other?" The dark-haired woman asked.

You nodded, eyes moving past them and over to the blond. "We know each other quite well actually. I guess you could call us special friends."

The man released him. He walked back up to you, muttering under his breath about how the green man smelled.

His mood seemed to pick up once his focus was back on you. He reached a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers grazing past your cheeks. He didn't pull his hand away after resting it on your shoulder. He couldn't say it at the moment with his friends around, but he missed how you felt in his hold.

"How are you, darling?" He asked in his usual charming voice.

You smiled warmly up at him. “Happy to see you’ve made yourself some new friends.”

“They’re my crewmates. Don’t get too scared now, but,” He leaned down close to your ear, “I’m a pirate.”

His hot breath hitting your ear sent a familiar tingle down your spine and your fading blush intensified.

He backed away, quickly introducing you to the three before you, all the while rubbing a small circle into your shoulder with his thumb. Nami, the redhead, was their navigator, Robin, the tallest, was their archeologist, and Zoro, the greenhead, was their first mate. Sanji, naturally, was the crew’s cook. They had ported into town for a quick stay, leaving the day after tomorrow.

“So, do you think I could stay at your place tonight?” The question was so sudden, you almost didn’t know how to answer in front of his friends.

“Oh, erm, I wouldn’t mind it. I’ll need to get a few more ingredients then to make sure I have enough for both of us,” You mumbled, attention finally returning to the vegetables you had come to purchase.

“Sanji, it’s rude to suddenly ask someone if you can stay with them, especially if you didn’t give them a heads-up in advance,” Nami scolded.

“I don’t mind!” You were quick to defend him. “It’s no trouble at all, especially since we have so much to catch up on. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having you three over for dinner as well.”

“Really?” All four of the pirates asked in sync.

Sanji seemed to be a bit annoyed, while the other three were genuinely surprised by your hospitality. You reassured the lot that it was fine, especially since you could easily get all the extra ingredients you needed since you were already in the market. Zoro was the only one to decline the offer and instead offered to break the news to their captain that Sanji wouldn’t be cooking dinner for them tonight, so they'd have to find someplace to grab grub.

On the walk back to your home with Sanji and the other ladies, you started a small conversation with Robin and Nami.

“So, (Y/N), what do you do for work?” Robin asked.

“I work for Greylock Trading, a merchant company.”

“I’ve heard of Greylock Trading when I was a kid,” Nami said. “They used to come by my hometown to buy tangerines.”

You nodded. “That was in the early days. Greylock started with basic produce eventually moving up to luxury goods like fine silks or rare paints.”

“You must get to see a lot of interesting places working for such an impressive merchant.”

“I did.” Your smile fell a bit at Robin’s comment. “Long story short, a few years ago, Greylock fell ill and the captain of his ship retired so he could take care of him. Ever since, we’ve downsized considerably and just work from here.”

You could feel Sanji’s hand squeeze yours. “Is that why you never came back to Baratie?”

“Yes. Greylock asked me to stay and help him restructure the business. He and Captain Tommy are father figures to me, so it was near impossible for me to decline, despite how much it saddened me to stop traveling. Now that everything’s settled with the business though I’ve found myself feeling a bit melancholy as of late.”

Greylock and Captain Tommy had tried to convince you to join a different crew so you could travel once more, but you refused. You didn’t want to leave them behind to join a brand new crew full of strangers. It didn’t feel right to you.

“All she ever talked about when we were together was traveling and all the different places she had been to and all the different places she was excited to see,” Sanji explained to his friends. Quickly, he then whispered to you, “At least, that’s when you weren’t a babbling mess.”

You quickly hit his shoulder, embarrassed that he’d make such a comment in front of others.

His teasing behavior didn’t end there.

When you got back to your place, he helped you in the kitchen while the girls made themselves comfortable in your living room. Your kitchen was small, but one would think it was cramped with how Sanji was acting. Whenever you were trying to grab something from one of the cabinets, he’d come up from behind you conveniently also needing to grab something. His body would push against yours, trapping you against the counter with one hand fondling your breast. A scheme so he could grind against your ass for a moment.

When you were chopping up some lettuce, he came up from behind you and placed his hands on top of yours to help you “properly” chop the lettuce. He would lower his head down to your neck, claiming it was easier for him to see if he rested his head there. A ploy so he could kiss your neck.

It didn’t end in the kitchen.

Once dinner was served, you sat next to Sanji and Robin sat with Nami opposite you two. The three of them started to enthrall you with tales of their adventures on the sea, making you a bit envious of their wayfaring.

You didn’t have much time to feel sorry for yourself though, as midway through dinner, Sanji’s hand fell under the table and began petting up and down your thigh. At first, you decided to act normal and ignore it. You two were at a table in front of his friends, there’s no way he would be dumb-

“Hmph-!” Your body tensed, feeling his hand slide up your skirt and in between your thighs.

You clamped your thighs together hoping to halt him in his tracks. Your head snapped to him, but he remained unfazed, acting as if nothing had happened.

Unfortunately for you, he was able to wriggle his hand just enough to get closer to your panties. He pushed his finger against you, pushing your underwear to the side to stroke your growing wet folds. After that, he stuck one long finger in, pumping slowly with just one finger.

You gulped, biting the inside of your bottom lip, hoping to stay silent. You’d be mortified if Robin and Nami found out what you two were doing right now.

Sanji didn’t do much else after he started fingering you. He continued that slow pumping pace, not doing too much so you could act normal and giving you just enough to be excited for when dinner ended. He only pulled because you started to clean up the table while they were still around.

Eventually, it was time for you to say goodbye to your two guests.

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/N).”

“Same here, Robin. I’m glad you two enjoyed the meal.”

“It was delicious, thank you so much for having us.”

“And if Sanji gives you any trouble, just come and find us. We know how he can get.”

You chuckled, walking the two towards the door. “No worries, Nami. I know how to deal with him too. Have a nice night!”

“Bye!”

Almost the second the door shut and you two were alone, Sanji shoved his tongue in your mouth and wrapped his arms around you. His hands roamed your body, jumping from caressing your thighs to your ass to your breasts. He was so needy.

You struggled to keep up with his pace, but you couldn't break away. He was refusing to let you go. His kiss was so messy and rough, that you were sure your lips would be puffy by the time he pulled away.

His hand that was fondling your breast pulled away, hurriedly working on removing your blouse, something he had to stop the kiss for. Your head was dizzy with how he had rushed you, you almost didn't pick up on how eager he was to see your bare chest. His eyes lit up once your bra was removed.

"God, I've missed your boobs."

He reached down past your skirt to grab onto the back of your thighs and they hooked around him instinctually. He carried you over to the table you two had just been having dinner at and placed you down. His face fell straight into your chest, kissing and nipping your flesh. His hands latched onto your nipples to start pinching and rolling the buds in his fingers.

His crotch was directly against yours, allowing you to feel his erection growing. You started to move your hips against his, remembering the tingling pleasure he always gave you. He was eager as well, as he started to grind into you.

"Sanji," You moaned softly, hand reaching out to tug his hair.

He groaned at the action, and the speed of his hips picked up creating more friction. He removed a hand from your breast, reaching around to squeeze your ass and pull your body closer to his.

You were about to beg him to start fucking you, needing more than this to push you to cum, until you noticed the expression on his face. His eyes were tightly shut and he was biting his bottom lip. He was desperate to cum, now.

You had never seen him so worked up before, it turned you on, even more, to know he was being like this for you. If there wasn't a wet patch on his pants before due to your soaked panties, there certainly was one now.

"Fuuuck," He said, a mix between a whine and a moan.

So entranced by the sight before you, you decided to let him finish like this, already coming up with a plan for the aftermath. A bit of revenge for how he acted during the meal if you will.

His speed was getting faster, and his hold on your ass and tit tighter. "I just- I need-" He was struggling with his words, clearly lost in his head.

"Are you close to cumming for me, Sanji?" You asked in a teasing tone.

He completely froze, his face turning red with embarrassment for the first time since you met him all those years ago.

"(Y-Y/N)- I didn't mean to-" He struggled, stammering out a sentence, but his words were silenced when you slid your hands down his pants and cupped his length in your hand.

You could feel him throbbing in your palm, he was so close that he was already twitching in your hand. "It's okay, Sanji. I'll let you finish, but then we play my way. Okay?"

You squeezed your hand around his dick at the end, earning a small shaky breath. After he quickly agreed, you pulled your hand out of his pants, allowing him to continue grinding on you.

You pushed your breasts together for him, to which he happily planted his face in between.

He bit down roughly on your right tit when he finally started to cum in his pants, his hips jerking against your wet clothed cunt. When his peak ended, he raised his head from your breasts, trying to steady his breathing.

You hopped off of the table, grabbed his hand, and led him to your bedroom. "You know, I always remember you making fun of me for being so needy all the time. I guess the tables have turned now, huh?"

"It's… it's been a while okay?"

"I can tell," You said while pushing him down on your bed.

You pulled down your underwear before lifting your skirt to reveal your exposed wet pussy before moving to straddle him. You worked on unclothing him, carefully undoing each button on his shirt while rolling your crotch against his. In no time, you could feel him hardening up again.

Once you got his shirt off, leaving on his tie, you repositioned yourself to sit right below the hem of his pants. You zipped his pants open and pulled them down, along with his underwear, springing free his messy cock. It was smeared in sperm from before, already lubed up when you wrapped a hand around it.

You scooted closer so you were able to bring his tip to your entrance. You moved it up and down your slick folds, humming at the feeling, already ready to be filled up. But you had to be strong, remembering how you wanted to get payback.

He jerked his hips in your hands. "Love, I'm begging you. You've already made me wait such a long time."

You put your hands on his chest, raising your hips so your entrance was right above him. "I said I was sorry." You began to move your wet cunt against his length, not allowing the sweet tightness he desired. "Don't you forgive me, Sanji?"

He let out a shaky moan, feeling your slick folds slide up and down his length. His tip was so close to entering each time you went up his dick, only for you to slowly slide back down.

His hands went up to cup your face, thumbs tracing against your cheeks. He pressed a long deep kiss onto you. It was so unlike the kiss from before, with there being a slow passion to it, he was able to distract you.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling him push his cock into you. He pulled away with a devilish smirk, continuing to push until he was all the way in you. You started to whimper, it had been such a long time since anyone filled you up.

"I do, darling. And that's why I'm so happy you're not going to get upset with me for breaking our little agreement." He pulled out a bit before thrusting up into you, earning a moan.

He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you closer to him so your chest was flush against his. He continued to thrust into you. He had quickly developed a pattern, he did a few shallow thrusts, not pulling out very much, before pulling out nearly all the way, leaving only his tip in you, then rammed himself back in only to repeat the process.

Each time he pulled out more, he hit hard, and with each thrust your moaning got louder and louder. His moaning grew in volume as well, as your walls tightened with each deep thrust.

This feeling was getting him close, along with watching you on top of him. Since you were flat against him, he could feel your breasts bouncing up and down on him with the thrusts. His favorite part about this though, was that your face was clear for him to see. Your half-lidded eyes, the small 'o' shape your mouth was in got bigger each time you moaned loudly.

Eventually, your entire body tightened and you began to spasm. Your walls clenched, finally hitting your high. Sanji wasn’t far behind, as seconds after you came you could feel his cock twitching inside of you and hot spurts of cum poured into you.

“I hope you don’t have plans tomorrow,” Sanji breathed out.

“Why?” You asked in between pants.

“Because,” He pulled out of you, beginning to reposition you two, “I don’t plan on stopping until you’re exhausted.”

Your palms fell flat against your bed as you found yourself on all fours now. His hands went down to hold your ass, his now hard again dick ramming into you from behind. He was much rougher this time with his thrusting, and his hold on you was tight so you couldn’t pull away.

At this faster pace of his, it didn’t take long until your arms gave out and your top half fell against the bed. You bounced your ass in the air with him, hoping he’d hit deeper with each thrust. So fixated on cumming again, you didn’t notice how his grip had loosened and that he had slowed down again.

“There’s my good girl,” He moaned. “So desperate to cum around my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered open, feeling a pair of arms wrapped around you along with a leg thrown over yours. Your vision began to clear and you saw a blond sleeping in your bed. The events of the night before began to play in your head, reminding yourself why your body was so sore.

“Hm… I guess you were telling the truth when you said I’d pass out.”

“Of course I was. I’d never lie to you, love,” His eyes opened.

You narrowed your eyes. “How long have you been up?”

He shrugged. “A while.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I made you do a lot last night. Plus, I enjoyed how peaceful you looked when you were asleep. I was trying to save it in my memory in case…” His voice trailed off, afraid to finish his sentence.

“In case what?”

“In case… you said no to being a pirate with me.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He sat up, and you followed. “I want you to join the Straw Hat Pirates. It’s a really friendly crew, aside from Zoro. Everyone’s nice, aside from Zoro. You’ve already met three of them, and got along great with them, aside from Zoro, but he’s just a grump. And I’m sure Luffy would be fine with it.”

“Who’s Luffy again?”

“He’s the captain. He’s a good kid, and he could use a negotiator.”

You fell silent, contemplating his offer for a bit longer than he’d like.

“Alright, I’ll join.”

Sanji continued to plead with you to join, having not fully processed your answer. “Please, (Y/N). You’ll get to travel again, and sure, we’ll have to deal with occasional bad- Excuse me?”

“I said, I’ll join. I’ve already helped out Greylock and there’s not much left for me here anyway. What I want is to travel on the sea again, going to new distant lands with you.”

“(Y/N)...”

You grabbed his hand, smiling happily up at him, knowing you’d be starting a brand new chapter in your life. Unlike all the other ship crews that had offered you a spot amongst them, you didn’t feel like you would fit in. Joining The Straw Hats felt right somehow, especially since someone you were close with was already a part of the crew.

The sweet moment you two shared ended shortly, as in your peripheral line of sight, you saw a tent rising in the sheets.

“Really?” You asked, throwing the blanket up to expose his erection.

“You’re just so cute when you’re sincere!”

Tags:

@misfits1a, @nuhteyam, @violet-19999, @idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames, @chaixsherlock, @notazul, @simpforseungkwan, @shadowwolf1864, @quixscentsposts

#sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji smut #opla!sanji fanfic #sanji smut #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji fanfic #one piece sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji smut #vinsmoke sanjie x reader #vinsmoke sanji fanfic

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donatellawritings · 13 days

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thoughts on best friends dad!rafe!

introducing bfd!rafe & dolly!reader

there was pathetically sick part of rafe that got off on knowing that he still had it — especially with such a young girl like you who was an absolute knockout, absolutely eager and willing to bend to his every whim. he had watched you bloom into the young woman you were today, but the moment you turned eighteen, you became a bit more forward with your intentions. from wearing skimpy bikinis whenever you joined his sweet son on family trips, to the thin satin dresses that tented with your hard nipples on thursday dinners — you made sure to always look your best for mr. cameron.

but what made rafe melt was the way you were so immersed in him, you completely dismissed how his son was head over heels in love with you — and you can call rafe a sick man, but he always craved being the center of attention, no matter the costs. his little boy would just have to move on, not that he ever stood a chance against his overpowering and domineering father.

so, when rafe’s son asked if you could spend the summer at tannyhill, rafe was eager to oblige, masking his reasoning with ‘wanting his next of kin to be happy at home’, despite his true intentions of having you surrender all of yourself to him, now running rampant is his tainted and somewhat deranged mind.

on the first night of your extended stay, you found yourself sat beside your best friend’s father, your tooth-achingly sweet and doting best friend seated directly across from you, completely oblivious to the way his father stared at you with that same sense of longing and desire.

you liked mr. cameron — he was always so sweet to you, he bought you the finest birthday presents, complimented your girly, but borderline inappropriate outfits, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed at any given time.

and maybe, just maybe there was a part of you that knew he felt the same way about you too.

carelessly leaning over the dining table, you fought back a knowing smirk as your swollen tits bulged against the hem of your sleeveless romper, the ribbed fabric clinging to your warm frame as you reached for a piece of bread, “thank you for having me, mr. cameron,” you sang, your sweet voice all light and airy as you glanced at the older man, your heart jumping as you caught his eyes stuck on the fat of your plush ass cheeks that managed to swallow the romper.

masking his faux pas with a forced clearing of his throat, mr. cameron licks over his lips with a smile, “well — ahem, f’course, my wife and i really appreciate how good of a friend you’ve been to our boy, isn’t that right, honey?”

rafe knew exactly what he was doing, his trained blue eyes carefully taking in the way your plump smile faltered into a brief frown and how the sparkle in your eyes dimmed. your bubble of security had been popped in that very moment as you tugged on the top hem of your romper, your nailed fingers lightly grazing over the baby pink bow that had been sewn between the valley of your breasts.

your oh so pretty and fake smile only intensified as mrs. cameron sauntered into the dining room. you absolutely hated how your shared likeness towards mr. cameron had soured your perception of the clueless woman who still viewed you to be the daughter she always wanted.

placing a manicured hand atop of mr. cameron’s shoulder, you watch as the woman leans down to capture rafe’s lips in a quick kiss, “mhm. you know that we love having you over, sweetie. you keep us on our toes, dolly” she laughs, gently nudging the apple of your cheek as she makes her way to her seat, directly across from mr. cameron.

dolly — the dear nickname that you’d been given by mr. cameron, you’d always been so wet behind the ears, dainty, and entirely too vulnerable. but, it didn’t feel right coming from her.

answering with a short nod, you are a bit too eager to change the topic of discussion, a silent huff of stress leaving your faded plum stained lips as your best friend furrows his brows at your standoffish behavior, “y’okay?” he mouths, softly nudging your shin with the tip of his converse.

“i’m okay,” you mouth back, a soft smile on your pillowy lips as you steal a quick glance at mr. cameron who catches your sneaky gaze, sending you a quick wink as he takes a sip from his glass of chilled red wine.

licking over your dry lips, you swallow thickly, popping a warm and fluffy piece of bread into your needy mouth as mr. cameron’s long and slender leg brushes against yours. fighting back a smile, you remain silent as mrs. cameron enlightens the table about her new endeavors at cameron development, your eyes glazed over as you quietly hook your leg over his firm thigh.

honing your focus into chewing the piece of bread in your mouth, you watch from the corner of your bambi eyes as rafe inconspicuously slides a large hand over the smooth skin of your waxed leg.

now lost in the sensation of mr. cameron’s hand gently kneading soothing circles around your ankle, your eyes widen as rafe’s voice cuts into your dazed state, “y’seem pretty sleepy over there, dolly — everything a’ight?” he questions knowingly, his buzzed head tilted to the side as his pink lips part in anticipation of your next words.

feverishly nodding, you send rafe a forced courteous smile, “yes, mr. cameron — just sleepy,” you answer politely.

returning his attention to his son and wife, rafe keeps a tight hold on your small ankle, the cold bite of his wedding band digging into your warmed and bronze skin. you always loved to prance around tannyhill barefoot, you’re pretty pink toes on full display, ever since your younger days.

and rafe was painfully reminded of that, a feigned smile of interest on his handsomely structured face as he gave your cute little toes a gentle squeeze, every now and again.

all while his poor son and unsuspecting wife sat and ate their overly priced steak dinner.

#asks #anon #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #bfd!rafe #dolly!reader #rafe x reader

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konigsblog · 8 days

Text

cw: rape/non-con, intoxication, brief mention of misogyny. dead dove: do not eat. 🔞

i could see simon riley being a canonical rapist. his crave for control and power, mixed with him being in the military, a toxic bastard with sickening desires. he yearns for some amount of authority over a woman, to fuel his misogynistic beliefs that you should obey him.

perhaps it's cruel and violent, but it's normalised to simon, he's desensitised to it. his views are pretty old-fashioned, completely changing the entirety of his personality the second you're officially married, no longer hiding behind the façade of a sweet man. you're his toy for his frustration and aggression, coming home to take it out on you after a rough deployment.

his addiction to the velvety, smooth texture of your tight cunt only intensifies with each session together. don't squirm, love. his voice is calm and quiet, while you're mortified at the sight of your glistening cunt being used, disgusted that your body reacts to his depravity.

or instead of being in a relationship with him, he takes up a job as a bartender, to use a drunken woman's body after hours, before closing for the night. perhaps he'll dump you in the alleyway beside the bar, knocked out unconscious and reeking of alcohol after your ‘friends’ abandoned you, or maybe he'll take you home with him, keeping you gagged and chained by his side, his own personal whore.

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hannieehaee · 6 months

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18+ / mdi

content: once again, chan is a fucking loser, smut, f reader, dry humping, handjob, a lot of boob worship (?), spit kink (????) but not rlly, etc. this is a continuation to this, but can also be read as a standalone!

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

wc: 1258

masterlist

loser!chan, who feels like the luckiest bastard alive thanks to his chemistry teacher who decided to pair him up with his years-long crush.

ever since he started college, he thought that maybe he'd finally get rid of the loser nerd persona that had been assigned to him ever since middle school, when he started wearing thick-rimmed glasses to school and joined the anime club.

safe to say, that did not happen. due to his shy demeanor and lack of confidence, he remained an outcast in all situations possible, feeling as if he could never simply go up to someone and strike up a conversation. specially not with you, the pretty girl he met during orientation two years ago. someone who he had so badly wanted to get to know after catching your eyes one day during your intro bio course freshman year.

unexpectedly, now he found himself in your bed, your hands down his pants and your tongue lightly licking into his mouth as he moaned due to the friction. all thanks to his teacher's fateful decision to pair you up. ever since the first time you had invited him to your dorm for your group project (the first time he had ever felt the touch of a woman), you had found every opportunity possible to steal him away again under the vice of 'channie, we need to work on our assignment!'

your meetings tended to go pretty much the same every time. you'd both sit on your bed, pretending you were there for academic purposes as you set down your books and laptops in front of you while having much sinister thoughts in your heads. chan hadnt wanted to assume you'd always invited him over for anything other than studying, which is why he never made a move first, always allowing you to approach him and take him in whichever way you wanted.

that is how he was once again moaning into your mouth, trying to catch your tongue in his as you pulled your hands out of his pants, wanting to unzip them all the way through. so far, the most you and chan had done had been patting under your clothes and making out for a few hours, but it seemed like you wanted to go further this time.

chan felt like his heart was about to pop out of his chest, lifting his hips in order to help you take off his pants. what he hadnt expected, though, was for you to unglue yourself from him to throw your dress over your head before finally sitting on his lap. he had never felt the heat of someone else's body atop his like this before. he felt like he was burning.

"channie ..." you began. "why wont you touch me? you like how i touch you, dont you? dont you wanna do the same?", you pouted as you led his hands to your torso.

he gulped, breathing heavier than ever. "i- yes. wanna- please, show me. i-i dont know how, i-..." was his reply. he lowered his head, feeling embarrassed at being the ripe age of 23 having never felt the touch of a woman in this way.

"i know, channie. but it's okay. i'll show you."

with that, you let go of his hands momentarily to throw off your bra, quickly grabbing onto his hands again and placing them on your tits, "touch them channie," you breathed out, "touch them and rub them. it'll feel so good, i promise."

chan was frozen in place, eyes glued to your chest. he had never felt himself harder in his life. he'd obviously seen breasts before. both in class and through a screen (and he had maybe pictured yours sometimes before going to sleep..), but he had never felt the softness of them in his hands, nor the pebbles that hardened against his touch.

he followed your instructions, moaning at the way you threw your head back due to his fondling of them. your reaction made him intensify his touches. his actions had caused you to start lightly canting your panty-covered hips against his strained boxers, making him feel even more lightheaded. he decided to take initiative for once and lowered his head towards your chest, groaning as his tongue made contact with your nipple.

you let out a loud whine at the sudden contact, immediately pushing his head closer to your chest and grinding against him with more force now. "f-fuck channie. yes, please keep doing that. shit," your moaning kept driving chan insane, thinking about how desperate you must've been for him to have such reactions to his inexperienced touches.

you continued like this for a while. chan licking and sucking at your nipples while you whined and ground your hips against his. eventually this proved to not be enough for you, causing you to drag his face away from your chest and push him to lay fully on the bed, pinning his hands over his head.

"channie .. can i make you feel good? both of us. can i make us feel good?", you shallowed, delirious at the thought of finally meeting your end while with chan. the previous times you had met you had dedicated your time only to making him cum, wanting to warm him up for you before prioritizing your own pleasure.

"p-please. fuck. you dont have to ask. you can do whatever you want, just- a-argh fuck ..." his speech left him as you interrupted him with harsh grinding of your hips, the angle allowing his length to drag against the entirety of your pussy.

he hadnt known how warm and wet it would feel, having only ever felt his hand (well, now yours too) for the past few years. despite having his boxers and the light layer of your panties in the way, chan felt the heartbeat of your pussy pulse against his swollen dick, making all thought leave his head as he planted his feet on the bed and began to carelessly grind upwards against you, no rhythm to his movements but focused solely on chasing pleasure.

you humped against each other like animals, breathing into each other's mouths until you began to crave his taste, licking into his tongue as he threw his head back at the act. you lifted your head a bit, encouraging him to do the same and then directed him to stick out his tongue for you, which he did. you then began to lick and suck on his tongue, making him shake at the nastiness of it all.

he grabbed onto your hips, madly digging them against his with all the strength he could muster. you felt yourself get even wetter at the sheer force your cute innocent loser boy was using due to the pleasure clouding his mind, knowing that you'd cum any second now.

"'m gonna. fuck. gonna cum, channie. cum with me. please," you begged in a high whine.

chan had no willpower to respond and instead did his best to nod, once more throwing his head back as he came, you following soon after.

the aftermath consisted of a very exhausted chan being unable to move or process what had happened. you laid on top of him for a few minutes as you both caught your breaths. you were the first to speak up, lifting yourself off of him a bit, "sorry, i think i might've gotten over-excited," you chuckled, "id been thinking of that for a while. was that too much?"

he smiled moonily as he looked at the ceiling. "god, i hope we never finish our project."

n/a: not proofread aaahhhh sorry

#svt #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #seventeen oneshot #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #dino x reader #dino smut #chan smut #lee chan smut #lee chan x reader

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esouliie · 3 months

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– TEARS ON THE GRAND PIANO

– pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader (MINI SERIES)

– synopsis: moving on from the only person you’ve ever loved is proving to be hard… so hard that hiring an escort seems to be the only way forward.

– warnings: poor dialogue lmao but my excuse is that it was written a while ago, offensive language, word count: 3K

– Prologue | Chapter 1

13TH NOVEMBER 2022

You were pretty sure your face was melting off with the way your cheeks burned against your hands. Your jaw ached tremendously from clenching, each muscle protesting against the pressure of the emotions welling up inside you.

The room felt like a pressure cooker, and the silence was the ever-tightening lid that threatened to explode at any moment.

The weight of awaiting unspoken words hung in the air, creating a palpable discomfort that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. Seconds stretched into minutes, each passing moment intensifying the unease.

Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this standoff… of sorts.

Joining the Avengers four years ago wasn't anything you would’ve expected for yourself. Raised as a normal teenage girl in a quiet suburban household, with a normal life planned ahead of you, you never imagined that your destiny would lead you to the extraordinary world of superheroes.

Tony Stark, the genius behind the Iron Man suit, approached you with an offer that would change your life forever. He explained that the world needed new heroes, and your unique abilities were the missing piece they had been searching for. After some hesitation and contemplation, you decided to accept the invitation to join the team.

And here you are - now a grown woman - sitting across from the same Tony Stark. His jaw was slack, eyes wide to an almost inhuman degree. For a man who had faced gods, aliens, and powerful foes, the revelation seemed to have caught even the Iron Man off guard.

To put it shortly, he was stunned. Such an uncharacteristic reaction from the philanthropist.

“What did you just say?” He finally managed to answer.

This was supposed to be easy; simple enough to not stress you even more, but you should've known that nothing comes easy with this man.

“I think you heard me, Tony.”

“Yeah, but I never thought I’d hear that… come out of your mouth.” He slaps his hand against the chair excitedly. He was both amused and bewildered by the unexpected turn of events.

“I mean, everyone thought you were a virgin, with the lack of relationships over the years, but I guess not, huh?”

His laughter irritated you no doubt.

Despite being twenty-three years old, your teammates, in their misguided assumptions, were certain you were a virgin. It was a label that stuck, fuelled by your shyness about your personal life. No one ever dared to inquire about your relationship status, but subtle concerns were shared between them, creating an unspoken curiosity.

In reality, your heart harboured a secret love for someone you couldn't have – a person who existed in the realms of impossibility. It was a love that had silently grown over the years, nurtured in the shadows of silent words and unfulfilled desires.

“So, you want me to set you up with an escort?” He asks, humour still evident in his voice.

You nod, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation washing over you. Your eyes briefly met his before retreating to your fidgeting hands, the room still echoing with his laughter.

“That’s fine. But first, I need you to answer some questions.” Tony continues, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

Confusion creeps across your face as you tilt your head, thrown off course by his unexpected shift in seriousness.

“First of all, why?” He inquires, leaning back in his chair and studying your reaction.

You hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much you should reveal. "It's complicated. There was someone… but the feelings weren’t mutual, and it’s time to move on. I thought this might be a way to help me do that."

Tony raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Feelings, huh? Well, I'm all ears. Spill the beans. Who's the lucky guy?"

You sigh again, knowing that this part might complicate things. “It’s not something … I just don’t think-,” You don’t want to tell him, it feels all too frightening, “I can’t say.”

He hums lowly, observing your obviously nervous state.

“Okay. What’s your preference?”

Your confusion grows.

He sighs, “Male or female?”

He asks so simply whereas you’re caught off guard.

Your ears burn in embarrassment as the implication dawns on you. You knew this would have to be spoken about at some point, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

“Uh, I t-think, female.”

Tony can't help but wear a sly grin. “So not a virgin and not into dudes. No wonder you shot Sam down.”

The mention of Sam makes you cringe, recalling your first encounter with the man who couldn’t take a hint that you were definitely not interested.

You attempt to regain your composure before warning Tony to be serious, but he interrupts your process, seemingly already moved on from your revelation.

“Anyways, what else?”

Again, you’re stumbling over how to answer but he saves you this time, deciding to lighten up on the teasing.

“I’m talking physically. What would you want her to look like? Tall, short, blonde, brunette, redhead?” His hands move drastically as if sculpting an imaginary figure in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was serious. "Does it matter?"

“Well, yeah, escorts are usually pricey, especially the ones I use to hire so… you might as well fuck someone you’re actually attracted to.”

He was right. It would cost a fortune for a high-end escort. Given your public image and the constant scrutiny you faced, you realise that anyone you brought into your private space would need to be discreet and accustomed to the world of celebrities. There would be NDAs to sign, and security measures to consider, and the whole process seemed more complex than you had initially thought.

“Assuming you want an escort for that?”

His words interrupt your thinking. He had a knack for understanding things without needing them explicitly stated. It was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that he guessed your intention to hire an escort without you saying it out loud was both impressive and mildly embarrassing.

Your blush deepens.

“I’d prefer her to be taller than me, brunette, green eyes.”

His grin slips slightly, realisation sinking in. Your preference seemed to match the appearance of a certain witch.

“Simple enough.”

“And also, old- actually, she can be my age, but I’d prefer an older woman.” You add, unknowingly unravelling another layer of mystery to your request.

Tony hums.

“Preferably not American, maybe like European, or…”

It couldn’t get any better for the man. The quick panic in your eyes, let alone the twitch in your lip, helped finalise his theory.

But ever the optimistic, there’s no way he’d caught that slip.

There are a lot of tall, brunette Europeans in America.

Surely.

He rests his head in his hand, feigning false nonchalance, “Sounds familiar.”

Oh.

Wanda Maximoff arrived in America with a heavy heart and a troubled past. The scars of Sokovia and the loss of her brother, Pietro, weighed on her soul, but she was determined to forge a new life. She was haunted by the memories of experimentation and the pain that had been inflicted upon her throughout her life. The scars, both physical and emotional, served as a constant reminder of the darkness she had endured. Yet, as she stepped onto American soil, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Hope for a new life.

Almost every day, she participated in training sessions to harness and control her formidable powers. Vision, an android and fellow Avenger, became her mentor and confidant. Together, they worked tirelessly to channel her abilities, turning the chaos into controlled strength.

Her dark eyeliner that used to coat her waterline thinned with each passing day. Her green eyes, now a striking contrast against her porcelain skin, began to reflect not only her pain but also the resilience that lay within. Her long, brunette locks remained a constant, gracefully cascading down her back.

The Sokovian Accords had torn her away from your life, but Steve Rogers, the man with an unyielding sense of justice, had set her free. She had been detained, left to rot in chains and a power-disabling device. But now, she lived in the shadows, on the run from those who sought to control her immense power.

The next time you saw her was on the battlefield in Wakanda. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the Wakandan landscape, and you found yourself standing amidst the chaos of the battlefield. The air was charged with tension, tangible electricity that mirrored the clash between the forces before you. Amid the chaos, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, moving with purpose and grace.

Wanda. The woman you once knew as a fiery teenager, full of anger and confusion, had transformed into someone entirely new. Her crimson hair, cut to a length that framed her face, caught the fading sunlight as she weaved through the battlefield.

The old Wanda you knew was gone and yet she was still as beautiful. Still the same Wanda you were in love with.

Even so, she was your best friend.

The age difference never seemed to matter; you clicked in a way that transcended space and time. To you, her friendship was everything. And yet, as life unfolded, so did the unexpected twist of emotions that left you utterly devoted to her.

But your love was unrequited. She fell for Vision. The robot born from the mind stone, the same stone that granted Wanda her powers. They clicked instantly.

Unrequited love can be a heavy burden, and you carried it silently, painfully. From a distance, you observed the deep connection between Wanda and Vision strum stronger. Your heart ached, knowing that you never stood a chance against the android who had become the love of her life.

Her space and time.

And then came Westview. It hit you like a tidal wave of sorrow. Wanda, now known as The Scarlet Witch, had created an alternate reality in an attempt to find solace, to build a life where she could have everything she ever wanted. It was a bittersweet revelation - she had her family, but it was a fragile illusion. Life had decided to take everything good from this woman and that included her husband and twin boys.

Learning about their fates left you shattered. It had been a while since you cried over Wanda. You felt so much for the witch. To you, she deserved the universe but for all the time you knew her, she had only experienced pain.

It was a heartbreaking paradox - the one who could rewrite reality couldn't escape her own suffering.

Tony moves closer to you, breaking you out of your trance.

“You could always look for her.” His hand hovers over yours, unsure.

“No, I couldn’t,” You whisper gently, afraid your voice will betray you, “I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t say anything as he moves back to his original position, battling with himself whether to accept your defeat or encourage you to fight for love.

“Okay. I'll look into it.” He answers shortly.

“Thank you, Tony.”

You really do appreciate his help. He has always been there for you, a fun yet steady presence in your life. He had guided you through tough times in your career and offered a shoulder to cry on when needed. In many ways, he was more than just a friend – he was like an older brother.

“It won’t take long for me to find your woman. So make sure you’re ready for the best night of your life.” He concludes by flicking his tongue grossly between his pointer and middle finger.

But he’ll always be a pig.

15TH DECEMBER 2022

A few weeks later, you found yourself in the penthouse suite of one of Tony’s infamous drunk hotel purchases- The Ritz. He had managed to find an escort that fit your preferences within the same night, but due to conflicting schedules and multiple anxiety attacks, you pushed the date back as much as you could.

Tony helped you understand all the unspoken rules of high-end escort services. For high-risk clients, such as yourself, it’s imperative that a fake name is given.

Monica Dunn.

Tony said you didn’t look like a Monica but you didn’t care. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t an escort’s job to care what name their clients use.

Afterwards, NDAs are usually signed, despite the use of a false identity, just in case the escort discovered who the clients were, and sold the information to the press.

This has happened before. You giggle, remembering the scandalous article about Tony and his rendezvous with an escort that gladly divulged a particular fetish of his.

Five minutes before the agreed meeting time, the front desk rings, informing you that your guest had checked in and was on her way up.

You pace around the front door, nursing on the almost empty glass of wine. Soft music playing through the TV just outside the large conversation pit, a sunken enclave surrounded by plush, velvety sofas and cushions in hues of deep royal blue and silver. The pit was nestled in the centre of the room, creating a cosy and intimate atmosphere.

Perfect for tonight.

The suite’s architecture was utterly beautiful. The walls were adorned with gilded frames housing masterpieces of renowned artists, and the floors were covered in an expanse of soft, ivory carpet that allowed you to sink your feet into its embrace. A grand chandelier, dripping with crystal prisms, hung majestically above the conversation pit, casting a warm and gentle glow over the entire space.

Residing in front of the large glass windows, a grand piano stood proudly, its polished surface reflecting the glimmering chandelier above. Your eyes were drawn to it, a majestic instrument that seemed to beckon you with its silent invitation. Unable to resist its allure, you gracefully make your way towards it. The rich scent of aged wood and varnish envelopes you. Fingers delicately glide over the smooth keys, feeling the cool touch beneath.

You sit upon the plush bench, posture adjusting with the grace of a seasoned pianist. You begin to play, letting your fingers dance effortlessly across the keys. The room fills with an enchanting melody, each note resonating through the space. Lost in the music, you start to hum along, your voice blending seamlessly with the piano's tune.

The same tune you wrote for Wanda all those years ago. It's been a while since you’ve played this song. You’re not even sure why you’re playing it now.

The keys dip. A sombre note rings true. The music swirls into a reflection of your emotions, a silent expression of the feelings you had kept hidden for so long and how they remained unbound.

“That’s beautiful.” A voice broke through the harmony, pulling you out of your musical reverie.

Startled, you turn to find her standing there, in all her glory.

And time ceases to exist.

She stands tall. The red hair that once defined her is now a rich, deep brown, still its usual thickness and tied into a high ponytail that exudes a casual confidence. Bangs frame her sculpted face as a gloss stains her lips. She looks different. You can't help but marvel at the maturity that now graces her features. There's a certain grace to the lines that weren't there before, a subtle testimony to the experiences that have shaped her.

The room becomes a backdrop to the flood of memories rushing through your mind. The air is thick with festering emotions as you look up at her, trying to process the unexpected reunion. It's been years since you last saw her, and the wounds of her departure still linger.

You don’t say anything but she does. She steps closer, eyes flickering over your stilled hands on the instrument.

She laughs, and familiarity strikes as she recalls the tune you were playing. "Is that the song you were writing that night?"

The question hangs in the air, summoning memories of the last time you shared your dreams and melodies, the things that mean most to you. She was your muse and you had bared your soul to her in your music. And now you’re trapped between the resonating notes of the piano and the echoes of your past.

For a moment, you struggle to maintain composure. Indifference projected as a firm shield, a sort of defence against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"It's just a tune." You reply nonchalantly, trying to downplay the significance of the moment.

With that, her gaze intensifies, a shadow of uncertainty rushes across her features.

You can't help but feel a sense of curiosity mixed with a tinge of unease.

All this time that has passed and now she decides to come find you.

You don’t understand why she’s here.

She goes to speak but you interrupt her. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

She’s lost for words, not even fully sure herself.

“I came to see you.”

Wanda sees the strain on your face. She didn’t have to read your mind to know you were in turmoil. Without much thought, she gently cradles your face in her hands, thumbs tracing delicately over your lips, and you lean into the touch, momentarily forgetting everything that’s occurred over the last few years.

This doesn’t last long. The warmth of her touch turns cold, and you stand up abruptly, the piano bench skirting backwards loudly. Anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Don’t touch me.”

You don’t expect it to hurt as you see the pain your words cause her.

“Seriously, Wanda. Why are you here?” You continue, voice thick with led.

Wanda sighs, unwilling to lie to you anymore. “Tony sent me.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #cr:@florietas

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summer-princess · 3 months

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Far From Angry: Hardersson x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: You meet a stranger and her girlfriend at a bar. Things escalate quickly. 🔞Smut. Mdni.🔞 Pairing: Hardersson x Reader Warnings: Threesome, fingering, strap-ons, dirty talk Disclaimer: Obviously fiction. Words: 2806 Notes: Thanks to @acornsquish for pointing out a little error in the previous part! Read Pt. 1 here

“I think she needs your cock, Magda.”

Magda turned her attention to you, raising her sculpted eyebrows.

“Is that true, baby? You need my cock?”

You nodded, eyes pleading as you looked back at her. You could see her tongue as she spoke, the same one that had just nearly brought you over the edge, flicking across her lower lip as she considered the situation, imagining the gorgeous sight that would be you, impaled on her cock, taking everything she wanted to give you.

Pernille, still seated beside you, leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. The older woman’s mouth, tender and dirty at the same time, was enough to distract you while Magda crossed the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a thick beige toy and the corresponding harness. As Pernille devoured your mouth, one of her hands splayed possessively across your chest, her girlfriend stepped into the harness, tightening the cinches.

“Don’t worry, lovely,” cooed Pernille, pulling back only millimeters to whisper against your skin, your hips rocking of their own accord against the air between your legs, your need for more beyond obvious.

“Don’t worry. Magda’s going to fill you up.”

They didn’t notice the way your eyes widened until Magda was back on the bed, Pernille pulling away from your head so that you could see her partner, hand stroking erotically up and down the sizeable strap between her legs, covering it with lube.

“What’s wrong, pretty thing?”

Pernille looked down at you, concern clouding the arousal in her eyes.

“I… It…”

Your eyes were locked on the strap hanging between Magda’s legs, a good inch longer and at least a half of a finger-width thicker than anything you’d taken in the past. You were pretty sure you could take it, but the task still felt more than a little daunting.

Luckily, Pernille was once again able to easily interpret your fragmented thoughts, realization hitting as she followed your gaze.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed soothingly, her thumb still rubbing circles around your swollen clit. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you take it. Would it help if you took my fingers first?”

Scarlet, you nodded, the sweetness saturating her voice somehow making the words even filthier.

“Mmm,” she groaned, exchanging a hungry grin with Magda, one that made you shudder.

“Even after Magda licked you so nicely, you still need more before you’re ready to take her. That’s okay, pretty girl, just keep your legs open for me.”

You whined, the idea of closing your legs all but unimaginable.

Settling herself between your thighs, Pernille took a moment to appreciate the sight before her. If she’d thought you looked pretty back in the bar, that was nothing compared to how you looked now, pussy glistening with your own arousal, legs spread shamelessly wide. Swiping two fingers through your arousal, gathering it on her fingers to ease their entry, Pernille pressed her digits against your tight opening, working her way in past the second knuckle. She grunted softly as your heat welcomed her inside, beginning to move her fingers before you were even able to register fully that she had entered you.

You moaned as the older woman buried her fingers inside your pussy and began to gently fuck you open, the slight stretch intensifying your pleasure. Pernille’s fingers were thin and nimble, able to locate your most sensitive spots with very little effort. The blonde smirked, taking note of your happy little whimpers as her fingers worked in and out, each thrust a little deeper, bringing you closer and closer to being able to take Magda comfortably.

“Taking her fingers so well,” Magda praised you, settling in to lie beside you where Pernille had been moments earlier, strap hanging from her hips, awaiting its chance to be used. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead as you turned your head towards her voice. Her breasts were tantalizingly close to you and, without stopping to think about what you were doing, you closed your lips around the nearest nipple. Sloppily, the peak stubbornly refusing to stay still as she sucked in a sharp breath, you mouthed at Magda’s nipples, your tongue swirling patternless motions across the sensitive flesh. With a groan, she tangled her hand in your hair and used it to pull you closer, keeping your mouth on her chest.

“Fuck,” came Pernille’s voice from between your legs where, in the midst of your distraction, she had managed to slip a third finger inside of you.

“Babe, she’s clenching around my fingers. I think she likes it when you pull her hair.”

These women were going to drive you insane, you thought to yourself as Magda grinned, confirming Pernille’s theory with a sharp tug to your hair, pricks of pain throbbing in your scalp and making you moan into her skin, cunt locking down around Pernille’s fingers as they curled, stroking your sensitive walls, stretching you out.

You had no idea how long you lay there, rocking back against Pernille’s fingers as she worked them deeper and deeper, stretching you out, your lips locked around Magda’s nipples. The rhythm was both arousing and comforting, and you whined at the loss when Pernille, deeming you sufficiently prepared, slid her fingers free.

The loss of Magda’s breasts under your tongue was nearly as distressing, and the older woman made sure to press a comforting kiss to your swollen lips before she switched her position.

“Don’t you worry, I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty girl,” said Magda soothingly, taking Pernille’s place between your legs and rubbing the blunt head of her strap against your soaked pussy. You whined, nodding desperately- after taking Pernille’s fingers, you felt so empty, and all you wanted now was to be filled by them again.

“So eager,” she crooned, holding your hips still as she slid inside, inch by inch.

The toy was still a bit of a tight fit, and you had to suck in a quick breath as it stretched you out, your soaking cunt stretching to take it. Pernille patted you gently, encouragingly, on your side as she watched, enraptured. Her fingers, still wet with your arousal, prodded at your lips. Indulgently, grateful for the distraction, you opened your mouth wide and let the other slip them inside, immediately beginning to work them with your tongue, sucking them as you would a cock while Magda continued to move until she was fully seated inside your cunt.

“Good job,” Magda crooned, rewarding you with a gentle rub to your swollen clit. It had taken every ounce of self control she possessed to not start thrusting as soon as she had worked herself inside, wanting desperately to see how your hole contracted around her cock. Her gentle flicks to your bundle of nerves made you whine around Pernille’s fingers in your mouth, eyelashes fluttering.

She only started thrusting once you wriggled on her cock, wordlessly pleading for her to take you. She rocked her hips gently, and the wrecked noise you made, barely audible in the face of Pernille fucking the remnants of your own arousal into your throat, could have almost made her come on the spot.

“Fuck,” cursed Magda as you clenched around her strap, trying to pull her further in.

“Fuck, she’s still so tight.”

“She can take it,” said Pernille as if you weren’t even there, fingers still fucking the taste of your own pussy down your throat, relishing the little whines that managed to escape around her digits to fill the bedroom.

“You should have felt how her cunt was begging while I was fucking her with my fingers. She has such a slutty little pussy, Mags, she needs you to fuck it. Don’t you, honey?”

You nodded desperately, trying to make your agreement clear despite the fact that Pernille’s fingers were still pressed between your lips. The message must have been received, because the next thing you knew, Magda was dragging her cock carefully back, then rolling her hips and thrusting forward, the toy attached to her hips spearing your needy cunt and wrenching another muffled moan from between your lips.

Her first few thrusts were experimental, but as she locked her eyes on the enticing sight of the beige strap emerging from your cunt, covered with your juices, she couldn’t help herself.

“Good girl,” praised Magda, thrusts speeding up as you whined in pleasure. “Taking it so good, baby.”

“So filthy,” added Pernille, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “Such a dirty girl, letting Magda fill you up with her cock. Our dirty girl.”

The words made you flush even deeper, but they also filled you with a sense of pride- when you had first seen the strap on, you had been apprehensive, but now the toy was slamming in and out of you at a moderate pace, the older woman claiming your pussy for her own.

“Please,” you whimpered as Pernille finally freed her fingers from your throat. “Need it harder.”

Magda seemed all too happy to oblige, if the low moan that came from between her lips was any indication. You hadn’t quite picked up on it yet, but the strap she was using to fuck you included a vibrator, one which was steadily buzzing against her clit, spurring her onwards.

“Oh,” said Pernille. “She needs it harder, Magda. She needs you to fuck her even harder, she’s that desperate.”

Magda chuckled.

“Hmm,” she murmured, thrusts tapering off as she pretended to consider your desperate plea. You locked your eyes on hers, pupils blown wide in desperation. When she resumed her motion, surrendering quickly enough to keep you from getting fussy, you kept your gaze locked on her body.

The older woman looked like a goddess, muscles rippling as she thrust into you. Her blue eyes were dark as she glanced back and forth between you, tits bouncing with the motion of her thrusts, and Pernille, who had started rubbing neat circles on her own swollen clit.

“Turn over.”

The sudden command had barely registered in your mind before she repeated it, combined with another little slap to your thigh. You obeyed, Magda pulling out momentarily so you could go to your hands and knees before thrusting back into your needy pussy, gripping your hips hard enough that you knew there would be a bruise in the morning.

You realized why you were in this new position when you caught sight of Pernille, leaning against the headboard with a pillow behind her back, legs spread.

“Gonna use your mouth on me like a good girl?”

Her accent was stronger as she bit back a moan, the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips adding to her arousal.

In response, you dove in without hesitation, finding her clit and flicking your tongue, lavishing the swollen bud with attention. One of her hands tangled in your hair, tugging at it as she guided you, hips jutting up into your touch. You tried to pay attention to what made her grip tighten, muscles seizing up in pleasure, wanting to make her feel just as good as you felt.

You lost yourself in the pleasurable rhythm, Magda’s thrusts deep inside your cunt and her fingers rubbing your clit as you devoured Pernille’s wetness. You were surrounded by her, her muscular thighs on either side of your face, your breaths restricted by her pussy against your mouth.

Not that you minded.

You could feel yourself drawing closer to your peak as you lapped at Pernille, unaware of anything outside the taste of the older woman’s pussy on your talented tongue and the way her swollen clit twitched against it, the sounds of her moans harmonizing with your own, and with the sound of Magda’s hips slapping against yours as she drove her strap deeper and deeper inside your welcoming cunt.

“You getting close, honey?”

Magda’s tone was sweet even as her thrusts retained their rhythm, deep and long and all-consuming. You couldn’t tell if she was talking to you or Pernille, but your head rocked up and down anyway, your nose bumping against Pernille’s clit as you nodded desperately.

“Yes! Fuck!”

“What do you say?”

The hand holding you between spread legs now jerked you upward, forcing you to look at Pernille as she spoke, harsher than the sugary sweet tone her partner’s words had held before. When you didn’t answer, only moaning as Magda’s thrusts brought you right to the edge of the cliff, her other hand reached out and grabbed your chin, squeezing it tightly.

“What do good girls say,” she asked. “When they need to come?”

“Please,” you whined, licking the taste of Pernille off your lips as you struggled to hold back the tide, threatening to break the levees at any instant. “Please, let me come! I need to come!”

“What do you think, Magda? Should we let her come?”

Magda’s fingers, still rubbing maddening circles over your swollen clit, didn’t pause as she considered. You were nearly insensible on your hands and knees, bundle of nerves twitching beneath her touch as you tried desperately to hold back your orgasm, wanting to wait until you were granted permission.

“Mm, fuck. I think she needs it, baby. Don’t you? I mean, the way this cunt is clamped on my cock I’d be surprised if she lasted another thirty seconds.”

As soon as Pernille released your chin, pausing to consider Magda’s opinion, it gave you free reign to continue licking at her, straining to try and reach the same spots that had made her moan the loudest.

It was the pleasure building in her own core more than anything that made the decision for the lighter blonde as she admired the sight of you, licking at her like a starving woman.

“Okay then. Come for us, like the desperate little thing that you are.”

Permission granted, your body wasted no time before seizing up in orgasm, the powerful waves of pleasure slamming into like a truck. You cried out, some combination of the two women’s names and nonsensical gibberish falling from between your swollen lips.

As you crashed over the edge, the ecstatic moans were lost in Pernille’s pussy as she spasmed, coming apart against your tongue. You lapped desperately at her, trying to gather as much of her flavor on your tongue as you could while Magda’s hips continued to thrust into your needy pussy.

The older woman’s movements were almost involuntary as she rode out her own orgasm, the sight of her girlfriend coming on your tongue combined with the low buzzing of the attached vibrator finally enough to send her over the edge. The continued movement of the strap dragging along your sensitive walls extended your own climax, your brain unable to focus on anything except the pleasure in between your legs, how Pernille’s hips were still moving, covering your face in her slick. The hand not grasping your leg tightly enough to bruise continued drawing erratic circles on your abused clit.

After a blissful eternity, your pleased whimpers turned to whines of discomfort, nerves overstimulated with how hard you’d come. With a chuckle and a pat to your flank that made you wonder, just for a moment, if you were truly that tired, Magda slid her strap out of your sopping pussy, quickly unbuckling her harness and setting both toys aside to be seen to later. Pernille’s soft hands stroked through hair, messy from where she’d tugged on it, and pulled the covers over the two of you.

With Pernille silent and Magda slipping quietly from the room, presumably on a quest for a warm washcloth or a bottle of water, the heavy realization dawned on you- now that you were done, they would probably send you packing.

The thought of walking home in the dark, especially with how warm and cozy you felt in Magda and Pernille’s bed, made you want to cry, but there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

“Hey,” said Pernille, reaching out for you as you started to push the covers off of yourself, swinging one leg over the side of the bed and leaving it hovering an inch above the floor. “Where are you going?”

“H-Home?”

“No, you’re not. Stay here tonight,” said Magda as she re-entered the room, and your fucked-out pussy twitched in interest at the tone, one which demanded acquiescence. Not that you were going to protest. Obediently, gratefully, you flopped back onto the pillows and accepted the water bottle that she offered, taking two long sips.

Magda climbed back into the bed and, their bodies warm on either side of you, you let yourself sink into the pillows. One of the women chuckled quietly, but you didn’t care which or why.

All you cared about was drifting off to sleep, snuggled in between the pair.

#woso #woso x reader #fc bayern frauen x reader #hardersson #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson x pernille harder x reader #pernille harder x reader #magdalena eriksson #pernille harder #woso smut #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine

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sl33paholics · 4 months

Text

Baki's Reaction To Your Ex Trying To Get You Back Headcanons! (and a mini story ig)

Uhm.....it's 6am as I write this and I'm giggling my ass off

To say that Baki would come up and beat the shit out of your ex on the spot right in front of you and others is an understatement.

Baki is more of a quiet observator. Rather than confrontational, Baki might choose to observe your ex from a distance, assessing the encounter with a calm demeanor, possibly seeing it as an opportunity to reaffirm your commitment.

Baki's not an idiot. He can choose to downplay the situation, opting not to give your ex's attempt much attention, focusing instead on maintaining the positive dynamics of your relationship.

Known for his actions more than words, Baki might subtly intensify his efforts to show affection and support, reinforcing Baki's commitment through deeds rather than direct confrontation.

Baki knows how much you love to post yourself on social media. The latest fits, shoes, or with your friends. He's aware that your ex still follows you, even though you unfollowed him many, many months ago. Expect Baki to always hype you up in the comments under your posts on Instagram by spamming hearts and down-bad shit as well, he's most likely getting pinned every time.

Hell, if you're not posting yourself, you're sharing photos of the two of you on dates and random shit. Such as the you two at the gym. Baki's arms always wrapped around your shoulders or his hands gripping your hips. Baki can tell your ex is salty, he stalks his story on an alt account, LOL!

Sometimes, Baki could sense how annoyed and bothered you are whenever you'd see accounts named "shien_giveaway_6997" viewing your story. It's so obvious! Baki values honesty, and he'd engage in an open conversation with you about the situation, discussing any concerns or insecurities. Baki doesn't want a pretty woman like you stressing out over a man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

If you don't want to speak to him about the whole situation, Baki could respond with affectionate gesture, like a surprise date or a thoughtful gift, to reaffirm his commitment and show that he values and appreciates you. He could even use humor and make jokes about your ex's attempts to diffuse the tension.

However, it could only be so long until the man could entertain your ex before he was going to be pushed off the edge.

Baki could opt for a straightforward conversation, expressing his feelings and concerns calmly while speaking to the man via text message or phone. While not confrontational, Baki gives off a subtle warning vibe, a non-verbal cue that communicates the depth of his commitment and suggests that attempting to disrupt the relationship won't be taken lightly.

This could go two ways. 1) Your ex could simply back off and respect your wishes that your current relationship holds. Or 2) your ex could simply be cocky, shouting at him over the phone, insulting him to insert dominance, and other things to Baki as he's just there sitting silently listening to him yap yap yap yap yap yap yap -

It just so happens that Baki and your ex stumbled across each other while in the city.

Guess you can see where this is going.

Seeing Baki's size, your ex laughed and berated him. How can a man his height cuff YOU up? He couldn't believe it. How low were your expectations? He was tall and built. Baki? Sure. He was ripped but SHORT.

"I don't have time for this," Baki simply said, making your ex raise a brow in confusion. "(Y/N) is waiting for me, I can't have my love waiting." Baki walked past the taller figure, his hands in his pockets. He stopped once your ex pulled on his shirt, tugging and pulling Baki back.

"A short boy like you can't do shit!" Your ex would spat. The smell of cigarettes reeked and made Baki want to cough in his face. "Suddenly coming 'round and stealin' MY girl away from me?! I should punch you in your shit-"

It's safe to say that Baki hit this man with a two-piece combo. A slap and a roundhouse kick sent that man straight to sleep on the sidewalk. Baki stared at the unconscious man before sighing. Continuing his journey towards your place.

Hours later, your phone begins to blow up from your friends of the picture of your ex on the sidewalk earlier that day. You confronted Baki only for him to pout and say, "He ruined my shirt :("

You couldn't be mad at him. At least your ex knew not to fuck with you and your boyfriend anymore.

#anime #black writers #female writers #poc writer #black reader #x black reader #fluff #baki #baki smut #baki son of ogre #baki hanma #baki the grappler #headcanon prompts #headcanon #jack hanma #yujiro hanma #kaoru hanayama #crack fic #baki headcanons

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letterstotheflre · 1 year

Note

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ w daryl 🥺🥺

i think this one turned out v v cute 🫶🏻 daryl might be a little ooc but then again i think it resembles the way he is w carol soo i don’t really care lol || set when daryl returns to the communities, before the snow storm episode of s9. ofc, sunshine!reader x grumpy!daryl <3

"absolutely not," daryl snarks resoloutely, sliding the strap of his crossbow over his plain black poncho.

"you're gonna get cold, daryl," you worry, following him around your shared room in alexandria as he packs his bag. he shoves his gun, a pack of bullets, an extra knife and some granola bars you made yourself inside it, closing the flap with a little more force than necessary.

you know you're being a worry wart. you know it's not even remotely cold enough for him to require any more winter accessories, but you can't stop thinking about how cold he must've been all those months alone in his camp.

"i ain't wearing matching pink hat 'n gloves, woman," he scoffs, looping his bag around his shoulders. "'sides, it's not even winter yet. quit yer worryin'."

"it's windy! your ears are gonna get cold!" you exclaim. "and there wasn't any other wool, s'not like i did it on purpose!"

you did do it on purpose. but he doesn't need to know that. (he does).

"pup," he sighs, "a little wind ain't gonna kill me. might even be good for me-- fresh air and all tha'. i don't need those."

you pout a little, open your eyes wide and pinck your eyebrows with your head tilted slightly forward. daryl narrows his gaze and points a finger accusingly, "don't do tha'."

"do what?" you ask innocently, batting your lashes.

he scowls. "y'know what."

you intensify your stare, pouting even more and even pressing your hands together in prayer, hat and gloves between your palms. "please?"

his firm glare relaxes ever so slightly before he seems to think better of it. "puppy dog eyes aren't gonna work this time, sunshine."

"i just want you to be safe and warm, daryl," you say sweetly, completely undettered. "please? for me?"

it's a tense standoff, you in your yellow pijamas and daryl in his usual all black ensemble. you know you've won when his shoulders finally drop and he heaves an exhausted sigh. "fine, gimme them."

you squeal and skip over to him, placing the hat over his head and fixing his long hair so it doesn't cover his eyes. you hand him the gloves. "y'can put these away in your bag just because they might make driving a little difficult. but you put 'em on whenever you're on foot, you hear me?" you say sternly.

daryl rolls his eyes but nods anyway, which makes it good enough for you. then you're back to cooing at him, framing his face with your hands and peppering sweet kisses all over his cheeks and nose. "oh, you look so pretty" this and "i wish i had a camera" that.

"okay, okay," he says, escaping your grabby hands. "i gotta go now. you be good, okay? and make sure dog doesn't bring 'nother walker foot."

"yes, sir!" you salute him, then quickly give him one last kiss on his chapped lips before he opens the basement door. "be safe. love you!"

"love ya," he echoes, closing the door behind him.

—

daryl pretends he can't feel the funny looks the rest of the alexandrian's are giving him as they pass him by.

he's waiting by the gates for carol. sees her rounding the corner and prepares himself for whatever she might say to him.

she freezes in place when she finally notices him, a few feet away from where his standing. when she finally seems to realise that her eyes are not lying to her, she approaches him slowly, doing him the favour of covering her mouth to not make her amusement obvious. it doesn't work very well because he can still hear a couple giggles.

"not a word," he growls, swinging his leg over his bike.

"whatever you say, barbie," she laughs, patting his shoulder.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #love day <3 #gill :]

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bsxcrxts · 3 months

Note

I'm still petitioning for mommy kink spencer whenever you're up to it🚩

the people have spoken!!!

Good Vibrations

a Spencer Reid x fem!reader fic

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. my posts are for those 18+ ONLY! put your age in your bio to interact with me and my works or find yourself blocked!

Content Warnings: reader referred to by gendered terms (sorry, I usually try to avoid this but with mommy kink it's hard), porn mentioned as the way Spencer first heard of this kink but not described in detail at all, small cock Spencer alluded to (sorry I have to live my truth), mommy kink (as more of a title than anything tbh), vibrator usage, sub/dom dynamics, edging him, the vague mention of assplay but it doesn't happen (maybe a sequel idk 👀)

Word count: almost 1k <3 not proofread (sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer's not particularly keen on porn. He hasn't watched any since the two of you started dating, but of course before that, when he was a bit younger and it seemed like no one was ever going to give him the time of day, he'd at the least been curious.

He's a man of science, after all. He knows the value of testing a hypothesis. He likes knowing things.

Most of what he found back then was... not his style. He'd known he was into being bossed around instead of being the one in charge, liked the feeling of a person telling him what to do, and on the surface, most of the videos were rather the opposite. So, out of a certain nosiness, Spencer kept looking, but nothing ever really stuck with him.

Except for one.

He'd never gone looking for it again. He didn't need to. The majority of the contents of the film itself weren't particularly of interest to Spencer. Just what the woman had told the man to call her.

It stayed with him for years, but he could never really quite bring himself to say it, or ask you about it. He wasn't at all dissatisfied with your sex life, quite the opposite, and there was no real reason to bring it up.

So he just... hasn't. Until today. By complete accident.

You're on the bed, straddling his thighs, pinning him down with nothing but your weight. Spencer's head is thrown back and he's writhing beneath you as you press your vibrator wand against his cock, letting it tease him before yanking it away.

Spencer reacts well to being edged, you know. He gets needy and whiny and absolutely desperate, and runs his mouth like a brat before he breaks and says anything to be allowed to cum.

You lightly drag the vibrator across his cock, and his hands scramble to and from the sheets to your thighs, trying to grasp onto anything to ground himself in the sensation.

"D-don't s-stop this time," he pleads, hips trying to buck under your body.

"Aww," you coo, "you like that feeling on your pretty little cock?"

"Mhm!" he gasps. "Keep going, g-god, keep g-going."

Spencer bucks his hips uncontrollably and tries to grab at your hands and pull the toy closer to intensify the feeling.

"Be polite," you tut, maintaining the vibrator, barely pressed against his tip.

"U-uhn! I-I am polite," Spencer sasses you a bit, frustrated as he tries to wiggle closer to the vibrator, chasing the sensation.

The contact vanishes from his cock as you take the toy away for the third time in this session. His cock kicks against his stomach, pre-cum oozing from the flushed head, impending orgasm vanishing.

Beneath you, Spencer huffs out a whine. You lean over him and kiss him, but refuse to touch his dick whatsoever.

"Spencer," you murmur, when he's stopped squirming underneath you. "Are you going to be good?"

Spencer nods, but whispers, "Wanna cum."

"I know, sweetheart. I want you to cum, too. But you have to be good. Can you behave?"

"Yes! Yes," he whines, running his hands sweetly up and down your thighs, stilling beneath you.

"That's it, such a good boy," you praise, and click the vibrator up to a middle intensity as you press it against his cock.

Finally, the relief of the contact in combination with the praise has Spencer's head reeling. He can't think straight, which is saying a lot for someone of his IQ, and he delves into rambling, saying anything that comes to his mind. That's when it just... slips.

"Thank you! T-thank you, mommy!!" he cries out, immediately tensing a little when he realizes what he's said.

You blink a little, not sure what you've heard. He's never called you that before.

"What'd you say?" you ask softly.

Spencer's cheeks turns beet red, and he turns to try to hide his face in the pillows.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want–" he starts.

"Mommy, is that what you said? That's hot, Spencer," you say. "I liked it."

Spencer's whole demeanor changes. He instantly relaxes, becoming re-aware of the vibrations on his cock. "O-oh," he stutters, "then, um, good," and then, shyly, "m-mommy, can we keep going?"

"You want more, sweet boy?" you tease.

"Want whatever mommy gives me," Spencer gasps, sweetly obedient.

His words send shock waves through your stomach to your cunt, and you crank up the intensity of the vibrator, letting it run full strength against his twitching cock, and he jerks under you, unable to stop his reaction.

"Fuck! Mommy!" he cries out.

It takes a lot to get Spencer to cuss. You like the way it sounds when he says it, especially when he's lost in his pleasure below you.

He's fucked out, returning to his babbling as you tease the length of his cock with the vibe. You're reaching down to toy with his hole, running a finger along his taint and tapping there, not pushing in, not without prep, but even the suggestion of it drives him crazier.

"P-please mommy, next t-time, you could, um! Fuck!! Anything you want, mommy, just let me cum. I want you mommy, oh god, just like that!!"

"Anything I want, hm?" you tease.

"Y-yes, mommy!"

"What about you, sweetie? What do you want? You wanna cum?"

"Mommy, I needa cum. Please don't stop," he whines.

"I won't stop this time, Spencer, you were such a good and honest boy for me," you tell him, "go ahead and make a mess for me."

"Mommy!" Spencer moans, and spills all over his stomach and your vibrator.

It's certainly not the last time he calls you by that name.

#sub spencer #becca's bs #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Spencer 🤍

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strrmyclouds · 2 months

Text

› › › aged up!! ballroom!katsuki smut

i nearly vomited while thinking about ballroom!katsuki who fell in love with you the moment he watched you enter the room, your dress sparkling and glittering under the lighting as you moved so beautifully.

he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you, your h/c locks bouncing with each step, a sweet and polite smile on your face as you declined various offers to dance.

the night went on, and you had certainly caught ballroom!katsuki’s attention more than once, you helped a woman clean her dress after spilling a drink on herself, you consoled a man who had been cheated on, and you even raised a toast to the host of the ball.

you seemed like such a sweet person.

so when you walked up to him, shyly asking to dance, he was quick to take your hand, mumbling an “of course,”

he didn’t miss the hungry look you’d given him an hour before, and ever since then he’d been sporting a raging hard-on, just barley being able to keep it in his pants. but now that he’s holding you? there’s no way he’s letting go.

you danced with the man, admiring his features and the way his eyebrows scrunched up as you both swayed to the music. the sounds of everybody else seemed to muffle as he looked back at you, your eyes locking in a soft gaze. as your lips drew closer, ballroom!katsuki sucked in a breath, before twirling you around and ushering you towards the large palace’s bathrooms.

he didn’t care if it was the woman’s washroom, he bunched your dress up and shoved you in a stall, a large hand placed on your waist to support you as his other hand locked the door.

both of your breaths mixed together, eyes hazy from the feeing of your warmth. he leaned closer to you, licking his lips before pulling you into a hot kiss.

“you think i didn’t see you lookin’ at me like that?” he’d mumble into your ear after pulling away, his free hand pulling up the skirt of your dress, ruby eyes glowing with excitement as he noticed the pretty coloured panties you wore. a thick finger hooked beneath the waistband, pulling it back, then letting it snap back against your skin. he grinned at the yelp that left your lips, hand tugging the lacy fabric down quickly.

he made quick work of his pants, tugging them down before freeing his hardened cock from the confines of his boxers. he glanced at you, scanning your expression for consent, before couching down and planting a hand on your hip. he spat on his finger, before reaching up and rubbing it around your folds, smirking at the sound of your quiet moans.

“quit squirmin,” he’d grunt, standing back up. you looked back at the man, watching as he stroked his cock and spread his saliva over his length, you hadn’t even noticed when you started to rub your thighs together in anticipation. “such an eager one, aren’t ya?” he’d teade, hand squeezing at the flesh of your hip as the other guided the tip of his cock to your entrance.

as he entered your folds you moaned, head tilting back in ecstasy as your eyes fluttered. your pussy clenched around him, practically inviting him. he chuckled gruffly, slowly but surely burying his dick into your tiny little hole.

“mm..!” you’d squeal, body squirming away from the larger man, his grip on you intensifying as he held you in place with both hands now.

“stay still, pretty.” he’d hum, lips attaching themselves to your neck, sucking at your sensitive skin.

ballroom!katsuki almost moaned as your nails clawed at his back, your grip almost strong enough to tear through his expensive suit. he’ll make sure to have a look at it later, but for now, all he could focus on was folding your body into a better position.

he clasped your hands together, lifting them up and pinning you against the bathroom stall’s wall as he thrust up into you roughly. you whined, body twitching as your back arched. you squealed as his fingers pinched at your clit, your own hands desperately tugging to get out of his grasp, you wanted so badly to touch yourself.

“c-clooooseee,” you draw out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as moans and other nasty sounds spill from your tongue. “so close!”

“oh yeah?” the man would smirk at you, thrusting particularly hard into your wet pussy before you gushed all over his cock, your cum dripping onto the tiled floor beneath you as you both panted and moaned.

he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he pulled out of your warm pussy, and as soon as he opened his eyes again, the door was swung open and you were running out, holding your dress up as you dashed out of the woman’s bathrooms.

“wait, i didn’t even get your name!”

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x you #mha #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut

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shebunie · 5 months

Note

hi! heard you're taking requests for mizu... if you're able to, I'd love to see mizu with a y/n that gets super flustered around her! like, she just stutters and fumbles over her words, her face getting all red just because mizu may have looked at her a certain way. she's bad at hiding her obvious crush, but mizu finds it endearing, even cute! she allows herself to be a bit of a tease to y/n, knowing she'll get super red! your fics are super cute, I'd love to see how you'd portray this dynamic!

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗜 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗽𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹!

In the quaint village nestled amidst the serene snow-covered landscape of Mihonoseki, a delicate dance unfolded in the chilly air, unseen but felt by those caught in its subtle web. Amongst the bustling streets and traditional wooden structures, Mizu, a captivating figure with a mischievous glint in her eyes, held a certain fascination for one in particular—you.

The snowy month painted the village a monochrome masterpiece, the soft flakes of snowfall transforming everything into a serene dreamscape. Mizu, with her flowing dark hair and piercing eyes that mirrored the deep winter night, seemed to effortlessly command attention wherever she went. It was not pleasant.

You, however, found yourself ensnared by more than just the beauty of the season.

One chilly afternoon, as the village bustled with activity, a festival was underway, bringing together children and adults alike to wish for a better year. Hanging their desires, wants, and wishes on a tree was a cherished tradition.

The village was filled with joyous chatter, and laughing children created a symphony of happiness. Various stalls displayed an array of food and trinkets that had you in awe. However, amidst the vibrant festivities, you failed to notice the lingering stare of someone.

“Such a pretty hair jewel! Did you make them?” You asked the owner of a stall, gently picking up a delicate hairpin with their hands.

The stall owner, an elderly woman with a warm smile, nodded and began sharing the story behind each meticulously crafted piece. As you listened intently, a shadow fell over the scene. Mizu had silently approached, her eyes fixated on the interaction between you and the stall owner.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu had been observing from afar, her curiosity piqued by the genuine interest you displayed in the artisan's work. The mischievous glint in Mizu's eyes intensified as she silently decided to join the conversation.

“Ah, those are exquisite pieces indeed,” Mizu chimed in, her voice like a soft breeze carrying a hint of mystery. You turned, startled by her sudden presence.

Mizu continued, her gaze locked with yours, "I couldn't help but notice your keen eye for beauty. Perhaps," Mizu's eyes sparkled, and with a sly grin, she plucked a delicate snowflake-shaped hairpin from the display.

"This one," she declared, seemingly confident in her choice. "It's like a piece of winter captured in silver and crystals."

With a quick motion, she gracefully slid the hairpin into your hair, her fingers brushing against your locks. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but meet her gaze, finding a world of mystery in those deep, piercing eyes.

"It suits you."

The festival's joyful ambience seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a suspended moment, like snowflakes frozen in midair. The sword wielder’s action caught you off guard, face burst into a flushed tone, you froze. Struggling to voice out a reply.

Grinning at your baffled state she leaned in, beside your ear her voice a soft whisper only you could hear over the festive clamour.

"You look beautiful."

You could feel the weight of Mizu's words hanging in the air, the roughness of her voice adding to the enchantment of the moment. The festival's vibrant colours and cheerful sounds dimmed as the atmosphere between the two of you intensified. The delicate snowflake hairpin glistened in your hair, catching the soft glow of the surrounding lanterns.

The flush of warmth spread across your cheeks worsen, you spoke in stammers as Mizu pulled away, her sly grin turning into a gentle smile.

"Than– Thank you, Mizu. You didn't have to buy this for, me." You gazed down at your hands, fiddeling with the digits to keep you distracted from the womans close proximity.

The festival noises gradually seeped back into your awareness, but Mizu's presence remained magnetic. She slyly grabbed a hold of your hand as the other was placed behind the small of your back, gesturing towards the lively stalls and the swirling dancers with a tilt of her head, "Shall we explore the festival together? There's so much more to see, and I'd love your company."

Her invitation hung in the air like a promise of further adventures. With a nod, too stunned to utter a word, you found yourself drawn into the flow of the festival by Mizu's side. The vibrant lights, the tantalizing aroma of festival treats, and the lively music enveloped you both as you meandered through the bustling crowd.

Every now and then, your eyes would meet, which you’d avoid in embarrassment, gaze now fixated on the snow-covered path. Mizu couldn't help but be amused by your bashful demeanour. Her laughter, like wind chimes on a crisp winter day, rang through the air. "You're charmingly shy," she remarked, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

"For whatever reason you think it is– stop, stop teasing!”

Mizu's giggle, like a playful melody, filled the air. She leaned back, her gaze meeting yours with a glint of amusement. "Teasing? Me?" she said, feigning innocence, but her eyes betrayed a subtle mischief. "Perhaps a little."

Your playful retort, breaking through the lingering shyness. "You are oddly playful, and I'm getting concerned. Bring my Mizu back." With a turn of your head, facing away from the woman with crossed arms while you huffed.

Her sly grin persisted but now softened with a touch of sincerity. "I can't help but indulge in a bit of fun, especially when your emotions are so effortlessly displayed on your face."

Your heart skipped a beat as Mizu's fingers gently guided your chin, redirecting your gaze to meet hers. The warmth in her eyes seemed to deepen, capturing a sincerity that echoed in her words. The festival's enchantment, once a mere backdrop, now felt like a cocoon enveloping the two of you in a world of shared secrets.

A playful smile played on Mizu's lips as she continued, her voice a whispered melody in the winter night. "There she is," she breathed, as if uncovering a hidden treasure. "You look so endearing right now, how could your Mizu not resist?"

The compliment lingered in the air, creating a moment suspended in time. The festival's vibrant energy seemed to ebb away, leaving only the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle fall of snowflakes. It was as if the world had paused, allowing the connection between you and Mizu to deepen.

Mizu's hand, still cradling your chin, traced a delicate path down, along the veins of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, till she reached the smooth supple skin of your hand, where her fingers interlocked with yours. The touch was tender, a silent promise woven into the fabric of the winter night. As you sat side by side, the festival transformed into a canvas for a shared story, each moment etched with the magic of the unexpected.

The night beckoned with a sense of wonder and anticipation, and Mizu, with a glance filled with unspoken promises, suggested, "Shall we continue our exploration of this enchanting night? There's still so much more to discover, and I'd like nothing more than to have you by my side."

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lavenderrmidnightss · 4 months

Text

Safe and Sound - Billy the Kid

Billy the Kid (tom blyth) x fem!reader

Summary: While walking home one evening from the inn, a man comes across you and attempts to attack you. You are saved by Billy and he begins to grow very protective over you, right from the start.

Warnings: Attempted SA (not successful), cursing

Word Count: 1.9k

PART 2 IS HERE

The walk home felt like a near impossible task despite the reality of it being less than a mile walk. Working at the local inn was not lightwork as some may think. Taking care of others can be exhausting when you have so little to pour out of your cup. The sky’s hues were transitioning from its cerulean blue into shades of purples and pinks. Your eyes were trained on the varying colors that dared to come out as the day shifted into evening. The sunset resembled a masterpiece brushed on a canvas by a renowned artist. With each step, your eyes never failed to tear away from the beauty above you. Each step you took filled the air with echoes of crunching due to the diminutive pieces of gravel hidden in the dirt. Hard to see, but easy to feel through the sole of your shoe. Your commute home seemed to be working as a medium of decompressing until sudden movement out of your peripheral vision stole your attention. You caught a glimpse of a man stumbling towards you. Your instinct to move quickly kicked in, but you knew better. Acting afraid would only entice the man more. ‘Just keep your eyes forward. Just make it home,’ you thought to yourself.

“Where’s a pretty lady like yourself headed?” a coarse voice entered the atmosphere, demanding your focus. You looked over my shoulder, looking at him. Just a couple inches above your own height, he held a gaze on you to imply his superiority.

“And that’s your business, how?” you inquire, daring to stop in your tracks and face him. His complexion smeared with ash and hair slicked with sweat, your wonderings of who he was and why he was approaching you intensified.

The man’s eyebrow’s furrowed, accentuating dense lines and creases in his forehead. He made his way up to you, closing you in. “Well ya sure do got a lot of nerve, don’t ya?” He diabolically chuckled. You began to internally squirm as he noticeably began to eye you.

“Look at you. Exhausted. Looks like you’ve been on your feet for quite some time, haven’t ya?” He interrogated, allowing himself to continue looking you over. You could only imagine what he was envisioning as his eyes fixated on your chest.

“Look like a hardworkin’ woman. I admire that. Ya know, everybody has to earn their keep in these parts..” his voice trailed off just as his body began waltzing closer to yours, entrapping you. Your back soon crashed against a raggedy, abandoned building you weren’t even aware you were passing. It’s astonishing how much your mind evaporates when your main focus is survival. You knew where this was leading. You’ve seen so many women be taken, raped. Even some of your own friends. Men don’t view women as a treasure, but rather an accessory designed to bring them pleasure. It had become an intrusive thought; when would it happen to you? Looks like reality finally caught up with your nightmares.

His calloused hand toyed with the hem of your dress before slipping under. The rough texture of his skin clashed with the silkiness of your own. You were frozen in fear. His face now hovered in front of yours. “Bet you could be a real good worker for me, couldn’t ya?” A condescending smirk decorated his face.

Your stomach churned. “Get off of me. Right now.” The short demands came out urgently. Your hands moved to defend yourself, preparing to shove his stocky body off yours. However, you underestimated his strength and build. He grabbed your wrists and shoved your arms above your head, pinning them there.

“Fiesty too? They say that manifests well in the bed,” his growl echoed in your ear, his face grazing yours. “Mm, you’ll fit right in. Just be good for me, would ya? Listen to what I say and do as you're told, and you’ll be treated well.”

“Fuck off,” you spat in his face, jabbing your knee up to jolt his gut. He stumbled back, releasing you. You took the opportunity to sprint away. The world moved in slow motion. Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough. Time resumed when you felt two hands snatching your waist, slamming you to the ground. The husky body which entrapped you before immediately went for it again, but this time, pinning you into the dirt and gravel mixture where your feet once stood. The pain you once felt radiating from the sole of your shoe, walking on the road, now pierced deeply into your back. You squirmed, trying to loosen yourself from him. It was no use.

“Gonna be a bitch? Then I’ll take you right here for free, show you what you’re missing,” he grumbled, beginning to unbuckle his pants. Continuously trying to make your way out, no amount of thrashing would free you. Looking around you, you tried to decide if screaming for help was even worth it. Who would hear you? You were alone with this man. Your eyes darted up to the sky only to find the pastel colors which once delicately danced above you had descended into darkness.

“P-Please, no, I’ll go with you. I’ll listen. Just, please don’t. Not here, I-” you were a stuttering mess, hoping your pleads would be enough to convince him to get off you. You squeezed your eyes shut. If you didn’t see it, maybe it would be quick and over with? Maybe it would sting less? As soon as your eyes shut, the weight of his body completely lifted off of you. You thought you were dreaming it, that it wasn’t reality. However, the sound of a heavy thud crashing to the ground, along with groaning and pounding, you were assured you were safe.

You open your eyes to find a significantly taller man had swept in. His messy, brunette ringlets dangled in front of his sculpted face as his feet consistently and harshly came in contact with the enemy’s stomach. You weren’t one for violence, but you admitted that seeing this mystery lifesaver relentlessly pounding into this bastard was a joy. You sat up, finding a pair of sapphire eyes lighting the darkness, striking you.

“What’re you waiting for? Go, run,” he called out to you, before putting all his attention back on the attacker. You stumbled to your feet, backing up to guard your body behind a railing. However, your eyes stayed on the match. Really, just the one who swept in to save the day. You studied him closely.

The stocky man who had attempted to pull at the one hovering over him. You were taken aback when in quick response, zero wait time, blue eyes drew out a gun, aiming it at him. “Try that again, and it’ll be the last damn thing you do,” he growled, cocking the gun. The man on the ground shrunk by tenfold. You watched as fear washed over him, the metal rim dangling in his face. Holy shit.

“Get up,” blue eyes demanded him, watching as he slowly stood. The demand in his voice was filled with such hatred. The man who was once so confident now trembled in fear for his life, his hands going in the air. Blue eyes kept his aim on the man before him. “Get out of this town. Far away. Let me so far as see a glimpse of you around these parts, and you’re a dead man. Got it?” The trembling man nodded shakily and quickly, sprinting off without another word.

Suddenly, the world got quiet. Finally. You emerged from your temporary hiding place just as the man who saved your life turned to face you. “Thank you,” you managed to get out. “I-I don’t know what I would’ve done, what would’ve happened if-” A drawn out, thick accent cut you off.

“I’m sure of what would’ve happened, and it would’ve been awful. What’re you doin’ anyway, walking around here this time of evenin’ all by yourself?” He secured his gun into its holster as he made his way over to me. His demeanor was entirely different. He radiated protection, genuinity. Minutes prior, you were trying to escape a nightmare. Now, you were being drawn in by a stranger’s kind act and handsome features. You felt safe. How refreshing.

“I was just heading home from the inn. What’s your name?” you asked, desperate to know the name of the one who guarded you.

“Name’s Billy. And you?” Billy. His name etched into your mind, knowing it would now hold a priority in the forefront of your thoughts. You told him your name, to which he nodded. “How about I get you home?”

With that, Billy guided you on the path back home. The gravel didn’t seem so daunting against your soles now. Under the pitch black sky adorned with stars, you had Billy to protect you. The walk to your place wasn’t filled with much conversation, but when it was, you were fascinated by his thoughts and the sound of his voice.

Once he had successfully guided you to your destination, you noted that his eyes scanned over the place almost as if he were attempting to memorize its design and build. Billy didn’t want to leave you. He couldn’t invite himself in, couldn’t insist you to leave with him. Not after what he had just saved you from. He knew if there was a shot in hell he was going to gain your trust, he had to demonstrate he was worthy of it.

“He didn’t hurt you, right, darlin’?” Billy’s tone was now hushed, almost as if it solidified his authenticity. Billy’s eyes were a shade you had never seen before, but a shade you would quickly find filling your dreams. Your heart admittedly flipped at the sound of the pet name rolling off his tongue so effortlessly.

“No, he didn’t. You got there just in time. Thank you, Billy. Again. Don’t know how I could ever return the favor for what you’ve done for me.” Billy’s smile lit up the night sky, melting you from head to toe. He shook his head, shrugging.

“No greater pleasure than protecting ya. Now, get in and get some rest.” Billy watched you disappear into your house, the screen door creaking behind you. It felt wrong to leave you so abruptly. Never before had he felt a desire to stay up long hours of the night getting to know another before, but for you, he ached to. Billy couldn’t leave you. As you went in and laid down, wondering where Billy was headed off to and if you would ever even see him again, Billy sat down on the steps of your porch. Adjusting himself, his back aligned with the post. Leaning his head back, he pushed the strands of hair out of his face. He basked in the breeze of the night, listening to the harmony of varying late night insects. He also intently listened for any potential danger, looking to protect you at all costs. Maybe it was the innocence in your voice that enticed him. Maybe it was the way your hair flowed down, the way you were unafraid to fight that enthralled him. Regardless of how it happened, Billy had an instantaneous desire to keep you out of harm’s way, no matter what it cost. As you laid in bed, you thought of Billy. As he leaned against your porch that night, he knew he was doing his job. He was keeping you safe and sound.

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