#I’ve been working on them again in between commission work now!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matryosika · 9 months

Text

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth.

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?”

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway.

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?”

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”.

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”.

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished.

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind.

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”.

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”.

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung.

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”.

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”.

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to.

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder.

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back.

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards.

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees.

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”.

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you.

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”.

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches.

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”.

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit.

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations.

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it.

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it.

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?”

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”.

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”.

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you.

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time.

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up.

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable.

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there.

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you.

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?”

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast.

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile.

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

2K notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 3 months

Text

Points Have Been Made - Charles Leclerc/Reader/Max Verstappen

Words: 3,363 Summary: Max and Charles find out something happened to their girlfriend. Note(s): Thank you Mak for commissioning this! Mentions of medical stuff, infertility (not reader). One German word, one Dutch word, some French words. Jenson Button appears in this fic, because uh, well, I love him and honestly, I’d like to think (write) him having a weird soft spot for Max (and Charles) after seeing him more recently around Logan.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

“Max.” He lets out a hum, his focus on the car and racing line into turn nine. “Box box.” “What?” His eyes flick up to where a yellow or red flag would be waved but there isn’t anything. “I’ve only done three laps on these tires.” “Box box.” His brows furrow beneath his helmet and balaclava at the non-answer.

Pulling off the track and into the pit lane, his fingers tap against the wheel as they pull his car back into the garage. He sits there expecting the mechanics to make some sort of adjustments but instead they start doing what they do at the end of a session, cooling the car down, prepping it for its next use.

He feels a slight pressure to the top of his helmet and then GP is in his line of sight, leaning into his space and car, perfectly helping to cover him with the mechanics and engineers, so the camera can’t see inside. “Something happened, Max. Session is over for you.” His heart starts thudding in his chest, panic threatening to overtake him. “What happened?” His voice is muffled by the helmet but he knows that GP hears it from the way his frown deepens. “Out of the car, Max. We’re doing our best to not let cameras see in, but who knows how long that will last.” Max looks at the mechanics and engineers and only now takes note of how they’re standing. It’s a carefully constructed wall, not allowing the cameras to see him at all. “Alright.” He murmurs.

He focuses on his hands as he disconnects the steering wheel, resting it on top of the car before pulling his gloves off. He doesn’t know why but he expects them to be shaking, but they’re perfectly still, like always. Jaw clenched, he stands, bending at the waist to grab the steering wheel and put it back on before hopping out of the car.

It’s odd to take his helmet off, passing it gratefully to Annie who whisks it and his gloves away.

“What happened?” He asks GP again. A hand is pressed against his back, pushing him to walk and he does. Undoing the near too tight collar of the race suit as he walks. It’s only once they’ve nearly disappeared behind the wall, where outside cameras aren’t allowed that GP speaks. “It’s about Y/N.” And the rug disappears out from underneath his feet.

—

“I’m okay, mama. I promise.” She says, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she rubs at her head. “You're sick. And I know that neither Max or Charles is with you.” “I will be okay, I’m a big girl.” “Your my baby.”

Her heart clenches at her mom’s words. All of her friends growing up and even some now all thought of her mother as overbearing, with the weekly phone calls, daily check ins and texts, but she was her mother’s only child. She grew up knowing that she was supposed to have siblings, that she was never supposed to be an only child, but it hadn’t worked that way for her mother and it had made her protective of her only child.

“I know, mama. But I’m okay.” Her words nearly flatter as a wave of dizziness hits her, but she pushes it away, clutching at the counter with her left hand as her right rubs at her temple. “The weather just changed here in Monaco. Y’know how that goes.” Her mom makes a noise, not believing her. “Pascale will be coming over for dinner, to check on me. Charles' orders. Will you believe her?” “Oh, Kindchen.” Her voice is soft, so reminiscent of her childhood. “It is not that I don’t believe you. It is that you are always the last to notice when you are unwell.” “I will be okay and she will text you to update you. Now go to your book club. I know that it is today.” “It’s not a book club!” “It’s a book club, mama.” She laughs, wincing immediately at the way the movement makes her feel unsteady. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow alright?” “Alright.” She agrees. “Love you.” “I love you too.”

As soon as her mom hangs up, she takes a deep ragged breath. Her hand on her forehead, that’s damp now with sweat which makes her nose wrinkles, grasps at her phone before setting it on the counter.

It’s only when it knocks into something she realizes she’s had her eyes closed and she doesn’t know for how long. Opening them, she blinks at how bright the kitchen is. Turning her head slowly, her nose wrinkles up again at how the sun is positioned in the sky. No wonder it was so bright.

Letting go of the counter and taking a step towards the living room, she swears when a wave of dizziness rushes over again and she’s clutching at the counter again. The edge of it digging into both of her palms.

“Fuck.” She breathes when it’s passed. She watches as a bead of sweat drips off of her onto arm. She needed a shower. She needed to shower before Pascale got here. With the reminder of Pascale coming in a few hours she takes a few more deep breaths before letting go of the counter and walking.

Only it isn’t just a wave of dizziness that hits her, but a tidal wave and before she can catch herself, she falls to the floor, head hitting the tile hard and knocking her out.

—

“What happened to her?” Max asks, feet seeming to be glued to the floor as GP tries to push him deeper. “GP, what happened?” GP looks around before leaning into his space, a hand on the back of his neck pressing, and Max lets him push his head down. “Pascale found her passed out, she hit her head on the way down. They’re still waiting for test results.” “But,” His mind is whirling, trying and failing to understand what is happening. “Where is Charles?” If GP is surprised by his next question he doesn’t show it. “He’s still out there. He just about told Xavi to fuck himself when Xavi told him to abort his lap.” Normally that would make Max smirk, chuckle but he can’t be bothered. “I need to tell him. He can’t hear it from Xavi or Fred.” “Andrea was going to tell him.” Max shakes his head. “She’s in Monaco. Charles can’t find out by himself.” He looks at GP pleadingly and the older man nods. “I know, go and get out of your race suit and you can go right on over. Fred is expecting you.” Max quickly claps GP on the shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you.” He rushes to say again as he moves quickly to his room.

—

Charles is grinning as his car is pulled into the garage. He doesn’t know what Xavi was thinking, telling him to abandon that lap. It was amazing. And yes he knew that his session was over, cut short due to a new setup that they wanted to try out, but it was fine. This track had always treated him nicely and with this car, it would hopefully even treat him to a win or he mused considering Max, second place.

Climbing out of the car and pulling his gloves and then helmet off, he doesn’t notice the way the engineers and mechanics are blocking the cameras from seeing anything, or the worried looks from Fred and Xavi. He just notices the worry on Andrea’s face when he catches sight of Max, standing just out of sight if you look into the garage, close to where the drivers rooms are. And he does notice the look on Max’s face, it makes his stomach drop and he rushes to him, not even murmuring a thank you to Jean who takes his helmet and gloves from him.

“Max,” he breathes, hands fluttering before they rest gently on his face. “What happened, Mon coeur?” “Charles,” his name is broken up by a stuttered breath. “Did something happen to Sophie? Vic? Luke? Leo? Jos?” Max shakes his head at every name. Dread fills him even more. “Y/N?” Max’s eyes close and he nods. “No.”

“Charles.” Andrea’s voice is in his ear, ushering him forward. “Let’s get you both somewhere private.” He nods, letting his hands fall away from Max’s face, though he can’t help but to grab Max’s hand, intertwining their fingers, needing the touch, and Max clearly does too with the way he squeezes his hand back.

As soon as his driver's room door shuts, Andrea speaks again before Charles can ask anything.

“Pascale called me maybe ten minutes ago. She went over to yours for dinner, to check on Y/N and found her passed out on the kitchen floor.” Charles makes a wounded noise and his already tight grip on Max’s hand grows worse and the barely older man doesn’t even wince or jump. Doesn’t seem to notice. “They’re at the hospital.” Andrea’s voice is somehow even gentler than before when he says it. “They are at?” “Yes.” “Oh, maman.” He murmurs, feeling tears prick his eyes and Max drops his hand, wrapping an arm around him, bringing him close. “They are waiting for test results.” Max says. “GP made me box. He told me and I rushed over here.” “I,” Charles shudders. “Is she okay? I mean she passed out on the floor. How?” “I don’t know. They only just got there or at least that’s what it sounded like.” Charles nodded. “Thank you, Andrea. For getting a hold of GP.” Andrea sends Max a look. “Of course, Max.”

Andrea leaves the room, leaving them alone and Max as soon as the door shuts, wraps Charles completely in a hug, holding him tight as he tries to comfort himself with at least having one of his partners healthy and safe in his arms.

“I,” Charles struggles again. “I should call someone to go be with maman. She shouldn’t be there alone. Not at least till I can get there.” “Charles,” Max starts to say and Charles shakes his head, pushing away. “No, Max. I know it is a race weekend. But it is just a two-hour flight away, I can be back before qualifying if it is not too bad.” “Charles,” he tries again. “I have to go. I can’t just be here while she is unwell.” “Charles,” and this time Max is holding his face, making him incapable of speaking. “I am going with you. Fuck the race. If it is bad, it is not like we will lose our spots in the championship. Everyone else is more than forty points behind, we will be fine. Let me call my pilot, the jet will be ready by the time we get to the airport.” “Merci, Max.” Charles breaths, pressing their lips together. “Merci.”

—

“Pascale?” She mumbles when she opens her eyes and sees the woman sitting beside her. “Did I fall asleep?” She tries to sit up but her head aches, making her groan, and Pascale is gently pushing her back down. “Lay down, sweetheart.” “What?” Her eyes wander around the room as she realizes this isn’t her, Max, and Charles shared place. It’s far too clean, sterile. She tries to lift her arm and winces when there’s a tugging sensation. Her eyes fall to her arm and more confusion builds as she sees an IV. “Pascale, what happened?” “I found you passed out on the kitchen floor.” “But,” she couldn’t have passed out. Right? Her mind struggled to remember it. She knew she had been feeling dizzy, but enough to pass out. “Are we at the hospital?” “We are.” Pascale’s hand pats hers. “I will be right back. I’m going to get the nurse, okay?” She nods and as Pascale darts out the room, her eyes land on someone sitting just outside her room. “Jenson?”

—

“Anything new?” Charles shakes his head, frowning at his phone. “Like before, they knew that she was dehydrated as soon as she came in but they are still waiting for everything else to come back.” “What is taking so long? Is it money?” Max runs his hand through his hair, before he looks at Charles. “Call them, the hospital. Throw your name around, prince of Monaco.” “Max.” Charles hisses. “I am not the prince of Monaco. And I can’t call them. Nothing will happen if I call.” He huffs, slumping back in his seat.

It's silent for a moment.

“Are you,” “Yes, I’m sure, Max.” He reaches over and squeezes Max’s hand before tangling their fingers together, lifting them to give him a kiss. “We will be there soon.”

—

She tries her best to focus on the doctor as they examine her but her eyes keep going to Jenson. Now inside of her room and standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest as he watches intently.

“You have a mild concussion from the fall. The back of your head will be tender.” “But why did she faint?” The doctor frowns, “Normally I’d have the answer for you. But our lab is abnormally backed up and we are down to one lab technician. As soon as the results are in, I will be back to give them to you.” “Take your time.” She smiles.

Jenson shakes his head when the doctor leaves. “How does Monaco, of all places, have only one lab technician working?” “Jenson, what are you doing here?” He smiles at her, coming closer to her and bending quickly to press a kiss to her cheek. “Max texted me. Asked me to keep you and Pascale company. I was already here in Monaco.” She smiles at the older driver. He and Max’s friendship wasn’t too well known, but they talked often. Then she frowns, because Max had asked him. “Max asked you?” Her eyes then look over at Pascale. “I texted Andrea.” She nods. “Can you tell them I’m okay. There is no need to worry.” “Sweetheart.” “Pascale, I’m okay. I haven’t felt dizzy since I woke up, my head hurts a little from the concussion that’s all.”

Before Pascale can respond her attention is drawn away by the sound of the room door practically being thrown up and two voices on top of each other.

“Cheri!” “Schat!”

—

“We were so worried.” Charles murmurs, holding her face gently. “How is your head feeling?” Max asks, sitting beside her on the bed, arm wrapped around her. “I’m okay.” She smiles at both of them. “My head hurts a bit, but that will go away soon enough.” Charles frowns, fingers gently brushing over her cheekbones, before he drops his hands to hold both of hers. “Are you sure? I’m sure we could get you some meds.” “I’m sure, Prince Charles could get you some meds.” Max whispers in her ear making her laugh while Charles sends him a dirty look, though a smile is playing on his lips. “Don’t listen to him, Cherie.” She smiles at Charles, carefully leaning forward to press their lips together. Before being even more careful as she turns her head to kiss Max.

“Thank you both for coming.” “Of course.” “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Charles and her both look at Max, eyebrows raised. “Okay, I can think of places I’d rather we be.” He admits. Charles shakes his head, “so silly.” He murmurs, leaning across her to kiss Max. “Now, why don’t we have your test results back yet?”

“There’s a backlog.” Jenson says, grinning when Charles jumps at the sound of his voice. “Max sent me over to keep them company as soon as you guys figured out the game plan.” Charles' entire face softens and Max flushes at the look their boyfriend sends him. “And they only have one lab technician.” Max lets out a curse. “Did you try bribing them?” “I could go try if you’d like.” Max starts to nod, but a knock sounds on the door and it opens.

She watches as the doctor blinks at the two new people in her room but ignores them, focusing on her. “I’ve got your results right here. Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar and I mean very low blood sugar. When’s the last time you ate?” Her brows furrow.

She remembered eating Tuesday night with Max and Charles before they left. A nice dinner that her and Max made, Charles pouring them more drinks or chopping and stirring things. But she had eaten something the next morning hadn’t she? Her head throbs as she thinks, but she ignores it, trying to remember and winces from both the pain and the realization that she hadn’t eaten anything since Tuesday night.

“Tuesday night. I was going to eat breakfast on Wednesday but we were out of my breakfast bars and then I got so busy and I just wasn’t hungry.” “Are you not hungry often?” “Sometimes. But even then I make sure to eat at least one meal a day, I snack throughout. I’ve never done this before.” They nod. “As long as this isn’t a normal occurrence, I don’t see an issue. But, you need to make sure you are eating often. You don’t want to be back in here because you forgot to eat and it made your blood sugar drop.” “Of course. Thank you so much.” They nod. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork done and as soon as you're finished with the bag, you’ll be free to go.”

—

“When are you guys flying back?” She asks, Max’s head in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair as she leans against Charles. Max makes a face. “We won’t be.”

Charles and him had both talked about it as they got Pascale home and she settled in. Their teams would be unhappy, but it wasn’t like they could be overtaken in the championship. They could live. And they had two weeks after this with no racing. Two weeks where they could make sure she was eating, taking care of herself. And she’d be going to the next race anyway. This had been a sort of one-off due to all the things that had piled up at home.

“What do you mean you won’t be?” “We can miss a race. Max is twenty points ahead of me, I am forty-seven points ahead of Oscar.” “I have so many questions about that.” She murmurs, because god what was this season. Checo barely hung onto fourth in the championship with George hunting him down, Lewis and Lando hunting down George. Barely fifteen points collectively separating third to seventh. Charles snorts. “Many people would like to know the same.” “You should go though. Put more of a lead in the points.” Max and Charles share a look, a bit hard with their positions but they manage. “No.” They both agree. “I can survive not even two days. I’ll go stay with Pascale. Have Arthur stay with me. Or Jenson since he’s here in Monaco.” “No.” They say again at the same time. “You are far more important than another twenty-five or eighteen points.” Max continues. She sighs, looking at them both. “Three stubborn people is way too many people in a relationship.” “I think it’s perfect.” “Suck up.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him on the forehead. “Says you.”

“Boys, settle down.” “Love you.” They chorus. She shakes her head, sighing. “If you will not go without me, I will just go with you.” “You have a concussion.” “A mild concussion. And we all know that you have flown before with a concussion, Charles.” He pouts, “it was just once.” “Twice.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him again.

“I will go with you tomorrow. Just please make the flight later than eight am.” “Done.” Max says, already texting his flight crew. “Thank you.” She starts to bend to kiss Max, when her face is redirected to look at Charles and he kisses her. She expects Max to whine but as soon as Charles is done, Max is turning her head the other way, no longer laying in her lap, to kiss her as well.

@fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @ironspdy @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @eutrizbea @namgification @eugene-emt-roe @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @stopeatread @hiireadstuff

#lestappan x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

888 notes · View notes

slightecho · 7 months

Text

Goldenrod and Aster

commission by the lovely and amazing @turquoisespace35 of a very familiar scene from my Owl House fic, Ashes!!

Then, the clearing in the trees came into full view, and Willow let out a soft gasp. The sun shone through in bright rays, lighting up everything in a warm golden yellow. No leaves touched the ground here. Instead, the clearing was filled in a blanket of yellow, purples and green! The brushing she’d felt along her legs had been lush spikes of yellow flowers, strong and healthy as she passed by them. And where there were gaps amongst the fluffy-looking tufts of yellow, bunches of small, purple flowers like starbursts grew in between. “Goldenrod,” she giggled, reaching out to lightly touch a dusty branch. As she eased forward into the clearing, she was careful not to step on any big stems. Her fingertips drifted easily to the purple next, and she crouched down with a smile on her face. “And Aster…” These were often mistaken for daisies in her dad’s shop. It was getting more common to see these two plants growing together in the wild—their colors contrasted, and that meant they would attract different pollinators. Because of this, growing together would give them each benefit from the pollinators from the other. A whole new set of ones they would have never attracted on their own. They were able to grow more flowers together, than apart, that way. A wonderfully symbiotic relationship. Willow smiled up at Hunter, and snickered. “I’m guessing you probably also found all the major beehives on this side of Gravesfield, but don’t look for them now,” she remarked. The bees were likely starting to go dormant with the days growing colder. It was best not to disturb them. Hunter blanched, his eyes going wide and his proud grin falling from his face. “Wait, what?”

Working with @turquoisespace35 on this commission was an absolute pleasure! I’ve been such a fan of her work for a long time and I knew if I ever commissioned a Huntlow piece from Ashes, it would have to be from her! Thank you again, Turquoise!!

I can’t believe how perfectly she captured the vibe and the ambience of the scene without ever having read a single word of Ashes, just my own TL;DR description of the scene. 🥰

If anyone’s looking to commission Huntlow artwork, please check @turquoisespace35 out!

If you’re interested in checking out Ashes, you can do so here:

#toh ashes au #the owl house #toh #the owl house fanfiction #toh au #toh fanfic #toh hunter #toh willow #huntlow #huntlow art #willow park #hunter wittebane #hunter clawthorne #hunter toh #hunter noceda #fanfic art #commission

638 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 13: Size Difference

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7129

Warnings: Afab!/reader, size difference, noncon, abduction, bathing, aphrodisiacs, drugging, bareback, stomach bulge, gendered terms

A/N: okay, look … I’ve been deeply in love with the Daythunder Eremites since we got our first glimpse of them right before 3.0 dropped. Did I lose the plot a little bit on this one? Maybe. But I’m actually obsessed with this NPC. I even went around and marked their locations on my map with the little meat pin. ✋😭 I quite literally ran OUT of available pins because of it. Not one single person better question why I picked him for this prompt instead of Enjou (I was extremely tempted tho, trust and believe that xmdkxk)

⭐

It was quickly becoming apparent that you were in a bit over your head with this commission. Between the wailing researchers on the ground, the frightened Sumpter Beast making a lumbering escape for the near distant tree line, the attacking Eremites and the damaged cart that had inexplicably caught fire at some point, the situation was clearly spiraling far out of your control.

Gripping your sword so hard it hurts, you try to take stock of what was happening and regroup. There wasn’t enough time to fully process it though. The small stretch of road — if you could even call it that — had devolved into complete and utter chaos in the blink of an eye, and you have to lurch to avoid the incoming swing of a huge battle ax before you can make any sense of it. But if there was one thing you knew, intrinsically, it was that there were too many of them for you to take on alone. It was too much for a single adventurer no matter how talented or skilled you may have been.

You dance back, not even daring to breathe as you agily avoid the weapon swinging at you with so much force you not only hear the violent displacement of air but you can even feel it too. This was incredibly dangerous. One hit from that ax would shatter bones, possibly even crush organs, and you’d likely be dead before the day was through. You had to get away but — pivoting your body, you steal a split second glance at the helpless researchers. They were cowering at the feet of a girl, no older than yourself, who was holding them at blade point while the other Eremites quickly worked to unload the cargo before it all went up in smoke with the burning cart. You needed to get away but so did they.

Clenching your teeth, you duck to avoid the next swing and dive under that huge, muscular arm to hit the dirt. You feel him shift behind you, alter the momentum and start to bring the heavy ax down right on top of you. Bracing for the destructive impact, you throw yourself forward into a stiff roll seconds before the ground erupts in a spray of dirt and grass that showers you in grime even when you skid to a halt some few feet away. Your heart feels like it’s going to slam right out of your chest as you frantically stumble to your feet on jelly filled legs, almost dropping your sword in your haste.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to avoid that hit …

With a choked, gasping wheeze, you force yourself into a dead sprint, ignoring the thrumming terror that threatens to debilitate you as you dart across the road right towards the Eremite girl. You may not have been able to save their precious research but you could still save them!

“Run!” You scream, making her turn. It was too late though.

Leaning your shoulder into it, you slam into her so hard both of you go flying through the air to hit the ground in a heap. It knocks the air out of you (and her, by the sound of it) but you quickly roll away and struggle to your feet once again. There’s so much adrenaline pumping through your system you hardly even feel yourself moving, numb to everything going on around you, but you’re still distantly aware of the resulting scramble when the two researchers jump up to make a break for it. Good. At least now you could worry about yourself.

But you don’t quite make it that far.

The huge man with the ax is suddenly right on top of you — you hadn’t even seen him coming! Your heartbeat stutters a surprised beat and you just barely get your sword up in time to block his next swing. Unfortunately the force of it knocks your blade from your screaming hands, sending it pinwheeling up and away at such a high arc you could never hope to snag it and he doesn’t stop long enough to let you watch it fall back to the earth.

One second you’re stumbling from the impact. The next he’s snatching a fistful of your hair to yank you towards him, and you collapse at his feet on your knees. Sharp, stabbing splinters of pain shoot through your body but it’s quickly overshadowed by the agony of him using his hold on your hair to pull you upright, damn near taking you right off the ground. Seething, you force your eyes open to glare daggers at him when he bends close and puts his face inches from yours in a clear, obvious display of intimidation.

“That was a stupid thing to do.”

“I’ll kill her!” The Eremite girl shrieks, scrabbling to get up. “I’ll skin her alive and put her head on a spike!”

You go stockstill, lungs constricting painfully when you feel her reach for you. But, to your squawking surprise, the huge man physically drags you away from her and closer to himself like you were little more than a toy they were fighting over.

“Wait, Siri. Not yet.” He warns, the low growl in his voice growing stronger, and you sway in his hold with a suffocating feeling of dread. What a terrible situation to find yourself in. “Let me have this one. You can play with her when I’m done.”

“Do you really think I want your leftovers?” She snaps, both of them completely ignoring the way you wheeze between them. “She shoved me onto the ground, Aziz! She’ll be lucky if that’s all I do! I’m going to pluck out her eyes and - -“

“Enough, you two!” A third Eremite barks over. Still panting raggedly, you carefully turn your head even when it tugs at your hair to find another towering man standing some few feet away with one of the salvaged crates clutched against his chest. Idly, you realize the cart was almost completely engulfed in flames now and rapidly turning to smoldered ash. The guild was going to get such an earful from you if you made it out of this alive.

“But - -“

“I don’t want to hear it!” The other man cuts her off again. “We need to get this stuff out of here. Now! Those two researchers escaped so we need to be long gone before they send in backup. Bring the adventurer if you want, I don’t care. Just get your asses in gear.”

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Siri shoots you a quick look that is no less chilling behind the red cloth hiding her eyes before stiffly pushing into motion. You watch her walk away to join the others, your stomach cramping with nerves, and it only gets worse when Aziz tugs on your hair to bring your attention back up to him again.

“Looks like you got lucky today. In more ways than one, I’d say.” Pausing, he puts his head to one side to send the braid over his temple swinging, and you can’t quite shake the impression of being a helpless rabbit caught under a tiger's paw. He was so massive, and the way he looks at you ... “I admit, your swordsmanship was pretty good. You’ve got good instincts even if you don’t have the strength to back it up. Tell me, little adventurer. Where do you hail from?”

You draw a steadying breath and try not to regurgitate everything that was in your stomach right down to the bile. “Mondstadt. I’m originally from Mond.”

“I see. You’re a far way from home then. I hope no one there is going to miss you too much.”

~*~

They lead you into a camp, blindfolded and with your wrists bound behind your back, but you recognize the distinct sounds of daily life for what they are immediately. You can hear children shrieking and laughing, weaving in and out of your peripheral senses in what could only be play. There were women murmuring nearby, speaking so low you couldn’t make out what they were saying when the grizzled voices of older men seemed to drown them out. You can just make out what you think must be a dog snuffling around your ankles in a quick burst of sound before darting away when they drag you further in and, somewhere, a goat bleats.

There’s sand under your feet now so you knew you were no longer in the lush rainforests of Sumeru but, rather, the desert. You’d never gone this far west before, precisely because of the grip the Eremites had on the area. Having heard plenty of stories about just how cutthroat they could be in the harsh environment they called home, you had wanted to avoid crossing paths with them if at all possible but a lot of good that had done you.

The acrid, dry air seems to rob you of the ability to breathe and you stumble, gasping against the grit and oppressive heat, when Aziz shoves you through what must be a doorway. Abruptly you’re enshrouded in a blanket of cool that is so noticeably different from the temperature outside it actually makes you shiver at the sudden change. He doesn’t give you a chance to truly appreciate it or sigh out in relief though, simply pulling you by the arm even when you nearly trip over your own aching feet.

His hand feels impossibly huge on your neck when he finally palms the back of it and shoves you down to sit on the floor, forcing your legs to splay under you at an awkward angle. Panting, you cautiously shift to settle on your butt even as he reaches up to loosen the knot he’d tied behind your head. It falls away with a quiet slither of fabric, and you blink into the gloom of what you quickly realize is a tent. His tent? You couldn’t be sure, and you weren’t entirely certain you wanted to know.

“You don’t have to do this …” You whisper into the stillness, and he just scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is I’m going to do yet. Be patient, little adventurer from Mondstadt. You might like it.”

You very much doubted that, but hold your tongue on the slim hope that compliance might see you through this in one piece. Even if your arms hadn’t been secured behind your back it was obvious you still wouldn’t have been much of a match against someone like him. He’d already thoroughly cemented that back in the forest. Because not only was Aziz incredibly tall, he was also filled out and thick with heavy muscle mass. Just one of his biceps looked like it was greater in width than your thigh and you fully believed he could crush you like a grape if he so chose. With no other option available, you grudgingly acquiesce when he turns you around to face him.

He was still wearing his own blindfold, that rich red brocade hiding his eyes, but you recognized the way he looked at you even without being able to see them. You’re not entirely sure how he — or any of the Eremites — got around as well as they did without the use of their sight, and a tremor tears through you when he sedately reaches out to touch the side of your face. Not so much as a split second falter or other sign of hesitation. It was like he knew exactly where you were, like he could see through the material, and a fresh curling tendril of unease snakes through you at the thought of his people having some divinely appointed sixth sense. Was that why their strongest warriors covered their faces?

“You’re filthy.” He suddenly announces, and you know it’s not just the grit of dirt and sand he’s talking about. You were thoroughly drenched in sweat from the trek out here as much as your earlier standoff with him, and it was now quickly cooling to settle a chill over your sore body.

Jaw clenching, you turn your face from him. “Is it really any wonder? You almost took my head off back there.”

Chuckling softly, Aziz drops his hand to rest on his bent knee where he’s knelt in front of you. “Sorry about that. If it counts for anything, Siri almost took it too.”

You send him a slow, wary look. Was that really supposed to make you feel any better?

He just offers up an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders though, and then moves to straighten up. Watching him walk over to a big clay pot standing sentry a few paces away, you momentarily toy with the notion of running while his back was turned but immediately quash the thought. The grim reality of the situation was not lost on you. Not only did you have no idea where you were and even less of an idea how to get back, you also had no working knowledge of how to survive in the desert. Even if you could get past him and then all the other Eremites outside, escape the camp, what would you do then? No food, no water, not even any supplies or extra clothes to keep you warm when night inevitably fell. You’d be a sitting duck for any hungry predators out on the prowl if hypothermia didn’t catch up to you first. You’d heard how cold it gets after the sun sets out here, and you weren’t sure if you were brave enough to take the chance …

It doesn’t matter either way. Before you can even consider changing your mind Aziz returns with a shallow bowl and a rag which you regard suspiciously when he sets it aside. You could guess where this was going, but it still shocks you a great deal that he then reaches for the front of your clothes like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing, and without so much as an ounce of shame to show for it either.

“Wait - -“

“Hush, adventurer. I won’t hurt you so long as you play nice and remember not to bite the hand keeping you alive.”

Swallowing hard, you numbly watch him take the front of your guild uniform in hand and casually pop it open with a sedate tug that sends buttons flying in either direction. They fall near silent across the worn tarp that serves as the floor of the tent, and you draw a slow, shuddering breath. Try not to linger on the way his heavy knuckles brush against your chest while he pulls the shirt open to expose the silk chemise underneath. Distantly, you start to wonder if he’ll untie your hands just to get you undressed, thinking you might have a chance to flee after all — but then he rips at the fabric, giving you a sudden jerk at the force, and your mouth drops open in shock when it simply tears from you in a ragged panel.

Realizing he’s just going to peel it off you in pieces, you purse your lips into a tight line to stop yourself from crying out as he shreds your blouse to tatters and ribbons that fall to the floor around you in a pathetic heap. He does the same with the chemise and then your long skirt, pausing only long enough to yank away your boots, hose and, finally, your bloomers. You don’t give up the last without a fight but he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge all your squirming and twisting while he easily manhandles you to relieve you of your final dignity some moments later.

Seething, you primly squeeze your legs together to hide your most intimate spot from him but it barely gives Aziz pause. One of those massive hands reaches out to clamp around your ankle and he none too gently drags you across the floor to leave you laid out on your back. Ignoring your incensed hissing, he shifts and settles into a cross legged position in front of you before reaching calmly for the bowl.

“You remind me of a cat, you know that?” He murmurs, dipping the rag into the water to soak it through as you struggle back up into a sitting position.

“One of the Rishboland Tigers, I hope.”

He outright laughs. “No. You are like a very small, very feisty kitten that hasn’t yet learned her place in this world.”

You stiffen at that, narrowing your eyes at him, but he pays it little mind. Squeezing out the rag of excess water, he stretches his hand out towards your face again and you stubbornly try to crane your neck to escape it. Aziz just follows you though, and you give a startled little squawk when he finally presses the cool cloth into your cheek.

“That’s cold!”

Softly shushing you, he drags the rag over your skin to wipe away all the sweat, dirt and grime coating your face. Much to your grudging dismay you quickly find that it actually felt rather nice and he was not near as violent or brutish about it as his appearance would have suggested he’d be. It’s almost gentle, in fact, and you slowly find yourself relaxing into it with a stilted sigh. You would be glad to be clean again, even if you had to endure the humiliation of being washed like a child to achieve it.

Cautiously roving your eyes up when he starts to work his way down your neck, you take a moment to really study him. You couldn’t say for sure if he was looking back at you or if the brunt of his attention was focused on the task at hand, but you try not to let that uncertainty dissuade you. After all, if he was bold enough to undress you like this then surely he could handle a bit of staring. And you think, with no shortage of surprise, that he was probably handsome under that mask. His jaw was smooth and well defined, housing a pair of full, kissable lips that purse slightly when he scrubs at a splotch of dirt on your throat. You still didn’t like him very much after he’d almost smashed you to bits with his giant ax and then kidnapped you, spirited away into the inhospitable desert, but you couldn’t exactly deny what was in front of you.

Maybe if you’d met under (vastly) different circumstances …

“Do you like what you see?”

You sniff and look away to take in the rest of the tent. “Hardly.”

Aziz chuckles again while he rinses out the rag in the dish before bringing it back to your skin once again. “Such a grumpy little adventurer … what are you doing so far away from home? I’ve heard Mondstadt is very different from Sumeru.”

“It is,” You relent, hating yourself for leaning into his touch when he caresses over a throbbing spot on your shoulder. You must have banged it on the ground rolling around earlier, or maybe it was from plowing into Siri. “We don’t have any deserts or great big forests. Well … none like what Sumeru has, anyway. No tigers to worry about, either. All we’ve got are wolves, but they don’t usually attack humans.”

He hums a quiet sound of acknowledgement, taking a moment to massage into the aching muscle under his heavy fingers when he sees the pinch in your expression. “You miss it.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and you sigh. “Considering where I’m at right now, yeah. It’s kind of hard not to.”

“Grumpy.”

You try not to scowl at that, knowing it wouldn’t get you anywhere even if you kicked up a fit and fought him tooth and nail. At least he was being nice about it. That was one good thing in all this, you think — only to suck in a quick breath as he drags his hand lower to wipe your chest clean. You know it’s coming but it still pulls a quiet whimper out of you when the rag passes over your breast, catching at the nipple to send a static jolt through your body. Shirking, you try to twist away from him but it’s useless with your hands tied behind your back and he just follows you. The way he kneads and squeezes at the swell of flesh under the guise of cleaning you up doesn’t escape your notice, and neither does your reaction to it. But it horrifies you more than anything else and, steadying yourself, you try to rein it in. If ever there was a worse time for your baser urges to start taking over, this would have been it.

But rather than lingering, Aziz soon switches to the other side which he gives the same level of patient attention to. A handful of groping squeezes, a brief pinch to the nipple and then he’s moving on again. Your breathing starts to pick up as he works his way lower, swiping the rag under your breasts to lift and nudge them against his thick knuckles. His skin is rough and calloused on yours wherever it touches, and you hate the way it makes you feel. Hot and flushed, and just ever so slightly sensitized in his wake. A shudder tears down your spine when he starts running the wet cloth over your stomach.

“W - wait —“

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t even so much as pause, and you try very hard not to yelp when he rather boldly swipes his hand from your bellybutton straight into the soft cradle of your thighs. Eyes widening in mute horror, you rock back and try to squeeze your legs shut to no avail. He just leans forward, invading your space again as his unoccupied hand comes up to wrap around the nape of your neck. You can’t quite believe it when he yanks you backwards and eases you onto the floor with perfect control that stops you from slamming your head back. It would have been quite impressive if only your heart didn’t feel like it was going to slam right through your ribcage and, mewling a desperate, frazzled noise, you make a last ditch effort to twist away. But he just holds you in place, keeping you pinned by the neck, while he bullies your thighs apart with the other hand.

A faltering, highly embarrassing sound bursts out of you when the damp rag presses firm against your cunt at last. He pauses there a moment to squeeze at you through the cloth, almost idly grinding his palm down and making you twitch, before finally dragging it further down to run along the slit in your body. Left wheezing in the aftermath, you just lay there and try to wrap your head around this confusing turn of events. You couldn’t make sense of it. Although you’d expected it on some level, wasn’t this still a little … strange?

The way he cleans you is almost so formal it seems to border on ritualistic. Like he was performing some kind of ceremony or rite. The horrifying thought that perhaps he was preparing you for sacrifice crosses your mind and you can’t quite stop from cowering when he pushes up to kneel on his knees beside you. But, to your squawking surprise, all he does is grab hold of your ankle again and uses it to pull you over onto your stomach like you were little more than an uncooperative toddler.

“H - hey! I’m not a child you know!”

“A great relief, I assure you.”

Flushing red hot, you force yourself to grow still and just lay there while he wipes across your back and arms, your sides, running down to your ass and then lower still to get the backs of your legs. It was an altogether humiliating experience and not one you’d like to repeat any time soon, but you couldn’t deny you felt nice and fresh by the time he finally finishes up a small eternity later. Squeaky clean, even. It’s a great improvement from your earlier state, at least, and you don’t protest when he hooks a hand under your arm to help you sit back up.

Deeply ruffled, you try to reorient yourself while he moves to dispose of the used water somewhere at the back of the tent. You once again consider making a run for it but … oh, it would be another matter entirely if they hadn’t blindfolded you! That was the only thing stopping you from trying. The very real possibility you’d pick the wrong direction and just end up wandering deeper into the desert without even realizing your mistake until it was much too late keeps you firmly rooted to the spot and certainly not because of the dull thrum in your cunt. Nope. Definitely not.

Aziz comes close again, snapping you out of your stunned trance, and you glance up as he kneels in front of you to warily eye the petite bone carved container in his hand. It was shaped like a flower, and something about it makes every hair on your body slowly stand on end.

“What is that?”

“A gift, for the little adventurer from Mondstadt.” He says, giving you (what you think has to be) a sly smile. “Are you afraid of oils and creams as much as you are of me?”

Your brow draws in uncertainty but you don’t get a chance to pick apart what he’s saying to find the meaning in it. Taking up the wiry bristled brush in his other hand, he unscrews the lid from the trinket and dabs the tip into whatever was inside. For a split second you think he’s going to put makeup on you for some inexplicable reason but then — the now smoothed brush looks wet when he reaches it out towards you, and you reel back with a gasp. He remains undaunted though, and you screw your eyes shut with a soft whimper.

Startled confusion marches through your mind when he just presses the brush into the side of your neck though, and your mouth immediately pops open at how sticky and cool it is. Before you can yelp about the sensation, he drags a harsh line down across the column of your throat, making you shudder so hard you think you’re going to collapse. But then the sweet, cloying scent of myrrh and lavender mixed together floods your nostrils and you snap your head back up in disbelief. Perfume?

“You look surprised,” He murmurs, reaching for the other side of your neck to draw another stilted line over your pulse. “Do you know what this is?”

You shift, more than just a little uncertain and ill at ease now. “I … I don’t think I understand.”

With a quiet hum, he dips the brush into the mysterious substance again. “You will. Give it time, and you’ll soon come to understand everything.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what to make of that ambiguous statement.

Struggling to maintain your calm, you watch his hand stretch out for you again but this time it arims towards your chest. You think he’s going to swipe that goopy liquid over the swell of your breasts but, much to your jolting surprise, he drags it straight down over your pert nipple instead. Stomach roiling at the sensation, you make another blithe attempt to lean away from it but just like every other time he follows you easily enough and flicks that bristled tip over the stiffened bud again. Your breath hitches when it almost immediately starts to grow warm and tingly, shooting a disbelieving look down at yourself even as he reaches to do the same to the other.

“W - what is that — ahhn!”

“Relax. You’ll feel good in a moment.”

Somehow you didn’t believe that at all, and you start to tremble uncontrollably there on the floor. But it soon occurs to you that it’s not just nerves making you shake like a leaf. Your tits grow sensitive and flushed against the wafting air, curling to fine, tight points on your chest as the liquid quickly cools. It makes your blood pound harder, your breath come faster, and you can’t help but squirm at the almost painful knot that curls low in your gut.

Dizzy now, you issue a quiet whimper into the still tent when you sway in a deeply intoxicated manner. “Dear, Archons - -“

You cut off with a startled yelp when he pushes you down again but you no longer have the presence of mind to fight it. Laying there twitching, you tip your chin to dazedly watch that massive hand curl around the meat of your inner thigh and pull your legs apart. Suddenly your nudity seems so stark and arousing it makes you gasp, eyes widening when you realize you’re getting wet. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Your cunt was flooding and you wail an incomprehensible protest when he leans over you to bring the brush towards your defenseless slit.

“Little adventurer,” Aziz croons, keeping your legs spread under his palm as he teases the tip of the brush over your lips. “You should have stayed in Mondstadt where they don’t have such big men and potent aphrodisiacs to turn your body against you.”

Sucking in a harsh, rasping breath, you weakly fling your opposite leg up as if to shove at him but you miss by a wide mile and it just smacks back down to the floor, completely useless. It was like you’d been robbed of your motor skills and mental faculties in equal measure. It was hard just to think straight.

“W — why?”

Chuckling, he drags his hand down off your thigh to press into the meat of your labia and spread them, fully exposing your clit to the air. “I had fun playing with you earlier even if your little sword was no match for my ax. You still put up a good fight so of course I’d want to keep playing.” The soft haired brush slowly presses into the pulsing cluster of nerves and you go ramrod stiff, mouth falling open as if to scream but nothing comes out. All you can do is lay there, violently twitching, while he sedately drags it up and down, and side to side to draw even more sticky slick out of your body. “Unfortunately you are a very small adventurer and I am much too big for you to take easily. This will help you adjust to my size and even make it less painful too. You should be happy I’m showing you such kindness.”

Your head positively swims at the explanation, neck lolling bonelessly on the floor of the tent while you desperately try to sort through it all and cling to your cognizance at the same time. It’s no use though. The effects of the drug sweep you up much too quickly and pull you under. You feel like you're drowning in it, your pussy thrumming and squeezing around nothing even when he finally pulls away from your throbbing clit some time later.

There’s nothing at all you can do, not even protest, when he finds his feet and then leans down to haul you up against him. Clutched to his chest, you hang there in a lifeless, moaning heap while he walks to the opposite side of the tent where he deposits you onto a waiting bed of pillows that gently cradle your body when he sets you down. Paying no mind to your needy, gasping moans, Aziz leaves you there and retreats back to the clay pot you’d seen him fetch water from earlier to clean you with. On a distant, hazy level, you realize he’s going to wash himself next and you know you should probably be thankful for that. Know you should try to take this moment to escape even if it meant running buck naked out into the desert beyond his tent.

But you just can’t bring yourself to do anything except writhe and twist on top of the mountain of pillows, blithely trying to squeeze your thighs together and rub out the ache between them without the use of your hands. It’s no good at all. Just utterly hopeless when your body was pulsing so hot and so fiercely your limbs didn’t want to cooperate.

Idly, you think to try straddling one of the pillows so you can grind your cunt against it.

Weakly, you roll over and attempt to wriggle yourself on top of one — any of them, it didn’t matter, any would do when your need was so great — but you can’t quite seem to manage. All it does is drag your stiff nipples over the fabric and the stitching, and you issue a low, faltering groan when you realize it’s just making it worse. It was hard to breathe. You felt like you were going insane with the need to be stuffed and filled, and stretched and pounded into unconsciousness.

You’re so caught up in your suffering you almost don’t notice when Aziz finally returns to your side. You feel the pillows shift under you with the addition of his weight and you try to blink away the stupor at the same time that you abruptly realize you’re drooling. Grunting in surprise at suddenly finding that you were in such a state, you lift your head with an owlish blink.

The effects of the aphrodisiac were starting to lessen, receding at least enough to clear your head by a small margin …

Before you can celebrate, you feel his hands descend upon your bound wrists and the sensation of those calloused fingers on your skin punches an abrupt groan out of you. Okay, maybe the effects weren’t fading so much as your body was simply adjusting to the sudden, potent influx of endorphins but at least you could formulate a semi coherent thought now.

You cling to that small silver lining with every fiber of your shuddering being as he gets the rope untied, freeing your arms at long last, and then rolls you over. The room spins for a brief moment but when your eyes focus and you manage to look down they nearly pop right out of your skull. Not only was he completely nude, so massive and thick with muscle it startles a tiny squeak out of you, but he was also rock hard. And much, much bigger than you could have even imagined.

Somehow the fear of having that huge cock forced into your body seems to chase away a bit more of the muddled daze hanging over your head, and you bring your hands up in an awkward, uncoordinated rush to push at him. But when you jerk your attention up at his face, you stop dead in your tracks.

His mask was gone.

Aziz’s eyes were sharp and narrowly shaped to compliment the lean structure of his face, and his eyes … you suddenly forget how to breathe. You’d never seen irises so startlingly amethyst they looked like sparkling jewels.

He watches your reaction carefully, the intensity of that bejeweled gaze boring into you even as he crawls over top of you to settle between your legs. The demanding nudge of his rigid cock startles you back to reality, and you suck in such a frantic gasp of air it claws on the way down.

“No, wait - -“

His hand grabs under your chin and forces your head back so he can seal his mouth over yours and cut you off. You go ramrod stiff underneath him, eyes wide and wild even as you lift shuddering hands to weakly press into his chest. Archons, he was huge. The muscle bulges under your palms and tenses, flexing when he shifts against you to line himself up, and the full weight of what’s happening slams into you all at once.

Visciously, you tear your mouth from his with a warbling, intoxicated shriek. “Please, I can’t take it! It won’t fit!”

He issues a deep, rumbling chuckle and runs those thick, rough worn fingers across your flushed cheek to make you tremble anew. “You can. Do not fear it, little adventurer. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” Pausing, he teases your entrance with the blunt head, making you wheeze at the feel of him so heavy and thick against delicate lips. You reel underneath him and try not to hyperventilate, but he just keeps you pinned and mostly immobile under his sturdy frame. Finally, at length, he says, “Shall I show you how far into you I’m going to reach and give you something to truly be afraid of?”

“Wha - -“

Jostling you when he pulls back, Aziz pushes up to put some space between your pelvis and his, and you almost sigh in relief when his cock retreats from your entrance. But then something fleshy and thick slaps down on your lower belly, effectively robbing you of the ability to breathe, and you slowly glance down at yourself in fast mounting horror. His cock stretches across your stomach, leaving a sticky trail of precum in its wake when he nudges his hips closer to line the base up with your cunt and settle into place.

It feels like the earth itself is opening up under you to swallow you whole. He’s almost long enough to touch your bellybutton, and that was to say absolutely nothing of his girth. His size makes you look small and incredibly petite in comparison, so much slighter than him in every way that you feel more certain than ever that it’s not going to fit. There was no way it would.

“Right here,” He intones, squeezing at the soft pouch around your middle and digging his thumb in for emphasis. “This is how much of you I am going to take for myself. Are you ready for me?”

A half strangled sob bursts out of your mouth. “No, no, no, no —“

Ignoring your mouse squeak protests, Aziz repositions himself at your entrance and slowly leans into you, sinking into the tight heat of your body one staggered inch of him at a time. You go still as a statue at the oppressive, suffocating sensation, your hands blindly flying up to brace against his broad barrel chest, but you can’t even find the wherewithal to cry out. All you can focus on is the gradual stretch of your body, the way he forces your cunt to spread and make room for him under that stilted pressure and … much to your gaping shock it doesn’t hurt half as bad as you’d expected it to. There was still a pinch of discomfort, your body unaccustomed to taking something so large, but the aphrodisiac seems to have served its purpose.

Not only were you soaked and pliant with arousal, but your guts were so soft now that he only needed to exert a small amount of pressure to ease further into you. There is no straining resistance, no tearing, no painful force necessary to claim your much smaller body for his own. It was staggering to realize how little struggle your cunt actually offers up and you stare at the spot between you two with nothing short of dumbfounded fascination.

Bit by bit, his length disappears inside you — a quarter, a half, two thirds and then … he’s seated in you straight down to the hilt, Aziz loosing a deep, hissing groan when his pelvis finally presses flush to yours. Whimpering, you spasm on his cock, disoriented and a little too shell shocked to do much of anything else. You’d never felt so full before. So stretched right to the limit and the total lack of pain sends your reeling mind spinning in an endless loop, just trying to grasp what was even happening. You never would have thought it was possible if you hadn’t seen it with your own two eyes.

“Watch, little adventurer,” He murmurs, drawing a piece of you out of your stupor when he bends close to put his forehead against yours, that loose braid swaying forward to tickle your temple. “Watch how I take you and how your body welcomes me in. You are mine now, and this is the proof.”

Meaningfully, he drags his amethyst gaze lower and, quaking wildly underneath him, you do the same, following his line of sight to look at where you’re connected. The muscles in his stomach flex, abdominals visibly tensing as he ever so slowly draws his hips back to drag against your inner sleeve. You very nearly go cross eyed at the sensation, so deep and unexpectedly pleasurable it almost sends you shuddering right over the edge, but you force yourself to keep watching. To watch how he pauses at the halfway point, his muscular waist swiveling forward to push back in, in, in, further and further until — the spot just below your bellybutton bulges up at the same time his pelvis meets yours again, and your mouth drops open in disbelief.

He really was reaching that far into you.

And you really had taken all of him.

Wildly clawing at him for something to cling to, you let out a series of frantic, bleating sounds when he slowly starts to angle back again, watching that bulge in your tummy recede and disappear with the retreat of his cock only to come pushing right back in a moment later. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the spot on your lower belly where he keeps pushing up under the skin at an increasingly quicker pace, repeatedly punching the same spot into a soft, rounded bulge. A low ache starts to build deep in your body and somewhere in the back of your cotton stuffed mind you find the wherewithal to realize how sore you were going to be after this. The aphrodisiac would wear off eventually and you would be left in the aftermath to deal with the aching stretch, the throbbing reminder of how he’d felt moving inside of you and the lingering effects of getting pounded by something so big it felt like it was actively rearranging your guts.

This was in no way what you’d signed up for when you took on this commission, nor is it why you left Mondstadt.

It’s at that moment, when he’s working his hips hard and fast enough that a steady plap, plap, plap seems to dominate the space inside the tent that you realize you really did miss it. You missed Mondstadt and you wanted to go home. Soon. Immediately after he let you go.

He would let you go … wouldn’t he?

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #daythunder eremite #daythunder x reader #self insert bullshit

406 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — sentimental sewing + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, sfw, gn!reader and another domestic katsuki thought for you, he’s good at sewing hehe <3!

being an only child meant that bakugou picked up a lot of random little habits and hobbies to fill up his time — especially when he felt alone. the kids at school weren’t really his friends, they only liked him for his quirk, that he was strong, talented. in truth, katsuki preferred his loneliness compared to faux company of others.

instead of playing out in the sunshine, katsuki would sit by his mother’s feet when she worked from home— piecing together and designing gowns or three piece suits or ambiguous tricks to be worn by famous pro heroes to galas and charity events— sometimes, just because they wanted something nice to wear. mitsuki was a highly sought after designer and seamstress, and katsuki picked up on a lot of her skills just from watching— observing, strategising.

“do you want to try, katsuki?” the elder bakugou had asked him one evening, her hand in his soft blonde hair as she’d passed him his own set of needles and a patch of spare fabric for him to work on. he was much too young to help her with a commissioned gown. “watch yer ma carefully, okay, my love? then you can try again on your own.”

no one would have ever guessed that katsuki bakugou was good at sewing or stitching.

over the years he would patch up his own hero costume after training or a gnarly run in with villains— katsuki was sentimental, he blew up a lot of his own shit but his hero costume was somewhat important to him. he didn’t want it to be replaced. he’d used those skills to stitch himself up when first aid was too hard to get to on covert missions— nothing but a leather belt between his pointed teeth and a needle sterilised with alcohol. mitsuki’s skills had saved his life a few times, he’d be forever grateful to the hag for all of that.

being able to use a needle and thread meant saving money on gifts— or at least that’s what katsuki called it. he’d spend ages embroidering little handkerchiefs or sewing patches onto items he knew his newer and better friends from UA would cherish. they all knew about the blonde’s secret talent, holding back their squeals as they squished him between them all whenever he mumbled.

“i didn’t make it, s’just a stupid customised gift. now get off’a me b’fore i blow your head off!”

but deep down inside, bakugou was pleased to know he could make something of sentimental value for the people he loved— even if it was small, it was thoughtful. he liked that.

“katsuki,” you warble, eyes brimming with tears when you come to bed one night— weakly holding up a scarf he’d gotten you to soothe the chill after one of your first and earlier dates. “‘m sorry!”

you and bakugou had been together for years, finding yourself falling fast and hard after he wound up in your care at the hospital— on the one time his handy little stitches had gotten a wound infected. “whas the matter with you, sweetheart?” he grunts, taking off his glasses and throwing his night time read aside. “you cryin’?”

“n-no…um, yeah? it’s kinda stupid? i wore the scarf you gave me today and i got caught on a stupid tree branch walking home and—?” you hiccup, seconds away from breaking down as you hold the piece of fabric out to your boyfriend. “there’s a hole in it? i swear i didn’t mean for it to happen— i just tried tugging it free and it ripped and—“ sniffling, a pathetic pout sits on your lips. “you got this for me ‘nd i’ve ruined it, i’m sorry kats.”

sentimental. you’re sentimental over a cheap and shitty scarf that bakugou had gotten you on a whim— so that he had an excuse to spend more time with you after your initial date had ended all those years ago. “give it here, I’ll fix it.” he grunts, hiding the flush on his cheeks before he takes the scarf from you and pokes a finger through the hole. “stop cryin’ and grab the sewing kit ma left in the study.”

nodding your head furiously, you do as you’re told with a watery smile and perch yourself on the edge of the bed next to your brooding boyfriend while he patches up your silly scarf with some old fabric and a few stitches. “i didn’t know you could sew, kats.” you breathe happily, clutching the material to your chest after inspecting the cute little embroidered heart katsuki had done all nicely for you. “it’s perfect, thank you.”

“all i did was patch it up sweetheart,” bakugou coos, leaning over your shoulder to brush a half hearted and sleepy kiss over your cheek. “ma taught me, s’how i fixed myself up all botched ‘n badly ‘n ended up in your emergency room, don’t you remember?” he loves the way you squeeze him closer, having sniffed your scarf and realised that it smells like your favourite thing. your favourite person. him.

you’re sentimental, not just with materialistic things, but with your partner. your lover, everything about him is cherished by you.

“i just thought you’d been an idiot, didn’t know you were this talented katsuki,” you say wistfully, allowing the blonde to pull you back into his arms.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugou scenarios #bakugou imagine #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

2K notes · View notes

tamelee · 3 months

Note

pls bottom naruto is disgusting stop drawing this ooc cringe

Eh? And it hadn't even been a full day.

Anyway, do you know what this means?:

It means… that I don’t give a damn about your whiny gibberish about this top/bottom bullshit, because it sounds incredibly silly. (And wrong because I draw both?)

It’s fine to have a preference, good for you (I have one too!), but if all you care about between a character-dynamic is the single notion which establishes a rule within a fandom that demands only this particular dick in only that particular booty and nothing else, while dividing yourselves between "us and them" while seeing the people who like the same exact characters as your "enemy" and treating them as such— well,

I have nothing to say to you, I couldn’t care less what you think about me and I don’t know you.

But for the sake of other creators who are often a target also, some which I know quit because of this… there is a little something I'd like to say about these servers:

You don’t think I (we) know what is said in there and by who? 👀 That your rules of "what is said on here stays here" with a bunch of people online that you don't know, is actually respected? Why do you think I never join any. And bet your ass that I'm not the only one. This constant fighting between NS/SN is such an embarrassment for this fandom, seriously. I hope you realize that.

Because, instead of encouraging a (new) creator to share something about the characters you claim to love (for fucking free) you go off chastise them for not “doing it right”/“your way”, pretending it's some unspoken commission no one knew of or was paid for. Instead of being happy there’s still so much creative contribution for characters from a story that ended years ago, you go complain under fanfics and dishearten writers, often grinning away with your little server-“friends” and make fun of work someone poured their heart in. Or, you huff, puff and breathe fire as you make plans to cancel them out of pure bitterness, to the point (especially new) creators are too scared and dispirited to ever share anything again. It's easy to do anonymously, aye? And if you think that doesn’t affect their lives and sends them right back into a crestfallen pit of dark hell because it prevents them to do/share the single thing in life that gave them a bit of joy, then...

Congratulations; you’re a heartless bastard.

And you, as a fan, did yourself dirty too.

Do you know how many people don’t want to share anything at all for this fandom because you people leave comments, tags, asks, tweets constantly complaining about an incorrect portrayal of the (in your opinion) only acceptable dynamic, like a bunch a brats? Do you? Because I’ve talked to quite a few of these discouraged creators, they have to hope for the best and pray they’re spared from your scrutiny. I receive it from both sides every now and then.

Again, congratulations: you’re the reason there’s less chance of you getting what you want in the first place.

Do you... really not realize?

The more you squabble with "your enemy" (lol) the more it affects the "us" you care about while the rest of us just bask in the glory that is SNS/NSN and couldn't care less about what you think/have to say. So, keep everyone else out of it and go mope elsewhere.

But, between you and me? There are better ways to share what you think is right. Make something yourself, because what's stopping you?

You’re perfectly capable, it doesn’t have to be art or a fic, maybe there’s just something in the story that you really enjoyed— write about it. Make a meta. Post the panel, show the moment that determined your undying love for this single dynamic and why— whatever. Because, wouldn't it be nice having someone encourage you to create something you like? 😬 Especially because you and your server feel so strongly about it? And then you don't have to depend on others either?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Well?

Hm!?

Try it, ffs.

#asktamelee #fandom talk

146 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 8 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/writingquestionsanswered/730814386289131520/defining-terminology-via-pov?source=share

I saw this post and it inspired me to ask a similar question I was dealing with. Is it weird for the narrator to explain time skips or off screen events? They always feel so unnatural when I write them. Ive seen it done, but I can't judge the best way to do it.

Narrator Explaining Time Skips and Off-Screen Events

Nope, it's not weird, no matter who your narrator is. Your narrator is there to tell the story to your reader. If there is no way to show something through action or explain it through dialogue, the only other alternative is to have the narrator explain it.

With time skips, that's almost always going to be the narrator's job rather than something shown via action or told via dialogue, simply because action isn't often the best way to show time passing (though it can certainly work in some cases), and dialogue doesn't usually come right at the beginning of a scene (though it can sometimes.) The point being, although you certainly can show time passing with action or explain it through dialogue, a lot of the time it's just explained in exposition, aka narration. I talk about that in these posts: Guide: How to Skip Time in Your Story, Subtle Scene Transitions, and Skipping Broad Gaps in Time without Timestamp.

With off-screen events, you really have your pick between exposition, action (yes... action... I'll get to that in a second), and dialogue. It just depends on what works best for the scene/story. So, for example, let's say a secondary character had to run an errand for the protagonist, and what they find out from that errand is important, but showing the actual errand playing out isn't important. So, it happens off-screen. You can have the narrator explain it:

While Todd and Amy started pulling down the interior walls, Anna went to city hall to find out next steps for permitting. After waiting all afternoon to speak with someone and being told to come back the following day, she returned to the house feeling defeated but bearing mochas from their favorite coffee shop.

Alternatively, you could use dialogue to show this off-screen moment:

"How did it go?" Todd said, dropping his sledgehammer when he turned and found a defeated-looking Anna, who at least came bearing coffee.

"Not great," she said, handing him and Amy a mocha from their favorite coffee shop. "I was at city hall all day waiting to talk to someone in permitting, and after I finally got to speak with someone, they told me to come back tomorrow."

Amy frowned. "Yikes."

If the off-screen event happened before the story begins, or happened off-screen but was particularly important or memorable for the character who experienced it, you could also potentially use deep memory recall, a flashback, or a dream to show it happening. This wouldn't really be a great choice for Amy's long wait at the permitting office, but for the sake of the example, if it was worthy, it might look something like this.

Amy woke with a start, drenched in sweat, her nightmare addled brain telling her she was still inside the permitting office. The nightmare had been so real, she could still smell the stale coffee that permeated the small room--could still hear the quiet sizzle of the mildly flickering fluorescent lighting. She'd been suck waiting to speak with someone all afternoon, and they'd told her to come back tomorrow. Now she felt like she'd been through the ordeal twice in one day. She wasn't sure she could stomach going back again in the morning. She would have to make Todd go in her place.

I hope that helps! :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

163 notes · View notes

uplatterme · 2 years

Text

Oh, Dear Detective! II

cw: heizou x reader, gn!reader, fatui!reader, oooo first kiss how scandalous 👀

a/n: i lowkey feel like rewriting the first one now since i made it as a one-off and u can see how much effort i put into this one than the other 💀 also, ill see how this one does and see if i should make it into a series!

Part I | Commissions

tags: @forgotten-blues, @elaineiris, @zanpastries

Your sudden absence from Inazuma didn’t slip out of Heizou’s mind. The last time he saw you was a week ago, which was quite concerning as you always somehow managed to find wherever he is at all times. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reciprocate that despite him being a professional with these sort of things.

It was as if you never existed to begin with, if not for the hair tie that you left him from before. He wondered if he did something wrong but everything seemed normal that day. You weren’t acting suspicious at all, nor did you have any reason for leaving him without a word.

So what was our dear detective’s decision?

“Kidnapped. I think (Name)’s been kidnapped.”

“What?! How could that be?!” Paimon exclaimed.

“It’s only a theory for now. I’ve got no one else to ask, which is why I’m turning to you, Traveler.” He explained, it was supposed to be expected. Heizou has made enemies by being a detective. It would only make sense that someone had taken you because of him.

Staring at the hair tie on his wrist, he planted a soft kiss and promised that no matter what, he would find you and make whoever did this pay.

“Still as heartless as ever, (Name).” Pantalone stated.

“It was a shame, but it’s what I do best. Besides, I’d never get with someone who’s working under the murderer of Rosalyne.” You walked right next to him, getting a cigarette out from your pockets. Something to keep you warm against Snezhnaya’s freezing temperature.

Heizou would always keep you warm.

“Scaramouche is heading back to Liyue. I don’t know why but that’s what I’ve gathered.” The mere mention of Liyue had a certain ginger look over to you but you paid no mind.

Pulcinella joined your conversation as the others mourn the tragic death that’s once again caused by a so-called God. “Work is off for now, (Name). How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Inazuma.” He clarified.

“It is very different compared to here but I did enjoy the trip. The food was quite good and–” You quickly stop yourself almost making the mistake of having his name slip out of your mouth.

Mistake?

How would that be a mistake? It didn’t matter to you anymore, your job was done. This was for the Tsaritsa, for Rosalyne, and for everyone here who’s suffered due to an archon’s wrongdoing.

“I don’t think I could ever live in that country.”

“Hmmm… So, (Name) really didn’t say anything?” Paimon questioned, trailing behind the two.

“No, they always say something if they’re going anywhere but it’s been a week.”

Aether stopped in his tracks, an idea coming to him. “Commission.”

“I would like the others to help out. However, they’re not particularly fond of the commission.” He remembered having to tug you away, afraid that you’d start a fight with the General. It was funny reminiscing about it now but he was in panic at the time.

It was incredible in itself actually. You spend so much time with him but he barely knows where to start. “(Name)’s a great detective too. I’m sure if they got taken then they would’ve left something.”

“Excuse me?” Heizou uttered back to Aether.

Paimon backed away, sensing the unnerving tension.

The blonde sighed, “I’m not saying that (Name) left on their own. There might be clues that we’ve overlooked.”

He felt insulted. Both with the fact that he was distrusting you and his detective skills. Him? Miss a clue? He could never.

“Right! Maybe they just went fishing is all!” Paimon laughed awkwardly, trying to make a space between them.

Days passed but everything remained the same and Heizou laid down on his futon restless. He can still feel your hands pinning his wrists down. His partner went out of nowhere and all the Commission could do was put missing posters across the country. How would that help at all? He finally understood why you always felt annoyed. The detective’s frustration flowed through his veins.

All he had of you was that stupid hair tie.

It wasn’t blackmail. If it was, then he’d be contacted by now. What’s the use of his skills if he can’t even find you? What’s the use if you’re not there every time to praise him and remind him when he’s overworking himself?

He missed you.

His thoughts rendered back to the first time you worked together. You were like a dog who’s ready to bite off his head and he’s seen a taroumaru on the loose once without dinner.

“I’m Heizou, it’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

“I know.”

He introduced himself in hopes that he’d get a handshake in return but you didn’t even say your name at all. He had to find that out himself.

Well, he’s dealt with much ruder clients. He would be able to handle you.

“Can you stop that? It’s distracting.” You have been relentlessly tapping your shoe on the ground and staring at the board with no further progress on the investigation.

“You act like you’ve been doing anything.” You said, standing from your chair and looking directly in his eyes.

He scoffed. “And you have? I’ve done everything, from interviewing and getting our client’s alibi.”

“Yet, you can’t still solve it…” His patience continued to thin, you were supposed to be working together, not whatever this was?

“Someone’s said that I’m not easy to get along with but I’ve never thought anyone else could top that.”

You sighed, you wanted to get home as soon as possible. Not whatever this was, you just needed to finish your mission then you’d sail away and never come back.

“Why don’t you try looking at it another way, Mr. Detective?”

“Like what?–”

He stumbled off his chair, eyes widened full of surprise. He would’ve never seen this once coming at all.

A deep kiss from you as you held his chin.

Heizou was stunned, unable to find the right words to say next.

He didn’t need a mirror to see how red he was. “(N-Name)! I don’t see how this is helping!”

You threw him a folder to which he confusedly looked at. “I’ve read this one.”

“No, you haven’t. I got this one from the client’s twin.”

With scrunched up eyebrows, he read the file. He never knew that there was another person involved. Yet, here you were presenting evidence out of thin air.

“How?”

“Sometimes, clues are buried deep in snow.”

He laughed at your answer. “That’s a weird way of phrasing it but alright.”

“Let’s catch this scum.”

“Sometimes, clues are buried deep in snow.” He repeated to himself and looked once more at the hair tie you gave him.

He’d never seen this design before, nor the cloth it was made from. Running as quick as he can to his book shelf, he searched until he finally found it.

Snow. This tie.

It was as if the pieces were there but he had no way of putting it together.

Snezhnaya. The fatui.

Shit.

“Why are you involved with the fatui, (Name)?”

“(Name).”

“Sir Pierro.” You bowed your head from his sudden call. You’ve never actually spoken before with him as you worked under Signora.

He nodded, allowing you to raise your head. Your heartbeat beating fast as you await the rest of his words.

“It’s a shame of what happened. I know how close the two of you were.”

“Yes, she was like family.” You answered, still not knowing where this was about to go.

“That being said…”

“How would you like to be a candidate as a member of the Harbingers?”

#sub genshin impact #sub genshin #dom reader #dom!reader #plattered writings #genshin impact smut #heizou #heizou x reader #sub heizou #sub!heizou #genshin x reader #genshin impact

2K notes · View notes

cer-rata · 11 days

Text

I did it, I finished the fic.

Cover by the amazing @nicodrawings

It's 109k and fully complete, welcome to my oc's first cursed, sappy adventure.

"Heart of Gotham"

Fandom: Detective Comics

Rating: T

Summary:

Conrad Bishop thinks he knows who he is: A nerd, a goof, a coward. But heartbreak comes along to destroy that version of him. As he shatters, an alien ring decides that the depth of his pain has the potential to forge him into a potent Star Sapphire. While grief may be a devastatingly powerful form of love, can he survive on it alone? Maybe not. But it’s what he thinks deserves.

Everyone thinks they know who Damian Wayne is: A prince, a pariah, a hero. The truth is worse. No one thinks he’s easy to love, and he agrees. It’s fine. He doesn’t need it, he’s got duty and a body to spend in service of it until there’s nothing left to hate. But sometimes? Sometimes he wonders if that’s all he can be.

By chance they share the same science class, and--for better or worse--that's all it takes to send them on a path that neither of them would have ever dared to consider.

Love conquers all.

...Maybe

Excerpt:

Damian started changing out of his uniform and Conrad awkwardly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” Damian grunted as he unclasped and slid his tunic off.

“Well, you used the ring to save me, right? But you know...the whole bit is that if you want to heal someone you have to…uh. You'd…you'd have to love--"

“Philia.” Damian cut in quickly.

“Did…did you--was that a slur?”

“…No! Philia is the Greek concept of love between friends. That’s what the ring was pulling from.” It was mostly true. It was mostly philia. Mostly.

Conrad considered that for a moment, then beamed. “Oh. Oh! So you admit it? You think we’re friends?”

Damian finished pulling a hoodie on and turned to squint at him. “How are you this stupid.”

“Oh my god you do!”

“If you’re like this for the entire ride back, there is a high likelihood that I will change my--oh come on!” Damian complained fruitlessly as he had to endure yet another hug. “I should have let you bleed out.” He hissed, and Conrad just laughed.

“I love you too, buddy.”

A tip of the hat:

Before I get into anything else, again the cover and reference sheet were done by the amazing @nicodrawings. She's terrific, professional, easy to work with (and I am ANNOYING), and I think the quality speaks for itself. Her art is tremendous and her covers are maybe the highest quality I've seen from an indie artist.

And those colors.

Her commissions are open right now and she's making a fan comic that looks so cool, and she does all this other cool stuff. Check her out, okay?

Concepts, Themes, and Character Focus

The core questions I wanted to ask were:

"Can two broken people ever be good for each other?"

"Can you actually move past the pain of loss?"

"How do you love someone?"

I love Lantern lore, and Star Sapphires specifically. Maybe too much

I was fascinated by a Corps that represented love but was usually fueled by despair and anguish instead, and wielded one of the harder to control colors of the Emotional Spectrum. So I decided to create one from scratch and place them in Earth's most notorious tragedy factory: Gotham City.

Conrad is shamelessly emotional and ruled by his affections, and was like that even before the ring. The only son of a pair of Haitian immigrants, Conrad grew up feeling very loved, and even his parents terrible handling of his attempt to come out wasn't enough to shake that. But his parents never really pushed him, and his easy-going nature meant he didn't develop a lot of self determination. Then he suffers an incredibly traumatizing loss, and suddenly his carefully laid carpet of normalcy and avoidance is torn up to reveal some structural problems underneath.

Damian is emotional and ruled by his affections, and is a little ashamed of it. He also felt loved when he was growing up, but unlike Conrad, much of the love he received was in the form of praise for his success, which had the unfortunate effect of making him seek approval in ways that were often unhelpful, most often to himself. He's tried so hard, and done so much work to be a better person, and he's even accumulated a group of peers who adore him. But he's still lonely, has trouble accepting his own progress, and the guilt he carries making new connections difficult.

Everyone is a couple of years older than they are in canon, which I did to make the content more appropriate, and also so I could play with the ambiguity of those three undocumented years, and hand wave away some of the more...uncharitable parts of canon without having to rewrite everything. This is Damian still on his early Rebirth character track, before the many resets to his character development. He's still harsh and somewhat antisocial, but he's also older, more mellow, and has worked through a couple of things. He's settled enough to allow for some honest introspection.

I didn't initially plan for this to be a love story, but their internal conflicts were complimentary and their deepest wishes slotted together so neatly that the direction felt natural. They cover many of each other's weaknesses and blind spots, while making some of their other hangups worse.

The romance isn't even the critical part really, it's just the way they end up expressing emotional intimacy. They are friends first, and that's what holds everything together. It's all about them showing up for each other in ways that are sometimes difficult, and the fact that they always will, regardless of whether they're in a relationship or not.

It's an awkward, intense, teen relationship, and it's not always a good thing for either of them--even before factoring in cosmic super weapons and secret identities.

Also, there are... a lot of cameos and odd side characters.

#dc comics #dc fic #damian wayne #dc oc #original characters #batfamily #green lantern comics #star sapphire #star sapphire oc #my fics #tkaa au #green lantern #batman #conrad bishop #heart of gotham

46 notes · View notes

negans-lucille-tblr · 1 year

Text

Go Easy | Sam Winchester Oneshot

Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to.

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

WC: ± 2.8K A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!

Sam Winchester Masterlist

“So, how did you two meet again?”

There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him.

“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine.

“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?”

“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her.

“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly.

The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?”

Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment.

“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him.

“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.”

Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them.

“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off.

“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches.

“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table.

“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand.

Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother.

“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard–”

“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts.

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.”

“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks.

“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.

“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?”

“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.”

“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!”

“Dean–”

“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.”

“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions.

“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”

Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.”

“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly.

“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.”

Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean.

Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this.

“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.

“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?”

“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.”

“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him.

“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time.

“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly.

“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated.

She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now.

“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him.

“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–”

“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…”

“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain.

“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again.

Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires.

“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores.

“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.”

“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before.

Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts.

“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance.

“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment.

“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this.

“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip.

“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes.

“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him.

“Something like this?” she checks.

“You don’t have to–”

“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips.

Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone.

“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment.

She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants.

“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?”

Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.”

Your POV

Holy fuck.

Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms.

“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.”

Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs.

“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation.

“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands.

“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally.

“Sir,” he adds for you.

“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.

You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs.

Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him.

“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.”

You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him.

His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking.

“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan.

“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded.

“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours.

“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner.

“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.”

“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.”

“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises.

He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to.

“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath.

Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.” And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.

#go easy #commission #sam winchester #sam x reader #dom!sam x sub!reader #smut #lemon #oneshot #angst #spn fanfic #jared padalecki #negans-lucille-tblr

399 notes · View notes

acourtofbooksandshadows · 6 months

Text

Not So Routine- Chapter 7

Summary: Nesta and Cassian come in to collect Nesta's custom piece and Y/N gets a little flustered in the process.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Nerves and lust.

Word count: 930

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

The days following went by quickly and routine. You woke up, ate breakfast, went to work, started and finished Nestas custom piece, went home and had dinner, read a book before crawling into bed. Mor had been busy with court duties so you didn’t see much of her. Before you knew it the day for Nesta to pick up her custom set came along. You had tossed and turned the night before. Then struggled to choke down breakfast, the nerves in your belly caused it to be sensitive. You paced back and forth through the store as your best friend sat at the counter trying to ease your worries.

“You just need to take a deep breath. I’ll be here the whole time. Plus I highly doubt they're as scary as you’re going on about. I’ve seen Cassian trip and fall in a puddle after a night at Rita’s before.” She tapped her fingers along the counter in an off key tune and you simply glared at her. The thought of Cassian falling face first into a puddle drunk off his ass did make you laugh however. She gave you a toothy grin in return, happy to see some of your worries ease. The moment was halted as the door opened. You both looked towards the door and there they stood in all their perfectly poised glory.

“Hello.” Your voice squeaked out and you cringed. Your friend slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her laugh and you glared at her. She had never seen you as nervous as you were now around someone. Once you cleared your throat you turned back to your mates and gave them a small smile. Cassian gave you one in return and Nesta relaxed the resting bitch face she normally wore which was as close to a smile you figured you’d get from her.

“Sorry about that, I had a tickle in my throat. I’m guessing you're here to pick up your set?” You started walking behind the counter to grab the box that you had set there. The red ribbon you’d wrapped around the black box swayed in the wind as you lifted it and set it down on the counter top. You realized as you looked at the box that you had unconsciously put together the red and black you had all been wearing the night of dinner.

“Also wanted to speak about that position you offered me.” They had both approached the counter quietly and you jumped at how close her voice was. You’d been surprised that Cassian was able to walk so softly with his hulking frame.

“Oh yes. So we were thinking.” You gestured towards the female next to you introducing her quickly, you had both discussed the position and had decided on what you would offer her together.

“A part time position, flexible around when you are free. You can help us with new designs and custom orders. Your sketches were breathtaking and we both agree it would be amazing to see more. Pay will be weekly as well as sixty/forty commissions on any items we put out based on your sketches.” Your thumb and pointer finger rubbed the material of the ribbon on the box between them as you laid the offer out in the open.

Cassian watched Nesta carefully, waiting to see what she would say. Her cold and calculated gaze narrowed on you before she nodded her head. A sigh slipped through your lips and your shoulders released some tension you hadn’t realized they were holding. Your friend beside you had a beaming smile on her face as she took in the scene before her.

“When would you like me to start?” You went to answer her but the words got caught in your throat as lust swept through the bond. You weren’t sure who it was coming from or why but it had your mind spinning. The skin of your chest, neck and face heated as the feeling washed over you again.

“Whenever you would like to, it is fine with us.” Your friend gave her a reassuring smile even though Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave yours. Cassian looked between the two of you and laid a hand on Nesta’s back. Nesta told you what day she could start and what time and your friend told her that worked perfectly.

But your eyes never left Nesta’s. Even though you were feeling completely weak, if you weren’t white knuckling the counter with one of your hands you were sure you’d be on your hands and knees crawling towards the female begging for her approval.

Cassian stepped up to the counter and carefully took the box from where it sat in front of you. The ribbon slipped between your fingers and that broke you out of your spell. You blinked rapidly, shaking your head aggressively trying to clear the dirty thoughts away. He sent you a wink as he took the box and you took in a large gulp of air.

Because how were you ever going to survive in this life with them as your mates. They didn’t say anything else as Cassian guided Nesta out the door. You were happy that they had already paid the first time they came in because you didn’t know if you could’ve handled them being around much longer. Your friend snickered at the scene she just witnessed and you tried to level her with an intimidating stare and she just laughed harder. You were just thankful that all the eventful experiences of the day had already passed.

A/N: I know that this part was shorter but I promise the next two parts are going to be longer. Thank you all for reading and as always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten @girlmadeofavocados

87 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

EMERGENCY COMMISIONS!! (revised 08/05/2023 • please read)

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

I truly truly hate to do this or ask for help because I don’t like having to ask anyone for anything but I would appreciate it if you guys read/boosted this but if not, feel free to ignore. I’m currently in the process of trying to find additional income, as well as reopening my business (a goal I’ve had to postpone for months since my move and graduation.) As of recently, I’ve had some very unexpected expenses come up as well as additional bills. So I’m opening up emergency fic commissions. The tip option is always open if you guys feel generous and I am working on current anonymous/milestone event requests still but these are for more specific requests. Full detailed fics and I am charging no more than $3-$5 for these and they will be finished within 48-72 hours because I still want to ensure that I am giving you all good quality work. Please PLEASE don’t feel obligated to do this and again, life is really hard on all of us right now and I am truly sorry to ask this of anyone but this is just until I am able to find some additional income and clear a few of these unexpected expenses. Very very temporary! Like I said, I write as a labor of love to you all and I would not ask something like this if I truly did not need it. I have a Ko-Fi as well as the tip jar that you can donate through if you feel compelled. Feel free to message me for details and I’ll be glad to explain. 💕 thank you guys

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

as of 08/05/2023, I’ve decided to close commissions until my current ones are posted and completed. I will make a follow up post updating when they will reopen. It has been brought to my attention that I have not been as transparent and forthcoming with my updating. The last thing I would want is for anyone to feel as though I had no intention of finishing their commissions. As I’ve stated before, this is my first time doing something of this caliber and I grossly underestimated the time and effort it would take into producing these fics. I never want to sacrifice the quality of my work for the sake of time, especially when they were so generous as to pay me for works that should generally be free. With that being said, I thank everyone who was so kind to donate and commission me. I so sincerely apologize for any inconvenience or distrust this any have caused. Please know that I am working diligently to get them done and I will be more than happy to refund anyone who feels as if this process has taken entirely too long and no longer wishes to wait. Going forward, I once again ask that you all donate what you feel my work is worth and pay AFTER work is completed so that there is no confusion on either side. Because of the over whelming amount of requests, I unfortunately do not have exact dates of when works will be finished but I ask that you please feel free to message me at any time with concerns. Also, understand that due to the length of my fics, I do feel it necessary to take breaks in between as to not experience burnout and lack of motivation. Again, I understand if this is not feasible for you if requesting and I will accommodate as best as possible but I feel that no one person’s request is more important than anyone else’s. I’ll message upon start and finish of works, but feel free to message to see real-time progress. Again, this was due to sheer mismanagement and miscommunication on my part and I cannot apologize enough. It was very irresponsible of me and I truly hope that you all will allow me the time and grace to rectify this.

#emergency commissions #fic commissions #boost please #cherry chats 🍒

325 notes · View notes

morri-draws · 24 days

Text

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 12

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,468

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Read on Ao3

You wake the next morning with the intention of working, as you told Gwaine you would, but as your mind wanders over breakfast, you devise an entirely different plan. It will still require time and some effort, but not a bit of sewing.

You grab your basket and head to the market, purchasing an array of foodstuffs: bread, cheese, fresh fruits, apple juice made at the local orchard, and from a small shopfront you hadn’t noticed before today, pies. Once your basket is filled with your purchases, you bring them back to your chambers, where you put the pies into a lidded pot and build a small fire in the grate to warm them up again. You gather plates, cups and cutlery from the cupboard and add them to the basket, as well as a chopping board and the now warmed-up pies, then cover everything over with a tea towel and head out.

You knock on Gwaine’s door once you arrive and are greeted by a smiling Merlin.

“She’s here!” He says cheerfully.

He ushers you inside and you place the basket down on the nearby table.

“(Y/N), I’ve been eagerly awaiting your visit,” Gwaine says from across the room, where he is sitting in bed, pillows behind his back propping him up.

You shoot him a smile before turning back to Merlin. “Could you help me with something, Merlin?”

“Of course,” He replies.

“Can you help me move this table over there,” You gesture toward Gwaine’s bed.

He nods and you each take an end of the table and lift it, carefully shifting it across the room and setting it down beside the bed. You head back to bring the chairs and Gwaine leans over the side of the bed, reaching for the basket.

“What’s all this about?”

You tuck the chair you were carrying under the table and swat Gwaine’s hand away playfully.

“Have patience,” You pull the basket towards you. “Would you care to join us, Merlin?”

You lift the edge of the tea towel, so only you and Merlin can see within. He leans forward to inspect the contents and grins.

“That is very tempting, but I think I’ll leave you two to enjoy that,” He heads for the door. “Bye Gwaine, (Y/N),”

He gives one last smile to you both before leaving the room.

“The suspense is killing me,” Gwaine says.

“Well,” You throw off the tea towel and begin laying out the plates, cups and cutlery. “I thought that since you’re not well enough for us to go out for another picnic,” You set down the chopping board, placing the bread and fruit on it. “That I would bring the picnic to you,”

You set out the cheese and uncork the bottle of apple juice, pouring some into each cup before finally placing a pie on each plate. Gwaine looks at the feast before him with wide eyes, then rests his gaze on you.

“You are truly angelic, you know that?”

You laugh. “Well, they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,”

“Not the only way,” He shakes his head and grins. “But it’s definitely one,”

You pick up your pie, lifting it up to your mouth. “The owner of the pie shop these are from said that his pies are the best in Camelot. Shall we try?”

He nods eagerly and picks up his own pie. You both take a bite at the same time, followed by a few seconds of silence, before Gwaine closes his eyes and sighs.

“The verdict?” You ask once you’ve swallowed your mouthful.

“I don’t have words,”

You both grin and continue eating the delicious pies until they’re finished, before picking at the other foods, trying different things, talking about the flavours and good places to go in the market. Gwaine speaks of funny times him and the other knights have had on patrol and at the tavern, and of some of his own misadventures before he came to Camelot.

He takes a swig of apple juice, frowning as he lowers the cup from his lips. “Hang on… you bought all of this from the market?”

“I did,” You reply.

“You paid for all this?”

“Yes, I’m not in the habit of not paying,” You smirk.

His face falls. “For our picnic, I got all the food from the palace kitchens. I didn’t need to pay for anything,”

“That’s alright, Gwaine, I wanted to do this,”

“But it’s hardly fair,”

“Well, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could get free food from the palace kitchens. You’re a knight of the round table and I’m just a dressmaker,”

“You’re not just any dressmaker,” Gwaine replies. “You clothe the king and queen,”

“True, but still, it just isn’t the same as being a knight. I don’t risk my life in service of the crown. The most injury I’ll ever have to deal with in my job is a prick in the finger,” You smile. “Anyway, please don’t fret. I chose to invest in this array of delights before us, and I am happy with my decision,”

“I just hope you didn’t spend money you might need for yourself,”

“I didn’t,” You assure him. “Since being employed here, I’ve never had to go hungry again. In fact, I have a bit more than I know what to do with,” You chuckle. “I have a roof over my head and do not pay rent. If I am unwell, I can see the physician at no cost. The only thing I need to worry about is food, and I’ve been able to buy things I couldn’t afford before, like fresh fruit and custard buns,” You grin.

“You’re happy here, then?” Gwaine asks.

“I am,” You smile, finishing off your apple juice. “Unfortunately, I really should get going,” You sigh, standing up. “I need to work on these harvest outfits if they’re to be ready in time for the feast,”

“I’ll help you pack up,” Gwaine stands as well.

“No! You don’t need to do that,” You gesture for him to sit.

“It’s quite alright, (Y/N). I can handle putting things into a basket,”

You do not protest further, allowing him to help you pack things away.

“You don’t want to keep some of the leftovers for your dinner?” You ask.

Gwaine grimaces. “My dinner’s brought up from the kitchens,”

“Ah, another of your knightly privileges. More for me then,” You smirk.

Once everything is packed back into the basket, Gwaine walks you to the door.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Today was… really nice,”

“You’re very welcome,” You smile.

“I don’t just mean the food either,” He grins. “I loved spending time with you today. Also,” He takes your free hand in his. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,”

“Ask away,”

“Would you… like to go to the harvest feast with me?”

“Go with you? As in…”

“As in I pick you up from you your quarters, we walk there arm in arm and arrive together, where everyone will remark what a handsome pair we are,” He grins. “Then we feast… there’ll be music and maybe dancing. It’ll be a merry time. So, what do you say?”

“That sounds wonderful, I’d love to go with you,” You beam.

“Excellent,” Gwaine clasps his hands excitedly. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your work,”

“I should say, I may not be able to visit tomorrow, since I need to catch up on my sewing, so don’t expect me,”

“Alright,” He sighs exaggeratedly. “You will be missed,”

With the harvest feast less than two weeks away, you focus your attention on completing the king and queen’s outfits. You spend the entire next day sewing, working from morning until last light, with the next two days being almost the same, apart from short visits with Gwaine.

After visiting him on the second day, you stop by the royal chambers to ask the queen if she’ll be available some time tomorrow to try on her finished gown. Excited to hear of its completion, she says she should have the mid-afternoon free, and that she’ll send word when she knows an exact time. Realising that you need to arrange to see the king as well, without spoiling the surprise for Gwen, you head to Merlin and Gaius’ chambers.

You knock on the door once you arrive and are greeted by Gaius, who informs you that Merlin is busy with his duties. You ask if you may leave a message and he gives you a piece of paper, a quill and ink, and you write a short note and leave it with him.

The next morning, you look over the garments, trimming away any loose threads that you missed. You put your scissors down when you hear a knock on your door and cross the room to answer it.

“Hello,” Merlin smiles. “The king and queen will see you at three o’clock,”

“Both of them?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it worked out. The secret will not be spoiled until the right time,” He assures you. “May I see what you’ve been working on?”

You show him inside, leading him to the worktable where the gown and doublet are laid out.

“Wow,” He leans over the garments, inspecting the details. “These are amazing. You know,” He looks up at you with a lopsided smile. “This will surely be the nicest thing Arthur’s ever worn,”

You arrive at the royal chambers, basket in hand, where Merlin answers your knock at the door. You step inside to find the king and queen sitting at the table. You exchange greetings, first sharing a sly glance with the king and Merlin, then looking to Gwen.

“Would you like to try on your gown now, my lady?”

“I would love to,” She stands, smiling brightly. “I have been so excited to see it,”

You glance at Merlin, who discreetly flicks his eyes to something behind you. You turn around, following his gaze and spot the dressing screen. You look back at Merlin and nod, before shifting your gaze back to the queen.

“If you could just wait for me behind the screen, my lady, I will bring the gown to you,”

Gwen nods and crosses the room, stepping behind the screen. Once she is out of view, you place your basket on the table and remove Gwen’s gown, revealing the doublet underneath. You wordlessly pass the doublet to Merlin and Arthur carefully stands, lifting his chair as he does so, to prevent it from scraping on the floor. Leaving them to it, you take the gown to Gwen.

“I just need some help with the last few fastenings,” Gwen says once you arrive, the back of her current gown partially open.

You drape the new gown over the screen to free your hands and assist Gwen. Once she is in just her undergarments, you help her into the new gown, discreetly peeking around the screen to check the king’s progress. Merlin gives you a thumbs up and you finish closing the back of Gwen’s new gown.

“All done,” You say as you close the final fastening just below the nape of her neck.

She turns around and steps out from behind the screen, glancing into the antechamber. She spots the king, wearing his new doublet, and gasps, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Arthur!” She beams, striding to her husband to embrace him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” He smiles over her shoulder.

Gwen steps back and grasps the king’s arm, leading him across the room to the mirror to view their outfits side-by-side.

“We look wonderful,” She kisses the king’s cheek and turns to face you. “Thank you, (Y/N), they are perfect,”

“Everything is comfortable? There is still time to make adjustments, if need be,” You reply.

“Mine fits like a glove,” Gwen says, before looking at her husband. “Arthur?”

“It’s extremely comfortable,” He replies, earning him a nudge from Gwen. “And it looks very nice. Thank you,”

“I’m glad that you are pleased,” You smile.

“Will you be coming to the harvest feast?” Gwen asks as she leads the king back into the antechamber.

“I will. Sir Gwaine asked me to go with him,”

You spot Merlin smile from across the room.

“Oh good. I’d hoped he would,” Gwen says, looking pleased.

The king and queen’s outfits get you thinking. You know that some couples or sweethearts discuss their outfits prior to an event, so that they might match. With this in mind, you decide to stop by Gwaine’s chambers before heading back to your own.

Gwaine answers the door when you knock and steps aside so you may enter. You notice the other knights in the room, Sirs Elyan and Leon seated at the table, and Sir Percival perched on the edge of Gwaine’s bed, likely due to there not being enough chairs.

Leon stands. “We’ll leave you to it,”

“No, please, I’m not going to stay long,” You gesture for them all to stay seated, then turn your attention to Gwaine. “I just wanted to ask what you’ll be wearing to the harvest feast?”

“What I’ll be wearing?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose my knight’s kit, like we always do to these kind of events,”

He looks around at his comrades who all nod to confirm. You hum thoughtfully, a bit disappointed it isn’t something more exciting. You glance behind Gwaine at his friends at the table, who are kitted out in their mail and cloaks.

“Would I look any good in scarlet?” You mumble to yourself.

“I think you would,” Gwaine says in a low voice.

“Anyway,” You snap back to attention. “That was all. You boys enjoy the rest of your day.

You smile and give the knights a small wave before returning to your chambers.

Your first musings are of a red gown, but that feels too obvious and uninspired. You ponder the knights’ uniform: silver chainmail, scarlet cape, gold embroidery… surely you can think something up. But do you have time to make anything? You’ve finished the king and queen’s attire and you don’t have any other jobs, so you should be able to handle making something for yourself, but are you being foolish? Perhaps you should just pick out something you already own and add some accessories to make it a bit more special? No, you long for something fresh and new.

You sketch out designs in your journal, spending hours doing so, until the sun has set and you must work by candlelight. You have a simple meal for dinner that requires no cooking, so that you might continue sketching while you eat, popping food in your mouth with one hand while the other scratches away at the parchment.

#gwaine x reader #sir gwaine #gwaine #merlin fic #bbc merlin fic #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #reader insert #gwaine merlin #reader x gwaine #my writing

24 notes · View notes