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teapartyprincess4two · 5 months

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Full Set- M. Sturniolo

pairing: nailtech!reader x Matthew Sturniolo

classification: mostly fluff

warnings: use of y/n & slow build up just how I like it (HA)

summary: Reader is a well renowned nail tech in L.A and due to her growing popularity has become everyone’s go-to nail tech. This leads her to become a workaholic, stunting many of the areas of her life. Three regular customers work towards changing that.

—

“Girl! Do NOT tell me you took him back after that!” You exclaimed, commenting on the crazy story your client was currently telling you. You awaited her response as you diligently worked the acrylic bead on her nail bed. She laughed a little, her face turning red with embarrassment letting you know instantly that she most definitely had taken him back after that.

You scoffed slightly, shooting her a disapproving look before going back to the work at hand. “Just hear me out-“ she begins, but you quickly cut her off with the sound of the nail drill. She glared slightly at you before laughing again, realizing that this was your way of telling her you disapproved of her decision.

When you’re finally done filing and shaping her nails you continue, “I don’t want to hear any excuses, girl. I’m not working my magic to give you such a bomb ass set for you to waist it with a guy like that.”

She doesn’t skip a beat as she replies with a slight shrug, “Whatever girl, if you weren’t such a workalcoholic you’d find a man too. Life’s not all about work, work, work.” By the end of her statement she was humming Work by Rihanna and giving you a goofy smile.

In return, you offer her a sarcastic smile before replying, “I’m way too busy to be putting up with bullshit like that. I’ll gladly work my life away before I allow ANY man to disrupt my life.” She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, “Hmm. Whatever you say.”

The conversation was beginning to annoy you more than you realized so, before you said anything you’d later regret, you opened Spotify and pressed shuffle. You continued working on her hands as your playlist played softly in the background, contemplating whether or not you should completely mentally check out from the conversation. After mulling it over and realizing that it could cost you your tip, you decided against it, “You know what, girl? You’re so right.”

What you had said was simple, but it seemed to satisfy your client enough because she straightened her posture and held her chin high as if she’d truly won. She hummed to herself, feeling triumphant in her small ‘victory.’

“When am I ever wrong?” She asked, the entire situation inflating her ego. You threw another sarcastic smile her way and wondered if she realized you were only agreeing with her for the sake of professionalism. Before you could respond she continued, “Quick question though…” She paused for a moment, waiting for you to acknowledge her. You looked at her expectantly, bracing yourself for another round of choosing to keep quiet in case you said the wrong thing.

“Do you think we can add more glitter?”

—

After working on your tenth client, your work day was finally over. You swiftly cleaned up your work station, ensuring to prepare everything you’d need for the long list of clients awaiting you tomorrow. When you finally finished you made your way over to your room, your feet dragging on the floor. A loud sigh escaped you as you threw yourself onto your bed, rolling around until you were completely under the covers.

As draining as your career could be, you couldn’t help but over schedule and over-book yourself to make the most of your time and talent. It wasn’t until your last client walked out the door fully satisfied with their nail set that you’d allow yourself to decompress and relax. Even then, when you were tucked under your comforter, you found yourself checking your emails and dms in order to book more clients.

Today was no exception as you scrolled through your Instagram dms answering as many messages as you could, all of them inquiring about the services you provided, your hours of operation, and your next open availability. One message in particular caught your attention:

@ NicolasSturniolo: Hello! I was referred to you by a friend and was wondering when you’re free. My brothers and I would love to get a set by you.

For the most part all your clients were women, you’d never worked on a singular man before, let alone multiple. You clicked on his account, deciding to do some research before replying. As you scrolled through his account you realized that he had two brothers, making this a three in one deal. Immediately your brain lit up at the possibilities because not only would you be able to work on multiple clients during one session, but you’d also be opening your business up for any future male clients.

You quickly typed up your response, cross checking your calendar in order to ensure your dates were correct:

@ NailsByY/N: Hi! Thanks so much for reaching out! My next open availability is tomorrow, the 23rd, at 2:30pm. If that doesn’t work, I’m also available the 24th at 11am! I unfortunately won’t have any further openings until two weeks after that. Let me know what you decide!

Any message you sent from your work Instagram was always kept professional and straight to the point, especially with any potential new clients. You were about to place your phone on your nightstand and call it a night, but he replied a full three minutes later:

@ NicolasSturniolo: Yay! We’ll see you tomorrow at 2:30!

@ NailsByY/N: Awesome! I’ll go ahead and put you down for tomorrow. Feel free to bring any inspiration pictures. This is the address (click link to view), my house has a yellow door you can’t miss it. See you all tomorrow!

He didn’t reply, instead liking your message indicating he’d seen it. A smiled graced your face as you added the appointment to your calendar, feeling extremely satisfied with this business transaction before shutting your phone off, placing it on your nightstand and finally calling it a night.

—

The next morning you woke up bright and early, ready to conquer the day, completing your entire morning routine with enough time to do your makeup, get dressed, and eat breakfast. You had a total of 6 sessions to complete today all consisting of full acrylic sets or extremely detailed gel polish designs. Just the thought of getting through this work day excited you, especially because you were going to be working with new customers that you were eager to impress.

When you finished your breakfast you made your way down to your nail studio, immediately looking around the room to ensure everything was in order. After checking off everything on your mental list, you hummed in approval and opened the window to let the light in. Soon your first client arrived and your work day was in full swing.

Before you knew it, it was 2:30pm and you were entering the final stretch of the day. You cleaned up the mess from the previous set you’d just finished and waited patiently for your next clients to arrive. As you waited you sat back in your chair, stretching your legs out and popping your back in the process. A satisfied sigh leaves your body before you hear a soft knock come from the front door.

You immediately perk up at this, realizing that your final clients of the day are here. The walk from your studio to the front door is short, granting you enough time to listen in on the banter going on behind it.

“I bet it’s not even this house you dumbass!” You hear an exasperated voice yell, earning a slight chuckle from you.

“She said the door was yellow! What color do you see here, Chris?!” Another voice whisper yelled, trying their best to be quiet in case you could hear them. If you hadn’t been standing so close to the door you wouldn’t have heard it.

“This door’s not even- Oh you’re right, this door is yellow,” the first voice replied again.

“Just knock louder!” a third voiced interrupted, sounding annoyed with the entire interaction. Before anything else could be said you unlocked the door and opened it abruptly catching all three boys by surprise.

“Hello!” You greeted in a sing song voice attempting to ease any tension between the three. “Hi!” they all greeted in unison, offering you warm smiles. You returned the smile before asking, “Are you guys here for the 2:30 session?”

Of course you knew they were, but you needed some form of confirmation before inviting strangers into your home. “Yes! We booked it last night,” you recognized this boy as Nick, the boy you’d spoken to last night in regards to the appointment.

“Awesome, come in! My studios right back there,” you opened the door wider and gestured for them to walk inside, moving aside to allow room for them to enter. They piled in quickly, offering you more smiles as they looked around your house.

Your house was adorned from head to toe in all your favorite things including movie posters, cute throw pillows, various plants, and so many scented candles. As you closed and locked the door behind you, your cat ran across your living room and cut their path. “That’s my cat don’t mind her.” A nervous chuckle escaped your lips at the sight of your cat hurriedly making her way through your home.

Their eyes followed your cat as she quickly ran up the stairs and into your room. “She’s so cute. What’s her name?” One of the other two asked, averting his gaze from the direction your cat disappeared into to meet your eyes. You made a mental note to learn their names, noticing how similar they all looked. If you didn’t learn their names, you’d never be able to tell the difference between them at all. At this point the only one whose name you knew was Nick, but from the conversation you’d heard earlier you knew at least one of them was named Chris.

“Her name is Fat Mama,” you replied and laughed at how ridiculous it sounded out loud. Your cat’s name caused them to laugh as well, making you smile. “That’s quite a name she’s got there.” You realized you had just introduced your cat, but hadn’t even introduced yourself, “Oh my God, here I am introducing my cat without even telling you my own name.” They laughed at this, finding the situation equally as funny.

“I’m y/n,” you stretched a hand out for a handshake.

“Matt,” the first brother replied, taking your hand in his in a firm handshake. ‘Matt’ you noted mentally. He seemed nice and you now knew he liked cats due to your previous conversation. You two exchanged a smile before you moved onto the next brother, seeing as you knew which one was Nick you figured that this one had to be Chris.

“I’m Chris,” the second brother said, affirming your suspicions as he took your hand in an equally firm handshake, his long hair falling in front of his face slightly. Hmm, ‘Chris’ would be easy to identify seeing as he was the only one with long hair. You took another mental note of this as you offered him a smile and went on to greet the last of the three.

“And I’m Nick, but you knew that already,” the last brother said, an excited undertone laced in his voice. He seemed to be watching you as you deciphered which brother was which, taking notice at how your eyes were observing their features in an attempt to tell them apart. You smiled once again and nodded your head, taking his hand in yours for the last handshake.

“Cool! Now that we know who’s who, let’s get started! Follow me,” you turned around swiftly, motioning for them to follow you as you entered your studio. They were careful not to touch anything in the living room as they followed closely behind you in fear that they’d accidentally break something, instead they admired the aesthetic of the decor surrounding them.

As soon as they entered the room you got straight to work, working magic with your brushes as you detailed their nails. Throughout the session you took a few pictures for your Instagram, keeping your interactions as professional as possible up until the very end, but still taking the time to make conversation and get to know them. You learned that they were YouTubers who moved to L.A from Boston and made a career out of funny, engaging videos they filmed in their car. You found this pretty interesting and use it as a way to keep any attention off yourself, not wanting to get too personal too quick.

While you worked on the last set, Nick asked if he could schedule the next appointment seemingly satisfied with your work, “Girl, you ate this shit up! When is your next availability?” Chris and Matt agreed, admiring their nails from behind Nick. An accomplished smile graced your face as you adjusted his hand under the UV lamp, using your other hand to grab your phone from your pocket. Prepared to check your calendar and give him as accurate of an answer as possible you unlocked your phone before replying, “Hmm, my next availability is two weeks out.”

You scrolled through your calendar, clicking the exact date you were available, sliding the phone over to Nick. He used his free hand to look through the time stamps before picking another 2:30pm appointment and sliding the phone back to you.

—

The rest of your interactions with the triplets were similar to this until around the 4th time they booked with you. At this point, you were more comfortable around them and considered them regular customers. You now openly invited any and all conversation that allowed them to inquire about your personal life. Even Fat Mama got excited when they came around, immediately cuddling up to Matt.

“So no boyfriend?” Nick asked, watching as the brush you were holding twirled in your fingers and danced along his fingernail. You had already finished both Chris and Matt’s nails, both of them waiting in chairs behind Nick as you worked on his set. “Nope, no boyfriend,” you replied nonchalantly, your tongue poking out in concentration as you looked between the inspiration photo he showed you and his nail trying to recreate it as accurately as possible. From the interactions he’d had with you, Nick quickly realized you were a workaholic. And now that you’re admitting to not having a boyfriend, he’s beginning to suspect that you don’t do much other than work.

“What do you do for fun, then?” He hesitated to ask the question because he didn’t want to pry too much, but his curiosity got the best of him. You looked up from the nail you were working on, meeting his expectant gaze. The question caught you a bit off guard, immediately reminding you of the conversation you’d had with your client just a couple of months ago. ‘Work,’ you thought internally because working was truly fun for you. Work by Rihanna instantly played in your head as you remembered your clients words, ‘Life’s not all about work, work, work.’

You shook the thought out of your mind, breaking eye contact with Nick and averting your attention back to his nails. It would be easy to lie, they don’t know you well enough to know any better, but you decided against it, “I don’t have time for any of that, I work a lot.” You were satisfied with your answer, being proud in the fact that you were always working.

Unbeknownst to you, Matt was listening in on the entire conversation. Chris, on the other hand, had his airpods in so he couldn’t hear a thing. Not like he cared to listen anyway, he was too busy trying to pry Fat Mama from Matt. Fat Mama would just punch his hand away each time. “Oh c’mon, you have to have at least ONE free day,” Nick pushed, trying to see how far he could get before you changed the topic.

To his surprise you didn’t seem too bothered by his comment. In reality you’d heard it all before and had the perfect answer prepared. You grabbed your phone, once again opening your calendar and sliding it towards him. “Is this your way of telling me to shut up and book my next appointment?“ he laughed, looking down at your phone with a confused expression.

You ignored his question and instead posed him with a challenge, “Try and find my ONE free day.” A small smirk lifted at the corner of your mouth knowing he’d be scrolling forever until he found a free day in your schedule. Nick gladly accepted the challenge with a huff, allowing you to work on one hand as he used his free hand to scroll through your calendar. His eyes widened at the sight of your busy schedule, ready to give up. He swiped once more before jumping up with excitement. He had just found your ONE free day.

The sudden movement surprised you a bit causing you to look up at him. ‘There’s no way he actually found a day,’ you thought. He didn’t have to say it, you knew he had. You snatched the phone from him and inspected the screen, eyes widening at the sight of a day free of appointments. “What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself in disbelief as you attempted to refresh the screen in hopes that something would magically appear.

Nick’s face held a smirk, “I’d like to book that day.” You shrugged in response, clicking the date ready to pencil in a 2:30pm appointment as per usual, “fine with me.” He shook his head as a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, “but not with a nail appointment, a day out.”

“You’re crazy,” you laughed, not taking him seriously. You removed his hands from the UV lamp, making final touches to his nails.

“What’s so crazy about wanting to be your friend?” This time it was Matt who spoke which caught you by surprise because you never clocked that he was listening the entire time. Nick looked between you and Matt, just as surprised that he’d been listening. “There’s nothing crazy about it, I just don’t have time for that stuff.” Now that you were done with Nick’s nails, you found yourself messing with the brushes just for an excuse to escape this conversation.

“You clearly do, Nick just proved it.” Matt responded, a matter of fact tone to his voice.

Before you could respond, Chris let out a small yelp and held onto his hand, “Fat Mama just scratched me!”

—

When the triplets left your house both Nick and Matt made it clear that you didn’t have a choice on whether you got to spend your day off with them or not. The only thing Chris was worried about was whether or not Fat Mama was hiding behind a corner ready to attack him.

When the day finally arrived, you still woke up early. You did your routine as you normally did, finishing it in record time. You did your makeup, got dressed and ate breakfast quickly too. Nothing about your life was slow paced, you couldn’t even find it in you to take your time getting ready.

It seemed like the clock slowed down as you waited for 2:30 to finally roll around. By this point you had washed the dishes, cleaned the restroom, tidied up your bedroom, vacuumed the house, cleaned out Fat Mama’s litter box, and even organized your entire nail studio before 1pm. When you finished all these tasks you sat in your living room, watching the clock tick. That clock was taunting you, you were sure of it. A loud groan rang through your house, you were so bored out of your mind.

Finally at 2pm, you received a message from Nick on your personal Instagram:

@ NicolasSturniolo: We just finished putting gas, we’re on our way to yours. Be ready!

‘Be ready?!’ you thought. You’d been ready before the sun this morning! You exhaled loudly, attempting to contain yourself before replying:

@ Y/N: okay! I’ll wait for you guys outside :)

What you really wanted to say was, “I’m ready! I’ve BEEN ready!” but you’re glad you didn’t because his next text was actually really sweet.

@ NicolasSturniolo: We’re really excited! We have such a fun day planned!!

The message put a genuine smile on your face and changed your mood entirely. You made sure to like it before turning your phone off and throwing it in your purse. You gathered your things and pushed yourself off the couch, calling out a quick goodbye to your cat as you walked out the door even though she was definitely not listening and definitely didn’t care that you were leaving. When you made your way outside you sat down on the front doorstep, waiting patiently for the triplets to arrive.

Their car pulled into your drive way a few minutes later causing you to immediately spring up from your spot on your doorstep. As you made your way towards their car, you noticed Nick and Chris put their windows down and begins waving and shouting at you to hurry up.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late for the movie at the pace you’re walking, kid,” Chris snickered, watching as you quickened your pace. “Are you excited?!” Nick asked, his face completely lighting up as you took a seat beside him in the backseat. Honestly, you were excited. This was the first time you’d been out with friends in a long time and it was definitely your first time going out with any of your clients.

“I’m VERY excited,” you replied as you buckled yourself into your seat and exaggerated your tone slightly to sound more excited than you were. Matt looked back at you from the drivers seat, beginning to back out of your drive way with his right hand against the passenger seat to gain a better look out his rear view window. For whatever reason this view of him put you in a trance and you had completely tuned Nick out.

“Y/n! Y/N!” Nick clapped his hands in front of your face, breaking you from your trance and reeling you back into reality. “Did you hear anything I just said?!”

You looked between him and Matt, who was now staring at you from the rear view mirror with a puzzled expression. You coughed awkwardly and averted your gaze, looking at Nick instead. Chris was also looking at you, his whole body shifted towards the middle console. “Um- Yeah, no. I heard nothing,” you attempted to sound casual.

“I just told you our whole schedule for the night, but since you weren’t listening I’m not repeating it,” Nick admitted, looking a little annoyed at the situation. You were annoyed too, annoyed that you had missed the whole nights itinerary and that Matt‘s attention was no longer on you. The second sentiment felt a little weird, you’d never thought about Matt like that until now.

“Everyone shut up and listen to this BANGER,” Chris exclaimed, breaking the awkward tension and pressing play on his phone. Immediately the car was flooded with trap music and you sat back in your seat allowing the night to go on.

—

The boys truly had an eventful night planned, it quickly became the most eventful day you’d ever had. First, you all went to the theater to watch the new Barbie movie. You’d actually been meaning to watch this movie, so this was a very welcomed experienced. After the movie theater, they took you to play mini golf. Chris ended up beating you all and boasted about his score all the way to your third destination, a local pizza shop.

While at the pizza shop, the four of you engaged in meaningful, heartfelt conversations as you shared childhood stories and swapped secrets causing the booth you were sat in to fill with laughter. Throughout these conversations, you and Matt kept stealing glances at each other. It was slowly driving you insane.

When you finished eating, they invited you over to their house to play video games. They hyped up the games they had, claiming that it would be so much fun. You were fully expecting to go home after the pizza shop and even more prepared to decline their kind offer. You had a full day of appointments waiting for you tomorrow, it was a better than perfect excuse, but before you could even open your mouth to protest Matt had already started speaking. “It’s going to be so much fun, y/n. You’ll love it,” his eyes were once again watching you through the rear view mirror, watching closely for your reaction. How were you going to decline their offer after that?

“Fine, okay. I’ll go,” you agreed in defeat. They all cheered in excitement as Matt began the drive to their house.

Once you finally arrived at their house, they immediately gave you a house tour. They showed you the kitchen, their podcast room, each of their rooms, and finally the living room. They quickly set up the gaming system, turning the tv on and shuffling through a multitude of games. “What game do you wanna play?” Matt asked enthusiastically, he seemed really excited to start playing.

He handed you the controller, allowing you to shuffle through the options presented on the screen, “ummm…” You seemed to shuffle through every option at least 5 times before deciding on a game. “This one?” It came out like a question mostly because you were unsure about what the game was about, you only chose it because it seemed the easiest. He had been looking at you the whole time, admiring your inquisitive look as you thought hard as to what game to choose, not realizing what game it even was.

Nick, who had been looking down at his phone the whole time, looked up to see what game you’d chosen. Your choice caused him to laugh out loud, grabbing Chris’s attention too. Chris looked at the screen and had the same reaction, “Y/n, you have to pick another game. Matt does NOT play about his Fortnite.” Chris’s comment was meant to tease and embarrass him, but Matt perked up at the mention of the game, finally breaking eye contact with you and looking up towards the tv.

Without hesitation he opened the game, waiting for it to load and scooting in closer to you on the couch. “What the fuck is Fortnite?” You asked, completely bewildered. “What the fuck is Fort- What the fuck is Fortnite? Only the best game 13 year old me ever played,” Matt replied, his response coming out so quick that it earned a laugh from the rest of you.

—

For the first couple of games you just watched them play and at first it was really interesting and you’d get excited whenever they would, but soon you were yawning slightly during the boring parts where they were looking for supplies or running through random fields. Your head fell and rested on Matt’s shoulder, your eyes feeling very heavy. You watched as his fingers frantically clicked buttons, your eyes locking onto his nails and mentally patting yourself on the back for your work.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep. Matt noticed this and decided he was done playing, handing the controller to Chris who eagerly took ahold of it and immediately locked into the game. Nick had also dozed off, his head resting on the armrest to the left of him.

Matt slumped a little in his seat, careful not to wake or disturb you. His eyes shifted down towards you, taking in your full beauty as you rested calmly against his shoulder. He doesn’t know when it happened, but he began having feelings for you at some point. Maybe it was during your first encounter when you’d shamelessly announced the goofy name you gave your cat or when you gingerly worked on his hands, your touch igniting at his fingertips.

When he realized what he felt, he shared it with his brothers. He confided most of it with Chris, realizing that you and Nick had developed some sort of friendship that might warrant Nick to accidentally slip up and mention it to you. Matt loved your work ethic most of all, admiring the drive and passion you held for your career. But he did wish you’d make more time for yourself. Every time he looked down at his fingernails he was reminded of the countless hours you put into your craft. He loved visiting you every two weeks for a fresh set, taking a special pride in the fact that your cat only every approached him out of the three of them.

He’d never admit it, but he was internally jumping for joy when you’d accepted to hang out with them. Nick wanted to plan out the day, but Matt had beat him to it, scheduling and planning everything from the movie to mini golf course to the pizza shop. He wanted it to be perfect for you, especially after your relentless hard work day to day. Matt became lost in thoughts of you and before long he fell asleep too, his head resting aon top of yours.

“Dude, Matt, I’m about to fucking kill this guy watch,” Chris whispered as if the guy on the screen could hear him. He shot the character on the screen and jumped up excitedly because he’d just taken the winning shot. “MATT! MATT! DUDE DID YOU SEE THAT?!?” Chris exclaimed and looked over at Matt, his face dropping when he realized everyone had fallen asleep.

“Boo. Y’all are no fun,” he grumbled, readying up for another game.

—

When you woke up the next morning you immediately groaned at the pain in your neck. Before you could even acknowledge where you were, you searched around frantically for your phone to check the time. When you finally found it, the time read 12:30pm. ‘FUCK,’ you thought, the anxiety completely engulfing your body. Your first appointment today was at 11am, you scrolled through your notifications and saw 7 missed calls from your client.

You looked around, fully expecting to be at home, but when you took in your surroundings you realized you were still at the Triplet’s house. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching the boys play that stupid Fortnite game. To your left was Nick, still out cold and to your right was Matt, his head now resting on the back of the couch. You didn’t want to have to wake him up, but you didn’t have your car and without his help you’d never make it home on time for your next appointment.

“Matt! Matt!” You whisper shouted, shaking his shoulders so he’d wake up. You repeated this process a few times, each time becoming more and more aggressive. He woke up in a panic, shooting up immediately and grabbing a hold of your arms in the process. His eyes were wide open, searching your face to see what was wrong. By this point your eyes were brimmed with tears and you were completely overwhelmed.

“What? What’s wrong, baby?” The nickname slipped from his mouth effortlessly and if you weren’t so panicked you might’ve paid more attention to it. “It’s 12:30,” you replied, shoving your phone in his face so he could see the time. His face softened at this, realizing that you weren’t in any immediate danger, he sighed in relief as he responded, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“I need you to take me home. Right now,” your face was serious, tears still threatening to fall. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” His mind immediately went to the worst possible scenario, wondering if he’d bothered you by sleeping so close to you or by resting his head on yours, or even by letting himself slip up and call you baby. “I missed an appointment…” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall.

Although he hated seeing you cry, he felt a wave of relief wash over him when he realized you weren’t upset with him. “Oh thank God,” he whispered, clutching his chest dramatically and throwing his head back against the couch again. “Why are you thanking God right now? I’ve never missed an appointment before!” You wiped your tears away.

Before he could stop himself he was admitting it all to you, “I thought you heard me call you baby just now.” Your eyes widened at this revelation, suddenly your missed appointment and the 7 missed calls didn’t matter so much, “I didn’t hear you call me baby… you called me baby?”

His face immediately burned with embarrassment as he realized what he had just done. There was no backing down now, if he didn’t admit his feelings to you now he knew he’d never gain the courage to do it later. “Yes?” His voice had an underlying inquisitive tone, he was nervous and wanted to test the waters before diving in head first.

Matt watched as your face changed completely, going from distress to pure happiness. This was enough motivation for him to finally confess his feelings for you. “Can I be really honest and vulnerable with you right now?” He asked, looking down at his nails, remembering all the reasons he has to love you.

“Yes?” You matched his tone from earlier, trying to ease his nerves. It worked, he laughed and sighed before continuing, “I think I’m in love with you.” From the direction the conversation was heading, you were expecting a confession, but nothing could’ve prepared you for Matt confessing his love for you.

“Before you say anything, just hear me out,” he breathed in deeply, once again working up the courage to speak. “I don’t know when it happened, but all I know is that I find myself wishing every two weeks that time could speed up and it could be 2:30.” Your heart was beating 1000 beats per minute and the anticipation was killing you. He had stopped looking at his nails and had now locked eyes with you.

“I love so many things about you y/n… I love the way you work hard everyday to create absolute works of art. I love that you invite people into your space so openly. I love that you take pride in your work. I love the way that your apartment is a personification of you. I love the way you poke your tongue out when you’re concentrating or even the fact that you painted your door yellow. I love that you’re so gentle, yet so precise in everything you do. I love listening to you talk and I love looking at your beautiful smile. I love that you allowed yourself to enjoy a day out with us, despite it going against your true nature. Shit, I love that you named your cat Fat Mama.” The last sentence earned a laugh from you, happy tears now rolling down your checks. You’d never been confessed to, especially not in such a sincere way.

There weren’t words that could express how you were feeling, instead you decided a kiss would suffice. The kiss was sweet, igniting a fire inside you. You felt Matt smile into the kiss, placing his hands on your face to pull you in closer.

“I think I love you too.” You admitted as you pulled away, resting your forehead against his and gazing into his eyes. You two were too lost in the moment to realize that Nick and Chris were awake and had seen and heard the whole thing.

“You two are disgusting,” Nick commented, getting up from the couch and walking to his room. “I agree, you guys are corny as fuck,” Chris chimed in, doing the same.

You both laughed, too mesmerized by each other to even care. You couldn’t believe you were about to let this boy enter your life and completely disrupt it.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: mmmm i said i wasn’t going to write anything again, but a lot of people liked my last story sooooo I decided I’d try again. This time I wrote someothing so unbelievably long, but I really love adding little details and referring back to them. I hope y’all enjoy, if not that’s fine too. K BYEEEEE

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

#matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt x reader #Matthew sturniolo x reader #Matthew sturniolo x y/n

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

Text

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

#one piece #x reader #op killer #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #op killer x reader #massacre Soldier Killer x reader #op killer smut #killer x reader smut #pollen fic #one piece pollen #op pollen fic

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

— telling him “i'm glad i didn‘t break up with you that one time”

including scaramouche, diluc, alhaitham, kaveh x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, a little sad (kaveh's part), we‘re so evil

— scaramouche

feathery, fluffy clouds breezily dotted the expanding sapphire blue sky as the incandescent radiant rays of eternal warmth— like fireballs, drifted across the sizzling nation of pristine wisdom.

scaramouche mellowly declined his head into your supple lap while you were indulging your trusted presence on a secluded area a bit away from sumeru city— his hair was deep tinged and glinted eminently, dark indigo locks that were lucently aglow from the smoldering sun riveting your frames.

you can still remember it vividly, the spellbound rays tottering down on your body as you nimbly closed your eyes for a second while carelessly scurrying your hand over his silky hair. It was rather comforting to him and you were aware that your boyfriend must've been immoderately drained from his taxing work load.

and by any means whatsoever, within the strong comfort of the fateful consolatory spot, a— you could say, brilliant yet a shade evil idea transited into the deepest edges of your psyche.

you pretended to listen to whatever scaramouche had to proudly talk about as your hand carried on to gladsomely delve further around his scalp, jovially motioning aimless symbols on his head.

his eyes wander shut at the closeness of you when he idly shifted the conversation into another topic, "this is fine." he speaks mousy— his breathing was fluttery and bounteous with love, yet although his voice was not lined out of lustrous silk, it did not trickle in an even consistent tone, you had treasured it nonetheless and his voice was your glaring favorite. "this— this feels fine."

that was it, the perfect timing, you suppress a devilish grin and got ready for your disguised scheme coming into wicked play, "it really is." you tried to respond in a false articulated stainless voice, "—and i'm so happy i didn't break up with you that one time."

bordering on a comical sight right under where your boyfriend was presently marveling on your lap, scaramouche had now instantly bolted up to meet your eyes in a part spread sight— but now something changed, an expression akin to filtered shock and discontent. "what?"

in all respects, he was done with his spoken words, because what made you want to break up with him in the first place? what instance in your past togetherness had been enforcing those negative, cruel emotions in you that you even thought about it?

it was a hurting, clear thought— additionally pestering him and it was more horrific than anything else pressuring his goddamn mind.

"what, what?" you silently ask beneath the lines of your regulated breathing, scaramouche never looked so lost before and you tightly bristled your lips together in an pursue to not blast your evil cover.

"what did you mean by that?" if he had to choose, scaramouche would rather have someone repeatedly run him over with a carriage than be in this clashing conversation, "you wanted to break up with me?"

to your appreciable surprise, he did not let his inner rage come to broad daylight, rather was he willing to figure out what has been going on that made you think that. Now, with the concern being all written across his pretty features, you felt as if you should come clean before he actually gets a heart attack from your wrongful play.

"tell me what i did, i will fix it—" the compression in his emotions had inflated as you snappily got a hold of his squishy cheeks, instantly cupping his face, "i'm so sorry, i'm messing with you." though you ended up awkwardly laughing with a sorrowful grin as to lighten up the damaged mood, scaramouche's mouthing took a turn— slightly dazed but also fed up, the penetrating gaze of him, previously a tone lower but now plumb with a diverting split on his lips.

"you.." the little mewl exposed more than a simple intrigue, "you will regret this." with an eye on him you leaned forward to kiss your boyfriend but scaramouche was one step ahead. He speedily took both of your wrists in his palm and dropped you on your back— making you lose stability of your body.

"oh, what's gotten into you?" he asks— innocently enough for you to believe it at first before he was puncturing specific places on your stomach, fronting matter to pinch and tickle the skin, "ah!" you cry out, whining at the burn, "i'm sorry i'm sorry!"

"don't do that anymore." scaramouche kept you on edge— exactly where he wanted you to be, "or i'll give you a taste of your own medicine."

— diluc

inside the limits of your prevailing ventures, you so happen to find yourself nonchalantly strolling over to your boyfriends tavern— the angels share, where he was, at this time, in the midst of closing the bar after another successful night.

in related manner was it a regular practice you'd follow closely, it being to do your utmost greatest to spend as much time as possible with your primarily preoccupied partner— granted that it was centrally you both walking home and then falling asleep shortly afterwards in your shared bed, though that alone made it worth it to you.

diluc found himself greatly engaged in properly cleaning up the bar counter and putting away a bottle of unused dandelion wine as you ardently knocked on the door with your signature thumps— so he knows it's you, before letting yourself pass through.

pristinely, diluc did not have to look up to see that it was you entering the bar— for one, as mentioned prior, was it the initial bangs on the large door the both of you had originally turned a habit as a humorous joke, as well as the recognized spreading presence of you being more than enough for him to figure it out.

he composes himself as his warm eyes then, without an ounce of wavering, flicker without delay to wholly greet you with his comforting calm manner, "you're early." he reminds you, thinking out loud, each new articulation of his being thoroughly tempted out in an urged chatter— it's noticeable, how unmistakable worn out he was.

"i told you i'd come visit before you're closing the tavern." you listlessly slant back on the barstool to take a convenient seat and you lively smile at him while diluc carried on to clean a couple of the utensils that had become irksome obstacles yet shyly quelling a spiking sneer in him, unreservedly molding himself into your homely aura, "i'm glad then."

in passing, you idly watched him for a brief while until diluc unexpectedly turned to you again, catching you off guard, "oh, i have something for you." he surprisingly hummed along each new syllable and you find yourself admiring the view in front of you, his face generously shading red, "i saw them and had to take it with me."

you recollect your focus on him when diluc spoke in a charming way that sent a beguiling spike through your pounding heart before you noticed something large in his hand; a bouquet of your most beloved flowers.

his posture stiffened a little— most likely because of a miniature impale of nervousness scurrying through his flaming veins, because what if you end up not liking the well scented, thoughtful gift?

though you had loved it, of course— even more than that and as he was eyeing your reaction up close, sensing how your widened eyes coursed brilliantly as you accepted the flowers in your hands, you gaze at him in a darting loving way, tightly squeezing the bouquet in your right arm to be able to give him a hug and express your utmost gratitude to him— for him, because he simply was the best in your eyes, the most attentive boyfriend to have ever existed.

"I do hope you fancy it." his rippling skin felt comforted back in your cosy cuddle with his large hand being closely pressed on your lower back as he made you turn on him closer. "i love it."

"— and I'm so grateful i didn't break up with you that one time."

well, just hold up a second? what.

"...umm, thanks." he earned yet another eruption of laughter from you though you had roughly closed it sunkenly in you, so diluc wouldn't figure out you're actually not being serious right now, at all.

diluc— though now greatly overwhelmed but rather leaning into a more confused state of mind in terms of your sudden exclaim, manages to huff out a low sigh while bringing his attention back to you, slowly drawing himself away from your close embrace.

for a fleeting spell, you both looked into each other's eyes boundlessly astounded and bowled over— stated in a more frequent type of way; it was in actuality diluc who was looking wholly rendered at loss of words when you tried your dearest to keep your wicked giggles in check.

but then, he talks again, although pumped full with overthrowing worry in his once glowing eyes, "I'm not certain on how to appropriately tackle this conversation." he mumbles while virtually thinking out loud, "can you perhaps tell me what i did wrong so i can get better— get better for you?"

quite frankly, you couldn't take it anymore and soon your whole body was filled with great misdeed, he may not have a clue right now but in total truth you were only trying to get a glimpse of a somewhat saddened reaction out of your boyfriend— which now, might've been a little evil, though, after all, you couldn't really pass up on that perfect presented opportunity.

"you did nothing." you squeal in panic, gently placing the flowers on the bar counter to keep your attention on him, "i'm sorry i was messing with you."

you pretty much fell into his arms and diluc instantly had hugged you right back— though still in shock, his eyes growing in the size of saucers. You lied close into his shoulder and tried to lift the mood with a humane touch of your hands on his back.

"you menace." diluc reveals an adorable sigh as his chest heaved up and down, the shock still lingering deep but a smile minimally lifted at his lips when he turned to hearteningly pant out a shaky heave into your arms. "you absolute menace."

— alhaitham

"and that’s correct." alhaitham kindly affirms towards the region of your direction while being patiently sat before your pretty eyes, fixedly gulping down the nascent saliva in his mouth to enunciate his following words, "—now to the next question."

undoubtably and much to your sweet pleasure, your boyfriend alhaitham took his current, new acquired position, awfully serious!

on the whole, he was an excellent tutor— strikingly perfect for your upcoming exam which had caused you a countless amount of sleepless nights, while he was aware of your struggles, he had put it upon himself to aid you as much as he was able to.

bizarrely to you, he was a bit too serious and stern, bound and determined while forgetting to keep it natural. Yet alhaitham understands and recognizes your strengths, turning it attainable to solicit 100% of your greatest strong point, presenting you with your highest amount of concentration to study.

"how does this look?" you ask, rather confident in your mannerism as you firmly shoved the fully scribbled paper into his close direction. He looks at it with hawk eyes and crinkles his brows a little— that being an usual trait whenever he found himself in large engrossment.

"incorrect but i didn't expect you to figure it out anyways."

unfortunately to you, alhaitham had a— let's say, interesting habit of spelling out his words before actually thinking his sentences through enough, or maybe he modestly didn't give a damn about how he was perceived or presented to the audience, didn't matter to him if the person he was talking to is a stranger or his significant other, you.

one quiet, internal thought ultimately, without sweet decorations, turned into two hellish thoughts and you had yourself wonder if you were even capable to pay him back just a little bit, in your usual, evil fashion.

"that's rude!" you falsely squeal out, fearing he may have a clue on your new doings right away as you dramatically drew your hand above your heart to act out a pain in your chest.

"you asked — i answered." you could clearly see he didn't think his wording was incorrect or maybe a minuscule portion grating, so you decided to sprinkle a little sass on him, "you're right and i'd be lost without you." your eyes innocently trail to his face, "i'm so grateful you're helping me study."

you were on the verge of exploding, really, the tempting laugh was overfilling your insides but you pushed through, ending your sentence at last, "— but i'm even more grateful to myself that i didn't break up with you that one time."

alhaitham quirks a brow but did not face you right away, did you want to argue with him? or were you trying to be funny again? because speaking from past lived occasions, he wasn't new to you pulling one of those particular intrigues at him.

well, then again, what if it wasn't a tasteless, blundering joke? what if, you were serious this time, honestly would he even blame you? after all, alhaitham knew himself better than anyone else did.

"so, a break up?" he leans back into his chair before crossing his arms around his body, slowly eyeing you from your eyes, to your collarbones and back again. "mhm." you agree with a hum, although both of you being sat, he was easily towering over you with his stance alone, only making you fuse further into yourself.

"and when?" in fact, he will not let this die down, he will manage to get everything he required out of you while barely leaving you to gasp for air.

you wonder if he had already figured it out (he did), your eyes skimming over the entire table to bring your heedfulness somewhere else. "umm, i don't know!" the comedic side of it all was extremely whimsical to your boyfriend— and his plan to lure you into where he wanted you to seem to succeed as well.

"look at me." that damned voice change, nothing that you cannot withstand, nothing but that precise grab his gravelly tone color had on you.

right there, you met his doubtless, assertive eyes, unshaken in his own views. alhaitham unhurriedly leans forward into the table while holding eye contact with you, you're watching him, waiting for chaos to unfold or him laughing at how silly it was for you to even try to fool him.

"maybe next time you get lucky." he quickly wipes his tongue over his mouth, "do you know that you're really bad at acting? it's rather comical watching you try."

heavily exhaling the stored air in your strained lungs, you, wholly fed up with him, rolled your eyes at your oh so confident boyfriend who just didn't know when to keep his mouth sealed tight, "oh shut up!"

— kaveh

love and enchantment, a formidable devotion for another, highly arising out of real personal ties and notable attraction.

for kaveh, those meanings were everything and all, the totality all at once.

beyond a trace of a single doubt, it was unmistakable visible on just how much immeasurable energy and serious effort your boyfriend put into having your blossoming relationship as uplifting, easing and heart warming as possible.

you're his absorbing soulmate and his riveting gratitude and love for you— which he most definitely conveys through those honeyed, dreamy smiles on his plump lips, were sticking out a mile.

from all accessible appearances, one might as well pick up on the nurturing connection that is shared by you lovebirds and how kaveh would always come up with newfound actions to have it shown to everyone in many different varieties.

tonight, it was outside of sumeru city— on top of a idyllic meadow, with the boundless sky being set ablaze by the setting sun right above you, soon to follow was the pale, ashen crescent turned moon, vividly luminous like a silvery claw and fuck, that glittering glow in your eyes as you watched from afar, kaveh wasn't sure if he could fall in love with you even deeper than he already was.

"this is so pretty." the fresh feeling of your body thoughtlessly sloping back into the consoling ground locked out each and every paining worry from your gladdening thoughts.

"i knew you'd like it, i just knew—." kaveh keeps himself from embarrassingly tumbling over his own spoken words, his nails now clawing into his palms and leaving marks— it might've been the nervousness, he fears, although you both had been together for a good while he can catch himself quite frequently becoming shy in his mannerism.

but his phraseology meant nothing, his passing wordage, blank.

there could be sure up to a million and one descriptions to intently describe this current moment happening yet nothing would ever explain it how he saw it, how he perceived you.

aside from that, you also breathed fresh life into his somewhat monotone one, with your sneaky intrigues keeping him on edge the whole time.

"this was a good idea." you're revealing a soft glare to him, a hidden one that from the outside, appeared to be angelic and endearing, though from the inside— salted away an evil plan that was camouflaging your entire mind for the whole day.

call it stowed up curiosity or simple boredom of your person, but you cannot keep yourself from passing up on it, longing to witness kaveh leaving his protective, calming bubble for once in a while.

sure, obviously, he could get mad at you, aggravated or purely stare at you through dead, saddened eyes, but then you'd always be there to make it up to him, in your own charming ways.

kaveh plushly lays on the warm ground before idly securing one of his hands under his head, uncaringly bolstering himself up, "this reminds me of something." you suddenly claim in the direction of your lover so he can hear you, no matter what, "of what?"

in the general run of things you couldn't help yourself but smile at how quick kaveh could get fascinated or absorbed on a random topic you unhurriedly throw into his course of line— no care in the world on what it was, but if you don't tell him and keep the desired answers away, he'd regularly think about it, day on day, until you do end up saying it out loud— which you then, do. "ah, it's nothing!"

"— i'm just glad i didn't break up with you that one time, you know?"

.. silence ..

"..."

"kaveh?"

"..."

you might enquire some sort of exclaim or wonder now, did he pass out or? no silly, of course not! it did feel like he was about to suffer from a large heart attack though.

"b-break up?" he soundlessly mutters, panic, immense panic, if he can afford to say anything coherent at all but he was as still as a mouse, indistinct, until ..

"as in, breaking up? a BREAK up?!"

"oh it's nothing." you hushedly wave your hand in front of his anxious face, without concern leaving yourself to fall back and carry on to glimpse up at the moonlight sky.

"what do you mean n o t h i n g?"

"this is tERRIBLE." - "utterly TERRIBLE." deficient panic pitifully munched on your boyfriends entire being, deeply festering itself into the pitched shadows of his now darkened heart.

"wait please stop." your words did not hit him, it's like he turned himself on autopilot, his eyes large as he looked into the distance, muttering something underneath his pebbly pants which you couldn't decipher what he was babbling over. "it's a joke, please look at me."

no because maybe you did go too far and after encircling your arms around kaveh's body you held him close to you, so the repeated knocks of your heart could be sensed by him.

"i'm sorry i will never do this again." you are met with his— now glassy laced, scarlet eyes, not once does he speak anymore, because quite frankly, for a second he was scared to his very core, in a frenzy, because life without you, is no life at all, no substantial vitality.

but then, a tone of him, irregular and broken, "don't do this." - "again."

you mildly wipe the warm tears off his face and lovingly keep a couple kisses on his forehead— left cheek, right cheek, his cute nose and ultimately finished your sweet attention on his soft lips— that always tasted like roses and felt so tender on top of yours, easily crawling yourself into his lap.

"i'm sorry, i love you and i'd never break up with you, ever."

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rottingparts · 1 year

Text

Confessions

[Mirage x Human!AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Mirage wants to take you out, and not with a sniper.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MINORS DNI!! Human/Alien Robot Relations, mentions of clit, grinding, size difference, bruising, marking up (but not on purpose) (please let me know if i missed something! Sometimes my brain thinks it typed it out or i just miss it in general, it's not on purpose i promise!)

A/N: There is no use of pronouns! Reader is AFAB, but is written GN. This was supposed to be like, multiple characters separately, but this got a little long and i didn't wanna write the other two this long as well, so I'm posting this one by itself. I also kinda wanna do one with potentially a male reader?? Give me your thoughts🔫 -Rot

It started with a ‘I know a place’ and ended with you hopping into Mirage and going to wherever it was he wanted to take you.

The two of you wound up in some secluded area, on a hill, overlooking the sunset below you. Mirage’s door opened and you scooted out. You looked at the scenery before you and gasped. It was astounding, beautiful, and most definitely breathtaking.

“How do you know about this place?”

Mirage waved his hand, “Ah, it’s-” He seemed to not be able to come up with anything, “Noah told me about it.”

“Of course,” You smiled at Mirage, “I should have known you wouldn’t know any cool New York places on your own.”

Mirage feigned being hurt, touching his chest and giving a slight gasp. “I’m trying to spend time with you, and you say that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and sat down in the grass, looking at the pink and orange sky above you. You lied down and closed your eyes. You sighed and heard movement beside you. You peeked over and saw Mirage sitting beside you. He was watching you, thinking. You didn’t know about what, but you could see he was thinking hard.

“Y’know…” Mirage started, shifting where he sat, “This is probably not a good time,” he rambled on, “stop me if it isn’t,” he put one of his servos up, “but, you’re really beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you- I think the team gets mad with how much I talk about you-”

“Mirage-”

“Now, I understand if you don’t think the same thing-”

“Mirage!” You almost shouted. He stopped. “I think- I feel the same.”

“You think you do?” His optic ridges furrowed. He sounded worried.

“No! I know I do.” You smiled at him. “Um, this is embarrassing-”

“Oh trust me,” Mirage shook his head, “It isn’t.”

You paused, “No, it is. I think about you a lot. A lot more than I, uh, probably should.”

Mirage, growing intrigued, gave you a curious look. “Oh? What do you think about? I need every detail.”

Your eyes widened. “No you don’t. All you need to know is I feel the same, and maybe then some.” You were fidgeting, playing with the grass beneath you.

Mirage’s fingers met your face, and he gently, very gently, tilted it towards him. Your eyes met his blue optics and your stomach dropped. A heat pooled between your legs and you tensed. ‘Now is not the time,’ you shouted at yourself. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, but you gotta go first.” He inched closer to you, “I don’t want my thoughts to be too weird.”

You nodded, “Okay,” your palms hit your thighs and anxiously rub down them. Mirage was still keeping you looking at him, and as soon as you closed your eyes and inhaled, Mirage was quick to ask you to keep your eyes on him. You looked back at him, “For starters, I think about you a lot at night. I think about your voice, your… servos?” You asked, pointing at them, and he nodded, “I think about what they would feel like against my skin.”

Mirage’s ego was being inflated at a speed unknown to man, “Well, you don’t have to wonder any longer.” He smirked. “I’ll share now!” He seemed excited to tell you after you shared your thoughts, “I think about how soft you would be. Your skin, oh especially your lips-”

You, without thinking, interrupted him, “Would you like to figure that out?”

Mirage cocked an optic ridge at you, “Which one?”

“Both,” You whispered, voice barely audible. Mirage was stuck. Did he think he’d get this far? Not really. “You can kiss me…”

Mirage was on you instantly. Your warm hands went to his face and cupped it. His lips pressed to yours and your stomach turned with excitement. You pulled away, faster than Mirage would have liked and he pouted at you.

“No one is gonna come up here?” There was a desire in your eyes that Mirage could not get enough of. As soon as he shook his head, you nodded. “Can I-” You motioned towards his lap. He moved back from you, sitting directly on the grass and patted his thigh. You crawled onto him and started to kiss him once more.

Mirage grabbed at your waist, dragging you up his thigh slightly, causing you to moan. Mirage took this as a chance to happily stick his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, eyes widening and fingers tensing on his face.

Mirage’s tongue explored your mouth and you rocked on his thigh. That elicited another moan from you and you felt Mirage smile. Mirage moved his leg, picking it up and dropping it, causing you to fall with it as you tried to grind against him. You whined and pulled away from Mirage. He gave you an innocent look, acting as if he didn’t just do that.

With brows furrowed, you huffed at him, “Mirage,” You whined out his name.

“Oh~” He smiled, “I can definitely get used to hearing that!”

“Come on! You’re not gonna leave me high and dry are you?” It was your turn to look at him innocently.

Mirage was melting under your stare. He could have sworn his spark stopped. “How do you wanna do this?” He was folding already. “I mean, I think you’re too small for my spike…”

You bit your lip, thinking, “I could-” You couldn’t articulate your words properly, “I want us to both feel good.”

You saying that was all Mirage needed to hear. Before you knew it you were half naked, and Mirage had his spike out. Your shirt was still on, but your bottoms were thrown by Mirage to the side. You had asked him to not destroy them. He proved to be a good listener.

Mirage positioned you against his spike. He leaned back, keeping you steady, and watching you as you started to move. Since you were quite a bit smaller than Mirage, and knew you could not feasibly take his spike, he had decided it would be best for the both of you if you just would grind against it.

You started to move, pushing yourself along the spike. As you reached the head of it, your thighs would tense together and you could feel Mirage twitching under you. You would slide back down his spike, your clit rubbing against it. You let out a loud moan and cried out Mirage’s name.

“Fuck,” You whined as you hand grabbed for Mirage’s forearm, keeping yourself upright. Your legs were going to be sore the next day. But at that moment you did not care. As you pushed yourself up and slid your way back down Mirage’s spike again, you were getting closer and closer to release. “Baby,” You whimpered, “I’m gonna-”

As soon as you said ‘baby’ Mirage was close to losing it. His hips bucked upwards and you were sure the noise he made was going to be heard a mile away. His grip on you tightened and you came hard and fast, all over his spike. You did not stop grinding against him though, not until Mirage came himself.

You watched as Mirage’s optics seemed to fizzle out, he seemed to be short circuiting momentarily. When he whimpered you were sure you could orgasm again just from that alone. Transfluid came from his spike and your grinding began to slow.

“Don’t-” Mirage’s optics were blue again, and staring straight at you, “Don’t stop.”

“Mirage,” Your voice was soft as you were growing tired, “I’m too sensitive.”

Mirage seemed to realize his grip on you was not as soft as it once was and he let go, letting you slide down onto his leg. When you felt him lift your shirt and you heard him let out a little gasp you looked down at your side. You noticed a bruise forming, one that resembled a not so small hand, and you felt yourself snort.

“This isn’t funny!” Mirage was not laughing, “I hurt you!”

“Mirage,” You reassured him, trying to steady yourself on his thigh, “it’s a bruise, it’s gonna heal. The way you held me was kinda hot, anyway.” Mirage was conflicted. “Let’s just hope the others don’t see it…”

Something clicked, “Wait, if they do see it, they’ll know-” Mirage looked ecstatic.

“Mirage! I am not going to show off this bruise so everyone knows that I was with you.” You shook your head. “But-” You put a finger up, “If someone asks I won’t deny it…”

#valveplug #tf mirage #rotb mirage #mirage #mirage smut #mirage x reader #transformers smut #transformers x reader

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pedge-page · 4 months

Text

Joel Miller x F!Reader - Piss Kink #4

if you're feeling bold, can be read with more Piss kink #1, #2, #3, or alone.

Summary: Joel entices you home with a uniquely fun hommade toy that he's been edging himself with.

Warnings: pisskink! , pill-filled condom, sending nudes ish, nipple play, sub!Joel returns!, male masturbation, mirror masturbation, assisted masturbation, overstimulation, degrading lanauge towards Joel, this one is all about Joel

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Work fucking sucks when you’re horny as shit.

While you rot away at a desk 5 days a week, from 9-5 with limited days off, you get a bit envious of Joel’s flexible schedule where he can pick his own contracts, his own projects, and work his own hours at his own fee.

Must be nice to be a solid brick wall of meat.

And he doesn’t make it any better. Having your phone buzz off at your desk literally every 5 seconds with pictures of his scruffy head waking up at 9:57am, his homemade sausage links and pancakes, his feet propped up on the coffee table while sipping away your coffee in your mug that you forgot because you were running late!

You: Fuck off, lazy ass

Joel: come home and I’ll fuck your ass all day :P

You: do you have any real plans today other than being a little shit?

There’s 15 minutes of silence from his end. Enough that you’re pretty far into a project you couldn’t get off the ground, until there’s a new chime vibrating from your phone.

Joel: video attachment

You bite your lips, hovering over the file icon. This could be just another “Joel enjoying his day off” …

or a “Joel enjoying his day off.”

Not risking it, you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in the stall.

The video plays, and you can make out Joel’s big fat blurry fingers blocking half the camera as he angles the phone on the sink vanity, facing himself in the mirror focus sense. He backs away, and unzips his jeans. His cock is only half hard, but that doesn’t deter him from pumping it lazily in his hand, digging in the drawer off camera looking for something.

It’s not until he’s ripping off a condom with his teeth that you’re very intrigued.

“Got a present for ya when you come home,” he smirks into the camera.

He rolls the plastic over his much harder cock now, pulling it tight all the way to the base, stretching it over his thick length.

Joel’s not one to use condoms, so this is—new.

He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he pumps his dick with short jerks. His thumb teases over the clear covered tip. there’s some sweet little noises you know you’re missing because the mic doesn’t pick it up, but by the way his brows furrow, his lips part with eyes closed, you know he’s feeling dirty and good.

He lets out a strong groan, and the condom starts inflating quickly as he relives his urine. “FUck—fuck , shit, it’s filling up fast.”

You hold in a gasp because fuck yeah he’s right. The condom expands rapidly as yellow liquid quickly pools in the empty nub at the top before over coming the underside.

“Mmm—ah—ah-ahh-yeahfuck baby—its’ warm. Warm like you,” he grunts, smiling. He tilts his head back and moans, thrusting his hips a bit more like he wants to fuck it.

He breathes shallowly when it’s over. The condom now tightly packed with warm golden piss around his aching length like a thick balloon, not much larger than a short zucchini but still impressively bulging.

He jerks over himself a little bit, watching the liquid bounce with such inertia it takes a moment to even out. It should be disgusting, really, watching him play with himself with his own piss like a pocket pussy, were it not for the tight clench of your thighs and throb between your legs.

“Reminds me of ya tummy when I filled ya full of it the other day.”

He starts to pull his jeans back up, careful to tuck the full package into his crock area before zipping it up cautiously. Two little hops and everything falls into place. He groans as he manages the button over his waist.

He pats his new bulge before winking into the camera and the video ends.

You don’t even realize you were biting your finger nails while sitting on the toilet seat in the stall. Your skirt bunches up over your legs as you spread them. Fuck, you can’t touch yourself at work!

Just as you’re about to write an extremely lengthly curse off to Joel, another image attachment comes in:

Joel lying on the couch with the camera facing down towards his feet, the evident bulge still packed tight in his head with his girth hand gripping at it through his jeans.

Joel: Warm n tight, just like your sweet little cunt :)

Another video comes in, and there’s barely any intuition in you left to ignore it as you’re hitting play so quickly.

He’s positioned the phone in front of him again at the couch, folding laundry causally with his legs spread wide. The bulge in his pants, however, is much bigger. Each uncomfortable shift only elicits a whimper from him, grinding into his palm to adjust the position but only turning him on more. He leans back and unbuttons the pants. The zipper practically falls away on its own to give room to the massive piss filled condom, shaped like a droopy sack, it’s been desperately trying to hold together.

He sighs in relief, jiggling the balloon. It’s now the length of a fat cucumber, sagging to the cushion from the weight.

“Shit. This is a fuckin’ strong ass condom, baby. Feels like I’m bout to burst everywhere.”

He continues to smack it, jerk it, play with it like a silicon boob and not like it’s his own urine filling a condom and drawing his poor dick, still hard as a rock and an angry shade of red infused with the yellow tint of the sloshing liquid. His leg bounces, both of you hypnotized at the way the latex ripple with each wave.

“Can’t wait for you to come home and see how big it’s gonna get in your hand.” He cups his balls underneath while fisting his warm and wet pocket pussy. It jiggles obscenely in his hand, his hips thrusting into it until his tummy tense and he stills. You can just barely see the little air bubble at the top get smaller as he relieves himself more. His eyes roll back, feeling the warmth surround his meat like living inside your cunt.

The video ends, and a second image is waiting for you:

Joel standing with his top belt button undone but the zipper struggling to stay up, holding his fat bulge that now has taken over to drooping down his thighs.

Joel: Fucking Christ baby, you see how fucking tight this is?

You don’t open the last video attachment, as you’re already packing your computer away and telling your manager you’re not feeling well, zipping to your car and speeding home.

Joel’s cock is in a constant state of pain and pleasure all day. For one, his piss is keeping everything so fucking warm, unlike anything he’s felt regularly wrapped around his cock, stuffed in his pants. But on the other hand, his dick has been trapped inside a warm wet fluid substance for over two hours non stop hard, and he’s ready to cum geysers.

He considers whether waiting all day for you to come home for his “present” is going to be worth it when he hears keys being entered into the front entrance.

He’s standing right there the moment you open the door. He can tell you rushed with the state of your wrinkled shirt half untucked, messy hair and even more evident—the ferocious look in your eyes.

You wrap your arms around him and hug him close. He lets out a tiny sigh, feeling your middle press against his crotch tightly. To your delight, it’s still there, all packed tight and warm, crammed so stiffly it could burst with any more pressure. Your hand roughly grabs at the squishy bulge in his jeans and Joel stutters a gasp, then a little moan with his eyes closed in bliss. You can just barely hear the quiet rush of liquid filling into the condom even more.

“Did you just piss some more?” You ask, your hand rubbings soothing circles over the bulge.

He nods, lips parted sinfully with dazed eyes now that you’re here and in charge.

“You’re a naughty boy, sending that shit at work. Making me come home early to take care of this,” you whisper sensually in your honey silk voice that has his veins shivering from excitement and trouble.

“Nnmgg—mmmm, I wanted you here. And you want its too,” he snickers.

You tug the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a harsh kiss. He groans into your month, pulling you closer and grinding himself into your secure body like a horny teen. His body melts in to your touch, more needy to have you here than you were to have him.

Your tongue holds his hostage while you busy your fingers and unbutton his jeans. The piss filled condom spills out of there like it was desperate to breathe.

Joel lets out a pathetic sigh of relief. You continue to palm him while he pants into your mouth, all the pent of pressure finally having room to escape, but still trapping his thick cock. It’s fucking heavy, the weight of his hot urine filling the bag over and over again, latex stretched so tight. “It’s.. s-so heavy—bout to burst,” he rasps, eyes shut into your shoulder as you hold it for him.

You smirk against his lips, continuing your torture in your hand while he shivers.

You reach below the moist cucumber sack and roll his balls in your hand, tugging gently to get him to follow you.

He obeys beautifully. Leaping after you as you massage him, trailing so close that he’s wafting your hair product, twitching in your palm.

“Sit,” you command, pointing to the floor in the bedroom, directly in front of your floor length mirror.

He sinks to the group, staring at his reflection. So pretty and small beneath you. You slide right behind him, hands slowly tracing along his inner thighs, making him involuntarily man spread.

You grasp the urine condom and start tugging, jerking it in your hand as you pinch his nipples under his shirt with your free hand.

“You look like a fucking pervert and a whore.”

He whimpers and melts into your touch. Tense in his cock and chest but relaxed everywhere else. Despite the mass of the man in front of you, practically blocking your view of his beautiful twitching body, you perch over his arm to watch.

His eyes keep drifting back, pleasure consuming him after edging all day. But he keeps snapping forward to look at how you’re tearing him apart.

“Only fucking disgusting boys do this type of shit, Joel. Is that what you are?”

He nods vigorously, hips cantering forward.

The sloshing of liquid grows louder as you pump over the slimy sack faster. His shirt rides up, his soft belly flexing with each painful breath he forces going in and out.

“Can you fill this up some more? While I’l jerking you off? Don’t cum yet. Want more of your foul liquid to fill this thing. It’s so fucking big, Joel. see how much we can pack into here before it explodes!” You laugh.

He grits his teeth, and you still your movement. With a few assisted tugs wrapped around your own hand, he’s moaning out pornographically, and you can see through the latex the extra stream of gold forced out of the tip of his dick and expanding the hot condom. It’s big enough now that you need Joel to help wrap his other hand around it. The two of you jacking him off together.

“Such a fucking good boy, Miller. My piss hungry boy.”

If you weren’t so fucking turned on by your whimpering mess of a boyfriend you’d be cringing so hard. But Joel just somehow always manages to bring that side out of you.

“Arrgghhhhh--aahhh—oh—ohh—ohf—oh fuck! Fuck it baby, yeah—YEAH—unfff I’m—I’m gonna—“ he’s blabbering incoherently, nodding and shaking his head, overstimulated and yet so close to getting what his whole body is begging for. The condom bounces along as the two of you fall out of rhythm, smashing against his pelvis and balls, his tip stretching across the clear seal before being drowned in a vacuum of piss.

You accidentally pinch the condom as you pull it close to him again. Coupled with being filled to its limit, the entire thing snaps in a giant explosion of the piss damn breaking, ursting all over Joel’s torso and thighs and the floor.

The impact of it all has his hips thrusting forward, his jaw dropping open in a surprised gasp when he cums into the free air—ropes of it shooting so far onto the mirror. You don’t stop, despite the wet mess all over him and tattered condom shred still clinging between your digits, jerking his wet cock to completion and tilting his hips up so that his creamy spend shoots on his pouty lower lip.

He licks away the salty tang of his orgasm, breathing down from his high. You both observe him in the mirror: clothes drenched from chest to knee, splatters of of his spend adorning him and the mirror like overly-excited icing on a tres-leches soaked cake.

He’s shaking from the aftershock. So overly whipped and leaning further back against you for support. You hold his cock, now finally able to breathe, as you kiss along his jaw and neck. “You’re so gross, I fucking love it,” you tease, nipping at his ear.

He smiles with you, sighing up to the ceiling with blissful sedation.

He stays pliant in your arms, head resting against your breasts. It’s quiet, minus the love sucks you’re dressing all over his face with your lipstick.

He opens his eyes. “How about a hug after such a loooooong day at work, baby?”

You stop kissing him and lean away, shaking your head.

“No? Are you sure? I think you need it,” he hums, a devious look in his eyes as he starts to turn on you.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You warn. You immediately scramble to your feet and try to run out the door, but Joel’s caught up in no time, bear hugging you from behind.

“Awwwww, isn’t this soooo nice, baby?”

“Gross, gross, gross!” You laugh, wiggling unsuccessfully as you feel his urine seeping from his clothes to your beautiful white blouse and ironed skirt. You shiver at the warm, disgusting feeling of it all.

“Fucking nasty perverted piss boy.”

He giggles into your hair as you admin defeat, swaying with him in a tight embrace.

“With my fucking nasty perverted piss girl.”

Permanent taglist

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fic #pisskink!joel #piss kink #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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mostlysignssomeportents · 13 days

Text

Real innovation vs Silicon Valley nonsense

This is the LAST DAY to get my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

If there was any area where we needed a lot of "innovation," it's in climate tech. We've already blown through numerous points-of-no-return for a habitable Earth, and the pace is accelerating.

Silicon Valley claims to be the epicenter of American innovation, but what passes for innovation in Silicon Valley is some combination of nonsense, climate-wrecking tech, and climate-wrecking nonsense tech. Forget Jeff Hammerbacher's lament about "the best minds of my generation thinking about how to make people click ads." Today's best-paid, best-trained technologists are enlisted to making boobytrapped IoT gadgets:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/24/record-scratch/#autoenshittification

Planet-destroying cryptocurrency scams:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/15/your-new-first-name/#that-dagger-tho

NFT frauds:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/06/crypto-copyright-%f0%9f%a4%a1%f0%9f%92%a9/

Or planet-destroying AI frauds:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

If that was the best "innovation" the human race had to offer, we'd be fucking doomed.

But – as Ryan Cooper writes for The American Prospect – there's a far more dynamic, consequential, useful and exciting innovation revolution underway, thanks to muscular public spending on climate tech:

https://prospect.org/environment/2024-05-30-green-energy-revolution-real-innovation/

The green energy revolution – funded by the Bipartisan Infrastructure Act, the Inflation Reduction Act, the CHIPS Act and the Science Act – is accomplishing amazing feats, which are barely registering amid the clamor of AI nonsense and other hype. I did an interview a while ago about my climate novel The Lost Cause and the interviewer wanted to know what role AI would play in resolving the climate emergency. I was momentarily speechless, then I said, "Well, I guess maybe all the energy used to train and operate models could make it much worse? What role do you think it could play?" The interviewer had no answer.

Here's brief tour of the revolution:

2023 saw 32GW of new solar energy come online in the USA (up 50% from 2022);

Wind increased from 118GW to 141GW;

Grid-scale batteries doubled in 2023 and will double again in 2024;

EV sales increased from 20,000 to 90,000/month.

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/blog/2023/12/19/building-a-thriving-clean-energy-economy-in-2023-and-beyond/

The cost of clean energy is plummeting, and that's triggering other areas of innovation, like using "hot rocks" to replace fossil fuel heat (25% of overall US energy consumption):

https://rondo.com/products

Increasing our access to cheap, clean energy will require a lot of materials, and material production is very carbon intensive. Luckily, the existing supply of cheap, clean energy is fueling "green steel" production experiments:

https://www.wdam.com/2024/03/25/americas-1st-green-steel-plant-coming-perry-county-1b-federal-investment/

Cheap, clean energy also makes it possible to recover valuable minerals from aluminum production tailings, a process that doubles as site-remediation:

https://interestingengineering.com/innovation/toxic-red-mud-co2-free-iron

And while all this electrification is going to require grid upgrades, there's lots we can do with our existing grid, like power-line automation that increases capacity by 40%:

https://www.npr.org/2023/08/13/1187620367/power-grid-enhancing-technologies-climate-change

It's also going to require a lot of storage, which is why it's so exciting that we're figuring out how to turn decommissioned mines into giant batteries. During the day, excess renewable energy is channeled into raising rock-laden platforms to the top of the mine-shafts, and at night, these unspool, releasing energy that's fed into the high-availability power-lines that are already present at every mine-site:

https://www.euronews.com/green/2024/02/06/this-disused-mine-in-finland-is-being-turned-into-a-gravity-battery-to-store-renewable-ene

Why are we paying so much attention to Silicon Valley pump-and-dumps and ignoring all this incredible, potentially planet-saving, real innovation? Cooper cites a plausible explanation from the Apperceptive newsletter:

https://buttondown.email/apperceptive/archive/destructive-investing-and-the-siren-song-of/

Silicon Valley is the land of low-capital, low-labor growth. Software development requires fewer people than infrastructure and hard goods manufacturing, both to get started and to run as an ongoing operation. Silicon Valley is the place where you get rich without creating jobs. It's run by investors who hate the idea of paying people. That's why AI is so exciting for Silicon Valley types: it lets them fantasize about making humans obsolete. A company without employees is a company without labor issues, without messy co-determination fights, without any moral consideration for others. It's the natural progression for an industry that started by misclassifying the workers in its buildings as "contractors," and then graduated to pretending that millions of workers were actually "independent small businesses."

It's also the natural next step for an industry that hates workers so much that it will pretend that their work is being done by robots, and then outsource the labor itself to distant Indian call-centers (no wonder Indian techies joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians"):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/17/fake-it-until-you-dont-make-it/#twenty-one-seconds

Contrast this with climate tech: this is a profoundly physical kind of technology. It is labor intensive. It is skilled. The workers who perform it have power, both because they are so far from their employers' direct oversight and because these fed-funded sectors are more likely to be unionized than Silicon Valley shops. Moreover, climate tech is capital intensive. All of those workers are out there moving stuff around: solar panels, wires, batteries.

Climate tech is infrastructural. As Deb Chachra writes in her must-read 2023 book How Infrastructure Works, infrastructure is a gift we give to our descendants. Infrastructure projects rarely pay for themselves during the lives of the people who decide to build them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/17/care-work/#charismatic-megaprojects

Climate tech also produces gigantic, diffused, uncapturable benefits. The "social cost of carbon" is a measure that seeks to capture how much we all pay as polluters despoil our shared world. It includes the direct health impacts of burning fossil fuels, and the indirect costs of wildfires and extreme weather events. The "social savings" of climate tech are massive:

https://arstechnica.com/science/2024/05/climate-and-health-benefits-of-wind-and-solar-dwarf-all-subsidies/

For every MWh of renewable power produced, we save $100 in social carbon costs. That's $100 worth of people not sickening and dying from pollution, $100 worth of homes and habitats not burning down or disappearing under floodwaters. All told, US renewables have delivered $250,000,000,000 (one quarter of one trillion dollars) in social carbon savings over the past four years:

https://arstechnica.com/science/2024/05/climate-and-health-benefits-of-wind-and-solar-dwarf-all-subsidies/

In other words, climate tech is unselfish tech. It's a gift to the future and to the broad public. It shares its spoils with workers. It requires public action. By contrast, Silicon Valley is greedy tech that is relentlessly focused on the shortest-term returns that can be extracted with the least share going to labor. It also requires massive public investment, but it also totally committed to giving as little back to the public as is possible.

No wonder America's richest and most powerful people are lining up to endorse and fund Trump:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-05-30-democracy-deshmocracy-mega-financiers-flocking-to-trump/

Silicon Valley epitomizes Stafford Beer's motto that "the purpose of a system is what it does." If Silicon Valley produces nothing but planet-wrecking nonsense, grifty scams, and planet-wrecking, nonsensical scams, then these are all features of the tech sector, not bugs.

As Anil Dash writes:

Driving change requires us to make the machine want something else. If the purpose of a system is what it does, and we don’t like what it does, then we have to change the system.

https://www.anildash.com/2024/05/29/systems-the-purpose-of-a-system/

To give climate tech the attention, excitement, and political will it deserves, we need to recalibrate our understanding of the world. We need to have object permanence. We need to remember just how few people were actually using cryptocurrency during the bubble and apply that understanding to AI hype. Only 2% of Britons surveyed in a recent study use AI tools:

https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c511x4g7x7jo

If we want our tech companies to do good, we have to understand that their ground state is to create planet-wrecking nonsense, grifty scams, and planet-wrecking, nonsensical scams. We need to make these companies small enough to fail, small enough to jail, and small enough to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

We need to hold companies responsible, and we need to change the microeconomics of the board room, to make it easier for tech workers who want to do good to shout down the scammers, nonsense-peddlers and grifters:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

Yesterday, a federal judge ruled that the FTC could hold Amazon executives personally liable for the decision to trick people into signing up for Prime, and for making the unsubscribe-from-Prime process into a Kafka-as-a-service nightmare:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/05/amazon-execs-may-be-personally-liable-for-tricking-users-into-prime-sign-ups/

Imagine how powerful a precedent this could set. The Amazon employees who vociferously objected to their bosses' decision to make Prime as confusing as possible could have raised the objection that doing this could end up personally costing those bosses millions of dollars in fines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

We need to make climate tech, not Big Tech, the center of our scrutiny and will. The climate emergency is so terrifying as to be nearly unponderable. Science fiction writers are increasingly being called upon to try to frame this incomprehensible risk in human terms. SF writer (and biologist) Peter Watts's conversation with evolutionary biologist Dan Brooks is an eye-opener:

https://thereader.mitpress.mit.edu/the-collapse-is-coming-will-humanity-adapt/

They draw a distinction between "sustainability" meaning "what kind of technological fixes can we come up with that will allow us to continue to do business as usual without paying a penalty for it?" and sustainability meaning, "what changes in behavior will allow us to save ourselves with the technology that is possible?"

Writing about the Watts/Brooks dialog for Naked Capitalism, Yves Smith invokes William Gibson's The Peripheral:

With everything stumbling deeper into a ditch of shit, history itself become a slaughterhouse, science had started popping. Not all at once, no one big heroic thing, but there were cleaner, cheaper energy sources, more effective ways to get carbon out of the air, new drugs that did what antibiotics had done before…. Ways to print food that required much less in the way of actual food to begin with. So everything, however deeply fucked in general, was lit increasingly by the new, by things that made people blink and sit up, but then the rest of it would just go on, deeper into the ditch. A progress accompanied by constant violence, he said, by sufferings unimaginable.

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2024/05/preparing-for-collapse-why-the-focus-on-climate-energy-sustainability-is-destructive.html

Gibson doesn't think this is likely, mind, and even if it's attainable, it will come amidst "unimaginable suffering."

But the universe of possible technologies is quite large. As Chachra points out in How Infrastructure Works, we could give every person on Earth a Canadian's energy budget (like an American's, but colder), by capturing a mere 0.4% of the solar radiation that reaches the Earth's surface every day. Doing this will require heroic amounts of material and labor, especially if we're going to do it without destroying the planet through material extraction and manufacturing.

These are the questions that we should be concerning ourselves with: what behavioral changes will allow us to realize cheap, abundant, green energy? What "innovations" will our society need to focus on the things we need, rather than the scams and nonsense that creates Silicon Valley fortunes?

How can we use planning, and solidarity, and codetermination to usher in the kind of tech that makes it possible for us to get through the climate bottleneck with as little death and destruction as possible? How can we use enforcement, discernment, and labor rights to thwart the enshittificatory impulses of Silicon Valley's biggest assholes?

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/30/posiwid/#social-cost-of-carbon

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master-xochimilli · 8 months

Text

◇ About + DNI ◇

Currently: Offline (Not answeing dms!!! Very slowly answering asks!!! I <3 being mentally ill!!! /s)

Asks closed !!! Inbox is way too fucking full lmao

Welcome to my blog~ My name is Xochimilli, though I'm sure some of you would be eager to call me Master or Sir

A 21 year old switchy vers genderqueer boygirl cat thing, It/He pronouns (yes capitalized :3)

My asks and dms are closed, because I'm a silly socially burnt out bitch

If you cannot handle different time zones and the fact others have work and responsibilities don't even bother. Asks will not be answered right away, please take situation/time sensitive asks with a grain of salt.

Time Zone: GMT -6 • Mexico City

♡ Pet

My pet is the lovely @onetiredpup, or 🫀 puppy who I lovee and adore so so soooo much 💛 THE BOYFRIEND YIPPPEE YAYY HOORAYY :3 💛💛💛💛💛 A A AAAAAA AA AAAAAAA KISSING HIM KISSING HER HUGGING THEM SO TIGHTLY

◇Anon Pets◇

•🪐 • 🩻 • 🦇 • 🪲 • 🐻 • 🐼 • ⚰️ • 🌱 • doe • 🧜‍♀️ • 🫧 • 🌻 • 👑 • 🦦 • 🌌 • 🥺 • 🤍 • 🐾 • 🍰 • 🍑 • 🪣 • 👑🖤 • 🍊 • 🍤 • 🐈‍⬛ • 🪷 • 🐞 • 🐬 • 🌟 • 🏩 • ✴️

◇ DNI ◇

Minors and ageless blogs fuck off, I will block you.

Typical DNI, dont be a bitch to others. Raceplay, and ED blogs also dni, for personal reasons, I can and will block anyone I want to, this is my safe space.

I also just reccomend not to interact if you just want the horny!!! I will rb anything n everything I want <3

◇ Kinks ◇ Limits under cut ◇

Kinks◇

Petplay

Impact play

Soft Degradation + Praise

Bondage

Piss/Omo

Somno

Breeding

Pregnancy

Edging + Cum Denial

Free Use

CNC (emphasis on the consent)

Sub/Dom

Knifeplay

Intox (only alcohol)

Biting/Marking

Primal

Royalty play

Lactation/Milking

Blood

Cockwarming

Objectum

Pain/Physical Injury

Possesiveness

Forcemasc

Monsterfucking

Gore (will not post about it)

Cannibalism (will not post about it)

Limits◇

Apart from what is included in the DNI, do not offer to include these. I either don't enjoy them personally or can't do/write for them !!!

Use of the word "rape" in cnc (literally a fucking victim of it, me panicking and having flashbacks about over it will not be fun so stfu!!!)

Scat

Inflation

Raceplay

Brat taming (I am too soft for it)

Vomit

Cheating

AB/DL

Hypno

Sissy

Weight gain/Loss + Feederism

Subby Xochi shit->

Some stuff about when I'm subby because holy shit a lot of similar asks about me being a subby kitty recently lmao, keep in mind I am very much soft when in a sub mindset

Kinks

Petplay (kitty maybeee bunny), incredibly soft degradation, lots of praise, piss, somno, breeding, pregnancy, edging/cum denial, free use, alcohol intox, biting/marking, royalty play (i just wanna be a princess whose cared for), laction/milking, cockwarming, possesiveness, forcemasc, mommy/daddy

Terms I use

I literally don't give a shit what words you use for my body but I do enjoy enjoy having my general hole and cock area called princess parts and kitty parts when subby lol also my clit is my cock but like, my cock is my clit yknow?

My gender is cool, call me a good girl or princess, along with most masc terms!!! Kitty words also get my mind all WOAHS

Ummm, aaaa aa aaaaa fuck I don't know just writing about how I liked being refered to as "kitty" and "princess" gets me blushing LMAOOOO I am just babie fr, I literally cry when I cum,,, I just like being cared for and given sooo much attention and kind of spoiled and babied with lotssss of praise and words of affection,,, im dom for the horny but subby for the being cared for lmao,,, being subby lets me not worry about anything but being good so yayayayaaaa get me to just relax for once

Oki that's it, also if you are going to try to dom me, nice try but you'll probably fucking fail LMAOO I am so mentally ill I feel guilty subbing sometimes,,, also I probably need to feel hella safe with you because damn I get so emotional,,, okay that's it lol

My puppy's good boy chart ♡

Good boy chart for my lovely puppyyyyy, my sweet boyfriend @onetiredpup 💛 So so sooo excited for using it with him !!!! Will update it as they get stickers :3 so everyone can see what a good boy she is~

based off @/droolypupboy's chart !!!!

◇ More:

I am literally just queer, in gender and sexuality, I am just a queer fuck !!!! My gender is just I am God, because I fucking am God. Because someone asked: I am kind of pretty sure I am monoamorous, I will engange in sexual play but no romantic stuff :3 -> have a boyfriebd. I have a boyfriend. Did I mention I have a boyfriend? I have a boyfriend and I love him I love my boyfriend with my whole being 💛 My boyfriend my beloved kissing her face right now actually because I love them and my blog is kinda obviously all about him lmao

Mostly a top dom, but really a nice switch vers at heart and would love switching it up if a person came along and put me in place like the soft kitty I am

Will be referred to as sir and master. Only my puppy darling can call me daddy.

All pet/master, d/s relations are for fun but I feel very strongly and I will care about you and probably count you as a close friend :3

Autistic and ADHD, and mentally ill, and chronically pained– Age regressor will always log out before regressing. Also a full time worker, don't fret if I don't answer right away~

Living in CDMX, long periods of silence are usually due to getting stuck in traffic or power outages, or when regressing.

◇Xochi is a real person I am not horny all the time lmao

A part time librarian! Head of the children's section of the library I work at, love taking care of kids and helping them get interested in reading. Also part time English teacher! Really just doing things I like nowdays~

I'm a pretty big softie at heart, expert crybaby, expert emotion feeler, expert at caring too much. I am also good at being dumb and laughing too much at stupid shit :3

I like stuff apart from masturbating and getting others horny~ Like drawing, Sky: Children of the Light, Sanrio (My Melody my beloved ♡), Percy Jackson, Artemis Fowl, Pretty Cure, plushies and cooking to name a few things I like, so don't be afraid to just talk about my interests! I'm not scary I promise :]

Understanding and open, don't like me being too rough? Go ahead and tell me— Will gladly compliment and comfort you, don't be shy! Also be a sweetheart and tell me if you get excited hm?

◇ Tags ◇

#xochimilli writes -> Orignal text posts

#xochimilli answers◇ -> Answering asks

#xochimilli comfort ->Only comfort more sfw

#xochimilli speaks ->Me bitching about stuff

#xochi is the breeding bitch -> Bottom/Sub POV writings

#important◇ -> important shit lmao

#☆lynn no mires☆ ->irl Xochi, audios and pictures

♡

#🫀puppy-> For my love, my bf, my sweetheart, the one who fills my whole heart and my sunshine :3 ♡

#🫀💛 -> reblogs that make me think of them ♡

☆

♱𝖋𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖔𝖙♱ <- matchy matchy for my bestie my beloved HOLAAA SEÑOR GACHA AAAAAAA

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fattystoriez · 2 days

Text

Zack was a successful fitness trainer in his area, putting his muscles to good use. Zack was notorious for being self centered and vain, hating on any fat person he could see. Today after Zack’s workout, he was feeling extra sore, so Zack decided to go home early. He got home to his roomate Daniel, who had a friend over, the friend being quite chubby. Zack was surprised that he’d have someone over who was so fat, but then again Daniel had never been as vain as Zack.

Zack got into the shower, the hot water feeling good on his tense aching muscles. As Zack lathered up his body he traced over his juicy pecs, washboard abs and taught bubble butt. Zack getting back into his day clothes he walked out of the shower to see Daniel’s friend shirtless in the living room, shaking his chubby belly. “Oh uh… hey” Zack blurted. “Where’s Daniel”

“Oh hey, you’re Zack right?” The friend said, “Daniel went to the work.” Zack forgot Daniel worked today, but why was this guy still here?

“Oh, and you were just planning on staying?” Zack asked.

“If that’s cool with you, I could actually use some help.” The friend walked up to Zack, pressing his belly against Zack’s abdomen. “I just really need someone to worship this belly.” The room started to get hazy, Zack’s mind began to fog up.

“Oh uh… I’m sorry dude I don’t… I’m not into…” Zack didn’t know what to say, the friend pushed Zack onto the couch and pressed his belly into Zack’s face. “Mppphhh” Zack tried to protest, but the belly muffled his speech.

“Yeah you like that fat belly don’t you” The friend was really grinding the belly into Zack’s face, this is when the changes began to happen. Zack’s belly began to fill with blubbery fat, pound after pound, it was like the friends belly was filling him up. Muscular arms buried in soft jiggly fat, his pecs now moobs that sit on top of his growing belly. Zack’s jawline suffered too, rounding out, becoming the panicle of obesity.

“S-stop… you’re making me so fat…” Zack groaned, he knew he should’ve been worried but once he started playing with his inflated belly, Zack was falling in love. Before he could get any of the friend’s information, he was gone. Zack was left on the couch to play with his blubber until his roommate come to find him. Who was the friend? How does Daniel know him? Zack would’ve tried to answer these questions if he wasn’t too busy playing with his pillowy belly.

To be continued?

#male weight gain story #weight gain story #weight gain tf #fat gain tf #male weight gain stories #male tf #jock to chub

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tellmeallaboutit · 1 month

Text

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 3

TW for the chapter: self-harm, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, masturbation, problematic mom-daughter relationship

After spending forty minutes on the tube and another twenty squeezed onto a bus with sweaty, boundary-ignorant strangers, you finally got home from your coffee date with the devil.

In that time, you had more or less come to terms with the fact that you had truly lost it.

This left you with three options: First, you could go to a psychiatrist (how do you find a psychiatrist?) and tell the truth. Your laptop is talking to you, a devil is stalking you with the clear intention of fucking you and taking your soul, in no particular order. They'd chalk it up to psychosexual mania, Freudian theories of repressed desires and frustrations. Prescriptions for anti-psychotics and anti-hallucinogens would follow while they dug into your very much fatherless past.

The second thing a person haunted by the devil might do is go to a priest. The last time you set foot in a church was when your mother could make you go, so it would be as much a surprise for the priest to see you there as it would be for you to do so again. Also, you can't help but imagine walking into a confessional only to find Raphael smirking back at you from behind the lattice screen, which brings you back to option one.

The third option was to accept your madness and play along with it. It had already made the last week of your life more exciting than the entire preceding twenty-seven years combined.

It wasn't a difficult choice.

Since your arrival at home, you had not let your phone leave your side for a single second, not in the shower, not on the toilet. Meanwhile, you had begun your preparations for the rendezvous, and you had begun by scheduling your torture for the very next day.

Your tormentor was a petite Vietnamese girl who promised her methods would not hurt, and the execution chamber was a rundown salon down the street that definitely condoned illegal employment practices.

Not like you could afford anything nicer anyway.

You could barely scrape together enough cash for waxing (damn inflation), but imagining that Raphael had watched you straddle a Bad Dragon dildo all natural- unshaved legs and the rest - was way more mortifying than the idea that the devil himself was watching.

After the Vietnamese girl ripped hair from your most sensitive areas, you felt prepared for any infernal punishment. When questioned if it hurt, you lied through clenched teeth.

The rest of the Sunday was a shopping blur. The last time you went on a date was some nine months ago (prior to BG3 coming out), it lasted an hour but left enough of an impression to delete your profile from Bumble, so you were completely out of stock of anything half-way decent, not to speak decent enough for a date with Raphael.

You consulted with the Devil's Den about what to wear and what lingerie Raphael would prefer, which didn't help much as everyone had their own interpretation of his preferences, ranging from none at all to him wearing lingerie himself.

At the start of the working week, your bank balance had dropped by four hundred euros and you still hadn't received any calls on your mobile phone.

Wasn't there a rule about waiting three days? Whoever came up with this shit should spend his afterlife as a lemure.

You went through the motions at work, barely awake during two team conference calls, only to be told you looked "exhausted". This, despite having spent the entire previous day in a facial mask. To add insult to injury, you were scheduled for a "personal development" meeting next week.

In between the conference calls, you took the time to write two essays on Tumblr. The first was about how Raphael would easily conquer the Nine Hells and anyone who doubted that was an idiot (you didn't actually write that, but you certainly meant it).

The second was about how Tav was the real villain for robbing Raphael. Maybe these posts would flatter Raphael enough to prompt him into calling you. Both got a decent amount of likes and reblogs, but not the attention you were hoping for.

On Monday night, you spent a good two hours staring at your phone, desperately waiting for some strange email, some kind of notification, however unsettling it might be.

It's not like Raphael actually works for that bloody law firm, is it?

Or maybe, for devils, the usual waiting time for a call is a couple of years. After all, Raphael was angry for a dozen years that one time.

when you remember you have a mother call me hope you have a nice day

Well, you asked for a disturbing notification, and now you've got one. Your mother had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just one precisely aimed message. Despite being well acquainted with her tactics (which she vehemently denied having), they managed to hit their mark every time.

She wasn’t a bad person, no, far from it; God knows she had enough problems as a single mother in a small and predominantly Catholic town an hour's drive away.

She was the first in her family to go to university, but had to drop out when she became pregnant with you. Went through several terrible relationships, which she ended for your sake. You were her walking shattered dreams.

It hadn't been that long since you'd last spoken on the phone, maybe a week?

OK, a week was long.

“Hi mum," you sighed into your phone. "Sorry, I've been busy."

"With what?" her voice fizzed over the line, laced with a scepticism only a mother can muster.

A solid start.

"With adult life?" you said.

"Adult life is juggling a full-time job, a child and a house that needs constant attention, Anya. You don't have any of that."

"I have a full-time job, Mum, remember?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I know how 'busy' you IT people are. Anyway, I called to tell you something very important".

You were not IT people, you worked for an IT company, but for you mum, you were IT people and therefore by definition overpaid and underworked.

"I was at Nadine's", she said, and made a dramatic pause.

Oh great. Nadine, the human drain on your mother's savings, which were far from abundant. How your mother reconciled her devout Catholicism with regularly going to a fortune teller (and with getting pregnant at twenty out of wedlock) was one of the things that defied your comprehension. She had an intricate system, which only she would call logic, to justify these contradictions; you gave up trying to understand it long ago.

"Don't get upset - it wasn't about you or anything”, you mum said. “Your name just came up in conversation and we ended up doing a reading - just ONE reading, but it was... enlightening."

As every single reading so far.

"Yes?" you asked, not bothering to fake enthusiasm.

"Well..." She drew out the word. "The cards say you're going to meet someone special soon. A King of Pentacles, imagine! So, mature, financially secure, gallant…"

A gallant gentleman would not keep a lady dying for his call.

“There is more, Anja. There was also the Devil in the spread. Do you know what that means?"

You paused. "...the Devil himself is interested in me?"

Your mother let out a joyous laugh.

"Anya, sweetie, I love you, but I don't think THE Devil would be interested in you. Not this way, anyway”.

That stung a bit. After all these years of him supposedly seducing you into premarital sex and drugs, succeeding at the former and barely scratching the pot surface with the latter, and now he was suddenly not interested in you.

Well, that’s where you are wrong, mum. Hopefully.

"No, that means... Now I'm quoting Nadine here, Anya... Negative forces holding you back from reaching your full potential. NEGATIVE THINKING! That's what I've been saying all along!"

“Ah”, you said. “Right”.

You checked out and let the phone rest on the table on loudspeaker, allowing your mother to continue her monologue of small town gossip.The right-side neighbour was fooling around with someone else's wife, neighbour to the left doesn’t mow his lawn. You surfed on your laptop in the meanwhile.

queen-of-the-bored: now did you read that Raph smut I sent you

queen-of-the-bored: that one

You were hoping to get out of reading smut with Raphael and into living it. Ah, hell, maybe that would draw him out somehow. Maybe this would be about him and you, some meta stuff, a special surprise he wrote himself for you.

You opened AO3 and began to scan the warning triggers that preceded the chapter. "Non-con", "pillory confinement", "rough anal sex", "face fucking" and "forced urination", and that was just for starters.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

“Holy fuck”, you said, and promptly closed the web-page.

"Anya! Watch your mouth! But yes, you are right, of course”, your mom said . “All these years acting like she is the holy and mighty and knows best… ”

you: are you ok recommending stuff like that?

queen-of-the-bored: what queen-of-the-bored: come on now queen-of-the-bored: dude this you?

She sent a screenshot of your Tumblr post with five hundred likes and forty-one reblogs:

"I don't get Hope, I personally would LOVE Raphael to lock me in chains in his basement and do whatever he wants to me <3".

That was undeniably you. Was that what attracted Raphael to you? Is that what he came for?

A sudden epiphany dawned on you: you were far more vanilla than you had let on. Especially on the first date. You didn't want it to turn into a basement horror story. Well, maybe you did, but only if it went exactly according to your script (which categorically did not involve non-consensual rough anal sex), in the kind of basement you liked (stylishly infernal rather than Josef Fritzl one) and with thorough aftercare and lavish praise.

You weren't entirely convinced that this vision was in line with Raphael's preferences. You were not entirely sure what those preferences truly were, for that matter.

You scrubbed all traces of the fanfic from your browsing history and briefly toyed with the idea of posting something along the lines of 'GET THERAPY YOU SICK FUCK' in the comments - just to make sure Raphael knew exactly where you stood on the matter.

What you need to do is search for fanfics tagged with phrases like "Raphael spoils Tav with gifts and sweet nothings", "gentle" and "teeth-rotting fluff".

"And then she said, Anya... guess what, she said..."

***

Tuesday was the third day without a call.

If he did not call today, you decided, you would go to that bloody law firm to drag him out of a conference room and if he was not there, well... you might do the unspeakable.

You might rob the House of Hope for the first time in your life. A woman who has not been called by her favourite devil for three days in a row is a woman in severe mental crisis.

After spending some time day-dreaming your revenge, you finally reach for your phone while still lying in bed.

There were notifications waiting for you, not the ones you wanted. The Raphael romance petition (which you’d passionately signed thrice, using different IPs) had triumphed. The new update included a post-credits dinner and something extra.

The fandom was thrown into chaos upon hearing this announcement (though, truthfully, any news tended to do that). Fans heatedly argued about whether it was pandering, too much fan service, whether it trivialized victims of sexual assault or if it was simply bad taste.

The discord channel buzzed with chatter about that new scene - some dismissed it as too vanilla; others lamented that Larian backtracked on Raphael being a bottom; while some celebrated it as the best thing since Andrew Wincott had cooed "good girl" on a live stream.

In different circumstances, you would be overjoyed and congratulating dmgdgoods for the success of the petition. But now? It felt like cold leftovers in comparison to what you truly craved - seeing Raphael in person, feeling his touch and his breath against your skin.

Regardless, you decided to get ONE bloody dinner you had been promised.

To your dismay, your boss chose today, of all days, to make you work and make you hate your work. You had four useless conference calls during eight working hours, each one an hour apart.

The clock on your computer seemed trapped within some diabolical time warp.

You’d bring an audience with you, you thought as you absent-mindedly typed emails. That’s right, you’d bring an audience.

If Raphael decides to talk to you through the screen, well, there would be your solid proof you were not crazy - and a digital trace - and a message to the whole world that it was you, you, who were his special mouse among the thousands that would rush to House of Hope tonight.

If he doesn't, well… he isn’t calling you either.

You dropped everything the minute the clock struck five, and lectured the rest of your remaining team about the importance of work-life balance and the toxicity of corporate greed.

Then you fired up Twitch.

The witnesses, a twenty-strong user mob, were summoned from across the communities you were in; some you knew, some you guessed who it might be, and a couple of random users.

The House of Hope stood ready.

In the main hall, a table was set for two, draped in red velvet with silver candelabras and a centrepiece of blood-red roses; Larian clearly knew their audience - those who craved Raphael Romance would also enjoy a side dish of gothic horror.

This notion you would subscribe to.

"Ah, my little mouse," Raphael's voice crept into your ears the moment Tav teleported into his domain. "I've been expecting our rendezvous."

His tone was molten honey and made you forget for a moment your annoyance at his lack of calls.

Archdevils Supreme were, after all, notorious workaholics.

Raphael was in his cambion form, which you liked, but preferred the human one. Like this, he would barely fit into your room - how tall was he? Two ten? Two twenty? Your ceilings were two twenty. One flap of those wings could destroy your bookshelf.

The Twitch chat room was quiet; you threw out a test message that elicited a few half-hearted responses. Still there, good.

"I owe you, little mouse," Raphael continued in that rich baritone that brought back memories of the coffee shop. "I owe you your unwavering loyalty. Your commitment. Your trust."

Raphael paused for dramatic effect before adding: "I appreciate those who deal fairly with me, because I have only dealt fairly with you."

His words eerily echoed a recent essay you'd written; it brought a smile to your face as you reached out to touch him.

cross_my_heart: are you touching your screen? cross_my_heart: jeez man cross_my_heart has left the chat

Your Tav, a drow warlock (whom you imagined as Raphael's personal warlock), was wearing her most "why-am-I-here" expression, arms crossed over her chest. It drove you mad, that standard #2 emotion.

Then they ate; clunky, clearly afterthought animations rehashed from Karlach's date dinner. The food they were served (meat, meat, lots of meat) made your stomachs ache (you had been on a crash diet in the irrational hope of slimming down for the rendezvous).

"You were the one who gave me the Crown of Karsus. You gave me the power to claim worlds, my little mouse, even your own." He paused before adding, "You hung on my every word, spread my vision... Every time we played, you offered the crown. My most loyal little acolyte".

A thrill of anticipation ran through you; he must be deviating from his usual script. He was now speaking directly to you.

luxaeterna: haha cool meta stuff luxaeterna: the game is probably checking to see if you have any save games where you killed him luxaeterna: and judging by the way you just stroked the screen (lol) you don't

"Come, my little mouse," Raphael beckoned. "Come and claim your reward. What is it that your heart desires?"

Your eyes scanned the four options presented to you:

1. Wealth beyond measure.

2. Godlike power.

3. Eternal youth.

4. You, Raphael.

"Well," you said aloud with a smile as your cursor hovered over option 4 (the only logical choice), "I'm not sure about immeasurable wealth, but an extra grand wouldn't hurt.”

You wouldn't know what to do with godlike power anyway, and you were too young to dream of eternal youth.

A message appeared in the right-hand corner of your screen: GUESTUSER43214 donated €1,000.

You gasped.

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.

He was here. Raphael was watching you play with Raphael, which was the most Raphael thing that ever happened.

And he'd just given you a damn grand for nothing, with a simple click of his fingers - virtual numbers to him, but very real to you.

You licked your lips with excitement. Easy money. The easiest money ever, for a joke and a smile. Tax free too. Is that how the girls at OnlyFans feel?

papa johnes: holy fuck why didn't you ask for a million papa johnes: reload and ask for a million! DEVIL CREAMPIE: WOW WOW WOW luxaeterna: is this a prank? DEVIL CREAMPIE: SUGAR DADDY DEVIl

Would he give you more if you asked for it? Perhaps. Perhaps more than you could possibly imagine, enough to make all the worries disappear, but all in due time; that was not what you were craving from him at the moment.

luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 are you Raph are you Raph Raph is it you? luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 I can also stroke the screen for a thousand where do I sign up?

The user did not reply, but Raphael in-game did as soon as you clicked on "You and only you".

He walked up to your Tav and embraced her; tenderly, carefully, his clawed hands tracing the back of her spine. She looked frightened.

Well, she only had so many expressions.

"You've always had a knack for making wise decisions," he purred in her ear. "It's one of your many talents, my dear. And once again you've chosen wisely. Now, how may I indulge you?"

papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION

1. Fulfil my every dark fantasy.

2. Let me put you on a leash and show you what pleasure is, devil.

3. Aren't you only bedding Haarlep?

4. Thanks, I'll pass. Haarlep has told me I’d be well advised to indulge elsewhere.

luxaeterna: Fulfil my every DARK fantasy lol who wrote this stuff a horny intern on her lunch break papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION GODDAMNIT

You briefly contemplated if you wanted Haarlep to join and thought that’s something you would save for later, so you went for the horny intern option.

"I will make all your fantasies come true," Raphael promised, as he stood up from his seat and approached Tav. "The ones you're aware of and those yet to be discovered. But for what comes next, little mouse, I prefer us to be alone. No prying eyes."

The game gave you three options to choose from:

1. Yes, Raphael

2. Yes, Master

3. Yes, of course

luxaeterna: I think there might be an option missing DEVIL CREAMPIE: lol any colour you like as long as it’s black right Raph

You nodded, chose “Yes, Raphael”, and got an immediate response:

Connection to Twitch lost. You clicked around, but the servers seemed to be shut down. Huh, you thought, Raphael can control Twitch servers. He could use it as a tool of mass indoctrination.

A deep sigh slipped from your lips.

It was just the two of you now.

But you wouldn't leave without proof. You pressed escape and positioned your phone camera on the highest shelf, angling it to capture everything that transpired on screen.

Raphael pulled Tav in a kiss the moment you resumed the game, something clearly modelled after Ascended Astarion kiss, with him standing, her seated, looking tiny in comparison to him. His clawed hand grasped her ebony neck and gave it a light squeeze. His expression was perfect - possessive, dark, animalistic, hers was screaming “I am about to shit myself” and completely out of place.

You are a Lolth-Sworn and a Bhaalspawn, Tav! What the bloody hell are you scared about? He should be scared of you!

"You taste ambrosial, my little mouse," Raphael whispered into Tav's ear. "I've lived thousands of years and never tasted anything better."

She doesn’t, you thought bitterly, she tastes like nothing but code, but I do, I do!

Your hand traced up your neck mimicking Raphael's touch on Tav's skin and squeezed lightly. The pain made you aware of the bitter resentment against your own avatar - Raphael invited her, dined with her, was about to fuck her, not you, and it could be you now, should be you, not some character you cooked in an hour in the character creator.

She didn’t do shit but follow your orders. It was you who ordered her to give him the Crown.

Next, Raphael shoved the dishes and the cutlery to the floor and gently laid Tav onto the dining table, positioning himself between her thighs. At first glance, it looked like they'd used Halsin's animation from a different angle until you saw his forked tongue glide across Tav's pixel-perfect hairless pussy, sliding in and out of her.

She did one of those high-pitched, perfectly fake screams that made your blood boil and that was exactly the reason you never watched mainstream porn.

The very next gameplay your Tav is jumping off a very high cliff.

Tav threw her head back and moaned, the hair that should have fallen down remaining perfectly in place in her braid. It made it look fake the way video game sex sequences look fake, plastic dolls smashed against each other. Every woman in Faerun and Earth would grab his horns and hold on tight, but no, Tav was not animated to do so.

At least Raphael looked real, every second more so, so you focused on him, and his eyes, and his face glistening in candlelight and Tav’s juices.

There was no way Larian would make it so explicit, a thought that floated in the back of your mind. Can’t be right. The moans, the animations, the visceral, explicit arousal - his and hers. Can’t be right.

No way you’d be stopping to cross-check, either.

So, you watched Tav writhing under the devil's tongue, slipping your hand under your t-shirt, pulling aside the black lacy bra you'd recently bought for him and caressing your hardening nipples.

You couldn't help yourself.

You wanted him, his lips on your pussy, your hands around his horns, you wanted to come onto his mouth, to grind around his cock like a fish caught on a hook.

But all you could do was stare, the pulsing of your clit in perfect rhythm with your heartbeats.

Raphael was looking at you, at you specifically, just like in the cafe. He grabbed one of Tav's legs by the ankle and lifted it high into the air as she arched her back in pleasure. The other leg was slightly spread, offering a view of your avatar's glistening pussy, which you couldn't care less about, unlike the ribbed, red, engorged cock between Raphael's legs, impressive enough to both arouse and frighten.

He must taste so good. The very thought made your mouth water.

You shoved your fingers under your jeans, feeling the zipper scrape against them till it hurt, but you couldn't care less.

Fuck her, you muttered aloud as you rubbed yourself. Or better still, call me and fuck me.

As if he could hear you (he could he could he definitely could), Raphael hoisted Tav’s ankles onto his shoulders and rammed into her with the force that would have been painful in reality but looked mesmerising on the screen.

Hard, sure thrusts, sliding in and out, looking at you all that time, his mouth tightening in a sardonic smile. The promise in his eyes. The promise of all he could give and the promise of a hell of a price to pay. Despite all your fear for him, and because of it, you wanted him even more.

Tav screamed her cry again, exactly the same vocal line, her symmetrical, round, cookie-cutter breasts bouncing to the rhythm dictated by Raphael.

It’s me next time, you pleaded. Make it me. I deserve it. I’ll make it worth your while. Please.

Raphael moaned, loudly, like no man you've ever been with moaned - no man you've ever been with could pull off a moan like that - wild, lustful, deep, shameless. You have to talk like him to pull that off. You have to look like him.

You have to be that silver-tongued devil.

"You are mine. I owe you, my precious little mouse" Raphael said to Tav, hovering over her, folding her in two (would you be that flexible?). "Be my good girl and say it."

This is exactly the kind of talk you wanted from him, exactly the kind of talk that made your pussy throb, that made you click on everything with 'maledom' in it in a split second. Such a shame you could see so little, had to imagine so much, their parts were barely visible in this position.

"I am yours," you whispered breathlessly, pinching your nipple as you plunged your fingers deep inside you. "I am your good girl. I am your little mouse. I am!”

Tav said nothing and Raphael raised his hand over her face. Slap her, you urged, hurt her, slap her hard, but he didn't, instead running his fingers through her snow-white hair and you moaned in frustration and pleasure.

This man brings out the worst in you.

Your pussy clenched around your fingers, a little moan escaped your lips and you bored into them, pretending it was his cock ramming into you. You would get the Devil's Dick from under the bed if you could just tear yourself away from the screen for a moment.

You were right on the edge, so close, closer. Your eyes were fixed on Raphael's face, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of his cock as he thrust one final time before the screen slowly faded to black.

"NO!" you screamed in frustration. "COME BACK! I'M NOT DONE YET!"

The scene changed to both of them lying on a crimson bed. You closed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth.

Of course, you could have used your imagination to fill in the rest, but you were tired of pretending. You craved the real thing - flesh against flesh, hot breath, his scent, beads of sweat, and taste of saliva, his saliva. Not just porn or smut or audio recordings – the actual physical experience. Sex that you had never had because all you knew was awkward fumbling and elbows tangling in your hair and ‘ugh do you really want me to talk dirty this is so weird’.

You would do anything to fuck him now. Bring me that damn contract, I'll sell my soul for a good fuck. Give me the fucking paper, Raphael, give it to me now.

You reluctantly pulled your sticky fingers away from your aching pussy and cursed under your breath. How many times did Raphael ruin the mood already? Cruel, sadistic, cold-hearted fiend, damned hellish beast.

You wanted a different kind of torment.

"Raphael, you better call me," you growled at the screen. "Or I swear I'll come to your house, snatch your hammer, end you and..."

Your threat was cut off by a ring of the doorbell.

"Metaphorically speaking," you hastily added as the doorbell chimed again, more insistently this time.

The memory of blood blisters on guy's lips for lesser offences was still fresh in your mind.

"You promised you'd knock on my door, not ring," you muttered to yourself, feeling a tinge of fear run through your body. "And again... metaphorically speaking!"

The doorbell rang once more, louder and angrier than before. You wiped your slick fingers on a napkin and quickly adjusted your clothing before cautiously approaching the door.

A quick glance through the peephole revealed something red outside. But you didn't dare take a second look.

Your palm found its way to the cool metal of the doorknob. This was it, wasn't it? The moment where a stupid girl opens the wrong door at the wrong time and gets clawed to death.

Behind the door stood a teenage boy, around fourteen or fifteen years old, with acne and an ill-fitted t-shirt, casually chewing gum. He looked at you as if you were the one disturbing his peace all along.

"Why the hell were you buzzing my door like a maniac?" you asked.

He thrust a bouquet of red roses towards you without much ceremony. It was heavier than you thought.

"I have a special delivery for you, ma'am" he announced.

"Why did you buzz my door like that?" you asked again, irritated.

"I get an extra hundred if I deliver these today. I was pissed that you weren't home," he replied with casual indifference.

"You can't just do that to people, you little shit," you shot back.

"Whatever, sue me, bitch," he retorted before walking away with a shrug and one last jab: "And zip up your fly."

You flipped him off, your fly still splayed open. It was funny how not too long ago, such a comment would have mortified and flustered you.

But now, being a bit (okay, a lot) crazy has its perks.

The bouquet he gave you was exactly the type that you used to mock in high school when the popular girls would flaunt their dozens of roses on social media. Over-the-top, showy, just plain vulgar in its excessiveness. How many were there? A hundred? At least.

You absolutely loved it.

You loved the note attached even more.

"Apologies for my silence. Had urgent matters to attend to. I promise to make amends and cannot wait to see you again -R."

Oh, and a box of Ladurée macarons which you never tried but you couldn't take your eyes off of them through the window of the shop!

As if on cue, an incoming call lit up your phone screen. No Caller ID. You clutched the bouquet tighter and hurriedly answered.

“Thank you so much”, you said, momentarily hating the simpering, saccharine voice you adopted. “What a coincidence, just received your flowers”.

"It's hardly a coincidence," Raphael replied calmly. "They sent me an email notification."

You let out a small laugh at the mention of the "e-mail". It seemed like Raphael was still playing the “no, no, it’s not me Raphael the cambion, I just look like him” game. Whatever the hell for?

"You've had my home address this whole time, haven't you, Raphael?" you asked. "Why did you ask then?"

There was a moment of tense silence on the other end of the line, and you could sense Raphael's anger without even seeing him.

One wrong sentence and everything could shift between the two of you in a split second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded with firmness in his tone:

"It’s one thing you didn’t ask for my name - which I found impolite, but I can forgive a beautiful woman many things. Calling me another man’s name? That's something I will not tolerate."

You blinked in confusion as you read the note in your hand: "I cannot wait to see you again. -R".

"I'm sorry," you stammered, "Your note..."

He laughed. Soft, charming laugh of a rich and successful man perfectly content with his life.

"Raul, at your service. Raul d'Avergni, if you're interested in doing some research in your free time."

"Raul?", you asked. It was not an ugly name, but it was foreign, mundane and not diabolical enough for your taste. It made you think of a Spanish soap opera, not of Avernus.

"That's right," he replied calmly. "Italian, in case you were wondering. From west of Pozzuoli. Not exactly a place you would be familiar with."

You couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the comment, even though you indeed had no clue where Pozzuoli was.

"Oh," you replied. "I hadn't noticed an accent."

"I would hope not, considering how much my father spent sending me to Eton," Raphael (you won’t call him otherwise, no) joked, although his voice tensed up at the mention of his father.

Great, now Mephistopheles is here too? Did you accidentally invite all of Hells?

"I will be there by eight to collect you," he said very matter—of—factly.

You checked your Apple Watch and saw that it was only an hour away.

"Tonight?" you inquired.

"Do you have any other arrangements?"

No, of course not. I've been waiting for your call this whole time, you wanted to make a joke before you realised it was no joke and therefore not really funny.

"No... none," you admitted. "Where are we headed tonight? Should I dress up?"

Or it wouldn’t matter because I would end up in a garbage bag and a “missing” poster?

You could hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"You definitely should dress up," he said, his tone flirtatious again. "We are heading somewhere special. It might be a little unconventional for common taste, but I assure you, you'll love it. See you very soon."

He hung up before you could ask for more details on what kind of unconventional thing he had in mind. As you tried to calculate your chances of survival for this unconventional event and what exactly was considered unconventional by infernal standards, the odds seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

Would they even find your body?

It suddenly struck you that 'Raul' never bothered to explain how he knew where you lived, and you still didn't have his phone number to call him back. This realisation prompted you to do something you hadn't done since childhood: call your mum twice in one day.

The only person you could trust to hunt down a devil.

"Mum? I have plans tonight. I'm going out with a man named Raul de… de… oh, God, Avergni or something. Yes, write down his name and look him up on Google. If I don't call you until tomorrow..."

"What do you mean by tomorrow?" your mother interrupted sharply. "Are you planning on spending the night with him?"

You were hoping to spend the night with him!

"I'm twenty-seven, Mum."

“Anya, you know better than to sleep with a man on the first date. Men are hunters, and if you give in too easily, they will lose interest. Trust me, I've been through it all before…”

You clench your jaw as she continues to lecture you on how to catch, tame, and keep a man.

"Mum?" you interject.

"Yes?"

"Did it work with my father?”

Your mother let out an exasperated sigh and switched to her "I have the worst daughter in the world" voice.

"I hope you have a nice evening, but please remember to call me when you get home TONIGHT."

As you showered, dressed, moisturised your face and hands and tried to style your hair, you couldn't help but think of Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic. After all, she looked good dead, so you should too.

The marks of your own fingertips were still visible on your neck. You quickly covered them with concealer and briefly recalled a distant memory of cutting yourself as a teenager.

Why had you cut yourself? The reason was foggy in your mind, as was the pain, but you remembered the bitterness and loneliness. You didn't want to die, but you wanted something else - something you didn't have, or someone who could give it to you.

Being suicidal must be a package deal with being crazy.

Your phone buzzed. The thing with your mother, she gets distracted too easily to remain offended for long. And you provided her with excellent food for distraction.

is he the managing partner of the law firm?

oh my god

ANYA, THE KING OF PENTACLES.

they write “not married” on the website, god bless

he must have so much money, Anya, so much money.

so handsome

no offence love but how on earth did you manage it

(ah that’s why you were cutting yourself)

we can live with him being Italian, I think.

at least he is Catholic.

please wear black, it suits your figure.

remember POSITIVE thinking.

(Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic)

send me a picture when you are ready. OK? love

wear a cross too

A cross? You let out a laugh. Unlike your mother, you were consistent in your beliefs. Catholic school was the perfect environment for raising atheists. Ever since you were a teenager, you had been against that rotten, bloody institution, full of pedos, crooks and who knows what else.

If this was God's team, then you proudly allied yourself with the devil.

As you ranted internally against the church, you suddenly remembered that you now had some freshly made solo porn on your phone that needed to be deleted immediately.

Not before you give it a little watch.

You wish you hadn't, you thought as it started to play. A high-quality video of you choking in front of a black screen, your hands clutching your throat with a fervour you didn't even know you possessed. A reflection of your face on the laptop: possessed, sickly, rapt. Moans escaping your lips as you pant, hands roaming all over your body, little tremors of excitement... at nothing.

A black screen.

You immediately deleted the video from your phone. If it proved anything, it was that you were gone. Far gone. Off the deep end. The way you moaned, salivating at the mouth, Christ almighty (Christ had nothing to do with it)...

Knock-knock.

Well, that was Raphael. You could tell by the simple knock. It was soft and polite, modest yet assertive; but he wouldn't wait long for you to open the door, so you had to be quick.

Knock-knock.

Your gaze drifted to the ornate golden cross, the crucifix in the centre; suffering, redemption, salvation, deliverance from evil and all the shit you did not believe in.

In fact, you didn't believe in devils either.

Besides, a cross won't help against the devils of Baator.

Then again, it wouldn't hurt.

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanfic #meta fanfic #raphael x you #raphael x reader #raphael x player #raphael x tav #knock knock #raphael the cambion

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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1989 home is a conglomeration of Contemporary, Art Deco, and Castle. If you like your modern homes extra, this one in Highland Park, IL has everything you could want, but not necessarily need. 6bds, 7ba, $1.495M.

The entrance hall with 2 metal doors, marble floors and a swirling staircase. What is that hole in the floor on the right.

Straight ahead is a room built in a room, with double doors and glass block.

There's a dining area next to the structure, with a rounded wall and a fireplace.

Wine rack in the wall. From the dining room are 3 steps to a bar & lounge. (Why do they do that?)

Tipsy guests could fall.

Lounge area in front of a fireplace.

The lounge is between the dining room and the kitchen.

Sterile looking white and stainless steel kitchen.

Why do they put mirrored walls in bathrooms? They're so mind boggling.

Contemporary home office with a pink neon strip. Interesting medieval decor thrown in.

The most baffling room is the 2 story primary bedroom. It has a terrace, room for a sitting area, lots of windows, a spiral staircase to a loft, and a round bed with a sloppy square inflatable mattress.

Large 2 room en-suite. Note the blue lights in the glass block platform.

There's a separate area in the closet/dressing room for a makeup vanity.

All of the other bedrooms are also spacious and have access to terraces.

This looks like the kids play/TV room.

Must be the mud room. Everyone has a viking hat.

Look at the locker room. I don't see any sports facility in the house.

Huge rec room.

Glass block bar in the corner.

Home theater "lobby." The owner's name must be Sanan, so the new owner will have to change the marquee letters.

The theater is surprisingly plain.

Another mirrored bath.

Pool out back of the 1.02 acre property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1949-Browning-Ct-Highland-Park-IL-60035/4902415_zpid/?

#modern mansions #mansions #modern architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master Your Money & Tips On Financial Literacy

Understanding and taking control of your finances improves your quality of life in many ways. Making strides toward better financial literacy can save you a lot of stress, unnecessary fees and helps you play a more active role in taking control over this aspect of adulthood. Once you understand the game of money, saving, and investing, it becomes infinitely simpler to devise a plan to set yourself up for a more financially-free future. Here are some practical tips to keep your finances streamlined, secure, and systemized to help you gain more financial literacy and win in this area of life.

Overview:

Track Your Income & Expenses

Set Financial Goals & Realistic Limitations

Invest Higher-Quality Items To Save Later

Educate Yourself On Different Types of Banking & Investment Accounts

Establish Credit, But Know Yourself

Create An Emergency Fund

Leverage Credit Card Benefits

Understand The Power of A Roth IRA (or Backdoor Roth IRA) & HSA

Automate Whenever Possible

Get Familiar With Taxes & Write-offs

Stay Informed About Employer Benefits

Purchase Seasonally & With Discount Codes (When Available)

Protect Yourself

Read Books

Seek Expert Advice

TIPS ON MASTERING FINANCIAL LITERACY:

Track Your Income & Expenses: Always have a record of all of the money going in and out of your accounts. Use the tool on your banking account app(s) to confirm your monthly income and expenses. Tools like Mint also are great to track your spending to see where every dollar is going all in one place. Aside from personal use, for small business owners, Quickbooks is my favorite invoicing and expense-tracking option.

Set Financial Goals & Realistic Limitations: Once you know your exact monthly income, budget your essentials, savings, investments, and fun money accordingly. Make sure necessities like rent, food, health insurance, electricity, WiFi, toiletries, etc. are accounted for before anything else. Depending on your financial situation, experts (not me – I try to educate myself as best as I can, but am no expert!) recommend trying to save and invest between 15-30% of your pre-tax income. Give yourself the liberty to spend the rest (say 15-20%) of your income, so you don’t feel deprived and stay on track with your goals.

Invest Higher-Quality Items To Save Later: Initially purchasing a higher-quality item often cuts your overall expenses in a certain area over the long run. (Ex: Well-made clothing, shoes, furniture, kitchen appliances, coffee maker, hair dryer, etc.). If you invest upfront on an item you regularly use, there’s a lower chance that it will deteriorate, rip, break, or otherwise become unusable for the next few years. When you opt for the cheaper option, this practice might save you a few bucks in the short term, but you will probably end up having to replace it a few times over time and spend more in the long run. This tip might seem counterintuitive to some, but it truly does save you a lot of money (and frustration). However, I will place a caveat here and say that this advice comes from a place of privilege. Never purchase something you can’t afford. If you have the means, spend a bit more upfront - it is better for your future wallet, allows you to indulge in a better quality of life, and helps you let go of any scarcity mindset/financial limiting beliefs.

Educate Yourself On The Different Types of Banking & Investment Accounts: Know the differences between and the use purpose of different accounts: Checking, Savings, CDs, 401K, Roth IRA, HSA, etc. Always opt for a high-yield savings account option to help preserve your money’s value over time with rising living costs and inflation.

Establish Credit, But Know Yourself: Your credit score is like your adult report card. It’s essential for so many aspects of life, like renting or buying a home, insurance, cell phone plans, etc., so it’s important to start building your credit as early as you can. However, if you know you’re the type of person to overspend with a credit card, look into secured credit card options (you deposit the money that acts as a credit limit, so it’s like a debit card with credit-building benefits).

Create An Emergency Fund: Pay yourself first. Have between 3-12 months of expenses available in a high-yield savings account at all times. If you have a family or are self-employed, aim for 6-12 months of necessary savings to stay sane. Saving this amount of money takes time. Be patient, and cut back on frivolous expenses if needed for the short term.

Leverage Credit Card Benefits: If you have enough self-control, always use a credit card instead of a debit card – but spend in the same way you would as though the money is coming directly out of your bank account. This gives you additional flight and other purchasing perks, such as cashback and exclusive discounts. Using a credit card provides additional security, too.

Understand The Power of A Roth IRA (or Backdoor Roth IRA, depending on your income) & HSA: Compound interest is your best friend financially. Depending on your income, invest as much as you can into a Roth IRA account or set up a backdoor Roth IRA through your brokerage firm (I use Vanguard!). HSA (Health Saving Accounts) accounts offer so many benefits – they can serve as a tax write-off, lower your overall healthcare costs, and be leveraged to use as an additional retirement investment account, too (I use Fidelity).

Automate Whenever Possible: Automate a portion of your paycheck to savings and your investments, so you never see this money. Pay yourself first before spending (on anything but necessities).

Get Familiar With Taxes & Write-offs: This mainly applies to anyone self-employed or a small business owner (been in the game for 5 years!). However, this point can also potentially be beneficial for students who can leverage an education credit for tax purposes. Explore all of your options to see what write-offs are available in your specific situation. Understand how your income and expenses influence your tax bracket. Investing in a CPA can save you a considerable amount of money and all of your sanity if you’re not a salaried employee. Look over the standardized section C document, and speak with a professional to help maximize your write-off potential (legally and honestly, of course). My CPA is my lifeline!

Stay Informed About Employer Benefits: Always maximize your 401K match (whatever percentage that is at your company), any wellness perks (like a gym membership or massage credit), or any meals and car services credits for late nights/work trips.

Purchase Seasonally & With Discount Codes (When Available): Try to purchase items off-season when you can (e.g. purchase classic winter closet staples in the summer when they’re on sale). Utilize plug-ins like Honey or Cently on your browser to have discount codes for any site readily available.

Protect Yourself: Stay on top of fraud alerts. Freeze your credit bureau accounts if necessary.

Read Books: Educate yourself on saving, investing, budgeting, building a business, etc. See the ‘Finance’ section of my Femme Fatale Booklist for some recommendations. I also love Graham Stephan’s Youtube channel – his videos are highly useful and practical for beginners in this life arena!

Seek Expert Advice: Use licensed professionals (CPAs, brokerage firms, your bank, etc.) as a resource, too, for your personal goals.

This is a lot to take in, so try to implement one action item (or a few) at a time, so you can work towards your goals without getting overwhelmed. Also, for reference, I’m in the United States, so all of these tips are focused on how the system works in my country - if you know of any international equivalents, feel free to drop them in the comments to guide others.

Hope this helps xx

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fitgirlfemdom · 6 months

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✧∘* ✧･ﾟwelcome to my page!✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

this is my current nsfw/18+ tumblr for my horny rants and rambles. enjoy your stay!

who are you?

i'm fitgirl, and i'm a 19-year-old girl, tomboy-ish with a fucked-up side. i've been a long-time lurker of kink content on here, and i finally decided to take the plunge and make my own page.

can i send you pics of my body / give you money / request services outside of conversation?

no! i do not want to get involved in your personal life, and you want no part in mine.

main kinks:

-degradation -bimbofication -dumbification -weight gain -breeding -femdom -mind break -hucows my beloved

kinks i'm picky about:

-cnc (riddled with misogyny and ruined by tiktok normies!!1!1) -extreme pain/guro (only specific areas of the body and this blog is not for that side of me) -pregnancy (the act/fear of getting pregnant is hot but i don't find pregnant people attractive due to their pregnancy) -crossdressing (bikinis, bras, panties are hot--anything more and ur doing too much tbh)

hard no's:

-shit, piss, vomit, bodily functions, etc. -inflation -vore -ass play (i'm not one of those dom females that busts out the strap)

non-kink stuff / interests (if u care):

-metal (Pantera, NIN, Slipknot, Children of Bodom, Sybreed, Fear Factory, Slayer, Iron Maiden, Gojira, Tool, Opeth, Wintersun, etc.) -anime (berserk [manga + 1997], watamote, nana) -making earrings, baking, sculpting, digital painting, candle-making, candy-making, and other dumb hobbies

i hope you enjoy reading my posts, and if you don't, i hope you have a good day! <3

#feeding kink #feedee feeder #ffa #feedee encouragement #feederist #male feedism #male feedee #feedee piggy #feedee girl #huc0w #femdxm #humiliation kink #degrading k1nk

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itsonlybaby · 1 month

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˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗℘

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒smut﹒fluff﹒angst

﹒ ◠ list under cut ! ͘ ౨ ⸝⸝ most rec ꒰ twt links

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　birthday wish - ModernAU! Throwing a surprise birthday for Murphy, but what happens if the guest of honor is late for the party?

　mine - Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. 　the moon, the sun - When Titus died you set out in search of a new fleimkepa, only finding Murphy; a misunderstood roach. 　full of hate - You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect him to awaken something in you.

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　useless - you feel useless to the people of Arkadia, maybe Bellamy could help with that. 　wooden deer - you met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. 　divine - ever since the massacre of the grounder army he's been different, but you don't give up on him 　haircuts - bellamy noticed you have been losing sleep over your son, so he decided to help out. Only, he doesn't stop helping out.

　failed mission - Azgeda assassins are supposed to be stone-cold, and feel nothing, but what happens when a certain boy tries to gain your trust 　jealous meeting - bellamy calls a group meeting to decide certain defense plans and catch up with everyone, but his jealousy gets the best of him. 　longing dreams- you had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. 　flowers of you - when the second praimfaya hit you thought you were the last person on Earth, until the group came back down, landing in your valley. 　the wolf and the lamb - you stumble across a knocked-out person, doing the only thing you can do you save him; not knowing with that would lead to. 　pyramid - it wasn't uncommon for you to flirt with Bellamy, but it was unusual for him to flirt with you back. 　friends with benefits - you and Bellamy were friends, friends who often did each other favors.

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　whenever you want - you've been crushing on Monty for years now, and you decide it's time to give him a hint, which doesn't go as planned

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐭 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　sneaky memories - You got captured in Bardo, and while Levitt was sifting through your memories he came across a more private one.

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ㅤ

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ incest ╰﹐siblings, parent/child, cousins

⸝⸝ pedophilia ╰﹐if the reader or character is a minor I won't do it

⸝⸝ inflation

⸝⸝ sexual assault ╰﹐this goes for cnc, and rape

⸝⸝ scat play ╰﹐piss, and shit

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ safe age gap ╰﹐they are still of age, but there's a gap

⸝⸝ stalking ╰﹐not yandere stalking

⸝⸝ twt smut visuals ╰﹐twitter porn I think matches a character's vibe

⸝⸝ anything else you can think of ╰﹐if I don't like your request, I wont write it, but that's rare

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

　just call me baby.

　i am 19 years old, this is my main blog that I've now abandoned but cant delete > @saturdaykrualt

　my discord is 'itsjustbaby'

　im really passionate about creative arts, such as painting, writing, and music.

　i have to listen to music while writing, here's the playlist!

　and this is my main playlist

ㅤ ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ ㅤ if you have any questions don't be scared to ask﹗✦

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angelprinz · 8 months

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daddy diluc anon again so glad you liked my horny thoughts 😍😍

if diluc ever passed by his little girls room and heard her say any other man's name, he's coming in

he doesn't care how flustered she is, he needs to teach her a lesson

but ohh he's just too nice to actually hurt her, he can't go further than a few spanks to her ass and even her puffy clit

she'll beg for forgiveness and he can't deny her a release any longer, she's just too cute

he sits her on his lap and teases her, but makes sure to sit her nice and comfortably on his already rock hard cock

he fucks her so damn good she won't even remember her own name, let alone the name of whoever she was fantasising about before

she's daddy's girl through and through, and diluc would make sure to keep it that way 🫶🫶

also very important question (I think) in your opinion is diluc an ass, tits, or thighs kinda guy?? 🧐

daddy diluc totally spanks!!!! he’s so kind, making you count over his knees till your mind is too fuzzy to remember the guy’s name, only sobs of i’m sorry daddy <3 i’ll be a good girl <3

personally im a face person … diluc is actually an pussy n tummy man…

he’s a breeder… he wants to feel his bulge in your stomach and squish that soft area with his lithe fingers… he wants to see your stomach expand with cum & his kids… he’s disgusting … he said INFLATION!!! he cums either INSIDE or right outside your cunt <3

he loves eating you out & playing with your pussy lips !!! (self projects on diluc super hard) i’m a face person as in i wanna cum on your pretty face & decorate it with my mark <3 idk if it’s clear in my posts but i love blowjobs. oh and face riding but i haven’t really wrote that much.

i got off topic anonnie i hope you send me more daddy luc!!!!! mwa mwa mwa love you!

#laven_talks #anon <3 #diluc <3 #tw. dark content #genshin smut #gi smut #genshin impact smut #diluc smut

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defiblover27 · 3 months

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Simulation

In the bustling corridors of the underfunded hospital, a faded flyer catches the eye of passersby, its corners curling with age. "Volunteers Needed for Trauma Training Exercise," it boldly proclaims, beckoning those with a sense of adventure or altruism to step forward and lend their aid.

Among those drawn to the call is a 24-year-old woman, her determination evident in the set of her jaw as she approaches the hospital's trauma director. They exchange a brief but earnest conversation, the young volunteer expressing her willingness to participate in the training exercise while voicing her concerns about her comfort level with certain procedures.

"I'm eager to help in any way I can," she explains, her voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and resolve. "But I'll admit, I'm a bit apprehensive about some of the more invasive procedures. I'm comfortable with basic first aid and CPR, but I'm not sure I'm ready for things like intubation or defibrillation."

The trauma director nods understandingly, his expression one of reassurance rather than judgment. "That's perfectly understandable," he replies, his tone gentle yet firm. "Your safety and comfort are our top priorities. We'll tailor the scenario to suit your preferences and ensure you're only asked to participate in tasks you feel comfortable with."

With a sense of relief washing over her, the young volunteer nods gratefully, grateful for the understanding and support offered by the trauma director. Together, they discuss her role in the upcoming training exercise, mapping out a scenario that challenges her skills without pushing her beyond her limits.

Preparing the volunteer for the trauma training exercise is a meticulous process, undertaken with care and attention to detail to ensure her safety and comfort throughout the simulation.

As she arrives at the hospital, the volunteer is greeted by a team of trained professionals who guide her through each step of the preparation process. They lead her to a private changing area, where a set of hospital scrubs awaits her. With gentle encouragement, they assist her in disrobing, providing her with disposable undergarments to wear beneath the scrubs for modesty and hygiene.

Once dressed, the volunteer takes a seat as a makeup artist meticulously applies special effects makeup to simulate the injuries she will portray during the exercise. With a steady hand and an artist's eye for detail, they create realistic bruises, lacerations, and abrasions, transforming the volunteer's appearance into that of a trauma patient in need of urgent medical attention.

As the makeup artist works their magic, other members of the preparation team gather the necessary equipment for the simulation. They retrieve a backboard from its storage location, laying it out on a nearby gurney in anticipation of the volunteer's arrival. Alongside the backboard, they arrange a cervical collar (C-collar) and an inflatable orange brace designed to stabilize her right leg.

With the makeup application complete, the volunteer is guided to the gurney, where she lies down with a sense of trepidation mingled with excitement. The preparation team surrounds her, their movements practiced and precise as they secure her to the backboard with straps, ensuring she remains stable and secure throughout the simulation.

Next, they carefully position the cervical collar around her neck, adjusting it to provide support without impeding her breathing or movement. With gentle yet firm hands, they slide the inflatable orange brace into place around her right leg, inflating it to the appropriate level to immobilize the limb and prevent further injury.

As the final touches are made, the volunteer takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. Though she may be nervous, she knows she is in capable hands, surrounded by a team of professionals dedicated to her well-being. With a nod of affirmation, she signals her readiness to begin, eager to play her part in the training exercise and contribute to the hospital's ongoing mission of saving lives.

The simulation begins with the trauma team gathered around the gurney, their expressions grave as they assess the condition of the patient lying before them. The young woman, named Emily, is 24 years old, her face drawn with pain as she struggles to maintain consciousness amidst the chaos of the emergency room.

Emily's injuries are extensive, the result of a harrowing car accident that left her trapped in the wreckage for hours before help arrived. She presents with multiple traumatic injuries, including a deep laceration on her forehead, contusions and bruising across her chest and abdomen, and a visibly deformed right leg.

As the medical team conducts their initial assessment, Emily groans softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she describes the events leading up to the accident. She recalls the screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal as her car careened off the road, the world spinning in a dizzying blur before everything went dark.

Her breathing is shallow and labored, punctuated by gasps of pain as she struggles to draw air into her damaged lungs. A rapid pulse races beneath her clammy skin, a testament to the body's instinctive response to trauma as it fights to stay alive against overwhelming odds.

The trauma team works quickly and methodically, their movements a synchronized dance of urgency and precision as they address each of Emily's injuries in turn. They apply pressure to the gaping wound on her forehead, staunching the flow of blood with sterile dressings and medical tape.

Meanwhile, others attend to her chest and abdomen, palpating for signs of internal injury while monitoring her vital signs for any indication of deterioration. X-rays are ordered to assess the extent of her injuries, with the medical team bracing themselves for the possibility of life-threatening complications hidden beneath the surface.

Throughout the simulation, Emily remains conscious but disoriented, her grip on reality tenuous as she grapples with the enormity of what has happened. She reaches out for reassurance, her eyes searching the faces of the medical team for a glimmer of hope in the midst of her darkest hour.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma team springs into action with renewed determination, their focus unwavering as they fight to stabilize Emily's condition and save her life. Though the road ahead may be long and fraught with uncertainty, they refuse to give up hope, drawing strength from their collective commitment to excellence in the face of adversity.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma director approaches Emily with solemnity, his voice gentle yet firm as he explains the next phase of the exercise. "Emily," he begins, his tone tinged with empathy, "in just a moment, we'll be simulating a critical event. We'll need to simulate your heart stopping. We'll need to cut open your shirt to begin chest compressions, and we'll place an ambu bag over your mouth and nose. You should remain still and 'lifeless' during this process. You may choose to close your eyes or keep them open."

Emily nods in understanding, her heart pounding in her chest as she braces herself for what's to come. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the immersive experience of the simulation.

The trauma team springs into action with practiced efficiency, their movements choreographed to perfection as they simulate the onset of cardiac arrest. With a swift motion, they cut open Emily's shirt, exposing her chest to the harsh glare of the overhead lights. A sense of vulnerability washes over her, but she remains steadfast in her commitment to the exercise.

Chest compressions begin in earnest, the rhythmic thud echoing through the trauma room as the medical team works tirelessly to restore circulation to Emily's failing heart. An ambu bag is placed over her mouth and nose, delivering precious oxygen to her struggling lungs with each squeeze of the bag.

Amidst the chaos, Emily lies perfectly still, her body limp and unresponsive as she embraces the role of a patient in cardiac arrest. Though her mind races with adrenaline-fueled anticipation, she remains focused on maintaining the illusion of lifelessness, drawing upon her training and instincts to convey the gravity of the situation.

As the simulation unfolds, Emily finds herself enveloped in a surreal sense of suspended animation, her senses heightened as she navigates the fine line between reality and simulation. With each passing moment, she grows more deeply immersed in the role, her commitment unwavering as she plays her part in the collective effort to save lives and improve patient outcomes.

In the tense silence of the trauma room, Emily waits with bated breath, her entire being poised on the precipice of uncertainty. Though the outcome remains uncertain, she knows she is surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals committed to her well-being, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice to ensure her safety and success in the simulation.

As the simulation progresses and Emily remains in her role, the trauma director approaches her once more, his demeanor compassionate yet resolute. "Emily," he says softly, "we need to simulate defibrillation and the removal of the rest of your clothing. Are you okay with that?"

Emily meets the trauma director's gaze with a steady nod, her determination shining through the mask of simulated injuries. "Yes," she replies, her voice steady despite the rising tide of nerves coursing through her veins. "I'm ready."

With Emily's consent secured, the trauma team prepares to take the simulation to the next level. The room hums with a sense of purpose as equipment is brought forth, including the defibrillator paddles and a privacy screen to shield Emily from prying eyes.

With practiced hands, the trauma team carefully removes the remainder of Emily's clothing, revealing her body in its entirety to the stark fluorescent lights of the trauma room. Emily feels a pang of vulnerability wash over her, but she remains steadfast in her commitment to the exercise, drawing strength from the knowledge that she is surrounded by a team of professionals dedicated to her well-being.

As the final pieces of clothing are set aside, the trauma director approaches Emily once more, his expression one of reassurance as he prepares her for the next phase of the simulation. "Emily," he says, his voice gentle yet authoritative, "we're going to simulate defibrillation now. You'll feel a brief shock, but it's perfectly safe. Are you ready?"

Emily nods, her heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "I'm ready," she affirms, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the trauma room.

With a sense of purpose, the trauma team positions the defibrillator paddles against Emily's bare chest, their gloved hands steady as they prepare to deliver the simulated shock. A hush falls over the room as the trauma director counts down, his voice a steady cadence in the tense silence.

"Clear," he calls out, his command echoing through the trauma room.

In the next instant, Emily feels a jolt of electricity course through her body, sending a shiver down her spine as her muscles twitch in response to the simulated shock. Though the sensation is fleeting, it leaves her breathless with adrenaline, her senses heightened as she remains poised on the brink of uncertainty.

As the simulation continues, Emily finds herself drawn deeper into the immersive experience, her commitment unwavering as she navigates the challenges presented by the training exercise. Though the road ahead may be fraught with obstacles, she knows she is surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals ready to guide her every step of the way, ensuring her safety and success in the simulation.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma team continues their relentless efforts to resuscitate Emily, their movements a blur of urgency as they alternate between chest compressions, defibrillations, and the administration of resuscitation drugs.

With each compression, Emily feels the pressure against her chest, a rhythmic reminder of the tireless dedication of the medical team fighting to bring her back from the brink. The defibrillator paddles crackle with energy as they deliver simulated shocks, each one sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her body in a desperate bid to restart her faltering heart.

Amidst the chaos, the trauma director calls out the duration of Emily's cardiac arrest, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of uncertainty. "Five minutes," he intones, his words a stark reminder of the precious seconds slipping away with each passing moment.

The medical team works with practiced efficiency, their movements synchronized as they administer resuscitation drugs in a last-ditch effort to revive Emily's failing heart. The air is thick with tension as they watch for any signs of response, their collective gaze fixed on the monitor displaying Emily's vital signs.

Minutes stretch into eternity as the trauma team refuses to yield to despair, their determination unwavering in the face of overwhelming odds. With each passing moment, Emily feels herself drawn deeper into the immersive experience of the simulation, her senses attuned to the ebb and flow of life and death unfolding around her.

Though the outcome remains uncertain, Emily knows she is in capable hands, surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals committed to her well-being. As she lies in the midst of the simulated cardiac arrest, she draws upon her training and instincts to convey the gravity of the situation, embracing her role with a sense of purpose and determination that belies the simulated injuries adorning her body.

In the stillness of the trauma room, Emily waits with bated breath, her entire being poised on the razor's edge of uncertainty. Though the road ahead may be fraught with obstacles, she remains steadfast in her commitment to the simulation, ready to face whatever challenges lie in store with courage and resilience.

As the simulation intensifies, a sense of unease washes over Emily, a peculiar sensation prickling at the edges of her consciousness. Though she tries to push aside the feeling, dismissing it as a product of the immersive experience, a growing sense of dread gnaws at the pit of her stomach.

Unbeknownst to Emily or the trauma team, a medical student, eager to prove themselves in their new environment, has made a critical error. In their haste to assist with the simulation, they mistakenly administered a vial of real epinephrine instead of the simulated medication, a grave oversight that goes unnoticed amidst the chaos of the trauma room.

As the potent drug courses through Emily's veins, she feels a surge of adrenaline flood her system, her heart racing with an intensity that surpasses the bounds of the simulation. A sense of disorientation washes over her, her senses overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of physiological responses triggered by the real medication.

Despite the mounting alarm bells ringing in her mind, Emily says nothing, her voice lost amidst the cacophony of the trauma room as the medical team continues their efforts to resuscitate her. With each passing moment, her condition deteriorates, her heartbeat growing erratic as she teeters on the brink of true cardiac arrest.

In a cruel twist of fate, Emily's worst fears are realized as she plunges into the depths of a genuine cardiac arrest, her body succumbing to the deadly grip of arrhythmia. The trauma team, unaware of the unfolding crisis, presses on with their simulated interventions, their attention focused solely on the task at hand.

As Emily's consciousness fades into darkness, she realizes with a sinking heart that she is no longer a participant in a training exercise but a patient in desperate need of salvation. Though the realization comes too late to alter the course of events, she clings to a flicker of hope, praying for a miracle to save her from the abyss of death that looms ever closer with each passing second.

As the trauma director attempts to speak to Emily, a sense of urgency grips him as he notices her lack of response. His brow furrows with concern as he leans in closer, his voice tinged with desperation as he calls out her name. "Emily, can you hear me? Emily?"

There is no response, no flicker of recognition in Emily's glassy eyes as they stare blankly ahead. Panic begins to rise within the trauma director's chest as he realizes something is terribly wrong. With trembling hands, he reaches for Emily's wrist, his fingers searching for the reassuring throb of a pulse beneath her skin.

His heart sinks as he feels nothing but stillness, his worst fears confirmed in the absence of the vital sign he had hoped to find. In a state of shock, he checks for a pulse again, this time beneath the cervical collar, but the result remains the same—Emily is in cardiac arrest.

A sense of urgency washes over the trauma director as he springs into action, his training kicking in as he directs the medical team to shift their focus from simulation to reality. "She's in cardiac arrest!" he declares, his voice cutting through the chaos of the trauma room. "Start chest compressions, now!"

With practiced efficiency, the trauma team pivots to the new reality before them, their movements swift and sure as they initiate CPR in a desperate bid to revive Emily's failing heart. Each compression is a prayer whispered into the void, a plea for a miracle to breathe life back into the stillness that surrounds them.

As the trauma room buzzes with frenetic energy, the trauma director's mind races with a million questions, each one more pressing than the last. How could this have happened? What went wrong? But amidst the chaos, there is no time for answers, only action as they fight to save Emily's life against overwhelming odds.

In the midst of the turmoil, Emily lies motionless, her body a canvas for the frantic efforts of the medical team as they work tirelessly to bring her back from the brink. Though the road ahead may be fraught with uncertainty, they refuse to give up hope, drawing upon their training and expertise to navigate the stormy seas of cardiac arrest and guide Emily safely back to shore.

As the resuscitation attempts continue, the trauma room pulses with urgency, the rhythm of chest compressions driving the frantic tempo of the medical team's efforts to revive Emily. With each compression, her body sways from side to side, the force of the compressions causing her breasts to shake in a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation.

Amidst the chaos, the trauma team remains undeterred, their focus unwavering as they prepare to escalate their interventions in a desperate bid to save Emily's life. With a sense of grim determination, they gel the paddles and charge them with electricity, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as they prepare to deliver a shock to Emily's bare chest.

In a moment fraught with tension, the paddles are placed on Emily's skin, their cold metal surface a stark contrast to the warmth of her flesh. With a silent prayer on their lips, the medical team braces themselves as they prepare to unleash the full force of the defibrillator in a last-ditch effort to restart Emily's faltering heart.

A heartbeat later, the trauma room is awash with blinding light and crackling energy as the paddles deliver their shock, coursing through Emily's body in a desperate bid to jolt her heart back into rhythm. The room holds its breath as the monitor displays the outcome, the fate of Emily's life hanging in the balance with each passing moment.

But despite their best efforts, the monitor remains stubbornly flatline, a grim testament to the stubbornness of death in the face of human intervention. With a heavy heart, the trauma team presses on, their resolve unshaken as they refuse to yield to despair.

In a final act of desperation, the medical team moves to intubate Emily, their hands steady as they guide the endotracheal tube into her airway, securing her breathing and allowing for the administration of life-saving medications

As the resuscitation efforts persist, the passage of time weighs heavily on the trauma room, each minute stretching into eternity as the medical team fights desperately to revive Emily. Over thirty agonizing minutes tick by, marked by the relentless rhythm of chest compressions and the mechanical whir of life-saving equipment.

Despite their tireless efforts, Emily's condition continues to deteriorate before their eyes. Her once rosy complexion fades to a pallid shade of gray, her skin growing cold to the touch as the chill of death creeps inexorably into the room. The gel from the defibrillator paddles glistens on her bare chest, a stark reminder of the futile battle being waged against the icy grip of mortality.

A bruise blossoms between Emily's breasts, a grim testament to the force of the chest compressions that have been administered in a desperate bid to restore her failing circulation. Her eyes remain wide open, staring blankly into the void as if searching for answers that will never come.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the trauma team pauses momentarily, their hands hovering over Emily's motionless form as they perform a vital signs check. With a heavy heart, they prepare to confirm what they already fear to be true—that Emily is beyond saving, her journey on this mortal coil drawing to a tragic and untimely end.

A cardiac ultrasound reveals the harsh reality of Emily's condition, the images on the monitor painting a bleak portrait of irreversible cardiac damage. Her heart lies still within her chest, a silent sentinel to the finality of death's embrace.

#cpr #resus #resuscitation #defib #defibrillator #hospital

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